#like today i can look back and remember today my bones were hurting because of this post

[atticus-cant-think]

Honestly Tumblr is great for me to track symptoms because I can look back and be like yep talked about my period here and oop I remember binging dw and posting about it while having a heavy symptoms on this day.

[inkedells]

pairing: old!logan x f!reader

Logan is sick and tired of you treating him like he's fragile. He'll ignore his relentless pain to show you what it's like to be taken apart, rough and slow, then fast and agonizing.

wc: 3.5k of pure smut

warnings: heavy smut, lap sitting, fingering, oral (f!receiving and m!receiving), dirty talk, facials, p in v, ruined orgasms, snowballing, kind of angsty, the claws come out, logan is angry with you, kinda toxic, definitely mean, but still kind of sweet, pwp basically, blood, but it's not bloodplay, it's just logan not caring if he's hurt, if i missed any let me know.

Logan comes home and throws himself back on that torn-up leather sofa, thumb flicking his lighter while the other holds a cigar. It’s less of a distraction from the ache in his bones, and more of a device to push you away. Because if you think he’s tired or angry or hurting, you won’t ask him to fuck you.

It’s not like he doesn’t want you. Of course he does. It’s the sympathy in your eyes when he gets tired from just a couple of minutes of thrusting that he hates. The whispered, “It’s okay. baby, I can ride you.” The gentle touches across his body and his neck and his face and his beard. It all reeks of pity. And if you were to sit him down one day and ask him why he hates being taken care of, he wouldn’t have an answer. He would push the voice in his head down into the void that all the strength he had left fell in, the voice shrinking until it’s nothing as it screams, because I’ve never been taken care of, and I would’ve loved it back when being taken care of wasn’t my only choice.

But it’s fine. You wouldn’t ever ask him that question because he knows for a fact that you don’t know. If you did, you wouldn’t be climbing onto his lap quietly, hands rubbing his sides as you press kisses to his neck.

“I missed you, Logan,” You whisper. Your hips aren’t moving; He knows he sat here like this to avoid fucking you, but he almost wishes you were seeking exactly that. Sex, as embarrassing as it would be for him, is better than your sick love. He doesn’t think you love in the way lovers do. It’s the kind of love meant for sick puppies, or the lonely old woman sitting on the bus with all her belongings in plastic bags.

He turns his head to take a drag of his cigar. Silence.

You hold his face, forcing him to look at you as you kiss him. Slow, chaste, no tongue. He feels scrutinized by your touches, and something nervous seats itself deep in his belly.

“How was your day?” You ask, your gaze snapping between his eyes.

Logan closes them. “I’m tired,” He says flatly.

“I know. It’s okay.”

There it is again. Pity.

He scoffs. It’s quiet. Barely there. He didn’t mean to. He watches your face fall the smallest bit. A year ago, he wouldn’t have noticed, and if he would’ve, he would blurt out an apology. Now, he does notice, but he secretly wants to watch it fall even further if it means you’ll realize how much you’ve been hurting him.

You swallow, your thumb rubbing his cheekbone. “I found an American poetry anthology in the basement today. 20th Century. My favorite poem was in it.”

He mumbles, “In a Station of the Metro. T.S. Elliot.” Remembering the poem you told him about months ago sounds too much like sorry. He wishes he’d pretended to forget.

“Ezra Pound,” You correct. Your smile tells him he’s forgiven for an apology he never offered. “If you can recite it I’ll be impressed.”

“I’m not reciting a goddamn poem.” He sounds sarcastic, and it relieves you, but then you kiss him and he’s wound tight again.

You sigh as you pull back. “What’s bothering you, baby?”

“Nothing’s bothering—”

“What’s bothering you?” You interject.

He shakes his head, clenching his jaw. He makes the decision to sacrifice his dignity for the sake of stopping this conversation. You never could resist an orgasm, especially one caused by him. “Enough of that.”

“What?”

But he’s putting out his cigar and lifting you off his lap with a suppressed grunt, then pushing you down on the couch.

“Logan,” You protest.

He continues undoing the drawstring of your pajamas, with a kind of slippery urgency that tells you he's trying to shut you up more than he's trying to satiate his own desire.

You sit up straight, swatting his hand away. “Stop.”

He withdraws immediately, breathing hard through his nose as he looks down at the floor. He was wrong, before, about you not knowing. You definitely know, because you don’t place a loving hand on his thigh and you don’t kiss his shoulder. He’s grateful.

Instead, you observe his profile, then the quiet tremor in his hand. The impossible stillness of the rest of him. He tends to do that when his nerves are on fire. Thinks being a statue is what people who aren’t in chronic pain do.

“Don’t do that,” He mumbles, feeling your eyes on him. “I don’t need you feeling sorry, or whatever—whatever the fuck else goes through your head when you’re around me.”

You say nothing. That’s the most he’s said about his feelings in a while. He knows it, so he forces himself to say nothing, too. It doesn’t last long.

“I’m not dying.” His voice cracks a little at the end and he fights the urge to squeeze his eyes shut.

“I know.” The words come out in a tumble, as if you’re rushing to participate in his lie.

“Then stop looking at me like I’m dying.”

“Okay.” Tears prickle your eyes but you blink them away.

“Okay,” He repeats.

You take a deep breath. “But it’s okay to be cared for, Logan.”

He laughs incredulously, and suddenly his volume is rising and his voice is firm. “Would you just—Would you just quit being my fuckin’ mommy? Would you?”

He only lets your silence marinate for a second before he rushes in to kiss you, ignoring the cramps in his muscles as he tugs your neck forward roughly. You squeak against his mouth, fighting his impossible grip on you, but you give up with a shaky exhale through your nose when your efforts prove useless.

“I can take care of you, too,” He grits out. It would sound sweet if it weren’t for the frustration in his tone. He pushes you onto the couch the same way he did moments before as he opens your legs by your knees and settles between them. He sucks a dark mark onto your neck, his fingers digging bruises in your ribs.

“I know you can,” You reassure him. You can see where this is going. “And I love when you do.” You gasp when he pulls your shirt up over the curve of your breasts.

“No. You don’t.” He pinches one of your nipples and sucks the other into his mouth for a brief second. “It’s okay. I’ll show you so you don’t forget again. You won’t want to get ruined any other way.”

“Logan,” You sigh.

He hums against the soft skin just underneath your breast as his hands ravage your body. He begins to unsheathe the adamantium claws in one of his hands so he can rip your top open. It’s slow and excruciating, so he closes his eyes, but the pain is over too soon and his suspicions are confirmed when he opens his eyes to see them stuck halfway.

You don’t expect him to lean back and individually tug each blade free. There’s blood, and now it’s dripping onto your belly, and he mumbles something that sounds like an apology as he wipes the dots of red away with his thumb.

But the hazel in his eyes is alive again. You hope it’s you that did that. Hope it’s not the pain or the sight of his own blood. You want to ask him, just to make sure. You don’t like hurting, right? You just really like me—

He slices through your shirt, careful not to graze your skin, and you try to ignore the fact that he’s never that cautious with himself, but you can’t.

“Logan, you’re bleeding.” Your voice is unstable.

“It’ll heal,” He says quickly, passively. He wipes his burning palm on his wifebeater.

“But that takes a long time now.”

He meets your eyes, his movements frozen. He’s angry and you’re not stupid. You’re pitying him again. He needs you to stop fucking pitying him. When he speaks, his voice is deep and rough and slow, and you would be scared if he wasn’t your Logan. “Are you done?”

You don’t know what to say, so you just close your eyes and nod. You hear his claws retract faster than when they came out, and almost simultaneously, he’s shoving that same hand under your waistband as two of his calloused fingers push themselves into your cunt.

You arch toward him involuntarily, a ragged moan falling from your lips as he tugs your pajamas off your legs and spits on your pussy to ease the slide of his fingers.

Each groan he pulls from your throat is a step toward dispelling the doubt from your body. Doubt of his capabilities, of his strength, of his devotion to you.

“Beg me to fuck you,” He demands, fingering you roughly.

Your mind is cloudy at this point, from sadness or arousal or both, but you give him what he wants. “Fuck me,” You whisper, your eyelids about to flutter shut as you shed a tear.

But then you catch Logan smiling.

He grabs your jaw with his free hand, and you look at him immediately. “You’re gonna let me use it, right? Get myself off?” You lazily trace his features with your gaze—His nose, his wrinkles, his beard—because you know if it were your fingers instead he’d mistake it for tenderness and get mad again.

You nod, but it’s weak with how hazy everything is.

“Good girl.” 

“Please,” You sigh, “I need you inside of me. I need to—I need it.”

“I know. I know what you’re feeling before you feel it.” He lets the pad of his thumb draw quick circles on your clit. “What? Thought I couldn’t hear you playing with yourself in the shower? If I can hear your heartbeat when I walk through the door, what makes you think I wouldn’t have heard you whining my name?”

“Logan,” You sigh, your hips lifting off the couch, coaxing his fingers deeper for as long as possible before he’s shoving you back down with the heel of his palm.

“I’m gonna play with you now. I’ll fuck you after, don’t worry your pretty head about it.”

“What do you mean, play with me?” You breathe, fighting to keep your eyes open as he finds your g-spot.

He grins dirtily, in a way that makes your head spin and your thighs clench around his hand. You’re barely processing his words as he bends down to mumble in your ear, “Right when you’re about to make a mess on my fingers, I’m gonna stop. Then I’m gonna go down on you. And I’m gonna lick your pretty pussy, maybe even fuck you with my tongue if you’re good. And guess what? Guess what I’m gonna do when you’re this close?”

“You’re gonna stop,” You whine.

“I’m gonna stop,” He nods, and it’s mocking, but it’s gentle, and he’s fucking killing you with the way he’s talking right now. “But I’m not mean. I’ll give you a break. You can calm down when my dick is in your mouth, okay?”

“Okay,” You breathe, your hips unabashedly grinding on his fingers. But you want to reassure him he is mean, and you especially want to tell him how much you love it. “Logan, I’m gonna—”

He withdraws his fingers from you so fast it almost burns. You clench around nothing, your lower half spasming as your orgasm barely approaches before falling away again. Only a hint of pleasure is able to make it through the cracks, and you cling onto it, hoping if you focus hard enough, the wave will come back. It doesn’t. You should regret warning Logan that you were about to finish, but all you feel is comfort now that he’s finally proud of you again.

Another tear streams down the side of your face, landing in your hair. Logan’s watching you as he pets your thigh, his lips parted when he leans down over you. He kisses your wet cheek softly, his beard rough on your skin. It’s unlike him to offer you affection this gracefully during sex. It’s always shaky limbs and suppressed groans and dirty kisses. Both of you know it. 

He moves down your body, until his face is hovering over your cunt. He doesn’t have his reading glasses on, so he has to pull his head back and squint as he spreads your folds with his thumbs, studying what you look like. He licks a stripe over you. A second, longer one, before he zeroes in on your clit. You can do nothing except lay there and take it as your hips twitch from overstimulation under his firm hands.

“Oh my god,” You whisper, your fingers twisting in his hair. “F-Fuck.”

He moans at that, pressed right up against you, the sound deep and delicious and vibrating. “Feel good?” He asks teasingly with a nip to your inner thigh.

“What do—What the fuck do you think?”

He breathes a laugh. It’s short and airy, not frustrated like before, and a warmth ignites itself in the back of your mind. It’s overpowering even the feeling of his mouth licking and sucking your most sensitive area; It’s the relief that he’s still hiding the Logan you fell in love with somewhere in there.

You wind your fingers in his hair and scratch his scalp. You try to do it lovingly, although it comes across as sexual and Logan’s breath hitches in pleasure against your pussy instead. So as you suppress a gasp from the pure skill of his tongue, you show your affection differently—you hold the wounded hand he has resting face-up beside your hip. The cuts embedded there are easy to avoid as your thumb rubs the lines of his palm, because even though you can’t see his hand, the puffiness surrounding each slash on his skin are your cues.

He doesn’t move his hand away, but his tongue falters for a fraction of a second before slowing down.

The kind of love you’re pressing into Logan’s skin with each gentle stroke is unrecognizable to him. It’s not the pitiful love he’s so used to. He thinks it might be the opposite. Admiration. Reverence.

“I’m so empty,” You whisper, bringing your hands to grope Logan’s biceps. They’re sweaty and hard and flexing under your touch, and you wonder if he would let you ride them one day.

When your climax starts to creep up on you, it’s thanks to the image of Logan forcing you to lick your arousal clean off his bicep. Indulgently swirling your tongue along his pronounced veins, savoring the taste of his sweat mixed with yourself. He’d probably say somthing like, fuckin’ filthy. Getting yourself off on my arm. Who does that? Are you that obsessed with me?

Logan feels you squeezing his tongue, harder than all the other times before, so he withdraws at the last moment, ruining your orgasm once again.

 You convulse silently, your breath coming out stuttered with your twitching jaw. As if he can read your mind, he unbuckles his belt and removes his pants and boxers. But he doesn’t strip himself of his wifebeater, stained with blood.

It’s the hottest thing in the world.

You blink, and suddenly Logan is hovering above you with his cock over your face. He rubs his leaking tip on your cheeks first, then your lips, and when you open your mouth to take him, he moves his cock away and nudges your jaw shut with his free hand, shaking his head.

“Not yet.”

A whine lodges itself in your throat as Logan spreads his pre-come over the plush of your lips. It escapes only when he lets go of his cock in favor of massaging his wetness across your lips and on your tongue with his thumb. His hard cock is bobbing above you, almost tantalizingly, the occasional drip of arousal landing itself somewhere near your eyes, then your hair, then your mouth, and you watch Logan’s brow furrow as you try to lick whatever you can.

His resolve snaps. A calloused hand squeezes at your cheeks until your jaw falls open. His cock is in your mouth before you can process it, thick and heavy and wet. So. Incredibly. Wet. You start to wonder how it’s even possible that he’s this hard at his age, but you know he wouldn’t want you to be wondering that, so you happily push the thought away.

You suck your cheeks in, swirling your tongue around his tip as you bob your head to meet the subtle, almost imperceivable thrust of his hips. You’re taking it well, you know you are. So you keep taking it, until Logan can no longer successfully suppress his moans and his hips are jerking out of rhythm.

He moves back until his cock slips out of your mouth. “I don’t wanna come like this. Wanna fuck you.”

“Yeah, yes. Fuck me. Please.”

He stands up and turns you on your front, your knees pressing into the soft couch cushions with your ass in the air.

“Logan,” You plead as you feel his tip pressing at your entrance.

“I’ve got you,” He says quietly, pushing in until half of his cock is comfortably squeezed by your cunt. Both your breathing is loud and labored, and there’s a specific kind of intimacy in knowing you’re both feeling this identical need. Overwhelming and hot and unquenchable by anything other than each other.

His first thrust is shallow, but it ruins you all the same. With how thick he is, it should feel like an intrusion, and it does. But all you can think about is how perfectly he fits inside of you, filling you extraordinarily with only a few inches.

“Fuck,” Logan breathes. “Look at that.” He traces around your entrance with his thumb. “Stretching so wide to take me.”

You moan, pressing your cheek against the sofa as you rock with his thrusts. He still hasn’t pressed all the way in yet, and you’re growing impatient. “Come on,” You urge, pushing yourself back to force more of his cock into you.

You expect him to chastise you for being so greedy, but he listens to you instead with a slow, full thrust. His tip nudges your cervix with how deep he is, and a ragged moan escapes you. “Yes,” You whine, “Oh god, yes.”

Logan’s breaths are coming out heavy through his nose, quick and occasionally intertwined with a grunt. His thrusts are getting quicker, and it’s starting to burn, but you welcome every sensation he has to offer you. He pulls out, spits on his cock, then shoves himself back inside, and this time you’re both unabashedly moaning the minute you’re joined again. 

His fingers dig in the plush of your ass as he observes himself disappearing into you. It hurts, but you love it. He knows you do, so he spanks you quickly before gripping you and rutting against you again.

“I love when you fuck me,” You whisper, feeling ashamed as soon as the confession leave you. “When you properly fuck me.”

He slows for a moment so he can watch his cock glisten with how wet you are. “I know.” He picks back up his punishing pace.

Your eyes begin to water, from pain or pleasure, you can’t tell. “I love you.”

“I know,” He repeats, this time breathier. His hips stutter. You can tell he’s close.

“I want it on my face,” You tell him quickly, his impending orgasm giving you no time to worry about being too forward.

He pulls out again, letting you turn onto your back as he shifts up your body. He jerks himself furiously, but you swat his hand away and take it upon yourself to stroke him.

“Come for me,” You tell him honestly, softly. His eyes squeeze shut and his lips part around a trembling exhale.

He groans as his release coats your face in long stripes. Some of it even lands in your hair, but you don’t care. Your own fingers work your clit as you stick your tongue out and taste him. Logan bends down to kiss you, chest heaving and hands shaky, and you rub yourself faster as you swap his release between the two of you with a hum. He pulls back to let you swallow, then he kisses your cheeks with his rough beard, uncaring about the mess on your face.

You don’t know you’re coming until it’s over and you’re breathless, and it’s almost excruciating with how much he’s ruined you, but you’re so exhausted you can’t find it in yourself to dwell on it a second longer.

You wrap your arms around his neck and tug him down for another kiss because you can hardly remember the one he just gave you.

“I’m sorry I had been treating you all wrong,” You say carefully.

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” His voice is rough.

You nod, your lips brushing his as you smooth sweaty strands of hair away from his forehead. These touches are hard for him. Any variation of your chaste affection is a reminder that he’s not really Logan anymore.

But the shame in it is gone. Replaced by the reassurance that he can still surround you with safety and firm hands and blatant desire;

And for a moment, he’s his old self again.

A/N: it's been so long since i've written anything, but logan has been consuming my brain for weeks so i had to get this out. i hope it's true to his character. <3 also, my asks are open, so feel free to request anything you want to read about.

[roseghoul26]

Cooper Howard x vault born reader. She's from one of the more messed up experiment vaults, when she uncovered the truth of the vault she runs away from it. The first interaction they have is when he tells her he fucking hates vault dwellers and she tells him "I don't really give a shit what YOU think of me". She's been in the wastes a good long while, has a lot of skills and they end up traveling together and getting close. The area she is naive in is sex her interpretation is it's boring, and hurts. He of course tries to explain that it's not suposed to feel like that. They become really close he asks if he can show her which she agrees, she cums harder than she ever has before he has to remind her to breath through it, maybe she squirts and is embarrassed he realizes it's new for her, tells her it normal and that he loves it. Bonus points for: squirting, choking, hair pulling.

Cooper Howard | The Ghoul x fem!Reader

Synopsis: A discussion with The Ghoul reveals things that you never wished to tell him, including your views on intimacy, and lack of experience. When he offers to show you what you were missing out on, how could you say no? Tags: Not Beta Read, Prompt Request, Backstory for Reader, Virgin Reader, Inexperienced Reader, Banter, This one might be even more OOC for The Ghoul, Soft Ghoul, Smut, Squirting, Doggystyle, Hair Pulling, Dirty Talk, Choking, Confessions (kind of) Author's Note: i know that vault 75 is actually like on the other side of the us from where the show takes place but this vault always stuck out to me so i needed to use it for the prompt lmao.  also thank you anon for the amazing prompt (and my first ever request :D) ! i hope this fulfilled it sufficiently!

If you’d told yourself a year ago that you’d be traveling the surface with an irradiated man dressed as a cowboy who only kept you around because you could make him his drugs, you’d call yourself insane, and rightfully so.

But here you were, following after him like an obedient soldier, just like you were raised to be. For the past few months, you had wandered alongside The Ghoul, searching for your purpose on the surface. There was a deal between you two; he’ll travel with you, and you’d make him the chems that stopped him from turning into a feral. 

It was a reluctant acquaintanceship at best, The Ghoul keeping you at an arm's length, and you didn’t blame him. The reason he had difficulty trusting you fully was because you were vault born, which he made abundantly clear when the two of you first started traveling. You spent the first eighteen years of your life in Vault 75,  where you were trained, both mentally and physically, to become the perfect soldier and scientist that would bring justice to the surface world. That had been your life’s goal, up until you turned eighteen. 

Along with the rest of the top peers, you were selected to make your way to the surface. But before you could leave they provided a vaccine, claiming that it would build immunity against the radiation that still plagued the earth. 

In actuality, it had been a sedative, and you remember awaking some time later, suspended in a glass chamber. For days, months, years, you weren’t quite sure, you were prodded, stabbed, cut open. It was pure agony, moments that you only remember in your darkest dreams, leaving you panting and shaking. To this day, you still weren’t fully sure what they had done to you, but you knew they had quite literally taken things from you that you’d never get back. 

Somehow, you managed to break free of the sedative that they continuously pumped into your body, keeping you alive yet without control of your body. You weren’t certain how you managed to escape, but you remembered that your hands and knuckles were bloody pulps, glass embedded into the flesh, fingers broken and mangled. Even now, you could still see the scars that still lingered, and the way your fingers looked off, bones not set right. It caused you issues and aches, but luckily today was a low-pain day. 

A gruff drawl snapped you out of your reminiscing, and you looked up from your hand into the eerily human eyes of The Ghoul, who had stopped in front of you. “What?” You had missed what he said. 

“The fuck you doin’?” 

“I… my hand hurts,” you lied. “Sorry.” 

He angrily grumbled something under his breath, yet you watched him dig into one of the pockets of his trench coat. He pulled out a small pill bottle, and after double-checking the contents he tossed it to you, and you caught it with your non-injured one. “Keep yer head on,” he added before turning to keep walking. 

You didn’t have to look at the bottle to know what he’d given you: painkillers. He’d always give them to you whenever your pain would flare, and each time you reevaluate your relationship with him. You couldn’t figure out if he detest you or cared about you, whether he saw you as a friend or foe. He was a confusing person, and his hard exterior and guarded responses to your questions made him hard to understand. 

“Thanks,” you mumbled, and if he heard you he didn’t respond, just continuing to walk away. Tucking the pills away, you jogged to catch up with him, keeping a few feet distance between the two of you. 

Looking around, you tried to make some sense of the dilapidated buildings and cracked roads, creating an image in your head of what you imagined the town to once be. Full of energy, full of life, able to roam without fear of being killed by man or creature, or fear of being slowly poisoned to death by radiation. 

There was a row of buildings on either side of the road, most caved in, but there were still a few that remained, windows shattered or boarded up. Rusted mental skeletons of cars littered the road, you and The Ghoul having to weave around them. Glass crunched underneath your boots, and you swore you stepped on a few bones. 

Glancing at the road, you noted how elongated the shadows were, and you didn’t have to glance behind you to know that the sun was setting, night right on the precipice of falling. Not wanting to become a late night snack for a deathclaw or some ferals, you cleared your throat, getting the attention of The Ghoul. He stilled, turning his head over his shoulder to look at you. “We should find a place to stop soon.”

You watched him debate it for a second, eyes flicking from the setting sun to the walk in front of him, then to the buildings on either side of you two. Eventually he came to a decision, sighing. “There’s a standin’ building’ down a little ways. We’ll stop there.”

You were eager to finally rest, the rifle in your hands was becoming heavy and the straps of your backpack were digging into your shoulders, so you had a bit more energy in your step as you continued down the street. As you reached the end of the street, you were able to see the building he had mentioned. It was an old shop of sorts, any signs long since gone, but it looked still relatively intact.

The Ghoul got there first, like he normally did. Opening the door with one hand, he held his gun in the other, raised and ready to shoot. He swept the room as he entered, and you follow hot on his heels, gun at the ready. 

In the dim light, you were able to see rows of shelves in the main area, a small desk with a register tucked into the left corner. There was a closed door behind the desk, and another on the rightmost wall of the building, also closed. 

Stepping further in, you were able to start making out the contents on the shelves: boxes and packages of food, no doubt beyond edible, labels faded away. But you also saw a few cans of food littering about, but you’d have to look through them once you’d cleared the building. 

Focusing back on the task at hand, you watched him peer into the far right room, before turning and speaking to you. “Check the desk,” he kept his voice low, as to not alert any possible dwellers. Nodding, you carefully made your way over to the desk, eyes rapidly scanning your environment. 

You tried to open the door, but it merely rattled against the frame, locked shut. If you had the tools, or the patience, you would’ve tried to pick the lock, but you didn’t care that much. Besides, if there was anything in there that was alive, it wouldn’t be able to get you. 

The desk didn’t have much to offer, either. Partial destroyed papers dotted the desk, and the register sat broken and open, robbed of the pre-war cash that once resided in it. You were a tad bit disappointed; it always made for great kindling. 

Searching through the rest of the drawers, you only found garbage, and after a few moments you gave up trying to find anything of value. You slowly made your way back over to The Ghoul, who had better luck than you with his door. You could hear him digging through drawers as you entered, and you were sure to make some audible noise so as to not startle him. 

It was a small living area, a twin bed tucked into the corner, as well as a kitchenette and small desk. A TV and couch sat in the center, and you saw another door, opened by The Ghoul, which you presumed was the bathroom. “Not bad,” you commented. This was truly one of the better places the two of you had stopped at; this at least had four walls and a roof. 

He grunted in response, still rifling through drawers. “Find anythin’?”

You shook your head. “I’ll go look again,” you responded, and before you backed out of the room you dumped your bag on the floor. You sighed happily at the relief, rubbing your shoulders as you began to look through the shelves again.

You didn’t bother to look at the boxed goods, heading straight to the few canned items you saw. The cans were still whole, thankfully, but the labels were long since gone. Shrugging, you grabbed the cans, about four in total, and brought them back to the other room, dumping them on the counter of the kitchenette. 

“What’s that?” You heard him ask, spurs clicking on the linoleum floor as he came over to you. The room was now illuminated by a small oil lantern placed on the desk. 

“No idea. But they’re still good. Probably.” You spoke as you moved to sit on the counter, legs dangling. Man, did it feel good to sit after walking all day. You reached for your knife, cursing when you felt empty space instead, your knife in the bag instead of on you. 

Before you could even get down, The Ghoul handed you his knife, the blade glinting in the low light. He pointed the handle towards you, and you took it from him, and you murmured a small thanks. You got to work opening the first can, hunger making your stomach rumble. The knife plunged in and out of the tin top, peeling back the rest once you got most of it cut. 

It was an almost gelatinous red substance inside, with darker red, round something suspended in it. It smelled sweet, sugary even, and you tried to tilt it into your mouth, but it didn’t budge. Maybe it had gone bad, then. 

Confused, you reached down to the drawer that was in between your legs, managing to get it open enough to reach your hand in. You grabbed the first utensil feeling thing you could find, and to your delight it was a fork. You didn’t waste any time, taking a decent-sized forkful and bringing it to your mouth. 

It was overwhelmingly sweet, and you’re sure you made some face, because The Ghoul was chuckling lightly. It wasn’t bad, but it almost hurt to eat, and the gelatinous nature of it made it stick to your teeth. “That’s whatcha get for eatin’ unlabeled food.”

You shook your head. “It’s not bad. It’s just… sweet.”

He hummed curiously, and you offered the can to him. You laughed when he eyed it suspiciously. “I promise you, it doesn’t taste bad. And I haven’t poisoned it,” you teased.

“I’m surprised you haven’t,” he grumbled, but he took the can from you. 

“I wouldn’t,” you grabbed and handed a utensil to him. “I rather like your company.”

See, as fun as it was to be out on the road, nothing but the endless horizon in front of you, it was the nights that you truly cherished. He didn’t talk much while you walked, keeping a literal and metaphorical distance between the two of you. It was like when he was on the road, he was The Ghoul, a cunning and vicious bounty hunter. But when it was just the two of you, secluded away in some abandoned house, around a fire, wherever, it was like the human side of him resurfaced, leading way to conversation and… friendship? 

You had no idea if he considered you a friend, but you knew you considered him to be one. It wasn’t like you had any other person in this wretched world, your “friends” from the vault turned enemy. As a wanderer, it was hard to build and maintain relationships with other people, so you chose to just stick with The Ghoul. 

And you wouldn’t lie, there was something beyond “friendship” that you felt for The Ghoul. It had taken too long for you to even admit that to yourself, so it was unlikely that you were going to admit to him. Besides, it went against everything that you were raised to believe, and even though you’d long since left the vault, their ideas were still ingrained into your brain.

“Not sure why,” he muttered before eating a spoonful of the mysterious substance. You were barely able to see it, but his upper lip twitched into an almost smile. You always liked when he smiled. It was rare for him, a genuine smile. He’d sneer and smirk, sure, but it was those true smiles that got your heart beating faster and your knees getting weak. You refused to name the reason why your body reacted the way it did, not wanting to face the reality that you felt something for The Ghoul just yet.

“It’s pie filling. Cherry pie filling, to be exact,” he lifted up another spoonful, one of the dark red balls on it, covered in the sheer red substance. 

“Cherry pie filling?” You said each of the words as their own question. You’d never heard of any of what he was talking about. 

He rolled his eyes, handing the can back to you, and you took another bite. You still weren’t used to the sweetness of it. “Fuckin’ vault dwellers,” he sighed. “Cherry’s a fruit. Pie is a pastry. Filling is what you put into pie.”

It didn’t clear up anything, but you nodded anyway, not wanting to annoy him further. “Interesting.” Taking one final bite, you set it next to you, moving on to the next can. You were in the middle of opening the second one when he spoke

“You mean to tell me they didn’t have pie in your vault?”

You weren’t expecting his question, and you halted mid-cut. He never asked you about the vault you grew up in, and you never told him anything besides the name and that you left. He made his opinion on vaults and vault dwellers abundantly clear when you first met all those months ago, back when your relationship was a tenuous allyship. You hadn't cared what he thought about you and your old life then, telling him straight to his face, and you certainly didn’t care now. But it was curious that he was willingly asking you about it now. 

“No,” you drew out the word, mildly suspicious. “If it didn’t have good nutritional value, then it wasn’t allowed. So no candy, no sugary drinks, no pastries. Nothing like that.” You answered while opening up the second can, and you recognized it immediately: sweet corn.

He didn’t ask any further questions, so you didn’t elaborate. Not needed to do a taste test of the sweet corn, you set it aside, then opened the other two cans, which were baked beans and tomato soup. Wordlessly, The Ghoul grabbed two of the cans, making his way over to the couch, and you followed behind him, the other two cans in your own hands. 

Sitting side-by-side, the two of you ate in silence, and you propped your legs up on the coffee table in front of you. The two of you would eat half the can before passing it off to the other. It was how you shared your dinners for at least the past month. 

It didn’t take long for there to only be the pie filling left, and you held it in your better hand. Even though you’d been free from the vault for some time, a part of you still felt wrong for indulging in a treat like this. Pushing those memories aside, you took another bite before passing it to the man next to you. You jumped when you felt his gloved fingers brush yours, and you missed the way he knowingly chuckled. 

Sighing, you sat back against the couch, ignoring the armor that dug into your shoulders, and you found your eyes flicking back down to your hand. You traced over the scars littering it, a familiar pattern to you at this point, and you flexed your fingers. They popped and cracked, bending unnaturally, and it caused a small jolt of pain to shoot through the nerves. You hadn't realized your eyes weren’t the only one on it until you heard the man beside you speak. “How’d that happen?” 

Now you were suspicious; he sounded like he actually cared. “Did you get replaced with a synth?” You asked, bewildered. 

He rolled his eyes in response, taking another bite before setting the can on the coffee table in front of you two. “I realize I don’t know a lot ‘bout you.”

“I didn’t think you cared,” you admitted. “But,” you added when he glared at you, “if you really want to know, I got it by punching something. Repeatedly.”

“If that’s your fist, I’d hate to see the other person,” he muttered. 

“Something, not someone. It was, well, glass.”

“Why the fuck were you punchin’ glass?”

“It was the only way I could escape.” You laughed humorlessly when he glanced at you, confused. “What, you think I left the vault freely?” You shook your head. “After my eighteenth birthday, they trapped me in a chamber so they could harvest stuff from my body, pumping me full of sedative and rapid-healing agents. Something about creating the ‘perfect human’. Eventually, the drug they used to keep me docile stopped working, and I was able to smash my way out. I’m pretty sure there’s some glass still left in my hand,” you chuckled, stopping when you realized he wasn’t joining in. “It’s fine. I’ve repressed most of the memories anyway.”

“Not well enough,” he muttered more to himself, and you couldn’t help the small bit of dread that washed over you at the realization that he knew about your nightmares. They made you feel weak, and you didn’t want him to think you were. 

“Well, I….” You trailed off with a sigh, finding it not worth it to try and disagree, sitting back on the couch. “Rude.”

“So you do have nightmares.” He chuckled at the glare you gave him once you realized you fell into his trap. “Are they ‘bout that?”

“Is this an interrogation?” You asked, getting defensive. “Why the fuck do you care? You haven’t before.”

“If ya paid attention, I said I barely know anythin’ ‘bout you. Figured if we’re gonna continue to travel I should know more besides your name.” He sighed before adding, “This ain’t an interrogation. You… you can ask me whatcha like.”

His reluctant openness made you feel more comfortable, and you relaxed a bit. “Really?”

“Sure, why the hell not. But answer my question first.”

There was silence for a few beats. “Fine. Yes, they’re about when they had me trapped. It’s… it’s mostly the pain I remember. And their faces, the people who raised me, who I trusted.  watching me through the glass. I forget most of the details when I wake, but that’s what sticks out.”

The Ghoul didn’t offer any verbal response, merely nodding his head slowly. You prayed that he couldn’t see the way your hands shook as you willingly brought up those memories in your brain. You shoved them away, forcing a light smile on your face. “My turn.” Adjusting so that your back rested against the arm of the sofa so you were facing him now, your knees tucked up to your chest. “What’s your name?”

He scoffed. “Out of all the questions, that’s the one ya go with?” 

“You don’t have to-”

“Cooper. Cooper Howard.” His response cut you off, and a small smile lifted the corners of your mouth. 

“A pleasure, Cooper Howard,” you smiled gently. It was hardly noticeable, but something shifted in him when he heard you say his name, but you weren’t quite sure what exactly. 

He cleared his throat while adjusting in his seat, his eyes flicking away from your own. “Better not make me regret tellin’ ya that.” 

Your slight smile fell at his semi-threat. “I’m assuming you don’t want me to call you that, then.” His responding silence was answer enough, and you didn’t press it further. “Do you got any more questions for me?”

“Plenty,” he seemed more comfortable now that the attention was off his past life. “Why the hell are ya still travelin’ with me?”

You thought of your answer for a moment. “I wasn’t lying when I said I enjoyed your company. And it’s not like I’ve got any place to go.”

“We’ve traveled to plenty of towns. Why don’t ya just stay there?”

“Do… Do you want me to leave?” It almost hurt to ask. You thought things were amicable between the two of you, and the thought of leaving your one “friend” was something you truly did not want to think about.  

He regarded you for a few moments, eyes dancing over your face. “I suppose not,” he finally sighed out, crossing his arms and resting against the back of the couch.

“Good,” you tried to not sound too relieved. “You’re stuck with me.” You swore you saw a smile tug at his lips.

“Unfortunately.” He didn’t sound too upset about it. “Anythin’ else?”

“Why didn’t you kill me when we met? I tried to rob you, and I’ve seen you kill people for less. You had the gun right to my head; why didn’t you pull the trigger?”

“That’s two questions.”

Rolling your eyes, you scoffed. “They’re the same damn thing. Just… why didn’t you kill me?”

“I dunno why I didn’t kill ya right away. Somethin’ made me hesitate. And then once I realized you was a vault born, I figured I could get a good amount of caps for you, so I kept you alive.” The Ghoul sighed. “I expected to only keep ya ‘round for a week. But then you saved my life, even though I had ya captive, and I couldn’t bring myself to sell you. That’s when I set you free.” He chuckled as he reminisced. “But for some fuckin’ reason, you decided to stick around, and I thought I was gonna regret not killin’ or sellin’ ya.”

“Do you regret it?”

“That’s three questions now, sweetheart.” Your cheeks grew warm at the nickname. It wasn’t the first time he’d called you it, but it always elicited the same reaction from you. “But no. It’s nice, havin’ someone you trust enough to watch your back. After years of solitude, wanderin’ this godforsaken Wasteland with you has been a pleasant change.”

You don’t think you’ve ever heard anyone regard you so kindly, which was insane because of who it was coming from. “Thank you,” you responded, sincerely.

“Before I inflate your ego any more, it’s my turn. Do you miss life in the vault, back before all… that?” He gestured to your hand. 

“Honestly, you’d think I would,” you chuckled. “No danger around every corner, no radiation, no worry about dehydration or starvation. It was secure, but so constricting. Every part of my life was monitored, from the foods I ate, to the things I did, to the people I spoke to. If the higher ups didn’t like it, they’d make me change. If anything threatened the ability to become the most optimized person, then it was removed. I’ve had more freedom during the time I’ve spent up here than I did for the first eighteen years of my life.” You took a breath. “So, no, I don’t miss it.”

It went like that for a good while, you weren't quite sure how long, and eventually the two of you finished off the pie filling. Questions were shot back and forth, and you learned some things about the man beside you that you never thought you���d know. He learned more of the experiments led by Vault 75, and your role in it. You refrained from asking him about his life before becoming The Ghoul, and although he didn’t say it, you could tell that he was grateful. He had long since shed his coat, draping it across the back of the couch, down to only a once luscious blue button down. His hat was also off, sitting on the table alongside the now empty cans. 

You had asked him about the strangest person he’d met, and he was recounting this one “doctor” he’d met in Filly, with greased hair and a rotted cap, selling ailments for quite literally every predicament. “Pretty sure he was fuckin’ the livestock,” he added, and you gapped at him, horrified. “Strange fellow indeed. But, after that it probably has to be this vault born I met, who no matter what I do, refuses to leave.”

“I’m second after that? I… fuck you!” You’d never sworn at him before, but now felt like a good time to change that. 

His brow raised, shocked, and he grinned at you. “Looks like I’m rubbin’ off on ya, sweetheart.”

Rolling your eyes, you tried to hide your own smile behind your knees, which were still tucked up close to you. “It’s your turn. Although, I don’t know if I wanna respond after you insulted me like that.”

“My apologies,” he responded, not sounding sorry at all, especially with the way he continued to chuckle as he thought of a question. “Did ya have friends? Lovers, perhaps?”

If you weren’t blushing because of the nickname, then you certainly were now. It was a taboo subject in your vault, having lovers. Romantic companionship was seen as a hindrance, a liability. “I had some friends, sure, but they all turned out to be back-stabbers or were taken like me. I don’t know if they survived; I couldn’t stop to rescue them if I wanted to live.” You shook off the bit of guilt you felt when thinking of the others. “But I wasn’t close friends with anyone. As weird as it is, you’re the closest thing to a true friend I’ve ever had.”

“You only answered half my question.” Damn him. “Any lovers?”

“No.” Your hand was looking quite interesting now, and you traced over the familiar pattern of the scars again. 

“‘No’? That’s it?” If looks could kill, The Ghoul would be six feet under right now. “Touchy subject?” 

You realized that no matter what you said, he was still going to continue to ask. Groaning, you let your head sag back off the couch, not wanting to make eye contact with him when you responded. “We weren’t allowed to take… lovers. There were no romantic relationships allowed in the vault; they were seen as a liability. And I know that they’re not, but it’s been drilled into my brain that they’re wrong, that they’re… improper, and I’d rather not talk about it.”

When he didn’t respond, you thought he lost interest in the subject, and you slowly began to lift your head back up. “How the fuck did you guys repopulate?” And there your head went back down, face burning. 

“IVF. They took the eggs and sperm from the captives, as they were the best genetically, physically and mentally, and then put them in the body of one of the scientists.” You chose to not add the fact that there was an entirely real possibility that you had a kid or two.

“So no sex then?”

Something like a groan and a curse left your lips, and you squeezed your eyes shut, embarrassment and something else washing over you. How you wished for a raider or synth or anything to break down the door and kill you. “No,” you responded, and you missed the way his gaze locked on to you, intrigued by your answer.

“So you’ve never-”

“No!” You didn’t let him finish his question, not caring about what you just admitted to him.

“Not even after you left?”

“No.” You were getting really tired of your same responses. 

“Why not? It ain’t like you got your vault monitoring everythin’ ya do anymore.”

“Well…” you sighed, running a hand over your hot face. “It seems boring, from what I heard. I’m just supposed to, I dunno, sit there in pain while they use me for their own pleasure. It’s never appealed to me.” That last part was a lie, and you both knew it. You just wanted to hold on to some semblance of your pride that was lying in tatters around you.

He had the audacity to laugh, and you wished the couch would just swallow you whole. “I dunno who told ya that, but it ain’t like that. Not even fuckin’ close.”

Shakily, you exhaled, your heart feeling like it was about to beat out of your chest. You couldn’t believe you were having this discussion, with The Ghoul of all people. His next words had you going deathly still, staring wide-eyed at the mildewed ceiling. “Can I show ya?” 

In just one sentence, he managed to change the entire atmosphere of the conversation, of your relationship. You wouldn’t deny, the idea of being intimate with him was appealing, and definitely not the first time you’d thought of it. What made this time different, though, was that you didn’t push those thoughts away, disgust and shame not overwhelming you. And it was also different because this wasn’t just a scenario that you’d played out in your head, alone while you slept. No, this was actually happening. 

“What?” You managed to stammer out, sitting up slowly. Your mouth went dry at the way he stared at you, almost hungrily. You squirmed under his intense gaze, which seemed to please the man. 

“Can I show ya what it’s supposed to feel like?” He repeated again, and one of his gloves hands crept across the couch, resting an inch away from where your legs were. “If ya don’t want this, just say the word, and we can pretend like this ain’t ever happened. But I can promise ya won’t regret it.” For once, you were grateful for his self-assurance and cockiness, as it bolstered your own confidence in your decision. 

It felt like five hours had passed before you nodded, and you felt his hand brush up your clothed calf, gripping the muscle lightly. “Lemme hear ya say it, sweetheart.”

Even though it was far from the first time he’d called you sweetheart, the implications now made your face burn even more. He made it sound dirty, and you had to take a breath before speaking. “Show me.” Your voice barely came out as a whisper; any louder and you feared it would crack.

You let out a startled noise when he pulled you close to him using the hand on your calf, the action effortless; you’d forgotten how unnaturally strong he was. You were now laying down fully on the couch, hair splayed out around you. He moved between your legs, hands now braced on either side of your head as he leaned above you. His face hovered a few inches from yours, and you could feel his breath as he spoke. “You gotta let me know if ya don’t like somethin’, deal?”

“Deal.” 

You shivered when you felt him caress your cheek, a surprisingly gentle gesture from the rough man you knew. He smiled at your body’s response to him. “Finally,” he muttered out, but you didn’t get a chance to ask for further elaboration before his lips were on yours. 

Unlike his touch, they weren’t gentle, almost bruisingly strong against yours. You groaned, and you could feel him smirk. The hand that had been touching your face settled, grasping the side of your face in a warm, gloved palm. The other hand remained braced by your head, keeping him upright. You found yourself latching your own around his wrist, the other grabbing a handful of his shirt, trying to find some way to keep you grounded. 

Kissing felt even better than you’d imagined it would. You didn’t think it would be so enjoyable, feel so good, so right. It was like his lips were made to slot perfectly against yours. If you concentrated hard enough, you could taste cherry pie filling the both of you had eaten. You jolted when you felt teeth tug at your bottom lip, a droplet of pain in the sea of pleasure, and your grip tightened even more, threatening to tear the clothing. You didn’t think he would mind. 

Energy pulsed through your body, and you found yourself unconsciously beginning to move, your hips moving in small circles. A familiar tension began to form in your lower body, something you felt during your late night thoughts of The Ghoul. Even though it was only just forming, you’d never felt it this intensely before, and you were desperate for some kind of relief. 

An amused chuckle left him, pulling away slightly to do so. You almost whined at the loss of contact, and you attempted to pull him back down with the hand that currently had a fistfull of his clothing, but he didn’t budge. “Eager?” It was a rhetorical question, but you found yourself nodding anyway. 

“Please.” What you were asking for, you weren’t quite sure. Your words trailed off into a sigh when you felt his lips return, this time along your jaw by your ear. He left your cheek, running down the front of your body tantalizingly slow. 

“Where’s these manners comin’ from?” It sounded like his voice had turned raspier, and it elicited a shiver from your body, his lips still pressed close to your ear. “If this was all it took for ya to start actin’ all proper, then I would’ve done this weeks ago,” he teased, and his fingers ran underneath your breasts. 

Maybe it was his lips on your skin, or the way he pressed his body into yours, or the way he touched you, but you lost control of the words tumbling from your mouth. “I would’ve let you,” you admitted, and even though it was quiet you heard his breath hitch. 

“Yeah?” His voice had somehow gotten even raspier, and he groaned when you nodded. “Fuck, sweetheart,” his teeth nipped at your earlobe before moving further down your neck. You no longer felt his lips; instead you felt tongue and teeth leaving marks, growing more fervent as he descended. 

You let go of his shirt, your fingers popping uncomfortably, yet you paid it no mind. You rested your hand on the back of his head instead, almost immediately pulling it away, unsure if he wanted to be touched or not. But you felt him gently grab your wrist, bringing your hand back to where it had once been, making an approving noise when your fingers made contact. 

When he reached the strap of your shoulder armor, you felt him immediately get to work at losing the strap, and you sighed in relief when fresh air hit the newly exposed skin. He tossed it to the side somewhere, and it didn’t take long for your chestpiece to join it. The only thing left on the top half of your body was your bra and tank top, yet you felt completely naked, both because of the lack of armor and the way his eyes bore into your body.

His eyes trailed over the top of your chest, which was rising and falling rapidly, greedily taking in the swell of your breasts. You gasped when he took them in his hands, kneading and toying with the tender flesh. Even through the thick material of his gloves and your clothing, you could still feel his heat. But you wanted to feel him closer. You wanted to feel his bare hands on your body. 

Before you could even comprehend what you were doing, you were tearing off your tank top, throwing it somewhere in the room. You arched your back, your chest pressing further into his touch, and he groaned. Reaching behind, you had enough confidence to unlatch your bra and remove it, but not enough to look him in the eye. Your cheeks were burning, a flush creeping down your neck. 

“Fuckin’ perfect,” you heard him mutter, and his praise gave you enough confidence to finally return your gaze to his, expecting them to be locked on your chest. And they were, at least until he felt your eyes on him. His pupils were blown out, irises gone, and the almost predatory smirk on his face made you look away again, the tension in your body growing. 

“Take them off,” you whispered when his touch returned. His movement stilled, much to your dismay. “Your gloves,” you pleaded. “Take them off.”

When he didn’t respond, you forced your attention away from the ceiling, breath catching when you looked into his eyes. “And here I was praisin’ your manners,” he rebuked, and even through the lust in his eyes you could see a playful glint. “C’mon, you can do better than that.”

“Please take your gloves off,” you responded immediately, not caring if you sounded desperate. “I wanna feel your hands on me, please.”

“Much better,” he practically purred, and you watched him bring a hand up to his own mouth, tugging the glove off his hand with his teeth and letting it fall, landing on your body. It almost felt wrong to see his hands without gloves on them; it felt like he was more undressed than you.

He wasted no time in returning his now bare touch to your breasts, and it felt better than you thought it would. Fingers dexterously toyed with your now perked nipples, pulling little noises from you. You never thought it would be enjoyable to have someone playing with your breasts like this, but you were happily proven wrong.

It was when his mouth joined the fray that your noises turned louder, his lips wrapping around your other nipple. When his teeth grazed the sensitive bud, your hips bucked right against his, and you felt him groan against your chest. Wanting to hear that noise again, you repeated the action, and your ears were blessed once again. 

But your victory was short lived, and the hand that had been by your head the entire time finally moved, pressing your hips down into the couch. “Behave,” you heard him growl, not halting his attention towards your chest. But you did see his eyes flick up, making it look like he was glaring at you, and you found your mouth going dry. You nodded, not finding it in yourself to go against him just yet, to see how far you could push him. You hoped there would be a next time.

He continued to lavish your chest for a few more moments, swapping his hand and mouth, continuously building up that tension in your core. You fought against the desire to move your hips, his “threat” still ringing in your ears. Your hand was still resting on the back of his head, trying and failing to keep your nails from digging into his scalp. A particularly hard suck had them biting in deep, but any apology you had died on your lips at the sinful moan he let out, followed by a string of expletives. You took a mental note to do that again later.

With a pop, he removed his mouth from your chest, and he let you pull him up into a searing kiss. His hand sneaked down between your bodies, which you only realized when you felt his fingers run beneath the waistband of your jeans and underwear.

He pulled away, sitting back on his heels, and you weren’t quite sure who was panting heavier. You immediately missed the feel of his body over yours, the comforting weight of him, and you couldn’t help the small pout that formed on your lips as you tried and failed to pull him back down again. “Please,” you whispered, hoping that your words would convince him. And you could tell they almost worked, his jaw clenching as he grit his teeth. 

But he didn’t relent. Instead, you watched as he began to slowly unclip your gunbult, your armor, your kneepads. Every bit of protection against the Wasteland stripped from you, joining the pile on the floor, leaving you only in your clothes. It was freeing, yet a bit nerve wracking, your chest continuing to rise and fall rapidly. 

You tried to lean down to help with your boots, but he swatted your hands away, silencing any rebuttal with a look. It took a few moments, but he eventually was able to remove your boots and socks, but you barely heard the sound of them hitting the floor over the loud heartbeat in your ears. He practically ripped off your pants, his patience becoming thin because of the boots, but you were just grateful he didn’t actually ripped them. Good clothing was hard to come by.

His gaze was locked onto your lower body as he eased off your underwear, the final article of clothing on your body joining the rest. You were almost glad to be rid of them; they were cold and uncomfortable, and damp, for some reason. But it didn’t seem to put off The Ghoul. In fact, it seemed to please him immensely, an almost proud grin on his lips.  

You quickly grew embarrassed under his ravenous gaze, his eyes trailing over every inch of your body. You tried to close your legs, or at least tuck them to your chest to try and cover you, but he was having none of it. Two hands, one gloved and one not, wrapped around your ankles, pulling them back down and out. “None of that. Lemme see ya.”

Swallowing, you relaxed, at least as well as you could. It became easier when you saw how much he was loving your body. His eyes jumped around, like he was trying to memorize every detail of you. “Like I said. Fuckin’. Perfect.” You weren’t expecting the sheer honesty in his voice. 

The hands on your ankles began to slowly trail up, making goosebumps appear on your skin. It was like your skin was a million times more sensitive when someone else was touching you. You got lost in his touch, your eyes fluttering close, simply enjoying the feel of another person. 

They shot open when his touch suddenly left, and you gaped at him, confused. You watched him adjust so that he was now sitting normally on the couch, resting against the back of it. 

You understood, though, when he patted his legs, wanting you on his lap. With shaky movements, you complied, but were once again confused when he stopped you, hand resting on your shoulder. Wordlessly, he turned you so that your back was to him, and you let out a startled noise when he roughly pulled you onto his lap, his still clothed chest pressing into your bare shoulders. 

Moving the hair from your neck, you felt his lips return their ministration on your neck, and your head rolled back, giving him more access. Both hands were on your body, ungloved one returning to your breasts, the other skating down the side of your body. You gasped when it began to inch towards your center, and you felt him chuckle. “So sensitive,” he commented almost absentmindedly.

You felt him grip your thigh, spreading your legs even farther so that they went around his own, now using his knees to keep your legs open. It left you completely exposed and at his mercy, but you felt comfortable, safe even. Relaxing fully against his chest, your head now rests on his shoulder, and if you strained enough you were able to look at him. It was clear by the expression on his face that he was enjoying this just as much as you were, if not more.

He reached his hands around your body, and began to pull the glove off his other hand. You stopped him with a gentle grasp of his wrist, tugging his hand to your mouth. Just like he did, you took the material between your teeth, and he was able to free his hand with a tug. “Thank you, sweetheart,” he rasped. “Think ya can do one for thing for me?”

“Anything,” you responded, and you felt two of his fingers, the middle and ring, trace your bottom lip. 

“Anythin’?” You nodded, not caring what that might imply. “Well, I’ll have to keep that in mind. But first,” those fingers tugged at your lip, “get those nice and wet for me.”

Even though you weren’t quite sure what you were doing, you parted your lips anyway, taking the digits into your wet mouth. Slowly, you began to bob your head up and down, running your tongue along the textured skin, barely tasting the saltiness of it. Whatever you were doing seemed to please him, because you felt his chest rumble with a groan. 

Before you could build a rhythm, he pulled them out with a pop, and they glistened in the low light. He didn’t give you much time to observe them, though, because before you could process he was running them through your folds. The sudden touch in your most sensitive area made you try and shut your legs, but his knees made it impossible.

His chest rumbled with a light laugh, and you were confused as to what could possibly be amusing him. “Guess that wasn’t necessary; you’re already so damn wet for me.” You detected another hint of pride, this time in his voice. 

Another swipe had you moaning, but then you felt his fingers locate something between your legs that made you cry out, your legs jerking involuntarily. “There we go,” he rumbled, and he focused his attention on that area, fingers pressing firm and slow circles into it. You weren’t quite sure what he was doing, but it felt incredible, the tension that had slowly begun to rescind returning. 

You tried to tell him, but it came out as a garbled moan instead. “Feel good?” It was another rhetorical question, and you yet again nodded, and you watched his lips quirk up. 

“Ghoul…” you moaned out, one of your hands reaching behind to hold the back of his head, needing something to hold onto as he continued to pleasure you. 

For the first time since you’d met him, something like self-consciousness flicked across his face, gone as soon as it came. “That ain’t my name, sweetheart. C’mon, lemme hear ya say it,” he almost sounded desperate as he talked. 

It took a moment for your lust-addled brain to remember what he had told you earlier in the night. “Cooper…” you sighed out, and he bit back his own moan, and you felt his hips jump the tiniest bit. 

“And I thought I liked hearing ya say my name, but fuck, I like hearin’ ya moan it a hundred times more.” You realized that when you had seen something shift in his eyes when you first said his name was disdain, it was actually the opposite. That realization had you smiling, and you managed to pull him down into a messy kiss, the angle too weird to allow a proper meeting of your lips. 

But it wouldn’t have lasted long anyways, another few moments of his fingers making you cry out again, that tension beginning to become unbearable, like it was just on the precipice of snapping. “Cooper.” It came out as a moan, but with a hint of confusion and worry behind it, unsure of what was happening with your body.

“You close?” 

“Close?” You had enough focus left to be confused, and even though his fingers didn’t yield, you felt the rest of him go still. 

“You’ve never… oh, fuck,” his voice turned husky, almost like a growl, “am I gonna make you come for the first time?” He sounded elated. It just created more questions, but another swirl of his fingers made all thoughts go out the window.

You fidgeted and squirmed, trying to escape the onslaught of things you were feeling. “Relax. I promise ya, this’ll feel good.” And because you trusted him, foolishly or not, you did relax, no longer fighting against him. It felt like you were a dam that was about to burst, and you barely registered that your nails were digging back into his scalp until you heard one of those delicious moans escape his lips.

That sound triggered something in you, and all at once that tension snapped, exploding like something that was pulled too tight. Pleasure ignited your body, making it feel as light as a feather. Every nerve in your body was humming, and you swore you blacked out for a moment. 

His voice, gruff yet a bit concerned, brought you back to your body. “Breathe,” you heard him say, and you realized the dizziness you were feeling wasn’t just because of the mind-shattering pleasure you’d just felt, but you indeed had stopped breathing. Inhaling shakily, you felt some of that dizziness leaving now that oxygen had returned to your lungs. 

An uncomfortable jolt had you glancing down between your legs, where he continued to pull every last bit of pleasure from your body. “S’too much,” you managed to slur out, your voice quite hoarse. He halted, thankfully, resting his hand on your thigh, still close enough to your center that you could feel the heat from his hands. 

“You alright, sweetheart?” He sounded mildly amused, and if your muscles weren’t currently jelly you would’ve hit him. 

“I… what did…” you said between gasping breaths, trying to get your heart rate back down. 

“You just came. Rather loudly, at that,” he teased, and your incredibly hoarse voice made sense now. You were suddenly very glad that you were in the middle of nowhere. 

Turning so that you were able to face him better, you felt the material of his pants rub against your bare legs, which wouldn’t have been too weird if it weren’t for the fact they were wet, borderline soaked. The hand that had just been resting on your thigh was brought into view, just as soaked as his pants, and you watched as he examined his hand, almost transfixed. “And messily,” he added, and you felt your cheeks burn even more than they already were. 

You opened your mouth, ready to apologize, but nothing but an airy noise left you as you watched his tongue run from up from his wrist to his fingers. A pleased hum left him, his eyes never once leaving your own as he continued to clean his hand, like it was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted, even better than the desert you had shared. There was a stir in your gut at the action, what you now assumed to be arousal coming to life as you continued to watch him. 

When he caught you staring, his lips twisted into one of those smirks that made your stomach flip. Turning fully in his lap so you were now straddling him, you tugged his wrist far enough away so that you could kiss him. You groaned when his tongue swept between your parted lips, his slightly damp hand holding the side of your face gently. 

With shaky fingers, you began to try and unbutton his shirt. You didn’t get far before he was suddenly standing, and even though he had an arm tucked beneath your thighs, you still clung on to him, legs and arms wrapping around him tightly. Not once did he remove his lips, even when he bumped into a few things on the way to the bed. It was like all that mattered was you and the way you felt. 

The bed, which was barely big enough for one person, let alone two, squeaked obnoxiously when he lowered you onto it, but neither of you paid attention to it. And it wasn’t like you had to worry about anyone else hearing. Like on the couch, he hovered over your body, arms braced on either side of you. His lips were back on your neck, giving you a few moments to take heaving breaths of air. 

For once during the entire night, you knew what was about to happen next, but even though you could feel anxiety threaten to grip your mind, you managed to shove it off. It was easier when you focused your attention on the man in your arms. His continued attention was nice, but you wanted, needed more. “Cooper, please…” you trailed off, hoping he got what you were asking for.

And you know he did, because you felt his lips curl into a smile against the skin of your neck, and he lifted his head up. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so care-free, and the sight had your heart swelling, a small gasp leaving you as well. He looked good like this, and a part of you craved to see it for days to come. 

“What was that, sweetheart? I didn’t quite hear what ya said.” For a moment, you retracted your previous stance, embarrassment making your ears burn. You either wanted to kiss or slap that shit-eating smirk off his face when he noticed how bashful you’d grown. “I’ll give ya whatever you want. All ya gotta do is ask.”

Your pride and embarrassment were at war with your desire, but a winner was quickly decided. “Please, I need you, Cooper.”

Apparently that wasn’t good enough, because he didn’t move. “You need me to…?” You groaned in frustration, and you tried to get him to just forget it with a roll of your hips, trying to make him break. It seemed to almost work, but you felt him press down firmly on your hips, pinning you to the bed. “That ain’t gonna help ya. Use your words.”

You sighed, finally relenting. “Fuck me, please,” you whispered out, and it finally seemed to do the trick.

“Atta girl,” he praised. “Go ‘head and roll over for me.”

As much as you wanted to be able to see him clearly, excitement had you turning over anyway, now on your hands and knees. The position was revealing and it almost felt degrading, but yet again you felt at ease, anticipation making your heart beat fast. Turning your head, you were able to see him a bit, and a moan slipped from your lips when you heard the sound of his belt being undone, the sound of a zipper following suit. This was really happening. 

One of his hands gripped your hips, and you felt his still clothed legs pressed up against the back of your own. His cock, warm and solid, pressed into your entrance, a low groan pulled from your lips when he breached it. It was only the tiniest bit painful, not as bad as you initially believed it would be, like a muscle being stretched, which was earlier overshadowed by the pleasure it brought. He let out a groan of his own, the fingers on your hips digging in harshly. 

Inch by inch, you felt him press himself fully into you, both of you letting out similar sighs when he was fully sheathed. Cold metal bit into your skin when his hips were flush with yours, the buckle of his belt no doubt going to leave imprints on your skin. He stilled once he was fully in you, giving you a chance to get adjusted to him, which you were grateful for. You could tell that it was taking every ounce of restraint in his body to just sit there, though, and it only took a few moments until you felt like you were ready for him to move. 

All it took was you wiggling your hips for him to get the message, something like a sigh of relief leaving his lips. Slowly, he pulled out of you, fingers never once letting go of their grip. The sensation made you moan, and you could feel him everywhere, hitting all the right spots as he pulled out.

You grasped at the barely-together bedsheets, probably creating new holes in the fabric. It was less uncomfortable when he pushed back a second time, and you felt your head go limp between your arms, his name falling from your lips. He started creating a rhythm, hips beginning to pick up the pace. His hips snapped into yours, slowly at first, but gradually picking up speed.

You could do nothing but take it, pleasure making you lose control of your body. Your cries were becoming increasingly louder, that familiar tension returning, and you tried to bury your face in the mattress. 

That was until you felt him grab a fistfull of your hair, yanking your head back up. It hurt, but it felt wonderful, and you felt yourself tense, a wanton moan louder than anything previous escaping you. “Fuck, ya like it rough?” His pace quickened, his cock spearing you relentlessly. It filled something in you that you didn’t quite know you needed, a craving satiated that you didn’t know you had. But now that you had it, you needed more of it. 

You nodded, at least as best you could, the grip in your hair keeping your head still. It took you too long to realize that he was using the leverage from his grip in your hair to pound into you. “D’ya know how fuckin’ incredible ya feel?” He panted. “This cunt was made for me. For me to ruin.” 

“Cooper,” you cried out, and he groaned in appreciation. 

“Fuck, that’s right. Who’s fuckin’ ya this good? Who’s ruinin’ ya for any other?”

You certainly weren’t expecting him to be this vocal, but you were far from complaining. His voice, which normally electrified you, was driving you insane, the tension building up tenfold. You tried to say his name again, but it came out incoherent. “Oh, sweetheart,” he cooed before laughing lightly. 

You were so close to your release again, and you could feel moisture run down your thighs, but you had little mind to be embarrassed now. “Cooper,” you were able to sigh out. “I’m… I’m close.”

His grip turned vice like, and you’re sure your neck would be hurting later because of the angle, but you didn’t care. “Let go. C’mon, lemme feel ya cum on my cock.” His words left no room for debate, so who were you to go against his orders? After a few more thrusts, you felt that tension snap again, pleasure once again washing over your body, making your arms turn to jelly. Panting, you collapsed on your arms, face squished against the mattress, the sound of slick skin on skin the only thing you could make out.

You didn’t stay down for long. Both hands wrapped around your front, pulling you flush against his body. He continued to thrust into you, and you felt another release begin to build, but it was too much. You made a sound of protest, something like you couldn’t come again, but he shushed you with kisses on your cheeks, which were damp with tears and sweat. “Just one more, sweetheart. You can do it.”

Nodding shakily, you felt his continue to fuck you, one arm wrapping around your stomach, the other holding right above your breasts. A startled noise left you when you felt his hand wrap around your throat, survival instinct kicking in immediately. With wide eyes, you twisted out of his grasp on your throat, panic evident on your face. 

He had let go as soon as he heard any sound of protest, but he still lingered close by. “You trust me?” He asked, somehow still able to form a coherent sentence. 

Your answer came immediately; you trusted him with your life. Why else would you travel the Wasteland with him? You nodded, a soft yes leaving you as you did. He pressed another grateful kiss to your cheek, a wordless thank you, and you felt his hand return to where it was. You still tensed when you felt his grip return, unable to turn off the instinct to be free of someone choking you, but you provided no further protest. 

Fingers squeezed against the sides of your neck, and like with your hair he used the leverage to snap his hips up into you. Even though it was harder, you were still able to breathe, your gasps and noises labored. Yet you still found yourself growing dizzy, the restricted blood flow making you so, which just heightened the pleasure you felt. 

Your third and final release of the night barreled into you, completely catching you both off guard. Your mind was so fuzzy; you couldn’t even get his name out. You were quickly snapped out of that haze when you heard him moan your name. Not sweetheart, not Vaultie, not any other nickname. Your name. 

He eased you to the bed, hand leaving your neck, and you let out a small whine when you felt him pull out of you. You felt empty, lacking, and even though you knew it would upset your overstimulated body you wanted him back in you. 

You had just rolled onto your back when you felt something hot splatter against your skin. You watched slack-jawed as he stroked himself to completion, his release painting your skin. The sight caused the flames of arousal to reignite, but you tried your best to snuff them out; you needed a moment. 

He sagged forward when he was done, arms once again bracing him from completely falling on top of you. Silence now filled the air, which was significantly warmer than it was a bit ago. It was you who moved first, grasping the side of his scarred face and pulling him in for a gentle kiss. It was short, but probably the most passionate of the night. 

When it broke, he sat up, getting up and off the bed and towards his belongings. You let out a noise of protest, and he just shot you a teasing look. “I’ll be back in a sec. We gotta get ya cleaned up,” he gestured to the remnants of him on your skin, and you watched as he fished out a canteen, before searching the area for something else. 

You decided to glance over your body as you waited for him to return. Your skin glistened with sweat, and you could see various marks littering your body; you didn’t want to know what your neck looked like, where he focused a lot of his attention.

The feeling of the bed shifting snapped you out of your examination, and you regarded the man who sat beside you with a soft look, and you were surprised when he returned it. It quickly turned into a scowl when you felt a damp cloth brush against your stomach and breasts, the cool water making you hiss. 

When he was done cleaning your skin, he handed you the canteen, and you took a few sips. You’d long since gotten used to the acrid taste of the Wasteland’s water, so it didn’t bother you, and you watched him finally kick off his boot. He was still fully dressed besides that, shirt sticking to his body.He set it beside the bed once you finished, before eying the bed that you were currently laying on.

“What?” You cringed at how raspy your voice sounded.

“Just dunno how I’m gonna fit.” In the back of your mind, you worried that he was going to push you away after all was said and done, so you were quite relieved to find the opposite happening. 

With a grin, you scooted back until your head rested against the thin pillow, before opening your arms to him. Shock crossed his features for a split second, before a grin of his own grew on his lips. He was still hesitant when he entered your embrace, but he relaxed almost immediately, especially when your hands ran soothingly up and down his back. When you pressed a kiss to the top of his head, he practically shuddered, his face nuzzling into your skin. You wondered how long it had been since someone showed him affection like this. 

You held him for a good while, your body calming down, and you thought over the events that had just transpired. Weirdly enough, you thought less about the things he had done and more of the words he said, especially right at the beginning. “Cooper?” You called out hesitantly, almost immediately regretting it. “Do… Can I call you that?”

He had raised his head when he heard his name being called, and you watched him debate it for a second. “Only in private. I’ve gotta reputation to uphold.” His response was gruff, but there was something warm in his eyes. 

It made you giddy, that he trusted you enough to call him by his true name, and you hoped you weren’t smiling like a fool. “Alright, Cooper. What did you mean when you said ‘finally’?”

He chuckled lightly, propping up a big so he could respond properly. “What, ya thought this was a spur of the moment decision?” He shook his head. “Sweetheart, I’ve wanted this for a while.”

You gaped at him, stunned. “You… you have?”

“How could I not? I mean, look at’cha,” his eyes trailed appreciatively over your still naked body. “But you’ve got a fire ‘bout ya. You ain’t afraid of this world, even though you damn well should be. You ain’t afraid of me, even though I’ve given ya plenty of reason to be. You’re a fighter, and I… I admire that ‘bout you. I-” He caught himself, like he said something he wasn't supposed to. “I’m too sober to be discussin’ my thoughts with ya. All ya gotta know is yes, I have.”

You were once again left stunned, so you let your action speak for you, pressing another kiss to his head, trying to ignore the way your heart soared. You felt him shift upwards, and he kissed your proper. It was another short yet passionate kiss, and when he broke away he rested his head against yours. 

“You wanna know somethin’, sweetheart?” His voice had dropped lower, and that familiar dark look was back in his eyes. So much for snuffing out the arousal you felt. He smirked when you nodded vehemently. “You wanna know the real reason why I always take first watch when we go to bed?” You felt his grasp one of your hands, loosely enough that you could pull it away if you wanted to, and he brought it between your bodies. You gasped when you felt the hard tent in his pants, having tucked himself away when he got up, but you knew it wasn’t going to stay like that for long. 

“It’s ‘cause you do this to me. You should hear me out there, moanin’ your name like I do, imaginin’ your hand wrapped ‘round my cock instead of mine.”

Your tiredness was completely forgotten, the pleasant ache in your muscles nothing more than a gentle distraction. “Can you show me?”

“Fuckin’ gladly, sweeheart.”

[rainyorca]

You're So Handsome When I'm All Over Your Mouth 𓇼 Reigen Arataka X Reader

Content warnings: F!reader, nsfw, cunnilingus, p n v, slight voyeurism, sick!reader, established relationship, smut.

Word count: 2,716

𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼

Reigen isn’t at all a careless lover. He’s very attentive, observant, and careful. Not once has he hurt you, on purpose at least. Sometimes the grip he has on your thighs is enough to bruise but of course he never truly means to do that. He gets excited fairly easily, years of abstinence makes it a bit hard for him to stay still. Especially when there’s such a lovely prize standing in front of him. 

You're half asleep, worn out from the sickness you had recently caught. It was a simple cold but eventually led into something that made you stay home from work and here you are, 6 pm on a Tuesday bedridden and just waking up from a short nap. You're sprawled out on the soft blankets of your bed, legs open slightly and arms slightly above your head. You're in your panties and one of Reigen’s t-shirts that you stole from his closet a few months ago. 

He’s standing at the end of the bed, staring at you with a flushed face as if he’s never seen you like this before. You rub your sleepy eyes, sitting up slightly to look at him. “Hey Reigen,” you mumble, your throat dry and voice raspy. You try to sit up but he stops you, getting on the bed and hovering above you slightly. He gently pushes your shoulder down and then feels your forehead with the back of his hand. “Do you feel hot? Is that why you’re laying on top of the blankets instead of under them?” He questions with a rather serious face. “Nooo,” you hum, “I just woke up.” 

“I can see that,” he backs up, standing back on the ground. “What’re you even doing here,” you say, it comes out more like a statement than a question. “Just came to see how you were feeling,” he responds, sitting at the edge of the bed, “and you told me to come by whether I felt like it, that’s why you gave me the spare key remember?” You nod slowly, trying to recall that conversation from months ago. You watch him loosen his tie and let it drape around his neck. For some reason you start to feel hot not just in your face but between your legs too. He takes off his jacket and then unbuttons his shirt just a little so you can see his collar bones. To distract yourself, you start asking about him so he could do his usual rambling. 

“How was your day?” You ask, watching his expression change a bit at your question. “It was good, there were a lot of evil spirits today. Mob and Serizawa did an excellent job today,” he responds, “as did I of course.” 

“I expect nothing less from the greatest psychic of the modern age,” you tease and he narrows his eyes at you. You know his little secret, you always have. You are incredibly hard to lie to after all. “Let’s not forget who’s bedridden and currently pantless in front of her boss,” he pinches the skin of your calf, “completely unprofessional.” 

“And yet my boss broke into my house, came into my room, which happens to be the place I change and sleep mind you, hence no pants, and watched me wake woke up,” you shoot back, “you wanna talk about unprofessional because I got a whole list of things that HR would deem as unprofessional.” 

He’s silent for a moment and then lets out a breathy chuckle. “Good to see you still have a sense of humor even when you're all gross and sick,” he says, patting your leg. “If I was gross you wouldn’t be looking at me like that,” you respond, letting your head fall back on your pillow. You can feel his eyes on you. His fingers trail up to your thigh, rubbing the soft flesh as he tries to make you feel better by his warm touches. “I’ll make you some tea,” he says, squeezing your thigh before getting up. 

You feel that pit in your stomach form, the feeling you always get upon your arousal. You close your legs, rubbing your thighs together as you try to get rid of the feeling. The image of him standing over you has been seared in your mind and you can’t get it out, it only adds to heat between your legs. You clamp your eyes shut, slowly trailing your hand down into your panties. You can hear him in the kitchen, humming a little tune as he brews your tea. 

A hiss escapes your lips when your fingers brush over your sensitive clit. You slowly rub circles, focusing on the mental image of your boyfriend. It’s risky, doing something like this with him here but you know he won’t mind it. You continue to run circles on your clit, picking up in pace until you can feel your panties are practically soaked. Soft moans fall off your lips as you try to force yourself to your release as quickly as possible. 

You keep this up for as long as you can, trying to get one out before he comes back but if you’re being honest, you want him to walk in on you. That’s when you hear rustling by the door. You open your eyes slightly to see if Reigen is standing there and to your enjoyment, he is. You stop for a moment but keep your hand in your panties. “Reigen,” you sigh, a little raspy. He has your tea in one hand and a bowl of grapes in the other. He must’ve known that you hadn’t eaten today. He has a slight pout on his face, it was more of a frown actually. Your eyes travel down to his pants where you can see a visible bulge and a small stain of precum seeping through his gray pants. 

“Reigen,” you repeat a bit more happily this time. “I leave you alone for a few minutes and this is what you spend your time doing,” he sighs, walking over and putting your tea and grapes down on the nightstand. “Sorry,” you apologize, sheepish. “I told you earlier today I would take care of you,” he says, slowly crawling into bed with you, “and you’re not letting me do that by doing this on your own.” 

You suddenly feel nervous, which was weird. Maybe it was because of the way he slowly moved down between your legs, his eyes never leaving yours. He kisses your thighs, his hands rubbing the sides of them and pushing them together. He scoots down a little further, laying on his stomach. He closes his eyes as he sucks small reddish-purple marks on your skin. He hovers about your cunt, opening his eyes to watch you. He moves your panties to the side, maintaining eye contact as he sticks his tongue out and presses it against your sensitive bud. You swear your brain just short circuited at the way he was looking at you but you kept your composure. He continues with his open mouth act, rolling his tongue around your clit but never closing his lips down on you. 

It’s the fact that he looks so servile while doing this. His eyebrows are arched and his eyes are lidded and innocent. He’s already making quiet noises that hit you deep in your soul. He finally closes his mouth around your clit, sucking and rolling his tongue over your sensitive bud. He still looks up at you with those innocent eyes. You throw your head back with a whine, not being able to handle looking at him or you’ll cum way sooner than you want to. 

He slides down to your entrance, sucking at you until he slips his tongue in. You let out a satisfied sigh, a lazy smile on your face as he eats you out like your the best dessert he’s ever had. Your hands find their way to his head, running through his dirty blonde hair to grab a handful. You're not a head pusher, you just like to keep your hands on a somewhat stable surface. You can feel the bed moving as he rubs himself against the blankets, the feeling causing his eyes to tear up. “Rei,” you whimper, feeling him move up to your clit again. His hands are on both your thighs, pushing them open for better access. You grind your hips against his face slightly, already feeling yourself teetering on the edge. 

He just looks so perfect down there, he’s focused and determined to make you feel better and it’s certainly working. Your hands fly up to grip your pillows when that coil in your stomach starts to unravel. Pleasure prickles down your spine and you dig your nails into the soft flesh of your pillows. He pushes two fingers into you, earning a little whine of surprise from you. It’s perfect, everything about this moment is perfect. He's moaning quietly into your cunt, making you vibrate in anticipation as you try to delay your own orgasm. 

Your back arches off the bed as your orgasm washes over you. He closes his eyes and focuses on really pulling it out of you. You whine his name like a prayer except it’s much sweeter and more beautiful to him. He puts his mouth back at your entrance to collect your release, pulling away from you slowly with his mouth open in a quiet pant. 

Your slick and release is all over his mouth and chin, he’s panting quietly but has a satisfied look in his eyes. “You’re so handsome when I’m all over your face,” you huff, taking in the sight. He smiles at you, wiping his mouth with his sleeve and sitting up. He’s still positioned between your legs and you can see the outline of his cock in his pants. He stares down at you, his shoulders rising and falling with every breath he takes. “Feeling any better?” He asks, leaning in so he can press his forehead against yours, “need a drink really quick?” 

You reach behind him and push on his ass so his hips meet yours. He lets out a little noise of surprise before laughing a bit. “Okay, okay,” he hums, sitting back again and fiddling with his belt, “yes ma’am.” You lay your head back on your pillow at that simple word that just makes you want him even more. He finally undoes his belt and drops it on the floor, pulling his pants down just enough so he had some room. “Where do you want me?” He asks, brushing his hair back with his hand. You love how messy his hair looks like that, and seeing his face without the bangs makes you really realize just how pretty he is. “Everywhere, all at once,” you respond jokingly. “I wish I could,” he sighs, leaning down and pressing his cock against your folds. 

He rubs against you a bit to get himself prepped and then he gets back on his knees again and grabs your hips. He lifts your lower half off the bed, your upper back still on the bed. You let your arms fall limp above your head as he holds you at kinda an upside down angle, but your head is still resting you on pillows. He uses a free hand to press his cock into you, sliding into your entrance with ease. A noise of satisfaction from you echoes in his ears and he holds you there for a few seconds before slowly pulling out and then pushing back in. 

Not even a few minutes in and he’s already a mess, he’s practically drooling at this point. The only sounds that fill the air of your room are skin against skin and a mixture of his louder, whiny moans and your quieter ones. He’s always been a little more vocal than you. His thrusts are at a decent pace, not too slow or too fast. It’s a bit hard for you to breathe since your nose is stuffy so you keep your mouth open. “You feel so good—-haah,” he groans, “so so good.” You reach down to rub your fingers over your clit, matching your pace with his thrusts. “I love it when you do that,” he slurs out, digging his nails into your hips. He picks up his pace a little, closing his eyes and furrowing his brows as he focuses on getting a decent quick pace. He swallows, trying to keep himself from getting sloppy. 

You clench down on him like a vice, causing him to let out a little strangled moan. He’s gentle with you, because he knows your body is probably already aching. This is why he’s such a good lover, his attention to details, to everything. The sting from his nails in your skin contributes to your overall pleasure though and he knows that. He knows what you like and how you like it. The specific words he says and how he says them. You’re most sensitive parts of your body, he knew everything really. He only learned this much about you because of all his times watching you while you pleasured yourself. He was the one with the idea and you’ll  never regret telling him yes because now he knows you so well especially only after a few months of dating. 

He ignores the ache in his legs from being in this position too long and instead focuses on your face. “You’re so pretty—-fuckk,” he whines when he feels you clench around him again. “Reigen,” you whimper his name, moving your fingers against your clit with more vigor. “I’m gonna cum,” you huff, clenching your free hand around your pillow. “Me too,” he breathes, sounding more fucked out than you. His over sensitivity always gets the best of him. “Wanna fill you up so bad,” he grunts, letting his head fall a little. He usually likes cumming on your stomach, seeing how pretty your skin looks with his release sticking to it. Today he’s definitely gonna have a hard time pulling out. “Fuck I’m gonna cum inside you,” he groans out, sounding more apologetic. 

Your body tightens as your release starts to approach, you continue your efforts on your clit, just a little more sloppy now. He’s first to cum, his body tenses up and shakes as he reaches his climax. He lets out the most beautiful sound you’ve heard from him in a while. It was like a sob mixed with a moan, whiney and a little long. He throws his head back, eyes rolling back as he continues to fuck you through his orgasm. During that time you hit your release, letting it wash over you. Your toes curl and your back arches even more off the bed. You just wanna pull him in and kiss him but he’s still holding onto you tightly. He thrusts a few more times into you before holding himself inside you. He stays there for just a few moments, catching his breath before pulling out with a sigh. He drops your hips, letting you rest comfortably on the bed now. 

He leans down, putting his hands on either side of you. You can feel his sweat dripping into your skin. He slowly lays down letting his head rest on your upper stomach while the rest of his body is slotted between your legs. “I don’t know if that’ll necessarily make me feel better,” you sigh, finally being able to breathe, “but at least I got what I wanted after being alone all day.” You lift a hand to run your fingers through his hair, carefully feeling the dirty blonde strands. “Reigen,” you say, raising a brow. You can feel his chest rise and fall slowly on your stomach. “Reigen?” You question again, lifting your head to see if he was watching you. 

You let out a sigh when you realize he’s fast asleep. His eyes shut softly and his lips parted as he took in shallow breaths. “Aren’t I supposed to fall asleep on you,” you mumble to yourself, “I’m the sick one after all.” You brush some strands of  hair out of his face and even though you're slightly irritated, his sleeping state makes you smile.

𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼

[fakescenariosbeforesleepblog]

Do you know who his wife is?

Vladimir Makarov × Fem wife reader + family

You and Vladimir have been trying to give them the most normal life possible but it's difficult to not see what you and him are, you weren't expecting your Three babies learning and taking all this knowledge to practice in their own world.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Warning ⚠️: Credits of this images goes to whoever they belong to! Grammatical and spelling errors, mentions of violence, weapons, blood.

Credits of this image goes to ElijahCielle

You have a very unusual family, you're the daughter of the Russian Mafia married to the most dangerous man in the country, you have three beautiful children.

Elizaveta/ Liza (10 years old) and your twins, Lev and Yerik (15 years old). Vladimir Makarov was a proud father, his little princess was more like a little wolf and his sons, the young boys who would inherit all he had, Makarov was more than proud.

The Three kids have seen unusual things in their little family. They have seen their grandparents making business, using weapons, they have seen their father making plans, organizing people, they also have seen you in charge of eliminating enemies of your husband and parents.

Of course, you and Vladimir have been trying to give them the most normal life possible but it's difficult to not see what you and him are, you weren't expecting your Three babies learning and taking all this knowledge to practice in their own world.

It's Another normal Friday, you're cleaning your hands, meanwhile the man in front of you is bleeding and pleading for his life.

«Please, please I will pay every cent of my debt with your parents, please»

- Oh you will, don't worry darling, you will pay but we will also close our business with you losing your ability to breath.

«NO! NO PLEASE! I BEG YOU, PLEASE!»

He's begging but then, your phone rings over and over, you check quickly, your kid's school.

- Someone helps me to keep this guy quiet! I have to attend this call!

And as quickly as you ask for help, one of your men takes your place and puts a sock in the mouth of your victim.

- Thanks, Hello?

«Hello? I'm looking for Y/N. We're calling because we have a little problem with her kids»

- Oh, yes it's me, are they alright?

«Yes, they're fine, it's a discipline problem, we were expecting you to come to talk with the principal and their teachers so we can discuss and fix this little problem»

You sighed and responded with a quick 'yes', you went back to finish your job and a few hours later, you're at school, wondering what they did, remembering all those times you and your husband told them to not do anything wrong.

Once you're inside walking through the corridors, you finally find your three kids.

- What we have here? What trouble you're into, huh?

Liza jumps on you kissing your cheek, while your other two are in the most chill mood, as if nothing was wrong. You were expecting something really bad as a broken bones or someone in the hospital.

Suddenly a teacher appears in the door. All of you stand and go inside the office, the teachers and the principal are waiting for you to talk, they sent the kids to wait outside.

- Well, what's wrong?, their father is not available to come but I'm here and I'll discuss all this with him later...

«first of all, we have to say, the three of them are brilliant» «very smart kids» «too smart for their own good»

- Okay, so what's the problem? Did they hurt somebody? I will pay the hospital bill if it's necessary.

All the group exchange looks between them, how do you have all these expectations of your children?. One of them breaks the silence and continues talking.

«no, no, the problem is... Okay, Liza is a nice girl, but she indeed has some trouble with other classmates, she hit a boy today because he was making comments about her, she hit the boy over and over and this is not the first time she has a fight»

You wanted to act horrified but you couldn't be more proud, you remembered her playing with her father, he showed him to fight, defend herself, you're happy she learned well and fast.

- Oh, that's terrible, is the kid alright? Liza has an explosive temperament, we already talk about it with her.

«Yes, he will not be at school until next Wednesday...»

' that's what he deserved ' you thought.

«...on the other hand, Lev and Yerik. They have a different story. They have a little trafficking line of candies, cigarettes and exam answers, this is too serious, they have students working for them, receiving small commissions for every sale they do...»

More proud and you would explode, it was a nice feeling, to know your kids are smart, strong and... Wait, no, it suppose you have to act concerned and worried.

«We're worried about how much influence they have over the students» «your children are leaders by nature and that's good, but we're really worried about it, they feel free to break and make their own rules, this causes us a lot of trouble...» «We just ask for some discipline, they have to understand there are rules and a system they have to follow...»

You keep discussing any solution, at the end you inform them that you and your husband will consider a new school where your children can explode these abilities, since, in your opinion, they're not doing nothing wrong, so for the next school year they will be in a new college.

On the way back home, you talk with your kids about what happened and how proud you were about them and some advice to be more discreet. A quick stop in the supermarket, everybody adding and adding more and more stuff to the cart, you're not paying much attention, you're on the phone when you sense something is wrong. You start to look around, noticing the place is almost empty, there's some workers but the people in general are more men than women, also many of them are big and muscular, suddenly your mother instinct tells you this is something you have to be worried about.

You walk quickly to pay for all the groceries, your children are behind you talking about teenagers stuff, your daughter suddenly holds your hand and squeezes it, talking almost in a whisper.

- Mom, there's a man with a skull mask outside.

You nod in silence, caressing her hair to indicate everything's under control. You take your phone and text your husband «dinner will not be ready on time».

You ask your two boys to carry the bags, while you and your daughter walk to open the car they're putting everything inside when a man approaches, your boys walk at your side, you're not scared, just worried because you're not alone, is your family with you and you have to protect them at any cost.

- Guys, get in the car.

- But mom...

Your twins say with one voice while your daughter instantly obeys.

- Get in the fuckin' car right now.

Once the three are inside you can see the other two men walking to you.

- Can I help you, gentlemen?

The one with a mask seems stronger than the rest of them, so you think you have to start with him, you can't see his face but something in your eyes says he's making his own analysis of the situation.

- We're looking for Vladimir Makarov, someone gave us some clues about him and now we're here. what connection do you have with him?

You sigh loudly, thank god is not another enemy of your family or your husband would get crazy again, this time he will have to give you a huge present to win your pardon.

- Who's your informant? Someone not so smart I suppose.

- Answer the question.

- Fine... Makarov is my husband.

These strangers are quiet as a grave, they all look surprised and exchange quick looks between them. One of them talks before anyone else.

- Do you know who your husband is?

This question paints a big smile on your face, of course you know who your husband is and you couldn't be more proud of him.

- I do. But...

In less than a second you hit the first man with a quick kick to the chest, he collides against another car not so far from yours.

- Do you know who his wife is?

More men appear out of nowhere as cockroaches, everybody starts to run to attack you.

One receives a knee strike, another a liver shot, back leg sweep, nose strike and more. You're a woman who can handle body to body combat really well but is exhausting to do it alone.

As if your kids could read your mind or feel your exhaustion, the door of your car opens, your pretty Liza flings the gun you have saved in the car glove box you catches it and instantly starts to shoot.

While Lev appears behind you knocking down another man, Yerik starts the car, some more shoots to create distraction and now everybody's inside the car.

- Yerik, drive as fast as possible, Liza, put your belt and tell your dad we'll see him at the safe house. Lev, take the gun under the passenger seat, today you will show me how good you are shooting.

Once again, with one voice your Three children simply answer with a loud «Yes, mom». A police chase, what a moment to spend some familiar time.

You feel very blessed to have a husband who always has a plan and is always prepared for any scenario, your car is very well armored, the tires, the glasses, every centimeter of your car is safe and hard to batter down.

Yerik is a good driver he loves the speed, so for him this is an easy task, Liza has an amazing sense of direction, she knows her city as the palm of her hand so she indicates her brother where to go, giving advice about the streets that will be more empty and shortcuts, meanwhile you and Lev are at each side of the car, shooting to the cars that are following you, Lev is smart and fast, he made one of the cars crash by shooting directly to the front tires, both are celebrating when a bullet passes close enough to your arm and hurts you.

- Ahhh, fuckin' bastards!

The three lose their focus to look at your wound.

- Focus guys! Don't look at me, I'm fine, we're close to the Forest, Yerik be careful now.

-Wait... Are we going to...?

- Yes, we can't let them follow us to the safe house! Liza, honey be ready, we'll have to jump from the car. Lev, stop shooting, get ready...

Before you can finish the sentence a helicopter appears flying over your car, shooting to the rest of enemies that are behind you. Of course it is your husband, He wouldn't miss a good chase and he wouldn't leave his family without protection.

Yerik is still driving but unsure of what to do, jump or not jump?, your phone rings, Liza answers and it's your husband's voice.

- Keep driving, there's a barricade and some men are ready to attack the rest of them, you'll have 3 minutes to leave the car and board the helicopter, we can't land so you'll have to jump and climb the ropes, alright?

- I'll have your head as soon as we're in that god-damned helicopter, Vlad!

- I love you too my love.

He laughs mockingly and the call ends, after some minutes driving, you finally see the barricade and your husband's men. It's quick, you don't even know how you arrive at the helicopter, perhaps you were too focused on not letting someone hurt your kids, they're safe now.

As soon as you're safe at home, everybody acts like nothing happened, you went directly to the kitchen to see what you can cook since all your groceries stayed In the car, your kids went to their rooms to do homework and prepare everything for the next day, while your husband went to his office to make some calls.

At dinner, everybody looks tired, eating in silence until you receive a call from one of your men.

«What did you find out? (...) Was him? How do you know? (...) That fuckin' rat... Okay, you know what? Burn everything (...) YES!, I don't want nothing but the ashes of his properties, and I don't want survivors alright? No Mercy, he thought he could play with me and put my family at risk, no? Now make them pay the consequences (...) Fine, I'll go as soon as I can, before burning those places, take their money (...) Uhhh no, Vlad will stay with the kids, see you.»

You continue eating while your whole family has their eyes on you, it's your husband who finally breaks the silence.

- So, What did they find?

He says without any emotion, focused on his meal, your drinking your cup of wine and just like him, as if what you found out wasn't so important talk.

- The guy I told you I would... (You paused, trying to find a different word to not say you killed someone) Visit. He was working with an army special force, they offered him protection in exchange for information about us.

- I never liked that guy he was always in those twisted business, I suppose you already punished him.

- I did, but I still have something to do, you will have to stay tonight with the kids, I don't know how much time it will take us to clean it all.

He smiles and blinks an eye to your kids who are ready looking at him with big smiles. They already know what that means, no school the next day, waking up late with the smell of a sweet special breakfast made by their father, a day full of rewards and time in family, because after all, your children are the most important thing for Makarov, he can be a cold man outside and ruling and controlling as much as he wants, but at home he's totally the opposite, he's a cool dad.

Before you leave, he kisses you deeply and with that you know your kids will not be the only ones who will receive a reward for what they did today.

Makarov will fill you with an expensive present, and some other things that only you and him can enjoy in private.

- Don't take too long, or you won't have your present.

You smile at him while his arms are around your waist, kissing him again, with your hands around his neck you nod and whisper a sweet and soft «Okay, love».

- You did a great job today, my love.

- I know, but it wasn't only my job, your children played their part very well too. I think Liza is ready to receive her present.

- I think that too, I received my first gun at her age, and after what happened today... it's fair.

- Good, I gotta go, but wait for me, we will give it to her together, I wanna see her face!

Both kiss again and you leave to finish your job. Many people would say you and Vladimir are crazy and irresponsible for having a family even knowing you two have this dangerous life.

«Breaking news! Yesterday, a police chase took place at the city center supermarket, the suspect's identity is still unknown, the persecution ended close to the Forest, 45 bodies were found. Meanwhile, Last night a series of fires started around the town, Police station wonders if both events are related»

But you and him knew the risks, y'all know very well you would be alright, you and him are a powerful couple and with today's drama, you show how well prepared both are and how far you will go if someone dares to touch your family.

[zoros-sake-bottles]

What you’d argue with them over ! Pt.1 (Zoro, Sanji & Law)

Zoro

-Your arguing about him not taking care of his body

Zoro is willing to stretch his body to any length in order to defeat his opponent, he will break all his bones and loose half of his blood-he doesn’t care at all

He cannot and will not lose before he fights Mi-hawk and steals the title of greatest swordsman

You understand….BUT YOU CANNOT STAND IT

After every battle your left pale at the sight of Zoro, mortified at how he lays on his back in a sweat, bleeding and breathing so heavily 

By the time Chopper gets to him he’s barely conscious and each time you fear the worst. But of course since this is Zoro he pops right back up after a couple hours rest and instantly tries to train

“Lay down” you say your eyes meeting his

He sits up against your wishes and tries to stretch resulting in a spurt of blood from his abdomen

"moron" you mumble forcing him down

Its silent between the two of you as the topic of the afternoon hangs over you both

Your glaring at your boyfriend and he can feel it, so he turns his head away from you

He knows that your arms are crossed and your jaw is clenched

He knows your livid and he also knows why but no matter how intimidating your stance is he won't back down

"Oi, stop looking at me like that-"

"Shut the hell up" you say, your voice sharp and pointy like the edge of a knife

Zoro turns his head as he's about to give you a piece of his mind 

"I don't want to hear it, I'm done. You don't care then I won't care" 

"Go out and die then, selfish prick" you spat

Zoro huffs in disbelief, you've never gotten this callous with him before and he can't believe it 

"If I die that means I failed my goal and didn't deserve the title I was going after, I'm going to push myself beyond my limits whether you like it or not y/n!"

You get up and walk out of the room

You seemed so calm but underneath you were just seething

Zoro had basically just told you that your opinion meant nothing to him and that if he died then he just died

Did he ever really think about you? Did he think about how his death would affect you? How it would affect the crew? 

You bet Mi-hawk recuperates, you knew for a fact that he wasn't dumb and reckless like your boyfriend was

By the way Zoro was doing things, he was going to die from over exhaustion, rather than an actual fight

You cared so much and you hated it

Often there were times when you wanted to tell him "No, you can't go yet" "Zoro your wounds are still healing" "Don't lift weights the stitches will come loose" 

But you never said anything because you knew he would ignore you, telling you to stop nagging and that you were over exaggerating

You were sick and tired of it, so now you were going to let him be 

 Sanji

-Your arguing about him being sweet to other women

Arguments are rare things , that's how good the two of you get along

You’ve always been that solid couple that remembers everything: dates, anniversaries, birthdays-etc.etc.

So for the two of you to have a disagreement it kind of freaked you out

Your fights were always centered around two things: Sanji’s hyper attentiveness to other women's needs and you putting yourself in danger for the safety of others

Today it was the hyper attentiveness

You just couldn’t understand it sometimes, why he went out of his way to do things for girls who clearly had no intention of making nice with him

He would be any woman's doormat! It drove you insane!

You were all for the “respect and never hurt a woman” attitude but the things he allowed-it was a cross of boundaries ! 

Not to mention he was totally oblivious to when women were subtly flirting with him, every time he got bumped against, groped & touched- he just smiled politely

You were a calm and rational person but unfortunately someone got a fist to the face today

You had stormed away, with him apologizing to your victim and chasing after you in your wake

He tried to stop you and talk but you ended up blowing up on him

"Darling-please-" he tried to reach out for your arm

"Don't Sanji! Don't even-I can't do this right now!" you yank away from him

Still he follows behind you like he almost always does

"I can't believe you let that woman touch your chest!" 

"Ma cheri she simply fell into me-”

“What did she trip on Sanji?! The air!?

Sanji loves you more than anything so he didn’t shout not once but you could hear it in his voice that he didn’t agree with the way you handled things

It was no point in talking if he wasn’t going to understand so you left him there and didn’t talk to him much after that

Law

-Your arguing about him not communicating with you properly

This man is a loner

Even with a complete crew, he’s still a loner

You can’t even fathom how your relationship had gotten this far

There's so much he doesn’t tell you, even the small things everyone should know “oh I'm allergic to….  I don’t like when you….  I changed the ….” NOTHING HE TELLS YOU NOTHING

He often does this thing where he underestimates you 

Law operates on his own, he goes by what he thinks is best

You could talk up a whole plan for battle and research ! He would tell you “okay” but when it comes to the day of acting out the plan he’s changed EVERYTHING about it and hasn’t spoken a WORD to you

“Law, are you dead serious?! Wha-I-I looked like an idiot out there! Why didn’t you say anything sooner?!” you stressed running your hands through your hair

“Y/n- ya it wasn’t that much of a change I simply-”

“I was telling everyone the wrong information! I cost us time and-and-”

“It was fine, I'm telling you, your overthinking it…Bepo and Penguin took over and in the end everything was ok, we didn’t draw much attention either” he stood in the door of your shared room with his arms crossed

He clearly didn’t understand why you were so upset, he didn’t understand the magnitude of the issue for you

“Law, look at me…” you glared at your boyfriend

“I WANTED to help, I WANTED them to trust and follow my lead as a fellow member of this crew! Today all I showed them was that i am a clueless buffoon who just so happens to date their captain” your fist balled up

“Nobody thinks that” he raised an eyebrow, dismissing your thoughts and feelings

You were a steaming pot and just like that you were over boiling

“Will you stop treating me like I'm some blasted kid?! I'm 24, for goodness sakes Law are you even listening to me when I talk?!” you shouted but it seemed to have no affect on him

Law stayed silent in the corner and he didn’t move a muscle

You felt like you were talking to a wall

Your eyes glossed over and you stood up and pushed past him, tired of being dismissed and handled like you were incapable 

https://www.tumblr.com/zoros-sake-bottles/730292614007603200/what-youd-argue-with-them-over-pt2-zoro-sanji?source=share

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[7:33 pm]

(cw: reader is pregnant, mentions of throwing up, mood swings, “asshole”)

Everyday was getting more and more exhausting the closer you got to your due date. Your feet hurt, your back ached, the cravings drove you crazy, and the mood swings were hard to deal with. Starting the day off earlier than you would have liked certainly didn’t help since you couldn’t get back to sleep with the little limbs moving like it was the middle of the day and not 6 in the morning.

It was like any little thing was close to ending you into a rage. Remembering you had to drink decaf when you were so tired just annoyed you, there was nothing good playing on tv, your leftovers for lunch didn’t heat up well, and no position you sat in eased the aching you felt in your bones which was not helped by constantly getting up to pee. On top of all of this it was just so warm in the apartment, so humid and gross feeling- overall just not a great day.

And poor Haechan, if you were in a better mood you might be able to appreciate him more, but not today. You were annoyed when he strolled into the kitchen with his usually endearing bed head at 10, clearly having been able to comfortably sleep in. The scent of his coffee wafted through the whole house making your mouth water, watching his YouTube and laughing, and he was able to walk around and lift things to finish setting up the nursery. Yesterday you had been happy to receive your usual forehead kiss and watch him work on getting the nursery finished up, but today was not the day. You could feel your anger building up more and more the next thing to annoy you was probably going to send you over the edge.

You were laid on the couch borderline glaring at a commercial when a sweaty smelling Haechan waltzed in and sat at the very end of the couch. He reached for you and pushed your feet slightly to the side to reach over and rub your stomach. Unfortunately, the baby decided to move as much as they could causing an aching pain in your lower back and a sudden shortness of breath. You could feel your throat tighten and your breathing got heavier and faster. You felt a pressure at the back of your eyes right before you started cry.

Haechan’s eyes widened, “My love, what’s wrong?”

You sat up, wiping away the endless stream of tears while you managed to get out, “Why are you touching me? It’s so hot and you made the baby move and now my back hurts even more. I was just getting comfy and you ruined it.”

“I’m so sorry my love,” he replied tentatively, easing himself down from the couch to crouch in front of you.

“You just smell so bad, I want to throw up, and my lunch wasn’t good, and they must hate me because everything on tv is just so bad today. Today is the worst day of my life,” you sobbed. Haechan bit back a laugh which only made you sob harder, “Don’t laugh at me, you did this to me.”

“I know my love, I am so sorry. Look, I’ll close all the windows and turn down the air so it’s nice and cool for you. I’ll order your favorite for dinner, does that sound good?” Haechan asked gently, slightly scared that he might add fuel to the fire.

You shook your head, “I want Thai tonight.”

Haechan smiled, “I’ll order that before I hop in the shower, do you need anything else?”

“Besides your kid out of my body? Can you get me more juice please, with 5 ice cubes only?” You asked sweetly, no longer crying.

“Of course my love, 5 ice cubes got it,” Haechan nodded. He closed all the windows and the blinds before he disappeared out of your sight, you heard the air conditioning kick on and then the ice falling into the glass.

He came back and set the glass of juice on the table beside the couch, turning back in the direction of your bedroom immediately after. You could feel your negative emotions just melt away. A few minutes later Haechan joined you back in the living room on the adjacent couch. You reached for his hand, “I’m sorry, baby.”

“You don’t have to apologize my love, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t think to touch you without your permission,” Haechan replied.

“No, usually it’s ok but the baby has been a real pain in everything today. I woke up early and couldn’t fall back asleep and the baby has been awake and too active all day,” you sighed.

Haechan leaned down to get eye-level with your stomach, “Hey stink, you better stop being a pain.”

Later as you ate your food, happy and finally at complete ease, you looked at Haechan seriously, “I love you, but I’m not getting pregnant again anytime soon.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear that because I’m not getting you pregnant anytime soon. I’ve had enough morning sickness and midnight cravings runs to last me a few years. God, and painting that nursery 3 slightly different shades of white was a total pain,” Haechan groaned running a hand down his face.

“Oh, you’ve had enough of all that have you? Imagine experiencing it first hand asshole. You don’t get to complain about those things like I do, you’re not growing your own hyperactive offspring,” you huffed.

Haechan froze, expecting another rage induced breakdown, switching on his soft and understanding voice at the blink of an eye, “You’re so right my love, I’m sorry.”

You rolled your eyes, “that’s what I thought.”

-

a/n: hello if you’ve read this far do you prefer my writing with or without the read more? I just forgive it might be nicer as someone perusing the tags to not have to scroll a bunch past a single work, thank you!!!

[joeyalohadream]

I was rereading the cooler fic last night (for the 1000th time) and i was wondering if there was a line or a few lines u could share from part 2 and how its coming along! (No intention to put pressure or anything at all) I adore ur writing 🩷🩷🩷🩷

Hi, anon!

Endlessly flattered that you've re-read it so many times!

Small WIP update: I threw out my back at work yesterday and am laid up for a few days. I'm feeling motivated and hoping to use the fact that I can't move much as an opportunity to write a lot!

But here's a small snippet from Part Two to wet your whistle while you wait for me to finish:

“What is it?” He watches as Gale picks at the cuticles around his thumbnail. It strikes him suddenly that the grime under Gale’s nails has been there for a while. It was there when he’d held those trembling fingers in his own the night before, which means it had probably been there since he’d been in isolation. Gale, who has been meticulous about cleanliness, about order and neatness since the moment he met him, is looking down at his dirty hands and he’s not bothered by them. The subtle changes Bucky has been noticing in his demeanor over the last twenty-four hours are starting to pile up.  He’d poked fun at Gale about his almost obsessive need to be hygienic a few months into their confinement. In one of his darker moments, it had made him angry watching Gale act as if such an unimportant thing mattered when they were suspended in such a meaningless state of inactivity. It hurts to remember the way Gale had shrugged off his harsh admonishment of this aspect of his character, not pushing back, just accepting the new normalcy of Bucky being subtly cruel. Right now, he wishes he could go back in time to their moment in the washroom and scrub the dirt from under each of Gale’s fingernails. Wishes he could help give him back something that seems to have been stolen from him in the recent weeks. He takes advantage of their solitude and reaches over the table to grasp Gale’s cold fingers, halting the abuse he had been dolling out on his delicate skin. “Talk to me, Buck. Something’s bothering you.” Red-rimmed blue eyes meet his and a small smirk plays over his lips. “A lots bothering me today, Bucky.” He gives the fingers in his a slight squeeze and the man they belong to a small smile. Between the cold and the hunger and the pain and the sickness, he knows that. But he also knows that there is something else, something maybe he could fix faster than those other ailments. “It’s stupid.” Gale sighs and shakes his head. “Let me be the judge of that.” “It’s selfish,” Gale shifts his gaze to their hands and hunches down in his chair. Bucky frowns at the top of his head. “You don’t have a selfish bone in your body, Buck.” Bucky wishes he did sometimes, because maybe then Gale wouldn’t feel the need to sacrifice his well-being so often. Gale stays silent but Bucky can see his jaw working, knows he’s contemplating his words and deciding whether or not he’s going to share them. “Please,” he leans over the table at the same time he pulls on Gale’s hand, lets his lips brush the cold skin over his knuckles. He smiles again, keeping his face open when those beautiful eyes rise to meet his again. “Before I went in,” Gale starts, voice low, pained. “You weren’t doing well.” Bucky winces internally at the understatement but stays silent, willing Gale to continue. “I tried to give you space and keep you close at the same time. But the only times I felt like you were really with me were when we were in our bunk. And some nights not even then.” Guilt is a vice around Bucky’s heart at the hurt in Gale’s voice. “You wouldn’t talk to the guys or help out or even get outta bed somedays.” Gale pauses, takes a shuddering breath that turns into a harsh cough that he turns into his own shoulder. Bucky looks on, helpless and feeling raw. It takes a minute for Gale to gain his composure and catch his breath enough to continue. “But now, you’re like the old you,” Gale clears his throat and looks back down at the table. “The way the guys were talking to you last night and this morning, I can tell you’ve been like that for a while now.” Bucky thinks back to the slow crawl he made through the metaphorical muck in his mind to get back to himself, to be what the men needed, to be what Gale would need when he finally came back to him. “It’s like I went away, and you got better,” Gale practically grinds the words out, voice whisper soft and Bucky’s heart breaks.

[maxwellatoms]

Would you trust ANY Korean studio for hand-drawn animation today? I ask because, when The Powerpuff Girls came back in 2016, I noticed how slow and stiff the Korean animation was. Since then, most Burbank cartoons animated in Korea, namely Cartoon Network shows, have been like that — mostly on 2s & with less inbetweening. Look at any Digital eMation episode of Victor and Valentino or Samurai Jack Season 5; do they animate as loosely and smoothly as Digital eMation episodes of Billy & Mandy do?

Sure I would. It would all depend on the studio and the circumstances. There are good studios and bad studios, and either of those will treat your show differently based on their perception of how valuable it is to their client. In the early 2000s Rough Draft was a top-notch studio. One of the reasons I switched over to eMation from Rough Draft was that I felt like Rough Draft was putting all of its resources into making Samurai Jack look beautiful, and we were still calling retakes on three year old issues. I knew we weren't a priority to Rough Draft, and I knew that stemmed from Cartoon Network's negotiations with them, so my griping was only going to get us so far. It seemed to me that I needed a studio that was smaller and scrappier like we were. We were putting in a lot of work on our end to make cool stuff and it wasn't ending up on the screen, so we needed people who were just as hungry on the back-end, and eMation stepped up.

There's also the fact, though, that animation itself has changed a lot in the last fifteen years. Powerpuff Girls and Samurai Jack's animation always seemed to have an air of "motion comics" to it. And frankly, that's part of what I love about it. It was all a throwback to the old UPA cartoons, which were built on strong, clear poses and made for the cost equivalent of a turkey dinner. Likewise, CN storyboard artists usually had around four weeks to write and draw their boards on paper, so there just wasn't time to take the effort to do anything too complex. It was all about snapping between those 300-ish storyboard drawings and momentarily savoring them for their humor and design mastery. Now we have tons of digital tools that make the basics of animation a lot more accessible to everyone, and have changed the entire studio pipeline. Things just won't look like they used to because nobody makes them that way anymore.

When I've had to choose an overseas animation studio, the network's production arm usually gives me one or three choices and tells me that's all there is. Deals have already been made. (Sometimes they make you pick two to save on costs, which (IMO) usually results in two studios that are less functional than any one of them would have been.) The studios usually have reels, so that gives you a basic idea of what they can do. You can (hopefully) find some other show creators who have worked with the studios and get an honest review. It's an important enough decision that it's worth whatever research you can put into it. Even over good bones, an ill-fitting skin can ruin the mood.

The most important thing to remember, I think, is that it's your job and your crew's job to make animating the show as easy as possible. Really, it's everyone's job to make the next person in line's job as simple as they can. Ideally, there shouldn't be a lot of questions because the materials you sent down the chain are clear.

So... yeah. I'd still trust Korean studios as much as I'd trust any overseas or domestic animation studio. You get out of them what you put into them by feeding them money and your own labor. It's quite possible that the shows you mentioned didn't do enough of either.

I imagine the overseas studios are hurting right now, so who knows what that landscape is even going to look like in a few years.

As with every step of the process making a TV show, you just sort of have to weigh your options and find the path.

Hmm. That got long.

[coquettluvr]

xiao : makeout session ♡

"xiao!!! can you come over to my house? it's a cold day today and i thought of baking some cookies for us ♡"

- 4:05 pm

"oh sure why not, my love i'll head straight to your house. should i buy some snacks on the way?"

- 4:06 pm

"sureee, i will be waiting for you ♡"

- 4:06 pm

💌

i sat on the couch while scrolling through our old messages and letting out a soft smile while thinking about us

it's almost been a year of mine and xiao's togetherness...oh how the time passes.

i gaze out of my window and see the ample clouds flowing in the sky, and the maple leaves falling off their hazel trees

i loved autumn 🍂

i see the maple leaf falling down slowly but, it doesn't touch the ground that had witnessed rain just before.

rather, it falls on the hands of a fairly beautiful young man.

the love of my life

xiao

i rush downstairs to my open the door and see xiao standing in front of me

"he looks so pretty today" I think to myself as i go to hug him

we both smiled at eachother and xiao pulled out the bouquet he brought for me

"i brought these roses for you because you love them, and i am in love with you"

"oh.my.God. Xiao, i love you so much" i say this while controlling my uncontrollable smile

"ofcourse sweetheart" he says while letting out an eye smile

"oh how i loved his eyes so much"

"soooo, should i come in my dear or do you want me to stand here the whole day?"

he says and i let out a chuckle

xiao pov :

"oh how i loved her smile so much"

💌

i hold xiao's hands and take him to my room.

i noticed that his clothes were a little bit wet because of the slight autumn rainfall.

i remember xiao giving me one of his hoodies, i allow him to change into it for him to get more comfortable.

"love, im back, let's go bake the cookies now shall we?" xiao said with a promising smile on his face

he holds your hands and you both go downstairs to the kitchen together

you look for the ingredients but somehow couldn't find the crucial thing. it frustrates you a little.

"oh my God I can't find the flour"

Xiao hears your frustration

he stands behind you and puts his left arm on your waist

and holds your wrists with his right hands

as his hands intertwined with your hands, he slides it towards the box of the flour

"there it is, my cutie"

you blushed shyly

xiao takes out the milk from the refrigerator and you both initiate the process of baking the cookies together. and now it's finally time to put them in the oven!

"don't burn your hands xiao"

"with you by my side, i'll make sure not to ever hurt myself because i want to spend my every moment with you"

you were utterly speechless at this moment whilst maintaining an intense eye contact between you and xiao's beautiful amber eyes

you feel your self being pulled closer to his chest and your lips begging to feel his lips

"xiao i-"

"shh"

he cups your right cheek and rubs his thumb softly on your cheek bones

*(oh my God...is the going to be the moment of our kiss?? the butterflies in my stomach are making me go feral)*

xiao pov -

she looks so pretty, and at this moment, i can not resist her.

i want to kiss her soft lips so badly

she is so fucking perfect.

"y/n i love you so much" xiao says with a soft yet desperate look on his face

"and you have no idea of how badly i want to kiss you right now"

he pulls you closer by the waist, and your chest touches his....xiao got even more shy and nervous now

and finally, your lips meet.

he kisses your lips for a minute and then pulls out to breathe

"mmnh"

and then, he starts kissing you again, but this time, it was rather more intense?

he slides his tongue and starts playing with yours whilst both of you continue making slight moans

but xiao's moans start getting louder and louder as he goes down

he starts kissing your neck

"ngh xiao-"

his hot breath on your skin and the feeling of his lips sucking your neck made you moan his name

"ngh- xiao-"

"keep saying my name like that again, and i won't stop doing this"

and xiao did indeed stood on his words.

the feeling of his saliva in your lips and the continuous moaning was releasing your adrenaline and satisfying you fully

after fifteen minutes of making out, you both finally part your lips and xiao hugs you and he kisses your forehead gently

this moment was one of your favourite moments with him.

kissing your favourite person was the best thing

you could ever do.

you and xiao certainly experienced it

"i love you my girl, y/n"

"i love you too my forever, xiao"

[httpskuzuu]

Everything you need

this man makes me feel things

Yandere!Fyodor x Reader

English is not my mother tongue, sorry for the mistakes.

tw: kidnapping, yandere, mention of: broken bones, abuse, punishment (nothing explicit really), stockholm syndrome, brainwashing, reader needs therapy urgently, memory loss, broken reader, fyodor is a general tw

There were days when your mind wouldn't leave you alone. How long had you been here? Who were you before you met Fyodor? Did you have family? Friends? You remembered nothing.

Fyodor took everything from you, but did you really have anything to take from you before?

Today is one of those days, your mind doesn't stop scheming, and he knows, he always knows. Your mind always seemed like it was open like a book to him. No need for words between you, he just by looking at you knew what you were thinking, what you were feeling and what hurt.

You remember how that bothered you at first, you felt naked being with someone who was almost a mind reader. Now you don't remember why you felt upset, Fyodor knows everything and that brings you comfort.

Maybe it bothered you because you used to be rebellious, with a fighting spirit that you assumed was indomitable. Well, you were wrong, but you're better now, or so Fyodor says. He says you're much prettier when you're submissive, you believe him.

Sometimes memories came to you, memories of unfamiliar faces, sensations all over your body, sometimes you could remember a name you didn't know who it belonged to, sometimes a voice.

The memories you hate and love the most at the same time are the ones involving Fyodor: they bring pain, broken bones, screams, cries, but they can also bring security, hugs, soft words.

Today a memory came to you, a name and a voice, it was so soft, so pleasant, you wondered who it belonged to, some friend with the nicest smile in the world? Maybe a relative who always cared about you?

Fyodor's hand makes your train of thought cut off. He strokes your hair for a few moments and then runs his thumb along the line of your jaw.

You looked up at his face from your position lying on his chest. You no longer remember what you were thinking. You think you should apologize, you don't know exactly why, there is no need to, Fyodor is good now that you are good too, a compassionate and kind God.

You relax against his body and let his hand have a free way. You look at the book he holds in his other hand, it is in Russian and you wish you could understand it to distract your mind.

He knows that. "Do you want me to read to you, моя любовь?" his accent is thick and the vibrations from his chest escalate to your whole body. You nod weakly.

Fyodor's voice is calm, and along with the sound of his heart manages to melt you onto his chest.

Your mind is now blank, you can't and don't want to think. Why do you need to think in the first place? You have Fyodor with you, that's more than enough.

His hand runs all over your body, ends up reaching your wrist. His touch takes you back to the day he broke it, you can't help but shudder at that, and he notices. Fyodor's hand moves gently into your hair again.

You close your eyes wearily. After a few minutes, Fyodor stops reading, and you feel a chaste kiss on your forehead.

"Я тебя люблю.*"

*Я тебя люблю: i love you 🤭

[rottingpirate]

Price x male reader where the reader is the only medic seeming unfazed/unintimidated by John and when he gets injured on a mission, the reader is the one treating him.

Confessions || John Price x Medic M! reader

Warnings: medical inaccuracies, injuries, very light angst, bad love confessions because I can't write them, like one kiss

You weren’t the only medic on base, nor were you the best one. Sure you’d had your fair share of experience, you wouldn’t be there if you’d hadn’t, but by no means was there any logical reasoning as to why Captain Price seemed to seek you out to mend his injuries. Most often, it wasn’t anything to be terribly worried about, ranging from minor abrasions to angry looking lacerations to broken bones.

On the relatively rare occasion he did come back with more serious wounds you always felt the same creeping dread. It started whenever he was away, steadily growing in intensity, peaking when you would lay eyes on him in whatever poor state he returned. It wound through your lungs, wrapping so tight it threatened to pull them in with the gravitational force of a black hole. It was no secret that he could walk off base and never come back… at least not with a pulse.

 It wasn’t a pleasant thought. However, it did bring some sick sense of relief because it meant that he was barred from leaving for the next mission until he had a clean bill of health. Not that he hadn’t tried to persuade you otherwise. 

Today the mission had gone terribly. Half of the team ended up with some sort of injury thanks to Soap’s accidentally faulty intel. He would have his ear full of it by the time they made it back. What was supposed to be a simple in-and-out stealth mission turned into an ambush that the boys weren’t ready for at all. 

“We could use a medic.”

You remember hearing from one of the guys, though you weren’t sure who at the time as you had your back to them. This led you to the predicament you were currently in. 

The team was quiet for a few minutes as you had ushered Soap over to you so you could take a look at him. He had only suffered a small gun wound and you had easily patched him up with what supplies you had. He thanked you, making small talk and light jokes to relieve some stress off of one another’s shoulders.

While Ghost and Gaz's wounds weren't as severe, they were a little difficult to patch up. Gaz ended up with a knife stuck in his shoulder after they had both managed to get into a hand-to-hand fight.

“Ow! That hurts!” He whined, gripping your hand lightly. You gave him a gentle smile. “You’re doing great, Gaz. You’re almost done.” Lastly you lean down to wipe the blood and the dirt from his brow, holding his face so tenderly.

Ghost had a few wounds and a gnarly gash on his forearm which you were currently working on cleaning up.

“This will hurt, a lot. You can grab my arm if you like." You offered, but he just scoffed at you before you began wiping some antiseptic on his wound, as swiftly as you could. His jaw clenched, his lips set in a thin line, but that was the only reaction that you received.

Once you were done you told him to go find Price. A small “Okay” was all you heard as he left, heading toward where Price was at the moment.

He only left for a minute before shouting for Soap's assistance. Soap dashed as quickly as he could toward Ghost's voice as you and Gaz gave each other confused and worried looks. It didn't take long for you to see it.

"He's badly hurt, can you help him?" In concern for the captain, Soap's voice slightly shook. How could you have missed this?

Price was currently bleeding in Ghost's arms, his side bleeding from what you had only assumed to be a knife wound. To make matters worse, it was evident that he was attempting to conceal the wound and patch himself up. He had begun wrapping loose gauze around his middle from the torso upward to pressurize the wound and stop it from bleeding.

The sight of him in such a state broke your heart. As soon as you asked for him to put him down, you whipped around and grabbed whatever supplies you could find. Price had closed his eyes, but he was breathing deeply and steadily, which indicated that he was still alive. You tossed Price's vest and shirt to the side with Soap's assistance. His eyebrows creased together and he let out a painful groan as you started to remove the gauze.

You ordered for everyone to leave and everyone except for Gaz did as told.

Gaz stuck by your side as you began to look over Price’s wound. It was a deep cut, just underneath the edge of his right rib cage, but it thankfully was just a flesh wound, not deep enough to reach bone or any vital organ, Nevertheless, it still had to be extremely painful and if he was found not 30 minutes later, he surely would have been a goner. You took a small rag and began to disinfect the cut, earning a few disgruntled groans and whimpers from the man.

“Fuck..hurts…” He managed to let out. Your face scrunching up in worry.

“I know, I know. You just have to bear with me just a little longer, okay?” You responded on instinct, your heart heavy with sadness as you listened to the often caring and gentle captain you had grown a fondness of now writhing in pain and agony.

After you had cleaned the wound, you moved on to the worst part of the procedure: stitching. You tried your hardest to make it as painless as possible, but you felt bad for inflicting even more pain on him because you ran out of painkillers. He had always been so kind to you and genuinely interested about your activities. It wasn't that the others didn't, but it was nice to have someone there who understood what you were saying and asked questions to test your knowledge. You would be lying if you said you hadn't developed an attraction to the man now that you were closer to him.

Therefore, it broke your heart to see him lying here covered in blood and close to crying.

After the stitches were finished, you gathered any bandages you could to cover the wound. Gaz assisted you as you eventually began to clean up the areas that were covered in blood.

“Go get some rest, Gaz.” You told him. He let out a soft ‘thank you’ before looking back over to Price. “I’ll stay with him tonight. You need a mental break, doctor’s orders.” You told him with a small wink before hearing his gentle chuckle followed by the sound of him walking to inform the others of Price's current state.

Sitting down on a nearby chair, you crossed your arms before shutting your eyes.

//

You woke to the sound of sheets shuffling and soft groans. You sat up and looked over to Price who was rubbing his eyes and adjusting to his surroundings. He winced a bit as he propped himself up on one of the pillows, looking around before his eyes landed on you. “Careful, you have fresh stitches, might want to take it easy.” You informed him, keeping your voice low.

“What happened?”

“You got hurt pretty bad. When we found you– you had tried to wrap the wound up.”

“Ah…I remember.” He looked off to the side, his face scrunching up in embarrassment. His eyes gazed down to the handiwork you had made of his side before running his fingers over the bandages absentmindedly.

 “You okay? You had us worried.”

“I feel like utter shit,” he answered lucidly.

“You look like it. Why didn’t you come to me?” The statement wasn’t meant to be taken in a harsh way as it was just that, a statement.

“I..” He met your gaze before looking off toward something yet again, the gears in his head turning as he attempted to find the words he wished to say. “I see how much you care for the team and I have come to the evaluation that you put our well-being above your own. So, rather than overwork you, I wished to give you a small break. However…my plan seems to have backfired. I did not account for how deep my wound was and lost consciousness before I could finish cleaning it.” He explained and as you hung onto every word that poured from his mouth, you felt your chest clench in emotion.

“Price…”

“Looking at my actions now, I realize it wasn’t very clever of me to do that. But I do wish you would give yourself some…self-care. You have not had much of a break since you joined and I was merely hoping to give that to you.”

“But why? I understand wanting to give me a break– but why go so far as to risk your life to do so?” You challenged his argument and leaned forward to better look up at him and to study his facial features. He appeared to falter for a moment, once again thinking as to what he was about to say.

“I have become incredibly fond of you. At first, I thought it was just eagerness to have another member join the team– and one as brilliant as you.You have treated me differently and I might have grown feelings for you. Though, I don’t think-” He was starting to ramble until you decided to cut him off.

“I have feelings for you, too, Price.” watching his face morph from embarrassment to full-blown astonishment as his cheeks began to heat up.

“I..I enjoy your presence and you make me feel seen, and cared for– of course, I have feelings for you. I would be dumb not to.” You explained to him with a laugh, nudging his leg, making sure not to jostle his side even if it was currently numb. You pulled yourself to your feet and shuffled in next to him, ignoring the deep crimson stain on the edge of the sheets that you were sure would never come out.

There was a comfortable silence for a moment and you expected Price to be searching for something to say, but when you read his facial features, he was shocked and at a loss for words. He opened his mouth to say something, faltering and trying again twice before he finally managed to speak.

"Can I kiss you?”

Now, it was your turn to be speechless. Your mind was running a hundred miles per second and all you gave him was a nod of your head. The captain glanced at you before leaning closer, hesitating and pausing just in front of you. Nervousness ran through his body, you could tell, and before he had a chance to apologize, you closed the gap. His lips were unexpectedly soft and they melted and shaped against yours in such a perfect way, you were sure this had to be a dream.

Price’s hand came to rest on the back of your neck, gently pulling you closer to deepen the kiss. You let out a soft hum and after a few seconds, both of you pulled apart to take a breath. He smiled down at you and rested his forehead against your own.

[howlingtides]

Dazai visits Chuuya after Chuuya used Corruption to save him (Chuuya's POV)

Takes place immediately after Dead Apple

tags: hurt/comfort, soukoku's version of fluff, Chuuya has chronic pain

Every time Chuuya activated Corruption, it took him a little longer to recover. When he was younger, he'd sleep it off in a few hours. The last couple of times, it had taken him maybe a day or two.

It had been three days since he'd defeated that dragon and saved Dazai's ass, and his entire body still felt like it had been crushed beneath the pressure of his own ability.

It was absolutely brutal.

He'd definitely exceeded the recommended dose of painkillers over the last seventy-two hours, and though they did help a bit, it still wasn't enough. His head throbbed and his muscles burned and his bones ached and it took every ounce of effort he had to get out of bed and force himself to eat something.

All he had left in the fridge was some leftover rice and a half empty bottle of white wine, and cooking was the last thing he wanted to do right now. He opted for the rice, popping the lid off the container and grabbing a pair of chopsticks and bringing everything with him over to the couch where he all but fell against the cushions with a groan.

He'd just taken his first bite when there was a knock at the door.

You've gotta be fucking kidding me.

It crossed his mind to play absent, to let whoever was here think he wasn't home so they would go away and just leave him the fuck alone while he wallowed in his post-Corruption agony.

"Chuuuuuyaaa," came a sing-song voice from outside, another knock following suit.

Oh he was definitely pretending that he wasn't home.

"I know you're in there," Dazai said. "I can feel you pouting."

Damn it all to hell.

"Go to hell you goddamn coat rack."

"But Chuuya," he pressed, "I come bearing gifts."

Gifts? What the hell could shitty Dazai have possibly brought him?

He pondered it for a moment before ultimately deciding that this was a losing battle. Chuuya was either going to let Dazai in or Dazai was going to eventually let himself in.

He set the rice down on the coffee table and pushed himself up with a grunt, dragging himself over to the front door. And he must've been in worse shape than he thought because the moment he opened the door, Dazai's stupid smile faded a little.

Just a little.

But it was enough.

"Please don't," Chuuya said before Dazai could comment on his appearance.

"Don't what?"

"Just. Don't." He scrubbed a hand over his face. "Not today."

They stood there in silence for a moment as Chuuya held his breath.

Eventually, Dazai held up a brown paper bag. "In the mood for some carbonara?"

Chuuya was always in the mood for carbonara, and shitty Dazai knew that, but Chuuya was not in the mood for company, and Dazai probably knew that, too.

It was then that Chuuya's stomach growled and he remembered the cold white rice he was about to eat.

Begrudgingly, he stepped aside, allowing Dazai to enter.

It was also then that he realized how dark his apartment was. He'd kept all the blinds closed and the lights off because everything hurt and the light hurt, but if Dazai had something to say about it, he kept it to himself. Which was unsettling.

Was Chuuya dreaming?

"I figured you were still wallowing," Dazai said, setting the bag down on the coffee table next to the sad leftovers. "I haven't heard from you since you passed out in my lap."

There it was.

"That was not by choice, asshole," Chuuya snarled, limping back over to sit on the couch. "You held me down."

Dazai sat on the other side. "You looked pretty comfortable to me."

Chuuya could feel himself getting worked up, the pain increasing. "Dazai," he warned, rubbing at his temple.

"What?" Dazai continued. "It's not like it was the first time you've ever-"

"I should have left you to die."

"Well if you'd've done that, you'd be dead, too."

"Not the worst thing in the world right now."

Dazai paused at that and gave Chuuya this look.

Was that pity?

"I swear to god, if you-"

"I never got to thank you," Dazai said, cutting him off.

Chuuya froze, still trying to decide whether or not this was a dream.

"You saved me," Dazai continued. "You're always saving me, Chuuya." He slid the paper bag across the table. "So. Thank you."

Chuuya's chest felt warm. He stared down at the bag then back up at Dazai. "That's not poisoned, is it?"

Dazai gasped. "Chuuya! So soon after what happened to me? Consider a guy's feelings."

"You're so fucking full of it."

Dazai smirked. "You want me to take the first bite?"

He grabbed the paper bag, holding it away from Dazai. "Don't fucking touch it."

"I brought it for both of us."

Chuuya thought for a moment before setting the bag back down. "I guess," he uttered, "I guess I owe you one, too. For," he stared down at his hands, "saving me."

Dazai hummed in acknowledgement. "Has Chuuya gone soft?"

"Dick," Chuuya said, softly punching Dazai in the arm.

Dazai chuckled. "You're so easy."

Chuuya felt his cheeks go hot, and he wanted to scream, but he was also starving, and if it meant sharing a meal with Dazai to eat some delicious carbonara in his time of need, then.

Well, he guessed it also wasn't the worst thing in the world right now either.

[harleehazbinfics]

Dear Baby, Chapter 7

Dear Baby, m.list | Author's Profile

WARNING: dialogue of previous sexual and emotional abuse in the first part, read at your discretion! Word Count: 1.1k

Hours before daybreak you find yourself staring at ceiling that was painted beautifully of a garden and an apple tree in the middle. This left a bitter taste in your mouth.

‘Stupid. Why’d you even fall for him. He’s a married man. Just because he helped you, made you feel included, fed you, gave you work… ok this is not helping my case. But the point is, you shouldn’t have done that,’ you thought as you imagined a man with wings and a woman in that garden painting, ‘No matter how complicated his relationship with his wife is… and/or how skilled he may be with his tongue BUT—'

Delving deeper into your head, you recall moments from years ago.

‘Bring that one to my room tonight. Bathe her and dress her up nicely, it’ll be our first night together. Let’s hope she doesn’t disappoint like all the rest did.’

‘Haah, hahh. For a lowly baron’s daughter, you are quite an exquisite delicacy. You belong to me from now on, and you will serve me from a very long time.’

‘Worthless thing. You dare be haughty? Respond when you are spoken to, I’d hate to see lashes on my new favorite plaything.’

‘It hurts? You deserve to be punished. You gaze and talk with another man behind my back? Ungrateful wench, you belong to me!’

Then you remember screaming for him to stop, grappling at anything to get away from him. Only to stop and fall into submission as your tired and abused body caused you to feel numb all over.

You sit up abruptly heaving deep breaths, desperately shaking off your thoughts. Your hand falls to your stomach, slowly calming you down.

“My darling, you must promise me. No matter what happened, you must know that I love you very much. You are never a mistake. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and nothing will ever change that,” you whisper while you rubbed your bump.

With one final sigh, you got up off the bed prepared for the day. Today you felt like you were going on autopilot. You’d eat silently, work mechanically, and losing focus a few times causing you to sigh at your 3rd mistake today.

You press the pen down and rubbed your dominant hand as you leaned back against your chair. Feeling the exhaustion creep into your bones from waking up so early. You’re startled to see Lucifer put his hand on your forehead.

“Are you okay? You don’t seem to have a fever, that’s good,” he says in relief.

You blush at the sudden action and hold your forehead when he took his hand away and turn to the side trying to hide your blush.

It was just a couple days after you exchanged your feeling with one another and that very pleasure filled night. Of course, the both of you never got too far with your pregnancy and all. Nonetheless, it was truly an unforgettable experience. So unforgettable, in fact, that you felt hot between your thighs, and you couldn’t help but squirm remembering how his hands, lips and tongue roamed your body.

You blush deeply as your hair puffed up while you replied, “No, I’m just tired is all. I didn’t have a good rest last night unfortunately.”

He looks at you worriedly and says, “Well, you can stop working for today. You can come back once you’re feeling better.”

You gave him a strained smile and thanked him. When you got up to walk back to your room, your legs suddenly gave out. Lucifer, with his fast reflexes, caught you in his arms, his hands careful around your bump. Your hands on his chest looking at him in surprise while his was filled with worry.

Both your eyes flitted between each other’s eyes and lips. You caught a chaste kiss with him until you finally got a hold of yourself and pushed against his chest to stand up properly.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter awkwardly.

“You should be more careful,” he replies in the same tone and carefully removing his hands off your waist with a cough.

“Would you—” he then coughs again to clear his throat before continuing, “Would you like to come with me? Later? I want to show you something. I-if you’re not up to it, it’s fine you should rest as much as possible.”

You watch as he cutely stammers between his words with his hand on his nape with an anxious look in his face making you giggle.

“Of course. I’d be honored,” you reply making him blush wildly.

--

“I need you to keep your eyes closed.”

“Well, you’re making me nervous.”

“It’ll be worthwhile. I promise,” he assures looking at you meaningfully.

He escorted you to, what you assumed to be, the middle of the room when he stopped you and unveiled your covered eyes. What you saw astounded you. You were inside a darkened dome with projections of stars and planets that illuminated the walls and ceilings.

“This is beautiful! How did you—?” you ask, turning behind me to look at him shocked and in awe of the stunning view.

He pulls his hands behind his back and shakes them with glittery dust spewing from them and gives me a mischievous smile before replying, “Magic~”

You couldn’t help but give a chirping laugh and thank him for his gift.

He coughs and steps in front of me. “I have one more thing to show you.”

You give a smile and say, “I wonder what could top this off,”

He gives you a scroll with a decorative ribbon wrapped around the middle of it. You quirk your brow and open it.

‘MUTUAL PETITION OF DIVORCE’

Wide eyes dart back to his and mutter, “What?”

He takes a step closer to you and answers, “I went and asked for a divorce with Lilith. She seemed fine with it and signed it without much thought. But I got this to show you, how much you mean to me and how I want to be part of your life—” he pauses and gently taps your stomach, “your lives.”

You couldn’t help the tears spilling from your eyes. You were incredibly moved from his words and actions that you couldn’t hold back your sob, he worriedly wipes away your tears and holds your hand.

“You cry so easily,” he whispers with a small laugh before kissing your eyes.

After doing so, he raises his eyes and looks up at your and asks cautiously as to not ruin the atmosphere, “So… would you like to let me be the male character in your book?”

You huff a laugh and roll your eyes before nodding your head. He excitedly squeals and peppers your face with kisses, careful as he does so. You giggle at his feathery kisses and try to pry him away from you because of how ticklish you were.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you. I swear,” he promises as he nuzzles into you.

↪ Dear Baby, Taglist:

@wonderlandangelsposts @spoiled-slutt @roboticsuccubus83 @simbalioness @reachthestars @atlas-rings @luc1fersducky @condy-wants-a-cookie @lovestruck-enby @azullynxx @delightedtosee @beansluvsmilo @cherry-4200 @aria-tempest @lvstyangel @0strawberrysorbet0 @corvid007 @enby-goblin @whydosnakesnotdance @willow404 @psychoanalyze0 @sweetadonisbutbetter @hahalame @manachpo @dionysusismypatrongod @obessivlyonline @idkwhy5000 @gabile18 @bontensbabygirl @rocketxgirl @pastelpinkhobbies @theblueslytherin @purplerose291 @galaxyreader260 @dove @dang-arthurus @sappire904 @user0715991108

[jun-hug]

dream team art school! au

Doodles that inspired me to write a little drabble fic :)

ꕤ • ꕤ • ꕤ

This was Georges biggest project,

okay maybe biggest project this semester... or last 2 months, either way the assignment occupied boys attention for couple last weeks, especially this week. That's why his two best friends were so eager to meet up, it felt like they haven't seen him in so long yet they go to same university. When brunette texted on their group chat asking for a hand with a photoshoot he haven't even blinked an eye before they eagerly agreed.

What's even more exciting, boys haven't seen George's project yet! The oldest kept it a secret to "prevent the leaks" because apart from it being his assignment it was also an entry to one of his most ambitious fashion competitions. The fashion awards of all US fine arts universities. He had high hopes for it.

"Alright I'm almost ready, remember to put the ISO to 200, I borrowed those lights for a reason!” Georges words were a little muffled but still understandable as he worked on setting his design as perfectly as it could get.

"Got it Gogs, come on we don't have a whole day!” they did, their classes finished at 11am today and it was Friday so they were free for the next days. Sapnap was just eager to see the boys creation, after all he put all his heart into it, like he does to all his projects. "Actually we do" Dream interjected, youngest only glared at him knowing damn well he's as impatient considering constant taps on his thigh.

"Yeah Sap idiot, we have all day.. but you're right, it's better if the light from outside is still at it's best." he finally emerged from behind the wardrobe curtain. Okay. The boys were stunned it's not that George usually doesn't look like goddess himself - that's far from truth actually. It's just that this time they're seeing his art mixed with all his grace and beauty. Sapnap manages to whisper little "Oh god" only for Dream to hear, as the tallest boy starts "You-”

The baby blue glowy shirt, ornamented with flowered embroidery makes his face look soft, bringing out his strawberry cheeks and eyes hinted with a bit of peachy shadow. It all contrasts, yet fits without fault with a long, red, mermaid cut skirt. It's flowy, the material decorated with blue beads in the shape of hearts- And oh-

Dream gasps, Sapnap inhales loudly. Fishnets, George is wearing fishnets and the cut in the thigh is so high it shows his left leg fully. good christ, they are so down bad. Sapnap eyes Dream and They can really just see how both of them are fully raspberry blown faces.

They are both hot. red.

And The brunet who's the one and only cause is clearly oblivious to their reaction as he innocently asks "so how does it look?", makes a gesture with hands showing of the sleeves and frills on the skirt.

"I- you, it's well, George, it's so beautiful you look amazing." Dream exhaled eyes still on him, almost not blinking.

"George it truly is gleaming - I mean the colour palette for this one??? Ms Chevreu will loose her shit when she sees this! You actually are so skilled holy smokes” Sapnap added still admiring his friend's piece.

"awe thank you! I hope she looses her shit to be honest that would be funny, she's into reds recently so I think she will" boy snickered, his cheeks visibly tinted, not only from blush he applied couple minutes ago.

"alright!" he clapped his hands "time for shoot!"

Youngest set the light, while dark blond took photos to fill the entire SIM card folder. Taking that George was /very/ photogenic it was easy to catch the best shots, it's almost like he looks perfect in all of them. George is perfect tho, Dream thinks.

"Okay I think we're done, I took pictures from every side I think" Dream announced as George stretched "gods yes please my back is starting to hurt so bad" as to emphasize that he popped his bones ”ew George don't do that” Sapnap made a face.

"what do you mean you are the worst back popper I've met. Hearing only a scoff in response from other boy George's half lidded eyes closed for a little while.

"He's meditating guys!” Dream squeeked in one of his mocking voices, George giggled "he's died!"

"Okay, that's it I'm checking the photos!" Sapnap yanked the camera from the tallest's hands and plopped on one of the puff poufs. "Hey be careful you goose! this camera only cost me 5 and a half months of cafeshop money!” Dream hurried with scolding

George got up slowly and joined the youngest, soon enough all three of them were slumped on floor, brit in the middle looking and commenting on photos. "Hey guys.." brunet started, causing Dream and Sapnap turning to him.

"yeah?" dark brunette asked.

"thank you... for supporting me, like not only this time but at all" he turned his eyes from both pairs of theirs. Then he cupped each cheek and gave it a short kiss.

Boys blushed, all three of them.

"Yeah no problem Gogs, we'll always be your biggest fans" Sapnap breathed out.

"Always" Dream repeated.

And if for the rest of the day boys only watched movies all cuddled up on couch, snacking on anything they found in brunets kitchen, that was on them.

thank you for reading ♡

hugs,

Jun

[upontherisers]

my brain is evil today and still screaming about your baseball prompts so uhhhh mahalia plus ⁸⁰⁾ wet clothes and ambulance sirens please if i may — @shoshiwrites

this prompt is so EVOCATIVE shoshi. i was brought to lake harding immediately. cw for descriptions of injury/blood and descriptions of anxiety attacks.

All he can hear are the sirens — loud, they’re always so fucking loud. Screeching in his ears, making his eyes feel like they’re about to pop out of his skull. Non-stop, on and on and on and on and on, drilling into his brain, not getting any quieter as the ambulance speeds away to Saratoga Springs, yelling at him, screaming, bursting into his veins until his cells are vibrating at the same frequency.

Meatball started howling before they could even hear them and he’d stood no chance against that horn, the blaring panic that thumped along to the terrible heartbeat of the lights, flash flash, flash flash. The red and yellow flickered on Mahalia’s face like days passing too fast — ochre dawn and crimson dusk — as they rolled her up from the ropes course. She was with him the entire time, so completely herself as blood poured into her right eye due to burst vessels and the odd angle of her knee had Kyle radioing the hospital for Trauma Bay 2, and he was holding the back of her skull together with his hands while she insisted that Vera grab the “good charger” left of her bed and her Stitch crocs, not the Shrek ones.

And the sirens got louder as they neared the ambulance, and it’s not hospitals John has a problem with, but sirens. They only ever take people away.

He’s going to crack a tooth if he doesn’t unclench his jaw but he can’t ‘cause the sirens are so FUCKING loud. They’re gonna shatter his bones he was holding the back of her skull together with his hands—

“John.” 

There’s a hand at his shoulder and he forgot he had a body for a moment but the hand is firm. The sirens get a driveway length’s quieter.

“John,” Buck says. John blinks and sees what he’s been looking at — the inside of his bunk, empty and grey on a dark evening, unable to remember when he started looking at it. The hand, Buck’s hand, squeezes his shoulder and his chest hurts because he’s been holding his breath. He exhales and it hurts like hell, biting at his insides, squeezing so hard it makes him nauseous and it feels like sirens in his ears.

Buck tugs at him and he gives, catching his balance as he comes back into his legs. It’s like looking at the sun when he sees someone else for the first time in however long he’s been standing here and he wants to cover his eyes but his hands are dead at his sides. 

He forgot Buck had scars.

“John—“ And Buck’s hand’s at his collar now and if he could get the sirens to stop, he could say something. “Breathe, John.”

He was holding his breath again and as he exhales, the lights start turing orange with distance. They’re on the road now, blinkers flashing for left.

“You need to change.”

Right, it’s raining. The rain, that’s the reason they were… it’s raining.

He needs to get the blood off his hands but as he looks down, he finds that he already has. There’s nothing left, nothing out of the ordinary — no dark red, no white fleck of what he hopes isn’t bone — only a slight blue tinge along the muscles. It gets so cold when it rains up here. 

Buck throws a shirt at him, then boxers and some joggers, and he doesn’t know if he can do it. There was so much blood on his hands as they lifted her into the ambulance and he’s treated more head wounds than he can count so he knows it isn’t good. He looks down at his hands and there was just so much blood and he doesn’t fucking know where he is. It’s so LOUD in his head. 

It’s cold and loud and it’s always cold and loud when the ambulances come — in Wisconsin in November or the Catskills in June. 

That’s when he notices the boys aren’t there. But where did—do they know? The lights are off so he didn’t see them before Buck showed, and the boys need to know. Harry’s boys too, and Buck’s, and everyone needs to know. 

She fell so fast. One moment, she was making her way down the ladder above him as he turned to talk to Benny on the ground and the next, a gasp and a terrible two heartbeats before she was on her back below him with a leg the shape it shouldn’t be.

He’s freezing so he changes. His shirt’s on backwards but he really truly honestly couldn’t give less of a shit as his skin stops burning with dry things on and the sirens have to wait for one more car before they turn down Wilton Road and disappear from ear and eye. But they really, really want him to know they’re there.