#and the lights and candles are just enough to make the floor warmer and the gold on the walls glow

[cherrygirlfriend]

─── SPEECHLESS ♥︎

♥︎ pairing: younger shy!reader x bf!aaron

♥︎ summary: after dating for three months, you make a plan to finally get aaron to sleep with you.

♥︎ warnings / tags: fluff, smut, MDNI! unprotected PIV wc: 1.2k

♥︎ author's note: for my girl @cinnamoncunt thank you for requesting this for my 4k event!! <3 i hope you enjoy it!!

AARON HOTCHNER MASTERLIST

aaron wanted to take things slow, the man knowing that you didn't have as much experience as he did due to the age gap between you two along with your inability to make the first move, but you were starting to get frustrated. you were by no means a virgin, and you and aaron had done some things, but you'd never slept with him. even though you were fine with taking things slow, and loved it when he'd show affection in his own, sweet ways, you also wanted more heat, but whenever aaron held you in his arms, you couldn't get yourself to stutter out the words 'let's have sex'. you have needs.

the day of your three-month anniversary, aaron had texted you to let you know that him and his team had finished up their case, asking you if you wanted to meet up that night, and the moment you received said text, a plan started to form in your mind.

aaron twisted your door open, looking around the dim apartment, his dark brows slightly furrowed. he called out your name, running a hand through his hair, and you appeared in front of him, making aaron's eyes widen and his throat go dry, "you look..."

"yes?" you cocked your head to the side in a teasing manner, biting down on your lower lip. you were in nothing but a dark blue lingerie set, tiptoeing close to him. you took hold of his tie, your long nails painted the same color as the new set you'd bought, looking up at the man in a suggestive way as you loosened his tie, "i missed you..." you stuck out your bottom lip.

"clearly." aaron cleared his throat, his hands trailing down to your bare sides, causing delicious shivers to crawl up your spine as you tugged him closer to you, sliding his jacket off. "you look great."

"just great?" you chuckled sultrily, "i think you can do better than that."

the man pulled you so close to him you were chest-to-chest, the suddenness of the movement making you let out a gasp, your heartbeat picking up in your chest, your cheeks starting to feel warmer, your reaction causing a pleased smile to appear on aaron's lips.

"i think so too."

he lifted you into his arms with ease, carrying you into your bedroom, gently laying you down on the bed, before pulling back. as he undid the cuffs on his button-up, aaron looked around the room, noticing the candles you'd lit all around the room, a breath of a chuckle leaving him. "cute." aaron undid his tie, throwing it onto the ground and unbuttoning the top two buttons on his shirt as you watched him in excitement.

when he was left in nothing but his boxers, a bulge visible through the black fabric, he leaned down down, aaron's body pressed against yours. "i missed you..." your boyfriend mumbled into your neck as you threw your head back, allowing him to keep kissing down your body. you arched your back off the bed, allowing aaron to swiftly unclasp your bra and discard the blue lace onto the floor, his tongue darting out to give your hardened nipple a lick, making you gasp.

aaron sucked the hard bud into his mouth, his hand slowly trailing down your body, his fingertips enough light a fire in your abdomen, slipping down into your panties. "god, aaron..." you whine when you feel his long finger run up your slit, gathering some of your arousal before landing onto your clit, circling it.

he let go of your nipple with a pop! pulling away from you, a pout on your face when he pulled his finger away from your clit. aaron found your reaction adorable, letting out a quiet chuckle, "someone's eager."

aaron kneeled back, and you watched as he pulled his boxers down, revealing his hard cock, twitching in his hand. he gave himself a few pumps before letting go, sliding his hand up your bare, inner thigh, his touch causing goosebumps to raise on your skin, rubbing over the damp patch on your panties.

he slipped his fingers under the pair of lacy panties, peeling them down your your legs and discarding them. "stop teasing me..." you whine, wiggling your hips as your boyfriend let out a grumble of laughter.

aaron's hands pulled your legs apart, and you felt him slide the tip of his cock up and down your slit, gathering some of your arousal before positioning himself at your entrance, "you're so wet, sweetheart..." he murmured, his lips attaching themselves onto your neck, each nip pulling a gasp from you, "i've waited so long for this."

you were about to answer him, only to be cut off when you felt him push the head of his cock into you, your eyes fluttering shut as aaron let out a slow breath into the side of your neck.

you felt every inch of him as he pushed himself deeper, filling you. aaron started moving his hips, pulling out of your cunt until only the tip of his cock was inside of you and thrusted back into you, your tight, gummy walls clenching around him in a way that made him groan, and although he was trying to go slow, the rocking of his hips grew more intense.

even though it was your first time together, your hips met each of his thrust like out of instinct, and every time you felt the head of his cock kiss your cervix, it drove you crazy.

aaron's thumb found its way to your clit, stroking the fire inside of you, causing the knot in your stomach to tighten, your nails digging into his back, the man letting out a groan as his hips started rocking into you at a faster pace, "i-i'm-"

before you could even finish telling him, you felt the band in your stomach snap with the force of your orgasm, your walls starting to clench around aaron as heat radiated through your body, his thrusts slowing down until his hips stilled, his cock buried inside of you, a groan of your name leaving his lips as you felt him paint your walls white with his cum.

for a moment, the two of you just stayed in that position, letting out heavy breaths until he pulled back, looking down at you with a small smile as he tugged a strand of your hair behind your ear, "that was..."

"aaron hotchner, if you say great, i'm kicking you out of bed." you interrupted, making him chuckle.

"i was going to say amazing." aaron grinned and pressed his forehead against yours, "but it was great too."

[giuliannna]

HIGH & DRY | PT 3

you and hamzah stop tiptoeing around your situation, but fail to be careful about it. read parts one and two here

“we’ll only be twenty minutes or so,” martin says, grabbing the grocery list that’s scrawled with numerous ingredients in hamzah’s messy handwriting - the aftermath of your brainstorming while trying to decide what to cook for dinner.

“thirty,” mandy mutters, tying her shoes by the front door. “depending on traffic.”

hamzah just lifts a hand in a lazy wave from his seat beside you on the couch. “uh-huh. have fun.”

the door shuts. there’s a second of silence, before you hear the inevitable flick of a lighter. hamzah’s already pulling a blunt from his hoodie pocket.

“dude,” you laugh, leaning your head back. “did you seriously bring that over here?”

“i bring one everywhere,” he shrugs, lighting up.

you sigh. martin and mandy’s house is too pure for this.

you glance at their cat trees, the water bowls and pet beds. the matching throw blankets draped across the couch. the floral candle that’s lit on the TV stand, soon to be overthrown by the skunky aroma of weed.

the smell hits immediately - earthy and potent, curling into the clean air like it couldn’t care less about how domestic everything looks.

he takes a drag. passes it. you inhale and exhale. it’s a routine.

silence stretches for a few seconds while the two of you get comfortably high. a buzz blankets over you both - making the room feel warmer and the space between your bodies more charged with some sort of hazy energy.

now you're both slouched on their couch, staring up at the ceiling, legs touching. the blunt's halfway done and the living room feels like you hotboxed it with intention.

hamzah exhales slow, watching the smoke swirl above you. he gets your attention with a lazy nudge of your thigh.

you turn your head. “hmm?”

his eyes are already red. his lips are pink and shiny, a stark contrast to the gray plumes of smoke pouring from them.

“we should just fuck for real.” he sighs out.

you laugh, not even phased by his bluntness. “we did, though. even when you kept saying it didn’t count.”

he makes a face. “yeah, but like, for real.” he repeats, like it’ll change anything about what he said.

you snort, choking a little on smoke. “dude, c’mon.”

he shrugs. “m’just sayin.”

you pause, holding the blunt between your fingers. “so - what, you just wanna do it without feelin’ weird? cause it’s official?”

“uh-huh.” he reaches for the blunt, snatching it from your grasp. “pretty much.”

“really?”

hamzah shrugs again, stoned and shameless. “yeah, really. what don’t you get?” he teases. “you’re my best friend. and i’m askin’ you to fuck.”

you lips tug into a small grin. “so romantic.”

“you’re fallin’ for it, so.. yeah.”

you can’t argue. not when his hand is now sliding up your thigh, and you already know where this is going.

the blunt’s nothing but a memory now - burnt out and forgotten in a dish on the coffee table.

your shirt's pushed up. his hoodie's halfway off. your shorts are on the floor. his sweats are shoved just low enough.

and he's pulling your underwear to the side while mumbling, "don’t even take ‘em off.”

his hips are already slotted between your thighs, his frame hovering over you while the two of you try to remember how to breathe.

hamzah’s cock presses against your entrance, and everything’s so warm. you’re already soaked from how long this exact moment has plagued your mind.

“wait- wait, you good?” he mumbles, voice raspy and a little too stoned.

you nod, eyes barely open. “mhm.”

“okay. cool. that’s.. yeah. cool.”

he pushes in slowly.

you both let out matching, low groans as he sinks in - inch by inch, careful but not gentle. you’re high enough to feel everything, and he’s high enough to start twitching before he’s even fully in.

“oh, shit,” he murmurs, a million thoughts rushing through his mind. he’s not sure which ones he should vocalize. “oh my god, uh, you feel - fuck, you’re so..”

“shut up.” your voice is already shaky, your cheeks are deeply flushed and burning hot.

he bottoms out and stays there for a second - just looking at you. the way you stretch around him. the way your lips part like you’re trying to find words that don’t exist.

he drags his palm up your side, watching his hand spread across your ribs, his thumb swiping the edge of your bra.

“you’re pretty.”

you laugh, turning your head into the couch cushion. “oh, my god. you’re really high.”

he just grins. “you’re still pretty.”

his hips pull back slightly before he pushes in again - slow, lazy, way too deep. you choke on a moan, legs falling wider open around him without meaning to.

“fuck,” you breathe out, completely exasperated.

he groans lowly, his head dropping into the crook of your neck. “this position’s so unfair,” he mumbles. “i can see everything.”

you slap his arm. “stop narrating. you’re so weird.”

“can’t help it,” he pants, pulling out and rocking back in. “you just look so- i don’t know. fuck.”

you wrap your arms around his neck without any hesitancy, your hands buried in his hoodie as he starts fucking you. it’s slow and heavy and so warm that it makes your vision blur.

it’s gross. it’s sticky. it’s so high.

you both keep giggling under your breath every time you moan. like it's funny how good it feels. like it's silly that you're doing this in martin and mandy’s living room, of all places.

“shit, hamzah-” you pant. “you’re so deep.”

"yeah?" he pulls back to smirk at you. “told you m’good at this.”

his hips pick up this slow, sloppy rhythm. he’s not even trying to fuck you hard, he just wants to feel you all the way. his cock hits the deepest part of you over and over until your back arches off the couch and you’re gasping into his hoodie.

"shit," he mutters. "feels really good."

the couch squeaks beneath you. the armrest digs into your back. one of the throw pillows hits the floor.

it’s slow, drugged-up sex that burns in your belly and lingers under your skin. his hips flex under you with just enough rhythm to keep you gasping. sweat beads at your temple. your body is burning hot.

"we’re actually the worst," you choke out. "we’re on mandy’s fuckin’ fancy-ass couch."

“yeah, and you’re making a mess on it,” he mumbles, voice so low you feel it in your chest. “you’re fucking dripping.”

you slap him again, weakly. “don’t say shit like that.”

he laughs into your neck, breath hot and shaky. “you love it.”

you do.

hamzah groans and buries his face in your neck, his hands gripping under your thighs and pulling them up higher until your knees are damn near to your chest.

you’re folded. split open. wrapped around him in a mess of limbs and heat.

your whole body is buzzing, mouth open, barely breathing - just taking it. letting him fuck you deep and slow and so intimately it makes your stomach twist.

his hand slips between your legs without warning. two fingers rub over your clit, and your head jerks back against the armrest with a choked whine.

you cover your mouth with your palm. he hates it.

he grabs your wrist and pins it to the cushion beside your head. “don’t,” he murmurs, thrusting again. “wanna hear you.”

you moan involuntarily - not loud, but broken. he laughs a little, totally breathless. you laugh too.

he holds your gaze while he fucks you - cock disappearing inside you with every thrust, your thighs trembling, his hoodie damp with sweat where your hands are still grabbing at him.

“stay still,” he pleads, sensing through his drug-hazed mind that you’re both close to losing all sense of composure. “just let me - fuck - let me watch you cum.”

you nod, shaking, jaw slack as he rocks into you again. your limbs feel loose, your thoughts melting into heat and haze. you’re both moaning now, messy and uncoordinated.

the sound of your bodies pounding into the couch is obscene. you think you could cum just from the weight of him on top of you, the way he keeps whispering “just like that, good girl, fuck - that’s it-”

you’re right there. so fucking close - and the door opens.

you hear it.

hamzah doesn’t.

not until the grocery bags hit the floor.

“what the- what the fuck?!” martin yells. hamzah freezes, still fully inside you.

you’re under him, arms gripping his back, legs around his waist. the whole couch is creaking and the house reeks of weed and sex.

your eyes snap to the door. mandy’s standing there, staring, mouth open, one hand still clutching her car keys.

martin’s just pointing. “you.. in my house? on my couch?!”

“my couch.” mandy corrects him, sounding much less shocked than martin.

you slap your hands over your face with a groan. “oh, my god-”

“are you-” martin’s voice cracks mid-sentence. “hamzah! you’re literally still- why are you still moving?”

“m’not,” hamzah lies pathetically, his mind too stoned and his body too needy for his own good.

you grab the throw blanket and yank it over your face and chest, your legs still tangled under him, entire body humming with leftover pleasure and absolute shame.

mandy, still frozen, mutters, “i knew it.”

martin stares at her. “you knew?”

“it was obvious. i told you, martin. phone call? the way she was out of breath and hung up out of nowhere?”

martin groans, annoyed by how right she is.

“this is so much worse than what i saw last time.” he huffs.

“can’t believe you fully caught them first and still didn’t figure it out,” mandy says, exasperated, still eyeing you two like a car crash in her living room that she can’t look away from. “i told you they’re hooking up.”

“we aren’t!” you yell from under the blanket.

“you are right now!” martin nearly screams, completely overwhelmed.

another stretch of silence.

then hamzah - who’s still flushed, still high, still inside you - sheepishly asks, “..we still get dinner though, right?”

a/n: happy 4/20 guys ayyy

xoxo giulia

taglist: @gulicore @slushedup @arroganceisherfavoritecolor @layzerzlovesu46 @babysitter19 @marixoa @starjely @viennawaiits @a1exaaaa @freakzah444 @anginluv @gabwilliams @sturniyolo @screamertannie @brlwla @yourstrulykiya @thefantastickid @hamzaholic @divinesturn @forestlv4r @mayapuma20 @ottakugirl @hamzahsbestone @pulcen @rustnroll @venus-planetof-love @nickmillersn1gf @rock678 @wandas-lovey @guiltyfemcel @axetheboyboss @harrys0nlyange1 @ttlynotme

special mention for @isathefantastic who convinced me to take a break from my break .. ౨ৎ

[alohajix]

𝐔𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐈 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤

Description: when Ember comes home from college, the last person she expects to fall for is her brother’s best friend. But one stolen kiss turns into something neither of them can walk away from.

Warnings: this one-shot contains mature themes and explicit content such as praise kink, oral sex (f receiving), soft dominance, no protection sex (pack it before you tape it guys), emotional vulnerability, mention of past toxic relationship. Readers +18.

Words count: 5.5K.

enjoy guys 💕

*****

The house smelled like home the moment I stepped inside—fresh laundry, old hardwood floors, and the lingering scent of the cinnamon candle Mom used to light before she left. I kicked my shoes off near the door and dragged my suitcase over the threshold, already hearing laughter coming from the kitchen.

I wasn’t expecting company. Not this early.

“Ember?” my brother’s voice called out. “That you?”

“Yeah,” I answered, dropping my bag by the stairs. “Didn’t know you were home.”

He stepped into the hallway, grinning as he wiped his hands on a dish towel. “Got in yesterday. I’ve got someone helping me fix the garbage disposal.”

And that’s when I saw him. Harry. Leaning against the doorframe like he’d always belonged there, curls damp from the heat, sleeves pushed up over his forearms, a lazy smile tugging at his lips. He looked taller. Or maybe broader. Or maybe I’d just spent too much time trying to forget how good he looked in gray sweatpants and worn-in t-shirts.

“Hey, Em,” he said, voice a little lower than I remembered. “Long time.”

I blinked, swallowing the flutter in my chest. “Hey. Yeah. Been a while.”

He pushed off the frame and walked over, arms wide like we were just friends. Like it was normal. I hesitated, then stepped into his hug. Warmth. Familiar. Strong hands on my back, not lingering but not rushed either. His chest against mine just long enough to make me realize how far from little I felt in his arms.

He pulled back with a wink. “Didn’t expect you home so soon.”

“Semester ended early,” I said. “I needed a break.”

“Yeah?” His eyes searched mine for a beat too long. “Break from what?”

Before I could answer, my brother clapped a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “From idiot boyfriends, probably.”

Harry’s jaw tightened just slightly. Barely enough to notice.

I offered a forced smile. “Something like that.”

“Well,” my brother said, oblivious. “You can help us haul stuff from the garage later. We’re clearing out Dad’s old workbench.”

“Perfect,” I muttered, trying not to look at Harry again. But I felt him. Every time he moved, every time his gaze flicked toward me, like he was trying to figure something out.

He followed my brother back into the kitchen, and I stood frozen in the hallway, heart hammering. Harry Styles was in my house. The same boy who used to tease me for having braces and cried laughing when I fell into the pool in my clothes. The same man who’d ghosted me for years only to show up now—looking like that, sounding like that—and calling me Em like nothing had changed. But everything had changed. Especially me.

*****

The sun had started its descent by the time I wandered outside with a cold drink in hand. The sky was orange and hazy, casting that kind of dreamy light that made everything feel warmer than it was. I found them both in the garage, boxes pulled apart and tools spread out across the workbench.

Harry had shed his hoodie. Now he was in a black tank top that clung to his chest, shoulders flexing every time he reached for something. There was grease on his fingers. A smear on his jaw. I stared a second too long before he caught me. His lips curved. I looked away.

“You good?” my brother asked without glancing up.

“Yeah,” I said, walking over. “Need help?”

“We could use some sorting,” Harry offered, pulling open a dusty drawer. “Unless you’re too delicate for a little dirt.” There was that old teasing tone again. Familiar. Comfortable. Dangerous.

I raised an eyebrow. “I’m not the one wearing white sneakers in a garage.”

He laughed—soft and surprised. “Alright then. Let’s see what you’ve got, Em.”

He handed me a box, our fingers brushing. Just a light touch, but my stomach flipped. I turned away too quickly. We worked in near silence for a while, but not the awkward kind. My brother had music playing low on a speaker, something classic and mellow, and the three of us moved around each other like a lazy rhythm. Occasionally, Harry would say something under his breath that made me smile. Once, he nudged my hip when I was in the way, murmuring a soft “excuse me, trouble.” My brother didn’t seem to notice the way Harry watched me. Or maybe he did, and he was in denial. Because I was me, and Harry was Harry, and there were unspoken rules.

Rules Harry had always followed. Until now.

When the sun finally dipped behind the trees, my brother called it. “Alright, I’m starving. Chinese?”

“Sounds good,” Harry said, stretching his arms behind his head.

I shouldn’t have looked. But I did. Veins. Biceps. The smallest hint of a tattoo under the edge of his tank. I tore my eyes away before either of them caught me staring.

“I’ll shower quick,” my brother added, heading inside. “Don’t eat all the spring rolls before I get back.”

I rolled my eyes, then turned to grab another box—only to bump straight into Harry’s chest.

He caught my waist, steadying me. “Careful.”

My hands landed on his stomach, firm under the thin cotton of his shirt. I should have stepped back. Should have said something casual. But my mouth went dry. So did his.

His hands lingered a little too long. “You alright?” he asked softly.

I nodded, my voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah. Just tired.”

His thumb brushed against my side like he didn’t mean to—but we both knew he did. His jaw clenched. Eyes dropped to my lips. For a second, I thought he might kiss me. Right there. In the garage. With my brother just inside. But he didn’t.

Instead, he stepped back. And smiled like he hadn’t just pulled the air out of my lungs.

“I’ll go clean up too,” he said, grabbing his hoodie off the stool. “Don’t want to scare the delivery guy.”

He walked past me, and I let my eyes follow him—until he glanced back. Caught me again. This time, he didn’t look away.

*****

The house had gone still. That late-night kind of quiet, when everything feels heavier—footsteps, thoughts, the tension you’ve been pretending not to feel all day.

I crept down to the kitchen barefoot, needing water. Maybe space. Maybe something to make sense of the way Harry had looked at me in the garage. The way I could still feel his hands on my waist hours later.

I didn’t expect him to be there. He stood with the fridge door open, bathed in the pale glow of the light. Hair damp from his shower, curls loose and messy. Just a plain white t-shirt now. Grey sweatpants slung low on his hips.

He looked over his shoulder when he heard me. “Couldn’t sleep either?”

I shook my head. “Too much on my mind.”

He grabbed two bottles of water and passed me one. Our fingers touched again, and this time, neither of us looked away. We stood there in silence for a few seconds, the kind that pulses with everything unsaid. Then he leaned against the counter, arms folded.

“You alright?” he asked quietly. Not casual this time. Real.

I nodded, but it wasn’t convincing.

“Ember.” My name in his voice did something to me. Made my throat tighten.

I swallowed hard. “It’s just weird being home. Everything feels the same but I don’t.”

He watched me like he wanted to ask why. Like he already knew.

“That guy you were with,” he said after a moment. “Your brother told me a little. Didn’t sound like he treated you right.”

I looked down, gripping the bottle in my hand.

“He didn’t.” Harry’s jaw tightened again, that same flash of protectiveness I’d seen earlier rising up in him. But softer this time. More personal.

“He ever hurt you?” he asked, voice low. Controlled.

“Not like that,” I said. “Just… made me feel small. Like I was always too much or not enough.”

Harry stepped closer, slow, deliberate. “You were never too much. Or not enough.”

I looked up at him, my chest aching. “You don’t even know me anymore.” He moved closer still. Inches away now.

“Maybe not,” he said. “But I want to.”

The room shrank around us. The hum of the fridge faded. My pulse roared in my ears.

“You can’t,” I whispered, barely trusting myself. “You’re—”

“Your brother’s best friend,” he finished, stepping even closer.

I nodded, heart pounding.

He searched my face, voice hushed and rough. “Do you want me to stop?” I didn’t answer. Because I didn’t want him to.

His hand came up, fingers brushing a strand of hair from my cheek. My breath hitched. And then he kissed me. Soft. Careful. Like he was giving me the chance to pull away. I didn’t.

I leaned in, my hands finding his chest, gripping the front of his t-shirt like it was the only thing holding me together. He deepened the kiss, his hands moving to my waist, then my back, then curling into my hair like he’d been waiting to do it for years. We pulled apart once. Barely. His forehead rested against mine.

“This is a bad idea,” he said.

“Yeah,” I breathed. “Really bad.”

But neither of us moved. His lips brushed mine again—so gently, so reverently, like he was memorizing the shape of them. And I knew we were past the point of turning back.

We didn’t say anything as we crept upstairs. The house was too quiet, too easy to get caught, but I didn’t care—not with the way Harry’s hand brushed the small of my back as we moved, not with how his eyes stayed on me even in the dark. We passed my brother’s room without a sound. The hallway stretched long and silent, but it felt like fire under my skin.

I pushed my bedroom door open slowly. He followed me in, closing it behind us with a soft click. We stood there for a beat. Breathing. Thinking. Not thinking.

His voice came low in the dark. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“I know,” I whispered. “But I don’t want you to stop.” That was all it took.

His mouth was on mine before the words had even finished leaving my lips, rougher this time. Hungrier. His hands cupped my jaw, his body pressing me back until my legs hit the edge of the bed. I fell into the mattress with a soft gasp, and he followed, crawling over me, one hand sliding under the hem of my shirt.

“You’re driving me insane,” he murmured against my neck, voice thick and strained. “You have no idea what it’s been like all day… trying not to touch you.”

I arched into him. “Then stop trying.”

His groan was quiet but deep, vibrating through me as his hand slipped higher, over my ribs, under my bra. His mouth kissed down my neck, open and wet, teeth grazing lightly.

“F*ck,” he whispered. “You feel so good already. I shouldn’t be doing this.”

I cupped his face, pulled him back to look at me. “Then make it worth it.” That flipped something in him.

His mouth crashed into mine, tongue sweeping in, hands tugging my shirt over my head. He pulled away just enough to look down at me, chest rising hard, eyes blown wide in the soft darkness.

“No bra?” he breathed, voice like gravel.

I smiled. “Too lazy. Regret it?”

He laughed—low, dangerous—and leaned down to take one nipple into his mouth. My back arched instinctively, breath catching as his tongue flicked and sucked, his hand kneading the other breast like he couldn’t get enough.

“F*ck,” I whispered, fingers threading through his curls. “You’re not supposed to be this good.”

He looked up at me, lips wet. “Baby, I’ve barely started.”

Then his hand slid down my stomach, fingertips teasing the waistband of my shorts.

“You gonna let me taste you?” he asked, voice dark and sweet. “Wanna see if you’re as sweet down there as you are up here.”

I swallowed hard. “Take them off.”

He smirked, and then my shorts were gone. My panties, too. All in one smooth motion that made my heart race. And when he spread my thighs open with both hands, his eyes locked on mine and he said, “Don’t look away. I want you to watch me fall apart over this p*ssy.”

I couldn’t look away if I tried. Harry was on his knees at the edge of the bed, fingers wrapped around my thighs like he’d never let go. His eyes never left mine—not even when he leaned in, lips ghosting just above where I ached for him most. He kissed the inside of my knee first. Then a little higher. Then the other leg. Soft, warm, maddening kisses that made my hips twitch.

“Fuck,” he whispered under his breath, voice thick with awe. “You’re already shaking.” I breathed out a laugh, barely.

“Maybe because you’re torturing me.”

He grinned. “Not torture, love. Just… appreciating.”

And then he kissed the crease of my thigh—slow, reverent—his stubble scraping gently against my skin. His hands stroked along the tops of my thighs, thumbs tracing lazy circles that only made everything burn more. He paused just before his mouth reached me, hovering.

“You want this?” he asked, quiet and serious.

“Yes.” My voice cracked on the word.

He leaned in, lips parting, and kissed me there—soft and warm and so slow I thought I might lose my mind. A long lick, flat and firm, made my head fall back.

“Jesus,” I gasped.

He chuckled softly. “Sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.”

His tongue moved with more purpose now, slow laps between my folds, taking his time. Exploring. Learning. And when he flicked his tongue just right, just enough pressure on my cl*t, I cried out without thinking. Harry groaned.

“That the spot?” he murmured, breath hot against me.

I nodded fast, hips lifting off the mattress. “Don’t stop.”

“I won’t.” He tightened his grip on my thighs, holding me open. “Not until you cum for me, Ember. Want to feel you shake on my tongue.”

My hand found his hair, fingers curling tight as he buried his face between my legs again—messier this time, more eager, like he was starving and I was the only thing he wanted.

“F*ck, Harry,” I moaned. “You’re so good.”

He hummed against me, the vibration shooting straight through me. His tongue swirled, circled, flicked in just the right rhythm until my breath turned shallow and my thighs started to tremble.

“Close, aren’t you?” he said, glancing up with that smug, wrecked look. His lips were slick, his jaw flushed. “You gonna cum for me, baby?”

I whimpered. “Yes—don’t stop, please—”

He didn’t. He held me steady and kept his mouth on me, his tongue relentless and patient, coaxing me toward the edge until it hit—

Hard.

My whole body tensed as I came, loud and breathless, legs shaking around his shoulders. He didn’t stop until I was gasping, writhing, too sensitive to take more. Only then did he pull back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, breathing just as hard as I was.

“I knew you’d fall apart for me,” he said, eyes dark. “F*cking knew it.”

Harry was still on his knees between my legs, breath ragged, lips swollen, and eyes full of something I couldn’t name—like worship and hunger had tangled together and taken him over completely. I reached for him.

“Come here,” I whispered.

He climbed up the bed slowly, dragging his hands along my sides, eyes searching mine like he was waiting for me to change my mind. I didn’t. My fingers found the hem of his shirt and tugged it up. He let me take it off without a word. His skin was warm and firm under my palms, the softest dusting of hair down the center of his chest leading lower. I wanted to feel all of him. I wanted him.

I slid my hands down his stomach, fingers dipping into the waistband of his sweatpants. He inhaled sharply as I slipped them down, his c*ck springing free—thick, flushed, already leaking at the tip.

“Jesus,” I breathed.

He let out a quiet laugh, rough and shaky. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

I wrapped my hand around him, slow and deliberate, just to watch the way his jaw clenched.

“Not bad,” I whispered. “Just… exactly what I wanted.”

He leaned over me, one hand braced beside my head, the other curling around my hip.

“You sure about this?” he asked again, voice hoarse. “Because if I start, I won’t be able to stop.”

I lifted my hips, lining him up against me, the blunt head of his c*ck brushing through my folds.

“I don’t want you to stop.” That was it.

He pushed in slowly—inch by inch—filling me, stretching me, making me gasp and grip his shoulders. His forehead dropped to mine, his groan deep and low as he sank all the way in.

“F*ck,” he breathed. “You feel like heaven.”

We stayed there for a moment, still and full of fire, just breathing each other in. Then he started to move. Slow, deep thrusts that made me gasp, made my back arch, made my body open to him in every way I could. His hand gripped my thigh, pulling it higher around his waist. His mouth found my jaw, my neck, my shoulder—pressing kisses like promises.

“Been thinking about this all day,” he whispered into my skin. “Thinking about how you’d feel. How you’d sound.”

I moaned beneath him, nails digging into his back. “You’re better than I ever imagined.”

That made him groan again—louder this time—and he picked up the pace, his hips hitting mine with more urgency, more desperation.

“Say that again,” he growled.

“You’re so good, Harry. So f*cking good.”

He lost it after that. His thrusts turned rougher, deeper, like he couldn’t get close enough. His hand tangled in my hair, pulling gently so he could look down at me.

“Look at me,” he said. “Wanna watch you fall apart on my c*ck.”

I did. I kept my eyes locked on his as he fucked me harder, every stroke hitting just right, until I was panting, shaking, crying out his name over and over.

“Come with me,” he whispered, mouth on my neck. “Wanna feel you cum when I do. Wanna feel you clench around me while I fill you up.”

The filthy promise pushed me over the edge. I shattered beneath him, body pulsing around him as he groaned loud and deep, hips stuttering as he came hard, spilling into me with a final, desperate thrust. He stayed there, buried inside me, forehead pressed to mine, both of us breathless and shaking. Neither of us said anything for a long time.

And then Harry kissed me—slow, deep, almost gentle. Like he already knew that this wasn’t just sex. That something about this mattered.

The room was still. Heavy with the scent of sweat and skin and sex. My sheets were twisted beneath us, and Harry’s arm was still wrapped tightly around my waist like he was afraid I’d disappear.

Neither of us moved for a while. I stared at the ceiling, trying to catch my breath, trying to make sense of the way I felt—like I’d just unraveled and been put back together all at once. Harry’s fingers traced lazy lines along my side. Up. Down. Around the curve of my hip. Gentle and aimless like he didn’t want the moment to end.

“You okay?” he asked softly, voice low and rough.

I nodded against his chest. “Yeah. Are you?”

He gave a small laugh, breath brushing my hair. “Pretty sure I just had the best sex of my entire life. So… yeah. I’m good.”

I smiled, hiding it against his skin. Then, quieter, he added, “Wasn’t just that, though.”

I looked up. His eyes were on me, softer now. Honest. “It wasn’t just sex for me. I don’t know what it was, but… it was more than that.”

Something tight in my chest loosened.

“Me too,” I whispered. “It felt… right. Even though it probably shouldn’t have.”

He brushed my hair off my face. “I never let myself think about it. Not seriously. You were always just Ember—your brother’s little sister.”

I smirked. “Not so little anymore.”

His hand slid down to squeeze my ass gently. “No. Definitely not.”

We both laughed, and for a second, everything felt lighter. Easier. But there was still something lingering under the surface.

“What happens now?” I asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Harry sighed, resting his forehead against mine. “That depends.”

“On what?”

“On if you want this to be a one-time thing,” he said slowly. “Or if you want me to risk your brother murdering me in the name of something real.”

I blinked. “You want something real?”

He nodded. No hesitation. “I do,” he said. “If you do.”

I leaned in, kissed him softly. “I want you.”

His smile was everything—soft and wrecked and relieved all at once.

“Then we’ll figure it out,” he whispered. “Even if it means sneaking around for a while. I’ll take whatever you give me.”

We stayed tangled like that for a long time. His arm around me, my fingers tracing shapes on his chest, our legs tangled under the sheets. At some point, he pulled the blanket up over both of us, and I let myself relax completely.

For the first time in a long time, I felt safe. Wanted. And maybe, just maybe… loved.

[ribbonedreverie]

A Taste of You

A Chuuya Happy Birthday special

The apartment was dim except for the halo of golden light circling the table—four little candles stabbing into a crooked, imperfect cake. The room smelled like butter, vanilla, and something warmer beneath: Effort. Sacrifice. Love.

You stood by the table, wiping your hands nervously against the fabric of your bottoms. You’d changed into something soft and simple—not seductive, but comfortable. Honest. You wanted him to see you as you were: someone who couldn’t afford much, but loved him so hard it ached.

You heard his keys at the door. His shoes hitting the floor. Then the weight of the day falling off his shoulders. The light from the hallway spilled into the room—and then, silence.

“…What the hell?” Chuuya murmured, voice gravelly with confusion and fatigue. He stepped inside slowly, his hair wind-tossed under his hat and his coat slung over his shoulder. His eyes found yours—and softened instantly.

You looked so gentle in the candlelight. So nervous. Like your entire heart was standing there on trembling legs. “Happy birthday,” you said, your voice barely more than a whisper.

He blinked once. Then again. “You remembered.”

“I never forgot.” He took another step forward. His gaze flicked to the cake, then back to you. “Did you… bake that?” You nodded, biting your lip. “I know it’s not pretty. I messed up the frosting, and I didn’t have the money to buy decorations, but—”

Chuuya reached you in two strides, his gloved hand lifting to cradle the side of your face. “Hey.” His voice was low, steady. “You made me a cake. You made me this.” His thumb stroked the edge of your cheek. “You think I give a damn what it looks like?”

Your throat tightened.

“I just wanted to make today feel… real. Like someone was happy you were born.” He exhaled, and it sounded like something heavy breaking. And then—he kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t fiery. It was slow and aching, the kind of kiss you only give someone when you need them like air. His lips molded against yours, warm and searching, his hand sliding back into your hair. You melted into him, breath catching as he deepened the kiss—gentle at first, then hungrier.

When he pulled back, his forehead pressed to yours. His breath fanned your lips. “You could’ve given me just that,” he said hoarsely, “and it would’ve been the best birthday I’ve had in years.” Your hands clutched at his shirt, anchoring yourself. “I wanted you to feel loved.”

“I do.” He kissed your temple, then your cheekbone. “God, I do.” He eased you back a step until your hips touched the edge of the table, the candles flickering. “Can I try it?” he asked softly. You nodded. He released his grip on you, stepped to the side and sliced a piece of the lopsided cake. You watched his movements—graceful, deliberate—even as your breath stuttered from how close he stood. He took a bite. Chewed. Swallowed. Then looked at you like you’d just offered him something sacred. “It tastes like you,” he murmured. You blinked. “Wh-What does that mean?”

He set the fork down, brushed the plates aside just enough to clear space, and closed the distance between you. His hands found your waist, guiding you gently until you were seated on the cleared edge of the table—beside the cake now. The candles flickered behind you. You gasped as he leaned down to whisper:

“Sweet. Soft. Fucking addictive.” His voice dipped lower. “Now I’m starving.”

You trembled. “Chuuya—”

His hands gripped your waist tighter as he pulled you against him, his nose brushing along your cheek, down your jaw, over your pulse. “You pour your soul into everything, don’t you?” he murmured, kissing the underside of your jaw. “Even a damn cake.”

“I didn’t have anything else to give,” you whispered, fingers clutching his shirt like a lifeline.

“Yes, you did,” he rasped. “You gave me you. That’s more than I’ve ever had.”

He laid you down onto the table, careful of the candles, careful of your clothing. His hands ran up your thighs as he stepped between your legs, his breath thick with emotion and want. “Let me thank you properly,” he whispered, lips grazing yours. You exhaled shakily, threading your fingers through his hair. “Please.”

And then—he kissed you again, slower, deeper. It wasn’t rushed or carnal. It was worship. It was hunger buried in love. His hands moved with aching patience, memorizing every inch of you like you were a prayer he’d never learned to say out loud.

Time melted while the candles burned low. And between cake crumbs and kisses, you made him feel more wanted, more human, than all the fine wines and tailored suits in the world ever had.

[indycinders]

Love and Valentine's :: LADS Headcanons

I've been feeling icky today so I decided to make fluffy, SFW headcanons for each boy and how they'd spend Valentine's Day with you (❁´◡`❁)

Maybe it's just my feed LMAO but I don't see enough fluff, or stuff catered to aces. Sometimes domesticity is better than smut.

Xavier - "You rest, I'll be by your side. Always."

🟣Would create a little nest in either of your apartments. Blankets draped over furniture, tons of pillows and plushies inside, fairy lights strung around providing soft lighting. 🟣He'd have a pile of movies, older romance ones that neither of you have seen before, ready and waiting for your first pick 🟣Bought all your favorite snacks and beverages 🟣Holds you close and strokes your hair or your arm, whatever he can trail his fingers over in gentle comforting strokes. 🟣Mostly watches your reactions during the movies, seeing what makes you light up and what you find too cheesy. 🟣Both of you would probably fall asleep, tangled together in the warm little fort he provided.

Zayne - "... You were the one who protected me in my dream."

🔹He prefers it when it's just you two, so he'd make your favorite meal at his house. 🔹Candles, your favorite flowers in a vase if you don't like roses, soft music. 🔹No wine or alcohol because he wants both of you to enjoy each other without the added effects of alcohol. 🔹Active listener while you talk over dinner, his attention is 100% on you. 🔹Fine with cuddling on the couch after dinner, watching your favorite movie or show. Seems to get invested in the media as well, giving you two something to gossip about during breaks. 🔹Orders a delicious dessert for both of you to share, teasing you by smearing a bit of chocolate on the tip of your nose. 🔹Ending the night cuddling on the couch again, his arms around you as he softly reads from a poetry book, the prose saying everything he struggles to.

Rafayel - "Our bond has existed for years."

🩷Sushi date? Sushi date. 🩷Walking barefoot on a private beach at sunset, holding your hand and listening to you chatter about anything and everything. He's attentive and focused on you. 🩷Still playful of course, so he'll tease you once in a while. Probably get into a splash fight near the water's edge. Laughing and chasing each other in the sand. Lifting you up and spinning you around until you both fall dizzy and breathless on the sand. 🩷Laying on the sand and watching the stars in the sky come out, his fire and warmth keeping both of you from freezing. 🩷Back in his studio and dressed in warmer pajamas, silly romcoms playing in the background as you two do that couples painting each other activity. 🩷Giggling at each other's depiction of the other. He paints a flower on your shoulder and you paint a little heart on his cheek. 🩷When it's late, you both cuddle in his bed as he sings your favorite Lemurian lullaby.

Sylus - "Who could ever do anything to me except you?"

⭕If you're into the whole lavish wining and dining, he'd 100% do it for you. Flowers, dressing to impress, dancing, all of it. ⭕Otherwise, he'd prepare one of your favorite meals or order take out for a night in. ⭕Both of you on the floor on some comfy blankets in front of the fireplace. A nice little in home picnic, your favorite records playing in the background. ⭕Playing board games or card games, whichever you prefer. Enjoying each other's company. ⭕Dancing in your socks and comfy clothes around the living room, giggling every time he spins you or dips you. ⭕Hide and seek with Mephisto because of course. ⭕Carrying you up to the bedroom and whispering how sweet you were today. ⭕Holding you in his arms as you sleep, humming softly the way he knows relaxes you.

Caleb - "No matter what happens, I'll always be the first person you can share things with."

🟧100% already had everything prepared for when you came. 🟧All your favorite dishes made. 🟧Also bought your favorite candy/chocolate like he did every year before. 🟧Both of you wearing matching sweaters because you're adorably dorky like that. 🟧Recreating pictures from when you were younger. 🟧Nerf gun fight? Nerf gun fight. 🟧Will pull you into his lap as you cuddle on his bed and watch movies. Both of you wearing face masks because he does everything with you. 🟧Will give you a massage if you need it, otherwise happy to just cuddle and fall asleep with you in his arms.

I hope I did them justice! uwu I might do a HC thing for disabled/chronically ill peeps like myself as well. All the comfort (❁´◡`❁) Which date night would you prefer out of the above? :3

[anything-pov]

reader serenades Emily on a restaurant rooftop in paris it's bought out for the night 

there's a piano

reader decides to go and play a song for Em

maybe even sings

Emily is so in love actually start tearing up(her version of sobbing)

Reader propose to Emily on a secluded rooftop in Paris!!!!

Enjoy Sunflower 🌻

The Proposal 💍

The sky over Paris had just started to soften into dusky lavender when Emily stepped into the candlelight glow of the restaurant's terrace, her black dress hugging her silhouette perfectly with a shawl to match.

Y/N stood waiting in a perfectly tailored midnight-blue suit, open collar just enough to be casual, but polished with her signature edge. She didn't take her eyes off Emily until she reached the table.

Y/N pulled Emily's chair out, brushed a kiss to her knuckles and sat opposite with a look that said she still couldn't believe her luck.

The place was exquisite, crystal chandeliers, gold accents, a view of the Eiffel Tower from the windows, and the sound of clinking glasses blending with the soft jazz coming from the small quartet.

In the middle of them sat an unattended glossy black baby grand piano. They shared champagne and soft laughter through dinner, filet mignon for Emily, duck à l’orange for Y/N.

Dessert was nearly finished when Y/N stood up suddenly, “Where are you going?” Emily asked, brows lifted in amused suspicion. Y/N just smirked, “Trust me, sweetheart.”

They walked across the restaurant to the piano, catching the attention of the musicians as she gently gestured toward the keys. After a quiet exchange in French, they nodded and adjusted their tempo.

Y/N unbuttoned her jacket and sat at the piano, rolling her sleeves just a touch as she placed her fingers on the keys. The first few bars of “La Vie en Rose” drifted out from beneath her hands.

Soft, elegant, perfectly paced. Emily froze, eyes wide, hand gently fluttering to her lips. Then Y/N sang. In flawless French, her rich, low voice rolled through the restaurant like velvet.

" Quand il me prend dans ses bras Il me parle tout bas Je vois la vie en rose… "

Emily’s heart clenched.

" Il me dit des mots d’amour Des mots de tous les jours Et ça me fait quelque chose… "

The band joined in one by one, violin, upright bass, saxophone, like the city itself had conspired with Y/N. Every guest turned toward her, but Y/N only had eyes for love.

When the final note echoed out, the restaurant burst into gentle applause, but Emily didn’t clap. She stood, breathless, teary, and walked straight to Y/N, grabbing her cheeks with both hands to kiss her.

“You are unbelievable,” she whispered against her lips. Y/N gave her a secretive grin. “You haven’t seen anything yet.” They laced their fingers together and led her upstairs, past waitstaff who opened the doors with knowing smiles.

The rooftop was magic.

Hundreds of tiny candles flickered in hurricane jars arranged in winding paths across the stone floor. A scattering of petals curved around a table with two glasses of champagne already waiting.

In the far corner, the Eiffel Tower glittered just above the city skyline. Y/N turned to face Emily, hands slightly trembling now.

“I set this up… weeks ago,” they admitted softly. “I knew I wanted to do it here. In the city of lights, in the city of love. Because you... you make everything brighter. Everything warmer. You make me feel like I’m seeing life in color for the first time.”

Emily’s eyes brimmed with tears. Y/N dropped to one knee and opened the velvet box. “Emily Prentiss... will you marry me?” Emily let out a breathless laugh, crying now, nodding frantically.

“Yes,” she whispered, then louder. “Yes, yes, yes.”

Y/N slid the ring onto her finger, stood, and Emily kissed her so hard they nearly knocked over the closest candle. Paris glowed beneath them, and above them, and all around them.

The brightest part of the city right in front of Y/N's eyes, Emily.

[quinnysnursery]

little Tara where she usually likes going out on Friday nights but this Friday night was different

(AKA younger (19/20) year old cg takes care of little Tara! putting her in clothes that look like toddlers, cute socks, and has a cuddle night with You, Tara, and Sugar.)

[❤️] last friday night | tara yummy one-shot

paring : little!tara yummy x cg!fem!reader

summary : tara loves going partying...but sometimes staying in with her caregiver is more her forte

warning/extra tid-bits : use of y/n, SFW clothes changing scene, that's all!

word count : 593

divider credit : umm i found all the photos on pinterest :3 (roses from @saradika-graphics)

a/n : i actually hate wearing socks to bed and if you wear socks to bed i do judge you (not proof read, i'm just a girl!)

Tara’s phone vibrated against her leather couch, countless texts asking her if she was coming out tonight. She huffed out a frustrated breath, grabbing the cellular device and shutting it off completely- she wouldn’t need it tonight anyway.

On any typical Friday, she would be struggling to answer each of her friends whilst putting on an elaborate clubbing outfit. Tonight though, she sat happily on her deep-red persian rug, hair in pigtails and a fuzzy headspace cradling her brain.

“Tar! Come eat!” Her caregiver’s voice called out from the kitchen, Sugar was quick to leap off the couch and scamper off into the kitchen- paws pittering against the hardwood floor.

Tara followed after the beloved pup soon after, giggling that Sugar was going “too fast!”. “I made nuggets, is that okay?” Y/n asked, already plating the vegan nuggets onto a princess plate. 

“Mhm! T’ank ‘ou!” Tara smiled, hopping onto the kitchen counter barstool and swinging her feet against the air. Y/n smiled at her girl, placing the princess-themed plate in front of her and quickly fixing a stray hair that fell in front of Tara’s face.

“No feeding Sugar, he’s already had his food.” Y/n reminded gently, much to Sugar’s dismay. Tara grumbled about this too, but quickly got to eating her dinner. 

“Mama’s gonna pick out your PJ’s. Be right back.” The carer said, pressing a quick kiss to Tara’s temple before exiting the kitchen and making her way upstairs. You pushed open the door to Tara’s nursery, the soft pink glow from various different fairy lights inviting you in the room.

The nursery always smelled of powdery roses, thanks to the candle warmer that sat atop the dresser. Y/n tugged open the pajama drawer, looking over the various different options. Eventually settling for a set of cotton polka dot pajamas and frilly white socks. 

Not long after, Tara’s dishes were in the sink and Y/n was helping her change into said pajamas. “Arms up!” The caregiver chimed, Tara giggled as she obeyed. 

Y/n quickly hooked the polka dot shirt over Tara’s head and arms, pulling it down. “All done!” Tara giggled, earning a genuine smile from her carer. 

“Go brush your teeth and mama’ll put on a movie.” Y/n smiled, Tara nodded and called Sugar to “help” her. 

Grabbing the remote off of the dresser, Y/n flicked on the TV and scrolled through the countless streaming apps, eventually deciding on Disney+. She scrolled through the profiles, passing Jake, Carrington and Johnnie’s before clicking on Tara’s- smiling at the little’s Vanellope Von Schweetz profile picture. 

Just as Y/n was about to call out, asking what the regressed girl wanted to watch- Tara shouted through a sudsy mouth, “I wan’ wa’ch, ‘punzel!” 

The caregiver chuckled, finding the requested movie and pausing it before the intro could begin playing. Soon enough, Tara came out of the bathroom with Sugar following closely behind. 

The trio laid on the soft bed, a nest of pillows and blankets just waiting to be cuddled with. It didn’t take long for Tara to curl up in her caregivers arms, Sugar resting at the end of bed- already half asleep.

Y/n made sure to hit play on the movie before fully cuddling up to Tara, allowing her little to fully sink into her arms- big brown eyes fixated on the TV screen. 

The soft glow from the fairylights paired with the powdery aroma soon soothed both Y/n and Tara into a deep, restful sleep- soft snores filling the room.

taglist !! :

@mattssturnz @littlestar44 @graceslittlecorner @zivall

@hrtz4alex2211 @bimbob1tch @sturnsxplr-25 @cherry-red-heart

@pr3ttyf4wn @frlinbruh @jazminepetit-homme @raynaaxx

@tyummyz @starri-nightss @cyberskulzzz @nicksbestie

@urfavbestiee @nicksloverrr @babybatxxx @ivysturnss

@babybatxxx @emogxilbert

[a-case-of-attachment]

The Lamb & The Serpent

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x sinner fem!reader

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Lucifer being a chaotic mess, sex, p in v, swearing, virgin reader, first time, awkwardness, Lucifer being awkward, fluff, relationship are hard sometimes that’s why communication is key, romance isn’t dead, Lucifer and his oral fixation, wholesome smut, they are in love your honour.

Please click -> here <- to read on AO3

After his little chat with Asmodeus and his subsequent awaking to what had actually been going on over the past couple of months Lucifer had every intention of sitting you down so he could apologise for his poor behaviour and reassure you that he was very much interested in what you were offering. That had been the plan anyway but unfortunately things just hadn’t gone his way and Lucifer had been forced to spend the last three day refereeing the ongoing argument between Asmodeus and Mammon as they bickered over the little clown imp they both had their eye on. It had been a headache inducing mess, one that had ended with Lucifer snapping at the embodiment of greed, his horns and tale making an appearance when he had missed yet another call from you.

He was beyond glade it was over with, and Lucifer had barely even managed to say goodbye to Asmodeus before he was teleporting home, appearing in his lobby and just about ready to hide away in his work room until he could stomach being social again. Maybe with an exception or two. Lucifer would very much like to waist a couple of days curled up with you on the sofa as well as having the chance to catch up with Charlie. He could always invite Charlie over for afternoon tea and a chat, maybe even invite Vaggie along as well. Considering she was the love of Charlie’s life he really hadn’t spent enough time getting to know her. Plus, she was an angel, so they already had something in common. Though maybe not the best thing to bond over considering neither of them was likely to want to talk about that aspect of their lives. Maybe you could come along as well and after Charlie and Vaggie had gone the two of you could actually have that conversation about what you wanted from the other physically that you probably should of had a month or so ago.  With a plan in mind Lucifer had planned on going straight to bed when he got in but apparently, he wasn’t the only one with plans for his evening. 

He knew something was off the moment he appeared in the lobby, the small space feeling warmer than normal and smelling faintly like apple pie. When he opens his eyes it’s to find candles scattered across every surface, the yellow flames glowing warmly and casting long shadows up the walls. The floor is scattered with petals, the light of the candles making them shimmer like an oil spill. Confused Lucifer eyes the trail of petals and candles suspiciously calling out a tentative “hello?” in the hopes of getting an answer for the unusual décor. There comes no answer but the floorboards above creak, letting him know that he’s not alone in the house. 

With a frown and a huff Lucifer followed the trail of petals and candle light down the hall and up the stairs, going as slowly and lightly as he can as not to make a sound. Logically he knows that no one down here can hurt him, not unless they had some form of angelic weaponry but that was unlikely considering they were still a rare and expensive commodity despite the amount of angels that had met their end down here over the eons. That doesn’t stop him from being cautious though. Just because a knife to the chest won’t kill him doesn’t mean it’s not going to hurt and despite his reputation amongst the living Lucifer isn’t really that into the whole pain and torture thing. It doesn’t really occur to him that it could be someone he knows who is responsible for the moody and romantic vibe. Even as he steps onto the landing and finds the trail leading to his bathroom door Lucifer doesn’t consider it, that is not till he’s stood in front of closed door and reading the note that had been stuck to the wood with a little duck shaped pin.

His hand trembled a little as he reaches up to take it down, tears clinging to his lashes as his heart swells with the love he had for you. He reads it twice, eyes dragging across the page slowly because he can’t quite believe what he’s reading. You wanted to take care of him, worried that he had been overdoing it the last couple of days and knowing full well he wouldn’t look after himself. You had given him strict instructions to relax, insisting that he spend at least an hour in the bath and that he not think about anything work related. That had him laughing, wiping away his tears as he imagined you stood there with your arms crossed over your chest and looking at him expectantly, your little lamb ears completely ruining the stern look you were going for. Adorably cute and just begging to kissed. 

He couldn’t believe you had done this for him. Yes, the candles and petals seemed a bit over the top, but Lucifer liked it all the same. It must have taken you a while to set it all up and his heart feels like it might burst when he realises what that means about how you must feel about him. Surely if you didn’t love him then you wouldn’t have gone to such lengths? And if you were doing romantic things like this then that meant he hadn’t messed up as badly as he had feared. 

Oh. 

You were wooing him! The realisation had Lucifer feeling giddy, practically bouncing in place he was so excited. He had never been wooed before. Yes, Lilith had loved him, had told him often and never denied him any physical displays of affection but she had never been one for grand displays or romantic gestures. That had been Lucifers thing, always the one showing up with gifts or ridiculously large bouquets of flowers. He was the one who made romantic dinners for the two of them, the one who would run her baths and brush her hair whilst telling her how beautiful she was, how he loved and adored her. He had done the wooing, not the other way round but now? Knowing that you were doing something special for him? Lucifer hadn’t felt this loved and cherished since, well, not for a very long time and he wasn’t really sure what to expect when he opened the door. 

He knew what he would do if it was him doing the romancing, had done it enough for Lilith before that it seemed like a logical conclusion that you would be waiting for him inside. Maybe he would catch you leant over the bath, fingers testing the water temperature and smiling ever so sweetly over your shoulder at him. Maybe you would be perched on the edge of the tub, waiting patiently for him to come to you and place a kiss upon your lips. Or maybe, just maybe you would already be in the bath, the bubbles keeping you hidden from him until he had stripped naked and sunk into the water with you. They’re all welcomed scenarios and Lucifer finds himself holding his breath as he slowly pushes the door open, leaning around it in an attempt to see what it was hiding from him.  

You are not in the bath, not in the room at all but what there are is more petals scattered across the tiled floor, candles placed on every available surface and giving the room a warm and inviting glow. The bath tub is full, steam curling up from the red bubbles and carrying with it the smell of cinnamon and clove. There’s a small table next to the bathtub, a small selection of candles sat on top of it along with a couple of bottles of toiletries. Bottles that hadn’t been in his house that morning when he left. The whole room looks like a scene from a romance novel, inviting Lucifer in and offering him something that he had never thought he would get to experience for himself. Yes, he is disappointed you aren’t there to share in it with him but after his behaviour these last few months he isn’t surprised that you are keeping your distance. Oh well, Lucifer will follow your orders, planning on luxuriating in the warm waters of his freshly drawn bath and then he would look for you, hopeful that you were still somewhere within his home and not having snuck back to the hotel whilst he was preoccupied. He had a lot to thank you for and didn’t feel like waiting till morning to do so. 

With a smile still firmly in place Lucifer followed the trail of petals over the vanity, already pulling off his jacket and eyeing his bath excitedly only to be brought to a sudden stop when his foot hits something soft and squishy. Frowning Lucifer looked down, stepping back slightly so he could get a better look at what he had trodden on. Two sets of black beady eyes stare lifeless back at him from within a round yellow face. Ducks. He’s looking down at ducks. Two large squishy duck plushies with holes in their backs. Are they slippers? Confused Lucifer went to bend down and pick one up, placing his hand in the counter for balance except his hand didn’t touch the cool marble it should have. Instead his fingers sank into something soft and fluffy, Lucifer turning his head to see what it was only to come face to face with even more ducks except these ones are printed onto a deep blue fabric, the space in between decorated with little white stars that seemed to sparkle in the candle light. 

Abandoning his original task Lucifer stood back up, frowning down at the neatly folded fabric and the small white card that sat on top, his name scrawled in your familiar font on the front. Turns out they were a gift for him, a set of matching flannel pyjamas and plushie slippers for him to change into after his bath. Lucifer had stood there for a long few minutes, card in hand and staring down at his rubber ducky slippers trying not to cry because of how happy he felt. 

It had been centuries since Lucifer had been gifted anything. Yes, he had received bribes and sacrificial offerings but that wasn’t the same. This was heartfelt, picked specifically because of who he was as a person and not because of his status. A part of him does question how you could afford the obvious expensive items because he knows that Charlie doesn’t pay you for the work you do at the hotel, but he squashes that down quickly deciding that it wasn’t important. He knew you, knew that however you had come to possess them it wouldn’t have been by nefarious means. Plus, he’s too happy to care. Not only had you arranged a candle lit bath for him, but you had also given him a gift. There was no doubt in his mind you were trying to woo him now, Lucifer feeling giddy and excited for what would come next. But first, he had a rather lovely bubble bath to sink into. 

He makes sure they are folded nicely, slippers tucked in against the vanity before he starts removing his clothes. He’s quick but methodical about it, removing one item after another and folding them neatly so he can stack them next to the pyjamas. His shoes get tucked under the unit next to his new slippers, his cane clipped onto the hook on the side and his hat placed gently atop the hat stand towards the back. Once naked Lucifer runs his hand over the soft fabric once more before turning and heading to the bath. 

The groan Lucifer makes as he sinks down into the warm spice scented water sounds practically sinful, but he doesn’t think he would have been able to contain it even if he had tried. It feels amazing, the water almost instantly soothing his aching muscles and helping him to relax. He doesn’t know what you had put in the water but whatever it was surely had to be made of magic of some kind because Lucifer doesn’t think he had ever felt this light and boneless before, just drifting peacefully as the warmth from the water seeped into his very core and left him feeling like he was floating on a cloud. Or maybe it’s just because it’s you that had done this for him that makes it feel a thousand times better than it ever had before. Magic or love? Maybe they were one and the same, intertwined so closely that you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. Lucifer couldn’t tell, all he knew was that he felt happy and loved and that was something he hadn’t felt in a very long time. 

He sits there for what feels like hours, mind blessedly calm and the water never getting cold. It’s only then, as he truly relaxes, that Lucifer hears it. The soft sound of music comes from his adjoining bedroom, the gentle mix of piano and violin creeping through the gaps under the door, hauntingly beautiful and painfully familiar even though Lucifer can’t quite recall where he had heard it before. He doesn’t remember if it had been playing the whole time and his breath catches at the thought of you being in his bedroom. So close yet hidden from him. He wants to call out to you, see if you will answer but he also doesn’t want to break this strange spell he finds himself under. Nor does he want to ruin something you must of worked so hard on. So, Lucifer stays quite, eyes slipping closed as he sinks further into the hot water and lets everything that had been weighing him down go, giving in to the tranquil bliss you had gifted him. 

Lucifer doesn’t know how long he stays there for but when he stirs, he finds that most of the bubbles have gone, and the water is lukewarm at best. Deciding that it had probably been over an hour at this point Lucifer finished washing quickly, using the things you had left for him and delighting at the crisp apple scent mixed with cinnamon and ginger with a hint of nutmeg and cardamom that wafted up from the open bottles. He makes sure to wash every inch of himself, even conditioning his hair as well as shampooing, wanting to make sure he used everything you had left for him.

He feels fresh and relaxed when he steps out of the bath, wrapping himself in the ridiculously large and fluffy towel that had been left next to the tub for him. He dries himself quickly, eager to try his new pyjamas on and by the time he’s taken the few short steps across the room his body is mostly dry if not a little pink tinged from how vigorously he had been rubbing at it. The pyjama trousers are just as soft as they had looked, Lucifer letting them sit low on his hips as he shoved his feet into the slippers. He forgoes his shirt for now, a smaller towel draped over his shoulder and catching the water that dripped from his hair as he looked for his hairbrush. It’s not there though and without thinking he is already heading towards the adjoining door to his bedroom, tugging the towel up to rub vigorously at his still wet hair as he flings the door open. He’s already a couple of steps into the room when he suddenly stops, the small gasp catching him off guard. 

Lucifers head snapped up at the sound, his eyes going wide when he found you stood there. Oh, but what a sight you were, all wide eyed surprise and lips slightly parted as you took in his half-dressed state. But that wasn’t the best part. Oh no, the best part was that the two of you matched, all the way from the yellow duck slippers on your feet to your pyjamas. They were the exact same ones you had gifted him except where his were trousers yours were shorts, cutting off mid-thigh and leaving your legs blessedly bare. The two of you just stand there, Lucifer completely enraptured by how adorably beautiful you are whilst you stare at his bare chest like you had never seen a half-naked man before. 

You are the first to come to your senses, coughing nervously before purposely looking at a spot somewhere over his should as you asked if he had “enjoyed your bath? I know it was a little over the top, but I just wanted to surprise you and, well you seemed a little stressed when we spoke last night, and I thought this might help you relax a little.” Lucifer lets the towel fall forgotten to the floor, striding across the room so he is standing before you, taking your hands in his and waiting for you to look at him before thanking you. You look so relieved when he tells you how much he had loved it, giving him one of your sweet little smiles when he admits that “no one’s ever done something like that for me before and I…thank you, for taking care of me.” He means to say a lot more, but his voice gets caught in his throat and Lucifer can only hope that his choked up little thank you conveys everything he hadn’t been able to say. 

Despite his lack of words, you had seemed to understand, cupping his cheek and looking him in the eyes as you swore that you would “show you every single day from here until forever how much you mean to me Lucifer.” Smiling tearfully, he had placed his hand over yours on his cheek, turning his face slightly into your palm as he told you how perfect that sounded and promising to do the same. Lucifer would spend the rest of eternity showing you how much he loved you, would tell you at least twice a day and make sure that you never stopped smiling, always feeling happy and loved. You were too pure of a soul to be down here, and you were definitely too good for Lucifer, but you had chosen him all the same and if heaven had denied you paradise, then he would create a slice of heaven in hell, just for you. 

Lucifers the one who breaks the silence between you this time, taking the hand that’s on his cheek and placing a soft kiss on your knuckles before asking about your current state of dress, and noting how adorable you look. Turns out there had been more to Lucifers surprise because not only had you given him a gift and helped him relax you also apparently had plans for his sleeping arrangements, gesturing behind you to the camomile tea that sat on the night stand whilst explaining that you thought the two of you “could snuggle. JUST snuggle. I thought it would be nice for us to, well you know, cuddle.” Lucifer hears what you are saying, would love nothing more than to climb into bed with you and spend the night wrapped in your arms but there’s just one slight problem with that. Lucifer isn’t so sure he would be able to spend the night with you in his bed without experiencing some physical side effects. 

His mind kind of gets stuck on that, pulling up every scenario that could unfold by agreeing to sharing his bed with you. Only two out of a dozen possibilities don’t end up with you both naked, and only one of those isn’t sexual in nature. It’s bad, so very very bad to be thinking about such things, especially when you were trying to be romantic and show him how you felt but by the way you were blushing and pointedly not looking at him or the bed Lucifer thought that maybe he wasn’t the only one with less than pure thoughts about the situation. His first instinct is to steer the conversation well away from anything even remotely close to sexual, but he knows better than that now. That being said it doesn’t change the fact that before anything like that could happen between the two of you Lucifer needs to apologise for his behaviour over the last few months and also get verbal confirmation from you that adding sex to your relationship was actually something you wanted. 

Lucifer makes sure to tell you that “spending the night with you in my arms sounds like a dream come true,” and it does. He has often dreamed of just holding you, getting to feel your body against his as the two of you simply lay beside one another but considering how he had been reacting to your most simple of touches these last few months he knows that an innocent snuggle wouldn’t be possible for him. The question is how does he tell you that without sounding like some sort of sex obsessed weirdo that can’t even make it through a night of cuddling without getting hard?

Trying to buy himself a little extra time to think Lucifer had directed you to sit at the end of the bed, coming to stand in front if you and nervously running a hand through his still damp hair. Maybe doing this when he was shirtless was a mistake, but he knew that if he disappeared back into the bathroom, he would probably lose his nerve and either end up embarrassing himself or upsetting you. No, he needed to do this now. You deserved the truth, though maybe getting you to sit on his bed was also a mistake, Lucifers eyes drawn down to your bare thighs, realising that if he were to drop to his knees his head would be just the right hight for him to…. NOT HELPING! 

You would think that after having been through all this with Asmodeus it would have been easier to tell you he was sorry for his behaviour and explain exactly why he had acted in such a way, but it wasn’t. Not in the slightest and Lucifer found himself stumbling over his words once more, looking over your shoulder to avoid the temptation of letting his gaze wander down too far. You don’t question his lack of eye contact, letting him ramble on about how he “didn’t mean to make you think that I wasn’t interested because I am. Very interested actually but you’ve never, you know, been with anyone before and I didn’t want to rush you into something you weren’t ready for. Not that you can’t make those decisions yourself. It’s just, well, umm, sex, can be messy and complicated, even when you know what you’re doing and I ah, I didn’t, DON’T! want to hurt you.” It’s like Asmodeus’ all over again, Lucifer making a complete mess of trying to tell you what he had thought was happening and what was actually going on. 

Why was he so bad at this? All he needed to do was apologise for  misunderstanding your attentions and reassure you that he was completely committed to this relationship, regardless of if it included sex or not but if that was something you were interested in then he needed you to just tell him that because he would be thrilled to have the pleasure of well, you. There! That’s all he had to say and yet the words that came out of his mouth were “sex is good. Would, be good, with you. If that was something you wanted to have, with me?” He can’t help but grimace at how ridiculous he sounds, hiding his face in his hands and contemplating opening a portal up underneath himself so he can save you from listening to any more of his embarrassing drivel. 

You don’t seem to think he’s messed up though, gently taking his hands in yours and lowering them so you can look him in the eye. You’re all soft smiles and gentle words as you apologise to him, cutting off his insistence that you had nothing to apologise for by placing a finger against his lips, Lucifers voice disappearing in an instant. He watched you with wide eyes, captivated by you as you told him that you “hadn’t considered your feelings and I’m sorry for that. Just because I don’t care about my lack of experience doesn’t mean you feel the same and I should have realised that instead of continuing to try and start something and making you feel uncomfortable. I know now that you were worried that I might be pushing myself into it without really knowing what I was asking for but I am an adult Lucifer and I need you to realise that I wouldn’t have even considered sleeping with you let alone trying to initiate it if I didn’t think I was ready for that with you.” You say it so much better than he ever could, having a way with words that leave Lucifer feeling like he is on the edge of tears and yet full of so much joy he might burst from it.

There are so many things that Lucifer wants to say to you. Like how deeply he cares for you. How he would be willing to go as slow as you needed him to if it meant you felt safe and comfortable with him. How he wanted you in his life, however he could have you because you made it that much better, smile as bright as an angels grace that never failed to chase away the gloom that hung over him like a cloud. He doesn’t say any of that though, taking your hands in his as he declared “me to. I’m ready,” because he was. Lucifer was ready to take that next step with you, both inside and outside the bedroom. 

The kiss you give him is chaste, but it doesn’t stay that way, your tongue sweeping across his lips. He parts them eagerly this time, welcoming the gentle cares of your tongue against his. The two of you should probably talk more but for now it seemed like the time for words was over, the months’ worth of denial finally catching up to you both. Lucifer follows you wordlessly when you scooch back onto the bed, his lips never far from yours as he climbs up onto the bed until he’s hovering above you. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer so you can whisper in his ear, lips brushing teasingly against the sensitive shell of his ear when you ask him if he would “be my fist? There’s no one else I would rather it be. Please Lucifer, take it, it’s yours.” It sends a shiver down his spine, a long buried ache growing in his chest and pressing almost painfully against his rib cage. You’re offering him something precious, something that once given can’t be taken back. A part of yourself that will forever be his, a mark on your very soul that will never fade. It’s an honour that Lucifer would be a fool to refuse so he doesn’t, murmuring his devotion against your lips even as he slides a hand under the fabric of your pyjama shirt, deft fingers dancing across your stomach and up your side, your startled gasp like the start of a symphony written just for him. 

Lucifer makes love to you that night. It’s the only way he can describe it. He’s slow, gentle, the two of you pressed as close you can get without it interfering with him slowly stripping your clothes off you, Lucifer enraptured by every inch of you that is revealed to him. 

There’s something addictive about the little moans and gasps you let out as Lucifer explores your body with his hands and mouth. He liked the way your breath hitches when his fingers skim across the swell of your breasts and pinched gently at your hardened nipples. He craves the little gasps you make when he kisses his way down your body from your lips to your hips, nipping and sucking gently as he goes before soothing over the slight sting with a delicate kiss. You respond so beautifully to him, unashamedly vocal in your pleasure as you squirm in his hold, arching into his touch like you were chasing it. He’s already addicted to it, to you but there’s one thing he loved above all else, the most beautiful sound to fall from your parted lips and leaves him whimpering, desperate to hear it again and again. 

“Lu...Luci…Lucifer! Please, I…oh gods, yes! Please. Lucifer I…LUCIFER!” It’s like music to his ears. A symphony of moans and gasps, his name falling from your lips like a prayer and all because his wicked tongue had made its way between your legs. Lucifer had moaned like a starving man when he had gotten his first taste of you, pressing his face as close to you as he could get. He had tried to go slow, aware that no one had ever done this for you before and he had started out like that, tentative and gentle as he tried to figure out what it was you liked and didn’t. As soon as he had started to figure it out though Lucifer was relentless, alternating between fucking his tongue into your tight cunt and sucking gently on your sensitive clit. He felt drunk on you, hungry to taste your climax on his tongue and desperate to know how loudly he can get you to scream his name. Hopefully loud enough that all of heaven will be able to hear. 

Lucifer spent a while between your legs, his own neglected cock tenting his trousers and begging for attention. This wasn’t about him though. It was all about you, about your pleasure and Lucifer was all for denying himself when he got to listen to you fall apart on his tongue. He could happily stay there for hours, days even, feasting on your sweet nectar and listening to you cry out for him in pleasure filled desperation. Maybe another time, he didn’t want to overwhelm you, plus this was about what you wanted not him and from the way you were practically grinding against his face Lucifer could guess what it was you were after. 

His fingers replaced his tongue, two slipping into you easily as his mouth latched onto your clit, licking and sucking on the little nub as he fucked his fingers into you. He knew that no matter how gentle he was with you it was going to hurt to some degree but the more relaxed and looser you were the easier it would be for you when Lucifer finally got to feel you around his cock. So, he worked another finger into you, his teeth nipping at the little bundle of nerves as you pressed down against the intrusion, moaning ever so sweetly at the stretch. It doesn’t take long for Lucifer to add a fourth finger or for you to clench down on them, crying out his name as you climax. Lucifer lets out his own moan, working you through it and lapping up your juices as they flow out around his fingers. 

He works you through it, fingers slowing down till they were barely moving as his tongue drags across your opening. He stays there till you let out a little whimper, tugging at his hair as you press your hips back into the bed. Reluctantly Lucifer moves, not wanting to leave you feeling to overstimulate or overwhelm. It is only your first time together, first being the important word there because Lucifer plans on there being many more times in your future, maybe even again tonight. If he’s lucky. 

Feeling how wet his chin is Lucifer doesn’t even think about letting his tongue snake out of his mouth, dragging across his chin and savouring every last drop of you, his eyes falling closed as he moans softly. Your choked off moan has his eyes snapping open, dragging his gaze up the naked expanse of your body until his eyes meet yours and the dark hungry look you give him as you stare at his mouth. Lucifer can’t help but smirk, lifting his still slicked fingered to his mouth. He watches you from under hooded eyes as he drags his tongue up them, slipping them into his mouth one by one so he can suck them clean. 

He’s barely removed them from his mouth before you’re surging up to claim his lips in a bruising kiss, swallowing Lucifers startled moan as you pull him down slightly to meet you. It’s an interesting position, Lucifers thighs shoved under yours and an arm wrapped around your waist to help keep your balance whilst he cups your neck and jaw with his other hand. You don’t seem to care, weight braced on one arm and a hand buried in his hair. One of your legs is wrapped around his waist, pressing his hips down even as you raise yours up to meet him. It’s too much, Lucifer breaking away from the kiss with a gasp and a shudder. He stays close, forehead resting against yours as you breathe each other in, Lucifer shamelessly grinding against you like he had no self-control. He doesn’t, not when it comes to you and he probably would have carried on as he was, grinding against your core in a pale imitation of what he really wanted until he crashed over the edge and spilt inside his trousers like an inexperienced teenager if it hadn’t been for your breathy little “please” so desperate and wanton and Lucifer couldn’t wait a moment longer. 

He gives you one last kiss, nipping gently at your bottom lip as he pulls away before shuffling off the bed. He’s already pushing down his pyjama bottoms before he’s even got one foot on the floor. It goes about as well as could be expected, Lucifers foot slipping as the other gets caught in the fabric. He goes down gracelessly with a thud, landing in a sprawling heap on the floor. It doesn’t deter him though, yanking the offending garment off and quickly jumping back up onto his feet only to find you kneeling at the end of the bed and looking down at him with concern. Lucifer laughs nervously, rubbing at the back of his neck and insisting that he was fine. There’s a beat of a second, a small pause as your eyes narrow slightly like you’re trying to figure out if he’s telling the truth. You must decide he is because you smile fondly at him, shaking your head slightly and rolling your eyes even as you offer him your hand. 

He takes it gratefully, following you up onto the bed once more as you shuffle back to lay against the pillows. You are beautiful in your innocence, your bottom lip caught between your teeth and head turned slightly to the side, your eyes cast down in a display of shyness that hadn’t existed the rest of the evening. You’re led in a way that leaves you both on display and hidden all at once, your arms raised and gripping at the pillow under your head whilst your hips are slightly turned away from him, one leg over the other and bent at the knee. You look like a sacrifice, led across his deep red sheets with the dim glow of the candles flickering across your naked body and Lucifer feels every inch like the devil come to claim you as tribute. It doesn’t bother him as much as he had feared though, knowing you were here willingly, giving in to your own desire for him. It helps a lot, easing his worry and boosting his confidence because he knows you wouldn’t be here like this if you didn’t want to be. 

Lucifers touch is gentle as he slides his hands up your legs, slowly moving you so he can crawl between your legs. As soon as he’s hovering above you, his weight resting on his hands either side your head, you wrap your arms around his shoulders, fingers slipping into his hair and guiding his head down to yours. He goes willingly, dropping his weight down onto his forearms as his lips meet yours in a slow and gentle kiss. All the desperation and hunger from before is gone, this kiss less about the desire you felt for one another and more about the love you feel for each other. Though neither of you had said it yet Lucifer knew it must be true. It was for him and if it wasn’t for you then it wasn’t far off. 

The kiss ended when you shifted, his neglected cock rubbing against your stomach and reminding you both of the lust and need you felt for the other as it sparked back to life. Lucifer pulls away from you with a groan, head falling to rest on your shoulder as he calms himself down enough so that he doesn’t start rutting against you again. Something that isn’t helped by the fact you whisper in his ear that you’re ready, ever so sweetly begging “please Lucifer, I need you.” And oh, that does something for him, his dick twitching when you say you need him. He pulls back just enough to look you in the eye when he tells you it’s going to “hurt, just a little at the beginning but I promise it will feel so good after that, just, if it’s too much, tell me and I’ll stop. We don’t have to do this tonight, not if your umph.” You cut off Lucifers ramblings with a quick kiss, cupping his cheek as you tell him that you know and how you trust him.  It brings tears to his eyes, ones you quickly wipe away, but he can’t help it. You are giving him such an amazing gift, trusting him with something precious and he’s overwhelmed by the trust you had put in him to take care of you. Maybe a little to overwhelmed if he was being honest. 

Lucifer doesn’t want to admit how nervous he is about this part, but it surely must be obvious from the fact that he stares down at his dick for a good few seconds before he even thinks about moving into position. He knows he’s a lot bigger than the average human male, both in length and girth and though he spent quite a while making sure you were stretched, he fears that it might not have been enough. It’s your first time, Lucifer knows he’s going to hurt you despite everything he’s done to prevent it and unless he shoved a bunch of drugs down your throat that fact isn’t going to change but that doesn’t change the fact he feels almost guilty about it. This will be nothing but bliss for him whilst you have to suffer through the pain of him tearing you apart and forcing your insides to fit around him. It’s not fair, a flaw in Gods design but unfortunately there isn’t much Lucifer can do to rectify that. 

The only thing he can do is go slow, checking you’re okay at regular points and stilling when you need him to. He is right though, sinking into you is heavenly. You’re warm and tight around him as he slides in torturously slow, his breath heavy as he watched your face for any sign he may be hurting you too much. He stops when he feels resistance, covering your face in kisses in between apologising for the pain that’s about to come. Your hands tighten where they’re curled around his shoulders, bracing yourself for what’s to come even as you urge him to continue. Lucifer kisses you, deep and hungry as he snaps his hips forward and breaks through your barrier, swallowing your pain filled cry. He thinks you might have drawn blood, your nails digging into his shoulders, but he doesn’t care, holding himself still as he kisses away your tears, waiting for your command to continue. It feels like an age before your nodding, your grip loosening on his shoulders and whispering that “it’s ok, you can move. Please Lucifer. I want this. I want you.” With one last kiss Lucifer promises that you have him, mind body and soul, from here until eternity. He doesn’t give you the chance to answer, pulling his hips back and sliding back in, your hitched little gasp the only answer he needs. 

It’s slow going, Lucifer fighting the urge to just slam into you all in one go because fuck, he wants to be in you already, filling you up and making you scream as he fucks you hard and mercilessly. There a mantra of next time in his head, promising himself that next time he’ll fuck you harder, faster. Next time he’ll bend you this way and that to get the best angles and get even deeper, but not this time. This time is for slow and delicate, working you up gradually so it’s even sweeter when you fall apart around him. When he’s all the way in he stops again, giving you both time to adjust because even he’s a little overwhelmed by how tight a fit it is, how your body clings to him, your insides fluttering around him and making his cock twitch from the stimulation that he’s not even sure you know you are providing. It’s taken him at least ten minutes to get here, and he feels like he’s teetering on the edge of this being over embarrassingly fast. That’s the last thing he wants, to give you the impression that sex with him would be painful and quick, leaving you unsatisfied and disappointed. That is not the kind of lover he is and Lucifer refuses to ruin your first time all because he had the self-control of Gods first man. 

That surprisingly helps, the thought of you and Adam together angering him enough that Lucifers able to drive back his impending orgasm. Your patience seems to have run out though, rolling your hips against his and dragging a low moan from between Lucifers parted lips. He nips at your lip, tells you to behave but all that gets him is a seductive smirk as you do it again. Lucifer closes his eyes, arms trembling as he holds himself as still as he can, letting you rock ever so slightly on his cock. It’s not enough to be anything other than a tease but Lucifer loves it all the same. He’s always prided himself on being able to please a lover, getting off on knowing he’s driven them to such exhilarating heights. If you were to use him as a living breathing sex doll then he would have no complaints, would probably even thank you for it because he was just that desperate to please. You have other ideas though, hooking a leg around his waist, foot pressing against his ass and urging him down as you roll your hips up to meet him. Your hands back in his hair, cupping the back of his head and keeping his head tucked into your neck. Your other arm is curled under his, hand gripping his shoulder tightly as you moan ever so sweetly in his ear, asking him to “move. Please I…I…please.” You cut yourself off with a desperate little whine, pushing your heel into the small of his back and pressing him as close as he could get. 

Lucifer feels awful, having made you wait whilst he collected himself when clearly you were so desperate for him. He places lots of little kisses across your shoulder and up your neck to your jaw, apologising in between because he’s “so sorry I made you wait so long for me. Promise it won’t happen again. I’m going to take such good care of, give you everything you want and more.” He’s not just talking about now and hopes that you can understand that in your current state. For as long as you want him Lucifer swears that you will want for nothing, at your beck and call every hour of every day. He will treat you like a queen, might even make you one, one day but for now he’s going to start with this. 

Lucifer starts off slow, your tight grip on him loosening enough that he can pull all the way back until his tips the only part of him left inside you. He presses back in just as slowly, both of you moaning at the feel of him pressing against your walls. Lucifer can’t help but lean in, his lips finding yours in a gentle kiss, his pace just as slow and languid as the kisses you exchange. He stays as close to you as he can, his chest pressed against yours and legs intertwined as he moves within you. There’s nothing hard or fast about it, his hips rocking gently in and out of you and slowly stoking the flames of desire that burned within you. It was intimate, Lucifer unable to call it anything other than making love because that was exactly how it felt to him. Just the two of you, so close that all you can feel is the other, all you could see each other, breathing in the other’s air and lips meeting in gentle and love filled kisses as your moans and gasps mix with the sounds of your gentle love making. 

It was too much, yet not enough all at once, Lucifer feeling like he was going to fall apart at the seams at any moment. It’s been a while for him, even before Lilith had left and Lucifer had known there would be a possibility that he might not be able to control himself when with you. There had never been a doubt in his mind that bedding you would be anything other than spectacular, capable of reducing him to pathetic desperate mess but this? It feels too good, too much like divinity and Lucifer can feel his tentative hold on his form slipping, overcome by his own emotions as he losses himself in the moment, completely surrounded by you. 

Praise falls from Lucifers lips in a mumbled mess of words, telling you that you’re “perfect. So good. Doing so well for me. You feel amazing sweetheart, so warm and tight. Fuck. So beautiful like this and all for me. Just me. Oh fuck. Yes!” in between sloppy kisses as he trailed his lips  from your mouth to your neck and then back again, stopping occasionally to suck marks into your neck, the same part of him that had delighted in being your first practically glowing with delight at all the other residents of Hell being able to see his claim on you. Or that could just be the fact he was actually glowing, what remained of his heavenly light growing brighter the closer to his climax he got. 

As much as he wanted this to last for eternity Lucifer could feel his orgasm getting closer and closer, the coil in his stomach tightening as your walls fluttered around him, pulling him back in and leaving him a moaning gasping mess on the edge of tears. He can’t put it off again, approaching his end to quickly for him to slow down now. Panting Lucifer rested his head on your shoulder, closing his eyes and giving himself over to his pleasure. He is not a selfish lover though and Lucifer refuses to let himself fall over the edge without you there with him. It takes a slight bit of manoeuvring, but Lucifer managed to get a hand between the two of you, his thumb rubbing against your clit and making you cry out almost loud enough for all of Hell to hear. It wasn’t an ideal position, being pressed so close to you but he didn’t want to move, didn’t want to stop touching your because if he did this might all disappear and he would find himself alone once more, that gaping black hole of loneliness too much for him to bare. 

Lucifers climax hits him suddenly, his cry of pleasure muffled as he sinks his jagged teeth into the delicate skin in your neck. Vaguely he hears your answering scream, can feel you getting impossibly tighter around him but Lucifer is to lost to really notice, his vision going white as the room floods with light, the sound of wings flapping and something smashing all but a distant hum compared to the white noise ringing in his ears. Euphoric doesn’t even begin to cover how Lucifer feels in that moment. Rapturous maybe, possibly even heavenly. All Lucifer knows is that it feels right, like being welcomed home and loved unconditionally. He falls into it, into you with, with reckless abandonment, letting the feeling drag him under the roaring waves of bliss as they crash into him. 

When Lucifer comes back to himself it’s to find that he’s laying half on top of you, his leg slung over yours, arm draped over your chest and head tucked underneath your chin. You’re humming softly along to the music still playing, arm wrapped around his waist as you card your fingers through his hair. He feels boneless, happy and satisfied in a way that he hasn’t for centuries. He’s so content in-fact that that he can’t help but hum, snuggling in closer and delighting in the little chuckle it gets him. It’s only then that he realises his wings are out, three of them half hanging off the bed and draping across the floor whilst the three on the other side are bent protectively over you, keeping you hidden and safe from the outside world whilst Lucifer himself was to out of it to do so. 

He’s embarrassed by his lack of control, groaning loudly and trying to hide his face in your neck as he apologises for his lack of restraint even as he tried to justify it because “it’s eh been a while since I’ve, well since I’ve done that with anyone and you were, it was, I was just…” Thankfully you stop his ramblings, your fingers pressing on the underside of his chin so he will look up at you. You understand his reaction, even going as far as to tell him how flattered you are that it happened. It makes him blush even more, wings fluttering slightly but no more so then when you thank him, looking him in the eyes and sounding so sincere and serious when you tell him that you were “glad it was you.” He wants to shrug it off, insist that it was his pleasure, quite literally, but there’s something about the look in your eyes that stops him Lucifer instead reacting up to cup your cheek and telling you how honoured he was that you had given him such a gift and promising to treasure it and you for all eternity.  

The two of you share a kiss, as soft and languid as your love making had been. Lucifer was happy to take his time, to spend at least the next hour wrapped in your arms and exchanging lazy kisses but it seemed you had other ideas, pulling away to yawn loudly. Lucifer waves off your apologies, insisting that he too is feeling quite tired considering the time and your choice of evening activities. He tries to move, tries to hide his wings and pull up the covers but you put a stop to that quickly, asking ever so sweetly if the two of you could stay like this, as long as it wouldn’t cause problems with his wings of course. Lucifers to stunned by the request to do anything then just nod, curling against your side and allowing his wings to shrink to a more manageable size that’s less likely to brake something else within his bedroom. Your hand returns to his hair, fingers gently toying with the strands at the base of his skull as you a wrap your other arm around him, slipping it under his bottom wing so you can gently stroke your fingers up and down his spine. He just about resists the urge to purr like a cat though he does find himself relaxing into it, sleep finding him quickly. 

It’s nice, the two of you led in his bed and enjoying the afterglow of your love making. There’s no need for either of you to talk and though Lucifer knows that at some point you will need to, a whole lifetime of things still between you that will need addressing at some point, there is no rush. He’s forever grateful that you chose to stick by him despite his misguided attempt to preserve your virtue and as he drifts off to sleep in your arms Lucifer lets himself truly feel the happiness you inspire within him because that’s what he is, happy. Happier than he had been in a long time, and he hopes, with every ounce of his being, that he can hold onto that happiness until the end of time. 

@viannasthings

@loquacious-libra

If anyone else would like to be tagged please do let me know.

[pictureamoebae]

L = no ReShade; R = ReShade inc. ReLight

Quick little shader highlight for you.

You've maybe heard me talk about the Nice Guy Lamps shader before, which lets you add spotlights and create shadows. It's a nifty little shader but it's not very precise, and the shadows suffer from jitter and noise.

Enter ReLight by Marty McFly. ReLight is a fancy and more polished alternative to NG Lamps. The shadows are far better quality, and the lights are easier to position and edit. You can theoretically add as many as you want by editing the preprocessor definitions, but to begin with there are (iirc) two for you to play with. I've set it to four, and haven't felt like I've needed more than that so far.

In the picture on the right I've used three lights, each by the light sources in the room to simulate actual light being emitted from them. The two lamps on the right have a warm neutral light, and the candle on the left has a warm orange light. I positioned them so they sat exactly where the source would be. So, for example, for the floor lamp I positioned the light right up inside the dome of the shade, and you can see shadows being cast by the shade and light only coming down where it would physically be able to fall.

You can also use ReLight to add lights to portraits, making them really dramatic with different colours on each side of the face, or just to brighten the character so you can see their features more clearly. Below is a screenshot I took in Baldur's Gate 3 where I added blue light to the left and warmer light to the right.

It's such a handy little shader that can help add both realism and a hefty dose of drama to a scene. You need to feel confident tweaking shader settings to use it, and have to edit it for every single shot because the lights stay static in relation to the screen coordinates, so you'll have to move them where you want them each time. It's easy to do though, and lots of fun.

ReLight is one of Marty's premium shaders, which means you'd need to subscribe to his Patreon to get access to it. It's not currently listed in any of his tiers because he stopped working on it in favour of other things, but it works well and is probably my favourite shader at the moment. I'm yet to set up a shot that can't benefit from it in one way or another. If you are interested in using ReLight, you need to sub to the Path Tracers tier. You can cancel your subscription once you've grabbed it from his discord server, but you won't get access to any updates until you resub (it hasn't been updated in a long time though, so I wouldn't worry too much about that).

Paying for shaders is something that doesn't sit well with some people, and that's fair. I would only recommend getting this if you're enough of an enthusiast that spending 30 minutes setting up one shot is your idea of fun (not that ReLight takes that long, it can take just seconds sometimes).

[autisticlancemcclain]

prev chapter

“Just – don’t do it, Lance. I don’t want you to end up in the west wing, or things are going to get bad in here.”

If Lance is being entirely honest, he has no desire to deviate from Hunk’s directions. At least he didn’t. If Hunk hadn’t said anything, it probably wouldn’t have even occurred to Lance to go to the west wing anyway. This is the second time he has been warned away from the west wing, now. If Lance was curious before, he’s burning with it now.

But Hunk is his friend, and he’s doing him a favour, so he bites his tongue and nods his head and walks down the way Hunk instructed him too. It helps that he’s ravenous, and is more focused on food than anything. 

But he won’t lie and say that he doesn’t have to force himself away from dark hallways and beckoning shadows.

———

“Oh, Lance, hello!” Colleen greets him enthusiastically when he walks in the door. Lance wiggles his fingers at her in a small wave. “I’m glad you came out, dear. I was worried.”

“Got hungry.”

“Of course, of course. Sal, heat up the food, will you?”

The giant wood burning stove in the corner of the kitchen chugs to life, vent forming an enthusiastic grin. The sound of frying meat and salted potatoes fill the air, making Lance’s mouth water.

The kitchen is quiet at this time of night; warm. It makes him think of his Abuela, on the many nights when neither of them could sleep, guiding his hands as he kneaded dough, sliced meat, prepared vegetables. Things he can do easily, now, without thinking, in a way he has never been able to do with a plow or bailer. Things that form callouses on the tips of his fingers rather than the pad of his palm. 

He shakes his head, shoving the thoughts in the back of his mind. It doesn’t matter, now. The food is warm and smells heavenly, and more importantly, there’s no screaming fiancé to reckon with. 

He scarfs back the food so quickly his stomach aches, forgetting to be self conscious. Colleen’s laughter is only teasing, after all, and there is no one else to see it. He smiles sheepishly at her and wishes her goodnight as he finishes his third plate, watching her hop off to a cabinet. 

Slowly the lights in the kitchen fade as candles burn low and the embers of the oven start to die out, shadows shifting on the cluttered walls and full shelves. Lance picks up one of the newer candles before the kitchen goes completely dark, placing it gently in a (non-animated, thankfully) teacup to guide him down the corridors. He remembers Hunk’s instructions, pausing for a moment to flip them in his head so he won’t get lost in the wide, dark hallways – left, left, right; now left, right, right. Stick to the path. 

He walks out of the kitchen, closing the heavy door gently so as to not wake anyone. He takes his time, not quite comfortable in the dark but not quite afraid, either; his shoes, worn and thin, provide a light enough cover that he can almost feel the smooth marble floors on the soles of his feet, and his free hand traces along the wall as he walks, feeling the rough bricks and occasional soft tapestries. He keeps his candle close to his face, both to help him see and to try and soak up some of the tiny flame’s warmth. His cloak is back in the servant’s quarters – his room – and the castle is warmer than outside but barely. 

His fingers brush over a soft tapestry, threads so thin and tightly woven he can barely feel the difference between them, and then brick again, and then air. He pauses, holding his candle a little further from his eyes and squinting to make out what’s in front of him. 

Difficult to see in the low candlelight, a massive stained glass window towers in front of him. The colours are too dark to make out, but when he places the candle at the base of the window and steps back, he can see the vague shapes of a young man, tall and regal and dark-haired, holding a sword and standing in front of a castle. Below him are panels of farmland and forest, and beside him are orchards, vills, estates. Above him, to the right, is a shining sun. To the left, a crescent moon.

Left, right, right. Don’t veer off the path. 

Lance bites his lip, and follows the path of the moon.

The corridor, somehow, seems colder. As if the bricks are further away from the sun, no longer leaching the warmth collected as it was shining. The darkness seems blacker, too; heavier almost, and soon his candle burns down to the base, extinguishing, leaving him to stumble forward completely blind. He reaches out to steady himself, to trace the wall to stay on track, and has to choke back a scream when he feels a face instead of a wall, sharp teeth digging into the flesh of his palm, snarling and furious. It takes him several minutes to calm his racing heart, work up the courage to reach forward, again, touch the face, map curve of the stone jaw, curling horns, and twisted, scowling mouth. A gargoyle, although Lance has never heard of one inside before.

“Rich people are so goddamn weird,” he mutters to himself. 

Shaken but determined, he moves forward. 

As he creeps forward, more and more carvings dot the walls, each one angrier and angrier. At one point he has to pull his hand away, continuing forward on his legs alone, because he fears cutting himself on teeth that only appear to get sharper, brick that only seems to get rougher. He keeps his arms extended, moving forward slowly, cautious of what might be in front of him, too scared to stumble.

Eventually, his knuckles hit a door, the sound of the slight impact bouncing off the walls and echoing down the hallway. He flattens his hands against the grainy wood, mapping out the knots, the iron studs and hinges. He’s surprised to feel the lock pulled free. He wraps his fingers around the door handles and tugs, pulling the door open with a groan.

Moonlight spills into the hallway. It’s silvery and faint, but it’s enough that Lance can see the outline of his hands, even vaguely in front of him. He pushes the door open further, wincing at the slight creak, just wide enough for him to slip in. 

The room is…huge. And destroyed.

Inside, it’s even easier for the moonlight to lift some of the oppressive shadow. It’s not bright by any means, but the window that makes up the back wall is massive and clear, and the doors are wide open, letting the full moon spill into the crowded, dusty room. Lance steps cautiously forward, hands still extended, looking around with wide eyes. 

Broken furniture litters the floor, leaving splinters and shards of metal everywhere, casting long shadows on the wall. Lance is careful to step around it, but in his attempt to steer clear he very nearly walks into one of the many torn drapes and tapestries hanging from the walls and ceiling. He ducks at the last second, avoiding a facefull of it, but he still nudges it with his shoulder, causing a cloud of dust to fall to the floor, powdering his face and hair.

“Aw, that’s fucking disgusting,” he says, swiping it off his face and resisting the urge to throw up. He shakes out his hair, hyperconscious of how little it actually does, hoping that there is some kind of well he can find on the grounds in the morning to bathe. Or, God, maybe even a real bath! With hot water! It’s a castle, after all. There should be.

He looks again at the state of the room, with the shattered glass all over the wall and holes punched into the plaster walls. Paint is peeled or scratched off in many areas, especially where decorative fabric has been torn, or where coat racks or lampposts have fallen, scratching the walls on their way down.  On second thought, hot water baths seem too nice for this shithole.

A glint catches his eye, and he lifts his head just to find himself face to face with his own fragmented reflection, startled expression mirrored back to him, brown eyes wide and eyebrows creased. Half the glass is missing, and the rest of it is spiderwebbed, in shards. The ornate carvings of the mirror’s frame have been half-crushed, like the whole giant, floor-length thing was picked up and smashed on the floor. 

Sufficiently spooked, with his abuela’s warnings of bad luck ringing in his ears, he starts to turn away, unsure if he can be cursed if he didn’t break the damn thing but unwilling to take his chances. He's in a rough enough situation. He can’t really afford to make it worse. But as he moves forward, he catches sight of another face reflected out of the corner of his eye, and whips around to face it, hand curled protectively over his heart. 

“Oh,” he breathes, air knocked out of him, transfixed on the portrait across from him.

It’s painting, or at least, it was. Like everything else in the room it’s been destroyed, half the man’s face shredded cleanly away. Left only is the shining thickness of his dark hair, the length of his pale neck, and the perplexing, swirling indigo of his eyes. He looks hauntingly familiar, in the way a name on a tombstone brings on a shudder of vague recollection, a chill down one’s spine.

Wary and curious, Lance slowly reaches forward, pinching the corner of the ripped flap of canvas with his thumb and pointer finger, cognizant of the accumulated grime, and hesitant for a reason he doesn’t understand. Slowly he begins to flip the canvas up, running his pinkies along the rejoining seams, too dark to make out the rest of the painting quite yet but noting the strong chin, sharp jawline, regal set of the shoulders – 

A red light pulses, suddenly, nearly blinding the room, and Lance’s eyes squeeze shut on reflex, hands dropping to his sides. He turns slowly once it has faded, heart pounding, and sees to his great shock a flower, encased in glass, floating atop a small table, glowing as brightly as a ruby.

As if in a trance, he walks towards it, tripping over a table but quickly righting himself, eyes glued to the flower; noting the way it seems to rotate, almost too slowly to track, and sparkle like freshly fallen snow in early sunlight. He stops when he gets close, admiring it in almost a single-minded focus; the deep, dark green of the stem, the sharp thorns in great number along it, and the softly glowing pinkish-red of the three triangular petals. Lance has seen nothing like it before, not in his sister’s garden, not sold in the town square, not even wild. The flower is enchanting, and Lance is reaching out before he can stop himself, pressing careful hands to the glass and lifting it quickly, setting it on the floor and standing again as fast as he can manage, unwilling to take his eyes off the flower for even a second.

He’s nervous, now, as the flower lays without barrier, brighter and softer alike in the cool air and silver moonlight. His reach to touch it is slow, almost as if he must caress the air around it first, single finger poised to rest gently on the widest petal.

A shadow suddenly dwarfs him. He rips back his hand at light speed, but it’s too late, and Prince Keith snarls at him, teeth bared and mouth twisted and far more horrifying than any gargoyle.

He says nothing for a moment. Condensation huffs out of him in a cloud in the cold night, enveloping his head like a halo of smoke. In the next second he’s leaping forward and Lance doesn’t have time to move, doesn’t even have time to pray, can only let out a strangle shout and sharp inhale. 

But Keith does not claw him to death, or sink his teeth into Lance’s heart. He only slams the glass case back over the flower, wrapping himself around it almost protectively, mouth still twisted and eyes still angry and cold.

“Why did you come here,” he hisses, stalking towards him, matching every step Lance takes backward. His claws scratch on the floor with every step. 

Lance says nothing.

“What about this place seemed inviting to you?” Keith’s voice is low, carefully controlled. With every word Lance’s heart lurches, and with every step his lungs get tighter and tighter. “What about the darkness and closed door made you feel you had the right to enter?”

There’s no overt animosity to his tone, no animation. His voice is flat; deadly. This is not some kind of banter; there is no upper hand for Lance to gain. This conversation doesn’t need him at all. 

This is a cornering. A final toying with a trapped animal.

“It’s only a flower,” Lance manages, and the words are barely out of his mouth before Keith roars, a hundred times louder than before, shaking the very ground with the force of it. There is nothing human or humane about it. 

“Do you realise what you could have done?!” he shouts, so mounstrous it reverberates in Lance’s bones. He slashes wildly, splitting an already broken chair in two, flinging the halves at the wall.

Lance presses himself against the wall, as far away from him as he can manage, breath coming in short pants. “I didn’t mean –”

“Get out!” Keith booms, and Lance doesn’t waste a second.

He turns around, and he flees.

— — —

next chapter

[raayllum]

"My mom used to do that." for claudiez 👀

as always they're in their 20s... Plus send me a number with a ship and i'll write it &lt;3 accepted ships are tdp canon ships + rarepairs (claudiez, sopreli, corvus/terry, sorvus)

There's very little that Ezran remembers about Sarai.

He remembers the warmth of her smile, he thinks. The softness of her hair in his chubby little hands. But beyond that, there's not much else—too recently weaned before her death for more than stories he's heard to take hold, and even then, it feels like every year Harrow (until he couldn't) and Callum, or even Aunt Amaya, would bring up something new, something small, that they remembered, and he was learning it for the first time.

Mom always wore little gold beads in her hair.

Those were her favourite pair of earrings.

She planned out the castle gardens, with those hedges over there.

Soren, even, citing that she was his first sword-fighting teacher back when she'd been captain of the guard, before she and Ez's dad had fallen in love.

Her birthday is always hard, an added winter chill growing throughout the castle. Ezran ensures more fires are lit, and Claudia enchants little glass jars of orange light with her Sun primal, for people to carry in their pockets to keep them warm. He dons his more heavily furred royal cape and keeps Bait close while he writes letters to his brother and Rayla in Xadia, climbing the cold steps up to the rookery to send them.

Claudia joins him more often than not in his study, to save on candles, she says, as they do their work long into the night, but Ezran thinks she just likes his company, his heart doing a hopeful little dance in his chest. He steals glances at her atop the rim of candlelight dancing in her green eyes, now with that spark of light in them that'd been gone for so long during the war. After the war, too.

"You know," he begins, when they're heading to the study after lunch, "we could go to the library. The fireplace there is warmer. There's more comfortable chairs."

We used to always sit up in the library when it got cold, his dad had said, and Callum would play on the floor with you in your mom's lap.

Claudia thinks for a moment, then grins adorably. "Why not?" she says.

They settle in with tea and jelly tarts as an extra bonus, Claudia easing off her prosthetic and letting her stump be close to the fire; Ezran knows the cold makes the phantom pains worse this time of year. (Terry still sends over a herbal remedy that helps with it from where he's set up an apothecary on the border of Del Bar and Katolis with Corvus.)

More of her dyed black hair falls in front of her ears while she works, making notes on charts for what magical goods will be imported once the ice melts, and Claudia pushes it back impatiently until she sits back and begins braiding it. It's still shorter than it was in their teens, no longer all the way down her back, but long enough to braid as she starts the process, fingers jolting.

Dark magic took a lot from her, but one of the things it left was permanent nerve damage in her hands. (The cold makes that worse, too.)

"My mom used to do that," Ez half-remembers, half-recalls. Another story about the differences from their royal portrait—the one real non-Callum produced picture of their mother he has, the way he pictures her in his mind's eye—and how she'd worn her hair in a braid just as often loose or in a bun.

Claudia smiles then, softly. "She did. She's actually the one who taught me, after..." Lissa, another woman Ezran has never really met, isn't a wound anymore, but it's still hard during this time of year. "After my mom left and I grew my hair out."

Ezran sets aside his letter to an Evenerean diplomat, rising when she struggles again. "I can do that for you, if you like."

"Oh. You don't—"

He steps around easily to stand behind her armchair. "Let me?"

Claudia turns to the front fully, exhaling. "Alright."

He gathers her hair gently, hands confident due to the way his father had shown him him growing up, but styled a bit more the way Moonshadows do their braids, like how Rayla had demonstrated. For love and affection, she'd said, having small, long ones tucked away behind thicker locks for each of them—Callum and Ez and Soren, her boys, and then for each of her parents.

"There," Ezran says, finishing. He takes off his cape too for good measure, and drapes it across her shoulders. Claudia is looking at him wide-eyed when he walks back around to face her, and he passes a hand self-consciously over the patch of hair he's growing on his chin.

"Thank you," she says at least, tugging his cape further over her shoulder. The royal red brings out the green of her eyes and black of her hair. It suits her.

"Don't mention it," Ezran says, sitting again. They catch each other's eye, briefly, and share a smile, before she blushes a bit and looks away.

He feels warm for the first time all day.

[qqueenofhades]

hello! you asked for winter prompts? ❄️🌨

- first snow

- baby, it's cold outside

- holidays in the city

- hot chocolate

and i have a hankering for some Fivan but anything you want to write is lovely! 💙

The wind off the water stings like a whip, and the stormclouds roiling in the northern sky are laden with the promise of snow, the first of the season -- which in Weddle comes much later than it did back in Os Alta, where winter often lasted five or six months of the year. Fedyor isn't entirely used to the gentler, warmer, mistier climate of Novyi Zem, or Novyi Zem in general, but he can't say that he objects. In fact, it's nice not to freeze his arse off in a tent, or a battlefield, or wherever he was spending the latest campaign. Of course, Ivan is worried that it might turn them soft, but that's just Ivan for you. It's three months since they arrived in Weddle and got a small apartment in its city districts, settling awkwardly into their new life, but he still stays on his toes, tense and watchful, just waiting for something to go wrong. Even here, on the far side of the True Sea, far from Ravka, his face could be infamous, and if Queen Alina is inclined to pursue the vendetta that drove them into exile in the first place....

Fedyor sighs, shakes his head, and continues on his way. By the time he reaches the market square, the first flakes are swirling down, and he pulls up his hood -- it's still strange not to be wearing a kefta -- and greets the merchants politely. Neither he nor Ivan speak Zemeni particularly well, but Fedyor is a quick study and Ivan is extremely stubborn, so between the two of them, they've picked up enough to get by. There are enough immigrants around here that they can get by in a rough polyglot of Ravkan and Kerch, but it's better not to draw attention to themselves. You know. Just in case.

Fedyor finishes his shopping and heads home through the narrow streets, windows lit with candles and pine wreaths hung on doors, kids laughing and looking at the sky in eager expectation of snowballs with which to wreak generalized havoc. He likes the energy of it, the ordinary vivacity of living among regular people and not shut away behind the cloistered walls of the Little Palace, and he stops to savor it for a long moment. Then he ducks into a narrow stone doorway, fumbles with his mittened hand for the key, and opens it, ascending a creaky staircase to the second floor. Pushes the door open and calls, "Vanya, I'm home."

His husband glances up briefly, his scars looking particularly pronounced in the grey light, and silently satisfies himself that Fedyor is in one piece. Then he says, as usual, "Any trouble?"

"No." Fedyor knows why he asks, but he does feel that if there was, he could handle it, lingering parem hangover or otherwise. He carries the shopping into the crammed galley kitchen and begins to unload it, as Ivan pads in, leans against the doorway, and watches him like a lone wolf. Over his shoulder, Fedyor adds, "We could even go out and do something, you know. Something fun."

Ivan snorts. Ravka or Novyi Zem, it doesn't matter; Ivan and fun simply do not go in the same sentence. "Or not."

Fedyor raises an eyebrow, but decides not to press. Instead he fills the kettle with milk to warm it, melts some chocolate in the tarnished tin pan, and stirs it into two cups, handing one to Ivan. "Fine, then. Suit yourself."

They sip the hot chocolate for several moments, neither of them speaking, falling into that long-married silence where they don't need words to communicate. Then Ivan says at last, "I wish we could, Fedya. I just -- I don't think -- I'm not in the mood."

Fedyor could remark that when it comes to doing anything frivolous, Ivan rarely is, but he knows the feeling. Part of his eagerness to go out and socialize and make the best of it, in the way he habitually does as much as Ivan glowers in solitude, is to cover up that bone-deep pain, the sundering and the loss, the knowledge that it might be a very long time -- if ever -- until they go home again. He's grateful for the new life they're building in Weddle, even though it's decidedly out of the pulverized ashes of their old one, but that can't whisk away the ache. Then Fedyor finishes the hot chocolate and sets aside the cup, puts his arms around Ivan's neck, and snuggles close. "In that case," he orders, "keep me warm some other way. It's cold out."

Ivan smiles, just a bit, the way he does with Fedyor and no one else. He brushes a kiss over Fedyor's temple, slips his arm around him, and holds him close, and they stand there in the kitchen, listening to the shared echo of their heartbeat -- always, no matter where they are in the wide world, the one thing that feels like home. Then he shifts his position and lifts Fedyor up onto the counter, moving close to kiss him and let everything else fall away. "As you wish."

[katastronoot]

Friday Kiss Tag Game

Tagged by: @hannahcbrown thanks friend!

Tagging: @wispstalk @boethiahspillowbook @friend-of-giants and anyone else who wants to do it. This is so sweet

Rules: post a smooch between your OCs for Friday. It can be as light as a peck or as intense as a makeout. It can be romantic or platonic or familial. As long as a smooch takes place it’s free reign!

I thought about drawing something but I haven’t written anything for Baurus and Frieda yet. I planned on making it short and sweet but then 1200 words later here I am haha

••••••••

Strength.

She had always needed strength.

The moment she lost her parents and became orphaned on the streets of Anvil, she wished for strength. Pleaded for it. Prayed to the gods—the gods who were but just a whisper in the wind. They never really made their intentions clear. They weren’t listening to her prayers, couldn’t have been.

Because strength.

It never came to her when she needed it most.

Frieda’s gaze focused on the warm amber candle light flickering against the back wall of the washroom. It shifted the drab temple walls to those shades of warmer orangey hues complementing the deep red imperial banners that hung the walls. Her body was finally getting adjusted to the heat of the water that surrounded her, she could feel the stress of her endeavors begin to fade. With an exhale of breath she closed her eyes, trying to imagine that same flame from her candle. It took more self-control than she wanted to push away the visions of fiery hells that she journeyed through in the day prior. It was unavoidable.

Her waking hours were spent in the plane as well as her nights. She dreamt of that place.

Her own place. Her own piece.

Oblivion.

•••

He hadn’t seen her come back to the temple that night.

Martin was spending every waking hour studying the texts. He was on duty and was determined to never leave the emperor's side. He couldn’t let it happen again.

It was Jauffrey that gave him the order to get some rest. He would have denied it and stood guarding the door until his feet ached and he succumbed to over exhaustion. But, Frieda.

Frieda might just be the one reason why he would step away.

And he hadn’t seen her come home.

Most of his brethren, the other blades were retired for the night. It was late. The halls of the temple were quiet, only echoing each solid footstep he took. After hearing word that their hero came in but just a moment ago—soaking wet and hobbling down to the quarters—he took great stride to reach her.

Who knew what kind of torment she went through.

He did not find her sleeping in her cot and the rain pounding on the roof told him that she was not camping under the stars. He knocked on the door to the baths. No answer but a crackle of thunder shuddering from above. However, warmth was peeking through the cracks in the doorframe.

“Frieda.” He called softly but firmly. His eyes took in the sight. A sight that he has seen one too many times.

Her bare form was slumped in the bath. Articles of bloodied armor and underthings scattered the stone floor. The smell of incense and soap invaded his senses. It would have been pleasant if it weren’t for how dark the bath water had turned.

Crimson.

He approached her, chest rising and falling heavy. His skin touched hers and he felt her pulse beating at ease. He took a breath.

“Frieda, wake up.” He nudged her shoulder before taking a seat on the floor, an arm resting on the tub. Her eyes were rolling side to side behind her lids. Spasms and jolted movements struck through her joints as hushed whimpers escaped plush lips. She must have been having another one of those dreams. Those nightmares.

His gaze examined her body—riddled with cuts and purple marks. The dips and curves in her beautiful form were beginning to flatten. When was the last time she had a proper meal?

He cursed at her state.

For one so experienced in the art of restoration, she never conserved enough energy to heal herself.

•••

Her eyes fluttered open at the sound of a voice.

Baurus.

Frieda took a deep breath calming the race of her beating heart. She didn't startle so easily back then. She was so much more composed. But, sending her soul into the madness of oblivion every day does provoke change.

Her eyes met his dark brown. Soft.

“How long was I out?” The hoarseness in her voice made her grimace.

“Not sure. I noticed you did not come in and as soon as I could I went looking for you… Frieda. Look at you.”

She couldn’t help but smirk at the mother-hen tone to his voice. He was just that. Always so caring and kind.

“I am still breathing, aren’t I? My limbs are all in place. I seem quite alright.”

He looked down upon her. His build still held above her even at the angle. She took notice of the furrow in his dark brow, its creases painted with concern. Someone with such duty should not worry about one such as her.

“Baurus, truly—“ her vision tore away from his to the sight of her pale skin against the tinged water. More and more marks. More that would become scars serving as constant reminders of her place in this war. Constant storytellers painted along her flesh. A wrenching sensation washed through her stomach.

“—I’m fine.”

“Have you eaten?”

She shrugged, “I had a meal this morning.”

He let out a sigh, “Would you like me to bring you something?” His voice was quiet. She looked up into his eyes—not wanting his warmth to leave her.

“Please, stay.” Her tone cracked as she placed her palm against his skin.

“I’m not ready to be alone again.”

His body shifted closer. She could feel the heat from his skin against hers that had begun to chill from the cold bath water.

“How is Martin?” She asked with intent to distract herself from her state.

Baurus shook his head, “He has been working hard. I don’t think I even saw him blink his eyes today. He’s pushing himself to the point—“ his voice took a pause and he exhaled. “You need to rest. Both of you. Just take a moment for yourself and breathe. Please. I am tired of seeing you suffer.”

“We both have a duty…I can’t rest. You know this.”

He felt her hand grip his wrist. As he looked down into her eyes he was able to see through the darkness that pooled beneath her eyelids. Her beautiful heterochromatic eyes that glimmered in blues and greens. He saw her beauty through her misery.

What he would give to take it away from her.

“You are strong, Frieda. You will fight this battle and remain successful as you are every day. In years to come we will look back on this as just a small feat in our lives full of many.”

Her fingertips brushed along his arm, pulling him in closer towards her. All of her attention pooled to the words that he spoke.

“I am here for you. I always will be. For you, for Martin. I am here and I do not intend on going anywhere.”

His voice grew softer, “you are not alone anymore.”

She smiled through the wetness that formed against her eyes. With a gentle tug on the linen of his tunic, he yelped as she nearly pulled him into the cool water with her.

The delicate skin of his lips met hers in an embrace. It was not forceful. Not lustful—but tender and comforting. They both needed this. A release of emotion in an act of intimacy. Being both on duty at the temple never allowed for much opportunity to show their affection.

This kiss was one of many to come, even if she had to wait far in between.

His lips parted hers. Deep brown gazing into two orbs—one of blue and one of green.

She knew at that moment that he was the one thing she never thought she could have.

Her strength.

[wheelin-after-midnight]

30.

What was the last thing you laughed at?

The way Nippy was looking at me while I was talking to her.

How many times have you visited the beach in your lifetime?

Once or twice.

Do you know anyone personally who has committed murder?

No.

Do you use temper glass phone screen protectors?

No.

Have you ever cracked your phone screen badly?

This actually just happened yesterday. I set my tablet down quickly where I thought it would be fine for a second, but it fell face down and now the screen is super cracked. I was looking into potentially getting a new tablet soon anyway, but I didn't really want to have to do it during Christmas season. :(

Would you ever take up pole dancing as a hobby? I would if I were physically capable of doing it, but I'm not.

What is one of your most prized possessions?

Nippy. Any of my Nan's paintings that I have. The jewelry she gave me.

Do you find commercials/ads to be amusing or just annoying?

Often they're both.

Do you enjoy taking late night drives?

I can't drive, but I enjoy late night drives with Brittany. Super fun.

Do you prefer incense, candles, or something else for making your house smell nice?

My Scentsy wax warmer, if anything.

How many pets/children do you have?

One cat. No kids. Want them, can't have them.

Have you ever accidentally stolen something?

Nah.

What was the last thing you needed help with?

Figuring out why half the lights in my apartment stopped working when the breakers were fine and the bulbs had been recently changed and weren't even looking burnt.

What's the most expensive article of clothing you own?

The bridesmaid's dress I wore to my sister's wedding was just under $200.

What's one of your favorite memories from your childhood?

Pa building me a bike I could pedal with my hands and he and Nan surprising me with it. I went into more detail about it a few surveys ago. #27 maybe? Y'all can go back and find it if you feel like reading more about that.

What seems like a cult to you but isn't one?

The way some people go so hard for celebrities that they like and start throwing boundaries out the window, refusing to see them as real, human people with the same emotions as everyone else, deserving of privacy and normalcy.. It's very weird.

What do you do when you start to feel depressed or really down?

I sleep a lot more. Cry a lot. I withdraw even more. Don't eat enough, or at all.

Do you keep your nails manicured?

Hah, no. I can't afford to.

When was the last time you checked your mail?

Not for a bit. I have to have someone go to my box and bring it to me and our postal service was on strike, so.

Do you do positive affirmations daily?

No. I try to remind myself of good things and to be kind to myself, but I have a harder time following through some days.

What time did you wake up this morning?

I first woke up at 10 but then went back to bed.

Do you like lemon with your tea?

When I'm sick.

Do you know anyone with the name Andrew?

An old friend's son, but I don't talk to or hang out with her anymore.

Are you a sensitive person?

Soooooo deeply sensitive.

Do you know any of your neighbors well?

A couple. I've been here over a decade so have had a lot of turnover with who the neighbors on my floor are. A bunch of us used to sit in the hallway and talk and drink during the covid shutdown when everybody was home. They were very kind to me at a very vulnerable time when my Nan had just died. There's still a couple living here from that time. I'm not friends with them, but I'll never forget how they treated me when others who should have been there never even checked on me, pretended my grief wasn't happening, and ignored when I needed them.

Have you ever received a traffic ticket?

No.

Do you enjoy glitter or find it to be a nuisance?

Both. It's pretty, but omg, it's such a mess and gets everywhere.

Would you ever want to be a politician?

I used to think about it. To try to help the disabled population. But no. No matter my intentions when starting out, I don't want the world of politics to end up corrupting me.

Have you ever been into Pokémon? If so, what's your favorite?

No, but I like pikachu. He's cute.

What's your favorite soup?

All the vegetarian ones I made when I ate that way. So good. I love homemade soup.

What color reminds you of the week you've had so far?

Blue-grey.

Chinese or Mexican food? What's your favorite dish?

Mexican. Burritos or burrito bowls.

Have you ever seen a wolf in person?

I don't think so.

Are you currently doing something else besides this survey?

Thinking about how I'm gonna shower and clean Nip's boxes after I'm finished.

Do you get annoyed by repetitive questions?

Occasionally.

What's the fastest you've ever driven?

I can't drive.

Have you ever listened to Tim McGraw?

Absolutely.

What's the last thing you lit on fire?

Nothing.

Do you still watch American Idol?

Just the auditions, if I happen to catch some of them.

What's your favorite things about life?

Not a whole hell of a lot right now. I'm terrified of the upcoming complete upending of everything and I'm having a really hard time with it. My cat, music, my girlfriend, good coffee, and my favourite foods are things that see me keep putting one foot in front of the other as much as possible, though.

What is your favorite emoticon?

🥰😂😘😈🥹😭🤣🫠🤦🏻‍♀️☺️ Are the ones I use the most.

When was the last time you had to replace the batteries in something?

I've used rechargeable batteries for years. Much easier since I can't get to the store on my own. Less waste.

Have you ever seen a street name that was funny or a town name?

Not that I can remember, but every time we go down a street with my given name while driving, my friends look at me and go "we're on your street."

Do you like to watch anime?

No.

Do you ever drink energy drinks?

Only the Starbucks or Starbucks double shot ones, and not very often.

How many surveys have you created?

None.

Do you just enjoy taking them?

Well, yeah.

What type of cell phone do you own? Do you like it?

None. I've a home phone and a tablet.

What's your plans for the rest of the day?

Shower, clean Nip's boxes, feed her again, vacuum, do some dishes, talk to babe, listen to an audiobook, put something on to fall asleep to.

[ohwolfling]

Things I did to reset after a few days of intense chronic pain with increased ideation:

First things first, check in with the site So You Feel Like Shit, to take care of some basics. It walks you through when you last ate, slept, took your meds/vitamins, had some water, etc, and gives you teeny tiny goals to help you get by. It's non-judgemental, requires no sign in or anything, & doesn't limit how often (or not) you use it. The following might resonate with you if you don't know what else to do and you can do it in whatever order you want. This is just what makes me into a person.

PLEASANT ROT. I took massage balls, my rice heating pack for my shoulders and neck, and a full body heating pad into a comfy chair with my preferred blanket, and also took an ice pack for my chest so that I could stand all that heat AND reset my nervous system. Once I was comfy, I set up my Kindle to hang out with Lestat. I'll do a podcast that doesn't make me feel like I need to pay attention or the Endel app in my bluetooth headphones usually but tonight my roommate was playing the new Star Wars game so I let that be my background noise. I set a timer once I couldn't read anymore and let myself scroll TikTok asmr vids for a half hour.

JOURNAL. Sometimes I don't feel safe or stable enough to write about my feelings so I'll just doodle or make lines and shade in squares. Tonight I decided to use my journal to write down some Irish vocab staples and then moved into phrases that felt relevant to the struggle. The Irish for homesickness btw is Tá cumha i ndiaidh an bhaile orm.

LAUNDRY! I physically pulled the cubes out of the little shelf and threw them onto my bed, threw the clothes in my hamper into little piles near the appropriate cube, and then shoved them in. I still have a pile of clothes to hang up but hey, if I don't get to that, I still made progress. ANYTHING on a floor, chair, bathroom door/counter, gets tossed into the washer to do a fresh load.

GET CLEAN AND COMFY! Stripped down, used antibacterial wipes (I showered yesterday but also sometimes it might be longer due to pain/mental health/freak plumbing incidents, whatever), and put on fresh comfy clothes combos so my current night clothes can also hit the wash. Regardless of weather, put on a base for warmer temps and set aside a hoodie/sweatshirt and socks jic you get cold.

FEEL CUTESY! For me, this means braiding my hair, putting on a perfume, lighting a candle with a smell complimentary to that fragrance, and setting my ambient lighting just so. For you, could be slugging, a little lip gloss, flexing in the mirror, whatever.

HYDRATION! I fill a big mason jar with water to add a lil flavor packet to it and fill a regular water bottle for regular water. Now I have options and can refill the Brita filter. When I have extra bottled water, I use resets like these to make sure I have 3 or 4 in the fridge & two room temp by my bed, jic things get bad again.

SNACK TRAY! When I'm down, I don't really know what I want so variety is key. I put tortilla chips & spinach dip, a handful of almonds, a spoon of peanut butter, half a piece of cheesecake, & the aforementioned flavor water on this tray. If hunger returns, I am ready.

DISTRACTION! while the laundry is doing it's thing, I have booted up Dimension 20 on a screen and a little strategy game (Dawnmaker) on the other.

After my next rest- whenever and whatever that means for me- I will either repeat this process OR I can make a little to do list of other things that might bring me joy, make the next week easier, or stuff that just needs to get done. Everything on that list will be something that takes 20 minutes or less because I know that I'm still physically and mentally drained. The goal is not to overdo it to prove myself. The goal is to keep on keeping on.

[furnitureguide]

5 Ways to Turn a Tiny Balcony Into a Coffee Shop Vibe

A few years ago, I lived in a 16m² rental.⠀

No dining table. No privacy.

The balcony was the only place I could breathe.⠀

It was just enough space for one chair.

And that was enough.⠀

It became my little coffee shop, my quiet corner, my breath of peace.⠀

If you have even the tiniest balcony, here are 5 small things that changed mine—and might change yours too:⠀

1. Foldable outdoor table + chair – easy to tuck away, just enough for a morning coffee and a book.

2. Wall-hanging planters – green without the floor clutter.

3. Soft LED fairy lights – make every evening feel like a slow Sunday.

4. Neutral-toned outdoor mat – instantly warmer, cozier, more ‘lived-in’.

5. One candle. That’s it. – scent + calm + soft light.⠀

I didn’t buy everything at once. I couldn’t afford to.

But slowly, one piece at a time, I built my peace.⠀

And if you’re starting fresh or tight on space, https://furnitureguide.net/ helped me figure out what worked (and what I didn’t need).⠀

You don’t need a new house.

Just a new corner.

Start there.