#beyond my usual aches pains and exhaustion

[magicdustsworld]

𝐀 𝐁𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀(4)

Ryomen Sukuna x Fem!Reader

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: A guide on how to properly date your tattooed, big, bad boyfriend.

𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐒: Established relationship, slice of life

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Profanity, illness, fluff, mentions of blood, no curse AU, no mentions of y/n.

𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐃𝐄 𝟒: 𝐍𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐇

A/N: ik i haven't posted in a while (in my defence, school is taking up too much of my time to focus on anything else) but I got an off day and this was a quick write up (actually not) jhjhjhs wc - 3.7k. Hope you enjoy <3

Divider credits - @cafekitsune

𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐃𝐄 𝟑

It's not usual for Sukuna to fall ill.

However, when he does it’s like all the pathogens known to mankind have taken it upon themselves to infect him.

This time, it isn't so different after all.

Since the break of dawn Sukuna's been awake. Body twisted in an uncomfortable manner under the duvets, the dim flicker of the night lamp proves to be a companion in the otherwise solitary room.

"Fucking hell," He curses under his breath, shifting his position to ease the persistent ache that ripples through his body; his joints, for some reason, seems to have tightened itself to his bones. Slight movement proving to be difficult. While the air conditioner functions properly, a sheen of perspiration aglows his forehead—he swabs the moisture only to meet with another thin layer marring his skin, seconds later. He forces open an eye, trying to contemplate why your figure beside him does seems so fuzzy. No sooner, he can clear the mystery does a wave of shiver runs down his spine. "What the hell is this?"

The question leaves his lips, followed by strange churn of his stomach and on instinct he smacks his hand over his mouth.

The next minutes are blurred. Literally blurred for the brief time as if his body is set on auto-pilot, beckoning him to rise from the bed and walk to the bathroom.

As the expunging liquids leaves his throat and down the toilet does his distinct vision returns. Lips apart, he breaths in copious amount of air while the room seems to spin in a whirl. Once his senses have returned, he reached to flush down the contents only to halt.

Is that... blood?

.

"Temperature 101.6 °F and he threw up in the morning."

Sukuna would rather be anywhere but here.

Sitting in a doctor's cabin with you while the former wouldn't stop with his ridiculous questions. Inadvertently, he rests his scalp against the wall, a searing pain ripping from his chest every once in a while, causing him to jolt as if he's being electrocuted.

"Any other discomfort? Body ache or...?" Shinzo trails off, continuing with the physical examination of his patient.

In response, Sukuna shakes his head negatively. However, you take it upon yourself to be honest, "He does and he coughed through the whole drive."

"Not the whole—"

"Keep your mouth shut." Harshly you rebuke, shooting a scornful glare his way.

His lips curl down, on the verge to retaliate before the notion of it seems indolent. He's already been through a series of blood test and chest X rays since the last thirty minutes, exhausting him beyond relief; no need to add more to the list. Therefore, his mouth forms a thin line.

Shinzo hums, finishing with the check up as he returns to his seat across you. Scribbling down on the prescription, a knock sounds from the door and soon his assistant strides in with a number of reports. While the doctor reads through the files of his current patient, your hypertension manifests itself upon your being when your eyes find your boyfriend.

Awfully muted, his throat must have chipped while he threw up—reason to the unusual bleeding. Shoulders raised in a manner, tints of red stains his skin and the groans that escalates from him whenever he attempts to move just causes you to wince. You chew on your bottom lip, fiddling with the fabric of your jacket as the momentary silence in the room stretches. For too long that this might be the loudest silence, you’ve been in.

"Does he need to be hospitalized?"

"No—"

"I am not talking to you."

Sukuna clicks his tongue, just taking a mental note to give you an earful once all of this shit is over. It's so fucking funny. Oh, for heavens... he is perfectly fine. Well yeah, maybe some coughing fit but he can work through that for the day. No way did you call Kenjaku and call in sick for him. And he allowed that? Allowed you to drag you here as well? Alright, maybe he is sick.

Shinzo sets the files down, "Stage I Pneumonia," He concludes, straightening his posture and continues with the prescription. "No need for hospitalization but I am prescribing an antiviral— Tamiflu. Thirty minutes after breakfast, lunch and dinner for three days. Ibuprofen remains whenever he gets high fever and for the cough..." He pinches the bridge of his nose, ripping the sheet before passing it to you. "There's the Honiitus syrup, he can have 10 ml now. Rest, you know."

You nod, scanning the sheet in your grasp, irises halting on the specific medications. Craning your neck upto him, you ask, "Thank you and anything else?"

"Adequate rest and homemade food and he's good to go."

.

"Don't be difficult now, drink it."

"No."

Sukuna scowls at you and you scowl back. His eyes shifts to the tin medicine cup-cap in your hand filled with the amber coloured liquid which is supposed to heal his sore throat.

Currently, confined inside the four walls of his room, this place is 100 times better than that doctor's cabin and any hospital bed. He is sure just a whole day of sleep will make him back on his feet but you just have to be so... persistent.

"I am not asking, drink it." You extend your hand, bringing the liquid to his lips, only for him to turn his face away.

"And I said no," He spits back, eye twitching as he disregards your terse call. "Get that shit out of my face."

"This is for your own good, Sukuna. Stop acting like a child."

Sukuna only huffs in response, muttering a string of curses under his breath. No way is he letting you win this plus that thing in your hand smells disgusting.

“Absolutely not.”

You heave out loudly, "I don't want to force you."

That draws an almost amused chuckle out of him, he tilts his head—eyes shutting down and mouth clamping with a sound as another wave of nausea overrides him. Once composed, he reopens his eyes, challenge swirling in the crimson hues, "You think you can force me?"

“I don’t think so,” A mirthless smile curves into your own mien, you regard his dare with one of your own. "I know so."

"Sure."

"So are you going to be a good boy and drink it or do I need to make you?"

He scoffs, "Go on and try."

You pause for a second, bringing the cup down, gaze settled on him and for reasons unknown, Sukuna senses trouble. "Remember, you asked for it."

He shuts his eyes, rolling the irises behind the lids. You are just so funny sometimes. To think you can force him? Really? Even in this state, he can easily overpower you without even trying. Pick you up and throw you on the bed without any effort. But just for the jokes and laughs, he will let you get a head start.

In the reverie, he is when your warm palm grazes his jaw.

Here it comes.

Until it doesn't.

There's no hint of strength, no force, nothing as you let your palm trail over his skin. He opens his eyes and good lord's... You are close. Too close for his liking. Not that he is complaining. Of course. You can be closer if you want but wait– he is infected, right?

So you shouldn't be near him.

But it's like some hypnotism that's in play as he gazes into your eyes. With the added bonus of your soothing touch on his jaw, the pad of your thumb running on his lower lip—you pull down the flesh. He can see you more clearly than ever, from the slight furrow of your brows to the twitch of your lips and the light reflecting on your eyes.

It's clear.

So, so clear.

A heat spreads through his cheeks, mingling with the blood flowing in his veins and in seconds, his heart rate amplifies. Was it one of the side effects of Pneumonia? Shinzo obviously didn’t mention this but- fuck! You are here and the proximity only hitches the breath in his throat. Your rhythmic exhalation of air fans his skin and he swallows a lump.

Fuck!

He is truly sick.

You draw him in, "Open your mouth."

Before he can make sense of the situation, his body complies. Lips parting and soon you are pouring the medicine down his throat. He gulps, eyes still trained on you and yours on his.

You sit back on the bed and Sukuna blinks.

Wait– what just happened?

"That wasn't too hard now, was it?" You chuckle, pouring some water on the cup and swirl it.

"You– you tricked me."

"Oh? Did I?" Feigning innocence, you laugh again. "And what if I did? ...Oh, and don't make that face now, it doesn't taste that bad.”

“Taste it yourself then speak.”

“I am not the one who’s sick, you are” You muse, cleaning the cap and fastening the lid. He mutters an incoherent curse under his breath and you stand up. Straightening the duvet, you beckon him to lay down.

Something he does without any protest. However, his eyes flickers to the door for a brief second and now only, he is met with the yellowish eyes of a feline.

He raises an eyebrow, “What do you want?”

Kuro passes him a languid stare, his whiskers tremor once almost like its scowling. Only serving for the former’s vexation, the man waves him off without a thought. A low squeal is erupted from him and he is on the verge of pouncing of him when step in.

Picking up the cat, you bring it up to your face, “See Kuro, your papa is sick. So no trespassing here for a week.”

He blinks and answers you as though he understands what you mean.

You’re pretty sure he will try to barge in the second you leave but hey! What’s the problem to hold a little hope? Setting the cat down, you usher him out. Turning towards your boyfriend, you shoot him a heads up. One which he returns with a dismissive gesture.

“Get some rest in the meantime. I will be in the living room, just call if you need something.”

The lights dim out, curtain pulled over – creating the perfect atmosphere for an hour or more nap. Chirping of birds and the revving engines of cars from outside fades into background as comfort envelopes Sukuna amidst the sheets.

Despite it all, hollowness unfurls into his being.

The notion of silence returning again while he the room cloaks itself in darkness strikes an anonymous melancholy though his chest. A garter wraps around his neck, tightening with each passing second. And just like that the calm veneer crumbles into dust.

He pries an eye open and although the blackened room vanishes everything, its difficult to amiss your retreating figure. The haze increases, mouth sealed shut – he can’t speak. So, he extends an arm.

Wait-

The door closes shut.

.

He is walking through a mirage.

Surely, he has strolled through this area before. Once. Twice. Thrice. This is the fourth instance he is met with the same beige tinted cottages with scarlet thatched roofs.

He walks through the secluded lane across them.

Where is he going? He doesn’t know that. Just he is walking all alone. On his own. Just cause he has to.

Sky obscured with thick clouds, every once in a while does the thunder cracks. Lightening over the whole region. Sound so prominent, so daunting that it shakes the whole neighbourhood. For reasons, Sukuna finds an undulating spark tightening over his frame as every step forward becomes a struggle on its own. Down pouring heavily, the droplets causes his clothes to stick to his skin. Dripping down his ink stained countenance, clouding his vision. Breaths filled with raggedness, he wipes the moisture off- it isn’t removed.

He tries again and again and again.

Doesn’t work.

Nothing works.

How can anything ever work when-

Only a singular step he has taken and its like he is pushed off from a building.

Falling down, he doesn’t know what awaits him.

However, when he returns to his feet, the whole scenery has changed.

Instead of the murky countryside stretching with grasslands till the horizon, he is met with the picturesque view of a beach. Sparkling waves rises with all its glory, flaunting its sheer power before crashing on the sandy soil. Seagulls fly over the water bodies, their voice being a distinct reminder of this serenity. Murmurs of human life accompanied by distant tune from seaside eateries greet him. The gentle wisp of the sea breeze ruffles his hair, wafting sand into his eyes and nostrils; he doesn’t flinch.

When he looks around, everyone vanishes.

From the footprints on the soil to the sea castles to all the tourists. No one’s here.

The seclusion stalls on him only a second later. That’s when he realizes, everything’s truly gone.

The scorching sun blazes in fury, momentarily blinding him. Humidity persists in the air, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. The waves crash again and he walks towards it. For some unknown reason-this feels right.

What’s the point of continuing anymore?

The sand prickles under his feet as he staggers towards the water. Sky high waves flicker and dance, crashing onto him and even though the musky salt should cause him to recoil, the intensity should strike some agony – he feels nothing.

Paving his way through the water until the very liquid surrounds him. All of this, just seems so empty.

“Sukuna,”

As if broken out from a trance by the mere call of his name, he turns.

Once again the vast expanse of the world does everything shift.

“You’re holding yourself well,” Jin remarks, wiping some specks of soap water from a plate. “Better than I expected you to.”

Sukuna’s eyes drift to take in the surroundings; standing across the kitchen counter of his apartment. His brother indulges in cleaning some utensils, a forlorn lilt of his lips prompts the former to raise an eyebrow. The room remains quiet only broken by the usual cling of the cutlery. From his periphery, he could see his nephew crouched down before Kuro, the boy ruffles the feline’s hair and now the cat should retaliate. Until it doesn’t.

“Taking care of Kuro as well,” Jin stares down at the duo. “Give yourself some credit y’know.”

Wait- since when did his brother know about the cat? And since when did Yuji turn to silent?

Gazing out the window- his eyes widen.

When did his neighbourhood change so much?

Without any explanation, Sukuna marches out of the apartment.

Greeted by a hoard of stones situated all over the grassland. Each of different shapes, sizes and perhaps… something just might be written on it. He doesn’t wait to read. Why should he doesn’t have his reading glasses with him?

Feet squashing the lifeless grasses, the leaves don’t crunch under his boots. His steps are steady, turning round a corner or more whenever he so pleases. Maybe this is the way out of the labyrinth of stones.

However, he halts before a particular stone.

For reasons unknown, Sukuna feels life slipping out of his fingers.

.

Sukuna wakes up with a jolt.

Eyes wide open, he breaths in through his mouth. Fingers trembling with the surge of adrenaline as his shoulders rise and fall in a cadence. Think coat of sweat mars his whole body, vest clinging to him like a second skin and the duvets covering his form renders him panting fit.

What was that? The beach? His brother? Those stones?

What- what was happening?

The eerie maze where he walked? Ran?

Wait- what occurred?

The ceiling lights blinds him with all the intensity, he shuts his eyelids, grunting out like a wounded animal. Some external voice rings out, too loud, too disturbing that he’s forced to press his palm over his ears. Touches guide his skin from his cheek to shoulders and a burst of repulsion compels him to push the person away.

Who the hell was it to hold him like that?

He’s got a girlfriend for fuck’s sake. Get the hell away from him.

However, instead of leaving him alone they are inching closer. He is met with the same touch again but the noise starts to clear as well.

“…Just a dream, you’re fine...”

Albeit begrudgingly, Sukuna removes his hand from his ears.

“…You’re home, calm down…”

It’s a gamble but he manages to reopen his eyes.

“Are you ok? What happened?”

Sukuna blinks, stupefied for the second.

There you are, standing before him while cupping his face in your little palms. Thumb running circles over the tattoos on his face, irises pooling with sheer concern, your eyes are solely focused on a subject. That subject being him.

He looks around.

Notably, nothing has changed. He is still in his bedroom, sitting on the bed with the comforter pooled around his hips. From the traces of light pouring from the ajar window, he can make out how the light fades to dark as twilight tints the skies in hues of violet and blue.

“Hey,” You tap his cheek, urging him to face you, “Why aren’t you speaking?”

He only responds with long stare.

“Sore throat? Should I bring honiitus again?”

“Don’t even think about it, woman.” He barks, lips curling down in utter disgust as the very prominent taste of the damn syrup lingers in the back of his mouth.

Without making a fuss about his sudden outburst, you place your backhand over his forehead. “Mhm… you don’t seem to have fever.” You nod, “No ibuprofen, then.”

“Fucking finally.”

“Don’t celebrate too early,” You snort, a mirthful smile creeping onto you, “Tamiflu after lunch, remember?”

“Well genius, I didn’t have lunch.”

You snap your fingers, “I know, and there it is,” You point to a tray stacked with a lidded container resting on top of the nightstand.

He stares at it for a second too long, “What’s that?”

“Boiled vegetables and… no–” You flick your index finger in the air, a clear negative sign. “No more tantrums, you’ll shut up and eat.”

“As if,” He scoffs, twisting his body away from the utensil, he faces the wall as if the blank canvas seems more interesting than the food you cooked.

You sigh, sitting down on the limited space provided for you on the bed across him, “Just because I call you baby doesn’t mean you have to act like one.”

“I am not enacting–  no, just– fuck,”  He curses under his breath, fumbling with the words too many times before he reaches a conclusion. “I am not acting like a god damn child.”

“Sure.” His eyes narrows down while he regards you. You stretch your arms, the joints cracking under the evident tension, “I added a few pieces of meat for taste, just so you know.”

He raises an eyebrow, retorts accumulating in his mouth. Just a second away from being unleashed before his gaze lands on a bowl and a pack of damp towels. “What happened with that?”

“What?”

“That.”

You glance at the way he points, taking a moment to contemplate before you answer, “I called Dr. Shinzo again, he said applying cold water towels will help with the fever so…”

Sukuna doesn’t know why, but he stills. “You were doing that all this time?”

“Yeah?”

“Why?”

You tilt your head, “Maybe cause you need it?” He blinks and you find your patience wearing thin. Dismissing the confusion clouding his visage, you reach for the tray and pick it up. The clattering of the utensils due to your unstable balance rings through the whole room. “See, this won’t be that bad. Besides, it’s only for a few days, you can manage, right?”

He doesn’t answer.

“Aw c’mon, now,” You unfasten the lid, dipping the spoon. “I will feed you as compensation. How does that sound?”

He still doesn’t answer but with the way he doesn’t protest your offer, he hopes to let you know his affirmation.

.

Sukuna refuses to let you know that the boiled vegetable soup isn’t as bad as he thought.

.

Two days later

.

Credits to his above average immunity or whatsever but Sukuna is almost back to complete health in just a span of few days.

Finally.

Done he is with all the ibuprofen and every other shit he has to endure.

Never again.

As a ritual, only does the lunchtime ends with the empty hot pot of boiled vegetables being lidded back does Sukuna notice the uncharacteristic clattering of the utensils as you try to hold them in place.

“Give me that.”

Before you can reply, the tray is already being grabbed by your boyfriend as he sets it down on the nightstand.

“That needs to be in the kitchen.”

 Instead of gracing you with a proper answer, you are met with his crimson hues filled with something you can’t quite put a finger on. He urges you to sit with him and you comply. Feeling the need to for some reason.

“What?” You ask. His eyes darts down, following his gaze, confusion clouds your head for he is looking at your hands. “Huh?”

No sooner does the word leave your mouth than he grasps both of your hands on his own. You gasp yet don’t try to pull away.

Sukuna traces his thumb over the ridge of your knuckles to the tips of your nails. Turning them around, he draws every single contour lines on your palm as if he’s etching them onto his memory. It’s not the first time, he is holding your hand but it’s the first time he is noticing all the details. Like how a tiny callous has formed beside the edge of your thumb or how the tiny scar runs down the side of your ring finger.

His grasp tightens over yours, nothing to make it hurt. He would never.

He brings them up, pressing his lips over each and every, societally deemed, imperfection. At last, he turns to your backhand. This time, keeping his gaze stilled on you, he kisses your knuckles.

Perhaps, he’d have kissed you too but he doesn’t want the infection to pass.

Perhaps, you’ll know someday that… he is grateful.

Taglist: @comeonatmebruh @sweetpo1son @malazloje @tadabzzzbee @o-ikawaii

[444ngles]

You know you want me

synopsis: some variation of either you or your partner taking an aphrodisiac. content: fem reader, gojo, nanami, toji, geto, rough sex, angry sex, taking of aphrodisiac, work sex, masturbation, dirty talk, teasing, oral, penetration, praise, degradation, hair pulling, choking, mild exhibition, slapping, all big dicks duh

Gojo

Exhausted was an understatement. As you dragged yourself through the front door, the serene silence welcomed you with open arms. 

‘Finally, some peace and quiet’ you thought, kicking your shoes aside and dropping onto the plush of your couch. 

Although…It shouldn’t have been this quiet. Where was Gojo? Your boyfriend had texted you that he was on his way home over an hour ago. What had he gotten up to? Maybe he’d taken a nap?

Feeling the urge to check, you stumbled your way to the slightly ajar bedroom door, peeping through the gap. Careful not to wake him, you hold your breath, straining to make out his form in the dusk of your room. The bedside lamp was shone, on its dimmest setting, and the curtains were drawn shut. It took longer than usual for your eyes to adjust, but when they did, you couldn’t help but wish they hadn’t

Shocked, you freeze, finally able to make out his hunched posture, one hand covering his mouth the other rapidly jerking beneath the sheets. 

Subtle groans and grunts slipped from his muffled lips, eyebrows shrewd together as he fucked into his fist. Mesmerised, you couldn’t help but watch as his toned abs flexed and relaxed, his hips thrusting upwards, even his arms seemed tense, veins pulsing against his milky skin. 

“O-oh f-fuck, yes. Yes!” Suddenly, head thrown back, Gojo pistoned into his tight grip faster and harder, so much so that the covers fell from atop of him, revealing his furiously red tip, shooting rope after rope of thick, white cum. His orgasm painted your sheets, his hand gripping his mouth so hard you could see his skin turning a painful red. 

Over and over he pumped his length, but still, even after his orgasm ended he seemed to remain impossibly hard. 

Relaxing his grip, Gojo fell slack against your headboard, hands falling to his side. His frustration was evident…something about it was arousing. Then, as if he felt your presence, he looked straight at the door, crystal-coloured eyes meeting yours. “Finally! You’re home… help me, please?” 

Never had you known Gojo to whine like he did then, sounding like a wounded puppy as he brought his hands together, begging for your assistance. Almost pitying him, you can’t help the faux pout as you climb on the bed, ruffling his soft white tufts of hair. “What’s wrong my love?”

“My dick…it hurts, so bad!” Eyes glossy, cheeks flushed, you can’t even begin to imagine how long he’d been going at it. 

“Let me kiss it better…” Lowering yourself to his lap, laying on your stomach between his thighs, you bring your plush lips to his glossy tip. From just the one kiss, Gojo shuddered, gripping the sheets at his side. Sure enough, he must have been beyond overstimulated at this point. “Does that feel good?” 

Nodding desperately, Gojo reaches to sink his fingers into your hair, softly gripping at your scalp. “M-more, please.”  Biting down harshly on his bottom lip, he braces himself for the contact, as if even the slightest touch could make him bust. 

“Yes sir…as you wish.” Kiss after kiss, his grip on your head tightened, a sign of growing arousal. Then, sticking your tongue out, you swirl it around the underside of his tip, before licking your way to his slit. 

“Nghh that’s it, don’t st-top.” With heavy breaths, Gojo’s thighs tensed and relaxed either side of your head, feeling his balls clench as you left warm stripes of saliva across every inch of his painfully hard cock. From his base, up his shaft and to his leaky tip, you left no inch untouched. Just what he needed to soothe his unbearable ache. 

Tantalising fingers wrapped around him, feeling how his cock twitched and throbbed for joy. “Needed me that bad hmm? How had you coped?” Cooing at this new and submissive side to your otherwise smart-mouthed and quick-witted boyfriend, you couldn’t resist the urge to make the most of it. 

Lips parted, you bring them to his throbbing head, sinking your head onto his length slowly, only stopping when his tip hit the back of your throat. Your hands, meanwhile, worked on his base and balls. Unable to withstand your blatant teasing any longer,his hips shot up, grip on your scalp holding you in place as he fucked himself deep into your throat. Truthfully, he’d been working on his erection for over an hour, to no avail it just wouldn’t go down. While watching you think you were dominating him was hot, he simply couldn’t wait anymore. 

Shrieking and gasping, you slap at his thigh, begging him to stop. “Sa-Satoru sto-stop!” Muffled by his cock filling your mouth, repeatedly abusing the back of your throat, he barely noticed your panic. As blood rushed to his ears, pulse so strong he thought his veins might burst, your gurgles and gags took a backseat in his mind. Gojo just needed to cum, and now. 

“ ‘M so sorry, my gorgeous g-girl…” Teeth clamped together, he muttered praise after praise, watching in utter bliss as fat tears rolled down your cheeks, sinfully glossing those dollish eyes that he loved so much. 

“I’m so close, f-fuck…” With each thrust, Gojo felt his balls clenching, tighter and tighter as your mouth sucked him in, constricting around his fat head as you gasped for air. 

When the shock wore off, you found yourself entranced by how rough he was being, so drunk on the way his cock mercilessly abused your throat, you felt your cunt begin to throb. Desperate to see your boyfriend’s fucked out expression, you looked up through glossy eyes, blown out pupils and slack jaw a testament to his pleasure. Feeling his need to release, you hollow out your cheeks, sucking his cock sinfully down your throat, making it harder to thrust in and out. 

“Mngh…that’s it, that’s it baby, so good!” Grunts heavier now, Gojo’s pace became sloppier, barely pulling out before he was back down your throat again. Struggling to take his throbbing tip, chocking and gagging around him, Gojo shuddered at the feeling of your throat tightening. “F-fuck, I’m going to c-cum.” 

Almost whiney, you can’t help but moan in return, so turned on by the sight before you, you thought you might cum too. Soon enough, his eyes were clenching shut, head rolling back and jaw dropping open, as his thighs trembled beside you. Finally, hot ropes shot down your throat, Gojo’s thrusts ceasing as he pumped you full of his cum, making you swallow every drop. Only when you tapped his thigh, clearly desperate for air, did he pull out. 

Coughing and heaving, you roll onto your back, throat soar and coarse, you could only hope you’d be able to speak tomorrow. Shutting your eyes, you fight to catch your breath, relaxing into the plush of the sheets beneath you. It’s  when you hear the rustling of a wrapper that you finally open them, looking up at Gojo. 

“Want to go again?” Cheeky smile painting his face, you can’t help but gape your mouth in shock. Sucking at the sweet he’d just popped into his mouth, he extends his hand to pass you the empty wrapper.

“You’re joking?” Sitting up right, you grab it from him.

“Nope…read it.” Nodding to imply he meant the wrapper, he watched in anticipation as you digested the cause for his untamable erection. 

“W-what…why have you just had another?”

“It was a gift. Now take those panties off.” 

Nanami 

As Nanami’s personal assistant, it was your job to photocopy, type up his notes and most importantly, make his tea. For some reason, your boss was really picky about his daily brew, almost snobbish in his criticism. “Why is it cold?” “You took the tea bag out too early!” “This tastes like dishwater…did you add sugar?” 

How hard could it be to make a simple cup of green tea, in the same simple mug? Still, he found ways to complain, forcing you to remake them over and over with no remorse. Other than this, Nanami was a fair employer, always understanding and happy to turn a mistake into a teaching moment - not when it came to his beloved beverage, however. 

Today, like any other, you were in the kitchenette, boiling the water and ripping open the paper wrapper. You hadn’t thought to question the new packaging, with the usual plain green being replaced with an almost effervescent pink. Who were you to doubt the tea change, he ordered them, it was simply your job to make it! 

“Hurry up! How long does it take to make a drink?”

 Pulling a mocking face you repeat his words in a soured voice, stirring the water into the cup more aggressively than usual. If he rejected this, you just might have lost your mind. 

Bringing it to his side, and placing it on his coaster, you sighed as he ignored you, too busy writing to even acknowledge you. “Your tea, sir.” 

Nodding, he takes it in his hands, polite pinky held in the air as he brings the mug to his lips, taking a prolonged sip. “You know what…this might be the best one you’ve made yet!?” Surprised, you might have even caught a glimpse of a smile! Something Nanami rarely offered you the pleasure of. 

“It’s probably those new tea bags you ordered! They looked quite nice.” Chatting casually, you barely noticed his confused expression. 

“Sorry, new tea bags?” 

“Yeah…the pink ones.” 

The room fell silent, if you hadn’t known better you might have tried to lighten the mood, but you knew it was best you silently returned to your desk, opposite his and did something productive. Despite his initial shock to find out his beloved tea had been replaced, he continued taking sip after another, almost buzzing for joy as the warm liquid slipped down his throat - he hadn’t tasted anything remotely close to this. The velvety feel was almost luxurious, bitter and subtly fruity, he just had to check out these teabags before he went home. 

Apprehensively, you looked from your desk to his, waiting for his next command, but for what felt like hours, he was silently working through his paper, even getting up once to make copies of his own. You only hoped you could give him tea like this again, you’d never had an easier day at work in your life. However, with an hour to go before the work day ended, the air in the office suddenly seemed to thicken, so stuffy you thought you could suffocate. At first you weren’t sure why, although it all made sense when Nanami finally called your name.

Hoarse voice croaking in his throat, you almost worried he sounded sick as he summoned you. “C-can you, bring me one of those tea bags…please?” Not only was your boss stuttering, but saying his please and thank yous? What had gotten into him. 

Nodding obediently, you scuttled to the kitchenette, grabbing what you needed and returning the side of his desk, placing the tiny package into his huge, calloused hand. Staring down at him and awaiting his next request, you can’t help when your eyes dropped down to his lap, which was turned to face you. 

Normally, you boss wasn’t one show any sign of vulnerability, or even humanity for that matter, but when you caught a glimpse of his throbbing bulge, his strange behaviour suddenly made sense. 

Rolling the pack back and forth between his fingers, Nanami brings a hand to his forehead, letting out an exasperated sigh. 

“What the fuck have you fed me?” Flipping the packet to face you, you read the bold red writing, almost too large to miss. If you hadn’t been so flustered, you would’ve pointed out that this was the first time he’d cursed in front of you. 

‘Love tea: aphrodesiac (one cup a day)’ 

You almost choke, struggling to stifle your laughter at the ridiculousness of this situation. 

“What are you laughing at?” Nanami barks, dropping his hands to his sides in defeat. Normally, his abrasive tone would’ve shut you up, but the way his cheeks flushed a delicate rose, and his eyes dejected to the floor in humiliation was honestly entertaining. 

“Where did you get these from, sir?” subtly giggling, you loose your balance slightly, leaning on the corner of his desk to keep you up right. 

“Me? This was clearly your doing. Trying to play some sick joke on me, right?” Now, more confused than ever, you can’t believe he was accusing you of this. Exaggerating your offence, you take a step back. 

“Even if I did, not much I can do to help you now.” Raising your hands either side of your head, you back away, attempting to return to your desk. 

Before you can he’s reaching for your waist, pulling you into his lap. “Where d’you think you’re going?” Firm grip holding you in place, you can’t help but squirm against him, pushing against his chest to get away. 

Realistically, this was almost a dream come true for you. As much as you found his audacity and self entitlement overbearing, there was something about the way he loosened his tie every time he relaxed in his chair, right opposite yours. Or the way he ran those veiny hands through his perfect blonde hair, biceps bulging through the shirt, fighting to contain his toned physique. God, if not for how morally wrong this power dynamic was, you would’ve begged him to fuck you long ago. 

“S-sir we can’t.” Whispering pathetically, you can’t help but feel disappointed at how small your voice sounded. If only you were strong enough to resist the urge, you were sure you could’ve broken free by now. But it was clear to the two of you that deep down, you needed this just as much as he did - shown by the way your legs subtly wrapped around his waist, pulling the two of you closer, arms draped delicately around his neck. 

“I make the rules right? I’m the boss…” Hot breath whispered against the shell of your ear, sending shivers down your spine, straight to your throbbing cunt. 

Nanami couldn’t help but notice how your skirt had ridden up your thighs, the delicate curves of your ass on display, just for him. “Wow…a thong for an office job, now I really believe you did this.” 

“If that’s what you want to believe sir…” Smirking subtly, you pull away, looking deep into his eyes, admiring his blown out pupils, clearly desperate to release his pent-up stress on you.  

“Well…I’d like to believe you want me as much as I want you…” Whispering so sensually, Nanami began to guide your hips, pushing your gushing folds against his clothed erection, whimpering as he throbbed beneath you. “And I think I’m right…”

“H-hurrry.” Almost begging, Nanami can’t help but chuckle. Considering he was the one being chemically simulated, you were certainly the one who seemed more desperate. 

“Okay baby…so impatient.” Tutting, he pushes you towards his thighs, skillfully removing his belt and undoing his pants all with one hand - honestly, you expected nothing less of him. What you weren’t expecting, was how thick his cock was, as it flopped out his boxers, it stood tall and proud, a brutal size compared to any you’d seen before. 

“Shut that pretty mouth, or I won’t know what to do with myself.” Just knowing he was as crazy for you as you for him made your walls flutter, anticipating how he’d ruin you, here in his office. “Think you can take me?”

If not for your daze, you would’ve retorted at his cockiness, but you couldn’t even deny how wet you were for him. Lifting you back atop him, you help him in moving your panties aside, arousal stringing from the fabric. “F-fuck, so pretty…” Sucking in a sharp breath, Nanami aligned his tip with your sloppy entrance, watching your expression intently as he split you open with his mean girth. 

“O-o-oh my god, N-nanami!” Gasping and clutching at his wrists, you watch where the two of you meet, a ring of arousal forming around his base as he finally bottoms out inside you. “ ‘S too much, too much.” Struggling to contain your moans, your thighs shake either side of his waist, feeling so full. 

“You can take it, darling, I’ll help you…” Trying to help you losen up, his lips crashed onto yours, slow and sensual as his tongue prodded at your bottom lip, demanding an entrance. Simultaneously, his hands reached for the buttons of your shirt, undoing the top few so that your breasts were freed, clad in mesmerising black lace. If not for the fact that you were at work, he would’ve torn all the clothes from your skin, leaving them a pile by his feet. Instead, he grazed your nipples gently through the thin fabric, grunting in satisfaction when your walls tightened around him, clearly loving the contact. 

“Think you’re ready now?” In a softer voice than usual, Nanami, rocks your hips slightly, placing soft kisses along your collarbones and down your cleavage. “Y-yes, sir…” The sensation was intoxicating, the position he held you at letting your clit rub against his pelvis. 

Amused, he raised you for your seat on his lap, an inch at a time, waiting for the ‘pop’ sound as his tip slipped out, before slamming you back down. Almost violently, he abused your messy cunt, pistoning into your tight walls and drowning in the sea of moans and whines that spewed from your lips as a result. He used you like he would a fleshlight, for now you were his personal fuck toy, and you’d be lying if you said the thought of that didn’t excite you. 

“Fffuckk Nanami…” Leaving crescent-shaped claw marks around his wrist, you struggled to contain yourself, trying your best not to scream the walls down, but with how precisely he was hitting that spongey sensitive spot you thought you wouldn’t be able to take much more. 

“T-this is what you wanted when you made that tea right?” Fucking harder into you, you could’ve sworn he was almost getting impossibly harder. “You wanted to ride my cock like this.. Isn’t that right?”

Too fucked out to respond, you simply moan louder, jaw forming little ‘o’s in the air. You wish you could protest having any involvement in the mix-up, but if anything you were grateful for the mistake. When you did find out who was responsible, you might just have to thank them. 

Soon enough the warmth in your stomach began to pool, tightening and twisting with every thrust. “N-nanami, ‘m so…close.” Hitched breaths almost prevented you from forming coherent sentences.

“Cum for me…that’s it, good girl.”

With every other thrust, Nanami’s grip on your waist tightened, holding you in a vice grip, until he felt his own orgasm begin to approach. The closer he got, the weaker his thrusts, sloppier and less targetted. “Fuck…so tight…” As your walls tightened around him when your orgasm washed over you, so did his, holding you down on his length, feeling the way the both of you shook, enjoying the best highs of your lives. 

Once he had shot you full of his cum, he lifted you up, watching the mix of his and your fluids pour out from your fluttering hole and into his lap. Too your shock, even as you had caught your breath, Nanami’s cock was still furiously hard, throbbing in anticipation. 

“Get on my desk.” Rushing to meet his command, you swept the papers to the side, making space for yourself when you finally caught sight of the neon sticky note. 

‘Enjoy, the tea should help you loosen up - Gojo ;)’ 

“Uhmm… I think you want to see this.” 

Toji 

Currently, you were being dragged to the nearest taxi stand by your boyfriend and you knew you were in trouble. 

For the first time in months, Toji had offered to take you out to dinner, something he rarely did. To spice things up, you thought you’d offer to share some whiskey before you left, something you knew he could never resist - little did he know it was laced with an aphrodisiac. The two of you often played devious pranks on each other, tonight you were getting back at him for making you walk around, stuffed with a vibrator while having a picnic with some friends. 

You couldn’t wait to watch him shift in his seat, getting more and more worked up without knowing why. Just the thought of his flushed skin, pursed lips and slightly unkempt hair as he tried to conceal his arousal made your skin crawl with anticipation. 

However, you never got the chance to unveil your evil plan, with your insightful significant other being able to figure it out way too soon. The moment you had sat at your table, he knew something was off. The way your thighs were squeezed together, the way your lips were parted and pupils blown. While it was almost way too normal for him to have a hard-on, you were usually far too self-conscious to be so blatant with your desire. He didn’t even need to ask you what had happened when he remembered you sharing the drink with him - suddenly, he remembered how much you hated whiskey. 

“You’re such a bitch, you know that? Can’t even have a nice dinner without you wanting to hop on my cock.” 

Giggly, due to your intoxication, you couldn’t even argue with him. He was so right and who could blame you? You always wondered how you were able to bag the hunk of muscle that was Toji. Everything about him was just so huge and so overwhelming, how could he expect you to resist? 

“Shut up, I swear to god.” Jaw clenched, he struggled to flag down a car, yanking you into the first one that stopped. 

The moment you were back at your apartment, Toji had you pinned to the wall, vice grip on your neck so brutal you thought you might pass out. It wasn’t until you were seeing stars that Toji loosened his grip. “Such a filthy whore…” 

Toji was always mean, but at that moment he was almost violent, but with the chemicals flowing through your brain, each touch of his calloused skin, kind or not, went straight to your throbbing cunt. Noticing this, also affected by the drink, he spun you around, pressing your face to the wall, and pulling your ass against him, slotting a knee between your plush thighs. “Was this what you wanted?” 

Nodding, shamelessly, you find yourself rubbing against his thigh seeking any form of contact. 

You can hear him scoff as he lands a sharp slap to your ass, even the fabric of your dress couldn’t protect you from the sting. “P-please…”

“Please what? Speak up slut.” Landing another spank, your back arches into the wall, shrinking away from his touch. 

“Fuck me…please.” 

Toji couldn’t deny how much he needed you too, if not for his anger, he would’ve taken you there and then, but he had to put you in your place, even a little bit. “Hmmm…not sure you deserve it, baby.” 

“Please, T-toji, I need you to fill me up, so b-bad.” At this point, you weren’t sure whether it was the whiskey or just you talking, but as his hands slipped up your dress, you could barely contain yourself. Teasingly, his fingers looped around the hips of your panties, pulling and pinging them back against your skin, leaving painful marks in their wake. “Please…please, To-ji!” Begging desperately, you reach back for his wrists, but fail when he grabs them, pinning them against your lower back.

Toji wasn’t even speaking, usually, he couldn’t help but run his filthy mouth, describing what nasty things he wanted to do to you, how he wanted to ruin you. But now, he was silent, only the occasional grunt slipping from his lips. This made you feel uneasy, unable to predict his next move like you usually could. 

The hand that wasn’t holding your wrists rubbed the flesh of your ass, soothing the pain from before. Slowly he brought his hand under the fabric of your dress, letting it ride up until only your upper half was covered. “You’re fucking soaked.” Toji hissed, looking at the pool of arousal staining your white panties. 

Clearly unable to resist his urges any longer, you listen as he undoes his zipper, slacks falling to the floor before you feel his tip prodding at your clothed entrance. Shuddering at the sensation, you try to pull your hands away, but Toji’s grip tightens. “I’m going to fuck you so deep…so hard, you’ll be so fucking sorry.” 

There he was…the Toji you knew. 

Smiling in relief, you fuck back onto his weeping tip, letting it rub against your sensitive clit. “P-please do…” 

“That’s my girl…begging to be destroyed.” Smirking, he finally pulls your panties down, just enough to be able to slip his dick in. Without any warning, he’s splitting you apart on his massive length. He knew far too well just how big he was, and just how small you were in comparison. Still, he couldn’t help but feel slightly giddy at the sight of your tight cunt struggling to stretch around him. “This is what you wanted…pretty fucking pussy.” 

Each word slipped straight past your ears and into your cunt, even as you tried to adjust to his size, your walls fluttered around him, sucking him sinfully in. If he hadn’t known better, he would’ve taken that as a sign to bottom out, but he knew you weren’t ready yet - as angry as he was, he didn’t want to hurt you. 

Once you’d adjusted, Toji pulled out, all the way, tip teasing your entrance before it pummeled back in, now in its entirety, kissing your cervix. “F-fuck, s’too m-much Toji…” Breathless, you felt a tight knot in your throat, struggling to voice just how full you felt. This alone had your eyes rolling back, each thrust feeling more euphoric. 

Toji’s grunts and curses tickled the shell of your ear as he leant into you, face beside yours, the warmth of his body against yours engulfing you. Despite his mean thrusts, bruising your the sensitive spot inside you over and over again, his presence was still soft and loving, making you want to melt into him.

Cock drunk, you found yourself focusing on how the network of veins that decorated his erection dragged against your wall, feeling him so disgracefully inside you, you couldn’t possibly think of anything else. 

Reaching for your hair, Toji pulls to get you to be face to face with him, cheek still pressed harshly against the wall. He almost cums there and then when he catches a glimpse of your fucked out face, eyes so large and glossed with tears he couldn’t resist the need to kiss you. “My…perfect…pretty…girl…” With each kiss, he muttered words of praise, the only sign of his rage being how he bullied your sopping cunt, so hard and fast that your fluids dripped onto his thighs, painting his abdomen with your arousal. 

“I-I’m clo-se.” Barely managing to catch your breath, you mutter against his lips, moans and whines being swallowed by his hungry kisses.

“Cum on my cock…show me how good I make you feel…” Grunting desperately now, you can feel how he throbbed against your walls, constricting and milking him for all he had. Toji’s mindless babbles and continued rough pace brought you closer, but it wasn’t until hand released your hand, reached down to massage your clit that you were tipped over the edge. 

Toji groans, watching how your thighs shook against him, soft moans turning into screams and cries as your orgasm washed over your gorgeous face, contorting in uncontrollable. If not for his hold on you, you were sure you would’ve dropped to the floor. His manipulation of your clit was unrelenting, thrusting into your glistening cunt just as fast, completely unwavering. 

“T-toji s-s-top!” Gasping and whimpering, the sting of overstimulation almost paralysed you, tensing beneath him with no where to escape to.

“Shut up bitch, I haven’t cum yet…” 

Geto

‘Which one, which one?’ Eyes darting from one sake bottle, to another almost identical one, you couldn’t remember which one Geto had bought for this specific dinner. 

As a celebration for the opening of Geto’s new company, he had invited a few employees over. The three of them sat in the room over, loudly laughing and chattering as you helplessly read the labels of all the drinks in your husband’s collection. “Alcoholic asshole…” You curse, taking a light sip of the one that most matched the one Geto had described, while sniffing another. 

“Who’s an alcoholic asshole?” Snapping your head to face the door, you eye the man of the hour, clad in the most enticing black slacks and waist coat, sleeves rolled up so tastefully you thought you might bite them. 

“How the fuck am I supposed to tell these apart?” You sigh, slumping in despair, surrounded by the intimidating bottles.

Chuckling, he kneels down beside you, instantly grabbing the one he’d requested without much more than a second glance. Leaning over you, the woody scent of his cologne plugs your nostrils, the ends of his ebony hair tickling your wrists. Was he always this sexy? 

Despite being married for almost three years now, you felt like you’d only just noticed how beautiful Geto was, sharp eyes so intently reading over the bottle, powerful looking grip making you squirm. “This is it…see?” Turning the label to face you, you can’t even bring yourself to read it, eyes still drawn to him, sat on his heels before you, looking so fuckable. 

What was wrong with you? 

This was so out of character you almost couldn’t believe these were your thoughts. 

Geto laughs at your seemingly embarrassed expression, assuming it was about the alcohol. “Don’t worry baby…I know it-” As he reached to grab the open bottle, still in your hand, he freezes. It doesn’t take him a second to realise what had happened. “A-are you...feeling okay?” Anxious smile painted on his face, he tries to pull the aphrodesiac sake away from you, fixing the lid before putting it away. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Feighning your innocence, you still didn’t quite understand what had shook him so much, not until you finally read the label of the bottle, as you watched him lean to put it away. “O-oh…” Suddenly your thoughts made sense, you had noticed how warm you core had suddenly felt, but attributed that to being tipsy rather than horny.

“Why do you even have this?” Shocked expression, you barely care to hear his excuse. How could he send you in here knowing this was a possibility.

Sheepishly, Geto scratches at the back of his neck, “I was saving it for our anniversary…” 

Speechless, you simply shake your head, you’d just have to put up with it, there were guests in the other room. “Come on…I don’t want them getting any weird ideas.” With a slight wobble, you leave the room, Geto following closely behind you.

As wrong as it was, Geto secretly found this rather amusing, he’d never tried anything of the sort and couldn’t wait to see the affect it had on you - even if that was at the dinner table. 

“What took so long?” Gojo, Geto’s business partner called the moment he watched the two of you walk in. 

“Someone couldn’t find the wine.” Nudging your shoulder, he places the bottle onto the table, along with the cups you had collected earlier. You can’t help but roll your eyes whilst you take your seat, directly opposite your long time friend Shoko. The four of you had been close since highschool - it was a dream for all of you to work together, so having this dinner was honestly overdue. So for this to be ruined by one cup of laced sake pissed you off to say the least. 

Even as you sat, completely untouched, you couldn’t ignore how violently your cunt throbbed. Trying to ease your pain, you pressed your thighs together, barely hearing the conversation around you as the sudden friction sent a buzz of pleasure up your spine. Only when a cup of sake was thrust into your vision, did you return to the dinner, “Are you alright my love?” 

Looking at Geto, you wanted nothing more to smack that stupid smile off his face, the mischievous glint in his eyes missed by everyone but you. “Yeah, sorry…” Reaching for the cup, your fingers graze his. An otherwise normal interaction was anything but normal to you. Just the contact made the heat between your thighs intensify, arousal practically seeping through your skin. 

Geto pursed his lips, stifling laughter as he turns back to the others at the table, faux ignorance plastered ontop of his deceitful expression. By his face, you wouldn’t have been able to predict his intentions, however, when his hands slipped onto your knee, you almost couldn’t contain yourself. Still, Geto held an unbothered exterior, conversing as if it were nothing, but to you it was everything - thoughts consumed with him. Obsessed with his scent, his pretty face, those long fingers tracing your inner thigh and that fucking suit.

“Wan’t to come with me while I smoke?” Suddenly, Shoko’s hand is rubbing on yours, eyebrows thread together in concern. You were sure to her your arousal could’ve been mistaken for sickness or upset. As much as it was probably the right idea to get some fresh (Geto-free) air, your messy cunt spoke for you.

“No thats alright, don’t worry.” Flashing a comforting smile, she nods, pulling away from the table and heading outside. 

Now it was the three of you, Gojo, if anyone, was overly alert, and you couldn’t help but worry that he would notice. The soft circles Geto traced against your skin burned rings of fire in their place, you could barely stay up right, head dizzy with desire. 

“What about you? This company was your idea anyways.” Gojo’s voice startled you, making you realise just how little you’d been paying attention. 

“Sorry, what are we talking about?” Sheepishly you look between the two of them, hoping they’d catch you up. 

“Just talking about how sereal it all is, we planned this shit since we were 16! I mean…” You were doing so well, listening intently to every word that left Gojo’s mouth. Until, your attention was drawn away when Geto’s fingers slipped between your thighs, pushing your panties aside and running a slow finger between your folds, collecting your arousal.

“I-I’m so proud of us…honestly never thought we’d finally get to this point.” Despite keeping your answer short and sweet, you can’t help the shiver that interrupts you, unable to ignore the way his finger so casually grazed your clit. 

Luckily, Shoko had returned, drawing the attention from you and back to her - you could almost cry you were so grateful. Finally, Geto bothered to look at you, head resting in his hand as he watched you, fighting your instinct to squirm under his touch. Luckily, the other two were so preoccupied that they didn’t notice the way you twitched, or Geto’s sly smirk. 

If not for your guests, you knew you would’ve lept on your husband ages ago, having to wait only made your desire grow. 

‘I’m- going-to-make-you-cum’ Geto mouthed, so clearly it couldn’t have been mistaken for anything else. 

Before you could even retort, he’d turned away from you again. As he did, his finger finally settled on your clit, rubbing perfect circles on the sensitive bud. Your hands clenched into fists, grasping at the table cloth as Geto attempted to elicit a moan from you. No way could you let that happen, you wouldn’t dare embarrass yourself infornt of your friends and your husband knew that. 

Still, his pace increased, before he replaced his finger with his thumb, instead pushing the digit into your fluttering walls. If not for the loud chatter, you were sure they would hear how wet you were. Over and over he fucked into you, so hard and fast it was a shock that no one had noticed, or how he was able to remain so calm and controlled. Desperate to let out a moan, you turned your head to the side, covering your contorted expression.

Only when the tension in your stomach grew unbearable did you reach to grab his wrist, squeezing it to try and get him to stop. You knew if he didn’t you were about to reach your orgasm, right infront of your husband and two closest friend. But, to no avail it was to late, and your high washed over you with such intensity you barely managed to remain silent, thighs squeezing shut so intensely that Geto couldn’t move even if he wanted to. Caught of guard, a little whine slips out, forcing you to cover it up with a fake coughing fit. 

“Awe are you feeling unwell?” Cooin, Geto finally turns to look at you once more.”Maybe we should call it a day, get some rest?” Looking at the guests at the table, the nodded in agreement.

“She has been…off.” Shoko sighed,  a soft smile on her lips as she got up from her seat.

As they did, Geto leaned into your ear, whispering seductively about his plans for you tonight.

“I won’t stop until you’re begging me.”

[kingkat12]

Would you ever write some mean!dom!Roman? Maybe where the reader uses a safe word and his whole demeanour softens 🥹 would be so cute!

mean dom Roman... as in the plain old Roman we all know and love? ahahah hell to the YES??? thank u so much for ur request, I loved writing this sm!! hope u like it hihi

safe word (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, piv sex, quite rough sex (gets better dw), foul language, humiliation kink ish?, cum-play, he's so mean oof

summary: sex with Roman can be pure heaven, but it can sometimes feel like he wants to put you through hell... has hell ever felt so good?

word count: 2,276

"I-- I can't keep going," I held Roman close to me, letting out a small yelp against his neck as my hips moved away from his, aching and overstimulated. 

Something was a little different about him today-- Roman usually gave me time to adjust to his length before completely ravaging me like this, but tonight was different. I had an inkling that it turned him on to hear me whimper beneath him like this, that he couldn't help but enjoy the way my walls fluttered around him in a mix of exhaustion and desperation. 

"Aw," Roman breathed, his hand in my hair tightening as he spoke against my ear; "Too bad. Don't care."

I let out a small cry, my nails digging into his broad back. I knew I had a habit of getting overstimulated rather quickly, but I swore that something was different, I was sure of it-- was it maybe the fact that we had a little fight this morning? Did Roman need to take his frustration out on me like this? There wasn't any time to think about it, but there was one thing I could be sure of; and that was that Roman loved pushing me beyond the point of tears, and loved the way my eyes glossed over as they met his, looking like a complete and utter mess.

I spotted his growing smirk before he leaned down to kiss my neck, and I couldn't help but whimper at the force he was slamming his hips into mine. My broken noises didn't get any softer when my warmth swallowed him completely, feeling his cock go deep to the hilt. "Rome--" I let my head roll back down against my pillow, my legs wrapping around him as he continued his harsh thrusts. I knew he was being too rough with me, but the feeling of being pounded like this nearly turned me mute.

And weirdly enough, a part of me enjoyed it. Knowing that Roman had this power over me, the ability to make me feel nothing but engulfed by him, somehow made the pain subside into a darker pleasure than I was used to. Something about it felt... satisfactory.

Roman gripped my waist, nipping at my jaw as he let out a laboured grunt. I squeezed my eyes shut, crying out at the multiple sensations coursing through my veins as he murmured pure filth against my skin. 

"Act like a brat and I'll treat you like a brat," Roman purred, biting down on my earlobe-- something told me he was enjoying himself a little extra tonight. 

"Am not," was all I managed to say, whimpering as he continuously drove himself deep into me. 

This was seemingly not the right thing to say-- Roman wasted no time roughly grabbing my cheeks in one hand, my lips parting as I stared up at him with eyes full of tears. "I'm sorry, what was that?" he asked, an apparent sadistic smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth.

I knew I would be in big trouble if I didn't stop going against him. "Sorry," My legs gave in to a quiver, wrapping around him even tighter as he let go of my cheeks. "Rome, please--" I didn't have time to finish my plea, letting out a loud whimper as he brought his hand down to press his palm against my lower abdomen, feeling himself rut into me. Roman let out a low, sinister laugh, clearly in awe at the sensation; I wanted nothing more than to hit him. But still, like a slave to the pleasure, I dug my nails further into his back instead, earning a rather lewd moan from him which usually was a rarity.

Roman's arms wrapped around my waist, moving me against him; despite how harsh he was being with me, I could at least find comfort in the closeness. My hard nipples brushed up against his chest, his lips pressing heated kisses against my body and mouth. Oh, the way he was holding me with complete and utter need-- if he hadn't been so harsh, I would've been floating around on cloud nine. "Please, Rome-- I really can't," 

With a grunt, Roman pulled his cock out only till the tip was left. I let out a sigh of relief; I had hope that he would maybe pull out, maybe take it easy on me, pity me, but I should've known better. It didn't take long before Roman drove himself back into me, my walls clenching around him as I cried out, hearing him let out a satisfied moan against my ear which had me shivering.  "What was that?" he hummed, his grip around my waist tightening, almost as a warning. An ominous laugh escaped him, the green of his eyes practically engulfing me as he spoke; "Oh, baby, look at you... Are you crying? You asked for it, you know that, right?"

I could only whimper, a wave of oddly satisfactory defeat washing over me. Something about the way he was taunting me was making my stomach flutter. It felt as though I was completely submerged in everything Roman--  the dizzying scent of his cologne that I inhaled through my nose, his lips against my mouth and throat every so often, and his tongue against mine. It eventually became hard to breathe, and my eyes glossed over once more as Roman's thrusts grew rougher, taking more liberties than he would usually dare to. 

"Try that again," he said, urging me on. It was obvious that Roman knew what I was trying to say, but he was being particularly mean today.

"I can't--" My words came out along with another cry, gripping onto him the same way he was gripping onto me. It felt as though today's session served as a reminder more than anything else; that I was his, no matter what, and that he would do as he pleased with me. Roman's rough thrusts grounded me, wordlessly telling me I belonged to him, and it made me feel as though he was diminishing my self-worth with every pump of his cock. It was starting to feel too rough, too raw; "Shit, wait, Rome--" I barely managed to get anything out without a stutter, burying my face against the bare skin of his broad shoulders.

Roman let out a laugh; "Aw, is someone getting sore?" 

I could only whimper as he dug himself into me repeatedly, my whole body aching, my hips squirming away from him again-- Roman responded by grabbing me rather harshly, holding me down. I knew he wasn't going to let me go without a proper fight, without me saying the word, and that made more tears pool in my eyes.

"A-Aah--" My hands flew down to grab the ones he had on my waist, arching my back against the bed as my body started to reject his thrusts. I felt myself squirm, groaning in a mix of pleasure and pain-- I knew that I had to go for my last resort, despite never having had use for it before. "Red!" I cried out, my nails digging into his skin, a sob building in my chest.

In an instant, Roman froze up, his grip around my body lifting within a second. He propped himself up on his elbows as his widening eyes met mine-- it seemed he had only now registered what he was truly doing to me. "Sorry," he tried, reaching for my face with wary movements, shifting on the bed. "Too much?"

Sniffling, a single tear rolled down my face as I nodded, leaving behind a wet spot on my pillow.

"Fuck, look at you," Roman whispered, gently grabbing at my jaw, hoping to ground me. "Your heart is beating so fast... Should I pull out?"

I let out a shaky breath, holding back any other tears. I had never actually had to use the safeword before, and this whole experience was beyond dizzying. How could Roman go from being someone so mean, callous, rough, and then suddenly go back to normal?

"Hey, talk to me," Roman's thumb stroked my cheek, another attempt at bringing me back. "What can I do for you?" 

Amid my daze, I was made aware of his cock still being inside me when it jerked upwards, throbbing involuntarily against my fluttering walls. Roman hissed, clearly conflicted between the feeling of pleasure and embarrassment; "Shit, sorry... It has a life of its own," 

Something about that made me giggle through my tears, a breathy laugh building in my chest. Seeing Roman like this, clearly out of his rough and mean state, made me ease up. The feeling of arousal was still coursing through my veins, burning in the tips of my fingers, aching between my legs-- I wasn't quite ready to stop. "If you promise to be gentle... I'd like to continue,"

With a relieved sigh, Roman leaned forward to press a sweet kiss against my forehead. "Of course," he whispered, nudging his nose against mine, his breath hot against my lips. "Let me make it up to you, hm?"

"Sounds good," I breathed, meeting his lips in a soft and open kiss, coming together like missing pieces of a puzzle, completely different from the way we had been kissing a minute ago. This felt so much better-- we were connected as one.

Roman pulled out of me, making sure to be careful. He grabbed my tear-stained pillow, placing it beneath my hips as he sat himself up on his knees. "I'll go easy on you, kid," he murmured, his thumb moving down to my clit, gathering my slick so that he could rub small, tight circles around it. "Gonna make you feel real good, okay?"

I let out a soft moan, my chest fluttering with warmth at his gentle touches. My eyes rounded out, meeting his with a newfound satisfaction and love. 

Roman gripped himself with his free hand, rubbing his tip against my aching sex, a grunt slipping past his kiss-swollen lips as he slid back into me, the wet sound of our reunion making goosebumps appear along my skin. This time, he made sure not to go all the way into me, finally giving me time to adjust to his length. 

Roman's thumb was still circling my clit with a toe-curling pressure as he found a nice, steady rhythm to keep at. From this position, I could watch as his usually styled hair fell in front of his green eyes, kissing his forehead as his lips parted in pleasure-- it was impossible to take my eyes off of him. 

Roman's gaze was glued to the image before him, letting out a shaky groan as his fingers went up and down my stomach, taking in the view. During moments like these, I really felt like the most beautiful creature on earth; what other explanation could there be for how he was looking at me right now? 

It didn't take long before I started to feel close-- we had been going on for so long that the softness of his demeanour had me closer to my climax much quicker than usual. Luckily, Roman knew me well enough to see the signs, recognizing the way my back arched, the way my hands reached for his. He intertwined our fingers with his free hand; "I have half the mind to keep you on the edge," he purred, a smirk reappearing on his lips.

I let out a broken whimper; "Please,"

"Please what?"

"Be nice," 

Roman chuckled, nodding to himself as he retreated his teases. He let go of my fingers to grab my hips, letting out a groan as my walls tightened around him; "Shit-- Okay, okay,"

Oh, I was so crazy about him. So, so in awe of Roman and everything that followed. Love-drunk words slipped past his lips as his thrusts pressed up against that special spot inside me, simultaneously keeping the tight pressure around my swollen clit, making me mewl out in desperation; "Close, fuck!--"

Roman let out a soft laugh as my fingers gripped his arm, digging into his skin as I clamped around him, wordlessly begging for my release. My heart pounded in my ears as he gave a few final thrusts, fucking me right into my orgasm; I writhed beneath him, a moaning mess, feeling satiated and complete. I bucked up against his hand, the post-coital overstimulation hitting me like a hard wave, letting out a few broken whimpers and silent pleas. 

It didn't take a lot of begging for Roman's cock to twitch with his orgasm, and he pulled out with haste, letting out a string of soft grunts as ropes of cum decorated my stomach. 

As our heavy breathing and panting filled the room, I reached out for Roman, who in turn lied down next to me, pressing a kiss against my cheek. I let out a relieved giggle, turning to connect our lips in a lazy, sweet kiss that had my whole body fluttering with warmth. Watching as Roman closed his eyes, sighing in exhaustion, my attention turned to the mess he had made on my stomach. 

My hand dipped down into the pool of cum forming on my lower abdomen, coaxing my finger with a sly smirk; I brought it up to his lips, leaving a streak of the slick on his lip.

Normally, Roman would wipe it off with a grimace and eventually laugh it off. 

However, today was different-- I had known it from the start. Roman leaned forward with a cheeky smirk, lazily connecting our lips, the taste of his cum lingering on my tongue throughout the remainder of the night.

I was sure he'd never admit to finding that hot, but I knew it. I was more sure of that than anything else.

[avensthetic]

𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐇, 𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇

︴INFO : aventurine x reader, fluff, angst if you squint, churin is implied to do shady stuff for a living, the usage of doll and princess as an endearment

︴SYNOPSIS : in which aventurine is your friendly neighborhood spiderman, and your classmate...

aventurine hadn't just tangled with the interastral peace corporation tonight—he'd been dragged through the dirt by them. or at least, it felt that way. every inch of his body throbbed in testament to their relentless fighting. still, he held on to a smirk, as cocky as ever, as he stumbled towards his dingy apartment. 

then he crashed. not the graceful dive through his own window that he'd initially intended, but a full-body slam through a neighboring one. glass shattered, raining down like startled confetti and adding more cuts to his already battered body—not fun. 

"well, well, what do we have here?" he forced a grin, ignoring the way his muscles screamed. instead, his eyes landed on you, his startled classmate, now staring wide-eyed at the city's friendly neighborhood spiderman hanging upside-down from your ceiling. 

"don't even think about—" words caught in his throat. this was bad. he guarded his identity with more fervor than some guarded state secrets. carelessness like this could spell disaster. 

"i wouldn't dream of it!" you held your hands up, a mix of alarm warring on your face as he dripped blood on your clean bedroom floor. "um, are you okay though? because that looked incredibly unpleasant. and get off my ceiling please."

"just peachy, sweetheart." his usual flippancy was edged with a strain he hoped you wouldn't notice. "don't need your pity."

the mask of the carefree hero was a second skin, but beneath it, exhaustion threatened to drown him. you saw something, a flicker of pain in his eyes and the way his normally playful grin you’ve grown used to see in class had tightened. 

"hey, how about we get you out of those tights and take a look at those bruises?" your voice was soft, laced with a concern that made his chest tighten for reasons beyond the fight. 

before his usual defenses could kick in, he found himself sitting on your couch, ridiculously domestic for the guy who was known as a vigilante. the first-aid kit you brought seemed more like a child's tea party set compared to the injuries he sported, deisgned only for small cuts and burns. but your touch... it was careful, surprisingly tender for someone who, by all rights, should be freaking out right now. and you made work with what little first aid kit you have on hand, not for banged-up heroes.

"you get yourself into a lot of trouble, don't you?" your fingers tracing the edge of a nasty cut on his arm were light and ticklish, preventing him from succumbing to his body’s injuries.

"keeps life interesting," he deflected, the ever-present grin faltering slightly. the truth was far uglier –  the shady deals to keep his family afloat, the constant fear of exposure, the ache of loneliness that even saving the day couldn't quite erase.

that night became the start of something. your apartment became a sanctuary for aventurine after every fight. you, with your warm smiles and soft voice, lulled him into unfamiliar safety. his visits were stolen moments of peace amidst the chaos that is his life. you mended wounds, offered quiet company, and never pried too deeply into the secrets lurking behind his laughter.

then came your birthday. classmates showered you with attention, with gifts overflowing your desk. aventurine waltzed in late and messed up as usual, yet he was always the very picture of nonchalance with a hint of mischief in his grin. “morning, doll,” was all he said before he slumped to his seat.

 a pang of something like disappointment needled at you. you thought…well, you weren't even sure what you expected. a greeting. that was all you wanted, but aventurine merely went on with his day, teasing you like usual. he wasn’t obligated to, of course. but his greeting was the only thing that would’ve mattered and make your day.

in a blink of an eye, night came.

you looked at the clock…midnight is creeping in, and no text or even a call from aventurine. you let out one last disappointed sigh before ultimately settling on the bed in your pajamas. then, your notifications blared, with it came a familiar tap at your window. "ready for a birthday adventure, princess?" his voice held a teasing lilt that sent a familiar shiver down your spine.

before you could reply, you were wrapped in his arms, the world tilting as he leapt skyward. wind whistled, laughter bubbled in your throat—he did remember! and for once, the city lights felt magical rather than lonesome. he landed atop a skyscraper with practiced ease, a dazzling grin still fixed on his face.

"happy birthday, doll." a flick of his wrist and the night sky erupted in color. fireworks painted fleeting constellations, just for you. spectacular, and yet… intimate.

"this is…" words seemed to vanish in the glittering night. 

"don't get too mushy on me, yeah?" he gave a cocky smirk, the teasing mask back in place, but you saw the faint flush to his cheeks, akin to embarrassment perhaps. aventurine, the boy who traded in bravado, who hid his vulnerability with extravagant gestures, had given you the most precious gift: a glimpse of kakavasha that aventurine so heavily guarded.

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 !

[thehypnone]

Do Not Go Away

WC: 13k

Relationship: Rain/Dewdrop, Rain/Everyone, not rel. focused

Tags: Disability, Chronic Illness, EDS, POTS, Lots of Crying, Angst with a Happy Ending, Passing Out, Depressive Episode, Abandonment Issues, Self-Hatred, Marriage Proposal, Unreliable Narrator, Mild Suicidal Thoughts, Panic Attacks

"You finally did it, you pushed us all away.  Congratulations, Rain. You are free." Or how Rain's body finally gives up and he gives up with it.

Notes: This is me expanding on this post in a heartbreaking way. Also making my worst fears come true for Rain, sorry not sorry, but at least at the end of the day he's not alone, right? While it's not my best work it's the most important and personal to me, I hope you'll like it. It's multi chaptered on ao3 so it's easier to grab a hold of an read bit by bit.

Read under the cut or on AO3.

Now with art from Nono and Felix

Nobody really knows what went wrong with Rain’s summoning. Nobody really knows if it  all originated from it, anyway. At least he’s not the only one, Zephyr is still there. What a thing to bond over, they have.

Rain was never doing good. Never good, just decent. He was tired all the time. And in pain.

“It is what it is,” he always said, shrugging. “It’s what comes with a faulty vessel.”

He was used to it already. Or was he?

He could deal with it, mostly. Sometimes it was better, sometimes it was worse, but in general he was okay. He had his pack, he had his music. He was okay.

Until he was not.

Until all he could do was lay and stare at the ceiling, without any power to move, with a lump in his throat, because everything hurt, the world was spinning and he was too exhausted to even cry. His phone was thrown somewhere next to him or on the bed, battery either already out or just right about to be. He could have grabbed it and sent a text—would his fingers manage? Hell, he could have even screamed—to someone, anyone, ask for…

For what, exactly?

Help? Help in what? There’s no helping him, is there? He’s broken and that’s it.

That is why he would just lay there, unable to move, unable to cry, unable to fall asleep, listening to his own shallow breathing and racing heart and feeling all the pain coursing through his damaged body.

Until it would be decent again.

Until the day when the decent would not come back.

This day was near, and Rain knew it.

The tour has never seemed so long. Maybe it never was, but Rain wasn’t bothered enough to actually check the dates and do the math. It’s not like it would change anything, would it?

He was a ghost. He was just there, barely present, just doing what he absolutely had to, and that was it. He was in pain, and despite the exhaustion he saw what it was doing to his packmates. They all had their own aches and they were equally tired, he hated that he was causing them distress just by… by existing.

Rain tried to convince himself it wasn’t his fault, he was summoned that way and most of the time he was careful as to not make it all worse. He knew his limits and usually did not go beyond them. Usually.

He hated that he was like that, broken, whether it was his fault or not. What did he do to deserve it? Most importantly, what did his packmates do to deserve to be burdened by his existence? What did Papa do?

The water ghoul tried his best to not be bigger of a bother than he already was. Swiss and Dewdrop usually called him a dumbass for that, told him that he was a bother only when sulking around with a frown on his pretty face. He always smiled at that, but when they looked away that frown always returned. No matter how much he appreciated the jokes, they weren’t fixing anything.

That was back home, in the Abbey.

Now, well into another tour, the rest didn’t even try the jokes. If they saw Rain needed them, they’d just quietly slip their hands into his and pull him away onto a couch or a bunk and hold him, sometimes letting him just cry it out. He used to feel better after that, just being with them, whoever it was. It was hard to believe that they still loved him, despite all, but some part of Rain’s brain knew it was the truth. It was what kept him alive.

He wanted to give them something in return, but he simply couldn’t. There was nothing but his body, the same one that caused all the problems in the first place. He didn’t have the energy for sex, not even the softest moments with one of his mates, not even if they’d do all the work. He knew they’d do anything for him, but he also knew he’d pass out the moment any of his blood went to his cock. The exhaustion and pain took away any potential need he might feel, anyway.

So Rain just was.

The only time he was something more, not just surviving but living, was when his aching fingers touched the sleek, shiny body of one of his basses. When his arms shook under its weight when he slung it over his shoulder. When he ran a finger over the thick strings. When he felt note after note vibrate through him.

It was what kept him sane.

He kept wondering for how much longer.

It was bad.

Three shows of the tour left. Rain didn’t think he’d make it. He was always doubtful, but this time it was the worst he’s ever been. He saw everyone around was worried, he wasn’t blind, even though they tried so very hard to not be obvious. They knew he wouldn’t listen or accept help, anyway.

He just had to focus, sleep as much as he could, eat well, stay hydrated, take painkillers and wear his braces and he’d be fine. He was a ghoul, for Satan’s sake, a literal demon, he wasn’t going to just– just fail. He was not failing anyone, even himself.

Rain didn’t help with unloading the gear or soundcheck this time. Not on purpose, he always helped, he was just asleep the whole day and no one woke him up. They did so just in time to eat something and get in costume for the show. The water ghoul would love to have helped, despite all, but his body was certainly grateful for just that little less work.

The show started out as usual, without much struggle, probably due to adrenaline, which—no matter how many times someone would play in front of thousands—never left. Rain started zoning out and trusting his muscle memory by the third song. Which one even was it?

He remembers tripping—nothing new—and maybe he even fell over once. Or twice?

Someone had to gently push the water ghoul in the general direction of his tech when the show ended and he didn’t notice. The bass was taken away from him and he was dragged around some more. He was so dizzy, he couldn’t really see, he realized then.

Rain couldn’t bend down for the bows, he’d pass right out. His back also wouldn’t like it much. He felt Cirrus and Papa gripping his hands for dear life but he couldn’t focus enough to squeeze them in return. He didn’t know if it was him swaying or if the stage was moving. Probably the former, he couldn’t see much and it wasn’t because of the mask. Maybe he was shaking, too? Most likely.

He nearly cried out when Papa and Cirrus let go of his hands. He knew he had to move, he couldn't just stay there standing in the middle of the stage like a deer caught in the headlights.

Rain tried, he directed all and any energy towards his legs and willed them to just work. He managed to take two impressively wobbly steps before someone—Swiss, his brain provided—wrapped an arm around his waist and took the majority of the water ghoul’s weight onto himself.

“I’ve got you,” Swiss whispered, and Rain tried his best to cling to his body as tightly as he clung to those words. He didn’t really register their way to the backstage area, having to focus on not collapsing. At least not yet. He nearly forgot about his back and hip and knee and ankle and–

“Can you stay here for a second? Just a second, I promise,” the multi ghoul asked him and he, somehow, nodded and Swiss let go of him before sprinting away, yelling something to someone. Rain could feel his eyes stinging and cold tears trailing down his cheeks and soaking into the balaclava. He tried to keep on his feet, he really did, Swiss promised he’d be back in a second, he could make it, but– he didn’t.

The water ghoul ran out of breath. He thought he saw Swiss running back in his direction but he couldn’t be sure, it was getting darker and darker all around. Was someone messing with the lights?

“Rain, shit– Phantom! Mountain! Move your asses someone!” Rain thought Swiss was yelling, but he couldn’t be, it was too quiet, muffled. When did he… when did he end up on the floor? Was Swiss holding him? His back hurt a lot now, legs too.

“I’ve got you, princess,” the multi ghoul muttered. Rain opened his mouth to reply, to tell him I know you do, but nothing came out.

He knew that was it, that was The Fail.

His eyes closed, and he floated away.

Rain was done.

Dewdrop got to them first, of course. He must’ve felt something was very wrong with Rain through their bond. “What the fuck happened!?”

“He just– he fucking passed out, I’ve no idea!” Swiss was panicking. Truly a rare thing for him but the way Rain looked, the way he felt, the way he lay there limp in his arms terrified the multi ghoul. Rain has had his fair share of fainting spells and multitude of accidents, but this was different, and both Swiss and Dewdrop could see it.

“Give him to me,” the fire ghoul growled, throwing himself onto his knees, but the anger in his voice was not directed at Swiss. He carefully moved Rain so the other could hold him. He knew Dewdrop needed it to not freak out himself. “Help me with the mask.”

The multi ghoul obliged, taking it off with shaky hands, as well as the balaclava. His lips curved in a frown when he saw how pale Rain’s face was, how sunken his cheeks were.

“Get Phantom,” Dewdrop ordered. “Or find a medic or something, I don’t know, just– just get help.”

Swiss turned on his heel, ready to bolt and get someone. As he did he could hear Dewdrop mumbling to himself, voice shaking, and the multi ghoul’s heart squeezed painfully. “I don’t– I don’t know what to do, Angelfish, fuck…”

Rain came back to reality slowly. First he registered the warmth all around him, but not the uncomfortable, overheating warmth. No, it was cozy and safe and it felt like–

“Dew?” he mumbled, trying to look around but his sight was, somehow, still not back fully. The warmth tightened around him—arms—and he felt and heard a purr from behind him.

“I’m here,” Dewdrop said, and indeed he was, laying with Rain between his legs, his back to the fire ghoul’s chest. Rain hummed and tried to twist so he could nuzzle into his partner, but the slight movement immediately caused a wave of pain to wash over his lower body and a whine to leave his lips. “Don’t move, shhh.”

“Wh– what happened?” the water ghoul asked quietly and tried not to wince as Dewdrop was the one to move and adjust so Rain could see him. 

“Well,” he sighed, “you were exhausted and sore well before tonight’s show. Then you fell over during the ritual. Twice. I guess that’s what made your legs and back so bad. At the end you passed out. For a few hours, it’s three in the morning now.”

“Fuck,” was all Rain could manage to choke out. Tears began gathering in his eyes, and Dewdrop, still carefully, scooted closer so the other could bury his face in his chest and hold onto him. “I– I’m sorry, we have two shows left, but I– I can’t, I hate it, I’m s– sorry.”

“Shhh, don’t apologize, don’t you dare,” Dewdrop cut him off and cupped the back of his head, bringing him closer.

“B– but the tour, Papa–”

“Papa is not angry. No one is,” the fire ghoul didn’t and wouldn’t let him babble about something everyone but Rain found absolute bullshit. “If anything, we’re all disappointed you haven’t said anything about how bad it was.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think–”

“We’re not disappointed that you don’t trust us enough, I know that’s not the case. We hate to see you in pain, that’s it.

“I’m so–”

“Stop,” Dewdrop spat, but there was no venom in it. Quite the opposite, his voice nearly cracked and Rain thought he felt his heart cracking with it. He should’ve told them, asked for help. Now he made his lover upset and he was just a fuck up, he should–

“Stop,” the fire ghoul repeated. Rain took a deep breath, trying so hard to not burst into tears like a child. It was his own fault, he had no right to complain or feel bad about it.

He cleared his throat and whispered, “Where even are we?”

“In the girls’ nest,” Dewdrop told him. “Back of the bus.”

“What about them?”

“You need it more now.” He shrugged and another wave of guilt washed over Rain. The ghoulettes always slept together and the bunks didn’t allow that, so they had the nest. He’s taken it away from them. “They offered, they don't mind.”

“What about the rituals?”

“Playback. We’ve got recordings for everything, you know that.” He did know it, but he also knew it was nothing like live playing. The fans would be disappointed, he knew they loved each and every one of them. He remembers what happened when Sunshine and Aether didn’t show up when everyone had expected them, when everyone was excited to see them among the rest. Now, after a few years without any changes, the fans expected all of them and Rain knew he might be a favorite for many of them. He’d disappoint thousands.

“Stop thinking, Angelfish,” Dewdrop said. His voice was stern but not angry. If anything, it had a wet tone to it, as if the fire ghoul was on the verge of tears, too.

It took a few moments of silence, interrupted only by Rain’s sniffles, Dewdrop’s purr and the bus’ rumble, for the water ghoul to compose himself a bit and speak again, “Everything hurts.”

“Oh… I know, love.” Dewdrop was sure he could hear his own heart breaking. “I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t– I can’t even say what’s messed up, ‘cause it feels like… everything.”

“As far as I'm aware, after Phantom’s rough evaluation when you were passed out on the green room’s floor,” the fire ghoul sighed, “one of your hips is dislocated, I think one knee, too, and possibly an ankle, plus one wrist from you falling on it. You also most likely slipped a disc and something’s up with your ribs.”

“Oh.”

“Maybe it feel like everything because–”

“It is everything,” Rain sobbed. “I’m fucking done, completely broken, D– Dew, I– I can’t…”

“Shhh, Rain, breathe,” Dewdrop’s voice was shaking, for once he sounded out of place and Rain hated himself so much for it. He tried to do as he said, but it was so hard, everything hurt and he was suffocating under an avalanche of thoughts that he couldn’t stop. “Breathe, Angelfish, breathe with me.”

“D– Dew, I’m– I’m scared,” he cried out and he could feel Dewdrop’s own tears dripping down onto his face before the last word even left his mouth.

The last two shows of the tour Rain spent on the bus sleeping. He could’ve been backstage, but he didn’t think he’d be able to bear listening to everything and not… not being there. Alone on the bus he could’ve at least cried his eyes out in peace, until he’d gotten a headache so intense from it he’d passed out. Two days in a row. 

Then it ended, officially, and the next two days were a blur of traveling by bus, by plane and then by bus again, until the noise of wheels over a smooth asphalt turned into a crunch of them over the Abbey’s gravel. Rain pretended he was asleep, let Swiss believe he was waking him up when they got back home and let himself be carried away to his room. They carried him around a lot lately, most of it against his will. He refused to use crutches, so they started to just hoist him up like a child, not caring about his protests. He didn’t have the strength to physically fight it, so he ended up just limply hanging off of whoever pulled the shortest straw.

Now, the water ghoul was carried out to his room, where he spent the night alone, cold, in pain and miserable. He hasn't slept alone in ages.

Rain didn’t know what time it was when he woke up, but it wasn’t particularly important anyway. It’s not like he had any plans and that made him angry.

He found himself not… scared, or sad, anymore. No, he felt so much rage, he felt like he was burning with it. He hated himself, he hated the world, the Clergy, Lucifer, his pack, Dewdrop. For what?

How could he?

The realization of how awful he was hit him like a freight train and bile rose in his throat. Rain closed his eyes again and hoped the sleep would return to him, so that he didn’t have to face the reality he’s found himself in just yet.

When he was roused from sleep again it was by a warm hand on his bare shoulder, making him gasp softly. “Rainy?”

“Mhm… Droplet? W’time is it?”

“Seven. In the evening,” Dewdrop mumbled, as if he wasn’t too proud of Rain’s achievement in sleeping for around twenty hours. Maybe it would be an achievement if he wouldn't be a water ghoul who can turn off his need to piss for when he sleeps. “Aren’t you hungry? Or dehydrated?”

“No,” Rain told him, simply, and yawned. He was annoyed.

“Still tired?”

“Mhm,” he hummed and snuggled further into his—somehow still cold—sheets. His eyes fluttered close and Rain hoped it would be a message clear enough for Dewdrop to leave him, but the fire ghoul seemed to have different plans. Rain heard him sigh and then felt the mattress next to him dip. He couldn’t have really prepared for the warm body suddenly glued to his side.

“What’r you doin’?” he barely held a growl back when Dewdrop started cuddling in even closer under his arm. Why did Rain feel like… like this? Dewdrop didn’t do anything wrong. Quite the opposite, he was doing his best to help, he didn’t deserve even a playful snarl to be thrown in his direction. If anything, it was Dewdrop who had the right to be bitter, aggressive and angry, not Rain. The fire ghoul went through things so much worse and he didn't act like a royal asshole about it. Not anymore, not towards his packmates. 

And Rain? He was bitching around for nothing.

Where did that sudden rage come from? He felt like he despised Dewdrop but… no– no, he loved him. When did he manage to lose that sense of himself?

“Sleeping,” the fire ghoul answered, and Rain didn’t dare open his mouth again, lest he hurt his lover worse than he already did, not even realizing it. He swallowed it down and this time his eyes had to be forced to close, his body had to be forced to relax and sleep had to be begged to take him. Rain didn’t sleep well that night.

In the morning he was the first to wake up, too. He spent the next five or fifty minutes staring down at the ghoul in his arms. That beautiful, kind, pure creature that didn’t deserve any hatred and maltreatment he experienced over the years. The man that Rain gave his heart and soul up for, and begged him to let him do so. The one the water ghoul loved more than anything, both Topside and in the Pits, in his immortal life.

And yet…

And yet Rain couldn’t wait for Dewdrop to wake up, get up and leave.

No, he didn’t want him to leave, that was… it was his worst nightmare. He never wanted to be alone, he was afraid of being alone, of being left behind and forgotten, of not being touched, of not being loved, what–

What the fuck was wrong with him?

Rain wasn’t sure how long it took for Dewdrop to wake up. Wasn’t sure how long he spent drowning in thoughts that weren’t his own. What would they be doing in his head, then?

The fire ghoul got up and left—finally, Rain’s mind provided—claiming it was going to be a busy day for him. Something about post-tour gear maintenance and paperwork related to it. Dewdrop proposed he’d find someone to keep Rain company, but the water ghoul insisted he was fine on his own. It was possibly the biggest lie that had ever escaped his mouth, but Dewdrop left it alone. Left Rain alone.

He promised he’d be back by the end of the day, that he’d come back to spend the night with Rain again. In his mind he both begged Dewdrop to fulfill that promise and to never come near him again.

He wanted to be alone, but the moment the fire ghoul closed the door behind him Rain whimpered and if he had at least a fraction of strength in him, he’d throw himself onto the floor and crawl after Dewdrop and beg him not to leave.

He didn’t, so there Rain was, submerging bit by bit in an ocean of thoughts that he desperately wanted to not be his, to not come true. Why couldn’t he swim?

Another day. 

Rain woke up alone and cold. Dewdrop didn’t come back.

His heart hurt, but he couldn’t blame him. He must’ve felt the negativity pouring off of Rain in waves, he must’ve known what was going through his head, he must’ve seen the change in how he held him.

The water ghoul didn’t know the time again. The curtains in his windows were shut, he couldn’t really estimate. It was probably more of an afternoon than a morning, but he didn’t care. He found himself not caring about a lot of things nowadays.

He opened his eyes with a sigh and tried his best to turn over onto his other side without causing himself any pain. He managed relatively well, only groaning a bit, but something set in the corner of his room, that wasn’t there before and wasn’t supposed to be there, caught his eye. A growl rose in his throat as Rain grabbed his phone and furiously found Swiss’ nickname in his contacts.

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty, you need anything?” the multi ghoul’s disgustingly sweet voice sounded from the speaker after a few seconds.

“Come here,” Rain snarled and hung up.

He knew Swiss would burst through the door in seconds, scared he might need help. In the short meantime the water ghoul threw his legs over the edge of the bed and got up. He padded over to that offending thing, and leaned against his desk next to it, glaring at it with gaze so fiery it could rival Dewdrop’s own.

“What’s wrong?” Swiss all but ran into the room, not being too careful about the door. He paused in the middle of it, taking in Rain’s fury.

“What the fuck is that?” he spat.

“It’s… uhm, it’s a wheelchair.”

“I can fucking see that!” the water ghoul shouted. Did Swiss think he was stupid? Did he think it was funny? “What is it doing here?”

“I brought it down from the infirmary.” He shrugged, brows furrowed at Rain’s raised voice. So he was right, it was his brilliant idea. “Can be useful.”

Silence fell for a moment, and Swiss thought Rain was thinking it through, that he was trying to be reasonable. But then he lifted his head and the multi ghoul felt like he was about to drown in the depth of anguish in Rain’s eyes. “Get it out.”

“What?”

“Get it out!” he blew up, spit flying from his mouth and tears clinging to his lashes. Before Swiss could make a move to do as he said, Rain snarled and turned to kick the wheelchair. It turned over a few times before ending up on the other side of the room, the multi ghoul’s eyes following it, but his head snapped back to Rain when he heard a thud and a painful moan from him. He put too much weight onto his bad leg when kicking that damned thing and nearly folded in on himself as he went down to the floor.

“Raincloud, Lord Below…” Swiss gasped, coming closer to help the other, but another growl—this time obviously being supposed to be threatening—escaped Rain’s mouth, curved into a pained frown.

“Don’t!” he yelled again. “Don’t fucking touch me, just– just get out.”

“Rain, I don’t–” Swiss tried, reaching a hand out. It hurt him so much, seeing Rain in pain, seeing him so– so miserable and broken. He’d never wished anything in his life as bad as to be able to take it all away from the water ghoul.

“I SAID GET OUT!” Rain still tried to sound relatively collected, act like it was only rage that was consuming him, nothing else. It was a fool's errand, of course, especially in front of Swiss. He could see right through him.

“Do you want Dew?” the multi ghoul asked quietly, not looking at Rain anymore. He let out a pained whimper, as if Swiss had just put a knife through his heart. He took it as a no.

The multi ghoul didn’t see a point in upsetting Rain any further. He nodded—pity pouring off of him—and turned on his heel to leave, shutting the door behind him. Leaving the flipped over wheelchair in the corner of the room.

Only when Rain couldn’t hear Swiss’ footsteps in the distance anymore did he break, tears flowing down his cheeks like waterfalls as he choked on them sobbing, curled up on the floor.

He cried and cried, sickeningly reveling in the pain increasing and enveloping him and the anger swallowing him up, until all he could do was stare at the scratched and dirty hardwood and desperately gasp for breath like a fish pulled out of water. In a way he was, and he began daydreaming about sinking to the bottom of the lake and never coming up again.

He’d miss the music and his pack but… would they miss him?

Dewdrop was spending most of the week following their return from tour busying himself with chores, sleeping with anyone but Rain and crying. Usually into Swiss’ or Mountain’s shoulder.

He didn’t know what to do and he hated it. He hated seeing his partner in pain so much he stopped going to see him at all after two days. He just couldn’t bear it.

What he couldn’t bear even more, though, was the glint in Rain’s eyes and the tension in his body that told Dewdrop he hated him now. He tried so hard to not blame the water ghoul for it—for anything—to understand, to let him feel whatever it was that he was suffocating under in peace… but Dewdrop was always self-conscious, contrary to a popular belief.

He was terrified.

Terrified of Rain leaving him, of becoming a stranger to the man he loved above anything else in the universe. That’s what would kill Dewdrop.

Aether told him it would never happen, that it was physically impossible. He said he saw and felt the bond between Rain and Dewdrop and that it was something unbreakable, even if Lucifer Himself decided to try. He said the water ghoul would come around when his denial and anger would slowly turn to depression, then bargaining and finally to acceptance. Aether told Dewdrop that Rain loved and needed him, even if not right then.

“I need him, too, Aether,” the fire ghoul had said, and left. Aether seemed to not understand, even though he was supposed to be the one who understood everything. It all seemed… fake to Dewdrop.

He promised himself he’d never hate Rain. That no matter what he would do, what would happen, no matter how hard it would be, Dewdrop would be there. He would wait, even if it meant waiting till the damned end of the world. He would wait.

Another day—how many has it been?—of Dewdrop crawling into Swiss’ bed with his body, mind and heart all exhausted. The multi ghoul welcomed him with open arms again, crushing him to his chest, and let him whimper quietly.

“I miss him, Swiss.”

Even though Rain was right there, just behind a wall. Somehow that made it all worse. The fact that he was so close, yet never farther.

“I know, kitten,” Swiss sighed. “I do, too. But it’ll be alright.”

“I– I don’t know what to do.” Even though Dewdrop was saying those words over and over again, like a prayer, over the last few days, he couldn’t seem to get rid of his guilt. He was supposed to be there for Rain no matter what and what was he doing? Hiding in other’s arms because of his fragile feelings when his partner was in pain and alone.

“It’ll be alright,” the multi ghoul whispered, as every time before that. There was nothing else to say.

Then, as usual, after some time, some more whines and some tears Dewdrop fell asleep, Swiss following shortly. Dewdrop loved Swiss and Swiss loved him, they always slept well together, but those nights they both seemed to not get any real rest. Weighted down by the feeling of their lover, their friend, their family rotting.

When they woke up in the morning—Dewdrop first—they talked again. The fire ghoul always got ideas overnight, something he put all the remaining scraps of hope into, and shared them with Swiss, hoping for approval.

“You’re killing yourself over him, you know that?” he usually said instead.

And Dewdrop thought, what if this time it’s a good idea? This time he was sure, actually.

“Swiss, what if– I was planning something and maybe…” he trailed off, tracing his fingertips over the expanse of Swiss’ stomach, “maybe I should do it now, maybe it’d make him understand that I’m here. That I’m… you know, not going anywhere?”

“Let’s hear it,” the multi ghoul said, but there was a tinge of hesitation in his voice already.

“We’re together, technically, but what if… he always wanted to… to do something more human, you know? I planned it, but I’m a fucking coward and…”

Swiss floated away for a moment, not really listening to what Dewdrop was saying anymore. He knew what the plan was, it wasn’t the first time it was mentioned to him. He wasn’t sure it would work. Besides, how was anything supposed to work? What did that even mean? Maybe Dewdrop was right, maybe he should do it. Rain would cause—was causing—a lot of harm but there’s no way he would hurt Dewdrop that bad, if he… no, he wouldn’t, no matter what.

“...could go and–”

“Do it.”

“W– what?” the fire ghoul sputtered. “You like the idea?”

“I’m not sure,” Swiss sighed, nuzzling his face down into Dewdrop’s hair, “but I’m not sure about anything Rain-related right now, and this seems like something that could finally… snap him out of it.”

“Promise me you’re serious,” Dewdrop quietly begged into his neck. 

“I just– I just don’t think we can come up with anything better, kitten. We gotta get him back.”

“We gotta get him back,” the fire ghoul agreed. “We gotta get him back.”

Dewdrop didn’t think he had ever been as nervous as now. He wasn’t just nervous, it wasn’t anxiety, it wasn’t stage fright. He was terrified that it wouldn’t change anything. He was terrified that it wouldn’t fix anything.

Still, he was not giving up.

He wanted to do it immediately. The fire ghoul parted with Swiss and ran to his own bedroom to prepare. As much as possible, at least. It wasn’t something one could really prepare for.

Dewdrop took a shower—boiling hot—got dressed in something that wasn’t a stretched out or stolen band t-shirt and bent down by his wardrobe to fish the most important part out. His hands were shaking, and he cursed himself out under his breath.

The fire ghoul shoved it into his pocket and stormed out of his room. Before he blinked he was already by Rain’s and he suddenly lost all the remaining scraps of courage he had. 

It was a stupid idea, Rain didn’t need that now, he’d be annoyed, it wouldn’t work, it was a bad moment, he should just–

“I can hear you breathing over there,” the water ghoul’s muffled voice came from behind the door. Dewdrop flinched, cold sweat dripping down the back of his neck.

“C– Can I come in?” he asked, trying to hide the shake in his voice.

“Sure.” He cleared his throat, wiped his hands on his pants and grabbed the handle. Dewdrop slipped inside and nearly stumbled backwards as he got hit with a stench of… pain. Mental and physical anguish were hanging thick in the air and tears suddenly gathering in the fire ghoul’s eyes wasn’t just his body’s defensive response.

There was a mess on the floor, everything one could think of thrown all around the room. Curtains were half shut, barely letting any light inside. Rain was in his bed, sheets crumpled over the lower half of his body as he fidgeted with his own fingers and avoided looking at his partner.

“Rainy, do you–”

“It’s alright,” the water ghoul didn’t let him finish, glancing up briefly as he tried to muster up a reassuring smile. Dewdrop had never seen a thing so fake. “What did you need?”

He managed to forget what he came there for when he took in the ruin Rain was in. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. The other wasn’t looking at him and Dewdrop felt as out of place as ever.

“Dew?” Rain said quietly again. The fire ghoul cleared his throat and squeezed his eyelids to banish away the tears of fear.

“Yeah, I’m here,” he whispered and put a hand back into his pocket, fingers wrapping around the item put away in there. “I have a… question for you.” Rain hummed in acknowledgement.

Dewdrop took a shaky step forward, kicking away a crumpled water bottle to make space, and took one last deep breath.

He lowered himself to the floor, kneeling.

Only then did Rain look at him again, “Droplet, what are you–”

“You always talked about how you love human traditions,” the fire ghoul’s voice was quiet but wobbly, as if he was to burst into tears any second. He just might, really. “That you think they’re cute and… and I know it’s not the same with ghouls, but–”

He paused. Rain was looking at him with his brows raised and his expression unreadable. It made Dewdrop even more terrified but he wouldn’t stop now. He pulled out the little box from his pocket. “Rain, I want to marry you. Like a human. Will you? Will you marry me? Will you be my mate?”

The water ghoul’s lips parted, mouth hanging open in shock. And something else. He stammered, eyes wide, “D– Dew, wh– what?”

“I know it’s stupid and cheesy, but I don’t care. Rain, I need you, I love you more than anything, you know that.” It was silent for a few moments and Dewdrop had never felt time go as slow as it did then. His face was burning and his heart was racing so fast he felt it shake his entire body.

Finally, Rain broke the silence, but with… with a scoff. “Really? You’re so desperate to cheer me up, or whatever, that you’re, what, proposing?”

Dewdrop’s ears started ringing, there was suddenly a crushing pressure on his chest and a sting in his eyes. Physical pain all over. He was sure the world was starting to crumble under him. “W– what? No– no, of course it's not like that, Rain–”

“Yeah…” he sighed. “You just suddenly got a dream of being mated to a cripple, sure.”

“Rainy, p– please, don’t–” the fire ghoul was crying now, fat and hot tears running down his cheeks.

“Oh, maybe it’s a charity kinda thing? That’d be fun.”

Dewdrop let out a choked out sob and scrambled to get up, dropping the ring under the bed in the process. Not like it would be needed now, would it?

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, throwing himself at the door and pulling it open. He paused, just for a second before he ran out and slammed it shut. “I planned it for months.”

The silence that suddenly surrounded Rain again was soul crushing. 

What the fuck did he just do?

Rain had no idea what happened to Dewdrop after he… left. He couldn’t feel anything, couldn’t hear anything, nobody came to talk to him. About this or anything else. 

He dared to check his phone, this one time. All he found was a single text message from Swiss. Rain wasn’t hoping to find any words of consolation or assurance, he wasn’t that delusional. He found exactly what he expected.

man I know you’re in pain and all, but you fucked up

He knew he did. The worst he ever has, no doubt. He wished someone would come and yell at him—maybe beat him up, if he was lucky—but that would be mercy he didn’t deserve. What he was doing to himself was worse, anyway.

Rain didn’t think there was any coming back from this.

How could he? He didn’t mean any of it. He knew Dewdrop loved—used to love?—him, they talked about this months ago. He knew what the fire ghoul did was genuine, brought up by nothing but the sickening amounts of love he was harboring for Rain in his broken little heart.

If he knew all that… why did he do what he did?

What the fuck was wrong with him?

Everything was the simplest answer. The truth.

There was nothing to be done about it apart from rotting in pain, the misery of loneliness he sentenced himself to on his own and the self hatred for doing so. 

It appeared Rain couldn’t cry anymore. He had neither the tears nor the energy. How low he must have fallen, how far away from who he was, that even his beloved water decided to turn her back on him.

So he lay there on the floor surrounded by thrash—he supposed he was fitting in—staring at the cracked ceiling with unseeing eyes, as if his empty gaze could fill the cracks in the ceiling and the hearts of his packmates at the same time.

It could’ve been minutes, it could’ve been days. The physical pain was nothing anymore, compared to the self inflicted mental anguish. The dull and somehow simultaneously sharp ache that was spreading in waves through his broken body was rewarding, in a way. Punishing, Rain supposed. He deserved every bad thing that has ever happened to him and that would be to happen to him for just this one horrible mistake.

He didn’t deserve the respite of sleep. When he felt it finally taking him, all he could do was pray to Lucifer to not let him rest.

His prayers weren’t answered. Of course, why would Lucifer side with him? He hurt Dewdrop, the one He had protected so fiercely all his life, the favored one. Rightfully so. Dewdrop deserved the world and Rain did not deserve to be even a grain of sand under the fire ghoul’s feet in that world.

He woke up with a start and a splitting headache to a harsh knocking on his door. It wasn’t asking, it was– “I’m coming in.”

Rain let out a grunt, but made no effort to move from his spot on the dirty floor. Swiss’ scent hit him as the multi ghoul loomed over him. It was a mixture of sadness, anger and… grief, Rain thought. What would he be grieving?

“I brought snacks,” Swiss announced and Rain heard something being dropped onto his bedside table. “I don’t care what excuses you’re cooking up in that head of yours, I’m coming back tomorrow and I better find them eaten.”

With that he turned around on his heel and returned to the door. He paused, though, and the water ghoul heard a sigh.

“He’s not really angry at you, you know?” Swiss said. Silence answered him. “I think it’s physically impossible to be angry at you, he’s just… you know how hard vulnerability is for him. He was planning it for quite some time mostly because he was nervous, and then he finally managed to do it and, well… you know what happened. He just needs a little space. He’ll come back, and he’ll come back soon, because that dumbass can’t live without you. You better be ready when he does. I’ll kick your ass myself if you won’t.”

Rain stayed quiet, trying to not let his mind hang onto Swiss’ words. He failed.

He heard the door opening, but before it was shut the multi ghoul spoke again, “Now get yourself the fuck together.”

Rain expected a deafening silence once Swiss left. Instead all he could hear was the pounding of rain outside, the noise of it pattering against the window. Rain scoffed at the irony of his namesake falling down just as he was falling apart.

He thought maybe he should reunite with it, let it soak into his dehydrated skin and make him feel like himself again. Even if just for a moment.

Rain groaned with pain, sinking his claws into the hardwood floor and rolling around. He bent his arms under his body and pushed himself up. His heart raced, head spun, but soon he was standing.

Swiss was right. Dewdrop would come back, he was too stubborn not too, and the least Rain could do was not hurt him any more than he already did.

He limped to the door, gritting his teeth against the pain radiating mostly from his hip, but hesitated with his hand over the handle. Maybe he should… 

The water ghoul looked over his shoulder at his desk where a cane was laying, already covered in dust. He bit his lip so hard he drew blood.

Rain turned around.

“That’s an interesting choice of weather to finally go out,” Rain heard a familiar voice from behind him.

“Well, uhm… a bit ironic, too,” the water ghoul muttered as he turned around, coming face to face with the other. He hasn't seen them in ages.

“You could say so,” Zephyr shrugged. “I’d say it can be symbolic.”

“I need it,” Rain sighed, feeling tears welling up in his eyes. He gripped his cane’s handle tighter, eyeing the other’s own.

“I understand. Good luck.” The air ghoul winked and took a step to the side, intending to go on about their day.

“Zephyr, how…” Rain took a deep breath. “How did you survive? How are you surviving?”

“I’ve got my pack,” they answered with a soft smile painted on their face. They looked happy. “When I really think about it, they’re all I truly need.”

Dewdrop felt his heart clench when he caught sight of Rain outside through the common room’s window. He wanted to smile and cry and scream, overwhelmed with all the emotions known to man. He couldn’t have known if Rain being out there, in the rain, meant anything, but he didn’t care. Limping through the garden with a cane clutched in one of his hands, Rain was out there.

Dewdrop stormed out of the den, running out into the downpour with no care in the world apart from his ghoul. He ran until he was just behind him, pausing with a heaving chest as the world rumbled all around. “Rainy?”

The fire ghoul could see the deep breath he took when he turned around. Dewdrop didn’t even get a chance to blink before Rain was on him, cold nose pressing into his neck, arms wrapped tightly all around the smaller ghoul.

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed.

“Don’t have to be,” Dewdrop sighed, bringing him even closer. “Don’t have to be.”

Rain truly wailed at that. His knees buckled but the fire ghoul held him up, and it meant more than a thousand words. He’d always hold him up, wouldn’t let him fall. They both knew that.

“F– forgive me… please.”

“I already did, Angelfish,” he said and there was no hesitation in his voice.

“Can– can I… with you… stay with you t– tonight?”

The fire ghoul’s heart clenched tightly. He pressed a kiss to the top of Rain’s head. “Of course you can. Always.”

“But not yet,” he whispered, barely heard over the noise of rain. “Need it.”

“Yeah. Yeah, let’s stay here for a bit.”

So they did, clinging to each other and waiting for the sun to set as rain washed down over them.

When Rain started shivering Dewdrop carried him back inside and to his room, peppering kisses all over his wet face on the way, his heat kicked up to not risk the water ghoul catching a cold. He helped him dry himself and change. It was a quiet process, neither of them having words to spare. They didn’t need them anyway. Not yet, at least.

What they needed for now was each other, and they finally had it again. Rain didn’t protest when Dewdrop patted his bare chest in invitation once they were in his bed. The water ghoul scooted over and glued himself to the other, curling an arm around his waist. Tails and legs tangled together.

They both haven't slept as well as that night for what felt like ages.

A few days had passed since that evening in the rain. Dewdrop has not stepped away from Rain for a moment over those days, always by his side, touching. Support both mental and physical.

Not much changed, really. Barely anything. Rain was still hurting, plagued by the pain his body was subjected to and the one his hurt body caused his mind.

But he smiled again. He took care of himself more. Well, Dewdrop took care of him, mostly, but Rain let him. He wasn’t fighting anymore. It was a slight improval, but an improval nonetheless.

“What do you think about breakfast?” Dewdrop asked as they were laying in bed one morning, lounging lazily and drinking each other in. Rain had the fire ghoul tucked against his side, lithe fingers brushing softly through the golden strands. He was about to open his mouth to agree, but the other spoke again before he could, “With the others?”

While the two of them did come across one or a few of the others over the last couple of days, Rain still hasn’t really talked to anyone. He felt guilty and doubted he’d be able to handle them all at once. But maybe… with Dewdrop…

“I– I, uhm…” he mumbled.

“It’s okay, we don’t have to,” the fire ghoul quickly added. “Just a proposition. We can wait as long as you need to.”

“No, I…” Rain sighed and swallowed thickly. “I want to. I miss them.”

Dewdrop tilted his head, looking up at him with his brows furrowed. “Really? You sure? We don’t ha–”

“I’m sure,” he smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to the other’s forehead. “What time is it?”

The fire ghoul turned to take a look at his phone. “Nearly ten. I’ll text them we’ll be coming down, okay?”

“We should get going, then.” Rain started to gather himself up to crawl out of their nest. Once he did and the obligatory dizziness had passed, Dewdrop grabbed his hand, pulling him in between his legs where he sat at the edge of the bed.

“If you’ll feel overwhelmed or simply change your mind, just tell me and we’ll leave, okay? They’ll understand. I just don’t want you to stress out for no reason,” the fire ghoul said, drawing circles on Rain’s hand with his thumb.

“I’ll tell you,” he agreed and with a pull on his finger prompted Dewdrop to stand up and fall into his arms for a hug. He kissed the top of the smaller ghoul’s head before they parted to get dressed.

Soon, they were slowly walking down the corridor to the common room, hand in hand, and the closer they got the faster Rain’s heartbeat was. Still, Dewdrop held onto his hand with an iron grip and wasn’t planning on ever letting go.

“I love you,” he whispered into Rain’s ear as he got onto his tiptoes to kiss the water ghoul’s cheek.

“I love you, too,” he muttered back, just before they walked into the common room.

“Hi, Dew!” Phantom noticed them first, grinning as he realized Rain was there, too. “Hi, Rainy!”

At his, not very subtle, announcement, the rest of the ghouls turned their heads in the pair’s direction. Rain had his head hung and Dewdrop squeezed his hand reassuringly as they padded further into the room. Apart from the initial surprise—a positive one—on the pack’s faces, no fuss was created. They greeted Rain and Dewdrop normally and proceeded to go on about everything as if nothing had ever happened. The water ghoul was overwhelmed, but grateful for this small mercy of not being the center of attention.

Dewdrop kept a hand on his thigh at all times, additionally giving him a warm squeeze to his still aching hip or knee. Breakfast was uneventful, a true blessing. Everyone had their own quiet conversations going on with a giggle rising up over the voices from time to time. Rain kept quiet but he enjoyed the background noise of his pack. Of life.

At some point Phantom truly burst out laughing, nearly choking on his juice. Swiss patted him on the back as he grinned and tried to not laugh himself.

“What’s so funny?” Cumulus asked with her eyebrows raised and a soft smirk.

“Bug finally found the video,” Swiss sighed. A series of snorts sounded out around the table.

“What’s the video?” Aurora asked, the only one clueless as to what was so hilarious.

“The one where he–” Mountain started but Phantom cut him off with more booming laughter and wheezed out words.

“Where he falls off the fucking stage!” he all but yelled. “Like a fucking starfish!”

“Oh, I saw that one,” Aurora giggled.

“Everyone did,” Aether scoffed, returning to his food.

“I know it looked funny.” The multi ghoul folded his arms across his chest and pouted dramatically. “But it was very serious! I was bruised for two weeks!”

Rain felt something in his heart souring, but he focused on his toast and the comforting warmth radiating from Dewdrop.

“Oh, I bet.” Phantom put a hand over his heart, as dramatic as Swiss. “It must’ve been so scary!”

The water ghoul gritted his teeth as the rest of the table laughed at Phantom and Swiss’ little act. Rain tensed up, thousands of words slamming against his brain now. Why did it even set him off? It was nothing, it meant nothing, they were just joking it–

“You’re so brave, Swissy!” Phantom laughed and Rain snapped.

One moment the room was filled with laughter as he sat by the big table, the second it was dead silent as he limped away with a snarl on his lips and stinging tears in his eyes.

“Rain!” Dewdrop called after him. He was so stunned at the water ghoul’s outburst he didn’t follow him right away. “Angelfish, wait–”

He slammed his door shut and locked it as soon as he reached his room, right in Dewdrop’s face. He threw himself onto the bed and curled into a ball, hands pressing into his ears so hard it hurt, to not hear the fire ghoul’s muffled, hurt voice, pleading with him to open the door.

Not this time.

Dewdrop shuffled back to the common room after a few minutes, knowing that lingering at Rain’s door would do no good. He ran a hand down his face with a sigh. Back by the table Swiss was consoling a crying Phantom as the rest pointedly stared at their plates.

“It’s not your fault, Ant,” Dewdrop told him. It really wasn’t. “He’s in a fragile state now, but he knows it was just joking around and not even about him.”

“B– but I–” the quintessence ghoul sniffled.

Dewdrop forced himself to smile softly, reassuringly. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Okay?”

“Okay,” he mumbled and let himself be pulled closer by Swiss as he wiped off his tears. The tension in the room could be cut with a knife as the fire ghoul plopped down onto a couch. He wasn’t hungry anymore.

Dewdrop dropped his face into his hands and tried so hard to not just… break. He took a few shaky deep breaths trying to compose himself. He felt the couch dip next to him, then, and Aether’s scent enveloped him as the bigger ghoul wrapped himself around him.

“It’s okay, firefly,” he whispered. “You’ll be alright. Both of you.”

Oh, how bad Dewdrop wanted to believe it.

Rain didn’t sleep well without Dewdrop again. He kept tossing and turning for hours, and even after he did finally manage to fall asleep, he still woke up frequently. That’s why he heard the suspiciously quiet knock on his door in the morning. “‘s open.”

The door squeaked and Cumulus’ fluffy hair came into Rain’s view. “Hi, pearl.”

“Mhm,” he hummed in greeting, pulling the covers higher up over himself.

“How are you feeling?” The ghoulette came closer and closer until she sat at the edge of the bed. “Did you sleep well?”

“‘m fine,” Rain grumbled and shuffled away, not even trying to be discreet, when Cumulus’ hand hovered over his legs under the covers.

“Glad to hear,” she smiled, but the water ghoul wasn’t neither stupid nor blind. “Do you need anything? I can–”

“I said I’m fucking fine,” he growled, snapping his teeth. Cumulus flinched and quickly scrambled off of the bed. Rain could smell her scent souring in real time.

“Oh, uhm… I’m– I’m gonna go then… goodbye, Pearl,” she murmured and stumbled out of the door, still being careful and considerate enough to not slam it. Rain sighed, burying himself under the covers fully. She didn’t deserve it, there was really no reason for him to–

“No, you fucking don’t!” Cirrus yelled, out of nowhere. She, on the other hand, slammed the door so hard it was surprising the frame didn’t splinter. Before Rain could register what was happening the bedding was ripped off of him and it was his turn to flinch. “You’re either going to get yourself the fuck together or we’re going to leave you here to rot in your own misery.”

Her teeth were bared as she stood over him, fuming. “You’re in pain and depressed, we get it, but it’s not our fucking fault. It’s not yours either, but stop making it worse for yourself and us by being a little bitch.”

Cirrus was right, Rain knew she was. He was silent, but he hoped she’d rip him to shreds as she continued to growl and snarl. “Dewdrop didn’t do anything to deserve what you said to him, Phantom didn’t mean anything by what he said and you know it, Swiss was only trying to help because he cares for you.”

“Look at me,” she spat, kicking the bed frame. He couldn’t look her in the eyes, he was a filthy coward. “Cumulus was crying her eyes out feeling sorry for you at night and wanted to simply offer company in the morning. I understand everything, I really do, but that’s fucking enough, Rain.”

He felt like a child, being scolded as he fidgeted with his hands, no power to talk back. Cirrus was right, about everything. Rain hurt everyone, even though all they tried to do was help. He was a monster. He didn’t deserve to as much as live in the same building as his pack, those kind, caring and compassionate ghouls that were nothing like him, the miserable cripple poisoning everyone’s lives.

He’d do everyone a favor if he just… disappeared.

It could’ve been a day or a week again, as Rain continued his rotting. He didn’t have any will, energy or reason to do… anything, really. Once in a while he’d stumble to the bathroom to piss, but how often could that be happening if he didn’t drink anything? That was another thing, he was drying out, not only inside but outside, too. He was a water ghoul, for Satan’s sake.

Rain didn’t see a point anymore. He tried, he thought it was about to get better, he thought it was about to get fixed, he had Dewdrop again and he fucked it all up. Again. He didn’t deserve more chances.

Rain lost.

He flipped over on his bed, groaning at the pain shooting through his body at the movement after so long of being stuck in one position. The water ghouls stared at the ceiling, the moonlight dancing on the flat surface. He longed to feel the peace of it again.

It was cold when Rain woke up again. He didn’t think he had ever been so cold.

Something was wrong, he wasn’t– it wasn’t just cold in his room, he was freezing inside. Heart feeling like a block of ice.

His hands were shaking, his knees ached.

Rain noticed a bass laying next to him. How did it get there?

He tried to reach out for it with a whine, but he couldn’t… he couldn’t move. His body wasn’t listening to him. He was stuck.

“Please,” he whimpered, eyes stinging. He tried one more time.

His fingers twitched, then his wrist, but before he could grab the bass, it was gone. Vanished.

A shuddered sob left his throat and he brought his hand back to his chest, as if it got burned. Why did it… where did it go?

Rain got up, legs wobbly. Pain shot through his entire body, but he didn’t stop. He left his room, he wanted to find someone. He didn’t know why, he avoided them all, after all, but he suddenly needed them.

He walked slowly, holding onto the wall, wincing with every step, his jaw clenched. First door, Swiss’ bedroom. He knocked.

No answer.

Rain swallowed thickly and pressed down on the handle, opening the door with a squeak. He looked into the room but it… it was empty. Completely bare, no furniture, no belongings. No Swiss.

The water ghoul’s heart sank.

He closed the door and moved on to another one. Mountain.

The shaking of his hands was worse now, anxiety rising. Mountain’s room was empty, too. Rain’s heart was racing, fear engulfing him completely. Did they… leave him?

He limped from door to door, finding each and every bedroom in the same state of nakedness. The den has become a wasteland and Rain felt like he had slept right through it.

Tears were flowing down his face, his breathing was shallow and his head was pounding as he stumbled down to the common room. It was empty, too, but there was a piece of paper on the big dining table, covered in dust. Rain didn’t want to read it.

He did, though. He couldn’t not have.

You finally did it, you pushed us all away. 

Congratulations, Rain.

You are free.

Rain woke up with a cry on his lips, body covered in sweat.

Did he really wake up?

His body hurt all the same. He was alone all the same.

He supposed that was it. His nightmares finally came true and it was nothing he didn’t deserve. He truly did this to himself.

Rain lifted an arm to move his damp hair out of his face with a sigh. When he dropped it he hit something that was laying next to him on the bed. Something like paper. He grabbed it, brought to his face and tried to see what was on it, squinting in the half-dark room.

A pain sound left his mouth as his heart sank impossibly deeper when he made out the words in Papa’s clean handwriting.

Rain tumbled out of bed, his knees hitting the floor. He scrambled up and with tears adding to the wetness on his face ran out of his room with energy he wasn’t able to find in himself for the last… well, he still wasn’t sure how much time had really passed since the tour had ended.

But now he ran.

“Even you can’t convince him to give up touring,” Mountain sighed, running his fingers through Dewdrop’s hair where his head was resting on the other’s chest.

“I know, but Aether–” he sniffled.

“Aether wanted it, it was his idea,” the earth ghoul reminded him. This was the third—or thirteenth—time they were having this exact conversation. Mountain wasn’t annoyed or exasperated by it, no. He just wished he was able to tell Dewdrop something else. “Sunny, too. This is a very different situation, Fire Lily.”

“Fuck, I know, but I– I just can’t see him like this, but I know not playing will be equally bad, Mounty. If not worse. ”

“Yeah… yeah, it will,” he whispered. It was the truth, everyone knew it. Rain and his music was something… it was one. It couldn’t be separated, Rain without music was an empty shell, a ghost. He needed it to survive just as much as he needed water.

Silence that fell after that was soon interrupted by a single vibration of Mountain’s phone. He reached out for it and Dewdrop could hear and feel his heart speeding up under his ear.

“Oh… I– I don’t think any of us will have anything to say about it,” the earth ghoul said.

“What do you mean?” Dewdrop perked up, anxiety rising in him.

Mountain showed him his phone, the band’s group chat open. The single text message from Papa hanging over the bright background was like a knife piercing the skin of Dewdrop’s chest.

Good morning, my dear ghouls. I am sorry for not informing any of you in advance, but I thought it best, considering the… circumstances. I hope you can understand my decision. All of you, please come down to the summoning chamber as soon as you get this. We are about to summon a new ghoul.

“They’re about to summon a ghoul now?” a choked off whimper left Dewdrop’s throat. That would… it would kill Rain.

“Seems like Papa made a choice a while ago,” Mountain grumbled and pulled the shaking fire ghoul closer to his chest, neither of them ready to face the reality. They both hoped the messages that came soon in quick succession after the first wasn’t Papa hurrying them. It was worse.

dew 

my office

now

its rain

This made the fire ghoul scramble out of Mountain’s arms and throw himself out of the door without a word. The earth ghoul understood, he slowly climbed out himself and began to get ready. After all, the new ghoul would have to be welcomed no matter the state their pack was currently in.

Papa expected Rain to show signs of life as soon as he would wake up and see the note left on his bed. He knew it wasn’t likely for him to see the message on his phone. What the man didn’t quite expect was how he burst through his office’s door shaking and crying.

“Papa, please–” were his first words, let out in a breathless whine as the water ghoul stood in the door, clutching the handle for dear life. He looked like he was about to collapse. 

“I’m sorry, Rain,” Papa sighed, leaning back against the desk and trying to not make the pity show on his unpainted face. “I made my choice.”

“I’m fine, I just need to rest,” Rain pleaded, coming closer on wobbly legs. Papa reached out for him. “I can still tour, I won’t disappoint you any more.”

“You have never disappointed me, not once. I’m removing you from the project for your own good.”

A hurt noise left Rain’s mouth before his knees hit the ground. Before Papa could so much as blink the ghoul crawled over to him and wrapped himself around his legs, begging as if for his life. In a way he was.

“Please… Papa, don’t–” his voice was breaking, barely understandable, “don’t take this away from me.”

“I am sorry, my ghoul,” Papa said, meaning it. It was a hard decision for him, too, he knew how it would impact not only Rain himself but the entire pack, but he was the head of the church now. He was responsible for his ghouls. In the long run, this was the better choice. Lesser evil.

Papa lowered himself to the ground and wrapped his arms around Rain—still babbling out his pleas. He held on tight, letting the ghoul cry into his shoulder. Rain clung to the man as if he was a lifeline, the last remaining scraps of normality in his life.

Not letting his grip falter, Papa dug around for his phone. As clumsy as it was, he managed to send a few quick texts to the chat, hoping that the fire ghoul would be bothered enough to open them and come as soon as possible.

How could’ve he doubted him?

“Rain,” Papa whispered into his ear after what felt like hours. “Dewdrop’s here.”

The water ghoul’s head shot up so quickly he nearly gave himself whiplash. Through the tear-blurred vision he saw Dewdrop’s silhouette as he stood over the two of them.

“Angelfish,” he sighed and before anything else could leave his lips, Rain threw himself at his feet, wrapping weak arms around his calves and clinging hard as he cried into the fabric of his jeans. 

Dewdrop knelt—rather clumsily with how the other was holding him—and buried his fingers in Rain’s hair, bringing him close to his chest. He turned to Papa for a moment, gently asking him for space and the man left with a compassionate smile on his face, closing the door behind him.

“Rain… Rain, look at me. I’m here. I’ve got you, it’s okay.”

“You– you’ll go away, you’ll l– leave me,” Rain sobbed, clinging to Dewdrop’s shirt with white-knuckled grip, as if he’d really leave if he let go even for a split second.

“Angelfish, I won’t, ever,” the fire ghoul tried but Rain was so far away, spiraling so hard that nothing was getting through to him. Dewdrop was shaking now, too, Rain’s pain and sadness choking him like they’d be his own. Worse. “Please, Rainy, stay with me, I’m not going to leave, I’m not going anywhere.”

“D–  Droplet, I– I can’t–” his breathing was nothing but short, choked off gulps of air that he greedily swallowed but spat back out with another wave of tears after a second. Dewdrop frowned, the sound going straight to his bruised and cracked heart.

“Rainy, breathe. Please, breathe for me, please,” he begged him, on the verge of tears himself. He couldn’t cry, there was no point, he just had to– he just had to help Rain. “Please, baby.”

“I– I can’t… can’t D– Dew,” he wheezed out and it made panic flash through Dewdrop. It was too empty, he was… he sounded like he was suffocating and the fire ghoul could do nothing about it. “Dew, I– I’m s– scared.”

“I know, baby, it’s okay, it’ll be alright. Just breathe, please, Rainy.”

“Can’t…” Rain whispered without air, so quiet Dewdrop could barely hear it.

The water ghoul went limp in his arms, fingers letting go of his shirt, head thumping against his collarbone.

“Fuck, fuck, R– Rainy?” Dewdrop’s tears fell as panic rose in his throat like bile. “Rainy, please, wake up. H– hey, hey, Rainy, wake the fuck up, please, I’m begging you. Please…”

But Rain couldn’t hear him.

Rain came to surrounded by warmth. Nothing overwhelming and nothing… dry. He was in the water. He felt his limbs twitch, his chest slowly rise and fall.

“Hi, fish boy,” he heard a whisper and felt a breath on his ear. His brain was slowly catching on, registering his surroundings. Rain was in a bath. Dewdrop was with him, holding the water ghoul between his legs, against his chest. Chin hooked over his shoulder.

Rain tensed, breath hitching, but Dewdrop only tightened his arms around him. “Hey, it’s okay. I’ll look after you, it’s okay.”

No, no, he didn’t deserve it. He couldn’t take it.

“Rain, stop,” the fire ghoul sighed as if he knew exactly what he was thinking. He must have had. “It’s not true. I love you, let me take care of you.”

“D– don’t. Don’t say that.”

“Rainy… you’re such an idiot,” Dewdrop chuckled. It threw Rain off so much he stopped squirming, mouth nearly agape.

“W– what?”

“Just… just stop fighting everything, okay? It’ll be alright, just stop fighting. Please.”

Rain didn’t know how to answer, but after all the hurt he had caused Dewdrop, the least he could do was to obey. So he did.

“That’s it,” the fire ghoul hummed. “I’ve got you. Relax.”

Rain took a deep breath, letting his eyes fall shut, and tried to follow the simple instruction. He’d be able to if he’d just stop thinking. His thoughts were racing.

“It’s okay, you’re safe,” Dewdrop murmured, a wave of comforting warmth washing over Rain. He wasn’t sure if it was the fire ghoul’s warmth or just his words. They were like sedatives for him.

“Can you…” he cleared his throat, “please, Droplet, keep talking.”

“Of course, baby.” The water ghoul could hear the soft smile in his voice as Dewdrop traced his warm fingers over the skin of Rain’s stomach under the water. “My pretty, brave boy.”

“‘m not…”

“Hush. You asked me to talk, let me talk,” he scolded him. “You behaved like an ass but you are my pretty and brave boy.”

The fire ghoul nipped at his earlobe playfully. It nearly made Rain smile. “Tried so hard to get rid of me, didn’t ya? It’s not so easy, Angelfish, should’ve known that.”

Rain let his body go slack again, truly relaxing now that everything seemed normal for a moment. If he tried hard enough he’d be able to forget how he hurt, how hard he messed up and how bad he felt about it. Dewdrop continued talking, mumbling soft words into his ear, pressing kisses to his damp skin in between them. Some things were hard to believe, some made him feel warm, some made his heart clench painfully, but Dewdrop continued talking. That’s what mattered. Rain didn’t even realize how much he had missed his voice alone.

He could fall asleep in that bath, cradled in the fire ghoul’s arms. He nearly did, stopped only by Dewdrop shifting, reaching for a bottle of shower gel and a loofah. Rain panicked, heart suddenly in his throat as he grabbed the other’s arm tightly. “Hey, shhh, it’s alright. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving, Rainy.”

Dewdrop nudged him to sit up once his initial fear had passed. The tub was huge, they could not only fit in there comfortably together, but also maneuver all they needed to. The fire ghoul smoothed a hand down Rain’s back, soothing him as he wetted and lathered the loofah with gel.

“Can I?” he asked, making sure Rain was okay with what he wanted to do.

He nodded, muttering, “I’m a mess.”

“Well, you have a nose,” Dewdrop chuckled. “I’m not gonna be lying to you.”

He was right, of course. It was hard to not end up a mess without taking care of oneself for weeks and that’s exactly what Rain did.

He smiled, though. 

Barely a hint, the corner of his lips raised upwards by quarter of an inch, but it was a smile.

Dewdrop leaned down to press a kiss to the top of Rain’s spine before bringing the sponge to his skin, starting to gently wash him. The water ghoul closed his eyes again and relaxed, finally letting himself be taken care of, letting himself feel all the love the other had for him through his tender touches.

No matter how far Rain would come, one thing would never change and it would be the fact that Dewdrop was simply too good for him. Too good for this world.

“Droplet?” he whispered after some time, when the fire ghoul settled in between his legs to wash his chest.

He smiled up at him sweetly and Rain’s heart swelled. “Hm?”

“Would you…” he swallowed thickly and felt his cheeks heat up. “Is there still a chance for us to… you know?”

“What, Rainy?”

“Mate? Get married?”

There were a few moments of silence, but Dewdrop didn’t stop the light scrubbing. Rain hung his head, now burning with shame. How stupid it was to ask that. “You don't have to say anything, don't have to agree, I just… I need to know if you can still… consider it after all I've done. Just tell me if there's a chance.”

“There's more than a chance, Angelfish,” the fire ghoul looked up at him again. There was no lie in his glowing eyes when he spoke. There was only love.

“R– Really? You still want–”

“Of course I do, idiot,” Dewdrop scoffed. “I can't live without you. And you aren't that bad.”

“Fuck…” Rain felt like an impossible weight was just lifted off of him. His eyes were stinging but at the same time he couldn’t keep his lips from finally forming a full smile, something actually bright and real. “I love you so much, I can't live without you either, I'm so sorry, I was awful and–”

“Stop,” Dewdrop stopped him with a finger over his chapped lips. “It's behind us, it's okay.”

“I love you,” he repeated, breathless.

“I love you, too,” the fire ghoul shook his head with a grin. “Now are we calling the girls to help with the planning or…?”

Rain furrowed his brows in confusion. “W– what?”

“We're getting married aren't we?”

“You want– now?”

“Why wait?” Dewdrop shrugged and Rain could cry. He just might.

“Oh… oh, okay,” he mumbled instead, “yeah. Good point.”

The fire ghoul purred and pressed his lips to Rain’s own and it was another thing he hadn't realized he missed to a point of physical pain until he was given it again. Dewdrop pulled away way too soon, but Rain wouldn’t complain. Not yet, at least. “D’ya wanna get out? Go to bed and rest?”

“Soon,” the water ghoul sighed. The other nodded and rearranged himself in the bathtub, ending up with Rain against his chest again.

Dewdrop kicked up a purr and muttered into his ear, “You’re wearing a dress, right?”

“I am?”

“Are you not?”

Rain sighed with a smile, “I am.”

The tour ended two months ago.

It has been over a month since Rain started to get better. Not physically—nobody knew if that would come—but mentally. It is a road full of bumps and curves and turnarounds, but most of the tears and grief are left behind. Whatever will happen in the future, Rain has his pack. Enlarged now. He has Dewdrop.

And Dewdrop finally has Rain. All of him.

Whatever will happen, they will get through it.

“Hey, Bambi,” Swiss snaps Rain out of his thoughts. “You ready?”

“Nearly, I just–” he grunts, fumbling with the zipper on his side. “Can’t close this thing.”

“Lemme help,” the multi ghoul chuckles as he comes closer and swats Rain’s hands away from the offending zipper. He fixes it quickly and pats him on the shoulder, taking a few steps back to look him over. “Well, well…”

“What?” Rain scoffs with his eyebrows raised, ringed and manicured hands smoothing down the silky fabric of his dress.

“Nothing, I’m just proud of you,” Swiss mutters. “Now let’s go get your man."

End notes: Thank you so much for reading. Like I said at the beginning, this work is very important and special to me, I hope you liked it. I'd really appreciate feedback if you did, whether just a like/reblog or a whole ass essay. It wasn't easy to write and yeah, I'd really appreciate it <3

[bitteraristocrat]

4am (SebaCiel drabble)

Inspired by @icantdothistodaybruh and this post <3

The devil knew he would regret not returning his master to his own bed chambers. It was a breach of aesthetic to allow his charge to sleep in his butler’s bed. But, Ciel looked too sweet cocooned in the bed linens that Sebastian rarely used, with only his nose peeking out from the duvet; his dusky fringe trussed and cascading over the modest, single pillow. Little, contented snores purred from him as he occasionally stirred in deep sleep. How could Sebastian disturb him? 

Perhaps more painful was leaving the boy and his sweet human warmth. A butler’s schedule stops at nothing, and there was work to be done in the darkest hours before dawn. 

The faint pattering of feet was evidence enough of Sebastian’s oversight. He turned from polishing the silver to find his drowsy young master at the threshold of the kitchen. 

“It is far too early for you to be awake, my lord,” Sebastian chided, sighing. The poor thing wobbled, legs still exhausted from their previous encounter, and looked endearingly more childlike than usual as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

“Mm,” Ciel leaned on the doorframe and stretched into a yawn. “Then you should make me a cup of tea.”

“Perhaps chamomile, to coax you back to bed,” Sebastian abandoned his work to approach his master. With a delicate hand, he tucked a wayward strand of hair behind the other’s ear–a gesture of endearment that most certainly would have been rejected had Ciel been more awake. It was only then that the demon’s eyes averted to what the boy was wearing: a starched white shirt that fell to his knees and was buttoned mismatched and sloppy. “Is this my shirt?” He was certain that Ciel was naked when he left his bedroom.

“Maybe,” Ciel muttered, a saccharine glint of mischief in his eyes, glassy and tired. “I wasn’t about to strut about the halls without having dressed myself.”

“Yes, I should have returned you to your own bed chamber and dressed you properly.” A twinge of pity befell the butler’s face. “How neglectful of me. My deepest apologies…You are going to catch a cold like this.”

“Not if you make me that tea.” To Sebastian’s surprise, the little imp leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to his cheek before strutting past, as if to entice the devil beyond retort. What a maddening creature his master was.

–

Having refused his butler’s insistence to take the chamomile in his room, Ciel held the cup in both hands and a heat spread all the way down to his bare toes; a herbaceous steam wafted up to his cheeks and made them glossy. Sebastian had resumed his work, although not without a concerned and disapproving arch permanently affixed to his brow. 

Between polishing each piece of silver, his gaze wandered back to Ciel. His legs were almost as pale as the shirt that drowned his petite form, peppered with gooseflesh and practically shimmering in the lamplight. His master’s attention was aloft in some lucid state, as his eyelashes fell heavy over his slow blinking eyes. Something in the demon’s cavernous chest ached to swallow that sweetness whole, douse its gentle flickering and smother the effect it had on his resolve. A sickly adoration wound itself inside the beast as he admired the fine slope of Ciel’s neck, and he contemplated dropping everything just to bury himself in its softness.

“Do you intend to stay with me throughout all of my morning tasks today?”

Ciel blinked at the sudden inquiry, roused at the sound of his butler’s voice cutting the silence. “I might. Would that irritate you terribly?”

“It would not irritate me,” Sebastian replied slowly, “but the detriment to your health it would cause would concern me a great deal.” 

“I’ll be fine, I can’t sleep most nights anyway.” The earl indulged in the last sip of his tea, and closed the distance between the two of them. He rested his head against the demon’s busy arm and allowed his eyes to fall closed once again.

“My master’s body betrays his stubbornness,” Sebastian chuckled, to which his counterpart groaned (he had heard those same words a few hours prior). “If you are so tired that you feel inclined to lean on me, then you ought to retire.” 

Ciel made a muffled noise of protest as he rubbed his face against his butler’s sleeve, much like a cat, Sebastian mused silently to himself. “Make me.” 

The command was alarmingly childish, even for Ciel, and Sebastian balked, hands paused mid-task. He sighed, once again abandoning the chore to collect the boy in his arms. Exasperated, the demon tutted. “What on Earth has you acting so lovely and vexing?” 

The boy shrunk at the blunt accusation, his tiredness wavering to a blushing glare. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He coiled around the other’s shoulders with a huff.

“And now, you are acting coy.” Sebastian turned his head to bestow a kiss upon the very same breadth of skin he had previously been drawn to and felt the baby hairs at the nape of his charge’s neck stand on edge at the jarring tenderness. “What am I to do with such a darling thing? I am unfamiliar with this side of my master.~”

“Shut up…”

[multi-fandom-imagines8]

A Song of Ice & Shadow

Part 9

You can read previous chapters here

Summary: Y/n learns the truth about her powers. When Azriel is injured rescuing Elain, Y/n tends to his wounds.

Word count: 3.9 K.

When Y/n woke, Nesta and Elain were sitting by her side.

“What happened? Did we-”.

“We won. Barely” Nesta informed her, her voice low, her eyes flickering with the weight of recent events.

“What about the Shadowsinger and the General?” Y/n’s voice was shaky, tension creeping into her body as she leaned forward.

“Azriel is fine. Cas- Cassian is unconscious” Nesta replied, her expression hardening, though a shadow of sadness dulled her eyes.

It wasn’t like Y/n didn’t believe her sister, but she needed to see for herself. The fear gnawing at her chest wouldn’t relent until she knew Azriel had made it through.

“You should rest” Nesta suggested.

“I’ve rested enough” Y/n replied, her tone heavy with a deeper meaning that spanned far beyond this moment. Since her turning, resting had felt like a futile endeavor.

Outside the tent, Feyre had just returned, and Rhys was informing her of what had happened. Y/n was about to approach them when her eyes caught sight of the Shadowsinger. She unconsciously moved towards him, her heartbeat quickening.

Azriel’s gaze snapped to her, his face and hands smeared with blood, some dried, some still fresh. His usually composed demeanor faltered as he rushed toward her. “Are you alright? You should be resting” he asked, his voice thick with concern.

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” she replied, frowning as she scanned him for injuries. “Are you hurt?”

“When I carried you back…we thought you were dead. Your body was ice-cold. What you did back there-”.

“I saw that commander” she interrupted, not focusing on a word he said. Her eyes narrowing as she circled around him, checking his back. ”He was about to drive a sword through your chest”.

“He missed by a few inches” Azriel murmured, but the faint grimace tugging at his lips betrayed the pain he was hiding.

“You should get it checked” Y/n insisted, her brow furrowing. Her fingers hovered near the blood-soaked fabric at his back, hesitant but aching to touch, to confirm he was still whole.

“I will. Once the healer is done with Ca- Cassian” his voice dropped, a tinge of worry surfacing.

“Is he badly injured?” she asked, a knot tightening in her stomach. “Is he going to-”.

“He’ll be fine. We have the best healers” he said, though the tension in his posture didn’t ease. “Y/n, what you did back there, did you-”.

“What did I do?” her brows knitted together in confusion.

“You don’t remember?”.

Y/n shook her head, rubbing her temple as a wave of exhaustion hit her “I don’t know. Things are blurry”.

“It’s alright, we can talk later. Get some rest” Azriel placed a hand on her shoulder, his touch meant to reassure, though it only made her frustration bubble to the surface.

“I am done resting” she snapped, her patience thinning. The word itself grated on her nerves.

Before Azriel could respond, Rhys emerged from Cassian’s tent and strode toward them “Glad to see you’re awake. We could’ve used-”.

“She doesn’t remember what happened” Azriel interjected, his gaze steady on Rhys.

Rhys’ face softened, a hint of understanding crossing his features “What’s the last thing you remember?” he asked.

“The commander. He gutted your General, and your Shadowsinger rushed to his side, trying to hold his guts in place when another soldier came up behind him and was about to kill him. Then I felt something… leave my body, and the next thing I know, I woke up here” her eyes flickered between the two males “What happened?”.

“You unleashed a thunderstorm on Hybern” Rhys said her, watching her carefully.

“It was already raining. Why would you think I did it?” she argued, her eyes narrowing at Rhys before glancing at Azriel, waiting for him to deny it. But he didn’t.

“We all saw it coming from where you stood, and Nesta confirmed it” Rhys added.

Y/n shook her head, a hand drifting to her temple “Well, I can’t remember any of that”.

“What were you feeling before you passed out?” Azriel asked, his gaze searching hers.

“I- it wasn’t just one thing. It was a mix… maybe fear or helplessness. I don’t know” she admitted, frustration lacing her tone.

“Maybe the overload of emotions triggered it” Azriel suggested, glancing at Rhys, who only nodded thoughtfully.

—

Later that day, Amren arrived with a book in hand, ready to locate the Cauldron with Nesta. Rhys and Azriel were helping Cassian sit up when Y/n, Nesta, Feyre, and Amren entered the tent.

“Hey, Y/n?” Cassian’s voice, hoarse but strong, cut through the tension. Y/n braced herself for a sarcastic remark, but his eyes held something different. “Thank you for what you did. If it weren’t for you, Az and I would be dead”.

“I didn’t do anything... At least not consciously” she replied, her voice quiet as her gaze dropped to the floor.

“Nonetheless, you saved our lives”.

She gave a brief nod, before moving to stand beside her sister, who was ready to follow Amren’s lead.

Something went wrong while locating the Cauldron. Nesta’s eyes remained closed, her grip on the bones and stones tightening. Feyre reached out to her mind, her voice sharp and urgent “Open your fist, now” Feyre screamed, and Nesta eventually let go.

“What the hell happened?” Y/n demanded, her pulse racing as she knelt beside her sister.

“The Cauldron… it’s-” Nesta struggled to find the right words.

“The size of Hybern’s army is like nothing I’ve ever seen, and they’ve crossed into the human lands”.

—

At dinner, they were joined by Tarquin and Varian. The latter wasted no time pulling Amren into a passionate embrace before the two disappeared into the night. The rest of the group tried to keep the mood light, though tension hummed beneath the surface. Y/n, however, couldn’t relax. Her mind was a storm of thoughts, fears clawing at her insides.

One by one, everyone retired to their tents, except for Y/n. She was staring blankly at her untouched plate. Azriel decided to remain with her, noticing her unease and distantness throughout the evening.

“Y/n?” he called, his voice was soft as he approached, his eyes keenly observing her.

“Mm?” she murmured, still staring at the edge of the table, lost in her thoughts.

“I think the stone works. It protected me during the battle” he said, trying to distract her from whatever worries she had in mind.

Her gaze finally lifted to meet his “I don’t think so. You still almost died” she replied flatly, her expression was unreadable, almost devoid of all emotions.

“But I didn't“ he countered gently. “It was a close shot but I didn’t” he reassured her.

“Not yet”.

“It’s not the first time”.

“I know, and I sense it won’t be the last” she replied, her eyes flickering back to the table.

Azriel moved closer, his gaze steady “We will be alright” he tried to put her mind at rest.

Y/n’s lips thinned into a tight line “Will we? I have a feeling it’s only going to get worse”.

“Nothing will happen to you, I pr-”.

“Do not finish that sentence” she interrupted, her eyes snapping to his “And don’t make promises you can’t keep. The last time y-” she cut herself off, shaking her head as she looked away “just please don’t”.

Azriel’s face softened, a hint of guilt visible on it “I’m sorry”.

“It’s fine” she replied, though her voice lacked conviction.

They sat in silence, the weight of unsaid words pressing down on them. Then suddenly, Y/n stiffened, her senses prickling. His shadows seemed to react at the same time, curling tighter around him and stretching toward her.

“Something is wrong. The Cauldron-” she started, her voice tense.

“I know. I felt it too” he murmured, already on his feet, scanning the area. They went outside and were met with the rest of the team, who also felt its presence. It had an eerie voice that could only be heard by those made. Nonetheless, it made everyone feel uncomfortable.

Moments later, the eerie presence vanished, leaving them all on edge.

“Where’s Elain?” Y/n‘s heart leapt into her throat as she turned to Nesta, panic flashing in her eyes.

Nesta’s face paled and the three sisters ran to their tent, but it was empty. Elain was already gone.

“We have to get her back” Y/n demanded, her chest tightening with a fierce sense of urgency.

Nesta shook her head, her face grim “How? I’ve seen the size of that army and if Elain’s there, it’s impossible to get her out”.

“I’m getting her back” Azriel declared, his voice low but laced with iron determination.

“Then you will die” Nesta said, her voice cracking with both anger and fear.

Azriel turned to Y/n, his expression softer now “I’m getting her back. I give you my word”.

Y/n’s breath caught in her throat. She wanted to believe him, but the terror gripping her heart was all too real “Y- you can’t. You’ll-”.

“Have a little faith in me” his eyes softened as they locked with hers, shadows still swirling around him.

“I’m coming with you” Feyre interrupted, as she glamoured herself to look like Tamlin’s priestess.

Azriel nodded, but Y/n’s eyes remained fixed on him “Just be careful” she said to both of them “bring them back safe” she pleased softly, her voice breaking slightly at the end.

He gave her a reassuring nod before turning to face Feyre, as they winnowed away.

Y/n was pacing relentlessly outside the tent, her thoughts spinning out of control. Every possible worst case scenario flashed through her mind, twisting her stomach into knots. She barely noticed Amren approaching until she was standing beside her, watching her with those sharp ancient eyes. “I heard what happened earlier” Amren said, her tone almost casual, though there was an edge to it. “Don’t you think you should try to at least harness your powers? You may very well need them soon”.

Y/n scoffed, rubbing her temples in frustration “Even if I wanted to, I don’t know where to start and there isn’t enough time”.

“Excuses” Amren shot back, her silver eyes narrowing slightly. “I can teach you. You can either wait here and let your anxiety eat you alive, or you can do something useful with your time”.

“Fine. Where do we start?” Y/n let out a heavy breath.

“First, I’d tell you to clear your mind, but I know better than to expect that from you right now” Amren replied, her lips quirking into the faintest of smirks. She gestured for Y/n to follow her into the dining tent. “We should go inside for the next steps”.

The two of them sat at the table, with Rhys and Cassian nearby, deep in discussion over war strategies. Nesta silently followed them, her gaze flickering between her sister and Amren, clearly intrigued by what was about to happen.

“Tell me exactly what you were feeling and thinking when you unleashed your powers” Amren commanded, her gaze sharp and penetrating.

Y/n sighed, feeling the weight of the question “I already told your High-”.

“Tell me again. In more detail” Amren pressed, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Y/n hesitated, but then began recounting the mix of emotions that had overwhelmed her. She spoke of the fear, the desperation. She omitted one tiny detail that she didn’t think was significant and oh, was she wrong. She didn’t tell about the raw terror she felt just at the thought of losing Azriel, which would’ve probably made things much easier for Amren. She wasn’t ready to confront that yet, even if it might help. Still, she relayed everything else as best as she could.

“So, it’s clear that strong emotions are the key” Amren declared, more to herself than to Y/n.

“I felt strong emotions before, though. Rage, and a lot of it. And nothing happened back then” Y/n protested, her frustration mounting.

“Perhaps you weren’t under enough pressure, or the situation wasn’t life- threatening enough” Amren mused. “Stress and danger may be the trigger for your powers”.

“Great” Y/n muttered sarcastically. “So, to test that theory, I should just throw myself into dange? I wonder where we can find such a dangerous situation. Oh, wait, I can go face off against some of Hybern’s army”.

Amren shot her a pointed look. “Or perhaps it’s not just your life in danger. It could be the lives of those you care about that trigger it”.

“Elain is in danger right now, and nothing has happened” Y/n countered, her voice rising in frustration.

“Perhaps you need to see it with your own eyes” Amren suggested coolly.

“We’re not testing that theory” Y/n snapped back, anger flaring in her chest.

Amren raised an eyebrow, clearly unfazed “I’m simply speculating about the possibilities. Close your eyes, try reaching for it”.

Y/n did as instructed but a few minutes later she complained “This isn’t working. I don’t feel anything. There’s nothing there”.

“Are you always this impatient?” Amren asked, her voice dry.

“This is me being patient” Y/n retorted, her frustration bubbling over.

Amren sighed, shaking her head. “Luckily, I don’t have time for patience lessons. Let’s try another approach”. She leaned forward, her gaze narrowing as she studied Y/n’s face. “You said you felt fear. Fear of what exactly? And if you could’ve done something in that moment, what would you have done?”.

Y/n’s discomfort grew under the weight of Amren’s questions, but she didn’t back down. “If I could, I would’ve fought beside your friends instead of watching from afar. I would’ve killed Hybern’s soldiers myself”.

“And what were you afraid of?” Amren pressed, her eyes never leaving Y/n’s face.

Y/n hesitated, a lump forming in her throat. “That we’d lose. That everyone on the battlefield would die”.

Amren’s expression was unreadable. “I thought you didn’t care about anyone on the battlefield” she reminded her, a subtle edge to her voice.

“I don’t” Y/n lied, her voice tight. “But if they died, it would leave me and my sisters defenseless against the King”.

“So you were thinking of your sisters?”.

Y/n’s jaw clenched “Not directly”.

Amren leaned in closer. “I need to know the exact thought and feeling you had before you unleashed your powers”.

“I don’t remember, alright?” Y/n snapped, her chest tightening under the pressure. The questions were too much, forcing her to confront things she wasn’t ready to face. “Is this how you’ve been training Nesta? Asking a million questions about her feelings”.

Amren’s eyes gleamed with irritation. “The two situations are different”. “Where do you think you’re going, girl?” She demanded as Y/n stood abruptly.

“To get some fresh air” Y/n muttered, storming out of the tent before Amren could say anything else.

The cool night air did little to calm her racing thoughts. She barely had time to breathe before she heard one of the soldiers shout “Healer!”.

Her heart dropped. A spark of electricity emerged from her hands, as she rushed toward the commotion. When she arrived, she found her sisters and Azriel all in one piece-almost. The small spark disappeared as soon as she reached them. Feyre was clutching her shoulder, wounded but standing. A human girl stood beside her, eyes wide with fear. Azriel was carrying Elain, who was covered in mud and scratched, but alive.

But Azriel… his wings were shredded, and his back was a mess of blood and torn flesh. Blood was dripping everywhere. He was barely standing, his magic the only thing keeping him from collapsing.

Y/n’s body went cold as she watched the scene unfold. Nesta ran past her to embrace Feyre, but Y/n stood frozen, her eyes fixed on Azriel.

“Elain isn’t hurt” Feyre’s voice whispered into Y/n’s mind, but still, Y/n didn’t move.

Rhys moved to take Elain from Azriel’s arms and placed her down with her sisters. Y/n finally broke from her trance and walked toward the Shadowsinger, her heart hammering in her chest.

“We need to get you to Thesan. Right now” Rhys ordered as Y/n opened her mouth to say something.

—-

The sight of his torn skin and bruised muscles made Y/n’s stomach twist with both anger and fear.

“We need to get this off you” the healer gestured to his Illyrian leather shirt. “You, help me. It seems his wounds are worse than usual. I need my other kit. Meanwhile, try to stop the bleeding” she instructed Y/n before leaving the two alone.

The thought of undressing him, not entirely, but enough to expose more of him than she’d ever seen, made her pulse quicken. She tried to push that thought aside, reminding herself this was about his injuries. About keeping him alive.

Her delicate fingers moved toward the buckles on his chest, where the straps of his Illyrian armor crisscrossed over his torso. She hesitated for a mere second, feeling the heat of his body against her ice cold hands, before she started to unbuckle the straps. As her fingers brushed against his skin, she noticed the way his breath hitched, the subtle shift in his posture. Azriel’s eyes never left her face as she finally loosened the last of the buckles. She carefully slid the chest straps off his shoulders, her hands brushing along the hard planes of his arms.

She moved to stand directly in front of him, their faces inches apart now. While his gaze was locked on her, she hadn’t dared to look up at him.

Gently, she tugged at the ruined leathers, her fingers slipping beneath the material. He raised his arms slightly, grimacing as he did, and she helped guide the leathers over his head, being as careful as possible not to disturb his wings or aggravate his wounds.

Y/n knelt beside him trying to keep her hands steady as she reached for the bandages. As she placed the bandages to his back, she tried not to think about the way his muscles tensed beneath her touch. Each time she moved, their skin brushed. Even though her fingers were cold, as if she had touched ice before handling him, she felt really hot.

Y/n’s voice trembled with barely controlled anger as she finally broke the silence. “You’re reckless”.

Azriel winced as she pulled the bandage tighter “you’re angry” he murmured, his voice strained. His hazel eyes were watching her, following her every movement, watching the way her fingers fumbled with the bandages or the way they gently touched his skin. For a moment he forgot about the pain.

“Of course I’m angry! You could’ve died!” Her voice cracked, a mix of frustration and fear clawing at her throat.

“I promised I’d get your sisters back safely” he replied, his words quiet but firm, as if the pain of his wounds was nothing compared to the weight of the promise he made her.

“You should’ve been more careful. I’m not trading one life for another” her voice dropped as she wrapped the bandage around his torso, her hand brushing the hard ridges of his abdomen as she tightened it. “Lately, you’ve been injured way too often” she muttered, feeling every muscle, every rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. She had to focus on her anger or she’d lose control.

“It’s part of the job” Azriel responded, a soft smile tugging at his lips despite the pain. His wings twitched slightly as her hands skimmed across the sensitive skin near the base of his wings, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he let her work, as if her touch was both grounding and maddening at the same time.

“Your job sucks” Y/n spoke, her voice calmer now, but she was still mad at him.

“It keeps people safe and someone has to do it”.

“Well, if you must do it, then make sure you don’t get yourself killed” she muttered, her eyes sharp as she wrapped another bandage around him.

“I’m trying” he said, his smile growing slightly as he watched her fuss over him.

“Where were your shadows? Couldn’t they protect you?” she asked, her voice softening as concern seeped into her tone.

“It’s more complicated than that”.

“Well, tell them I’m pissed at them, too” a small smile pulled at her lips despite herself.

A soft chuckle escaped Azriel’s lips, the sound was warm and teasing.

“You think this is funny?” she shot him a glare.

“No” he replied, his tone light, “but the shadows do”.

“Tell them if I catch them, I’ll- I’ll shine a light on them or something” she grumbled.

“Alright, alright. No need for violence” he teased, amusement flickering in his eyes.

“Fine, but only because you’re injured”.

“Thank you. I appreciate that”.

“I should be the one thanking you. You brought my sisters back to me, alive. Thank you, Shadowsinger” Y/n said gently, her voice barely more than a whisper. At her words, warmth flickered in Azriel’s shadowed gaze.

When she finished bandaging him, she hesitated, her eyes flickering over his injuries. She wanted to hug him, to reassure herself he was alright, but she was afraid of hurting him in the process. Instead, she leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. Her lips were warm and gentle, and as she pulled away, her heart skipped a beat.

Azriel froze at the contact, his breath catching as his gaze flicked back to hers. The sensation of her lips on his skin was startling, but more than that, it was the tenderness that undid him. She was usually cold, sharp-tongued, always quick to argue or throw up walls between herself and everyone else. He had come to know her as fierce and unyielding, her strength more often shown through defiance than gentleness. But this- this was different. He hadn’t realized she could touch him with such care, with a softness that made the cold distance between them feel like it had vanished. He hadn’t realized she was capable of such gentleness, especially not towards him.

For a moment, neither of them moved, the tension between them thick and electric. His lips parted as if to say something, but before he could, the door to the tent rustled, and Thesan entered, Rhys and the healer at his side.

Y/n quickly stepped back, her heart still racing in her chest, the memory of Azriel’s skin against her lips lingering like a ghost between them “Took you long enough” she blurted, taking out her frustration on the wrong person. She regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth.

“Play nice” Rhys ordered gently, though there was a smile in his eyes.

She muttered an apology to Thesan before stepping back to let him tend to Azriel.

“I’ll see you soon” Y/n turned and quietly left the tent.

When she returned to her tent, she found her three sisters fast asleep, curled up together, their faces peaceful despite everything that had happened. The sight tugged at something deep inside her, something warm, and painfully bittersweet.

She couldn’t remember the last time they’d slept like this. It felt like a distant memory, from a time long before wars, powers, and sacrifices. Not wanting to disturb them, Y/n settled into a chair across from them, watching their steady breaths.

For a moment, her mind quieted, the storm of thoughts fading to a gentle hum. She wanted to capture that moment, to engrave the image of their peaceful faces into her memory forever, hoping the memory of this calm would be enough to carry her through the chaos ahead.

And in the silence, sleep slowly claimed her.

Taglist: @st4r-girl-official @judig92 @5onedirection5 @nayaniasworld @blackgirlmagicforever @stained-glass-eyes0708 @slytherintaco @aehllita @nebarious  @t0uch-starved-h0e @bravo-delta-eccho  @sylvermoon @going-through-shit @latinxbipride @i-am-infinite @azrielrot @fuckingsimp4azriel @theravenphoenix26 @hanatsuki-hime @fantanbietsson @rcarbo1 @weasleymagic

[vlrspace]

nanami kento x reader

ABOUT - nanami meets you again

AN - here’s me trying to find comfort for losing a good man.

“kento?! kento what are you doing here?”

you look at him with wide eyes from the plushy blanket you’re seated on, before you stand up. your white dress is flowing around you as you slowly step into the warm sandy surface, shock evident on your face.

nanami already knows what he’s doing here, but he could care less about the reason why, when he feels warmth spreading across his body at the sight of you. nothing matters to nanami at this moment, he’s finally reunited with you. he doesn’t reply to your question right away, too mesmerised with the view in front of him, he begins to take steps towards you.

you are as pretty as the last time he saw you, your hair is flowing nicely behind you, pretty (e/c) gaze turning into adoration the closer he gets to you. there’s a different glow to you than last time, you’re calmer and more at peace and it makes nanami’s heart ache.

yes, you’re far different than last time and painful memories make it back into nanami’s mind, the ones he oh so desperately tried to get rid of, unsuccessfully.

nanami still vividly remembers the evil curses the two of you have been up against, the fallen debris around you and dark sky above. he’s still able to recall that faithful hit you took for him, sending you into the concrete walls. nanami rushed to you in an instant, frantically looking over your body, a quiet hiccup escaping his throat, you looked beyond saving. there was a huge gush on your chest, with a swiftly pooling blood underneath you, and your face, nanami couldn’t bare to look at you.

you looked so broken and fragile in that moment, a contrast to how you usually carried yourself, strong and bold. your much smaller hands held onto his, calling out his name, forcing him to keep eye contact with you. you constantly coughed blood while talking, reassuring him that everything will be okay and confessing your love for him. nanami watched life leaving your eyes, unable to prevent you from leaving him, regret and hatred filling up his being.

so he moved, fast and furious with his cursed energy, he finished off the enemy without feeling any remorse and as he walked back to your limp body, he lifted you up, with the promise of seeing you again, tears of sorrow flowing down on his cheeks.

he couldn’t tell you how he reciprocated your feelings of love.

and that was four exhausting years ago.

you still look like your 22 year old self, young and beautiful, while he aged a little, body more defined and sharp than it used to be, he looks older than you. it doesn’t matter though, not when he feels your delicate hands on his cheeks, wiping the few tears that escaped his eyes, with a gentle smile spreading across your lips.

nanami is more aware of his surroundings now, the quiet waves of the ocean, the warm breeze of air and the sunlight reflecting on your forms, he feels like he’s finally home. so nanami leans down, pressing his lips to yours lovingly, joy filling him up as feels you kissing him back, one hand on your waist to press you closer to him, the other one finding the soft apples of your cheeks as he leans his forehead against yours.

“i think it was my time to join you here, my love”

@vlrspace 2023

[bardic-tales]

Sephiroth xReader: A brief respite

So, I have been either laid up in bed or on my computer watching cat videos and the like since I have been diagnosis with RSV days ago. Last night was the first day I felt well-enough to interact with anyone, but being stuck in bed is boring. So, I wrote this.

Please excuse any typos or tense changes, as my temp was like 101.8F when I wrote this: from a fevered dream I had and a scribbled note on it in my dream journal. Setting is some time during SOLDIER. Reader (who is me lol) is his love interest and sick as a dog. But it can work for anyone. I try to leave it genderless and raceless so everyone who is or might be sick can feel some sense of comfort. If you ignore the mention of my actual illness in the first paragraph, I am sure it could work with a cold or flu?

Rated: General. There are mentions of illness

Pairing: Sephiroth x genderless reader

The faint glow of the bedside lamp illuminates the room, casting soft shadows across the wall and resembled monsters with endless wings. You lie there: bored and sore. Your chest is tight and throat raw. Your breath comes in shallow, labored wheezes. The oppressive weight of RSV - Respiratory Syncytial Virus - lingers in your lungs and every movement feels like a monumental effort.

Sephiroth sits nearby in a simple wooden chair. His long silvery-grey hair cascades over his shoulders and down his back, pooling off the furniture. The dim light catches the metallic sheen of his pauldrons, and the faint reflection of green materia - healing materia - glimmers on his belt. His bright cyan eyes are focused entirely on you. Their cat-like pupils narrowed slightly with concern and a bit of frustration.

You have refused to let him heal you with his magic: or even take the edge of the pain. You view it as abnormal and wanted a more natural way of healing. So, you lay there. Sweat covered your body in a fine sheen.

"You need to drink more water," he says. His voice is calm and steady with the usual softness that he used with those he cared about. He reached out, offering you a cool glass of water.

You nod -- a weak nod as the simple act of sipping is exhausting -- but it was a nod, non-the-less. He watches you closely, your silent sentinel. The professional he's known for in SOLDIER is tempered here by something more tender, and dare you think more personal.

"I made something for you while you were asleep," Sephiroth says after a moment. He stands. His coat flows behind him as he crosses the small space to the table under the window. When he returns, he's holding a steaming bowl.

Pumpkin soup.

The rich orange color is inviting. As the aroma wafts towards you. It was comforting and familiar. He never really explains to you the reason he loved this type of soup. He only mentions that it had something to do with his mother, but you are always so curious of him and never press him beyond that.

Sephiroth's expression remains stoic, but you know him well enough to see the faint glimmer of hope in his eyes: a desire to help ease your symptoms. He kneels beside the bed, cradling the bowl in one hand and a spoon in the other.

"It's too thick," you rasp, managing a faint smile as your back ached from the movement. Coughing created tight, painful bands of agony across the middle of your back. Each movement felt like your back was on fire.

For a moment, he looks almost sheepish and boyish -- a rare sight, indeed. "I can thin it out," he says. This time his voice is quiet and resolute. But instead of leaving immediately, he sets the bowl aside and reaches out. His fingers brushed against your cheek.

"You're warm," he continues. His hand lingers for a moment before he stands, returning to the kitchen area to adjust the soup.

As he works, you watch him: the strong lines of his back, the fluidity of his movements. It's hard to reconcile the man in front of you with the stories you heard of his exploits in SOLDIER. He's so much more than warrior and the Living Legend the world sees. To you, he's Sephiroth: the man who makes pumpkin soup when you're sick, the man who sits by your bedside, refusing missions that his other 1st comrades are going on, and will not leave until you are feeling better.

When he returns, the soup is thinner and more manageable. He offers a spoonful. Even here, his movements careful and precise. You take a small sip, the warmth spreading through you and your system like a comfortable embrace.

"It's good," you whisper. However, you can barely manage more than a taste.

He doesn't respond immediately, but you could see a subtle shift in his expression: a flicker of relief. He sets the bowl aside again. this time, he is content to just sit by your side.

As the night wore on, your breathing remains strained, but Sephiroth is a constant presence. He reads quietly from a book, the soft timbre of his voice soothing, even if you are too tired to catch all of the words. Every so often, he reaches out to adjust your blanket -- a silver and black blanket with the Shinra emblem stitched in the corner -- or offer you a drink of the cool water.

Eventually, he stands. You hear the soft clink of his pauldrons as he removes them, setting them on the nearby dresser. Opening your eyes slightly, you see him standing there with his long coat brushing the floor as he slips out of it and drapes it over the back of the chair. He is left standing in his black trousers, the leather pad with the Shinra emblem over his stomach, and, of course, the crossed suspenders over his chest.

Sephiroth climbs into bed beside you, careful not to jostle you too much. His arms encircles you gently, pulling you against his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear is a balm against the fever ravaging your body and the discomfort that still lingers.

"You'll feel better soon," he murmurs. His breath stirs tiny wisps of your hair. "I'll make sure of it."

His warmth surrounds you: a steady and unyielding presence against the disease that threatens you. You let yourself relax into the safety of his embrace. Despite the heaviness in your lungs, you feel a small spark of comfort being with this man, knowing that no matter how difficult the night becomes, Sephiroth will be there, holding you close until the morning light.

[starsenha]

[24] ABOUT THE BOY - stupid

synopsis: You were the queen of Decelis University. Everybody worshipped the ground you walked on. You were used to having what you wanted when you wanted it. Until the day when park sunghoon arrived, and things changed. wc: 1,2k tw: talk about strict parenting, just some bother and sister love ig

The chandelier lighting cast a warm glow over the polished marble floors as you and Mingyu stepped into the restaurant. The maître d’ greeted them by name—one of the many perks of being part of a well-known, wealthy family. You were led to a private corner table, away from the prying eyes of the other people. You looked around, taking in the opulence, but your focus was entirely on your older brother. You hadn’t seen him in over five months, and you had missed him terribly.

“Wow, Gyu, this place is even fancier than the last one,” you commented, sliding into the plush seat across from him.

Mingyu smirked, adjusting his cufflinks. “Only the best for my little sister. Plus, I figured you’d appreciate the privacy.”

You smiled, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. Mingyu noticed, of course. He was always good at reading you.

“So,” he started, leaning back in his chair, “it’s been five months, and you’re still as stunning as ever. How’ve you been?”

You shrugged, picking up the menu even though you weren't particularly hungry. “Same old, same old. Just classes, parties, and the usual drama, and father who's been a pain in the ass like usual."

"Did something happen?" Mingyu asked, his brows furrowed with concern.

“He’s been scrutinizing every single thing I do,” you said, your voice tinged with frustration. “It’s like he’s just waiting for me to make a mistake. My grades, the people I hang out with, even the parties I go to—he has something to say about everything. I know he’s always been strict, but it’s suffocating, Gyu.”

"Damn, I'm so sorry yn," he said, his expression soft as he reached across the table to take your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"How is it with you and the company?"

Your brother sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's exhausting. But you know how it is. Father’s been breathing down my neck even more than usual. He’s been putting so much pressure on me about the company lately, and sometimes I feel like I’m just going through the motions, doing what he expects but never what I want."

You looked at your brother, your heart aching for him. Mingyu had always been the perfect son in your father’s eyes—smart, ambitious, and completely dedicated to the family business. But you knew that there was so much more to him than that, and it pained you to see how much of his life was dictated by their father’s expectations.

“Is it really that bad?” you asked softly, knowing that Mingyu rarely opened up about his own struggles.

He sighed, leaning back in his chair as the waiter poured them each a glass of wine. “It’s been worse lately. Father’s been pushing me to take on more responsibility, and he’s made it clear that he expects me to run the company the way he wants, not the way I think is best. I’ve tried to suggest new ideas, new strategies, but he shoots them down every time.”

You frowned, your frustration growing on behalf of your brother. “That’s not fair, Gyu. You’re more than capable of running that company. He should trust you to make the right decisions.”

Mingyu gave you a sad smile, though there was a hint of bitterness in it. “It’s not about trust. It’s about control. He’s always been like that, and I don’t think he’ll ever change. Sometimes, I wonder if I’ll ever really be free to do things my way.”

You could relate all too well. Your father’s controlling nature extended far beyond the business; it seeped into every aspect of your life. You'd always been expected to be the perfect daughter—graceful, poised, and obedient. But the weight of those expectations had become unbearable.

"Enough about that crap, how was your weekend with Heeseung? How is he?" Mingyu asked, just after ordering both your dishes to the waiter.

"It was great. I really needed that, so it felt good. And he's good, same old," you took a sip of the wine.

"What's happening?"

You sighed, putting your glass down. “It’s… it’s complicated.”

“I’ve got time,” Mingyu said, his tone encouraging but firm. “We haven’t seen each other in months. You can’t expect me to sit here and pretend I don’t notice when something’s off with my little sister.”

You took a deep breath, finally meeting his eyes. “It’s about Sunghoon, you know that guy I talked to you about. We were… I don’t even know what we were. But we were close. Then I pushed him away. I told him we weren’t serious, that we weren’t exclusive. And now… I think I messed everything up.”

Mingyu frowned. “Why did you push him away? I thought you liked him.”

“I did—I do. But after what happened with Sunwoo… you know how hard it was for me to get over him, Gyu. I was a wreck for years. I promised myself I’d never let anyone get that close again.”

Mingyu’s expression softened with a mix of empathy and anger. “I should’ve beaten the crap out of Sunwoo for what he did to you. That guy was a total asshole.”

You let out a small laugh, but it was tinged with sadness. “Yeah, well, can't really argue with that. And now I’m scared, Gyu. I’m scared of getting hurt again.”

Mingyu reached across the table, taking your hand in his, once again. He knew it gave you a sense of reassurance when he did that. “I get it. I really do. But, yn, you can’t let one asshole ruin your chance at something real. Love is a beautiful thing, even if it’s scary. And from what you’ve told me, Sunghoon sounds like a good guy.”

“He is,” you admitted, your voice softening. “He’s really good to me. But I don’t know if I’m ready to let my guard down.”

He squeezed your hand. “It’s okay to be scared. But don’t let fear make your decisions for you. If you care about him, you owe it to yourself to see where it goes. Don’t push him away because you’re afraid.”

You nodded slowly, taking in his words. “You’re right. I know you’re right. It’s just… hard.”

“I know, sis,” Mingyu said gently. “But you’re stronger than you think. And you deserve to be happy.”

You smiled, a real smile this time. “Thanks, Gyu. I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Mingyu said, his eyes warm with affection. “And speaking of happiness… there’s something I need to tell you.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? What’s that?”

He leaned back, a hint of a grin playing on his lips. “I’ve been seeing someone. Her name’s Soojin, and… it’s serious.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Soojin? Wow, you never mentioned her before! How serious are we talking?”

“Serious enough that I’m thinking of introducing her to the family soon,” Mingyu admitted, his grin widening.

“That serious?!” You exclaimed, a mix of excitement and shock in your voice. “Gyu, that’s amazing! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me sooner!”

Mingyu chuckled. “I wanted to make sure it was real before bringing it up. But yeah, she’s… she’s incredible. I think you’d really like her.”

“I’m sure I will,” you said, your excitement genuine. “I can’t wait to meet her. You deserve this, Gyu. You deserve to be happy too.”

previous / m.list / next

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[extasiswings]

when the light turns

I still can’t quite believe that 6x12 actually happened/wasn’t some sort of fandom-wide fever dream, but anyway, I was in my Eddie feels so have an interlude fic. 

Buck is asleep.

It brings Eddie up short at first, followed by a wave of fond exasperation.  He takes a swig from one of the open beers in his hands as he looks away, then back again.

Buck is asleep.

That time, the thought rocks him to his core.

He was only out of the room, what?  A minute?  Two?  And yet, that was enough time for Buck to crash so thoroughly that Eddie’s not convinced an explosion would wake him.

On his couch.  In his home.  

Eddie swallows hard around a sudden lump in his throat.

The way Buck looked when he arrived…his eyes were haunted, hunted, exhaustion written across his face and hanging from every line of his body—

Eddie remembers what that’s like.  He remembers all too well the feeling of lying awake staring at the ceiling, unable to quiet his mind, unable to settle, unable to get comfortable, just going and going and going until his body either physically shut down or he managed to relocate somewhere that seemed safe enough that he could rest.

And Buck—Buck came to him.  

He hadn’t expected it.  Hoped, yes.  When Maddie called him and asked him to check on Buck, he hadn’t said no outright, but hadn’t said yes either.  I’ll think about it seemed to strike the appropriate balance between agreeing against his better instincts or having to explain himself to someone who, while he likes her, he doesn’t really know well at all.

And there was also the part where he hadn’t wanted to put his foot in his mouth by admitting that he wasn’t sure her plan was what Buck needed.

He took a different path.  Held back.  Gave Buck space, even if it killed him to do it.  And he hoped that if he just waited patiently, Buck would come to him when he was ready.

He’s never been so glad to have been right.

Eddie takes another drink and looks away again, thinking absently that he should put the second beer back in the fridge, maybe go find Buck a blanket, do anything other than standing there.  But his eyes drift back to Buck as if pulled by a force beyond his control.  They track over Buck’s face, the scruff on his jaw, the rise and fall of his chest—

When Buck was in the hospital, Eddie couldn’t look.  He couldn’t make himself do it, not even knowing that any moment could be the last.  He couldn’t look at Buck hooked up to machines, with a tube in his throat, half a corpse.  He couldn’t face that without shattering.

He’s had plenty of other moments in the past where he couldn’t look either.  Because Buck—god, sometimes he shines so bright, burns so fiercely with warmth and light and life that it’s like looking at the sun.  In those moments, Eddie can’t look directly at him for too long without being afraid of getting seared.

Now though…he can’t seem to look away.  Buck’s usual light has dimmed enough in sleep that he seems…real.  Human.  Touchable.  It makes Eddie’s heart thud in his chest, a wild leap that steals his breath.

He aches.  But it’s not a bad kind of pain, not the sharp slash of terror or the deep, bloody torment of grief.  It’s gentle, like pressing a bruise, the subtle ache of healing.

Or of yearning.

Eddie’s breath shudders out of him in a long, shaky gust.  His fingers curl harder around the beer bottles in his hands, a reminder to himself that they’re already occupied, that he can’t reach out and touch no matter how soft, how approachable Buck may seem.  

There’s a space next to Buck on the couch.  Buck’s arm stretches out along the back of it, and it would be so easy to just sit down, settle into that space.  It would be so simple.  A few steps, a bend of his knees, and Eddie could fit himself right there, into the curve of Buck’s side, press into his warmth and let it chase away the rest of the lingering chill of the hospital.

Easy.

But Eddie doesn’t.  Can’t.

He’s not for you, Eddie scolds himself.  Not like that.

Because Buck will come back from this.  He’ll find his light again, and then he’ll find peace, find ease on some other couch, in some other house, with someone else, someone equally bright who isn’t afraid to love him.  He’ll return to being too much to look at, untouchable, and Eddie will be able to get a grip on himself, find the control that he left on a street somewhere in the dark and pouring rain.

He drinks.  He aches.  He looks.

He should walk away, but can’t seem to get his feet to move.

Not yet.  Not yet.

A line of poetry whispers through his mind as he stops himself from reaching out yet again, something he read years ago that always twists his chest.

Te amo como se aman ciertas cosas oscuras, secretamente, entre la sombra y el alma.

I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

But Buck is all fire and sunlight.  Even at his darkest and most destructive, he never fully loses that spark.

He is not a dark thing.  And he deserves to be loved in the light.  Openly.  Visibly.  Explicitly.  Which…simply isn’t something Eddie thinks he’s capable of giving him.

But, oh.  He aches.

Eddie isn’t sure how long he stands there watching Buck sleep, but it’s long enough to finish both of the beers he brought out.

And then, after one last breath, one last look, he finally unsticks his feet and slips back into the shadows of the kitchen.      

[sequinsmile-x]

Covenant

She knows something is wrong the moment she wakes up. 

Or, Aaron is sick and Emily takes him to the hospital.

-x-

Hi besties,

This is in no way sponsored by my recent stint in the hospital...

But anyway - it's been a while since I wrote some Aaron whump so here we are.

As always let me know what you think <3

-x-

Warnings: pregnancy, sickness, hospitalisation

Words: 3.1k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

She knows something is wrong the moment she wakes up. 

Instead of being woken up by her husband, by his gentle kisses against her forehead or his hand skating up and down her back, she’s woken up by Jack. His hand on her shoulder as he shakes her as gently as he can whilst waking her up.

“Mom,” he says, shaking her again, his face pinched together with worry as she opens her eyes, “Mom, I think Dad is sick.” 

She sits up, her hand on her rounded belly as she frowns at her eldest, her gaze flicking from him to Aaron’s empty side of the bed, the sheets tangled together at the base of it. 

“What do you mean, sweetie?” She asks, checking the time and seeing she should already be up. Aaron would usually have the kids all downstairs and eating breakfast by now. He gave her as much time to sleep as possible, especially now her pregnancy had tipped into her third trimester and her exhaustion had returned with a vengeance, “Where’s your Dad?” She gets an immediate answer when she hears Aaron throwing up in the ensuite bathroom, something that makes her and Jack grimace at the same time as their eyes meet, “Okay, I’ll go check on him,” she says, throwing the covers off her lap, “Thanks for waking me up, kiddo,” she groans as she stands, her hand on her lower back as she chases the ache, “Are your brothers-”

“I gave them cereal,” Jack says, cutting her off with a smile, “And I put on a cartoon to distract them. Want me to keep an eye on them while you check on Dad?” 

She chuckles as she nods, well aware that her almost 3-year-old twins wouldn’t be distracted for long and could cause havoc if they didn’t have supervision. Despite looking exactly like Aaron, Lucas and Oscar were like her through and through. They were wilful and stubborn and pushed every limit they had put in front of them, and she loved them for it. She loved that life hadn’t had the chance to slow them down yet, and she’d do everything she could to protect them from it for as long as possible. Her love for their wildness didn’t stop her from hoping the little girl currently growing beneath her skin was a little more like Aaron and Jack in temperament, sure that another wild toddler in the house would tip them all into a kind of chaos she didn’t think they’d ever recover from. She secretly knew she’d love that too, that this beautifully normal life she’d found was precious beyond words and she’d never let herself forget that - even in the hard moments. 

“Yes please, if you don’t mind,” she replies, running her fingers through his hair, smiling when he steps backwards, his aversion to his parent’s affection something that had kicked in since he recently turned 10, “You’re an amazing big brother, you know that?”

He smiles at her, a spark to it Aaron would always say was all her, “Keep that in mind when you and Dad talk about raising my allowance.”

She chuckles and nods as she watches him go before she turns towards the bathroom. She gives herself a moment to gather herself, ready for a fight with Aaron to make him stay home, sure he’d insist he was fine even though she could hear him throwing up again. 

“Let’s go see what’s wrong with Daddy, sweet girl,” she says as she runs her hand over her bump, smiling when she feels a kick in response. She knocks on the bathroom door before she walks in, concern swooping through her stomach when she sees Aaron sitting on the ground next to the toilet, his skin noticeably paler than usual. When he looks up at her the bags under his eyes make her wince, something she knows is pain laced throughout his features even though he’d deny it in a second. 

“I’m fine,” he says, as predictable to her as their children, and he winces as he stands up, his hand on the right side of his abdomen as he straightens out. 

“Clearly,” she deadpans, walking over to place her hand on his forehead. He bats her away, something he only ever did when he was sick, and she rolls her eyes, the brief touch of her skin against his enough to confirm what she already knew just by looking at him, “You have a fever.” 

He sighs and walks past her, his hand skimming the counter to support his weight in a way he hopes she won’t notice, “Em-”

“Can we just skip this whole part, honey?” She asks, her hands on her hips as she raises an eyebrow at him, “I am far too pregnant and too tired to go through all of this when we both know I’ll convince you to stay home from work anyway,” she steps towards him and reaches out for his hand, linking their fingers together as a smile flickers across her lips, “I’ll stay home with you. I’ll call Jess and ask if she can take the boys to school and daycare…we could just hang out in bed together all day.” 

It’s his turn to raise his eyebrow at her, her attempt at flirting with him as obvious as it was successful, “You’re trying to manipulate me.” 

She smiles, her tongue pressed against the back of her teeth, “Is it working?” She teases, and he laughs, but it immediately turns into a groan, his hand darting to his right side again as he leans against the counter. She steps towards him and places her hand on his elbow, concern flaming in her gut, “Honey-”

“You’re right, I should stay home.” 

She knows what he’s doing, that he’s trying to deflect her ever increasing worry by agreeing to her terms so far, and she squeezes his elbow, “I’m starting to think I should take you to the hospital,” she says, touching his forehead again, his skin much warmer than usual, “Something’s obviously wrong.” 

“I’ll be fine, sweetheart,” he says, “I’ve caught something from one of the boys - that’s all. I’ll be better after I rest.”

She sighs and reluctantly nods, aware this wasn’t a battle she wanted to have with the boys in the house, that it was something she’d broach again when they were alone if he continued to get worse. 

“Okay, you get into bed,” she says, smiling tightly as she leans in to kiss his cheek. She loops her arm through his as they walk back to the bedroom, his lack of complaint about her helping him making her just as worried as the pallor of his skin. “And once Jess has picked up the boys I’ll come to check on you.” 

He nods and barely hides a groan as he sits down, capturing her hand in his as she tries to step away, an attempt at a playful smirk painted across his face, “I was promised snuggling in bed with my beautiful wife if I agreed to stay home.” 

She hums and raises her eyebrow at him, allowing herself a moment of levity in what she already knew would end up being a difficult day, “I said nothing about snuggling.” 

___

He somehow gets worse.

He doesn’t try and hide the pain he’s clearly in from her anymore, and the Tylenol she makes him take does nothing for his fever. His complete lack of argument about going to the hospital when she brings it up again is what worries her the most, fear that turns into anger when he tries to get into the driver's seat of their car, his expression indigent until she tells him off and herds him to the passenger seat. 

The nurse at the ER desk thinks it’s Emily who is the patient, her eyes fixed on her bump just long enough that she initially misses that Aaron looks like he’s at death's door. Once Emily insists she’s fine and points at Aaron the nurse's eyes go wide and she gets them into a side room whilst they wait for a doctor. 

“I’ll be fine, Em,” Aaron says, his voice rough, pain laced through each syllable as he reaches for her hand. His soft smile and the way he links his fingers with hers, his thumb rubbing against the heel of her hand, are what make her realise she’s been biting her cuticles, bright red dots of blood standing out against her shredded skin, “They’ll probably just send us home with some meds.” 

She hums, not sure that she agrees, and she kisses his knuckles, “We’ll see.” 

It isn’t long before a doctor joins them, her smile kind and reassuring as she closes the door behind them. She introduces herself as Doctor Harmon and examines Aaron, nodding to herself when she presses on his abdomen and he winces before she tells them that she’s going to perform an ultrasound to confirm her suspicions. It’s only when Emily is sitting next to the gurney Aaron is on, one hand in his and the other on her bump, that the slight absurdity of it makes her laugh, drawing the attention of Aaron and the doctor towards her. 

“Sorry,” she says, clearing her throat, nodding down towards her belly, and then to the probe pressing into Aaron’s abdomen, “It’s just usually this happens the other way around.” 

Doctor Harmon smiles, “Is this your first?” 

Emily shakes her head, squeezing Aaron’s hand when he groans when the probe presses on a particularly sore spot, “No, we have three boys at home. Our oldest is 10, and then we have twins who are almost 3.” 

“Oh wow,” she replies, turning her attention to the screen, “You have your hands full. Do you know what you’re having this time?” 

“A girl,” Emily says, her smile wide, “It will balance things out a little.” 

Aaron chuckles, the sound lost to a sucked in breath as he continues to try to cover the pain he's in, “You say that like Lucas and Oscar aren’t exactly like you.” 

She narrows her eyes playfully and somehow for a moment she forgets where they are, it’s just the two of them, everything but them and their love for each other fading away, “My little boys are perfect, thank you very much.” 

“Exactly,” he says, “Like I said - just like you.” 

Usually, she’d roll her eyes at him, or tell him he was corny and ridiculously sweet, two things she would have once believed he wasn’t capable of, but she’s cut off when the doctor politely clears her throat to remind the couple that she’s in the room. Emily briefly hates her job, hates that she can tell that something is wrong just because of the way Doctor Harmon folds her hands in her lap and the way her brows pinch together. Emily squeezes Aaron’s hand, not sure if she’s offering comfort or she’s seeking it out, and she’s grateful when he squeezes back - even if it isn’t with as much strength as usual. 

“It’s as I expected,” Doctor Harmon says, “Your appendix is inflamed and we’re going to have to take it out.” 

Emily swallows thickly, and any attempt at logic flies out the window. Spencer had told her the statistics on a long flight home from a case once. He’d told her how appendectomies were one of the most common surgical procedures in the world, and that the mortality rate was exceptionally low. She knew that. She’d watched enough medical procedures and soap operas to know that. But none of it matters now it’s Aaron who’ll be going through it, the thought of her husband, the love of her life, having any kind of surgery - no matter how minor - was terrifying. 

“He needs surgery?” She chokes out, only aware of how scared she sounds when Aaron squeezes her hand and Doctor Harmon’s smile turns sympathetic. 

“It’s a very safe and common procedure,” she assures Emily, “You’ll even have him home in a day or so,” she turns to Aaron, “I’ll speak to our on call general surgeon and get them to come to speak to you in case you have any questions, okay?” 

He nods, “Okay, thank you.”

The moment they are alone, a breath shudders all the way through Emily, catching on her ribs and making her chest ache as she shakes her head at herself, “Damn it,” she says, wiping tears from her cheeks that she’s furious at herself for, “I should have brought you here earlier. I knew something was wrong the moment I saw you this morning.”

“Em-”

“You need surgery, Aaron,” she says, “What if…” she shakes her head again and blows out a slow breath, “You’re sick.”

“Hey,” he says, groaning when he sits up, pain that he ignores lancing through him as he cups her cheek. She stands up and sits on the edge of his bed and gets as close as she can, desperate to feel the comfort that always came with his proximity, “I’m going to be okay,” he wipes another tear from her cheek, “It’s going to be okay.” 

She chokes on a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob, “You’re the one having surgery,” she says, her lower lip trembling, “I’m sure that means I should be comforting you.” 

“You’re 7 months pregnant, baby,” he says, kissing her forehead, “And even if you weren’t, I think it’s okay to be upset about your husband having surgery.” 

She nods, leaning forward so her forehead is resting against his, “I love you.” 

“Love you too.” 

She pulls back to look at him and runs her fingers through his hair, concentrating on the softness of it, of the familiar feeling of it passing across her skin, “You…” she clears her throat, “You can’t die on me and leave me to raise four kids on my own, okay?” She says, her chin trembling as she tries to stop herself from crying any more, “If you do, I’ll have to kill you.” 

He nods and leans in to kiss her, “I promise.” 

___

She hates the familiarity of it, hates that she already knows what it’s like to sit by his hospital bed and wait for him to wake up. 

She feels like a different woman from the one who had sat by his bed when she found him after Foyet’s attack, and in some ways she was. She’d died since then. She’d rebuilt her life from the ashes of her old one and it had grown in ways he could never have anticipated. Seeds of hope and love flowering over time. Back then, she’d been an agent, but she hadn’t been a wife and a mother too. Hadn’t gone through the fear of wondering if her life would have room for everything she wanted, only to learn it would grow around everything she planted. 

When she’d last sat at his bedside Aaron had just been her boss who she’d had a hideously inappropriate crush on, something she refused to admit was love even to herself stuffed as far down as she could get it. Now he was her husband. The man she loved beyond all measure and the father of her children. He’d been changed by their family too. Made softer. Although, she knew the softness had always been there, hidden underneath guilt and loss. The hard shell he’d built around it slowly chipped away by her and their children, by soft kisses and hugs and the innocent laughter from the boys. 

She always liked to think that they’d saved each other. That they’d taught each other it was okay to love again. To be happy again. 

“Em?” 

She’s pulled out of her thoughts at the sound of his voice, rough from sleep and pain, and she smiles, immediately standing from her chair to sit on the edge of his bed, both of her hands wrapped around one of his, “Hi, honey.” 

He blinks several times to clear his vision, “Em?” 

She smiles at the repetition of her name and she kisses his knuckles, finally drawing his attention towards her, “It’s me, baby,” she says, kissing his knuckles again, pressing their joint hands against her cheek to feel the warmth of his skin against her, “It’s your Em.” 

He smiles at her, his eyes wide and bleary from all the medication he was on, “I kept my promise.” 

She chuckles and nods, squeezing his hand as she shifts closer, “You did,” she says, leaning in to brush his hair from his forehead, “Now I don’t have to kill you.” 

He tries to kiss her but misses, his lips catching the corner of her lips instead, “You okay?” 

She hums and takes pity on him, stamping her lips against his, “You’re the one who just had your appendix removed, I’m fine” she says, unable to hide a grunt as she sits back up, her hand landing on her belly, “That chair has done a number on my back, though.” 

“You should go home,” he says, stroking his thumb back and forth on her wrist, “Sleep in our bed.” 

She nods, “I’ll go when visiting hours end in 30 minutes,” she presses her lips together, “I don’t like the idea of leaving you here alone.” 

He encourages her closer, kissing her cheek and then her nose, “I’ll be okay, sweetheart,” he assures her, “Besides,” he smirks, “Jess will need rescuing from the boys.” 

She laughs and nods, “She can hold her own,” she replies, her smile soft, “I wonder how many mini Hotchners I’ll have in my bed tonight to fill the big Hotchner’s gap.” 

He squeezes her hand, “I’d bet all of them.” 

“Me too,” she says, blowing out a slow breath as she allows herself to enjoy the peace of just being with him after a long day of worrying she might just lose him no matter what the odds were. After all, luck had never been something that had treated either of them kindly, “Promise me something?” 

He smiles, “Again?” His smile gets wider when she glares playfully at him, “Always.”

“No more hospital visits for a while,” she says, and he raises an eyebrow at her and looks pointedly at her rounded belly. She laughs and places a hand on her bump, “Okay, no more non-baby-related hospital visits for a while,” she corrects and he nods, his hand tight around hers. 

“I promise.” 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unexpected 34

Sequel to Unsolicited

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, pegging, Lloyd being the worst, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You used to long for lazy days. When you worked twelves and barely had enough time for sleep in between. After a week of lazy days, bound to the bed by back pain and Lloyd's overly mindful nagging, you are desperate to be mobile. At least he dropped the hospital thing after you told him no ten times.

You feel freer and looser. See, it always passes. You know your body. Even if it's changed beyond recognition, even as your tits balloon up and your stomach grows rounder by the day.

Besides, you don't go far from bed. The trip down to the sofa is enough to drain you. You lower yourself with a book and some fruity iced tea. The late spring light shines in and hints at the looming arrival of summer.

You're almost finished the book. A feat you've not made in years. You never had time to get past the third chapter but this one hand you by the throat from page one. You quickly lose yourself in the words, the pages open with the bottom of the spine propped up on your stomach.

The soft rustle of leaves and the song of birds adds to the calm hue of the day. It's almost too peaceful. In this house, that's rarely a good side. Something is always set to break the monotony. Rather, someone. 

"There you are, peaches," Lloyd purrs coyly, "elusive as ever."

You don't look away from the book as you hear him behind you. You hum in response and restart the sentence. He comes nearer, his shadow looming over you as you try to keep your focus.

"What's up, baby cakes?" He massages your shoulders as he lurks behind the couch. 

"Reading."

"Boring," he says as he bends down, his lips brushing your hair, "come on, put the book down."

"I'm almost done, you can bother me after."

He huffs. You can practically hear the mope. He pushes away from the sofa and his feet slap on the floor. His figure blurs above the top of the pages as you sense him watching you. 

You try to ignore him. You squint until your brows hurt. You scowl and lower the book.

"Lloyd, please, I–"

You quiet as you get a good look at him. He wears only a black thong, his erection obvious as it's barely restrained by the fabric. You scoff as he flexes and turns, showing you his and the straps that angle at a slant.

He slaps his own ass as he poses for you. You gape, dumbfounded.

"What on earth–"

"Look, I'm not gonna lie, I'm desperate for you, doll face. This thing's tight as ballskin."

"I… I don't even know what to say to that."

"Look, sugar tits," he puts his hand on his hip, "you don't gotta say nothing but we both know once you get the strap on, you know exactly what to say."

'Not right now," you snort, "are you serious? I'm pregnant. Very pregnant."

"It'll fit under, I looked it up." He comes closer and reaches to wiggle free the book from your grasp, "tell me you haven't been dreaming of shoving something up my ass."

"No, because I know you enjoy it too much."

"Bah, baby," he shuts the book and tosses it aside, "it'll loosen us both up."

He takes your hands and pulls you to your feet. You narrow your eyes as his gaze slips from them. His brows raise slightly and he runs his touch along your stomach to cup your tits.

"Wow, I did not think these things could get better," he squeezes and you hiss.

"Ow," you slap his hands, "they're tender."

"They're fucking glorious. Shit, my dick is aching. I think it's gonna split if you don't start fucking me soon."

"That would be wonderful. Save us both a lot of trouble in the future."

"God, I love how you play hard to get," he groans and fondles your tits again, "maybe I should just titty fuck you then. That's always fun…"

"I'd rather the strap," you shove him away, "fine, if I do it, can I finish my book?"

"Right now I'm giving you permission to do anything you want to me, and after, you can go ahead and do whatever you want by yourself."

"Mmm, fair trade," you reach down and flick the leather at the front of the thong, "come on then, let's get it over with."

He winces and cups his crotch. It doesn't deter him though as he waves his other hand past you, "ladies first."

You hear the grit in his voice and it's enough to content you. You should take whatever chance you get to cause him some pain, even if in the end he likes it.

You round the couch and go out into the entryway. You take your time on the stairs. Not just because of your belly but because you can sense his impatience. He squeezes your ass as he follows you.

"God, I love this ass," he snarls, "mmm, the juiciest peach of all."

"You're so lame," you say breathless as you reach the top.

"For you, yeah," he snickers and strides ahead of you.

You trail him as he leaves the bedroom door open. As you get to the room, he has the strap ready to go. You roll your eyes but undress.

"I still don't think it will fit."

"Make it fit," he insists as he untangles it.

You unclasp your bra and take off the pregnancy belt. You groan at the ache in both breast and belly. You grab onto his shoulder and step into the harness.

He pulls it up and slides the curved end into your cunt. You twitch as he secures the straps beneath your bump. You didn't expect this to be more than a honeymoon thing but it's better than him trying to break your back.

He stands straight and looks you up and down. He brings his hands to either side of your belly and bends forward to kiss it. You wince as he keeps his head close to your bump. 

“Look kid, you’re gonna have to close your ears for this one–”

“Ew!” You swat his head, “Lloyd, don’t.”

“Well?!” He stands and rubs his head, “I don’t wanna traumatize our kid.”

“Jesus, shut the fuck up. The kid won’t know–”

“Okay, at least I tried to be considerate.”

“Is that even a thing for you?”

He grimaces and shakes his head, “keep being such a bitch and I’m gonna cum before you even get the tip in.”

You give him a look but can’t resist how your insides flutter. The fullness in your cunt isn’t helping either. You really could use a nice orgasm to loosen up the last of the tension.

“Get on the fucking bed,” you point behind him.

“Yes, mistress,” Lloyd nearly dances before he turns around. “I’ll be a good slave boy.”

“Let’s not say that again,” you follow him as he hooks his thumbs in the sides of his thong.

“Nope, keep that on,” you order and smack his ass.

“Yes!” He gets on his knees and grabs the bottle on the bed. He holds it over his shoulder and you take the lube as he gets into position, “fuck, peaches, were you always such a domme?”

“Be quiet,” you pinch him and feel the strap angled along his cheek. You ooze out the lubes and let it run down in the crack of his ass. He’s almost shaking in excitement. “Don’t,” you warn as you notice his hand trail under him. “Don’t even think of touching yourself.”

“Yes, mistress,” he puts his hand flat with the other.

You stand on your toes and push the tip down between his cheeks. You glide it through the lube, spreading it around his hole. He groans as you prod him teasingly. You lean in just a little but relent, doing it over and over until he whimpers.

“Please just fuck me.”

You laugh and ease into him. Just the tip. He shudders and leans back into you. You grab the straps of the thong and push him off.

“Uh uh,” you tisk. “Turn over.”

He hesitates but obey. He lays on his back, his face flushed and his eyes sparkling. He brings his legs up, splaying himself for you as he clutches his thighs. You guide the toy down beneath him as his dick pokes slightly out of the thong. 

You dip into him steadily until you reach the limit. It jolts the toy inside you and a trickle flows into your core. You rock back and watch his stomach clench. You grasp the thong with one hand as you start to fuck him. It slips further down, revealing half his length. 

You watch how his throat bobs, his still unshaven stubble poking out across his chin and cheeks. He shakes each time you thrust. The sight of his pleasure is almost as intoxicating as your own mounts.

You tilt again and again. Losing yourself to your desire. Fuck, you feel it building in you, the tight coil spinning and spinning. You slam into him harder as you get closer and you brace his hip. You’re out of breath, your legs shaky.

You moan as he reaches to touch your hand. He quakes and lets out a guttural growl, “I’m gonna cum, baby.”

He grunts and spasm, his hole tightening around the toy as he babbles and slaps his hand against the bed. He cums with a strangled cry that sounds as stunned as it is delighted. His cum ribbons up his stomach as you bite your lip.

Your own climax crashes upon you swiftly but is cut short but a sudden zap up your spine. Fuck. You lean against him, keeping the weight off your stomach as you almost collapse. You spread your hand over his chest as you push your knees against the bed.

“Help!” You murmur.

[evilkennedy]

hold me close

pair: lethan; leon kennedy/ethan winters

summary: based on this post : https://www.tumblr.com/crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington/722857634630434816/bug-all-posts-for-this-au-will-be-under-the-tag by @crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington

word count: 1.8k

4:28 am; Leon blinked blearily at his phone, having woken up to the sound of frantic little knocks against his bedroom door. His head swam as he reluctantly sat up, the liquor from hours before still having its effect on his aching body as he tossed his phone back onto his unmade bed with a groan. Another set of small raps sounded from his door, making him speed up the process of getting out of bed. It was so late and the sound could have only been coming from Ethan. He tried to consider what could be wrong, but nothing formulated in his sleep-addled and tipsy mind. He was just annoyed at having been woken up in the first place, bare feet padding against the cold ground as he finally opened the door, a bit harsher than he’d meant to. He squinted at the blonde, dark circles undoubtedly making him look exhausted as he reprimanded his new roommate, “Do you know what time–”

“I know! I know, I’m sorry, I really am, I just– You know I wouldn’t bother you unless it was for something really important and uhm, there’s a… there’s a bug in my room.” Ethan finished off lamely. As he’d been speaking Leon being ever the observant agent noticed the way he trembled, even in the dim lighting of the hallway. He was paler than usual, which was saying something since he was already relatively pale naturally and he was sure that if he could see him better, he’d be sweating. The way he fiddled with his hands gave away the extent of his fear and Leon felt his heart ache for him. He was all too familiar with a reaction like this, but for some reason it hurt to see it coming from Ethan… it was like looking into a mirror.

“And- and I know it’s stupid, trust me, I know. I’m sorry. I know you don’t really like me and I know we promised to just stay out of each other’s way but I really– I just, I can’t. I k- know it won’t hurt me and it’s just a bug but I– it's– I don’t–” Leon cut off the man’s rambling, unable to bear it any longer. He might not have known every little detail about Ethan’s escapades in both Dulvey and Romania, but he didn’t have to. At least not to understand the way it still deeply affected him. He could see it in the way he held Rose so tightly and in the way he often woke up from yelling in his sleep, having to console his daughter soon after. He sympathized more than anyone ever could, so beyond the exhaustion he felt and perhaps even the slightest bit of exasperation, he softened, sighing before he spoke, “Where’s the bug.”

Ethan stopped his rambling with a surprised, “Huh,” deep brown irises even darker when contrasted against bloodshot eyes, lower lip trembling as he attempted to keep the tears at bay. Leon felt as though a stake through the heart would be less painful than the sight of Ethan in such distress, a bit melodramatic, he was aware, but as his chest clenched painfully and his stomach twisted from more than just sympathy– He knew he couldn’t acknowledge it in any other way. That fondness could be dangerous, tangible in the air between them and enough to swallow Leon whole if he thought about it for too long. Ethan was someone he was meant to protect. Nothing more.

“Where’s the bug?” He repeated again, patience waning thin at his own thought processes, but never at the other’s desperation. Still, he wouldn’t recognize the difference, so Leon schooled his tone as best as he could.

“It’s.. It’s above my bed. Thank you.” Ethan breathed a sigh of relief, though his state hadn’t gotten any better. Leon’s concern remained apparent and nagging, he wanted nothing more than to wrap the other in his arms until he felt safe again, but that would certainly be crossing lines he couldn’t cross. He placed his hand on the man’s shoulder in passing, “Don’t worry. It’s nothing.” He reassured, small smile on his face as Ethan leaned into the touch subconsciously, thanking him once again. He tried not to let the touch linger longer than it had to, or to appreciate the way his eyelashes looked, even in the faint lighting of the hall, he could still see how long they were. He couldn’t help but think about how unfairly beautiful they were, even as he pulled away and began his trek to the second room of the hall, an anxious Ethan in tow to presumably show him where the bug had been.

Leon entered the room first, though when he did, he didn’t see a bug anywhere. He didn’t want to alarm Ethan by saying it might have moved somewhere else, but before he could say anything at all, he was behind him, eyes frantically searching the ceiling and the walls of his room. “N-No! It was there, on my ceiling.” He pointed to where it had been, breathing picking up as he began to panic once again despite the quiet decibel his voice remained at. Surprisingly, Rose didn’t stir, even as Ethan started rubbing at his bare arms, eyes finding Leon’s as he trembled, legs threatening to give out. “I can’t- I can’t–” The agent was quick to respond, moving the two steps he needed to to close the distance between them, sleep no longer plaguing his mind but his own panic instead.

“Hey, can I touch you? Look at me, Ethan.” He held his hands up placatingly, concerned by the way unseeing eyes met his own with a nod. “Okay.” He breathed, placing Ethan’s hand on his chest, beginning to exaggerate his own, much calmer, breathing. “Breathe with me, okay? Can’t have you passing out on me.” He didn’t respond, but he could feel and see the way he was attempting to match his breathing, even though it was an obvious struggle.

“Good, you’re doing so good.” He praised gently, heart threatening to plummet through his stomach or leap right out of his chest with the way he suddenly felt so connected to the other, the unfamiliarity of it all overwhelmed his senses, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. So long as Ethan was okay.

The blonde nodded, slowing his breathing as much as he could while the trigger was still nowhere to be seen, presumably lurking in the shadows and waiting to strike. Leon thought for a few moments as they stood there, the atmosphere around them more intimate than he could have expected himself to allow.

“You can sleep in my room tonight, okay? You and Rose, give the bug some time to get out of here. You need the sleep.” His tone left no room for arguments, Ethan had been having a rough time since it hadn’t been too long after Romania that Chris had set up this little arrangement for them. More often than not, he didn’t sleep, whether it be because of the memories that plagued his own psyche or having a baby daughter that is struggling just as much and unable to understand it like Ethan could. He deserved a break, no matter how Leon felt about him. He’d push away whatever he had to to make things right, pretend to hate him if it meant he and Rose could be safe.

Ethan seemed to consider this for a few moments, aware of their proximity now that he was coming back to himself, brows furrowed as he responded, “Where will you sleep?”

Honestly, Leon hadn’t considered that himself, but he’d be more than fine sleeping on the couch. “I’m good on the couch.”

Finally the brunette let go of Ethan’s hand as the trembling slowed to a minimum and he was no longer on the verge of passing out, though it was done hesitantly. The other looked as though he wanted to say something in response, but he didn’t, instead just giving a curt nod and an okay in response.

The pair and Rose made their way back to Leon’s room, somehow the baby hadn’t woken up through the entire ordeal, which they were both grateful for. As much as Ethan needed the rest, Leon wasn’t entirely confident in his babysitting skills, so they’d have been screwed. The agent tried his best not to hover too closely to Ethan, but his concern was still palpable, practically oozing from him in waves as he followed him across the hall, watching as he and Rose settled back down in his room. He was grateful that he looked substantially more relaxed laying in his bed, simultaneously reveling in the way he looked like he belonged there. Dangerous thoughts for him to have, but if he indulged privately just this once, no one had to know. He looked cute, hair all ruffled from sleep and cheeks tinged pink from the tears. He wished he could blame the alcohol for this line of thought, but the buzz was long gone now.

Still, he hesitated, Ethan looked like there was still something on his mind and he didn’t want to leave until he was sure that the younger man was alright. “Alright?” Leon asked, voice no longer rough from disuse, but much softer.

“Actually…” He paused, shaking his head as though to rid himself of whatever he’d been meaning to ask. “Nevermind. Yeah, I’m good. Thank you, Leon.”

He hesitated, still standing at the threshold of his room, fingers itching to be back on Ethan again. How ridiculous of him to get so attached so soon. It had only been a month.

“Are you sure? I could stay. If you need.” He wasn’t sure what had possessed him to make the offer, perhaps the overwhelming worry he still felt, wanting the man to get at least one good night’s sleep if he could help it.

There wasn’t a moment of hesitation in Ethan’s response, “Please. If you don’t mind.” He fiddled with his fingers again, something else that Leon found endearing as he stepped fully into the room, closing the door behind him. He didn’t say a word as he made his way to the other side of his bed, sitting up against the headboard so that he wouldn’t make the other uncomfortable.

“Do you want the bedside light on?” He spoke, voice barely above a whisper so as to not break whatever bubble had formed around them in the silence of the night.

“No. It’s okay. Thank you. Again.” Feeling bold, Leon found his hand from beneath the blankets, interlocking their fingers when he didn’t feel Ethan hesitate, in fact, he reciprocated the touch easily, welcoming it.

“Goodnight, Ethan.” He didn’t feel the need to say anything in response to the thanking, knowing now that he’d probably do the same for him if given the chance.

“Goodnight, Leon.” Whether that moment would be left as a secret within the blankets of Leon’s bed, succumbing to the indulgences of nightly intimacy come daybreak, they would wake in the safety of each other.

a/n: I am so beyond obsessed with this au so expect more tbh. I love lethan so very much no one can take them away from me

[bluuedraws]

Chapter one is finished! I’m not providing a synopsis because the chapter is pretty telling of what the story will be like, along with the tags.

I hope you enjoy the ride, as I had a lot of fun writing it! Keep in mind this is my first fanfic I’ve ever published publicly, so please be patient. These are new grounds for me :)

Chapter One

Grian runs.

He’s been running for a long time, but never has he sprinted so hard and so fast, his muscles burning, his legs aching with every stride he took. His lungs scream for air as he gasps, the cold air searing his throat as he pumps his arms even harder. The constant pain in his wings aren’t helping him concentrate on running, either. They’re badly bruised, rendering him unable to fly. And never before has Grian been so desperate to take to the air. Behind him, he hears nothing but the swaying branches and the leaves crunching under his feet. It’s eerily silent, shrouded with a deceiving quiet that only strikes more fear into Grian’s heart.

How have they found him so quickly?

They’d only been on the server for a couple of months. Everyone was still deep into their projects, Scar expanding his ever growing Swaggon business, Impulse adding details to his factory, Mumbo doing whatever Mumbo did, Pearl creating gorgeous builds… It wasn’t time to end this season. Not even close. They should have had more than a few more months before they caught up with him.

Grian’s body is burning now, more exhausted than he’s ever felt. He’s pushing himself far beyond his limits, and he still isn’t sure it’ll be enough. He just has to make it to Boatem… There, he can warn his friends, and they can flee the server as they always did when they inevitably caught up with him. Grian thought he had mastered this endless chase through worlds, thought he could stay one step ahead of them. But despite his efforts, he’s failed.

The ground is getting smoother and more worn down beneath his feet as he springs on. A good sign, it means he’s growing ever closer to civilization. He’s so tired, his legs numb and feet barely functioning. Almost there, just a little longer…

WHAM!

Grian smashes to the ground, barely managing to catch himself before smacking his face into the dirt. His foot’s caught on something, his exhaustion finally taking him down. Stumbling to his feet, he continues on, but now he can sense something behind him. They’re even closer now.

Finally, finally, Grian spots the familiar sight of the Boatem hole, a strange stack of boats and various items sitting precariously over a deep hole that lead to the void. By some miracle, all of his friends are sitting around it, engaged in conversation. He can save them, if only he can convince them in the minutes he had left before they caught up.

He can convince them.

He has to.

“…and then Grian unfroze midair and asked me what I was doing. It scared the heck out of me!” Scar is laughing, obviously telling some story to the group. Whatever it was cracks them up, and they’re all clutching their stomachs, laughing as Scar buries his head in his hands in fake embarrassment. Grian skids to a halt in front of them, hands on his thighs, gasping for air.

Scar turns to him, a smile spreading across his face as he greets the newcomer. “Well, speak of the devil! Grian, I was just telling them about-”

“(Gasp!) Scar, stop! They’re here, th—(Gasp!)—they’re coming! We need to leave!” Grian cuts him off, fumbling his words as he desperately tries to get them to understand what had happened. Scar’s face drops from his usual lopsided grin to a worried frown, and he reaches out to grab Grian’s shoulder in support. The others look on inquisitively. “Woah, Grian, buddy, calm down a sec. Take a moment to breathe, you’re exhausted-” Scar moves to let him take a seat next to him, but Grian waves him off.

“T-there’s no time, don’t you see?! (Gasp!) They- (Gasp! )they’ve caught up with us! W-we need to go, change servers, or it’s- it’s all over!”

The world is spinning and blurring around him, and hazy shapes seem to surround him as muffled voices call his name. <<Grian! Grian, are you ok?>>

<<Oh god, what happened to his wings?>>

They’re concerned, but not for the right reasons. They need to go, to run, not check on him!

<<What happened? What’s wrong?>>

<<How can we help?>>

No, it’s going all wrong. They don’t know the danger, don’t know what to do. Grian hasn’t told them, couldn’t tell anyone without putting them in danger. But he guesses it doesn’t matter anymore. There was no avoiding it, because despite his efforts, his friend’s are still in mortal peril.

Grian feels himself sink to his knees as the world tilts alarmingly. He feels nauseous, but he fights it. He needs to get the words out, or else it’s all over.

He manages one word before he feels them arrive.

“RUN!”

…

The world turns cold.

The wind stops blowing. His friends grow quiet and still.

Grian opens his eyes.

Everything has stopped. The grass no longer sways in the wind, the clouds are still above their heads. And, the most horrifying of all, his friends are frozen. Scar has his arm on Grian’s shoulders, his face covered in anxiety and concern. Impulse and Mumbo are crowded around him, tense and unsure of what to do. But worst of all is Pearl. She stands slightly farther back, but unlike the others, her eyes aren’t trained on Grian. She’s looking over his shoulder, fixated on something behind him. And she looks terrified.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Grian pushes himself up off the ground (gently brushing Scar’s arm off his shoulder in the process), and turns.

And the monster stares back.

Just like that, the world is gone. He’s floating in a vast purple void, alone with the one he’s been running from for years.

It’s a humanoid figure, cloaked in grey cloth and deathly silent. When it raises its head, Grian can’t see anything. It’s too shrouded in shadow to make out.

No. No, no no no no. This can’t be happening. It can’t end like this. Grian won’t let it. If he can’t save himself, he’ll at least save his friends.

He clenches his fists against his sides, his fear turning to hot, boiling rage, bubbling against his throat as the figure looks on, silent. Now that the worst has actually happened, Grian finds himself filled with unexpected bravery. After all, what does he have to lose?

“Leave them alone!” Grian spits at the thing, the years of barely contained fury finally boiling over. He arches his wings over his head in an effort to look more intimidating, ignoring the pain that seares through his bones. “It’s me you want, not them! I’ll go with you, do whatever you want, just leave. Them. Be!”

Grian knows that they work in strange ways. They can’t forcefully take him. He must agree of his own will first. But that doesn’t stop them from making his life hell. They have enormous power, and don’t care who they kill along the way.

Grian waits for an answer.

The silence seems to stretch forever.

But then the thing laughes. It’s a cold, calculating chuckle that chills Grian to the bone.

“Oh, little one. What a silly request you make.”

He holds his stance, watching the figure in front of him. It still doesn’t move.

“What we want is far from just you. You may be the key, but there are many more doors to open.”

Fingers turn to claws as he digs them into his palms, anger reverting back to horror. He chooses his next words carefully, attempting to hide the quiver in his voice.

“What will you do?”

It watches him. It’s been watching him for as long as Grian knows.

“That entirely depends on you, my friend.”

The word “friend” has a hint of malice etched into it, a stinging threat that hangs above them. They are not friends. Never have been.

“We are more merciful than you know. And so, we offer you a deal.”

A deal. That doesn’t sound good. A deal with them never goes well. Grian knows that more than anyone.

“We won’t follow you or your friends anymore. We’ll leave you be forever. No more running, no more hiding. No more living in constant fear.”

His breath catches in his throat. This was too good to be true. Too wonderful of a thought to possibly be real.

He waits for the other shoe to drop.

“But to receive this, you must pass out tests.”

Oh no.

“We have many trials for you to overcome. If you face them all, and win, you may receive our blessing. And if not… we take you and your companions.”

There it is. No gift ever comes for free, not when they’ve been hunting him for years. Not when he’s escaped every trap, every plan they’ve made to capture him.

This is all another ploy. Another mind game to try and get him on their side. Grian isn’t dumb, and he won’t let himself fall for it.

…But oh, it is tempting. Behind his outer confidence, Grian can feel the exhaustion lurking behind his eyes. He can feel the years of stress and fear in ever muscle, every bone. To be relieved of this burden would mean everything.

But suspicion is clouding his thoughts. Something is very wrong.

If he agrees to this, and fails, he can’t backout. A deal is an agreement and is just as binding, magic wise.

But he’s so tired. So tired of putting everyone he loves in constant danger, so tired of keeping them in the dark.

And so, he makes a decision.

“I accept on one condition. I will take your tests, and pass without fail. But in the event I do, you only take me. You leave everyone else alone. This is my one offer, so you better take it or leave it!”

Grian spits out those last words, malice coating his tongue. The formal tone he’s been using drops away, replaced with cold rage. He hates them, hates their games and their tricks. And he is done with it all.

The figure lifts its hands, which hide beneath the folds of it’s cloak. And for a moment, Grian swears he can see a toothy smile beneath the mask, dripping with purple blood.

“We accept your offer”

The purple world begins to fade into white. Everything is fuzzy and hazy, just like before. Grian fights it, fixing his eyes on the blurry grey shape in front of him. He shouts at it, panic and anger mixing together. “Wait! What do I need to do? How do I complete your task?”

For a moment, a strange symbol flashes between them. A glowing square, but with the edges strangely cut off, leaving dashed corners.

“When you wake, you will see.”

The voice is growing fainter, the world lighter, and Grian feels himself slowly slip away.

“But Grian… you forgot one thing.”

The voice is barely a whisper, nearly vanished into the pressing white. Grian has to strain to listen.

“You never said we can’t use your friends against you.”

Chilling horror spreads through Grian’s chest as the words sink in. He thrashes desperately, fighting against the haze.

“No!! No, I take it back, I take it back! Don’t hurt them! Take me instead!!” He screams, pounding at the walls of white mist enclosing him, weakening him. But his words fall on deaf ears, and it’s then when the white overtakes him.

The world fades out into nothing.

And Grian is gone.

The cloaked figure stands in the empty space for a few seconds more, staring at nothing. It turns, cloak swishing behind it, and slowly fades away, leaving the strange, empty world.

Only a whisper is left behind.

“A deal is a deal, Grian.”

….

All around the server, 11 players vanish.

….

A new world opens, receives, then locks.

…

And Scar opens his eyes to a world of sand.

| Next |

Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated :)

[rush-the-stars]

cielo beloved do u happen to have any spare megumi thoughts mayhaps maybe perhaps

of course i do. of course i do.

um. don’t perceive me. PLS don't perceive me after this. this has been haunting me tbh.

pairing: aged up!megumi fushiguro x f!reader

wc: 3k WHAT IS MY PROBLEM IM SO ASHAMED. thought about turning this into a full fic but. it's too late. it's already typed in lower case. i'm done.

cw: smut, reader has her period, cramps, period sex, rough sex, unprotected sex, fingering, blood, probably grammar mistakes and typos.

***

the door to your apartment unlocks slowly, carefully, like your intruder is trying to be quiet in the hush of night.

it is late.

he must assume that you are asleep, curled beneath familiar bed sheets, sleeping soft and safe in the comfort of your own apartment.

perhaps it’s sweet, that he’s trying to be quiet.

you gave megumi a key to your apartment a long time ago–before whatever entanglement you have more recently began to develop. he just never gave it back. you’d never ask for it back. it belongs on his key chain now and in his hands, belongs in the lock, so that he can always get to you. you realized early on that megumi never wants you to be far from his reach or out of his grasp. he doesn’t want any locks or doors between you.

he reminds you of a dog you had as a child; scratched and howled and whined at your door at night until you let him in, until he could get to you.

megumi’s shadow haunts the arch of your bedroom door now.

he’s home from his mission early.

“you’re awake,” he says and he must know from your breathing or maybe something else entirely. strange, observant man that he is.

you hum, turning your head to get a better look at him; broad in the shoulders, tighter in the waist. so tall and looming, especially in this blue dark. his hair has grown out lately, shaggier than usual, coming up against the nape of his neck, curling behind his ears.

“you’re home early,” you say back.

“its late,” he responds.

in truth, you’d been awake with cramps, rolling around beneath your sheets and trying to find reprieve. your lower back aches something fierce, like you can feel your insides churning and twisting, slow like molasses, but painful and searing. beyond that, you feel bruised and tender, like a too-ripe fruit.

you hold your stomach like it might still your insides from all their contracting.

“cant sleep.” you respond to his silent question as he wanders deeper into the room. he sets his duffel bag down, begins to make himself at home again in your space.

for a moment, you’re so happy to have him back early, you could almost forget the pain. especially when he crawls into bed beside you, sidles as close as he can get himself, pressing all up against you, before slotting his mouth over yours in a rough little kiss. desperate man that he is. hungry.

you can feel the rasp of his stubble against your lips, coming up rough against your softness. your hands wind into his hair, pulling and tugging gently.

he makes a soft noise of relief, like coming home to your arms is what he needed, all he ever needs. you can feel his hands squeeze at your hips, grabbing at your curves appreciatively, eagerly.

he can’t say it first–he never can–so you do, “missed you.”

in response he makes another noise against your neck, ducking down to nuzzle into your throat, pressing wet kisses against your pulse. skimming his teeth against your skin.

he's always needy when he comes home from missions, sometimes half-frantic, sometimes painfully needy, painfully exhausted and craving whatever comfort you manage to provide him.

he feels your breath hitch when he hollows his cheeks to suck a pulsing little bruise into your throat.

fire catches to dry kindle with him, and suddenly he's fanned his desire into a flame. he has a habit of rushing, sometimes, like he's starved. touches and kisses you like you might flee from him at any moment.

sometimes, you think he sees you as a rabbit-hearted girl and his desire is too frightening a predator for you, too big for you to take, too vicious for you to survive. you think he considers his lust half-beast, half-cannibal, and able to maul you. devour you whole.

it'd be a fine way to go, you think, your hand tangling in his wild hair.

he hitches your leg up over his waist and you can feel the way he slots himself against you. you can feel the heat from him, the hardness that catches against where you’re tender and half-hurting.

you make a little noise of surprise and he encourages the rock of your hips, comes back up to kiss you hard again. to kiss you mean, teeth in your lip, fingers flexing possessively at your waist. to swallow any sounds you make now; you know he likes to feel them up against his mouth.

he's all raw man when he gets like this, maybe part animal, single-minded and wholly overwhelming. you can hardly catch your breath. and usually it's fine, it's good, but tonight–

his nimble fingers hook in the front of your little sleep shorts.

–you tense up, pulling away from his mouth and immediately grabbing for his wrist to stop him.

“not tonight,” you murmur and he tilts his head, so you add, “i got my period earlier.”

something passes over his face.

he keeps his fingers hooked in the material, frozen. stubborn.

he licks his lips.

you can’t see it fully in the dark, but you think his cheeks have darkened, flushed all scarlet.

“i don’t mind,” he finally manages to rasp.

his fingers twitch.

your heart trips up. this is new territory.

“no—megumi, that’s alright—“

“i want to.” he says this time and it’s so raw it almost startles you.

you freeze. you swallow hard.

“no, it’s okay—you don’t need to.”

“i want to.” he says again, this time more deliberate.

“i can help you out if you’re so pent up, you know?” you say it with a little laugh, like that might diffuse the tension. it doesn’t.

“no—“ he gets out, “no, i want to.”

“megumi,” you try to soothe, “you don’t understand. it’s—it’s gross, and—“

he swallows, “i don’t think it is.”

you blink at him in the soft dark, opening your mouth and then shutting it.

“are you in pain?” he then asks, softer now, voice just a rumble against your jaw. “do you have cramps?”

you nod dumbly.

slowly, carefully as not to spook you, he lets his hand fan out over your skin and slide to your lower back. he massages slow, works at the muscles gently, creeping higher up your back every few times, maybe dipping a little lower, too.

you groan softly, head falling back to reveal your throat.

“feels good,” you slur a little, arching into his touch like a preening cat.

he tucks his face back against your exposed neck to mouth and teethe gently, tongue dipping out in a blossom of wet heat.

you undulate your hips a little against him, against his large hand that flexes and circles at your aching muscles.

his hand slips lower on your back, fingers easing beneath the waist band of your shorts once more. but this time, he continues to massage, up and down, over and over against your cramping lower back. you squirm somewhat, but ultimately melt into his large hands.

until one of his hands finally plunges a little deeper into your shorts and you lock up.

“megumi—“ your voice is strained with warning.

“it’ll make you feel better.” he murmurs, pausing his hand, though, halfway down your little pajama shorts. and you know he's supposed to be soothing you, but his breath is lost, soft voice a little ragged at the thought.

“n-no. you don’t understand how messy it is or—“

“do you think i’m scared of blood?” he asks, perhaps a little too bluntly, “do you think i care?”

“yes-?”

his fingers move again, as if to prove you wrong, slipping beneath your panties now.

“megumi!” you gasp, you scold, you try to squirm away from him but he holds fast to you.

and it’s so—

horribly embarrassing. you can feel heat whip through you like a storm, burning your face, your chest, low in your stomach.

he doesn’t care about the pad you have on or how you try to twist away from him. it's horrible. you want to curl in on yourself. you want to cry. you want–

his fingers find where you’re burning and slippery.

he inhales a little sharp, off-kilter.

you’re fisting tight to the front of his shirt, head digging into his chest like you’re trying to disappear inside of him.

“megumi, i told you—“ your voice is high and thin and near breaking.

“it’s okay,” he hushes. and again, “i want to—want you. like this.”

and then he gently, carefully, dips his finger inside of you. and you’re sure he feels you constrict and flutter around him, feels your whine up against his throat, embarrassed and needy.

his own breath is tight, held in, as he slowly crooks his finger. then begins to massage, begins to stroke in a way that has your eyes fluttering.

it only takes a few strokes.

and then you lift your hips a little for him and he makes a strangled sound, half a groan as he begins to bolden, strengthen his fingers.

mindlessly, desperately, you realize how good it feels. your mouth parts in surprise, in pleasure, against your will. mortification is a serpent around your throat, holding fast to your voice, to any sound that might escape you. you choke on any pleas for more, wouldn't dare ask him for anything else, and dig our nails into him. you try to anchor yourself. you try to hide in his chest.

you don’t have to plead or ask, though, don't have to do a thing when he gently eases in a second finger. you feel yourself stretch around them, walls constricting, throbbing in a way that finally makes a keen rupture from you.

it makes megumi groan, raw, from his throat, fingers sinking in deeper.

"i want–" he gets out, "i want to taste–"

"megumi!" you gasp, cut him off, can't even hear him say it, squirming in his hold again. maybe out of further embarrassment, maybe out of–

arousal.

your head spins.

it's made even worse when he removes his fingers from you, suddenly shifts, and before you can protest or move, he's got your shorts and panties off, tossed in a bundled heap. and you're on your stomach, suddenly with your hips hitched up.

"you're gonna make a mess–" you try to warn him again, but you don't think he's concerned much, as he gets his pants down only low enough to free himself. you peek over your shoulder to see his hand stroking slowly over his cock, mouth slackened as he looks at you. his eyes are half wild, a little dazed, wholly enamored.

you feel heat scorch across your face and bury it into the pillow like you might be able to hide.

"i'll–" he swallows, inching forward until you feel the tip slip up against your folds. he groans a little, "i'll clean up after. we can take a shower."

you're surprised he even managed to answer you coherently; often, when he gets that look in his eye, he tends to lose all sensibility. for someone usually so rational, this is the one place it slips from him–or perhaps it's the one place he's able to let go of it. to just feel and be and take in a way he never allows himself to.

he finds reprieve, maybe, in getting lost in you.

you yelp when you feel him push the head of his cock just barely inside, splitting you open slowly. you try to inch away from him out of reflex, but one of his hands clamps down on your waist and forces you back. he can feel you fight him a little, pull against his hold, and you think if he wasn't so gone, it'd make him pause.

but then that hand begins to squeeze and massage, pushing up over your lower back again, moving in slow, firm circles.

"relax," he says, but his voice is tight. like he's a bow string pulled taught, ready to release. he holds himself on a sharp leash, though. he rubs soothingly at your back, works into the muscles with his thumbs, until you're easing up. settling back deeper into your hips, opening yourself up to him in a way that makes him slip deeper inside.

you can tell his restraint is threadbare.

"megumi–" you whimper helplessly, mortified, and needy.

it snaps with a firm push of his hips until you feel his thighs up against the back of yours.

he presses deeper into your lower back with his fingers, flexing, massaging, perhaps forcing you down into the bed and molding you to his hands like a sculptor to their art.

he drags himself out slowly and it makes you keenly aware of the stretch of him, of the way your walls flutter faintly, tender and aching.

you feel like an open wound, a live wire, an exposed nerve.

you hiccup a moan out, mewl into the pillow.

but he keeps the slow and deep pace, easing in and out of you, in and out, until you're arching into it–into his hands, into the feeling of him filling you.

you spread yourself for him more, sink down into it and feel your hips open in a way that brings relief–it gives more of yourself to him. you open for him, vulnerable and shaking, tentative and terrified. and when he realizes it, a sound crawls up his throat, a growl that tapers off into what could be a whine.

his hips snap forward this time and your answering cry sets him off. his thrusts turn harsher, deeper, more forceful. but it feels good, in the depths of you, where your insides are stirring. it feels–

exposing in a completely new way. raw. aching and open for him. 

animalistic—

you can feel the slippery, sticky mess against your thighs, against his navel, the desperate way your body keens towards him now. you arch yourself into a pretty bend just to get more, just feel him root down inside of you, desperate to get him deeper. harder. 

you feel his hand cascade over the arch, appreciative, up to the nape of your neck, around to your throat. fingers hooking around your jaw, and then prying into the heat of your mouth, which you eagerly open for. you close your lips around his middle finger with a tattered groan. you suck sweetly, whimpering behind his finger, eyes bleary and dazed.

when they slip from your mouth, he suddenly hauls you up, so your back is against his chest. your head tips onto his shoulder and he sinks so much deeper that you moan from from the pit of your chest, fingers squabbling for purchase on his muscled thighs.

once you’re this close, he’s got his arms around you, face tucked into your neck, huffing and growling against your skin.

“fuck—“ he spits out, pulling your hips down onto his cock, rutting up into you deep and hard.

“feels so good,” you babble, gasping in between, “you feel so good—it feels so good.”

the praise makes him whine, perhaps with less dignity than he’d like, but he buries his face into your throat. his hand suddenly moves, slips over your abdomen and—

it’s all stained from earlier. 

god, it’s humiliating. its terrifying. it makes your stomach flip sharply, like you’re at the top of the world looking down. 

your blood all over his hands as they slip back down to find your sensitive clit, swollen to the touch and desperate. your blood all over his body. over yours.

“so tight—“ megumi finally breaks, fingers decidedly slow even as his thrusts remain strong and deep, “and wet. and hot. and—“ he catches a groan behind his teeth, “and you needed this, didn’t you?” 

his other hand smoothes over your stomach, flattening out over your where he knows you're hurting so badly, “n-needed me in here, right?” he nips at your ear, tugs it between his teeth. 

he’s seeking reassurance, so you gasp out a yes. yes.

“fuck,” he curses again, low and biting, “thought about this all the time—and you, begging for it—for me—“ 

you can tell by the shakiness in his voice that it’s a horrifying admittance, that maybe he’s pulling teeth to get it out, or that maybe he’s so gone to your body and your walls squeezing tight and the—the blood all over his body. yours. that he doesn’t even realize he’s saying it. 

“wanna—“ he tucks his face away to hide again and you reach a hand behind you to tangle in his hair, to push him deeper into your body, to pull and claw a little. “wanna fuck you through the whole week. want to keep you bare and—and—“

his admittance cuts off into a groan, both yours and his, as his fingers work quicker finally.

as your body tightens and bows against his, mounting pleasure like pressure in the sky before a big storm. electricity under your skin. you’re just going to burst—

your gasp is torn from your throat, shattering so hard you almost curl forward, in on yourself, on your throbbing body, if it weren’t for megumi holding you up. 

the noise he makes is all animal, raw, when he feels your walls pulse and flutter desperately, wildly, deep pulls of your muscles that damn near make his eyes cross.

he reaches between your legs just to feel it, feel with his hands the way you throb deep and hard. can feel it constricting around his cock in a way that you know he won’t last long with.

his thrusts get erratic, rougher, a little meaner. tears bead at your eyes, breath ragged, as he finally buries himself in to the hilt and floods your already aching cunt with soothing heat.

this time he sits back on his haunches, takes you with him, let’s you lean back into the cradle of his body.

your both still panting, ragged, and you’re still shivering with aftershocks that he can feel. his hands twitch and squeeze around your hips.

his thumb digs back into the meat of your lower back, massaging in circles. another pulse makes him huff a little and messily, he plants kisses at your cheek, your temple.

he nuzzles into you like a cat. 

when you speak, your voice is barely a croak, “what got into you?” 

he dots kisses at a bite wound on your neck. 

“i’ve always wanted to do that.” he admits quietly. 

you can’t say you’re entirely surprised now, but—

“always?” you ask, turning your face a little as if you might catch a glimpse of his.

you can see his ears turn pink in the dark. 

he swallows, “yeah.”

and the honesty in it is enough to make heat rise to your own face now.

after a moment, he murmurs, “are you okay?” 

blearily, you laugh, “yeah. ‘m okay. i feel gross.” 

megumi kisses at your jaw, perhaps apologetically, “we can shower.”

“you’re cleaning the sheets.”

“i said i would,” he snips and you feel his teeth in your throat like a warning. “but for now,” he continues, voice low and soft and reverberating against your back, “just stay like this.”

and his hands squeeze again around your waist before slipping between your bodies to massage deeply.

another groan slides from you, honey slow and relieved.

and you have to admit, it feels good, with him still nestled deep inside you, and his hands on your lower back like that.

“want you to come to me from now on—“ he murmurs and it stirs something inside you all over again, “want you to come to me now when you’re hurting like this.”

and he can’t say it first, so you do, “i love you.” 

he turns your face towards his suddenly to catch you in a burning, sweet kiss. desperate man that he is. 

and against your mouth, he murmurs, “i love you, too.”