#i knew what the last one was and i was still unprepared

[mortallydarktragedy]

My brain 25/7

House M.D. but it's when House says Wilson's name

[ghoulphile]

sticky fingers | c.h./the ghoul

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 4.5k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; mildly dubious consent, dirty talk, degradation kink, fingering, squirting, rough sex, size kink, standing doggystyle, overstimulation, teasing, choking, dacryphilia, cooper howard is his own warning (he nasty y'all), canon compliant - takes place around ep 7, a grab bag mix of the show and the games ➥ summary | “Lil girls should know it’s rude ta steal.” ➥ notes | i love my men like i love my beef jerky 🫠 i wrote this over 16 fevered hours after finishing the finale. hope you enjoy~ minor edits 4/22/24 | x posted to ao3 | masterlist | feedback is always appreciated ❤️ feel free to send in thots, questions, requests!

It begins, as most things in the Southwest Commonwealth do, with a fight for survival.

City life is tough to be sure, but here on the outskirts of pocket civilizations where there’s nothing but long stretches of desolate wasteland - arid, sunbaked earth and scorched shrubbery - for miles around?

Well, if the ferals, fiends, and super mutants don’t get you in the night, then the desert itself will. During the day the sun burns overhead so nuclear hot, heat glimmers on the horizon in dancing waves.

Unforgiving, relentless as blink-and-you-miss-it mirages are swallowed by ever shifting sands.

It’s easy to get lost.

Even easier to boil alive in your armor if you’re unprepared.

Far too many travelers from the Eastern Commonwealths have met their demise here, where shade is sparse, and water even moreso. The rain - if it does blow in over the mountains - brings rad sickness.

If you’re lucky enough to still be alive, the only reprieve from the heat is in the stooped bones of bombed buildings and ramshackle shacks... where you're just as likely to catch a knife in the back from a chem fried addict as you are relief.

Because here, in the Wastes, danger lurks in sand and shadow alike.

You don’t trek out into the flats half-cocked: a fact all locals know. And if you do decide to? Well, you learn one way or another.

No, only the truly ignorant - or the desperate - dare to tempt man and nature.

Consequently, as you dust off the crumbs from the last half of a Fancy Lads Snack Cake and suck a melted smear of icing from your thumb, you're of the latter half.

You tried holding off for as long as you could. But once the shakes started, you knew you couldn’t put off eating lest you pass out and wake up in a slaver camp.

Well, shit, you think as you rattle a dented canister of purified water. This fucking sucks.

Almost going cross-eyed, your tongue hovers under the rim as you watch the last lazy drop fall free. You catch it with a grimace, smacking your lips. The water tastes metal warm in your sour mouth, barely enough to wet your whistle - let alone your thirst.

You began rationing the last of your supplies days ago, and it’s been a battle against light-headedness ever since. Pretty soon you won’t have the strength to defend yourself, scavving be damned.

Come on. Think - gotta think. What can I scrap for caps?

Not only is Filly more than half a day away, Ma June isn’t one for charity cases. The fact she offered twenty extra caps last time for some burnt books and bent bobby pins was as close as you were ever going to get to a Wasteland miracle.

Sunken cheeks and pleading eyes can only get you so far; everyone’s gotta eat.

"Fuck..." The palms of your hands grind into your eye sockets until you see stars. "FUCK!"

There are two unspoken laws in this otherwise lawless land: steal or starve, live or die. A grim reminder that surrounds you in old bleached bones, empty bullet casings, and scraps of cloth fluttering in the breeze.

Someone always has to be top dog. If you’re lucky, they might be willing to share their spoils.

It’s as you’re considering what pieces of yourself you’re willing to barter that you see them. On the horizon, coming from the west, are two dark blobs.

Stark against the flat plains - a shining beacon of salvation - is a man in a ratty duster and cowboy hat. The saddlebag tossed over his shoulder bounces with his steps while a dog trots beside him, its sable coat rippling with muscle.

Pay dirt.

Making sure to keep low and distant, you stalk them. Watching, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.

When the sun dips low, the sky a swath of pale pink and gold, they make camp at a blown-out Drumlin Diner. Off in the distance, thunder rumbles and sickly clouds gather.

Dark and roiling, acid green; a Radstorm brewing.

Electricity cracks at your skin, stands your hair on end. You scrub your hands over your arms, huddling into yourself for warmth. Meanwhile, the stranger seems to luxuriate in the budding promise of rad rain.

He lounges under an awning, his back pressed against a defunct Nuka Cola fridge. He gazes in the direction of the oncoming weather while mindlessly running his fingers through the dog’s fur as it curls up against his legs.

Occasionally, its ears twitch, and its eyes crack open.

Whenever it glances in your direction, you hold your breath and squeeze your eyes shut but it never gives any other indication that it notices your presence.

A small mercy you’re thankful for.

While you’re a pretty good shot, your body is weak with hunger. Besides, you have quick hands and light feet. There’s no doubt you can stealth your way in and out before he realizes his pack is lighter than he left it.

You’ll only take what you need - not interested in causing any more trouble than is necessary. Some food, maybe something to drink if he can spare it, and something to pawn. Just enough supplies to get you sorted in Filly.

Anyway, he certainly isn’t hurting for it by the look of things.

Any guilt you felt was short-lived when he settled down after dropping his pack inside, walking out with an inhaler of Jet in one hand and a can of Cram in the other.

Watched, greedy, as he cracked it open and picked at the tin of meat with lazy fingers. Salivated as he sucked them clean in between deep pulls of chem.

Soon, you decide, licking your lips as he chews, swallows. Soon.

However when push comes to shove, the stranger proves far more keen than you give him credit for.

The world spins like a hit of Daytripper, a kaleidoscope of color as your skull bounces off the wall with a loud crack. Air rushes from your lungs as something huge - hot and heavy - slams into you from behind.

Pins you against the wall with ease as your ears ring.

Something rattles loose; your teeth too large and your tongue too thick. Warm metal floods your mouth as the side of your face throbs in time with the rabbit fast stutter of your heartbeat.

Pain sparks and your stomach rolls.

"Wha's?" you slur, thoughts dripping like wax. "Wh-at's..."

Meanwhile, a gloved hand lassos around your throat like a collar. Brute fingers squeeze the tender flesh of your jugular until you hear your pulse in your ears. Senses struggling - sluggish to adjust in the encroaching night - as tiny cavities eat at your vision, little pockets of darkness.

“Lil girls should know it’s rude ta steal," a gruff voice mocks. “Betcha thought you was real slick, huh? Tch. You ask me, you’re dumber than shit, Darlin'.”

Trying to regain your bearings, you shake your head only to groan. “I don’t - ‘m not -” It’s difficult to concentrate, a throbbing tempo taking up residence in your temples. The words come slow. “Wha’d you mean?”

He whistles, long and low-pitched, "D’ya have any idea who you're fucking with?"

“N-No…”

“How’s about I show you, then?”

Warm breath puffs over the shell of your ear, a tongue sliding out to trace along the lobe. You jolt, squirming in discomfort as he crowds closer.

“Tasty lil thing like you, wrapped up all nice and pretty just for me." He chuckles. "Why, it must be Christmas.”

What the hell is he talking about?

It’s hard to breathe with his heavy weight suffocating you; the scent of gunpowder and bitter smoke clogging your nostrils with every labored inhale. His lips - ragged - scrape over the nape of your neck.

The grip on your throat squeezes once, twice; leather sticks to your sweaty skin.

You squint your sore eyes, taking in the faint flickers of firelight that spill through the open doorway. The desert chill of night has settled in, creeping through the busted out windows to dig beneath your padded armor.

Thunder rumbles directly overhead as lightning follows in flashes of acid green. It’s only a matter of time before sheets of rain come pouring down; the air sticky with humidity, trembling with energy.

The Radstorm has finally arrived.

You’ll undoubtedly get sick if you leave the shelter of the diner - might even die from it if you can’t afford or find any RadAway. But as the stranger’s chest digs into your shoulders, and the dog curls up in the corner - uncaring of your plight as its nose tucks into the whip-thin tail - you think you’ll take your chances.

Tilting back to glance at him from over your shoulder through damp eyes, you say, “Look--”

Only his hand moves, viper quick, as it slides from the front of your neck to the nape. Strong fingers clamp down like a vice, like scuffing an unruly dog.

He grinds your face into the wall, rough metal shredding your cheek.

You cry out, a soft, pained little thing that echoes through the empty diner.

“Now why’d you gotta go an' make me do that?”

A phantom glimpse told you all you needed to know; broad jaw, thin lips, a hollow nasal ridge, creeping radiation burns and cracked skin. Ghoul.

“Let’s try this again, Sugar.”

His free hand - sans glove - creeps over the curve of your hip to splay along the swell of your belly, fingers tucking up under the hem of your shirt. You shiver at the stroke of roughened skin.

“Don’t take another peep or I might jus' have ta pluck out those pretty eyes of yours.”

Dread pools low in your gut, a leaden ball.

Everything in you screams: RUN, RUN, RUN.

Alarms blare but you freeze. Stare straight ahead at the featureless wall, eyes wide and unseeing. Through the foggy mire of your thoughts - half formed and shapeless - you have enough presence to understand the precarious nature of your position. 

Heart hammering, you plead for mercy, “Please, I’m - I’m sorry.”

"Aw, ain't that real sweet?" He remains impassive, unmoved. "The little thief does got some manners after all."

Without warning, the sharp toe of his cowboy boot kicks apart your feet. In the ensuing empty space between your thighs, his leg slots into place. Spurs dig into the tender meat of your ankle, little kisses of pain, as his hips rut forward against your ass.

You choke on your spit, pulse jumping in your throat.

"H-Hey, that's..." You attempt to shove at any part of him you can reach to no avail. Built and broad with compact muscle, it's like trying to move a brick wall. "I said I was sorry, okay!"

He ignores you, burying his face into the space behind your ear. A deep inhale sounds next to your head, the expansion of his chest against your back so firm you're not sure you won't fuse together.

The whiskey rough groan he releases does wicked things, makes your mind wander to places it shouldn't. Full of grit and gravel as his cock twitches against your backside, a burning line of heat.

A shiver ricochets down your spine.

He grunts, says, "Mm, you smell good enough ta eat."

The cap of his knee nudges up against your clit with a sudden jolt, shocks of pleasure electrifying your body. Tears prick the corners of your eyes, and a sob threatens to scrape its way up from the depths of your throat.

You swallow, mouth desert dry. "Come on, let's just forget all about this, yeah?" you reason. "No harm done. I'll even give you whatever I've got left so - so..."

He makes a noise in the back of his throat, the vibration rattling through your chest. "So?" he prompts, plucking at the waistband of your trousers.

"So let me go?"

"Now why would I go an' do an asinine thing like that?" he replies. "If you think you can buy your freedom, think again, Sweetheart."

Rain pings off the metal roof, the smell of pungent ozone and rusting metal wafting in through busted windows and open doors.

“'Sides,” he pauses to turn your attention outside, “I’d hate ta have you yakin’ before the fun’s even started.”

There’s no way to misconstrue his meaning when he punctuates the statement with a teasing rut of his hips. Those rugged fingers tug open the clasp of your trousers, yank until the material goes slack and pools around your ankles.

“Hey, wait--!”

You jolt, hands scrambling for purchase as he slides his leg against your core. The friction of his pants through your thin cotton underwear makes you ache.

Ripping through your bottom lip, blood beading to the surface, you choke on a high-pitched whimper. "I..."

There's no way he can't feel your reaction.

How quickly you're getting wet as he drags you along the length of his thigh while yanking your hips back into the cradle of his pelvis. You meet him in a slow grind that boils your blood and steals the breath from your lungs.

It’s been - shit - far too long since you’ve felt anything other than hunger, thirst; the animal drive to keep pushing forward.

"You like this, don'tcha?"

You hear the dagger-sharp smile hidden in his words.

He croons, "What would your fellow smoothies think, huh? Here you are lettin’ a ghoul get you all hot n bothered - and you’re lovin’ it. Ain't you?"

You throb in response, heat stealing its way into your cheeks as you turn your head away in shame. His dark chuckle lets you know he felt the squeeze of your thighs, the rock and dip of your hips against his knee.

"I - I don't..." you stutter, struggling for a retort. “I’m not--”

A tremble works its way through your body, crushed as you are between the rad warm burn of his body and the wall. Completely at his mercy as you try to figure out where it all went wrong and what you can do to worm your way out of this one.

Terrified of what'll happen if you stay, terrified of what'll happen if you go; stuck in limbo as what was meant to be a simple grab-and-dash devolved into this confusing cluster of shame and lust.

You loathe the embers of desire kindling to life low in your belly.

"You really outta start bein' more honest, Sweetheart."

A large hand dips beneath the worn band of your underwear, and you wait with baited breath. Helpless as calloused fingertips brush over the swell of your mond.

Your inner thighs are uncomfortably sticky with slick, and your eyes burn in humiliation. Your throat trembles around all the words you want to say.

"Didn't anyone teach you lyin' was bad?" he asks rhetorically as his fingers slip down to play with the swollen bud of your clit, tapping lightly.

You keen, low and wounded.

Short nails dig into your palms as you flex your hands for want of something to grab onto.

“I am being honest,” you bite out through grit teeth. Sweat dapples your furrowed brow. “Just lemme go, please.”

"I find that hard ta believe," he replies. "Sorry to say, but you're shit at lyin'. Just look how hungry your lil cunt is for me."

It’s the only warning you get before those long digits plunge deep inside, two becoming three as they stretch you wide. Hollow you out; knuckles massaging your entrance as the tips prod along the sensitive front wall of your cunt.

You clamp down with a strangled moan. “Shit!”

This is a horrible idea - but it’s been forever and a day since you’ve felt anything other than your own touch.

Whether it be the bone-deep loneliness you’ve been shoving down for months or the sudden, inexplicable need for contact, you long for a reminder that you’re still alive.

That you’re not some wrath of the Wasteland filled with sand and blood, doing whatever it takes to survive in a place that would rather see you fail.

“I - I’m not sure.”

He snorts but offers no council or reassurances, using his free hand to yank at the back of your head in impatience. While it might’ve been a fairer fight if you weren’t in such bad shape, there’s no denying that he’s proven himself to be more adept.

Stronger, quicker.

This is going to happen either way.

And that turns you on - even though you feel like it shouldn’t.

If you give in, if he forces you to give in, it’s not really your fault then, is it? You can enjoy it because you have no choice.

Fuck it, you think, closing your eyes and tilting your head to the side in submission.

Like a doll with cut strings, all the fight drains from your body and you’re left sharing space. The ghoul is a furnace of heat behind you, barely any space to breathe he’s crowded so close.

His cock thickens where it digs into the soft fat of your ass, as large and intimidating as the man himself. “Now stay still for me.”

The or else goes unspoken.

Then he’s stepping away, a rush of cold air filling the empty space at your back.

You shiver, tempted to turn around. Maybe make a run for it. The only thing stopping you is the awareness that his threats aren’t so idle. In your experience, it’s far better to befriend the monster than to anger it.

So you comply, waiting an eternity as your senses strain to pick up on anything other than the murmuring hush of rain, the rumble of thunder, as the Radstorm continues to blow its way through.

Though just when you think he might’ve left, ready to chance moving, you hear the clink of a belt buckle clicking open. The scuff of boots across the linoleum before broad hands shove up under your shirt, scarred palms bare as they settle on your hips.

You tense before forcing yourself to relax.

“You ain’t as stupid as I thought,” he says. “Good girl.”

A test.

You breathe a sigh of relief.

“I can listen,” you mumble, keeping calm as his hands explore the plains of your stomach, pluck at the waistband of your panties. “Promise ‘m not gonna do anything else.”

Learned my lesson the first time. Got my skull cracked open for it.

“That’s what I like ta hear.”

Without warning, your panties are being ripped from you, scraps of fabric fluttering useless to the floor. You squawk in indignation but then a heavy hand settles between your shoulder blades.

He presses down, and you follow without complaint, finding yourself bent in half.

And then the fat head of his cock is right there, teasing at your entrance. He plays with your cunt, slipping the shaft between your wet folds. Dragging up the length of you to tap at your swollen clit.

Jerking in his hold, you whine and try to bear down with all your weight. “Please,” you squirm. “Please, c’mon…”

His grip remains firm, bruising as he exhales next to your ear, a pleased little grumble. “Thatta girl. Now tell me, who’s my pretty lil thief?”

Every hard ridge of his body bites into the softness of yours, your stiff nipples dragging against the rough material of your shirt. Zings of pleasure shoot through you; bursting in your bloodstream, fizzy like warm Nuka Cola.

“I-”

“Go on now, Sweetheart: say it.” Fingers dig into your hips so hard your bones ache. “Or I jus' might be tempted ta take a bite outta your pretty lil backside instead.”

He’s bluffing, you think, half delirious, … Right? He wouldn’t--

You swallow, throat clicking, and squirm against him.

Is that a chance you’re willing to take?

No, no it’s not.

“Y-Yours - I’m - I’m your little thief.”

The unexpected flare of satisfaction in his voice is almost your undoing. A hand pets down your flank, swatting the outside of your thigh playfully.

“Good girl.” He demands, “Say it again.”

Sharp hip bones kick forward against your ass as he lines himself up and starts to bully his way inside.

“I’m - YOURS!”

Your soft, gummy walls flutter, squeeze until giving in with a pop under the hard pressure of the fat head. His cock stretches you out, thick and girthy.

Ridges of scar tissue and patches of rough friction pockmark his shaft, massaging tender places as he fills you up, fucking you open.

He feeds you inch after inch… until he can’t.

“Wait!”

Accommodating his girth is a struggle, your cunt filled to the brim by the time he’s halfway inside. No amount of slick could make him fit, so he makes do with harsh little jerks of his hips. Forces himself deeper and deeper until he glides home nice and smooth, sheathing himself to the base with a sigh of satisfaction.

You clamp down hard with a hiccupy whine, walls furtively trying to push him out. “A-Ah!”

“Goddamn,” he huffs, hands kneading your ass, “You’re a tight fit.”

Tears prick your lash line, your hips shifting as you try to stop him from moving. Begging for a moment of reprieve. You’ve never taken something so big and thick, so textured before.

Coupled with the minimal foreplay, it feels like he’s punched his way through your body. Hollowed you out to make a home for himself.

Pussy aching, a low burning tightness creeps over your lower belly as tender flesh pulses uncomfortably around the unforgiving heft of his cock seated deep inside. You swear you feel him poking your belly button.

“Please,” you pant, heat settling into your cheeks. “J-Just wait a sec-ond! I can’t - oh shit.” 

“Aw, look at you.” Fingers reach around to brush over your cheeks, gather the tears that’ve slipped free. “Didn’t mean ta make you cry,” he lies.

The sound of him sucking his fingers clean reaches your ears. Your stomach swoops, and your clit throbs. Dazed as you wonder what his mouth would feel like on your pussy.

"Hah - too much, you're - fuck - you're too big."

He snickers. “Can’t be helped, I guess.” Body rippling in a shrug, his hands re-settling on your hips. “But that’s all right - I like it better when they cry.”

Before you can retort, he pulls his hips back.

Your toes curl in your boots, feet squeaking across the linoleum floor as your sweaty forehead grinds into the cool metal of the wall. The texture of his shaft burns as it slides through your swollen folds, dragging against sensitive spots you didn’t even know existed.

You can’t tell if it’s the best you’ve ever felt or the worst, but you nearly sob all the same, nerves alight with liquid fire. Want him as deep inside as he can go; a frenzy of desperation that needs him to stuff you so full you choke.

“See for all your whining, you’re takin’ me so well. What did I say about bein' honest?”

You sniffle, blurry eyes creaking open to stare out the window.

Your body throbs in time with your pulse, your pussy so stretched out you can’t clench down when he thrusts in deep. The fat mushroom head teases your cervix, a faint whisper, before he’s drawing back again.

“T-Too fast,” you stutter, head rolling back to rest on his shoulder. Your thighs tremble, knees going soft. “Slow down, slow down.”

“Sh, you can take it. I know you can.”

With a grunt, he surges forward. Wasting no time in starting up a brutal pace that rattles your bones. He drives you hard into the side of the diner; tits crushed and face smashed, a disgusting mixture of tears and drool wetting your cheek.

“Just like that, Sweetheart.”

You do little more than hold on, all thoughts driven from your mind as he fucks you swollen and bruised. Cunt a sticky mess as your slick eases the way, clinging to your inner thighs and dripping down his heavy balls.

Every thrust punches little sounds from you, and he grunts. “Fuck!”

Your hands cling to the sides of his hips, focusing on the shift of muscle beneath heavy fabric. “I can’t,” you slur, eyes cloudy as you glance up into his, gazes meeting for the first time. “Please, I - ah!”

His thrusts turn punishing, even more so than they already were, hips meet your ass with enough force to leave bruises. “What did I say about sneakin' a peek?”

While the words sound threatening, his voice is heated and breathy. For all his talk, he doesn’t look away. In fact, his hips slow into languid rolls, grinding close. When your eyes slide from his, he reaches down to pinch your clit between his fingers.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he chides. “You keep those eyes on me.”

Pretty, you think, dazed.

Glinting in the slants of firelight like wet sand or a Nuka Cola bottle in the sun; bourbon warm as they peer at you from beneath a heavy brow bone.

“That’s it, there’s my good girl."

Eyes fluttering when he flexes his hips in reward, the tip massaging along your g-spot, your mouth drops open on a whine.

“O-Oh! Right there, I - fuck, please don’t stop. ‘m so close.” F-Feels s'good.

His bare hand reaches up to curl around your jaw, gnarled fingers pushing their way past the open circle of your swollen lips. They compress your tongue as they gather saliva, stroking along your tastebuds.

Gritty, rough; he tastes of dirt, blood, and gunpowder.

You sneak a kiss to his scarred knuckle when he pulls free.

“Shit, I’ll be damned. You’re just a nasty lil freak, ain't you?”

You moan in response, stretching up on your tip-toes and arching your hips to change the angle. Your palms rest beside your head, docile.

A crazed grin cracks the corners of his lips, his teeth bared like an animal. “I like that,” he husks. “Now be a peach…”

Then those soaked digits are finding their way between your thighs, ghosting over your skin to smear spit onto your abused clit. The tender bud throbs beneath his fingertips, swollen and begging for attention.

He hitches his hips forward to feel you jerk, pulsing beneath his touch as he resumes a fast, jolting pace that has you smacking into the wall.

“And cum for me.”

A deep rumble escapes his throat, the sloppy, wet sounds of him fucking you ringing loud in your ears. Your hips roll, unsure if you want to press forward into the swirl of his fingers or back into the rut of his cock.

Tears stream down your cheeks, your chest heaving with weak sobs.

“Please,” you whine, his shaft pinching your walls uncomfortably. You feel swollen, rubbed raw. “A-Almost there.”

A nip to the ear is all it takes.

“Hhaah, I’m--!”

The liquid heat that’s been pooling low in your belly - building and building - finally bursts in a gush of slick that soaks his hand. Darkens the crotch of his pants as it drips down your thighs to splash against the tile.

You sob, a full body tremor zipping through you like bottled lightening.

In the aftermath, your cunt twitches in time with your heartbeat. Hands numb and head full of cotton as cramps bloom between your hips. Sharp little stabs shoot up behind your navel.

“Shit, I’ve got myself a gusher,” he laughs, a nasty little smirk tugging at his lips. “Look at the mess you made. Now if you ask real sweet-like, maybe I’ll let you clean it up with your tongue.”

You sag, too boneless to be ashamed as electric aftershocks tingle along your nerves. All the while, his pace never falters, quickly fucking you into overstimulation.

Your clit twitches pathetically when the fat head of his cock drags along your g-spot. "No more," you mumble weakly, letting him maneuver your body how he likes. "Please."

“Heh, let’s see if you can do that again.”

You whimper, “Oh, oh, please n-no. I - I can’t. You’ll break me.”

“That’s real cute,” his lips, harsh and rasping, drag over the shell of your ear, “but I wasn’t askin’.”

The grip on your hips tightens to the point of pain, digging in and marking you up.

“Now, why don’ we have some real fun, Darlin'?”

[grimmweepers-archive]

— ★ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: afab!reader. dry humping. premature cumming. ok it’s his first time, he’s trying. reader is a tease. 0.8k words. MDNI. 18+ only.| masterlist

Virgin!Alhaitham who is known for being one of the brightest minds to come out of the Akademiya in years. A genius in his own right who can speak over 20 languages and executes everything he tries to perfection. But still has one thing that’s completely out of his realm: sex. 

He acts like it’s no big deal, shrugging off the idea of casual flings just to get his dick wet. It was beneath him, a pointless distraction from his personal goals. Instead, he turned to erotic literature, dissecting it for information like he would any other subject. It’s still educational, he reasons, a way to learn without getting tangled in something that would just waste his time. 

But then Virgin!Alhaitham starts dating you, and suddenly everything he’s learned doesn’t seem so abstract anymore. He’s thorough, methodical— he thinks he knows enough to ensure his first time with you goes off without a hitch. And yet. 

The first time you grind on his clothed cock, he was unprepared for the intensity, the friction, the heat— before he knew it he was already twitching and soiling his pants, his face flushing with embarrassment as he squeezes his eyes shut, white-knuckling your thighs at the realisation that he just came prematurely. 

“Did you just cum?” You ask with a playful lilt in your voice.

“I didn’t mean to…” he mutters, slightly mortified.

But really, who could blame him? You’re too much for him. Too beautiful. Too sharp. Too incredible with just the right amount of taunting. The way you look at him is overwhelming. Every touch leaves him on edge and every kiss is so sloppy because he wants you so badly, he can barely think straight. 

It happens again and then again after that. No matter how much he tries to keep his cool, to stay calm and focused, he can’t handle it. You make his brain fog up, his thoughts scatter, and he curses himself because all he wants to do is fuck you without cumming at just the sight of your pussy. 

However, you don’t let him off the hook that easily. After he’s ruined his boxers, you love to tug down the waistband and admire the mess he’s made, smearing his seed on your fingers and licking it clean with a grin. Just give it a minute and his cock will be hard as rock all over again. 

When he finally manages to put it in you, it’s with one big, unexpected thrust. He can’t help it— the way your walls gripped the tip sent his hip jerking forward as it moved on instinct. 

“I’m… sorry,” he breathes out, though there was no regret in the way his cock throbbed in you. 

And the worst part? You know exactly what you’re doing to him. You bat those pretty lashes at him, feigning innocence while you’re driving him wild, watching him try not to nut just from groping your tits and hearing you sigh his name with that breathy, sweet voice. 

He’s in over his head and you’ve completely flipped the script. Alhaitham has spent his whole life being the one in charge, always knowing what to do, but with you, he’s just a bundle of raw, needy energy. 

And now— he burns with a desperate need to fuck you harder, faster, to feel every inch of you clenching around him that he’s completely lost in it. You’ve made him realise how much he’s been holding back and now he’s ready to give you everything he’s got. 

So when he starts thrusting, it’s deep and unsteady, driven by hunger he’s never felt before. And poor Alhaitham, so out of his element, feels his usual self-control slipping away with each thrust. He thinks the least he can do is stay quiet, to maintain some semblance of composure. But then you whisper in his ear, telling him he can be as loud as he wants. 

And the moment those words reach him, he breaks, unable to hold back the sounds that had been clawing at his throat. He lets out strings of groans and grunts, each one rougher than the last, filling up the room with his lewd noises. 

He’s determined to keep going, to fuck you senseless but you’re so wet and tight, you’re damn near milking him. Between your occasional praise and begging him for more, he finally snaps with a guttural moan, burying himself inside you. His body trembles as he spills into you but even then, he doesn’t stop. He keeps moving, slower now, to savour every last second, despite the sensitivity.

When it's all over, he collapses on top of you, so utterly spent. All those late nights he allowed himself to indulge by jerking off at the thought of you, feeling a little guilty while trying to imagine what it would be like, was nothing compared to the real thing. 

As he lays there, panting and dazed, he tells himself that this will be a problem.

Because now he can’t do it any other way. If this is what he wanted, he was going to have to get better at it. And being the diligent person that he is, there is only one way to improve: practice. 

And who better to practice on than you?

a/n: the idea of virgin!alhaitham has me breathing into a paper bag

© 2024 grimmweepers — do not repost, copy, translate, modify my work on any platform

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[cxrsed-angel]

Knuckle Deep in the Backseat (Joel Miller x Fem! reader smut)

rating: 18+

word count: 3k

summary: Joel convinced you to learn how to drive and offers to teach you, but ends up in the back seat with you.

warning: Smut, age gap (Joel is in his 50s, reader is in 20s). Fingering, dirty talk, Daddy kink, pet names, car sex, established relationship.

A/N: Title is inspired but causal by Chappell Roan but the fic has nothing to do with the song. This actually was in my draft since last year and was "finished" but it needed work lol.

The sun is barely up bit its still too bright, and the birds are chirping too loudly. You can feel the crisp fall air as you stand outside. You hated being up this early. You don’t even remember how Joel got you to wake up this early. Joel knew you weren't a morning person, but he had convinced you with shitty coffee to practice driving after finding a couple of gas cans. Said it might come in handy, and he doesn’t want you to be unprepared. The thought was sweet, but waking you up at 7:00 a.m. wasn’t. You figured it would be later in the day like 12pm not the ass crack of dawn. You followed him to the truck, your eyebrows frowning due to how early it was. 

“Good morning, baby. ‘You ready to drive? I woke you up ages ago. What took you so long?” 

Joel greets you with a big smile. He's leaning against the old truck, way more energetic than you are. Over the years, he’s gotten used to waking up early, which you didn’t understand. You hated how chipper he was in the morning; you couldn’t relate. You’d be lucky if you rolled out of bed before noon. 

You walk up to him, flipping him off before taking the coffee from his hand. He laughs and watches as you take a sip of coffee. You walk to the driver's side of the car, and he follows behind you. You watch as he opens the door and starts hot-wiring the car to start it. 

You see him standing next to an old four-door black truck, holding the coffee he had promised, smiling. “You know I used to have a truck like this; it was black—” You nod, staring at him, not really listening to him go on about his old pre end of the world truck he used to own. You're still trying to wake up, zoning out a bit. You stare at him briefly, and he realizes that you haven't been listening. 

He stops rambling about the mileage he had on his old truck and the deal he got on it. “You ever drove one of these before?” he asked, even though he already knew the answer. You give him a deadpanned stare, narrowing your eyes, 

“And when would I have driven one of these, Joel? Considering most cars stopped working about 20 years ago.” You knew you were being cranky, but you didn’t appreciate being up before noon if your life wasn’t depending on it.

He looks up from hot wiring, mumbling under his breath, “fucking smart ass” You roll you’re eyes and watch as he continues messing with wires until you hear the car turns on; you stare at him as he walks around.

 His ass looks particularly good in his jeans as he walks around the truck to get into the passenger seat. Normally, you would try to make your staring more subtly, but it was hard since you’re barely awake; he just looked so good. The greying hair, his pretty brown eyes, the wrinkles around his forehead from frowning for the last 20 years, the cuts around his face, his muscles peeking through his shirt sleeves. You’re broken out of your trance when you hear his deep Texas voice that had lured you out here in the first place. 

“Are you gonna stand there and check me out all day, or are you gonna get your ass in the car.” 

You stop daydreaming, his words snapping you out of your semi-dirty thoughts. You walk to the car and get into the driver’s seat. You’re sitting in the driver's seat as he asks, “Ok, so tell me what you remember.” 

���Well, not much, considering the last time I was in a car that worked, I was a toddler,” You answer again sarcastically, rolling your eyes, still cranky and grumpy. 

Joel turns his head to look at you, narrowing his eyes at your snark. He knows it usually takes a good 30 minutes or so for you to be yourself when he woke you up early, but today, you seemed extra grumpy. 

The first time Joel woke you up early in the morning, you gave him short responses or cursed him out every other sentence all morning. It was earlier on when he met you. Joel thought you were pissed at him or that he did something, so he responded back with short responses and attitude, which led to a lot of tension the rest of the day. But after a couple of weeks of early morning runs, he saw that that was just how you are, and he eventually got used to it. He also realized that if he gave you coffee and was patient, you’d eventually wake up faster. Still, it didn't work every time, and it seemed like this was one of those mornings where you were extra cranky and a pain in the ass. 

You take another sip of his coffee and sigh, realizing you were being too bitchy; you hand the coffee back to him. “I’m sorry. That was a bit much. I’ll tone it down. Promise.” 

He looks at you as he puts the coffee in the cup holder, unsure if he believes you. He replies dry and sarcastically. “I'm sure you will.” He starts talking about something, but honestly, you weren’t listening, too lost in those brown eyes of his to focus on what he was saying again.

 You see him motion to the thing with numbers above the steering. You know it's probably important, but you're far more interested in how good his hands look as he gestures to the different parts of the car. Fuck why did he have to be so hot? 

“So, um, 20 years ago, you would’ve had to take a test and worry about a lot of different rules of the road and deal with people riding your ass, tailgating, and a lot of other shit, but um, now I guess the important thing is just getting somewhere as fast as possible isn't it? You’d probably not gonna drive often, but it's good to know.”

You nod, paying attention to his words now instead of all the dirty things you want him to do to you, trying to focus on getting ready to drive. 

“Alright, you feel those two pedals down there. The one on the left is the brake, and the one on the right is the gas; you only want to use one foot while driving; you can really mess up the car if you press both at the same time. See these here are your shifts to D for drive, P for park, R for reverse.” He pauses, thinking about anything he might’ve missed, but he remembers you weren’t gonna be driving like he used to, “Thats all you really need to know.” 

You watch as he explains everything to you. He tells you to put it into drive, and the car starts moving forward slightly. You shakily put your hands on the wheel, gripping it tightly, and press down the gas pedal, nervously chewing on your lip. He guides you through an old road that wasn’t too overgrown or hard to navigate. After a few minutes, you feel like you're starting to get the hang of it. You feel Joel place his hand on your thigh, resting it there. You look over at him slightly, wondering if you have messed up or done something wrong. Still, he says nothing about letting you drive, resting his hand on your thigh, and occasionally squeezing it. 

“Am I doing okay?” you ask quietly as his hand continues to rest on your thigh, slowly rubbing further up your thighs.  You feel his hand creep up higher and the air in the truck getting hotter as his hand makes you feel warm. You lose focus on what you are doing and feel the car drifting off the road as his hand reaches further up your shorts. You feel the arousal building in your core. 

“Doin' great baby, just try to keep the wheel straight; you're drifting sideways a little.” He leans over you, grabbing the wheel to make it straight before letting you take over again, “Atta girl, see, you're doing perfectly.” 

His hand lightly squeezes your thigh reassuringly. You swallow hard, trying not to let his actions and deep voice affect you, trying to focus your attention back on the road. But that went out the window once you felt his hand rub the place you needed him most through your pants. 

“Joel,” you whisper his name. It comes out more of a moan than you intended; he leans over the gear shift, kissing your neck and sucking on your skin. You close your eyes, feeling your body getting hotter and your heart beating faster. You had forgotten you were supposed to control a vehicle until he moved his lips off your neck. 

“Focus on the road, baby; after all the shit I’ve been through, I don't wanna die because you drove us into a damn tree.” 

You open your eyes, listening to him, and focus back on driving. At least you try to, but you fail once his fingers start unbuttoning your jeans. His hands go down your pants and slowly caress against your pussy over your panties. You feel your face heat up, getting wetter, more turned on by his fingers teasing you. 

You don’t know how you’d manage to drive this much without crashing the truck, but you lose what little self-control you have left when Joel moves your panties to the side. Your foot moves off the gas pedal, the car stops, and you can't take it anymore. You close your eyes, feeling yourself get wetter. 

“Joel! I can't–ah– I need you please, please, please, I need you,” you beg and whine to him, wanting him to do more, but all you hear is his deep voice laugh at you as he removes his hand from your pants. 

“All of a sudden, you have manners, and bein’ polite.” he mocks you as he moves back into his seat, watching you get a bit mad.. “What happened to all that attitude and snark you gave me 10 minutes ago.” He continues as you look at him, your face flush and hot. No way you continue with this driving lesson after feeling his fingers against your core. 

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry I won't be a pain in the ass anymore.” You try to apologize, hoping he’ll accept it and put his hand back. You look at him with soft eyes, practically beginning him to fuck you. 

He looks at you for a few minutes before shaking his head and giving you a smirk, not being easily won over by your apologies or the 180 in your attitude.

“What?. You think a few sorrys gonna have me forget how much attitude you gave me for no reason?” You frown as he continues, “No, sweetheart, you’ve been an extra wiseass this morning, and I don't think you deserve it.” 

You shake your head to apologize again, hoping to convince. “Joel… Please, I said I was sorry. You know I’m not a morning person, and I never mean it.” He doesn't say anything as he looks at you. You can tell he’s debating whether to drive back to Jackson or go to the back of the truck. “Alright, fine baby, get in the back. But I ain't letting you get that easy,” he grunts in a deep Texas voice. You smile, glad he had given in. 

You unbuckle your seat belt and crawl into the truck's back seat. You're about to leave the car, but Joel places a hand on your shoulder, stopping you. 

 “You gotta put it into park, darling, or we’ll go rolling into a tree.” He gently reminds you as he opens the passenger door. 

You glance at the gear shift, remembering you were supposed to be a driving lesson that had taken a turn.

 “Oh, right.” You sit back in the driver's seat, putting the gearshift into P. You couldn't turn the car off since it was hot-wired, so you watch as Joel reaches over and pulls another small lever thing up, not exactly sure what it is for. 

“The emergency brake. Just to be safe.” 

 After parking the car and making sure the car wasn't going to roll backward, You hop over the console and crawl into the back seat, waiting for him to join you. You watch as Joel gets out of the passenger seat, closing the door behind him. Your eyebrow frowns slightly, confused as to why he was not hoping into the backseat with you. “Aren't you- where are you going?”  Your frown confused why he wasn't hopping over the seat like you. He smiles at you before closing the passenger door; he opens the back seat door, closing it behind him, and climbs in, sitting in the middle seat, getting into the backseat,

 “I ain't as young, and with my bad back and knees. There's no way I’m hopping over the console and crawling into the goddamn back seat like that. My knees are already bad enough.” 

You smile as he sits next to you, forgetting about your age difference, “Guess thats the con of dating an old man, huh.” You joke as he grabs your hips, gently pushes you down on the back seat, and unbuttons your jeans, hovering over you as you lay on your back. 

“Yea, but who's getting in the back seat with said old man and begging this old man to fuck you.” 

You laugh for a bit at his very valid reply. You feel him pull your jeans down and your underwear all at once. You sit with him as he tosses your clothes to the backseat floor. He moves a bit to sit on the seats, pulling you next to him, and his rough hands grab your hips. You feel him rub up your thigh with one and place his index and middle finger on the other hand against your lips. You open your mouth, sucking on them, gazing up at Joel. 

Joel lets out a groan under his breath as he looks at you, “Fuck sweetheart, look so pretty sucking on my fingers.” His praise gets you wetter as he takes his finger out of your mouth and slowly pushes them inside you. He starts off slow but gradually increases his speed as his fingers curl inside you, hitting that spot deep in you. You shudder under his touch, grinding against his fingers. 

“Fuck baby, you’re soaking my fingers.” he drawls out as he continues fucking you with his fingers. You whimper at his words, hearing the sounds of your wetness as his finger fuck deeper into you. You grab onto his bicep to steady yourself, clenching around his fingers as you get closer to your release. Your moans grow louder as you feel his fingers rub against your clit.

“Yes! Yes! Daddy, I’m so close!” You feel the pressure building, your breath gets shakier, and your moans get louder, filling the old truck, until you feel his hand cover your mouth, muffling you’re growing moans. He leans over, hovering over you more, his fingers stopping inside you.

“You need to shut the hell up before you attract a whole hoard of clickers.” His stern tone still turns you on more, his eyes staring into yours intensely. Making sure you understand him, you give him a nod with glossy eyes staring back at him. 

He slowly started moving his finger again, curling up as he reached the spot each time he slid his finger inside you. Your eyes roll back as you move your hips against his fingers. You felt his hand come out of your mouth, and you bit your lip, trying to surprise your moans. You feel you’re self getting closer, your brain getting fuzzy as his fingers move faster.  

“Is this what I have to do every morning, gotta make you cum on my fingers, then you’ll be nice?” He taunts you as you continue moaning. Your lips desperately clash with Joel’s messily making out with him. Joel’s other hand spreads your thighs further as he continues to finger fucking you. 

You nod absentmindedly, leaning your head against his neck as he continues fucking you with his fingers; his thumb rubs your clit and brings you over the edge. Joel knew, too. He knew your body like the back of your hand, even outside of sex. He always knew when you were scared when you were pissed. 

“You’re close, huh I can tell. You wanna cum, sweetheart? You’re gonna cum on daddy’s finger?” He asks softly as he sits beside you, fingers moving deeper inside your dripping cunt. 

You immediately nod, “Yes, daddy, please, please. I’m so close.” Your release slows as his fingers pull out of you. You feel your orgasm fading and your eyes open, looking at him disappointed, watching as he puts his two fingers in his mouth, tasting your wetness. He gives you a slight smirk as she shakes his head. 

“I don’t know. I’m not sure you deserve it, after how you were this morning, all those smart-ass remarks after you asked me to teach you to drive.” He slowly traces his finger over your clit, teasing you as you whine against him.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll be nice!” you apologize frantically, hoping he’ll move his fingers again. Joel smiles before he slips his finger inside your aching pussy accepting your apology, and moves his finger again, the arousal building again. Your moan grows louder as his fingers bring you to your release. He brings his lips to your mouth, sloppily kissing you to quiet your moans. You moan against his lips. 

“As pretty as those moans are, you really gotta keep it down, sweetheart. Once we get back to Jackson, you can be as loud as you want. Okay?” 

You nod, knowing he’s right. You really don't wanna lure a group of infected or clickers with your moans. In this situation, you’d rather not die mid-sex from clickers. you close your eyes, feeling his fingers move faster. He brings his other hand onto your clit, rubbing it slowly.

“I know, I know but-fuck baby, I’m close, I'm so close.” The sounds of your moans and your wetness from your entrance fill the rundown truck as you get closer to your release. 

“Come on baby, atta girl, soak my finger, baby.” He coaxes, his voice guiding you through your orgasm. eye closing as you dissolve into pleasure. you gasp before moaning his name repeatedly. “Joel Joel Joel fuck daddy!” His hand comes over your mouth again to keep your moans quiet. You feel your stomach twist, your wet pussy clenches as you feel your climax. you move, laying your head on his shoulder as his fingers help you ride out your orgasm. 

You feel him remove his fingers from you. you breathe heavily, coming down from your high. Just you open your eyes; Joel puts his dripping fingers in his mouth. You watch desperately as he moans at your taste. He smiles, laughing slightly at how you look at him still recovering but, obviously still wanting him. He leans forward, planting a kiss on your forehead, and looks at you.  

“You better?” you nod silently. “You awake?” you nod again, feeling a bit weaker between your legs than before you had entered the truck. Joel laughs, gently giving you a soft kiss on your lips. “Good, now get back in the driver’s seat and take us home so I can fuck you. ” 

You nod, getting up and hopping back into the front seat. You look back at Joel, watching him get into the passenger seat. He starts the car again, and you start speeding back to Jackson. 

“You know, maybe you should give me an orgasm in the morning every day to wake me up.” you smile, making a joke but also being serious. 

Joel shakes his head at your words, laughing a bit. His hand comes back to your thigh, rubbing it. “Just focus on driving the damn truck first.” 

[kingkaizen]

𝓱𝓸𝔀 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓽𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓸𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓸𝓭

∘ desc: various scenarios on how the jjk men treat you during that time of the month

∘ ft: gojo, geto, nanami, sukuna, + toji

∘ includes: blood, suggestive themes (toji)

Gojo 

↠ Gojo always finds himself completely unprepared when your time of the month comes around

↠ He usually finds himself being your errand boy and getting everything that you need

“Babe, what size pussy do you have?”

You sat on the couch with the phone on speaker in disbelief. The amount of times that Gojo has seen the exact pack of pads that you wear and still couldn’t remember is unbelievable. “Satoru. I hope you know that they aren’t based on how big your vagina is.”

Gojo stared at the large array of pads in confusion. “I surely hope not because these overnight ones look very scary.”

“Please just get the third size for me,” you sighed, already feeling your headache coming on.

“Okay baby, I’ll be there soon alright? I’ll pick up those chocolates that you like and maybe some ice cream too.” Gojo hurriedly made his way around the store to pick up everything else that you’d need.

“That would be great, thank you” you replied, throwing your head back against the end of the couch as you waited for Gojo to come back and take care of you.

Geto 

↠ Geto is a very mature man and things like periods don’t make him squeamish at all

↠ He understands why you could be embarrassed about having it in front of him but he tries to calm those nerves as much as he can

From the moment you opened your eyes, you could feel an immense amount of pain coming from your abdomen. With the pain in your lower back mixed with the sticky feeling between your legs, you already knew what was happening. However, it came a little early this month and you unfortunately weren’t even in your own bed. Embarrassment washes over you quickly as you turned to look at your boyfriend sound asleep next to you. You slowly nudged him awake.

“Suguru, I’m sorry” you whispered quietly as he opened his eyes, pupils making their way to his ruined sheets underneath you. Without even missing a beat, he got up and went straight into the bathroom. 

Your first thought was that he was either about to throw up from seeing your blood on the sheets or he was too mad to even speak to you. Regardless, you sat there, too uneasy to even move. Before you could overthink any longer, you could hear the bathtub running as Geto made his way back to you.

“Let’s get these clothes off of you, princess.” He kissed your forehead as he helped you rise from his bed, peeling your night outfit off of you slowly. He led you to the now perfectly warm bathtub, helping you get in.

“Are you mad at me?” You felt so ashamed of yourself in this moment, not even able to look at him in his eyes. His fingers rested underneath your chin as he lifted your head to look at him.

“Why would I be mad at you for something so natural?” He kisses you again, a peck on the lips this time. “My sheets are temporary, I just want to make sure you’re okay.” 

Nanami

↠ Nanami is complete boyfriend material when you’re on your period

↠ He has the tracker on his phone so that he knows ahead of time and is prepared

↠ He always has your favorite snacks and things ready for when it’s time 

Walking into your shared home with your boyfriend after getting off from work, the last thing that you expect is to see him sitting on the couch, blankets folded next to him with some popcorn and a movie ready to play. Nanami always manages to do things like this for you, being incredibly attentive to your needs. 

“Babe, what is all of this for?” You ask as you take off your shoes, watching as he walks towards you to shower you in kisses.

“I know you’re probably in a bit of pain so I wanted to make sure you could relax as soon as you got home today.” He helps you take off your coat before leading you over to the couch. He brings some wine from the kitchen before sitting down next to you.

“Thank you, my love.” You give him a sweet kiss before snuggling up against his warm body, feeling his arms wrap around you. He starts the movie, rubbing your tummy, the heat from his hand feeling incredibly soothing.

“How did you even know that I was on my period babe?”

“I track it on the app sweetheart. I like to be prepared, you know.”

Sukuna 

↠ sukuna cannot stand when this time of the month rolls around

↠ he hates having to deal with your constant mood swings but he still tries his best to not catch an attitude with you 

↠ this is the only time that he will ever allow you to boss him around, just for a little while

“RYOMEN!” you scream at the top of your lungs for the third time, growing increasingly impatient by the second. You’re laying in bed, cuddling up against your pillow as your face cringes in pain. Your cramps feel as though they’re getting worse by the second, annoying you to no end.

“What, woman.” Sukuna strolls into the room, chocolate covered strawberries in hand. “You wanted me to make these for you yet you’re rushing me back in here.” He places them down next to you, hand calmly rubbing your back. “What is it now?”

“Don’t talk to me like that, Ryo’.” You pout at him, “I feel like such a bother to you, do you hate me now?”

Sukuna rolls his eyes at your dramatic question, sighing in response. “I could never hate you. You’re my queen and I’ll do anything for you, no matter how bitchy you’re being.”

“I’m sorry,” you could feel yourself tearing up at the thought of being mean to your boyfriend, “I’m just in so much pain.”

“Shhh, just lay down and eat your strawberries.” Sukuna picks one up and guides it to your mouth as you take a bite. He reaches for the remote to turn on your favorite show before getting up to leave the room once again. “Just relax while I go get you some more water.”

“But, I want to cuddle” you request in a pleading tone, tilting your head to the side in persuasion as you tap the empty spot on the bed next to you.

“Fine, just don't complain that you're thirsty in two minutes."

Toji

↠ Toji has dealt with his fair share of girlfriends and periods

↠ This time of the month usually marks a very happy time for him as he realizes that you are in fact not pregnant

↠ Regardless of that, he ensures that you’re okay in the best way that he can 

“I’m officially not pregnant!” You smile as you walk into the kitchen where Toji is cooking, walking up behind him to wrap your arms around his waist.

“Got your period huh? I’m actually a little disappointed.” Toji replies, putting a top over the rice that’s currently on the stove before turning around to face you. He gives you a kiss on your forehead before lifting you up on the counter.

“Oh please, all you tell me is how much you don’t want another kid, you should be celebrating.” You roll your eyes at your him, watching the smirk slowly creep up onto his face. His large hands grip your hips, massaging them firmly.

“From the way things went last time, I’m surprised that you don’t have a little one in there.” He smiles, placing a hand on your tummy. 

“You gonna let me try again?”

© kingkaizen | do not copy, steal, or duplicate!

[frenchvanilla-mase]

fans are assholes | r. dias

summary: fans compare your pregnancy to fellow wags, leaving you to feel not so good.

notes: as requested! i don’t think i specified that it was twins but it still works. dad!ruben has to be my fav genre 🤪 i hope you all enjoy, some very cute at moments 💘 let me know what you all think! <3

IT WAS MATCH DAY, and although you were feeling rough like you had done the last 7 months, you had promised your fiancé you would make it to today’s knockout game rather than watching from home. he wanted you to support from the stadium, but he also wanted to get you out of the house too.

you were 32 weeks along and feeling very heavily pregnant.

yeah, it’s all fun and games when dating a tall man until you have to grow his unnecessarily large children.

all you wanted to do was lie down and moan this entire trimester, having nothing but a hard time with this one you were growing. you’d had every bad symptom imaginable, from the nonstop sickness and heartburn, to back and hip pain, difficulty sleeping and sore boobs, and now in the final stages you were experiencing braxton hicks, so yeah - all you did want was to lie down and whine. more than ever, you just wanted to stay in the comfort of your own home and nest.

“—you’re not even nesting though! you’re sitting here watching tv all day! get up and get ready!” rúben had said to you just yesterday morning after you’d told him you were too busy nesting to grab a coffee with him before training.

“mama, i think you should go tomorrrow . .” another sweet voice said from the sofa, glancing sympathetically in your direction.

your sweet boy, elias, didn’t want to offend you and make you feel like a slob, but he really wanted you both to go to his papa’s games. with school, you didn’t allow him to go to any late night matches which were always the majority, but tomorrow’s kickoff was 3:30pm and when he pitched the idea, you felt awful for feeling like you’d deprived him of some fun memories.

you really didn’t want to go, but your baby boy deserved it. he’d been working so hard in the last weeks of school and rúben would agree that you needed to take him - he wanted you both there just as much but he also knew not to tell a pregnant woman what to do - he wasn’t the one carrying an 8lb baby around in all summer.

“you nearly ready, baby?!” you called from your room, trying your best to look acceptable for today’s outing. you couldn’t remember the last time you’d done your makeup and styled your hair so neatly, baby dias was really kicking your butt that you hardly had any energy after a shower, let alone doing your makeup and hair.

you really needed them out so you could go back to your old self.

you didn’t remember pregnancy being this hard with eli. with him, you were able to get through the rest of school with him growing in your belly! taking notes and listening in class. sure, you had sickness and a sore back but that was really only at the start and at the end. given, you were younger and full of energy.

eli came along in the last of your teen years but you wouldn’t change anything for the world, same with rúben. he blamed that baby boy for being the reason he pushed himself so hard to get where he was today. he was such an easy pregnancy, and an easy kid.

being honest, you felt more unprepared for this new baby as a grown adult than you did as a teenager back in 2016.

with a few thuds across the landing and a solid jump at your bedroom door, you turned to see your 8-year-old all ready holding two thumbs up. with a man city kit on and trainers, he looked like rúben more than ever. seriously, if you got a photo of rúben back then, it was like looking at eli with a slightly different haircut. it scared you so much. “ready!”

traffic was always bad no matter what time you left, but you got there in one piece and already left eli with one of your closest friends and bernardo’s wife, ines, while you had to run to the bathroom even after such a short journey. jeans were longgg out of the equation so you’d gone with some loose, white trousers to go with the blue football shirt, hoping they didn’t wrinkle too much but still looked good with the outfit. “you are glowing!”

“no, it’s probably just my highlighter,” you pointed to your cheekbone as ines laughed cheerfully.

“no! you look amazing, what are you talking about?! i have missed you!” she couldn’t help but hug you again. “you’re ready to pop!”

she felt your bump and you huffed a sigh, pulling your sunglasses down, “i know, it feels like it.”

you didn’t really like being out this far along, not because you were afraid, but you were at that stage were you were starting to feel gross. like, you looked like a whale no matter what you wore or styled yourself to look like. realistically – you were one of the most beautiful pregnant women the internet had saw. truly, you may have felt like an elephant, but you were still posted on WAG accounts, getting shared by millions of women who begged they could only look as good as you when pregnant or better - envied you for still looking so hot while suffering the struggles of pregnancy.

how?! 😭❤️

life’s not fair!!!! 😫

what’s her secret?!!! 😍😭🙏🏼

but you could have gotten a thousand comments like that . . but all it took was the one bad one.

fucking hell, keep her inside 😂🫣

who is that??

🤣🤣🤣🤮🤮

a lot of the time you didn’t care because you knew how the internet worked, and you know the majority were sad-little-pathetic-football-fan men. they barely impacted you.

when it was women on the other hand . . .

“i just can’t believe one woman would say that to another woman,” you tilted your phone to show ines the replies. “what happened to the whole ‘girls help girls?’” you had to put your phone down before you ended up on a gossip page for arguing with people in your comment section.

“it’s always down to jealousy, babe. they hate you ‘cause they ain’t you,” she pointed, the same thing you had told her when she got her first negative comment, and you smiled at her attempt of making you feel better. she was such a good friend.

the internet was a weird place. your life was a weird place, you didn’t think there’d be a day people hated you for simply being with a person. you found it weird paparazzi followed you around when rúben was the famous one. you found it weird there were accounts dedicated to you when you didn’t do anything. it caught you off seeing people notice every little thing about you or knew things you forgot you’d explained. it did add a little bit of pressure knowing you were being watched and most likely compared to other beautiful WAGS. you’d be lying if you didn’t say you’d put on makeup in fear you’d be posted all over those news articles and WAG accounts.

you forgot how stressed matches made you until kickoff, two minutes in and already overthinking how this would go down. rúben had your heart fluttering nontheless with how he ran up and down the pitch, giving orders all sweaty and even repping the captain band for a bit. it made you feel real good about your baby daddy.

“come on, pa!” your son would shout when a bit of a ruffle would occur, his father speaking passionately to the ref with frustrating hand movements.

the halftime whistle blew and you let out a breath, fanning yourself as your body relaxed for a small moment. 0-0. “ma, i need to go to the bathroom.”

“me too, let’s go!”

perks of dating a footballer? renting out their own box for friends and family - including the private bathroom. no queues around hereee.

walking through the rows and steps, you couldn’t help but feel eyes pinned to you. ines would tell you because you’re a WAG of a player (you regret ever educating her on that term) but really you felt like it was because you looked like a whale making her way through the stands.

eli convinced you to do a lap of the stadium just once to ‘stretch your legs’ when really it was something he always liked to do as he believed it ‘made halftime pass quicker’. so hobbling around with few staff members recognising the kid (or rather seeing the clear evidence he was a mini rúben) , you strolled around the packed building, trying to squeeze past football fans, getting stopped once for a picture.

“thank you so much!”

“no worries at all,” you waved to the two girls, shooting them your kindest smile. they were so lovely, and even complimented you for ‘pulling off pregnancy so well’.

“you’re sLayiNg” eli mocked them, taking your hand.

“shut up,” you tutted. you appreciated being told you were still slaying.

“matt!”

the 8-year-old suddenly bolted to a familair security guard in a neon vest who was delighted to see the boy. “my man!”

you didn’t bother rushing over, you were out of breath as it was and decided to just lean on the wall while elias got his quick catch up, waving at matt instead. halftime was almost over. you should be heading back now.

“—not the best one though.”

“—no, sasha is definitely the best wag.”

i swear, the word ‘wag’ triggers you like nothing else.

you tried not to look around, but to your left, you could make out two bodies mingling with each other. both wearing light blue tops with stylish jeans and trainers, the two girls waiting outside the bathroom, trying to talk quietly between then in a mumbled manner.

you were a mum - you had mastered your hearing to hear the grass grow.

“–but sasha’s not pregnant?”

“–but if she was, she’d have a cute bump, not . . ”

their silence had you believe they’d glance in your direction, and it took every bone in your body not to stare dead on at them with a smile to let them know you heard every word - but you didn’t. you played oblivious and stayed watching eli, a forced sweet smile on your lips.

“–foden’s girl always has a cute little bump too!”

“–oh my god, yes. she’s stunning.”

“–he’s stunning too, to be fair.”

“eli, come on son!” you wanted to bang your head on the wall not wanting to endure the conversation anymore. now you’d tune in, you couldn’t tune out.

“–ok. bye matt! see you later,” he didn’t waste a second to return to you. “see you soon, buddy!”

you waved at matt and led him through the crowds, not meaning to hold his hand so tight until he pointed it out. “ow, ma, you’re hurting me.”

“sorry baby.” you didn’t sound sorry but you felt utterly hot and bothered. and not in the good way.

for some unreasonable reason, a small line of carts drove through the halls, and you stood against the wall as they passed by, holding your son by his shoulders. you could hear a small utter of whispers from your side but refused to turn your head. you really needed to fucking sit down.

“—dias’ girl! look at the size of her!”

“–rob that’s so mean! she’s pregnant!”

“WOW!” eli stole your attention as he almost stepped out in front of a last minute one zooming by. you smiled, and quickly manoeuvred him on your way.

“keep going, keep going,” you shuffled behind him in the stands, but stopped amidst a waiting line as someone caused hassle. your foot kicked something. “oh i’m so sorry!”

you accidentally tapped your foot to a lady’s handbag, but she smiled and waved you off. “you’re alright, don’t worry!” shortly adding, “i’m not surprised!” glancing to your belly.

it wasn’t malicious, but it was about to be the last straw of some floodgates. “ha! i know . . I’m like a whale.”

“how far along are you?” her friend asked.

“about 7-8 months,” you smiled sweetly, ignoring the fact they didn’t assure you that you didn’t look like a whale. thanks.

“oh wow!”

“i know,” you fake laughed. why wasn’t this line moving?

“is it twins or just the one?”

you tried to stop your eye twitching. who in the right kind said that?! was that . . a backhanded compliment?! what that even a compliment?! or was she genuinely asking in a stupid and nosey manner? “no, but it feels like it,” you fake laughed, and they did too. twats.

“oh my! you’re so big!”

“he or she will be a big boy or girl,” the other corrected with her pint in hand, knowing her friend’s words had just flown out of her mouth.

“yeah . .” you were done with this conversation but you didn’t dare be rude. thankfully, the line moved, and they waved goodbye. “congratulations!”

“thank you!” you replied, turning back around, mouthing absolute knobheads.

“mum, i don’t think you’re a whale,” eli’s hand patted your own that rested on his shoulder, bringing you back down to earth.

your heart thumped and although he didn’t look at you, your heart melted to a puddle as you squeezed his shoulders and ruffled his hair, knowing you’d embarrass him with a kiss. “thank you baby. you’re always to sweet to me.”

and he was. you actually . . wanted to cry. shock.

“hey!” ines greeted. “where’d you guys go?”

you only shook your head and nodded to you son who was standing again, ready and recharged for more yelling. you felt ines squeeze your hand and you looked at her, “are you ok? you look . .”

“yeah, i’m fine,” you dabbed your eyes and put your sunglasses back on. “just . . stupid stuff, and then e said something really sweet and i just,” you held your heart which made her laugh and reassure her for the time being. “ok, but . . you can tell me, y’know?”

“just being emotional,” you said the obvious, making her laugh as you leaned into her for support.

you would tell her later, but right now, you were going to use the rest of the game as your excuse to start screaming.

-

the game ended on a win. you saw rúben briefly when the players walked around and applauded, and eli mirrored his excitement and happiness, waving and calling to him as he spotted you guys. he was ecstatic you could make it.

it was after 6 by the time you got home and settled. you were about to order food when you second guess your options, today’s events replaying in your mind:

look at the size of her!

sasha would have a cute bump.

you’re so big!

you knew you were pregnant but there were far nicer things to say to a pregnant lady. what a bunch of assholes.

instead, you cooked some carbs up for eli and made yourself a seperate dinner, feeling the need to watch what you were eating now - you’d be giving birth soon and all those pregnancy cravings didn’t just leave when the baby came. you weren’t silly - you weren’t going to deprive yourself of food, but maybe they had a point - why wasn’t your bump considered cute? was it hard to tell you were pregnant? what were you doing differently?

you were on the verge of calling sasha and asking her what she put in her green smoothies when the door opened.

“meu amor?”

“in here champ,”

something rúben didn’t expect to see what you lying on the couch with a salad balanced on your bump, and you munching away like it was a 5-star dish. “what’s this about . . ?” he smiled sceptically, dropping his bag to the floor.

“what’s what?”

“that.” he nodded to your plate.

you shrugged. “took a notion for it.”

“for . . a salad?” he clarified, looking down at you, entertained in some sense.

your craving for the last 5 months had been anything with chocolate frosting on it. rúben had watched you talk yourself out of buying a tub of it on its own because you knew if was weird and would have to bake go use it.

“yeah.”

to be fair, the salad was tasty, and you were enjoying it but . . at 7 months pregnant? rúben tilted his head. “where’s eli?”

“is his room.”

“he had salad too?”

“he had pasta and garlic bread.”

now he knew something was up. you? not eating garlic bread? italian in general?

someone had said something to you.

he looked at you concerningly, but he was too afraid to ruin the peaceful moment. you seemed calm. he had won a game and you were in a good mood today. baby boy or girl mustn’t be giving you too much trouble so that was a win in itself. so he just leaned down and kissed you lovingly. “hi.”

“hi,” you smiled, pecking him three more times before he rose again. “well done today.”

“thank you,” his hand touched your belly for about two seconds before you swept it off smoothly with your own, squeezing it instead. you smiled up at him again, “love you.”

he kissed you again trying to hide his confusion – but something was up. you were being odd. “love you too.”

and he left and headed for eli’s room, leaving you to let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding before slouching again and continuing with your dinner.

-

the rest of that evening, rúben was correct. you weren’t yourself.

your mind was somewhere else, and your head wasn’t out of your phone. constantly scrolling, you had overanalysed every picture captured of you today and tried not to nitpick. reading comments. comparing yourself. he wondered what you were doing.

but everyone else did have small bumps. everyone’s looked so cute. they didn’t use pregnancy as an excuse to eat whatever they wanted or slack with self-care. they still wore tight clothing. they still looked gorgeous. you began to compare yourself to all these other wives and girlfriends on the page, wondering how on earth they looked that good.

ummmm, ‘cause maybe they’re 12 weeks along and you’re triple that?

the next morning, rúben kissed you in the kitchen before leaving. “what’s that?”

“what?”

“that,” he nodded to the drink in your hand.

“a smoothie?”

“for breakfast?”

“well yeah,” you furrowed your brows, and he immediately shook his head, pulling that judgemental, disapproving look you sometimes wanted to punch. “no, no, come on, don’t be silly, now,” he almost laughed, “you need to eat something proper.”

“it’s a smoothie, it has everything i need in it?”

“y/n, make something to eat. you’re almost 8 months pregnant for crying out loud,” he looked at you seriously. he didn’t want to sound like he was scolding you or making you feel stupid but you knew he was worried about the lack.

overprotective rúben had always been a constant in your relationship but when you were pregnant — phew, “you got my baby in there.”

“–and he or she is looked after, it’s a healthy drink—”

he took it from your hand and kissed your cheek in the process, taking it with him to training with a smirk, “stop being lazy and cook.”

you were furious. you were actually annoyed that he had taken the drink himself and didn’t find it funny. he kissed eli’s head and the door closed, and you were left highly irritated.

you couldn’t see eli shrink, but he did, looking wide-eyed at the table as he considered his dad a brave brave man in that moment to do that to you - considering the look of your face.

and as a pregnant woman with her emotional struggling to stay in check - you lost it as they all blended together once eli was dropped off at school, sitting in a car park of a café you regretted going too now that you sat with your decaf latte and triple-choc muffin. the frustration quickly turned to tears as you had a moment, eyes in your hands, thinking over everything the last couple days.

yes you were pregnant, but was there a need to be that big? were you even that big compared to others? were you really that bad to look at? that unflattering? did it even looking like you were pregnant? the loose clothing probably didn’t help, but who wanted to wear tight clothing? pregnancy was hard - it was hard to glamourise it all the time!

you’d never cried over looking bad the first time you were pregnant, maybe once or twice when a pair of jeans didn’t fit or you couldn’t reach your shoelaces, but never over the way you felt about yourself. you actually were starting to feel disgusting, and it was embarrassing because you let randomers make you feel this way!

. . and then the pathetic-ness turned into anger because why were people such assholes?! how can they not keep an opinion to themselves?! making you feel bad about your baby!

. . and then the anger turned to guilt because your sweet little baby was just trying to grow and be healthy and you were upset over it. tears again.

you didn’t know how to fix it. the damage was already done, you had a month left, there was no going back now with salads and smoothies, you yanked your paper bag with your muffin off the floor, eating your money’s worth. rúben subconsciously popped into your head as he was probably eating some fruit salad or nutritious sandwich at this time.

oh rúben. you wished he was here but you also knew you wouldn’t want him near you at the minute, not when you weren’t feeling yourself and you had people in your comments telling you he was on his way of replacing you.

he would call you stupid, but rúben just wouldn’t understand. he wouldn’t get being on the other side, the built in competition that automatically comes with being a woman, more than ever with this lifestyle he had given you. one where you’re compared left right and centre with a certain standard to achieve.

you bet every handbag you owned, he’d screw his face up and go ‘are you serious’ if you told him your issue. he knew you were above anyone commenting stupid things on your posts and found it immature of you in a way if you did take those things to heart - i mean they were nobodies! jealous nobodies! but that’s easy for him to say, his comments are flooded with never ending support, guys praising him for his talent, physique and hard work and most girls telling him to hurry up and leave you. spamming with flame and tongue emojis, thirsting over your man just the way you did, only boosting his ego more which rúben did not need.

so you just felt silly, and picked at your muffin, accepting your were going to be a whale wag.

you felt like a slob when you got back home, staying on the couch after cleaning, and then crying except you were watching a movie to blame it on that.

you still couldn’t get comments out of your head, i mean what was an ‘expired wag?!’ or a ‘busted oven?!’ what did that mean? and why always the skull emojis?!

scrolling once again through photos of comparison, you scrolled onto a beautiful pic of your beautiful bestie, ines, and straight away phoned her. “hey.”

“hey! what’s up! what’s going on? why do you sound you out of breath?”

“why do you think?” you laughed.

“girl are you crying again?!”

and you started talking. you had to get things off your chest and you needed ines to make you feel better, to assure you and let you rant, and she happily did, after all, you’d always been there when she was having a moment.

“–what did rúben say?”

“nothing, i haven’t told him anything. he’ll just tell me i’m being ridiculous.”

“he won’t!”

“ines, he would, he’s not like bernardo. rúben’s harsh!”

“so are you! which is why i can’t believe you’re still crying over this!”

he was harsh in the good way, in the same way you were. you were both practical. real. realistic. you picked each other up and told each off when you were being ridiculous. pulled each other out their asses. brought you back down to earth.

but you just needed comforted at this current moment by your girl.

as you continued to chat and laugh more than you thought, the front door opened without your acknowledgment and rubes stepped through. freshly showered after a long morning of training, he instantly heard your voice rambling over the phone. he took notice of the tissue also crumpled on the floor by the door (you’d been carelessly tossing them for dramatic effect) and paused after he thought he’d heard a sad sniffle. he closed the door quietly and crept near the living room.

“i can’t help it, i do just feel . . blegh,” you felt like you were being ridiculous but you couldn’t help it. “like, why does everyone keep making a big fuss about it? am i really that massively huge or am i just not liked?”

he heard another woman’s laughter on your phone and recognised her as soon as she began talking to you, “y/n, i promise no one is making a fuss of it, it probably just seems in your face all the time because you keep going back to check. i promise the world is not broadcasting you,” ines chuckled sweetly, which followed your sad laugh also.

“well the wag world does!”

“y/n!” she laughed, “you’re overthinking it. i promise you have nothing to worry about. the only person who’s opinion should matter to you is rúben’s and everybody knows he has you on a pedestal!” rúben found himself smiling. he’d always been a fan of ines. “he’s called you his wife since you came to manchester! he’s always been proud to show you off, you look good - you look amazing! people are just saying that stuff about you to make themselves feel better.”

“mm, i guess,” you sniffed, holding your forehead. “i don’t know, it’s just been getting to me . . and i’m not saying to rúben because he’ll tell me i’m being stupid. i wouldn’t be surprised if he was leaving an hour earlier in the mornings to get away from me. it’s not like my looks can make up for my psycho-ness anymore,” you joked.

“y/n!” she tried not to laugh. “though, pregnancy psycho-ness is definitely real.”

it is, rúben mentally agreed also, though his heart still sank further as he heard you talk about yourself in such ways. he didn’t want to call you ridiculous but come on, you were pregnant! didn’t they all count as compliments to a pregnant lady?!

“it is,” you let out a sigh, “i wouldn’t want to be around me either, just this big angry rhino walking around the house,” you laughed together, “he goes to a paris event on friday anyway, he’ll get a break and have plenty of french models to—”

a clear of a throat had you whipping your head to the door, seeing rúben’s hard stare. your mouth went dry. “uhhh, ines i’ll call you back.”

you felt bad hanging up as she was speaking back, too shocked you’d been heard rambling for the last couple minutes. or probably longer! how long had he been standing there?!

“listen—”

“french models?! french models, y/n.”

“rúben, it’s not in context—”

“oh i heard the context, i heard everything,” he came in the room, not one spot of happiness found on his face. he was fuming. you could tell, and disappointed too, you felt like eli getting told off by him, throwing yourself back into the couch as he stood with that gruff, intimidating look, hands shoved in his pockets.

“you don’t get it—” you could already feel the tears welling in your eyes, though a pit of frustration was brewing in your chest hot and fast. this was going one of two ways.

“what don’t i get? you don’t tell me what’s wrong when i ask you!”

“‘cause you wouldn’t understand!”

“ok but what i do understand is my wife accusing me of what? getting to pick which ‘french model’ i want to take home next week?”

now your face fell flat, realising how ridiculous and cruel that sounded. you shouldn’t accuse him of that kind of stuff.

“rubes, i just—” your mouth felt dry again. tears brimming again, you could feel how hot they were. the words were on the tip of your tongue but you didn’t know how they were gonna come out.

“what is it? tell me,” he pushed, eager for you to actually get out what you wanted to say so he could help sort it. “i’m here to listen.”

and you did, you unleashed it all. “people are assholes. your fans are assholes. i’m sorry but i cannot believe the stuff people have no issue saying to other people - pregnant people at that! as if the 9 months aren’t hard enough, i have this mob of men and women on my back, judging and critiquing my every outting. i can’t do it anymore, it’s actually ruining whatever self-confidence i have left!” the tears were streaming as you began your rant, choking down sobs as you moved your hands, a fury behind all the sadness.

rúben crouched down, wanting to be nearer as you let it all out. “every day, every hour, i have someone online, reminding me off how big i am, how unflattering my paparazzi pic is, how whale-like i am! how hard it’s gonna be to shift this baby weight! i’m getting put in competition with every other pregnant wife and girlfriend of your teammate and showed how much better they pull it off! how gorgeous they look all the time! how their bumps are ‘cute’ and small and ‘suits them.’ i heard it myself at your game the other day! it’s like they’ve never seen an un-photoshopped pregnant woman before!” you met his eyes, realising you were probably being silly and that there were bigger problems in the world. “i just feel disgusting, rúben. i never felt like this with eli, i was in this perfect little bubble but this time so different. i don’t want to leave the house when i know a monstrosity of photos are getting taken of me, pointing out every flaw. i don’t have a cute, small bump! i do look like a whale! i can’t dress sexy! and i get what people are saying when they say it’ll be a bit before you can look at me again ‘cause god knows—”

“shh,” he quickly silenced you, placing a finger to your lips. his brows were furrowed as yours did, fed up of hearing you ramble about all the bad things about yourself. he felt pain in a way. he just couldn’t believe you actually thought these things about yourself. “wha— . . . are you being serious?”

“OH MY GOD!” you threw your arms up. see!

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry, meu amor,” his big hands softly caressed your legs in front of him, along your smooth thighs to stop you from exploding again, “i’m sorry. it’s just . . i . . it annoys me that you let these things get to you, these random, strange people that you don’t even know. you take their opinion over mine. so mine doesn’t matter, it doesn’t count?” he looked you deeply in the eye, “how does that make sense? explain that to me.”

your head hit the cushion as you groaned but rúben held your hands comfortingly. he didn’t want to make you feel stupid, but he wanted to hear your thought process. “to me, it’s like . . you have the choice of walking into a room full of all these people who hate you, and you know the hate you, after being in one full of people you love . . and you go into the hateful one and are surprised that all these people are saying all these bad things about you when you could have just left it alone and focused on the lovely ones - from people who matter to you! who are actually in your life! do you understand?”

you nodded along, entranced by his eyes and how they were able to ground you alone. “you know that i think you’re the best thing in the world. you know i would love you if—” he thought off the top of his head, “you had 10 extra toes. a third eye. if you had a cow nose. elf ears!” your hair slipped silkily through his fingers, “you know i think you’re the most beautiful woman ever even dressed in a trash bag. i would still love you if you did wear trash bags. if you had a cow nose. if you weighed the same as a cow. if you weighed the same as a baby cow,” you broke a chuckle at that. “i’ve loved you through our ugly teen years, when i shaved my hair and your eyebrows were stick thin,” you laughed more as he let out a breath of relief, “i loved you when with vomit down your shirt and your hair dyed that weird colour—”

“rúbennn . .”

“what? and i loved you when you had eli in your stomach, and he was big baby,” his hand touched your belly, moving it in the same motion he always did because that’s when he got to feel the small kicks of this baby dias. “i loved you even more even when i saw how he came out,” he shot you a wildered look.

you facepalmed, dragging your hand down dreadfully at the thought of having to relive that moment all over again in over a months time.

his features turned as his thoughts turned sour, “why are you letting stupid fucking people affect you?”

“i don’t know . . i guess ‘cause so many people are saying it i . . it must be true to some extent—”

“y/n—”

“seriously, rúben. i don’t have a cute, small bump. ines and rebecca are always such sweet—”

“Y/N! have you SEEN the size of bernardo and phil next to me! is it any wonder they’re small! their child comes out the same size as them!” his hand shot out with passion.

now your head was in your hand with muffled laughter, caught off guard by his statement. “seriously! seriously, now you’re supposed to be the smart one,” he tried to look at you, that loving smile shining your way as his heart sang at the sound of you laughter. “you’re shocked that me, that we, have big babies . . that ines has a much smaller bump than you . . are you serious? that rebecca has a smaller bump than you? rebecca, phil and elway stacked on top of each other wouldn’t even reach the height of me!”

“rúben,” you laughed, feeling an actual blush of embarrassment coat your face at how stupid he’d made you feel, but in a good way.

he was so right. what were you thinking?

“i’m like, the biggest guy on the team! sorry i didn’t realise that was gonna be a problem for you,” you lightly hit his shoulder to wrap up the sarcasm, still giggling. he looked at you from the floor, his hands still on you, on your leg on bump — the bump that he did make look small next to his hand. “and please remember you’re a month away from giving birth, you’re supposed to be a healthy size. and i been going to training an hour earlier ‘cause i know when this one comes along, i’ll not want to go as much and i’ll want to stay with you both. i’ll start working on my dad bod . .” he felt the small, subtle movement happening inside, but he could feel them if he kept still enough.

“you’d look good with both.” you rolled your eyes.

“and you’d still look better. y/n, you’re not a whale. please stop saying that,” he finally crept to his feet, climbing on the couch on top of you, leaning his arm behind your head. “you are the most beautiful-est woman to me and no-one, NO-ONE can convince me otherwise. you’re my standard of perfect, of gorgeous and sexy and all the rest of it. i’ve found you sexy before this baby, during this baby, and after this baby — i still get comments of people telling me how ugly i look when you’re next to me! you bring my value down!”

his arm wrapped around your neck while the other threw itself over your bump, shifting and snuggling into the sofa more comfortingly, you relaxed alongside him, the tears no trickling down but with good reason behind them as you were shocked to find your love growing even more for rúben when you thought it was impossible. “i don’t know what comments you’re seeing because all i see are the ones calling you a milf, and it takes too much time to try and report them all.”

you held his hand at your shoulder, his lips kissing your cheek repeatedly, over and over again. you knew how much he loved you. “yeah, you’re right. fans are just . . assholes.”

“fans are assholes,” he agreed, stroking your cheekbone, “. . don’t listen to them. you think i listen to everything they say about me?” he perked a brow.

sometimes! you wanted to say but knew better. it was rhetorical question, and you knew his sweet intentions.

“alright? i don’t so why should you? you’re hot stuff babe,” he looked at the side of your face, inspecting every little freckle and faint scar, he just wanted to never stop kissing you. “i love you the way you are. eli loves you for the way you are, and this baby,” he rubbed circles on your belly, “he or she is going to be so unbelievably lucky when they see who they have as their mam. i know it’s not the smallest bump but i think it’s the cutest i’ve ever saw, with my baby girl or boy in there,” he kissed the size of your stomach. he grew more and more excited each day as he got a day closer to meeting who was inside. he couldn’t wait. “. . who they get their good looks from and skill and personality - well, i mean i would like to take some credit for the both of those ‘cause i mean their daddy is pretty c—”

you playfully jabbed his side, making him laugh. “yeah, he’s the hottest one on the field,” you glanced at him, kissing his cheek.

one thing about him, he’d always blessed you with beautiful children.

“yeah, and their mum is coolest one at the school pick up,” his lips trailed along your cheek to your jaw, the slight scruff of his beard tickling you. “you’re the biggest milf to walk the planet–”

“rúbennn,” you chuckled, blushing at his words whilst trying to push him away.

“i’m serious,” he proceeded, peppering kissed down your neck, “and she’s coming to paris with me for the weekend so she can outshine me like she does at every event she comes to.”

you laughed at that, smiling dreamily as he proceeding to love on you.

“and eli?”

“elias gets to stay with his favourite uncle who owes a favour,” he winked.

“hmm. ok.”

“and i’ll give her a reason to cry if she starts thinking like that again,” he whispered in your ear.

your heart slipped a beat. “oh yeah?”

“ohh yeahhh,” he nodded, standing to his feet, not before a loud ‘smack’ echoed the room as he mimicked what your poor backside would get if you kept up that kind of behaviour. “see you upstairs, mama.”

you blew your hair from your face, heart thumping, your hands slowly crept up to your adorable little bump where you caressed it gently as he headed for upstairs, whispering softly, “you are soo lucky he’s your papai.”

your heart raced as he peeled his hoodie off, back muscles staring right at you as he headed for your room, you felt your insides begin to sizzle.

— but you were even luckier he was your husband.

[sunsetchicane]

i love you, i'm sorry [QH43]

quinn hughes x fem!reader

word count: 2.9k

summary: two years after breaking things off with Quinn, you find yourself going to Game 1 of Round 2 of the Playoffs, completely unprepared to see the man you still harbour feelings for.

based off of: this is loosely based off of I Love You, I'm Sorry by Gracie Abrams

warnings: aggressive amounts of pining (like, probably annoying), two swear words, a few kisses, mentions of a breakup (so like, kinda angst? idk man), copious amounts of cheesiness, probably extremely inaccurate descriptions of the game, not great writing lol. let me know if i missed anything!

author's note: okay, i haven't written anything on here yet due to a horrendous case of writer's block and many hours of working. so, this is definitely not my best work, but it was a fun way to try move past my writing slump. i really do hope that anyone who reads this does enjoy! love, addi <3

Vancouver’s streets preserve memories well. You found that out when, even two years after things had fallen to pieces, you couldn’t go anywhere without seeing the two of you holding hands, sharing quiet laughs, and stealing kisses. You’d thought that after two years you would’ve been able to shake those memories off when they plagued your mind; but it was hard when he was plastered across banners and fans sported his jersey for half the year. 

He was making his name known throughout the NHL, and you couldn’t ignore the buzz around Quinn Hughes when the Canucks made it to the Stanley Cup Playoffs. 

After you and Quinn had broken things off, you had to find separate friend groups to belong in. The two of you had shared too many mutual friends. The group of ladies you did manage to find yourself among knew nothing about your past relationship with the captain of the Canucks. When the city was gearing up for the first round of the playoffs, even your friends couldn’t stop talking about the sport. 

You were standing outside, leaning against the railing on a BC ferry, returning from visiting family on the Island, when you received a call from your friend Lydia. You picked up without hesitation. 

“Hey, what’s up?” you asked. 

She immediately giggled, which honestly had you a little scared. “I have a surprise,” she said excitedly, the last word dragged out. 

You snorted. “Am I allowed to ask what it is?” 

“It’s a really big surprise, and you have to promise not to scream when I tell you,” she laughed, acting like a teenage girl again. It was one of the things you really did love about her – her ability to bring childlike joy with her wherever she went. 

“I promise not to scream, Lyd,” you assured her, hoping she was satisfied. 

She paused for dramatic effect, and you let her. You knew she was having fun with it. 

“We’re going to the first game of round 2 of the playoffs!” she squealed. 

Your phone nearly slipped through your fingers, almost lost to the sea. You stepped away from the railing, suddenly very glad there was no one on the deck with you. Your heart clenched in your chest. The last time you had been to a game was when you and Quinn had still been together. He wouldn’t even know you were in the crowd, but you would be painfully aware of him in the centre of the arena. 

“Okay, you’re even quieter than I thought you’d be,” Lydia commented, reminding you that there was someone on the other end of the line. 

You debated for a moment what to say. Would it best to just blurt out that you had dated Quinn Hughes and you were not exactly ready to go watch him play again? Definitely not. 

“Uh, yeah, I’m just surprised!” That wasn’t a lie. “How’d you get the tickets?” 

“My dad,” she said simply. “When I told him I wanted to go see the Canucks, he was suddenly the proudest parent in the world. You know how he is – once he gets an idea in his head, whether it’s planted there by me or not, he has to do it.” 

“Wow, that’s–that’s crazy!” you said stiffly, still unsure of how to act. 

“Yeah, and it gets better! We’re sitting right behind the Canucks’ bench!” 

You nearly choked on nothing. “What?” 

“I know, right? I don’t know how my dad managed it, but he did,” she told you, completely unaware of your stuttering heart. “Who knows, maybe we’ll catch some players’ eyes,” she joked, and you tried to force a laugh out with her. 

“Yeah, maybe.” What you didn’t add out loud was your brain screaming please no. 

After a few more minutes of chatting and you pretending to be completely sound of mind, Lydia said goodbye, telling you she would send the details soon. 

You pocketed your phone and leaned against the railing once more. You watched as the sun brushed the horizon, casting a beautiful pink against the clouds. Vancouver was getting close, and for obvious reasons, you were suddenly dreading it. You wanted to sit on the ferry until it returned to Vancouver Island. 

You sighed and rested your chin on your folded arms. You heard a faint buzzing sound above you, and lifted your eyes to the sky. A plane was coming to land at the Vancouver Airport. As it approached, you let yourself imagine it was Quinn flying back from Nashville, and you felt your heart tighten in your chest once more, because you were terrified to see him again, but also because you still missed him. Maybe you were scared to see him because you missed him. 

You dropped your forehead to your arms once more and groaned loudly, the ocean and the brightening city lights your only listening companions. 

When the morning of May 8th arrived, you found yourself unable to shake the anxiety that had made a home in your chest over the last few days. There was a tenseness in your shoulders that never left, and a squeezing at your heart that seemed relentless. 

The group chat you shared with your friends had been buzzing incessantly, the girls incredibly excited. Every now and then you made your fingers put a message out there that hopefully hid your anxieties from them. 

After much procrastination, you eventually made your way to your closet. After tugging on a simple pair of blue jeans, you reached towards the back of your closet. Your fingers closed around the unmistakable, thick material of the jersey. Taking a deep breath, you pulled it out. Your only Canucks jersey of course, had to be Quinn’s home jersey from two seasons ago. No one would know it was the jersey that he had pulled over his head before every home game. However, you knew. There was no C on the left side of the chest, and your mind was pulled back to the relationship you had shared.  

You often questioned why you and Quinn had even ended things. You missed him so much still, and you were plagued by the way you knew it had been the wrong choice. You had been growing apart as he was dealing with growing attention and expectations within his career, and a promotion at your own job had stolen your energy and attention. You had both been tired and short with one another, and eventually the tension built and had blown up in a terrible way. 

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to force both the guilt and continued yearning out of your busy mind. 

When Lydia texted that she and the girls were on the way to your apartment, you reluctantly pulled the jersey over your head. The sleeves covered most of your hands, and the fabric fell past your hips and part way down your thighs. You pulled on a pair of shoes and left the safe space that was your apartment, locking the door behind you. 

Rogers Arena was packed and the energy in the building made you feel like you could start vibrating. You and your friends held hands so as not to get separated. You were glad when your friends made no comment on how tightly you squeezed their hands, or how sweaty your palms might have been. 

You were made significantly more nervous when you realised that Lydia had not been exaggerating about your seats. You were sitting right behind the bench. 

The arena was filling up steadily, and you sat there in between your friends, not speaking a single word. It had been a couple years since you had been here, and while you were very nervous, the familiarity came rushing back to you and it helped to slow your fast beating heart. 

If you closed your eyes, you could imagine Quinn smiling at you from the other side of the glass, and laughing when you blew him a kiss. 

You wrapped your arms gently around yourself, the once very stiff material of the jersey now very easily shifted and manipulated. You knew it didn’t smell like him anymore, but when you let yourself get lost in the feeling of his old jersey, it was like he was right there. You were wrapped in him still, and you doubted it would ever go away. 

You were shocked out of your own thoughts when your friends, along with the rest of the fans around you, started cheering. The Canucks and the Oilers were on the ice, starting to warm up. Your eyes searched the ice quickly, and gliding easily across the ice on the opposite side of rink, was the captain, the number 43 embroidered on his jersey, just like the one you adorned. 

Your own cheeks heated up when it really hit you that you were wearing his old jersey. You weren’t together anymore; what were you thinking? He could see you– what would he think when he saw you right behind his bench, wearing the jersey he had gifted you?

You suddenly wanted to throw up more than ever. He exchanged a few words with Elias, and laughed at something his buddy had said. Your heart ached in longing once more. You had missed his laugh so much. 

Quinn now had facial hair, something he hadn’t had when he was with you. His hair was longer, peeking out from beneath his helmet. He already seemed much more grown up. He looked like a captain, something who had become used to leading his team. Quinn had always been somewhat confident in his abilities as a hockey player, but it was easy to tell that he had really gotten used to his role on the team and had come into his own over the past two years. 

The girls grabbed your hands and walked into the aisle, just to get right up to the glass. Your face burned and you tried to hide behind some of your friends. You kept your heads down and your arms folded. 

Your friends held up hats and other paraphernalia that they desperately wanted signed by players. 

“Y/N!” One of your friends practically shouted. You suddenly noticed that they had all stopped cheering. You looked up to see them parted in front of you. 

Quinn was on the other side of the glass, looking right at you. 

Your friends shoved you up the glass, giggling and squealing. You nearly ran into the glass from the force of their shoves. Quinn laughed at you, his smile exactly how you remembered it. 

He pointed at the white Canucks towel in your hands and shouted, “toss it over!” The arena was so loud you were glad he had mouthed it clearly. You hesitated but threw the towel over. With one glove off and in the other hand, he caught it. He gestured to one of your friends to throw over the Sharpie she was holding. She did gladly, happy to be included. He caught it easily and started to write quickly on the white fabric. Your heart did flips while watching him, and your hands shook with nothing to hold onto. 

He finally capped the pen and threw both the towel and marker over the glass. You struggled to catch it, but thankfully, you managed to hold onto it. You held it flat before you. 

Meet me by my car after. Usual spot. Your breath stopped slightly when you saw a rushed heart drawn next to the words. You looked back up to see him putting his glove back on. He gave you a warm smile that set you on a fire from the tips of your toes to the top of your head. You took a deep breath and nodded to him. His smile widened slightly. Before he turned to skate away, you saw him mouth the words, “nice jersey.” You stuttered for a second, and he simply winked and turned. 

Your friends all screamed and crowded you, looking at the towel. 

“Usual spot? What the fuck is going on?” Lydia yelled over the noise, cackling. 

You just blushed and shook your head, returning to your seat with the towel gripped tightly in your hands. 

As the teams continued to warm up, you explained as quickly as you could that you and Quinn had once been together. Your friends, of course, were shocked but also very excited for you at the prospect of reuniting with him. You simply waved your hands in protest. 

“I don’t even know if he wants to get back together with me! He might just want to catch up or something… we’re cool now and I don’t want to mess anything up.” 

“Girl, please!” one of your friends shouted. “He drew a motherfucking heart and winked at you! Of course he wants you back.”

You all laughed and you embraced the next blush that warmed your cheeks. 

The players left the ice, and minutes later, the lights went dark. The deafening sound of nearly 19,000 people screaming almost broke your eardrums. Blue light filled the room, and you looked up to see what was playing on the large screens above you. 

You watched the intro video and let a nostalgic, giddy feeling overtake you. You couldn’t help but smile. 

The arena fell back into nearly full darkness. You heard the beginning of a familiar sound of twinkly guitar that dragged you right back to 2011. Goosebumps rose up along your skin all over your body. That was the last time the Canucks had made it to the Playoff finals, and you hoped dearly that they could get there again. The playing of Where The Streets Have No Name from their intro from 2011 made hope take hold of you.

You couldn’t help but raise your particularly special white rally towel in the air to wave alongside all of the other Canucks fans in the building. 

It had been surprisingly easy to get into the players’ parking garage. Despite it being two years since you had been in the building, you were recognized by several people, who let you walk wherever you wanted. 

Your friends had practically shoved you to go after the game, screaming after you to call them later. You had laughed and walked away, your steps lighter than they had been in a long while. 

You later found yourself standing by Quinn’s car. It was the same one he’d had when you had been together. Your hand brushed the shining hood of the car, and you could see yourself in the passenger seat, laughing at something he’d said as the two of you drove around downtown Vancouver. 

“Thank God you actually showed up.” 

You whipped around, seeing a freshly showered Quinn in sweatpants and a hoodie making his way towards you. 

You tugged on the hem of the jersey, your heart beating quicker and quicker with every step he took. 

He stopped in front of you, and when you looked up, you both spoke. 

“I love you.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

Your eyes nearly popped out of your head. “You-what?” 

He bit his bottom lip before repeating himself. “I love you. I know it’s been two years, but-” 

“I love you, too,” you said quickly, blood roaring in your ears. “And I am so, so sorry. I never should’ve-” 

It was his turn to cut you off. “Don’t apologise, please. It’s not your fault.”

“Can you… can you please accept my apology, at least?” 

He smiled softly. “I forgive you. I’m sorry, too.” 

“I forgive you, too,” you whispered softly, your heart swelling with affection as you looked at him. You felt an intense relief flood your body. Your shoulders finally relaxed for the first time in what felt like years. He reached out and wrapped you in a warm hug. You melted into it, returning the gesture. 

“I missed you. So much,” you mumbled into his hoodie. 

One of hands gently scratched the back of your neck like he used to do. “I missed you, too.” He pulled away just enough to lean down and kiss your lips softly. Nothing had ever felt so natural. His playoff beard scratched your face and you laughed at the sensation, pulling away. 

“Not used to the beard,” you admitted, smiling widely. 

He smiled, too. “Yeah, what do you think? Should I keep it around?” 

You shrugged, leaning back into him. “Well, you’re very handsome either way.” 

“You think?” 

“Mhm. Your hair also looks very good. I like it longer like this,” you told him, ruffling his brown hair. He swatted your hand away and kissed your cheek. 

“Noted.” He looked down at me again. “Should probably get you a new jersey.” 

“Hm, you think I need the big ole C on here, Captain?” 

He shook his head, blushing. “Don’t call me that.” 

You laughed, wrapping your arms around him, bringing his head down for you to kiss. “Couldn’t help myself.” You grabbed his hands. “Congratulations on the big win, by the way.” 

“I can’t believe you came. I thought I was hallucinating or something when I saw you,” he told you honestly. 

“Well, I’m glad I came,” you admitted, running a hand through his hair. 

“You have no idea how happy I am right now,” he said, smiling wider than you had seen all night. 

You laughed, feeling pure joy in your heart. “I think I might have an idea.” 

[the-oblivious-writer]

Jealous Lover

Sam Carpenter x Fem!Reader

One-shot

Summary: Your eagerness for discussions regarding your favorite band leads to an argument with your girlfriend

Warning(s): Swearing, no pronouns but sam uses 'girlfriend' once, jealous!sam, drunk!tara, & mentions of puking/gagging

Notes: For all the fellow passionate music lovers out there, this one's for you. Maybe one day I'll dive into how I think punk/rock in general's played a role in Sam's life and how she's passed down her love for music to Tara

This is not how you wanted to spend your night. You were dragged out to a party you didn’t even want to go to. You would much rather spend the night with your girlfriend. Much rather. But you kind of owed your friend since you always managed to make up an excuse for these things in the past. Her own girlfriend was out of town visiting family so you were second in line to be her plus one. 

You were actually having an okay time, still missing your girlfriend, but you ended up having an interesting conversation with this guy you met while grabbing drinks for you and your friend. The conversation regarded music. You could never pass up the opportunity to go on and on about something you actively worshiped. But unfortunately, this little peace you found didn’t last when from the corner of your eye you noticed a familiar figure tumbling her way over to the couch. It was then you looked over to see your girlfriend’s little sister sitting with her friends. 

Ah, crap.

You knew for a fact she was not supposed to be here. You thought about what was in store for her when she got home before excusing yourself and walking over to her.

“Tara,” you said to get her attention. “Hey, uh—”

She looked up from the couch to you with a bright smile plastered on her face before getting up and wrapping her arms around you, momentarily catching you off guard. You almost forgot she was a clingy drunk. 

“Look it’s Y/N!” She shouted to her friends as you subtly winced from her volume.

“Yeah, it’s me,” you shortly laughed. You looked over Tara to see her friends, Mindy and Anika, wave to you in which you returned with a nod. “I'll take this from here,” you told them while helping Tara up after she tripped on her own foot. 

Mindy gave you a thumbs up while Tara started to slump in your arms. “Tara?” You looked down to see her wearing a more tired expression that matched her sluggish demeanor. Another thing you noticed in the time you knew the girl is that she had quite a bit of mood swings. 

“Let’s get you home,” you said with a comforting pat on her shoulder. 

—

Sam could not believe Tara. She specifically told Tara no to the party she was now off to retrieve her from. She just got home from her therapy too, Quinn had accidently slipped and told Sam where Tara was before going back to her room. As soon as Sam heard this, she rushed to put on the jacket she had just taken off. 

“That sneaky little shi—” Sam was reaching for her taser but stopped once she heard the locks on the door begin to turn, stopping in her tracks. Tara walked through the door, hiccupping and giggling, as you held her up.

“You Carpenters are really something when you’re drunk—oh, Sam! Hi!” You stopped walking, now looking at your girlfriend like a deer in headlights. You knew she would be home by now. You knew you would have some explaining to do. Yet you still found yourself unprepared as you saw her standing right by the doorway because she was presumably getting ready to hunt down her sister.

“I have a perfectly good explanation for this,” you said.

She furrowed her eyebrows, tilting her head as she crossed her arms and looked at you. “Really? You do?” She looked so intimidating, so in control of the situation. It was so hot. But you had to focus.

“Mhm,” was the only thing you managed to muster.

“Then, please, enlighten me because it looks like my sister snuck off to a party against my wishes, yet you seem to be aware of that part. So, care to tell why you didn’t throw me in the loop?”

“Okay,” you lightly sighed. You nodded your head in the direction of the living room and Sam followed. You laid Tara on the couch before you finally spoke. “When I went there, I didn’t know she would also be there. We just ran into each other and as soon as we did I brought her here,” you calmly spoke and you could see Sam slowly start to ease at your words. 

Yet that ease only lasted so long before a drunk Tara pitched in. Sam was about to reply when she was cut off by the younger Carpenter. “And some guy was flirting with Y/N,” she said before stretching out her arms and dramatically yawning. 

Always an instigator. 

“Some guy was what?” You could hear it in Sam’s voice that any ease you brought her disapparated. If her voice didn’t give you anything, her expression certainly did; her eyebrows were scrunched as she clenched her jaw and flared her nostrils. 

“It wasn’t like that,” you quickly tried to reassure your girlfriend. “He noticed the album cover on my shirt and he said it's his favorite album. A conversation struck up but it was nothing more than two fans expressing their mutual appreciation for a band and their music.” 

“You talked about music?” Her tone was defensive as she adjusted her crossed arms, attempting a stoic stance to cover any hurt she felt upon hearing what you just revealed. 

She knew how much you valued music, what it meant to you. It isn’t like your love language, it is your love language. When you first started hanging out, instead of the typical bouquet of flowers, you made her a playlist, gifting it to her on a CD. Now she finds any excuse to listen to it 24/7, never growing sick of the intimate playlist you constructed with songs that you said made you think of her. Even on your first date with the older Carpenter, the two of you talked for hours discussing all the greats—from Kurdt Cobain to Jimi Hendrix. Sam also had a connection to music, growing up it was her escape from the outside world. So, inevitably, it played a big part in your relationship. You two met in a record store for Pete's sake. So yes, she grew a somewhat possessive once she found out you were discussing one of your all time favorite bands with a man who was supposedly flirting with you. 

“You sure that’s all he wanted to talk about? Wouldn't be the first time someone's blatantly flirted with you but you were too oblivious to notice.” She let out a dry chuckle, her voice vindictive. 

“Yes, that’s it. Music is all we talked about. What? Am I not allowed to talk to other people now?” You remarked, a little more unapologetic than you intended. Sam didn’t have a jealousy problem per se, she just had trouble drawing the line between possessive and protective. Often, those lines blurred to the point where even you had trouble telling them apart. 

Fine, maybe she did have a jealousy problem.

“Talking and flirting are two different things. Excuse me if I don’t want my girlfriend conversing with people who want more than musical insight,” Sam defended pointedly. 

“You’re saying that as if he was all over me. The point is he wasn’t.” Your patience was thinning as you were running out of reassuring words to say. 

“I’m—” Sam had begun but was once again cut off by Tara who was now gagging.

“Shit, I think I’m gonna puke!” Tara shouted as she tried to make it to the bathroom. You and Sam rushed to her aid, the both of you desperately hoping that you would get Tara to the bathroom in time. 

—

After about an hour of holding Tara’s hair back as she puked—you and Sam rotating—you and Sam finally managed to put a very pouty Tara to bed. As Sam adjusted Tara's pillow, you pulled her blanket over her and adjusted the sides. Sam kissed her forehead and you followed with a light pat on her head before the both of you said ‘goodnight’ to the now snoring girl. 

Upon hearing the soft click Tara’s bedroom door gave from gently closing it, the two of you let out exhausted sighs. You both walked to the kitchen, Sam leaning against the counter as you opened the cabinets looking for a mug.

“You want some tea?” You asked your girlfriend, already grabbing the lavender tea she stored in the drawers just below where the mugs were kept. 

You glanced over to see her nodding, giving you a nonverbal answer. You got the tea kettle out and filled it with water using the kitchen sink. You then placed it on the stove, set the heat to an appropriate temperature, and then placed the small box of lavender tea to the side for when the water is finished boiling. Another moment of silence passes before you divert your attention from the kettle to your girlfriend. 

“Sam…”  You finally spoke in a gentle voice.

“I know.” She wasn’t curt with her words but understanding. 

You lightly exhaled, making your way over next to Sam. You leaned against the counter before asking, “Are you gonna talk to me or just try to wait it out like every other time?” You weren’t demanding but genuinely asking her.

You looked at her, your faces not so far apart, you saw the reluctant and shameful look she wore. This made you slightly furrow your eyebrows as you looked at the woman. 

“I hate the thought of you with anyone else,” she answered. She looked to the ground in shame. Shame for letting her thoughts consume her like this, shame for letting it lead to an argument with you. What if you discovered just how deep her jealousy ran? You would leave her, that’s what. At least, that’s what she told herself would happen.

You lifted her chin with your free hand so she would look at you, but you saw her eyes hesitate to comply. “Look at me, Sammy,” you told her and it was enough for her to listen. “I’m yours and only yours. No one else can have me like you do. No one else,” you said with great truth. 

Sam’s heart skipped a beat at your words, melting at how your thumb softly grazed her chin. Your touch could have her crumble in mere seconds. That scares apart of her, but another part of her can't help but admire it.

“I was being ridiculous.” She shook her head, still feeling guilt for giving you a hard time for talking about something you’re passionate about.

“That’s in the past now.” You gave her a smile that’s always been enough to brighten her days. “Just know you’re the only music dork I want in my bed,” you teased.

A gorgeous smile grazed Sam’s face at this comment. “Oh, yeah? I feel the exact same way about you,” she said as you both began to lean in.

“Good, we balance each other out,” you flirted back right before you two closed the gap between you, your lips meeting halfway. Her lips were warm and soft, and you could taste her nightly cigarette on them. You tilted your head and parted your own lips to deepen the kiss and give her tongue access, but the forgotten tea kettle on the stove whistled, interrupting the kiss before it could escalate. 

You and Sam broke apart, slightly panting, as you both wore shit eating grins. “I should go set up the tea,” you said with warm cheeks.

Sam nodded with an, “Okay,” but her eyes never pulled from your back as you prepared the tea. She subtly walked up behind you, putting her hands on your hips and rested her chin on your shoulder.

“Sammy,” you lightly laughed in an excited surprise. 

“Bring the tea to my room and don’t take too long. I wanna finish where we left off,” she whispered into your ear in a husky voice. You could feel her breath against your neck due to this, your heart racing in response. 

Sam sauntered off to her room, but not without leaving a kiss just below the corner of your jaw. If you noticed her taking a subtle bite then you didn’t comment. The kiss sent shivers down your spine, and after snapping out of the daze Sam put you in, you quickly went back to the tea. You never made tea so briskly before tonight. 

Later, Sam kept on her promise. She may have left a few hickeys for the world to see but you could never prove she did it with possessive intent.

That was just for her to know.

-----------

A/N: and if I said y/n was wearing an 'In Utero' shirt?? (ofc, imagine whatever shirt you'd like)

[merbear25]

Zoro, Ace, and Shanks failing the pull-out game?😭 like they accidentally cum inside of you

Hello, hello! Oh boy, oh boy this is quite the scenario to consider. Thank you for giving me something to think about late at night. I hope you like what I’ve written for you. 💜💜

p.s. This is the first thing I’ve ever written for Shanks, so I hope it suits him.

CW: NSFW, MDNI, creampie, fem!reader in mind but nothing specific mentioned, headcanons/scenarios

When their pull-out game is weak (Zoro, Ace, Shanks)

Zoro

He was always careful and on point when it came to his timing, but the way you were writhing under him on top of those whimpers and moans brought his orgasm on more quickly than anticipated.

There was an attempt at focusing his thoughts on something else, though it was all in vain when he gazed down at your arched form and was graced with the pleasure soaked mewls dripping from your quivering lips. A sharp inhale coupled with a “Fuck!” snapped you out of the moment. With his face burning red, he pulled out and averted his gaze.

You took a moment to come to before consoling him, “Don’t worry about it. These things happen.” You placed soft pecks down his sun kissed chest while reveling in the way his chest rose and fell.

With each kiss, you further fanned the flames deep within him which was made apparent by the slight twitching of his cock. “You know, you never got to finish properly,” his voice was already heavy with newfound desire.

Smirking at him, you revealed the still trickling cum between your legs. “Are you going to double stuff me this time?” You teased before he roughly pulled you closer for round two.

Ace

One of the things both of you enjoyed most about your relationship was the spontaneity: finding little corners and rooms to bang a quicky out or having a disagreement turn into a lengthy, steamy session.

Typically you used condoms to avoid any accidental slip-ups, but this time around you were unprepared and desperate for each other. Hoisting you up on the counter in the bathroom, his kiss was searing. As he roughly tugged your underwear off and bit gently at your lower lip, you were begging for him to put it in.

After just the first few thrusts, you were unraveling on him—a complete and utter mess from the sensation of him pounding into you.

He tended to be pretty good at pacing himself, ensuring you had got your fill well before he followed suit, but the way your body tightened around him was testing his self-restraint. When he started pulling back to collect himself, your legs wrapped around him, which forced him deeper.

Your desperation for him, your nails raking down his back, and the way you squeezed him for everything he was worth: it was all too much for him. With one last buck of his hips and a guttural moan, he spilled every last drop of cum inside you. He murmured an apology against your neck before pulling out to witness the mess you two made.

Shanks

You both enjoyed taking your time when it came to the bedroom. Having that sensual build-up leading to the main event made everything feel that much more intense. With light touches and deep kisses, it was easy to get carried away every now and then.

He wasn’t really the best at timing—typically waiting until the last second to pull out. However, it didn’t bother you all that much because he still managed to shoot his load outside of you, preferably on your stomach or ass.

The real challenge for him was when you were on top. The hypnotic way you bounced up and down on him, the sensual groping of your own body, and those moans that trailed past your sweet lips: they were a recipe for disaster.

You really knew how to put on a show for him, putting every fiber of his being to the test with your tempting display. With his breaths becoming labored and his grip on your hip tightening, you could tell he was close, but you were still waiting for him to tell you when it was too much.

As you picked up the pace to focus on your own release, as well, you heard him groan, “Oh, shit!” before tossing you to the side. He gripped his cock to finish off his climax but had already leaked a fair amount into you first. He apologized and you both realized you may be better off sticking to condoms.

[mxnbi]

Sweet as honey

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ────────────────────

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Boyfriend!Kaldo Gehenna X Reader

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ SYNOPSIS He couldn’t resist that sweet taste of honey on your lips. He had to have you then and there, even if it means doing it on school grounds

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ CW: public sex, sex on school grounds, a little bit of food play, sex in uniform, fem! reader

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ tags: mashle mashle magic and muscle kaldo kaldo gehenna kaldo x reader fem reader mashle smut mashle fanfic mashle oneshot kaldo one shor kaldo smut kaldo fanfic divine visionary anime manga honey food play school sex

21+ nsfw smut, minors DNI

Yet another day at Easton Magic Academy. Juggling potion classes, flying classes and the upcoming Divine Visionary selection exam has you pulling at your hair every day and night.

Wanting to destress a bit, you decided to go on a stroll around the school campus. Roaming up and down the hallways while you munch on some honey dipped pretzels.

You did a double take when you noticed your boyfriend, Kaldo, exiting an office right up ahead.

“Kaldo! What brings you here? You rarely come back.”

Your joyful voice echoed slightly through out the empty hall as you ran toward the tall man. Your body could barely contain the excitement from the rare sight of your boyfriend on campus.

Kaldo’s slender arms wrapped around your waist in a warm and welcoming hug after watching you practically float in his direction. He pressed a tender kiss against your forehead as he rocked you side to side lovingly.

“Hey honey. The school summoned us Divine Visionaries to investigate a student with no magic here. He’s quite the case as far as I’ve-“

He paused mid sentence, pulling away from you and sniffing the air like theres a gas leak in the building.

You looked up at him in confusion, all while still snacking on your pretzels. The crunch that came with each bite caught Kaldo’s attention.

He glanced at the snacks in your hand and a saucer of honey floating right next to you. He leaned down to eye level with you and pressed his lips against yours, giving them a quick lick.

You stood rooted to the ground, stunned by his unexpected display of affection, dropping a half eaten pretzel.

“I’ve been spending the past weekend looking for foods and dishes that go well with honey, but I never knew how good it could taste on your lips.”

Kaldo pulled back, looking into your eyes with lust filled in his. He quickly grabbed your hand before pulling you into the office that he came out of, not forgetting to lock the door right behind him.

Before you could even utter a word, he has his lips on yours, a hand on your waist and the other on the back of your head to guide you into the kiss gently.

He licked your lips, tasting the sweet nectar left over from your snacks that were now residing somewhere on the floor.

You could do nothing except melt into his arms, your feet floating off the floor and wrapping around his waist while he lifts you off the ground with minimal effort.

You were always aware of his love for honey, but him being away so often made you forget how much you could turn him on, even just by having a light snack.

Kaldo carries you over to a desk, pushing off random documents to floor and settling himself between your legs before undoing his sword to set aside.

“W-wait wait, who’s office is this? This could get you in so much trouble!”

You whispered in a panic, afraid that you’ll be the reason why he loses his prestigious rank that he worked so hard for. He laughs softly at your alarmed state, secretly creeping a hand up your thighs from under your skirt.

Kaldo undid his jacket and pants with one hand while the other rests on your hips. He looked at you assuringly, flashing you that sweet but oh so cunning smile that you know him for.

“Who could possibly get me in trouble?”

That was the last thing said before he pushed your skirt up and slid into you.

You screamed at sudden insertion, unprepared for the stretch that he gave you. Your hand flew up to cover your mouth as you looked at Kaldo wide eyed, only to be returned with that same cunning smile.

He steadies himself again, a hand on your hip as he slowly thrusted into your wet pussy.

Your legs tightened around him from the pleasure, trying to keep the volume down as much as possible, but boy does Kaldo make that hard for you to do.

He locked lips with you once again, his tongue searching around your mouth and lips for any remnants of that sweet syrup, all while fucking into your cervix.

“Mmngh fuck…slow d-down I can’t…keep quiet..”

You begged, hoping that he would understand the severity of getting caught while committing such an indecent act on school grounds. But it’s clear that it was not his priority in the moment.

Kaldo leaned down to nibble at your ear, and down to your neck. Leaving a small trail of love bites that made his throbbing cock twitch inside of you.

“They can deal with me then, think only about us now.”

Using his teeth, he swiftly removed his left glove and dipped two fingers in whatever honey remained in that little saucer.

“Open up honey.”

That was all he needed to say. You complied without a second thought and opened your mouth while sticking out your tongue.

He brought his fingers up for you to suck, moaning as he watched your cheeks hollow around his two digits with a tiny amount of honey dripping onto your chin and making its way down to your chest.

“Well we can’t have your precious uniform get dirty can we? Honey is not easy to clean.”

Kaldo then made quick work of your button and tie, freeing your perky tits and watching them bounce up and down with each thrust.

He bit his lip, holding back a whimper as he watched the honey slowly make its way down to your chest and in between your cleavage. He could almost come inside of you then and there.

He fucked you harder and faster, pounding into your pussy and watching your face contort in pure pleasure.

Kaldo bent down to kiss and lick up the sticky honey off of your chest while his right hand plays with your tit.

You threw your head back in pleasure, legs dangling in the air, shaking as he plunged his cock deeper and deeper into you.

“Mmm.. two of my favourite things in one…how could I ask f-for more.”

He whimpered quietly, looking down at where you two are connected as he pumped his dick in and out of you.

You felt your tummy tighten, but before you could say anything about you cumming, Kaldo abruptly pulled out of you. Giving you a quick peck on the lips before forecfully flipping you over with your stomach and chest pressed up on the table.

His hand caress your butt while he further pushes your skirt up and aligns his blunt tip at the entrance of your hole.

“Let’s make this quick okay honey, someone’s going to be using this room soon.”

You looked back at him, watching him sigh out in pleasure as he pushed into you again like he could never get sick of this sensation.

Both palms on your waist now, finger nails leaving marks in your skin, he drives his cock into you faster than before, almost forcing another moan out of you.

You grabbed the edge of the table, hoping to steady yourself from his intense pounding, but to no avail as Kaldo got the whole table shaking back and forth with his thrusts now.

“Mmmngh I-I need to come back..more often now..”

Kaldo mustered out a sentence between moans and whimpers, thrusts now becoming messier and messier.

You clawed at the table. The way his cock tip grazes your G spot drives you absolutely insane. You missed having fuck sessions like this whenever Kaldo’s away. He’s just something your fingers can’t replace.

That familar knot in your belly was starting to form again, and that’s when your legs start to lose it’s strength.

“A-ahh fuck..Kaldo I’m-ngh.. c-cumming.”

And with that, Kaldo went faster, harder, and deeper. Leaning over your body while supporting himself with a hand on the table to get a better angle. One that would snip that knot and made you cum all over his cock.

You moaned into your elbow, facing down into the table in an attempt to muffle any lewd noises that could be possibly be heard.

“Ahh~ K-kaldo…oh my god.”

Hearing you moan his name was like sweet honey to him. One last thrust and he was filling you up to the brim with his warm cum.

Sweat dripped down his temples and neck as Kaldo tried to regain his composure, slowly pulling out of you to watch his thick cum slowly ooze out of your cunt and down to the floor, just like glistening honey.

He pulled you up gently by your shoulders, bringing you into a warm embrace as he buries his nose into the nook of your neck.

“Would you mind stopping by my room? There’s a lot more I’ve been wanting to show you.”

Oh boy were you going to be busy that night.

A/N: RAHHHH FINALLY SOME MASHLE CONTENT im honestly so in love w the show and the characters. Im so happy to finally write smth about my boy kaldo but i hope to expand my territory to include the other men too hehehehe

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Sum Of All 12

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, 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.

Character: mob!Steve Rogers

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you are given an unexpected assignment.

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 ❤️

“Here, hopefully we’re not here too long,” Rogers puts down the shopping bags on the chaise. You watch his back, his shoulder blades defined through the fabric of his shirt. 

“You know, you didn’t have to buy all that...” you sit up. The food and water helped but you’re still a bit cloudy. 

“Never knew a woman to complain about getting new clothes,” he sniffs and turns to face you. “We could’ve stopped to grab some of yours if you hadn’t clocked out--” 

“Yeah well--” you stop yourself and shake your head. 

“Well... what?” He squints. 

“Nothing,” your heart jumps. “Nothing at all. It’s just... new places. Adjusting.” 

“No, say it,” he challenges, crossing his arms. He tilts his head down so he looks even more sinister. You gulp. 

“Really, it’s--” 

“Go on,” he smirks. 

He’s baiting you and you don’t want to bite. Plus, you’re unprepared for his sudden change. Just a moment ago, it was all fine. He was being nice-ish. 

“Nothing, I didn’t say anything.” 

“No, you won’t say anything,” he corrects as he comes to the end of the bed. You turn your legs over the side and stare at the wall. “I want you to be honest, sweetheart, because I don’t like liars.” 

“I’m not lying...” you stand, “look, Thor said I could have a room of my own. Maybe I should go--” 

“You’re not. Like I said last night, one room is more secure.” 

“Yeah, but--” 

“Yeah but.” He interjects tersely. “My rules.” 

You stop and face him. You frown. 

“I see it written across your face,” he comes closer and your head wobbles slightly. Oh boy, you don’t like how he resembles a lion strutting towards an antelope. “Say what you were going to say.” 

“Nothing, it doesn’t matter--” 

“Matters to me.” 

“Why are you being like this? I didn’t do anything.” 

“Say it,” he demands. 

“Ugh, fine. If you hadn’t just swooped in and turned everything upside down, I probably wouldn’t have fainted, you know? But you just keep... throwing things at me. I had a job, a new apartment, I had everything I ever wanted--” 

“You don’t know what you want,” he scoffs. “That stuff’s boring. Sitting in an office, taking orders from some scum like Pete? You’re just trading one stuffed suit for another--” 

“But how would you know?” You challenge then slap your hand over your mouth. Shut up! 

He stands right before you. He uncrosses his arms and grips his hips instead. His cheek ticks. 

“You arguing with me?” 

You shake your head. 

“You want me to take you back? Hm, princess? You giving me orders?” 

You keep shaking your head. It makes you dizzy. You reach back with your other hand to cling to the night table. 

“Sound like you are,” he gets even closer. 

Your lashes flutter and your head bobs. No! You’re not going to-- 

You feel yourself tipping to the side and he’s quick to catch you, almost like it’s exactly what he wanted. He puts you back on your feet and holds you up as you fight through the haze. You put your hands down and puff out. 

“I’m fine. Okay?” You say. “Tired. I wasn’t prepared for all this and now you’re... you’re bullying me.” 

“Bullying?” He chuckles as his thumbs rub your arms. 

You look back and forth and shrug away from his grasp. You take and deep breath and sidle away from him. He shifts but doesn’t follow. 

“Intimidating me. But I guess that’s your job.” 

“Is it?” He challenges. 

“I don’t know. I assume.” 

“What do you think I do?” He asks. 

“Whatever,” you pace around the room, “you do what you do. What you did to that man on the street.” You stop and latch onto to the closest piece of furniture, “oh boy, that was...” 

“So, aren’t you happy I’m on your side,” he snickers. 

You look at him and furrow your brow. He’s mocking you. You shrug. 

“You know, I’m sure there’s people like you who can count.” You insist, “so why are you bothering me?” 

“Sure, there’s people like me,” he emphasizes the words, “who can keep a ledger but those people also tend to fudge the numbers.” 

“Right,” you fold your arms. 

“People like me,” he repeats again, “what does that mean? Hm? What am I?” 

Your frustration mounts. It’s like an interrogation. He wants you to say something wrong after you’ve been so careful. Your heart is racing and your eyelids are starting. No! 

You pull your arms apart and point up, making yourself steady. 

“You’re... just you, I guess.” 

“I’m a criminal? A monster? A bully?” He taunts. 

You pout. It doesn’t matter what you say. 

“I’m a made man. That’s a lot more than most boys can say these days. You would know better than me, I’m sure.” 

“I don’t know,” you shrug again. 

“What don’t you know?” 

“Stop, please. You’re confusing me,” you plead. “What did I say? What did I do?” 

“You said something, sweetheart.” He comes at you again. “And you’re lucky you didn’t do it in front of anyone else.” 

“Wait, woah! You made me. I wasn’t going to. You said--” 

“You started,” he rebukes as you back away from him. “Oh, now you’re running from me? And why’s that? What’ve I done to make you so afraid? I catch you when you fall apart, keep you just fine enough. Paid you good too. So why so jumpy?” 

“I don’t know what you want!” You say and your legs hit something behind you. You let out a yelp as you fell, somersaulting backwards over the chaise as the shopping bag heap down around you. You roll over and look up at the laughter that peels through the air. 

“Jeez, sweetheart, you’re gonna hurt yourself when you’re so worried about me hurtin’ you,” he stands on the other side. “That’s what I don’t like. I haven’t done anything to warrant that thought.” 

You stare up at him helplessly. He bends over the chaise, spreading his large hand on the cushion as he offers his other. You take it and he hauls you to your feet. 

“Just remember who’s the one keeps picking you back up,” he says. 

[camaelczarka]

Having read Interview With the Vampire years ago (and also having seen the 1994 movie like 100 times), I knew what to expect when the show started leading up to Lestat’s ‘death’. But, I was sort of unprepared for how intense the show made this event. Like, I was anxious watching 1x07. And then when that scene finally happened, I was on the edge of my seat. Totally fucking upset (in a good way) by how they were showing this well known canon event. They gave it such a huge amount of gravity and while they definitely made Lestat “deserve” it more, it was still heartbreaking. Claudia dipping her pen in his blood and then suddenly realizing what they were doing with her collection of last words… holy shit. Such an intense moment.

But upon my recent rewatch, it occurred to me that Louis is still SO not over it even in 2022. And yeah that was kind of obvious from how he reacted to Daniel poking holes in his story and how he loses it. But, even with everything they went over in both seasons, it’s really obvious to me that Louis cannot think about the moment that Lestat died. He can’t recall hearing his last words. We do not hear Lestat say “Mets-moi dans mon cercueil, Louis, Louis” because Louis WILL NOT think about it. He won’t recall it. And it also occurs to me that Louis was probably holding him when he said that and that they were probably also holding hands.

(It’s kinda hard to see but Lestat’s arm is bent here which I hadn’t noticed before)

There are other moments between them that we famously don’t hear, but this one feels a lot more like a mental block than a desire to keep some things between them private. And how did that impact the early days of his traveling with Claudia to Europe? Daniel says that she wrote that she “hated” Louis for a while, but he can’t really face that either and he skips forward in 2x01.

I could be wrong but I kind of doubt we will revisit this moment exactly- then again Lestat could talk about it at some point. But it’s interesting to note that after 2x08, Louis is definitely processing his grief over Claudia and Paul, but maybe hasn’t really processed his guilt and grief about Lestat at all, despite the fact that he knew Lestat was alive for at least the last 80ish years. And dreamstat definitely showed the manifestation of his guilt on occasion, but that was long in the past by the time of the second interview, and he still can’t talk about it.

I’m super curious how he’s feeling about this after the reunion and if it’s something that still bothers him or if he’s made peace with it at any point

[the-ancient-dragons]

EXTRA OVERCOMPLICATED ICEWIIIIINGS

You know how it goes, Joy Ang is cool and I'm not yadda yadda move on.

Details and explanation below!

Otherwise, next week is the last Pyrrhian tribe: NightWings!!!! See you then!

More overcomplicated dragons.

If the RainWings are the design that destroys Joy's work the least, this one takes the original IceWings and tosses them out the window. Going into this design I knew it would be hard, but boy was I unprepared to get art block for 2 months because of it.

I eventually found my inspiration in the girdled, spiny, and horned lizards, They. Are. So. Freaking cool. If you think a crocodile skink is awesome, look up girdled lizards. Not as fancy with the eyeliner but they are SPIKY!

I fell in love in particular with the giant girdled lizard. I knew I wanted the scales of the IceWing to look rough and like they were made of actual ice or diamonds - or covered in frozen sleet and snow - and this lizard was basically perfect inspo for that. Also, blue spiny lizards. They are basically real life IceWings, full stop.

But even though I had perfect references to draw from, I still struggled with the head shape. I wanted them to feel like a reptilian polar bear, which is why I slightly blunted it, but I think I should have gone with a more angular shape instead. I can always change it later when I do their full-body.

I did have a very fun time with the horns, however. I wanted them to be a mix of narwhal teeth and icicles (yes, narwhal 'horns' are actually overgrown teeth. One tooth, usually, but sometimes they can have two!!). Before I get distracted I should explain how they grow: the scales at the base of the horn are constantly growing and essentially create the horn. That's what gives them their narwhal-like spirals.

I chose a similar approach to the neck spikes (untangling that mess was fun, let me tell you. Grids are very useful when doing many scales/spikes). At the base of each one you'll notice a scale forming it. On the back, I wanted to give a good side profile of the spikes. Technically, they are ever-growing, and need to be trimmed or sharpened constantly.

Now, as I was drawing them, I asked myself: why do IceWings need a mane of spikes?

A stupid question, you might wonder, but to me it's very important. Animals look the way they do for survival. So, while it's important visually for the ice theme, how could they be explained scientifically?

And then, when thinking of polar bears, I got my answer.

How the hell does a giant sparkly dragon hunt in the north? Seals would probably be part of their diet, but it's hard to sneak up on them if you're a ten ton reptilian flying creature, so I imagine they would tackle the problem like a polar bear would by waiting by a breathing hole and pouncing at the right moment. They already look like a frozen snowbank, so that part is easy.

But any hungry polar bear would be doing the same thing, and like a giant dragon, they would be waiting downwind of the breathing hole too. They wouldn't pose a threat to adult dragons or dragonets larger than them, but in real life polar bears are dangerous hunters and prey on humans. Why wouldn't it prey on a dragonet it thinks it can take on? Things in the WOF universe seem to be extra big (or scavengers/humans are tiny) so I think it would be a feasible for a desperate bear to hunt a dragon. They cannibalize, anyway, so going after another apex predator isn't out of the question. In this case, the horns and neck spikes would be a dragonet's saving grace, discouraging attacks from behind and especially on their necks. A bear's teeth could never get through their scales, but they could still crush their airways and choke them, and the spikes would keep them away from their necks and protect them from that fate. As they grow up, the neck spikes' length and strength could be used to determine a dragon's health and help them select good partners.

Finally, continuing with the bear theme: for the scales, I took inspiration from polar bear fur (which is actually hollow) to help design how IceWings preserve their body heat. In polar bears, its used to make them look white by reflecting the light of the sun, but in IceWings it could keep the cold out. Air pockets would create a barrier between them and the outside elements, and whatever gets in would meet their thick layer of fat that does the real warming. Yes, IceWings would be squishy, but you'd probably poke your eye out or stick permanently to their side a la tongue to cold metal pole.

Don't hug IceWings; they're very cold.

[springcourtrose]

Please, stop... | Part 4

Pairing: Helion x reader (x Nessian)

Warnings: mentions of death - MINORS DNI

Prompt: you’re Nesta and Cassian’s mate and yet you are so different from them. From day 1 you tried to be a good mate and do as they wanted and liked but they like it rough and you just don’t. Not only is it not enjoyable for you, it is actually painful. And not just in bed. You always excused their behavior as being overprotective but recently you started calling it something else: controlling. And one night, all changed as you uttered the words you had tried so hard never to say, but always thinking if you ever did they would listen. But they didn’t. And that night, everything broke.

(A/N: Thank you for all of your support, this has been fun! I hope you enjoy this last part 🩷 PS: English isn't my first language)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Nesta and Cassian were lying in bed, facing each other, staring at the empty space in the middle, where you used to lie in between them. They did so every day, twice a day in fact. Once in the evening, when your absence kept them awake, and once in the morning, when it made them want to die.

They had no time for it this morning, however, as Rhys had called a meeting, and they were already late for it.

It had been a little over a year since you left and they had never recovered from your loss. And they never will. They didn't want to.

Their friends had gotten used to their empty eyes, to the bags under them, to the paleness of their skin. They had even started to forget the sound of their laughs or the way they smiled. It was an unspoken rule not to mention you in front of them, ever. And had they been paying attention, had they cared at all about anything anymore, they would have noticed their friends' nervous behavior. They had gotten used to the pity in their eyes, but this morning, there was something more than just pity. They sat on the couch across from where Rhys and Feyre waited for them. Amren in the armchair on their right, Mor on their left, Azriel standing behind her, his back against the wall. They had no idea what the meeting was about, they didn't care. They were utterly unprepared for what they were about to hear.

"We have news," Rhys started carefully." From the Day Court."

Nesta stilled. Cassian looked up at his brother, a hint of light in his hollow eyes.

"Y/N?" he asked, your name only a murmur on his lips, as if he could hurt you again just by speaking your name.

"Yes."

"Is she alright?"

"She's fine. She... Helion sent word to every court. They have married, and he's made her his High Lady."

Neither of them felt the watchful eyes of their friends as their High Lord told them the news. They had no idea what to expect from them. When it came to you, their behavior had been surprising ever since you had gone. They had given up so quickly. They had let you go. They hadn't even tried to go and see you in the Day Court. As if every day since your departure was self-inflicted torture, penance, for what they had done to you. They were miserable, and they knew they deserved it and worse.

"That's good," Cassian nodded, a small smile forming on his face, quickly fading away. "Helion makes her happy. I'm glad."

Nesta said nothing. She didn't react. She just stared at nothing, like she so often did now. Cassian placed a hand on hers and squeezed gently.

"That's good," he repeated.

And that had been that.

Your laugh echoed through the courtyard, like it so often did now. The servants and caretakers smiled as they watched you and their High Lord embrace in the sun.

You were brushing Thea's mane when your husband had come up behind you and pressed a kiss in your neck. His hands ran down your body as he enveloped you in his arms.

"Good morning, my love."

"'morning, sunshine," you smiled, leaning into him.

Thea had been his wedding gift to you. The most perfect pegasus, 'a steed fit for a High Lady', he had written on the note. Unfortunately, you had said, you would not be able to ride her for a few months. That had been your gift to him, and you swore the smile on his face, as you brought his hands to your swollen belly, had shone brighter than the sun.

You were only three months along, but already so big. You had complained about it to him, feeling somewhat insecure, but he had assured you you had never looked better. And the healer the next day had easily explained it. You were carrying twins. A boy and a girl. Both healthy. You were both overjoyed.

The past year had been absolute bliss for the both of you. There was really nothing that could ruin it.

It was the middle of the afternoon when it happened. Two months after your wedding. You were sitting comfortably on your canopy in your chambers, reading a book, when death came upon you.

The scream that came out of you was the scariest thing Helion had ever heard. He rushed into the room to find you shaking on the floor, bent over your knees. He knelt in front of you and seized your face in his hands, checking you for any injury. He found none.

"What is it?"

The look in his eyes was wild with worry but yours, yours were grieving.

"Cassian," you breathed. "He's dying."

Cassian's screams echoed in the Court of Nightmares as Madja and two other healers worked on him. They had managed to control the bleeding of his opened wounds but his wings... it was his wings that made his screams so horrible.

It took two more healers to save him from death's grip, but his wings... only time would tell if he would ever be able to fly again.

He slept for hours, only waking for a few minutes at a time. Nesta never left his side. She had already lost one mate, she wouldn't lose another. She had threatened and barked at the healers to save him. It was the most spirit she had shown in the past year and a half.

He was awake, however, when Rhys came in.

"How are you feeling, brother?"

"Half-dead," he coughed, "half-alive."

"There's someone who wants to see you, if you're feeling up to it?"

The Illyrian warrior frowned.

"Who?" Nesta demanded.

And if the bastards who had ambushed him that morning, about 20 men against one, hadn't managed to kill him, the sight of you standing behind his brother could have finished him right then and there.

"Y/N," Nesta breathed as she slowly stood from the bed.

Your eyes quickly moved from him to her then back to him again. He stared right back at you, at a lack for words. He wondered if he were imagining it, if he were hallucinating you. He wondered if you had come to spit on his dead corpse.

Helion stood behind you and remained close as you approached and came to a stop at the end of his bed.

"Hey," you said to him. You spoke to him.

"Hey," he murmured back, tears in his eyes, a knot in his throat.

"I felt you die."

He swallowed hard. "I couldn't die without seeing your pretty face again." He tried to smile. But ended up wincing. You didn't smile back. Tears fell on his cheeks. "You're pregnant."

You took a deep breath as you nodded, your hands coming to rest on your belly. You eyed Nesta quickly. Her cheeks were wet. You understood she never thought she would ever see you again.

"I'm glad you're not dead," you said, and this time, his smile was true. And this time, you smiled back.

You moved to sit on the edge of the bed, near where Nesta stood. You nodded at her. She nodded back.

You slowly brought a hand to Cassian's face and cupped his cheek, wiping tears away with your thumb.

"Will your wings heal?"

"'don't know."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't," he shook his head. "Don't ever apologize to me, to us," he said as he took your tiny hand in his large one. "I'm so sorry, Y/N," he sobbed. "I'm so fucking sorry."

You nodded, then looked up at Nesta. You didn't expect her to apologize. She didn't apologize to anyone, and you doubted she would to you.

"We fucked it up," he spat, angry and disgusted at himself. "We didn't take care of you like we should have. We didn't treat you right. We hurt you, and I'll never forgive myself for that. Ever."

You nodded again. It's not that you couldn't find the words. It's that you had absolutely nothing to say to that. To them.

"I will always love you," he continued. "As long as I'm alive."

"I know," you finally said. You had felt it that day you had tried to destroy the bond. That was that tiny thread left between you. Their love, however painful it had been to you.

He smiled again. A sad smile that should have broken your heart.

"Are you happy?"

"Yes."

"Then I will die a happy male."

"You won't die at all, even if I have to bring all the healers of the Day Court to save your life."

He chuckled, then winced.

"Spoken like a true High Lady," he said with a proud smile. "So," he cleared his throat. "Boy or girl?"

You smiled slightly. "Both. Twins."

"I'm so happy for you," he beamed at you. You felt Nesta boil from where she stood. You knew she was trying her very best not to say a thing. Not to ruin this moment. For Cassian. And for you.

"Be happy, Cassian," you told him, running your thumb once more on his cheek before letting go of his face.

You gestured for Helion to help you back up and he was with you in an instant. You looked up at Nesta as you stood on your feet. She wouldn't say a thing, but you saw enough in her eyes. She had lost any hope of happiness the day she lost you. And she would live with that for the rest of her life.

You smiled at your husband as he linked his arm to yours and walked you to the door. You were halfway across the room when a voice stopped you.

"Tell me what I have to do to have your forgiveness."

You turned to meet Nesta's eyes. Determined. Desperate.

You had thought about it. You had thought about it many times. What it would take for you to forgive them. You never could find the answer. And as you stood there with her you understood there was nothing either of them could do. Nothing they could say. But there was one thing you were dying to know.

"Why didn't you stop when I asked?"

Cassian's face turned grave. Nesta didn't even flinch.

"I didn't want to," she answered honestly. "I took what I wanted from you and I didn't stop to think how that made you feel. I didn't even consider the possibility that I was... that we were hurting you. Because you were my... our mate, and you were mine..." she paused, a knot forming in her throat as tears formed in her eyes. "And I was so wrong."

"So you didn't know you were hurting me?"

She shook her head. Cassian said nothing, he only lowered his eyes in shame.

"Would you have stopped, would you have changed, had you known?"

"Yes." It was Cassian who answered. "But we should have known."

"We should have known," Nesta nodded.

You paused to look at them both for a moment. Then, you squeezed Helion's hand before you turned your back to your mates once more.

"Yes. You should have."

The end!

I hope you liked it! I am curious though, do you think reader should have / could have forgiven them? Were you hoping for another ending? 🤔 Let me know!

Thank you all for the likes and reblogs, I really enjoyed writing this, I haven't written in so long! 🩷

Tags: @chessebookgirl @impossibelle @esposadomd @saltedcoffeescotch @sleepylunarwolf @63angel @azzydaddy @ghostbutaliveidk @queerqueenlynn @randomperson1234sblog @nyx-the-alien

[paranoiastudio]

My dear friend

pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x f!reader

warnings: +18 smut, virginity loss, p in v, dirty talk, masturbation, oral (m for f), creampie

word count: 2,5k

English is not my first language, sorry about mistakes

All mothers say that choosing a profitable match is extremely important for any lady. Your mother always said that strong love is built on friendship and mutual respect between people. You believed that marriage is not as important as many people think and always called yourself different, unable to become a victim of this system.

- You’re so beautiful... - The words that escaped Benedict’s lips make you tremble in his arms. - I am the happiest men in the world, my love.

This evening you agreed to his proposal to marry him. When you first met Benedict Bridgerton at the ball last season, you never thought it would go this far. At first you saw him as a pleasant companion and a strong figure who could protect you from annoying gentlemen.

Once upon a time, the mere thought of a man touching you caused an unpleasant shiver. And now you are lewdly clinging to Benedict and reaching out for another kiss, wanting to get as much as possible.

- Little greedy thing... - Benedict bites your earlobe. - You have no idea how many things I would like to do with you, but we won’t do that today.

- Why? - You’re breathing heavily, your chest is heaving, the skin that’s not covered by the fabric of your dress is a little red. - I want you, Benedict.

A muffled moan reaches your ears and you feel the weight of his desire through the fabric of your clothes, Bridgerton presses against your thigh, shamefully rubbing himself against you.

You saw ancient statues and paintings, looked at the drawings in your father’s medical atlases, but you still felt unprepared for what nature gave you.

- You are teasing me. - Benedict’s lips find yours again and you shamelessly allow him to penetrate your mouth with his tongue, his beautiful hand wrapping around the back of your head and pulling you closer. - How about an engagement gift, my dear?

You just nod vigorously, unable to say a word. Benedict smiles, accepting your answer, and, taking your hand, leads you a little deeper into the garden labyrinth, where no one will see you.

Finding a beautiful carved shop in a dark corner, Bridgerton plops down in the middle and pulls you towards him. You, holding your dress, sit on top of him, your pussy squeezing at the feeling of his strong and warm thigh, which twitched slightly and sent sparks to the very center of your arousal.

- Show me how much you want... I must to see... - You look into the man’s eyes and believe that he needs it. He appears ill: he is breathing deeply, his hair is tousled, and his vest is unbuttoned. He looks at you with dark and shiny eyes, moving his worried gaze over your face.

- What do I need to do? - You knew that Benedict is clearly much more experienced in this matter. Your words sent a jolt of excitement through Benedict’s already hard cock, you looked so innocent and slutty at the same time.

He helps you lift up all your skirts and get rid of your underwear, with a slow movement he sits you back on his thigh and you moan, feeling the thick fabric of your pants with your naked pussy.

-You can ride me, honey. Fuck yourself on my leg. - Your body seems to know what needs to be done and you move your hips immediately, clinging your sore clitoris to your trousers. - Oh, my girl...

Benedict wraps one arm around your waist, the other holding your hip and helping you catch the pace. Your thighs quickly begin to burn from the unusual position, but you cannot stop, looking into the face of your beloved man, who caught your every breath and moan.

- Nice job on hips, miss. - Benedict smiles and lifts the dress higher, exposing your most intimate parts to the cold evening air.

- God, I... - You feel a familiar feeling inside, you’ve already experienced this before, the same feeling appeared when you touched yourself at night.

Knowing how good it will be, you speed up and moan from the tension throughout your body. Benedict watches where your bodies touch, your juices staining his pants, but he doesn't care; you moan and squirm on him in the dark corner of the garden, but he doesn’t care; he's ready to cum in his pants at any moment, but he doesn't care.

- The Lord will forgive me for this weakness, right, my girl? - Benedict reaches out and touches your clit terribly slowly, watching your beautiful eyes widen. - You are the most beautiful sin that one can succumb to.

The feeling of someone else's hand is completely different: Benedict touches you lightly and carefully, studying you. His fingers are much thicker and longer than yours, and they flutter as quickly as when he draws. The thought that you are like his creation only excites you even more.

- God, what are you doing to me? - Benedict accelerates the movement on the clitoris and you scream, the echo of your scream will forever remain in this garden labyrinth.

What are you doing with it? You're now chasing your orgasm, rubbing yourself on the thigh of someone who isn't even your husband yet, nearly naked and so loud you'd think you wanted to get caught. And Benedict asks what are you doing with him? What is this man doing to you?!

- Please... - You don’t know what you’re asking for, only squeezing Benedict’s shoulders tighter.

-Are you close? - He leans forward and wraps both arms around you. -Cum for me, darling. Cum on my leg, show me.

You whimper and suddenly freeze for a second, only to shudder in the next moment and several more times run your womb dripping with lubricant over the expensive fabric, the stains on which cannot be unnoticed.

- It was... - You open your eyes and still see flashes before your eyes. This is much stronger than the times when you touched yourself; Next to Benedict you are like an exposed nerve, sensitive to everything in the world.

- Magical. - The man kisses you on the corner of your lips, takes you off his leg and straightens your outfit. -You did so well, my girl.

You giggle, hiding your red face from embarrassment and excitement on Benedict’s shoulder. He holds you in his arms and gently strokes you until you stop shaking.

- When I did it myself, the feelings were different... - You look at the stars, playing with your gloved fingers with Benedict’s fingers.

- Did you do it yourself? - You hear the smile in his voice. - Mrs. Bridgerton, you surprise me. On our wedding night you will show me everything, understand?

- You can’t imagine how amazing you look now. - You hear Benedict as if from under water, you’re so carried away.

Having promised you that you would show him how you played with yourself, he wasn’t joking at all. As soon as your husband undressed you in what is now your shared bedroom, he remembered his words and now you are lying naked on the large bed and caressing your slippery folds, allowing Benedict to see absolutely everything.

- Fuck! - You squeeze your bare chest. The orgasm is so close and you intend to catch it, after such an exhausting and long day, you wanted to get a release as quickly as possible.

- My dear wife is angry... - Benedict licks his lips and crawls closer to you. - This is unacceptable.

Grabbing your hips, Benedict slams into your wet pussy and hums lowly, caressing you so intensely that you don’t even have time to warn him and cum on the man’s face so hard that your toes involuntarily curl.

- I didn’t even have time to really touch you. - The man chuckles, collecting droplets of your excitement on his finger. - You are so sensitive, my dear, tempting you will be a real pleasure.

- No, please, I want it so much... - You almost choke on your saliva, afraid that Benedict will really decide to mock you.

- Don't worry so much. - He ends up on top and deftly spreads your legs with his knee. When did he take off his clothes? You wanted to do it yourself, but it seems like you really lost track of time. - Today I will make you mine, we will have time to play another day, right?

You hug your husband with all your limbs and raise your hips, not at all afraid of what is about to happen. The maids and married friends shared some details, but the overall image was still a little blurry. You knew only one thing for sure: you have never wanted to do this with anyone more than now with Benedict Bridgerton, your new husband.

- You may be hurt, my love. I don’t... - Benedict leans on his elbows. - I won’t be able to take this pain for myself, but I promise that this won’t happen again.

You nod as if you completely understood what he was talking about, and Benedict, trying not to frighten you with the expectation, thrusts his hips forward, penetrating almost completely inside. Your nails dig into his thin skin on his shoulders, you squeeze your whole body, only then realizing that it would be easier to relax.

-Are you okay? - Benedict freezes the moment you look up at him again. He haven't seen eyes full of love and tenderness more than yours.

- Everything is fine, just a little unpleasant. - You exhale through your nose and completely relax. - Are you in pain?

There was sweat on Benedict's forehead, he hadn't moved since he was inside you. You run your hand through his soft hair and the man reaches for your touch and moans softly.

- Not at all. - He places a light kiss on your forehead and moves his pelvis slightly. - It’s so nice inside you that I’m afraid I won’t last long.

The meaning of his words, like many other words that described the relationship between a man and a woman, was not entirely clear to you, but the tone in which he spoke to you made you tremble.

- Ooo! - You squeeze Benedict and he can’t help but sigh with pleasure. - You will destroy me.

You pull your husband to you and kiss him passionately, repeating the movements with your tongue that you managed to remember during the many kisses that you shared before.

- Tell me if it hurts, okay? - He will receive confirmation from you, Benedict makes several shallow thrusts and you both feel how your velvet walls stretch, letting the man in deeper.

- You can move faster. - You catch your husband’s gaze and move closer to his movements. It’s like a wave that energetically but gently washes you, the sandy shore, from all sides. - Please make me yours, Benedict.

These words and your big innocent eyes made Bridgerton growl with desire, he increases the speed, penetrating into you faster and faster, touching more and more new points.

You hear your bodies touching wet slaps and groan dully, feeling something familiar and at the same time completely unknown. You never ended up with something (or someone) inside.

- Benedict, I...

- It's okay, my love. Just let go, I'm holding you. - You look into his eyes until they close with pleasure. Squeezing Benedict's cock felt amazing, you could feel your pussy literally singing around him and trying to milk him for every last drop.

- Please! Forgive me, fill me, I want more... - You push the sticky hair out of your face and spread your legs wider, allowing your husband to rub your clitoris with his free hand.

- Yes? - Benedict doesn’t stop, wanting to give you the most wonderful first time he could ever have. - Do you want me to fill you, sweet girl? Do you want to give birth to my child?

- More than anything else, please... - You meow and squeeze your chest, trying to ease this overwhelming tension. - I want to cum so bad!

- Come on baby, get my dick wet. - These dirty words made your pussy clench again and this moment became your death. The wave engulfed you, knocking you off balance until you lost your vision. You scream and squeeze Benedict so tightly that marks from your nails will probably appear on his shoulders.

Before you have time to recover from this state, Benedict picks you up and puts you on all fours, eagerly examining the view in front of him. Your plump and wet pussy throbbed invitingly in front of him and the man was not ready to retreat.

Leaning forward, he wraps his lips around your bud and sucks on the hot flesh. You suddenly kick and only slam your sweet pussy harder into the man’s face. He takes your ass, holding you and spreading your buttocks to the sides, plays with you with his tongue and you make a new batch of indecent sounds.

- The most beautiful woman in the world. - Benedict changes position and enters you from behind, immediately picking up a wild pace. You feel his balls slapping against your thighs, Benedict penetrates you with loud pops, your leaking pussy wets him every minute, easing the friction.

- Benedict, this is so good... - Saliva dripping onto the expensive sheets, you pressed your face against the cool fabric and only accepted your husband’s large cock, which moved behind you at an unrelenting pace.

- I'll cum inside you, my dear. I will fill you with my seed... - Ben grabs you by the throat and forces you up, his hand continues to move down. - Right here.

He wraps his large hand around you and rubs your clit again, catching your pathetic whimpers in his kiss. You jump up and down in anticipation, wanting to get everything he promises you. You want everything!

- You’ll be swollen with my baby, and when your beautiful pussy is rested, I’ll fuck another baby inside you. I will fuck you every day, wherever you want. Would you like it?

- Y-yes, please.

- That's right, my little slut. Only mine! - Ben squeezes your waist tighter, you feel that his thrusts are not so accurate and fast, he was close. - Come on, sweetie, take it all like a good girl.

Warm cum coats you from the inside, you hear the squelching sound with which Ben continued to take you, pushing the cum back inside.

You fall face first into the bed, your ass left in the air and you feel the remnants of your passion running down your leg. Benedict strokes your back and helps you sit down on the bed, remaining next to you.

- When can we do this again? - And again you look at Benedict with your huge eyes, batting your eyelashes as if you weren’t just screaming under him like a whore, ready to let Bridgerton fill you in any way he wants.

- I will need a little time. - Ben laughs, playing with your thin hand. - We have the whole night ahead of us, and I still have so much to show you.

- My cousin told me that I can put you in my mouth. Will you let me?

- God! - Benedict ends up on top of you and kisses you. - You're just a treasure.

[devildomwriter]

Ain’t No Mountain High Enough | Mammon x Reader

3.4K Words | GN! Reader | CW: mentions of sickness, some suggestiveness | Romance/Humor

When your common cold turns out to be something much more dangerous Mammon rushes into lava-flooded land to find what he believes is your only chance at making it out alive.

Another cough echoed through the house and Mammon flinched. He clicked his tongue in annoyance but Lucifer knew he was only worried.

“They’re still sick?” He asked for the millionth time that day. Lucifer sighed, tired of hearing the same question every few minutes, and nodded.

“Mammon, for the last time—“ he began but his office door swinging open cut him short.

“Lucifer,” Diavolo exclaimed making the two brothers jump.

“Lord Diavolo?” Lucifer asked, unprepared for his sudden entrance.

“I’m afraid I have some unpleasant news—“ his words were cut short by another gaggle of hacks and coughs from the other side of the house.

“That’s, ___, isn’t it?” He asked, brows furrowed in distress.

“Yes. Their cold hasn’t gone away,” Lucifer confirmed and Diavolo shook his head as Barbatos entered the room, equally concerned.

“That’s why I’m here, actually,” Diavolo frowned and Barbatos stepped up to explain in his place, seeing how upset Diavolo was.

“It’s not a cold.” He stated and Mammon jumped to his feet.

“Huh? What is it then?”

“If you’d let me explain,” Barbatos scowled but in his panic, Mammon wasn’t phased.

Lucifer clenched his jaw anxiously and Barbatos continued. “It’s the Hell-Magma Virus.”

“The what?” Mammon interrupted again and this time Lucifer glared at him too and yelled at him to quiet down.

“The recent volcanic eruptions in the third layer have released a slew of ancient viruses. This one is akin to the common cold and relatively easy for a demon to recover from, however—“

Another cacophony erupted from your room as you coughed and cleared your throat continuously. You struggled just to clear your airways from the drainage so you could breathe.

Leviathan cautiously walked into the office while Satan strode in as if he belonged there. He walked up to Diavolo and demanded answers as he’d been eavesdropping.

“You’re not even gonna hide the fact you were listenin’ in?” Mammon scoffed and Satan rolled his eyes.

“As if you wouldn’t do the same.”

“Well, yeah, but that’s different—“

“Mammon shut up!” Lucifer scolded.

“Why only me?” Mammon yelped.

“Quiet!” Satan, Lucifer, and Leviathan yelled simultaneously.

Barbatos shook his head at their quarrel and continued. “The medication we’ve acquired was made from flowers at the bottom of the volcano before the lava burned what was left. We don’t have a strong enough variation of this medication to cure ___.”

“So, we’ll call for Simeon,” Lucifer suggested but Diavolo shook his head.

“This virus…it’s more of a curse, there’s only so much Simeon can do. This curse which acts as a contagious virus will continue for at least twenty days. The medication for demons should clear up their symptoms in three days but for ___ that will be too late. The effects they are experiencing now will worsen until their saliva bubbles and the accumulating mucus in their throat becomes hot enough to burn through their lungs—“

“Aaaah! I don’t wanna hear it!” Mammon cut him off. “Just tell us how to fix it!” Rather than scold him, his brothers agreed and they looked pointedly at Diavolo and Barbatos.

“Well, we’re working on a medication now with aid from our magic but it would be beneficial for us to have more of the magma-glories to work with.”

“Right, got it! Where are they!?” Mammon exclaimed, ready to run.

“Hold on, Mammon,” Lucifer warned.

“There should be more in the fourth layer. However, it’s too dangerous to teleport there as we can’t be sure the lava hasn’t spread anywhere we attempt to land.” Barbatos explained.

“Flying isn’t an option either. The plume of smoke and ash will make it impossible to see or breathe,” Diavolo continued.

Lucifer clenched his fist, “Then I’ll figure something out,” he growled and Diavolo nodded.

“Right, why don’t we call Solomon,” Satan advised and they agreed. All except for Mammon who was already out the door.

“Where did Mammon go?” Lucifer asked, already knowing the answer.

“That idiot…” Leviathan mumbled.

Leviathan left to tell his brothers what was happening and they rushed to your bedside as their older brothers and wiser friends discussed what to do.

You continued coughing and groaned in agony. You felt like you were choking and not even Simeon’s and Luke’s angelic powers could cure it; they could only keep it at bay enough to let you lay down again without suffocating.

You saw their worried expressions and knew something was different, it wasn’t just a cold.

“So—“ you croaked. “Wh-ats, hap-ppen–ing?” You struggled to speak as your throat scratched with every word.

“Well…” Asmodeus bit his lip and looked away and Levi looked at the ground while Beelzebub stayed silent.

You could only wonder what was threatening your life this time around. Tuesday was the last time you nearly died, it was Saturday, and you’d gotten sick Wednesday. That didn’t take long at all, did it…

“Well…” Belphegor tried to explain when Solomon burst through the door to your room.

“Eek! Solomon, give us some warning!” Asmodeus cried out. Solomon ignored him and instead rushed to your side.

“My poor apprentice,” Solomon cooed sadly, but then he grinned and held up a glowing purple vial.

“N-o!” You choked.

“It’s not food,” Satan explained walking in with Diavolo, Lucifer, and Barbatos. You sighed in relief and Solomon frowned.

“I could make you some soup though—“

“There’s no time for that nonsense,” Lucifer hissed and the sorcerer sighed and fed you the potion.

“What is that?” Leviathan asked and Lucifer sighed, more relaxed than he had been.

“It’s the cure. Solomon made it the last time it went around in the Devildom, just in case he could catch it. He didn’t…so he still has it and now it’s very potent due to the amount of time.”

“Wow, really?” Asmodeus gasped. “How long has that been?”

“Hey, there! There’s no need to go explaining my age to them,” Solomon waved, silencing him in an instant. Solomon turned back to you in bed and ignored the question.

Your sickly pale, pasty skin, ten shades lighter than usual began regaining its normal color. Almost immediately you felt the strength to sit up, but as soon as you did, the nausea came in full force. You bent over the trash can, vomiting what seemed like an eternal river of mucus that burnt through the trash can.

“Eek!” Asmodeus screamed in fear and disgust and the brothers looked away uneasy.

Solomon was shocked, “it’s already gotten so bad?”

Barbatos shook his head amazed, “I see. Thankfully ___ is significantly stronger with their pacts and the help of Luke, Simeon, and Raphael.”

“Yes. Thirteen was keeping an eye on their candle too,” Solomon informed.

“That’s cause she wants ___’s soul.” Belphegor chided.

“That’s true, but she doesn’t want it right now,” Solomon argued for Thirteen’s sake. Thirteen wanted your soul as much as anyone but more than that she wanted to enjoy your presence and life much longer.

You rubbed the crust from your eyes and Beelzebub gave you a wet rag to wipe your mouth as Belphegor pulled your hair back.

“Hey…where’s Mammon?” You inquired and everyone looked at each other.

“Oh…somewhere in the fourth layer surrounded by active volcanoes,” Satan said nonchalantly.

You spit out the water Asmodeus had just handed you and he shrieked and wiped his face off.

“What do you mean!?” You demanded.

“Well you see, before we got in contact with Solomon, our options were to experiment with lesser medications we had or to create more potent ones.” Barbatos explained, “We needed a special flower for that, so Mammon ran off to get it.”

“Active volcanoes? He slips down the stairs at least once a week why in the three worlds did you let him go alone!?” You panicked and Lucifer looked guilty.

“He’ll be back when it gets too hard,” Leviathan clucked and you shook your head.

“No, he won’t! It’s Mammon we’re talking about!”

“Exactly,” Belphegor sneered.

You shook your head and glared, “Right! So you should know that when it comes to me Mammon will do literally anything.”

They all fell silent as they thought it over and realized you were right.

“Oh…so he’s probably,” Leviathan muttered.

“At the volcanoes…” Beelzebub worried, frowning.

“Ugh…” Belphegor sighed but was the first to speak up, “Let’s go get our idiot brother.”

Everyone nodded, “Right.”

They began to shuffle out the door but you stopped them before they could leave.

“Wait! One thing!”

“Yeah?” Leviathan asked, worriedly.

“All of you need to promise me—no—you must obey me when I tell you—do not let Mammon know you cured me.”

The six brothers immediately nodded, subjected to your power, but Solomon looked puzzled. “Oh, and why not?”

You frowned, “because…I want Mammon to think he saved me. He tries really hard and…”

“Falls flat?” Satan huffed.

“Fails?” Leviathan stated.

“Disappoints us every time,” Lucifer grimaced.

“He tries?” Asmodeus questioned.

“Enough!” You barked. “Mammon tries really hard and I want him to think he saved my life. Especially because if you didn’t conveniently have this vial, Solomon, Mammon was the first one out that door ready to brave flowing lava and poisonous smoke for me!”

“Poisonous?” Belphegor asked.

“How poisonous…” Beelzebub gulped.

“Uh…well I’m not a volcanologist, as cool as that would be, but…” You looked at Barbatos for help.

“Human world volcanoes release ash that can be detrimental to health when inhaled, even having long-term effects,” he began. “The volcanoes also release carbon dioxide which is deadly when exposed to for too long. Here in the Devildom, it’s the same but at more lethal levels. A high-level demon like Mammon should be fine if he inhaled some but…”

“But he’s probably panicking and running around like a moron looking for the flowers,” Lucifer sighed.

“Well, hurry and get him, he might be passed out on a rock somewhere!?” You ordered and they immediately left.

Simeon, Raphael, and Luke stayed behind to monitor you. Thirteen showed up an hour later when she was sure your life candle was stable.

“Which button do I press if there’s an emergency…?” Simeon asked and angled his phone for Luke to look at it.

“The green one! It’s always the green one!” Luke barked, upset he still had to explain these things to Simeon.

“At this point, he’s got to be messing with you,” Thirteen remarked and walked to your bedside, sitting next to you.

You could tell she had been stressed and you squeezed her hand. She blushed and took it away, “huh? What was that for?” She asked and you laughed at her cute response.

“Thank you,” you said and she turned a deeper shade of pink.

“You mean for looking after your candle? Obviously, I’m not just gonna let you die, you’re way too entertaining.”

You chuckled, “Okay. Sure.”

“What do you mean, sure?” She demanded but Simeon’s phone began ringing.

“The green one?” He asked.

“Yes!” Luke threw his hands up in the air, exasperated.

“Calm down Luke, it’s okay,” Raphael patted his shoulder and Luke crossed his arms and huffed as Simeon held the phone out for everyone to hear.

“The speaker, Simeon,” Thirteen reminded.

Simeon instantly looked confused so Raphael hit the button for him.

“Can you repeat that,” Luke asked.

“We found him,” Satan’s voice sounded over the speaker.

Your shoulders relaxed and you let out a deep sigh, relieved your precious but often stupid demon hadn’t gotten himself killed while running around.

“He didn’t even know what the flower looked like!” Leviathan shouted into the phone and Satan scolded him for being so loud.

“And?” Raphael prodded.

“He found it anyway…” Satan mumbled, seemingly not wanting to admit it.

“Wow, really!?” Luke exclaimed and Raphael looked similarly surprised.

“You were right, ___.” Simeon smiled at you knowingly and you blushed.

“How is he doing?” You asked loudly until Luke finally handed you the phone.

“He’s unconscious. As soon as he saw us he passed out.”

“From fear?” Raphael questioned disgruntled.

“IDK, probably relief. Looks like he was trying to call us.” Leviathan responded and you frowned.

“There’s no fucking signal out here what’d he expect?” Belphegor complained.

“Then how are you calling?”

“Solomon has a spell for everything,” Leviathan responded. “Anyway, we’re teleporting back home now, clear the area in your room.”

“My room—“

“Hurry,” Raphael warned and picked up Luke, jumping away to the edge of your room as Simeon and Thirteen scrambled to jump on your bed.

With a puff of smoke the brothers, Barbatos, Diavolo, and Mephistopheles appeared in the room covered in ash.

Mephistopheles started coughing and wiping the ash off himself as much as he could.

“Oh, hey, Mephisto,” you commented, unaware he’d been part of the crew.

“Likewise,” he grumbled, unhappy with his present state.

“Yeah, we found him too,” Belphegor chuckled and Mephistopheles blushed.

“I would’ve been just fine for your information,” he insisted.

“You didn’t even realize you were surrounded by lava you were so busy taking pictures of it,” Satan argued and the purple-haired demon stiffened up and blushed.

“Mephistopheles, please take better care of yourself. It may be a historically large eruption, but still,” Diavolo worried and Mephistopheles straightened up and bowed, offering a strew of apologies as Diavolo awkwardly accepted them.

Lucifer had Mammon slung over his shoulder and you got up from your bed. Your legs were shaky from all the time you’d spent there and Simeon caught your arm and helped you stand up properly.

“Lie back down, he’s fine,” Lucifer ordered but you ignored him and pointed to your vacated bed.

“Lay him down,” you demanded and Lucifer rolled his eyes and unloaded Mammon.

“Great, now your clean bed has ash everywhere,” Asmodeus pouted. He’d been the one trying to keep the room clean for you during your sick days.

You snapped your fingers and whispered under your breath and the ashes shone brightly and vanished into the air. Luke gasped and Asmodeus’s eyes shone as he watched its brief glow.

“Wow, it’s all gone,” Luke exclaimed.

Mephistopheles nodded and thanked you, as he wasn’t in the mood to deal with any more dirt on himself.

Mephistopheles left, still embarrassed, and Diavolo waved Barbatos and the others from the room. Lucifer ordered his brothers to follow and left you with Mammon passed out on your bed face-down.

Before Satan shut the door behind him you made a zipping motion across your lips, “Remember.” You said and he nodded and repeated the motion before closing the door.

You sighed and smiled.

You looked at the demon snoring in bed and rolled him onto his back.

“That can’t be very comfortable…” you said to yourself and with a bit of magical assistance you removed his coat and took off his sunglasses and shoes.

You drew the comforter over him and crawled onto the other side against the wall, waiting for him to wake up.

Mammon was sound asleep for a long time. Asmodeus brought you food and you played on your phone as you waited. Finally, as the sky reached its darkest hour, Mammon’s nose twitched and he began to softly mumble.

Your name poured softly from his lips and you watched him in adoration. Mammon has always been your favorite even when he wasn’t on his best behavior but today you both proved to everyone else that Mammon could be serious and trustworthy. When it came to you, there was no mountain Mammon wouldn’t climb, no sea he wouldn’t swim across, no hell he wouldn’t face…all for you.

You gently planted a kiss on his lips and his mouth twitched. Slowly Mammon’s eyes opened and his vision cleared up. He sat upright and began coughing, “Oh shit! ___! ___’s flower— I-!”

You threw your arms around him, bringing him back to the present, and as Mammon’s heart slowed he realized where he was. He felt your arms around him and immediately held you close to his chest. He buried his face in the crook of your neck and you felt your shirt dampen as he silently cried in relief.

“Y-you’re okay?” He asked.

You nodded, “Thank you Mammon.”

“Thanks? Did—did I do it?”

You nodded and he hugged you tighter, “Thank goodness… thank goodness!” He exclaimed and began laughing as a weight lifted from his chest.

“Don’t worry! What’d I tell ya, Mammon’s got your back!”

You nodded and laughed still hugging him tightly.

“Forever, right?” You asked and he pulled back looking surprised.

“Of course, forever. Did ya ever doubt me?”

“Not even for a second,” you beamed and his eyes sparkled as you leaned in and kissed his lips.

Grinning, Mammon grabbed your hips and moved you closer to him, positioning you on his waist. He moaned softly as he deepened the kiss between you both. He flicked his tongue across your bottom lip asking for permission. You smirked playfully and parted your lips for him. He growled in excitement and began exploring. He grabbed the back of your head with one hand to pull you in as close as he could and when that wasn’t enough he flipped you onto your back and leaned over you.

Mammon explored your mouth with his tongue excitedly until you patted his back, signaling you needed to breathe. Mammon parted unwillingly, a string of saliva still connecting your lips as you panted heavily. You both laughed excitedly to yourselves and Mammon adjusted himself over you, slinking one hand beneath your shirt.

You moaned into his kiss when suddenly the door burst open, nearly flying off the hinges.

“Oh good, I thought you might be awake,” Satan said in a painfully fake cheerful voice.

“Shit! What the hell man, give us a minute will ya?” Mammon shouted annoyed and angry.

“Really, a minute? That’s all?” Asmodeus strode into the room and shook his head. “Poor ___.”

“Wh-hey! Y’know that’s not what I meant!” Mammon protested.

“Enough shouting,” Lucifer hissed as he joined his brothers in your room.

Your face turned red and Mammon finally swung his leg over the bed and got off of you. His hand still lingered on your slightly exposed stomach. He didn’t intend to leave without seeing more of you that night.

His brothers knew this and they had every intention to stop it.

“You guys—“ Mammon tried to protest.

“Is he awake?” Luke asked nearing the room.

“Ah, shit,” Mammon mumbled and you both straightened out your clothes and sat up straight as Luke walked in holding a small cake.

“I made an Angel Cloud cake! For your recovery!” Luke smiled excitedly and handed it to you.

“Ah sweet, looks good,” Mammon commented and from behind Lucifer, Beelzebub nodded slowly, drool running down his chin.

“Let’s split it,” you said turning to Mammon.

His eyes lit up. “Really?” You nodded and fed him a piece from your fork.

“Wh-huh?” Luke blurted in surprise at the affectionate display.

“Okay Luke, they liked your cake, see? Let’s go back home now shall we?” Simeon suggested and pulled Luke out of the room.

“Hey—wait!” Luke protested, but it was too late.

Raphael glared at Mammon and Mammon hid behind you in fear but disguised this as hugging you from behind.

Volcanoes were nothing but a glare from Raphael had him using you as a shield. He was incorrigible. But he was yours and that would never change.

After an hour of banter and talking between you and the brothers they finally left. Each gave Mammon a steely look before leaving and when Satan left last, he slammed the door shut, well aware of Mammon’s intentions.

Mammon ran to the door to lock it and sighed in relief that you were finally alone again.

He turned around to look back at you and grinned playfully, “So…still up for some fun?” He suggested and you laughed and nodded.

“With you? Always.”

Mammon did not separate from you until the early hours of the following morning, and after his actions that day you spent most of your nights this way.

Mammon would eventually find out that Solomon’s vial had saved you but he successfully “redeemed” himself when the vial turned out to be deadly too and another cure was needed. Solomon was kicked to the doghouse again, and Mammon, without too much complaint from his brothers, deservedly got you to himself once again.