#need to think of another colour to blaze

[figula]

not wanting tumblr to die isn't really a good reason to give them money considering staff actively and maliciously drives off trans women and people of colour for the heinous crime of... existing peacefully and talking about their lives. consider giving that money to the hundreds of thousands of people seeking mutual aid, or the families escaping genocide, or... literally anything else. reevaluate your priorities and your morals

ok im going to answer this one time bc people keep saying the same thing

you have no idea who i am or where i put my money. you have no idea what i pay for and what i do with my time. you see one monthly payment and you have decided you know where i put my money? you are not morally superior to me bc i pay £6.99 a month to tumblr.com lol. you have no idea who i am friends with and the conversations we have had about tumblr. to neatly sum it all up: you don't know me

of course i don't like the CEO. ofc i think he behaved awfully. punishing a CEO should not come at the expense of the communities already on tumblr. losing tumblr entirely would be an enormous loss to a lot of niche communities INCLUDING those you mentioned. you dont have to agree with me but this is how i feel and how my friends feel. and tbh i am more inclined to listen to my actual friends than random anons on the internet. you wont even put your name on your opinion? lol at least i'm not embarassed about mine

[starofthesea7]

König~ it means ‘darling’

(König fingers you in the kitchen.)

Baby hairs stuck to the sweat of the back of your neck as you padded down the stairs to the communal kitchenette on floor 3. A heatwave had swept through the desert valley, expanse of sand still warm from the blazing sun, long since set. You’d woken up with a parched throat, in search of a glass of water.

As you neared the kitchen, flickering phosphorescence of the 80’s refrigerator down the hallway revealed another sleepless soldier must be awake. You peered inside, with half a mind to turn around, depending on who you might discover; you were now painfully aware of your thin cotton tank top and threadbare sleep shorts that must be at least a decade old, and how a soldier may mistakenly perceive your attire as some sort of colourful welcome sign.

Your gaze fell upon König inspecting the contents of the fridge, and you immediately felt your muscles relax, knowing he would blush at a mere glimpse of your clothed chest, let alone bother you for it. It was known that the colossal man was always snacking, as the energy needed to sustain such a large body, as well as its profuse activity, was immense. Now he was basking in the cool air of the refrigerator, bent over to peer in, his arm draped over the door. The fluorescent glow illuminated the contours of his bare chest abdomen, and you found your eyes lingering.

You’d never seen him shirtless before, and fuck, he was attractive. A greek marble statue carved by an expert hand. Lean rippling muscle, a pale, broad expanse of solid back, formed naturally by constant use and necessity. A well oiled machine, complete with a sheen of sweat glazing his heated skin. Your gaze trailed down, to a thick waist, soft indents of relaxed abs, and muscled hips which disappeared below the waistband of his pyjama pants.

You’d had a crush on the Austrian soldier for a while now, but fate had never placed the two of you in a room together, or close enough for you to make true conversation with the introvert. He was friendly enough, but you’d never gotten past simple gentile greeting. His soft presence, however, always brought comfort with it. So large, yet unimposing, as if nothing could harm you with him there.

You breathed in, and took a step forward. Bare feet sticking to cool linoleum. He turned at the movement eyes darting, then relaxing when he saw you smiling at him. You now realized he wasn’t wearing his mask. Somehow, it felt natural, here, under the cover of night. The lightsource behind him left much to your imagination as he turned toward you, however you were bathed in light. He could see your face, flushed with heat, cheeks shining with perspiration.

“König,” Your voice was soft as you greeted him, “Couldn’t sleep either?”

He shook his head, his voice was deep and raspy with fatigue, and it nudged a quickened heart beat in your chest. “‘S too hot.”

“I know. That fridge feels nice.” You brushed passed him, barely grazing his hip with yours, it left a fuzzy tingle in it’s wake. He seemed decidedly too large for the tiny kitchen, like a lion in a cage. Unnatural.

You turned, filling a glass with water, and found yourself wondering if he was watching you, studying the curves of your body the way you just had his. Perhaps he was noticing the way your shorts were a size or two too small, riding up the split of your ass. Perhaps he felt this pull towards you, as you did towards him. Pole to pole. You glanced over your shoulder to see him fully engrossed in comparing the nutrient facts of two different fruit cups. You felt yourself flush, and downed your glass of water, cool water soothing your heated body. Slightly.

You filled it again, before turning to him, taking a another sip from your cup. “Water?”

He turned slightly, looking down at you, “Sure, thank you.”

Before you could think twice, you were handing him your own glass. His eyes flickered from the glass, down to you, and back to the glass. Before you could reiterate, correct yourself, grab him a new, clean one from the cupboard, he took it, a large pale hand swallowing it whole. It was littered with a collection of veins and small scars. You couldn’t help but imagine how it might look compared to your own. Holding yours. Perhaps on your thigh. Your windpipe…

As he raised it to his lips, his eyes held yours vehemently, the sight of his lips where yours had been moments ago made your head cloud slightly. You gazed up at him, ardent through your lashes, studying what you could see of his face.

Although bare before you, in face and body, his true form still escaped you. An enigma. You could make out broad, muscled shoulders, a pale, broad column of neck with a white, healed scar gracing one side. You wanted to graze it with your teeth. A glint of canines and a jaw, sharp, with a whisper of stubble. His nose was large and slightly crooked, in endearing way, as if it had been broken when he was a child. Flicker of an eye, green, which you knew all too well, as they were usually your only point of reference for his expression. His hair was light, tousled from bed, and looked in need of a trim, shorter pieces curling across his forehead and around his neck, damp with sweat. He was younger than you’d imagined. And, admittedly, more attractive.

He leaned into you, and your pulse quickened, before realizing he was only placing the glass on the counter beside you. “Danke.” You nodded up at him, words escaping you in the moment, his close proximity having an embarrassing effect on you. He was hard to read; you supposed that was part of his job. His true motives indecipherable, though laced throughout his subtle movements. Did he want to reach out? Touch you?

You were pulled from your thoughts, “Would you, uh, would you like a fruit cup?” His voice was hesitant, you could tell he felt as though he should offer you something in exchange for the drink. It was cute.

You smiled at him, and pulled yourself up onto the counter, feeling it cold against your skin. A reminder you weren’t wearing anything under your threadbare shorts. “Sure. Mango please.”

As he moved, chilled air swept across your body, goosebumps rose and you saw his eyes flick to your chest, the movement undetectable had you not been studying him. Your heartbeat quickened—your nipples must have been poking through your thin tank. He tore his eyes away quickly.

He cleared his throat and turned back to the fridge, as it illuminated his face you noticed a large scar running from his cheekbone down to his jaw, as well as a split lip. How strange, only hours ago he had been on the field. Ferocious. Violent. Yet here he was, presenting you with a fruit cup. He selected the one labeled mango, and you realized it was the one he had set aside to have himself, and the last mango. You watched as he attempted to open it for you, collossal fingers struggling to grasp the small tab.

You held back a grin. “Here, I can do it.” You opened it easily. Not wanting to dirty a spoon, you began to eat it with your fingers. You felt his eyes on you as you slipped the fruit into your mouth.

Now he was struggling to open his own, bent over to focus. You chuckled, “Let me help. ‘S difficult with your big hands, huh.”

Hair fell across his forehead as he raised his head to look at you, cheeks flushing at your remark, and it dawned on you that perhaps he was insecure about his size. The thought was almost funny to you —If only you could tell him it was one of his best qualities. Hell, it made you want him. Badly.

“Yeah, danke, liebling.” You opened it with no trouble, before handing it back to him. He stood in front of you, a foot of space between your thighs and his, thick with tension. You wanted him closer, the space feeling like both a mile and a hair’s width. Both of you were illuminated softly in the darkness, quietly eating packaged tropical fruit.

Your voice surprised you, breaking the comfortable silence, “What does that mean?”

“Hm?” The deep sound made your throat dry.

“Liebling.” You cringed at your poor imitation.

“Oh, uh..” he was blushing, avoiding eye contact. Your pulse quickened slightly with anticipation. What had he called you? His voice quieted with embarrassment, “It means ‘darling’.”

Your heart swelled at his words. Darling. König had called you darling. You leaned back against the cabinet, shoulder blades pressing into plywood, legs parting slightly. You saw his eyes waver from his snack to your thighs. Splayed out before him. Tilting your head up at him, your lips stretched into a smile and you blurted, “You’re cute.”

He flushed at your words, eyebrows raised slightly. “Really? No one calls me that.” His fingers toyed with the plastic in his hands.

You finished your fruit, and licked your fingers clean, eyes on his. “I think you’re very cute.” His vehement eye contact as you sucked your finger made you dizzy. It felt intimate, even a little dirty- cliche. A low budget porno.

Something urged you to keep going. Push further. Whether it was the heat, the late hour or clenching of your cunt you couldn’t be sure, but you wanted more. You wanted to touch him. “Can I try?” You nodded towards the last piece of fruit in his fingers. Your pulse hammered. He looked at his hand, and back at you, as you dared him to give it to you, feed it to you. Your palms were glued to the counter, making no move to do it yourself.

He swallowed hoarsely. You suddenly realized he was shy. Although he was an intimidating presence -colossal in comparison- you made him nervous. Your muscles tensed in anticipation, your jaw opened for him. “Yeah,” His voice was soft and raspy. He leaned forward, lips parted slightly, mirroring yours. Your abdomen tightened as he grabbed the counter in between your legs, as if to stabilize himself, still not courageous enough to grab you. You gazed up at him, wanton through damp lashes as his fingers entered your mouth, so gently. Afraid to be too rough, afraid to hurt you. Used to being a bull in a china shop-but you could take him. God you could take him.

His lids were heavy, pupils blown as he stared at your lips. You felt his breath hitch as your lips wrapped around his fingers, sucking gently. Sweet, rough, calloused. Hot and large. You felt high with fervour, something in you wanted to take him deeper, show him you could do it. But you held back, pulling away with a quiet pop. Lips wet with juice and spit.

He raised his fingers, brushing a lock of hair from your cheek gentle with veneration, before they found the back of your head, skimming, then intertwining, tugging. Need overtook his timid respect. Your scalp prickled as he gripped the back of your head pulling you towards him. Into him. Your lips parted as you looked up at his face, back arching as he tugged you into him, searing cunt pressing molten against the cold plastic countertop. He was looking down at you with furrowed brows, need etched into every feature. Hot breath fanned your cheeks.

“Bitte.” Please. “Don’t tease me.” A fervent murmur that made your stomach flop. He pulled you into him, dwarfing you, lips searing against yours, his mouth opening immediately, inviting you in, pleading for more. More of you. He tasted of peaches and blood as his lip re-split with his mindless movements. Sweet ambrosia collocating with metallic copper. Oxymoron of gentle and harsh. Sweet and bitter.

He was scorching in your arms, musk and sweat. Deep and heady. Months of built up need unwinding, finally. Hot lust satiated, slightly. His grip was white knuckled on the counter between your plush thighs. It’s proximity taunting you, reminding you how badly you needed him there. How your fingers hadn’t been enough for the past months, how you were too small. But he could do it. God he could. He could fill you up- stretch you out. You couldn’t help gripping his wrist, inching your way towards him, squirming, letting out a warbled whimper as your wet cunt dragged against the counter. He groaned into your open mouth, fingertips tightening in your hair when he found your puffy cunt bare for him, clenching, wet and waiting for him.

You jolted as rough fingers brushed your clit, letting out a quiet, pathetic whine. “Quiet, leibling.” His calloused thumbs rubbed circles around the sensitive spot, making you squirm. He groaned as his fingers glided slowly down your sopping slit. His head swam- all for him? This was all for him? He could hardly wrap his mind around the thought. He’d touched himself at night, shamefully, thinking about you-about this puffy little cunt just a few doors down. And here you were, spread and ready for him, wanting to take him. His cock flushed beneath his waistband, heavy and hot. Needy.

You cried out softly as he split you open on his finger, and he pulled you into his shoulder, your mouth agape at the feeling of being stuffed with him. His middle finger twice the size of your own, you squirmed as he sank, knuckle deep. He pushed another inside of you, and you spasmed around him, overwhelmed at the euphoric feeling of being stretched so easily. Gummy walls pulled him in deeper. Sweat prickled his forehead as he held back his need to feel you squeezing his pulsing cock, the want to spread you open, fill you up- see how far you could go. See if you really could take all he wanted to give. You let out an airy moan as he hit that spongey spot inside of you with his middle finger, thighs glued together in over stimulation, spine arching-

Suddenly, to your dismay, he pulled out, quickly stepping away from you. You blindly reached out for him as cold air hit you. Reeling with emptiness. Had you done something wrong? Then you heard it, a creak of stairs. Heavy footsteps.

He reached out and you jolted as he brushed your clit, tugging your threadbare shorts back over your gaping cunt. He leaned back against the counter, face composed as ever.

A figure emerged from the hallway. It was the Lieutenant. He was squinting in the darkness to make out your figures. Voice was rough against the silence, save for the buzzing refrigerator, “Ah, grabbing a snack too?” You could do nothing but stare at König, unable to believe he had been knuckle deep inside you just moments before.

König nodded, face relaxed, lids heavy. He raised his hand and your sopping cunt clenched as you saw him place his fingers to his mouth, to taste you. As the Lieutenant watched. Vulgar. Lecherous. Your spit, slick, and peach juice swirling together in his hot mouth.

You flushed down to your fucking thighs at his words: “Yes sir, just having a peach.”

[rainforestakiie]

Hi!! I know you’re busy and please ignore this if you want. But I wanted to bring up the idea before I forgot. from Be Lonely With Me, we see how Adam enjoys the unique changes about Lucifer. Slowly bringing up his confidence in himself. I was wondering, only if you want too, but if there was a scene that Adam, ever the farmer, is helping Lucifer clean his little hooves. And is being so gentle about them. Lucifer’s a little shy about it and Adam tries distracting him with talk. And inevitably, they talk about Lucifer’s out changes, like the horns, his wings, but especially the tail. Adam is surprised Lucifer doesn’t have it too, but Lucifer assumes, like his wings, the tail was part of his powers. And Adam just goes. “Awww. That’s a shame. I wonder if it’s just as soft too” emphasis on Lucifer’s legs and hands, like an absent minded flirting and open admittance that Adam likes touching them.

hi!!!!

nooo, i'm never too busy for your requests! i hope you like this! a scene that should have been in Be Lonely with Me! with a little bonus added to the end!

Lucifer’s face bloomed into a radiant shade of crimson, so vibrant and intense that sweet, innocent Adam couldn’t help but compare it to the bright, sun-kissed tomatoes he had gathered earlier. He didn’t care much for the taste of tomatoes, but oh, how he adored that deep, fiery red!

Another exciting discovery! Adam had recently started naming things after colours, thrilled by his own blossoming sense of creativity. Still, with wide, curious eyes, he stared up at the Archangel, his face a perfect portrait of childlike innocence.

“Why?”

“Um...” Lucifer stammered, his usual composure unravelling. A delicate puff of steam seemed to rise from his golden curls as he hurriedly removed his top hat, lest the heat of his fluster leave embarrassing stains on it. “It... it’s just the way things are.”

“But why?” Adam pouted, his confusion only deepening as he scratched his head. “If it’s so important, why don’t I have them?”

Lucifer blinked in surprise, his sapphire eyes sweeping over Adam’s perfect form. His siblings had brought up the idea of dressing Adam a few times, offering him clothing like the angels wore, but Lucifer had always managed to steer the conversation away from it. In truth, he adored seeing Adam roam the paradise of Eden freely unburdened, unspoiled. Not that he’d ever confess that to his brothers and sisters! Michael would surely banish him from the garden for such thoughts.

But how could anyone not admire Adam’s beauty? His wild hair, a mix of earthy browns and sunlit reds, fell messily around his face. His pale skin, now kissed by Eden’s endless sunshine, was beginning to take on a golden glow. And his eyes—those eyes! Lucifer’s favourite feature of all. They were the colour of Eden itself, a blazing emerald green, unique and dazzling, unlike anything he or his siblings had ever seen.

“You don’t need them,” Lucifer finally murmured, though his voice trembled, his blush now spreading down his neck. “I... need them.”

Adam’s brow furrowed, his confusion growing. His emerald eyes drifted to the crisp, snowy-white robes that draped elegantly over Lucifer’s form. He crawled closer, his innocent fingers gently tugging at the soft blue edges, lifting them ever so slightly. A startled yelp escaped Lucifer’s lips as he quickly smoothed the fabric back down, his blush deepening to an almost impossible shade. Adam only giggled in response, finding the angel’s reaction amusing.

“What are these called?” Adam asked, his voice full of wonder as he continued to play with the hem of Lucifer’s robes. “And why do you wear so many?”

Lucifer swallowed nervously, offering a shy, trembling smile. “Um... they’re called robes. Heavenly clothing, made from divine light. And I wear layers because... b-because it’s sacred. As an angel, I’m not supposed to show my skin.”

“None of it?” Adam asked, his gaze shifting to Lucifer’s hands. Without thinking, his fingers lightly traced over the exposed skin there, curious and soft.

Lucifer’s breath hitched as he wrapped his slender fingers around Adam’s hand, his heart fluttering at the warmth of the touch.

“That’s... different,” he whispered bashfully.

Adam, always so curious, reached out with his other hand, his touch feather light as he trailed his fingers along Lucifer’s arm, up to his neck, and then to his flushed cheek. “Your neck... and face? Your skin is bare here too.”

Lucifer trembled under the gentle caress, his voice a mere squeak. “T-That’s different as well.”

Adam shifted even closer; his innocent eyes wide with curiosity. “But why is it different?”

“It just is!” Lucifer squeaked, his voice high-pitched as he quickly took hold of Adam’s wandering hand, gently guiding it down to his lap. His heart was racing, and he let out a soft, shaky breath. But as he gazed at Adam, he couldn’t help but smile. He adored how endlessly inquisitive the first human was.

Sighing, Adam slumped his shoulders in frustration. “Everything is ‘just the way it is.’ It’s so confusing.”

Lucifer chuckled softly, his voice tender. “It’ll get easier, Addie. You’re still learning. You’ll understand more as time goes on.”

Adam nodded slowly, trusting his guardian Archangel completely. He always believed what Lucifer said, for his angel never steered him wrong. But still, his gaze lingered on the shimmering robes that flowed around Lucifer like a celestial waterfall.

“Why don’t I have these... ‘clothes’?” he asked.

Lucifer clicked his tongue playfully. “You don’t need them.”

“Why not?” Adam pressed.

“You just don’t,” Lucifer grinned, his sapphire eyes twinkling as they met Adam’s vibrant green ones.

Shifting closer to Adam, his six wings fluttered softly behind him, creating a delicate breeze that ruffled the grass beneath them. Lucifer leaned in with a mischievous smile, his voice dropping to a secretive whisper.

“Can you keep a secret, Addie?”

Adam’s face lit up immediately, his emerald eyes sparkling with excitement. He straightened up like a curious little meerkat, his whole body buzzing with anticipation. “A secret? I can keep a secret! What’s a secret, Luci?”

Lucifer chuckled warmly, leaning in even closer until his nose brushed against Adam’s cheek. He grinned when he saw Adam blush, a rosy hue spreading across his face. “A secret is something shared between just the two of us. If I tell you, you can’t tell anyone else—not even the other angels.”

Adam gasped; his eyes wide in shock.

“Not even the animals?” he whispered, as if the birds and creatures of Eden were listening in on their private conversation.

“Not even the animals,” Lucifer nodded with a playful glint in his eye. “Do you think you can keep it, Addie? Can I trust you with my secret?”

Without hesitation, Adam eagerly nodded, his fingers tightening around Lucifer’s hands. “Yes! I promise! I’ll keep it safe!”

“You mustn’t tell my brothers or sisters~” Lucifer sang teasingly, letting go of Adam’s hands. He wiggled closer to the edge of the soft grassy hill they were sitting on, the pond below shimmering in the sunlight like a bed of diamonds. With a sly grin, Lucifer gently tugged at the bottom of his robes, lifting them just enough to reveal his bare feet.

Adam’s eyes grew wide with wonder, his breath catching in his throat. He watched in awe as Lucifer slipped off his pristine white shoes and raised his robes higher, allowing them to rest just above his knees. The sight of Lucifer’s feet, glistening like stardust under the warm light, left Adam speechless.

Lucifer, clearly enjoying Adam’s reaction, leaned over and planted a soft, teasing kiss on his cheek. Adam’s blush deepened, his whole face turning the same shade of red that had colored Lucifer’s earlier.

“Just this once, I’ll show you my feet,” Lucifer whispered with a playful wink before dipping them into the cool, crystal-clear waters of the pond. “Now, come sit with me, Addie~”

Adam, shy but eager, scooted closer and slipped his own feet into the water beside Lucifer’s. His heart fluttered as he watched the angel’s feet sparkle in the water, the cool sensation sending delightful tingles up his legs. He gasped when Lucifer’s foot brushed gently against his, the touch soft and teasing.

“Remember, Addie,” Lucifer murmured, his voice as soft as the breeze, “Uou mustn’t tell anyone about this.”

Adam’s breath hitched, and he nodded fervently, his gaze locked on the spot where their feet touched beneath the water.

“I-I won’t tell anyone, “He whispered, his voice barely audible.

Lucifer smiled sweetly, his sapphire eyes twinkling with affection.

“Good boy~” he purred, gently stroking his foot against Adam’s once more.

Adam’s heart raced, a warmth spreading through him that had nothing to do with the sun. He felt safe, cherished, and loved. With Lucifer by his side, everything in Eden seemed perfect—even if the world was full of confusing mysteries, if they had their little secrets, Adam knew he’d always have something special that was just for them.

~#~

Adam blinked hard, pulling himself out of a memory that felt both sweet and distant, like a faded photograph. He didn’t know why it resurfaced now, but the ache in his heart told him how deeply those moments had mattered. How close he and Lucifer once were—before Lilith entered their world. Before everything changed.

Lucifer had shown him his feet. Something so sacred and forbidden for angels to reveal. And yet, Lucifer had done it for him, swearing Adam to secrecy. It was such a tender gesture, and as Adam remembered, his own bare feet tingled, as if they could still feel Lucifer’s delicate touch. The way he had gently brushed their feet together, his expression always innocent, though Adam sensed something more behind those sparkling sapphire eyes. Lucifer’s feet had shimmered like the stars themselves, and Adam had often wondered if all of the Archangel’s skin sparkled in that celestial way, or if it was something uniquely Lucifer. Either way, the memory made Adam’s heart race all over again.

“Addie~” a familiar, joyful voice called from the bushes. Lucifer’s lean, graceful form emerged from the lush greenery, his body wrapped in a playful tangle of woven leaves, petals, and vines. His golden hair shimmered like spun sunlight, framing his cherry-red cheeks, making him look impossibly adorable. “There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

Adam’s lips curled into a smile as he watched Lucifer approach, his fingers sinking into the soft golden sand along the riverbank. “Sorry, I guess I got lost in my thoughts.”

His eyes lingered on the fallen angel. Lucifer still looked breathtakingly beautiful, even after the fall. His once flawless white skin now carried a peppering of black along his arms, which had morphed into long, sharp claws. His legs were coated in soft midnight fur that ended in hooves. His face had become slightly more angular, his eyelashes long and dramatic, while his once sapphire eyes had melted into molten gold, flecked with crimson. The blue tint of his cheeks had deepened into a rich, blood-red hue, but Adam still saw the same beauty beneath it all.

“What’re you thinking about?” Lucifer cooed, dropping to his knees beside Adam and practically shoving himself into Adam’s space, preening for affection like a cat seeking warmth. "Anything nice about me?"

A small laugh escaped Adam, and with a burst of boldness, he leaned in to kiss the sensitive red markings on Lucifer’s cheeks, the Archangel's weak spot. A thrill of satisfaction ran through him as Lucifer shuddered and moaned softly, flushing even deeper.

“Of course,” Adam teased, his voice gentle. “I’m always thinking sweet things about you.”

Lucifer smirked at that; his eyes gleaming mischievously. “Damn right you are.” He stretched his legs out, his claws grazing over his thigh as he relaxed beside Adam.

Adam’s gaze flickered to the white scar that marred Lucifer’s thigh—a reminder of the time Lucifer had scaled the Tree of Knowledge and faced off with the fierce Cherubim guarding it. He’d gotten hurt because of Adam’s curiosity, because he couldn’t resist helping him, despite the risks.

“You can touch it, if you want,” Lucifer said softly, catching Adam’s gaze. “I’ve seen you looking.”

Adam flushed, feeling a wave of guilt wash over him. “It’s just... you got hurt because of me, and—”

“I don’t regret it. Not for a second,” Lucifer interrupted, his tone firm and resolute. He reached out and took Adam’s hand, his claws curling gently around it, guiding Adam’s palm to his scarred leg. “You don’t think it’s ugly, do you?”

Adam’s heart clenched. He had noticed this more and more lately—Lucifer, despite all his power and beauty, constantly seeking reassurance. No matter how often Adam told him he was stunning, it never seemed to fully sink in. Lucifer, the radiant, fallen star, still didn’t believe he was worthy of love.

“Luci,” Adam whispered, his fingers tracing the scar as if to soothe it. “There’s nothing ugly about you. Nothing. You’re beautiful to me—always have been, always will be.”

Lucifer’s golden eyes softened, but Adam could see the flicker of doubt that still lingered behind them, a shadow that refused to let go. He leaned in closer, pressing his forehead against Lucifer’s.

"I mean it," Adam whispered against Lucifer's skin, his voice filled with warmth and sincerity. "To me, you're perfect—scars and all."

Lucifer’s lips curled into a small, tender smile. He didn’t say anything, but the way he leaned into Adam’s touch, the way his body relaxed just a little more, spoke volumes. Even if he couldn’t fully believe the words, in that moment, he wanted to.

Adam's fingers traced the jagged, yet oddly mesmerizing, scar on Lucifer's leg. It zigzagged across his thigh but had a faint star-like shape to it, just like all of Lucifer’s scars. Adam couldn’t help but wonder why every deep wound Lucifer bore healed into a star. Even the scar on his own chest had the same celestial pattern. His touch lingered on the soft, velvety fur that framed the scar, the gentle texture of Lucifer’s goat-like legs always surprising him. Despite their sharp appearance, they were tender, warm, and inviting beneath Adam’s fingers.

“That feels nice,” Lucifer murmured, his voice a mix of contentment and playfulness as he rested his head against Adam’s shoulder. His breath was soft against Adam’s skin, the moment intimate and peaceful. “I love it when you give me attention.”

A light laugh escaped Adam’s lips, his chest vibrating from the sound. “Of course you do.”

Lucifer chuckled, his voice taking on a teasing, sing-song tone. “Because I’m selfish~”

Before Adam could respond, Lucifer leaned up and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the curve of Adam’s throat. He felt the way Adam shivered beneath his lips, and it delighted him to no end. He pulled back just enough to see the flush creeping up Adam’s neck, his own grin widening with satisfaction.

“I also like to return the attention, Addie~” Lucifer whispered, his voice a seductive purr as his golden eyes glimmered with mischief. His fingers trailed gently along Adam’s arm, his touch as light as the breeze, drawing a shudder from the human beneath him.

Adam's heart fluttered, a mix of warmth and nerves coursing through him. He couldn't help but smile, despite the heat rising in his cheeks. "You’re incorrigible, you know that?"

Lucifer grinned wider, his eyes sparkling like molten gold. "And you love it."

Adam sighed, rolling his eyes playfully, but his smile never faded. He did love it—the attention, the way Lucifer knew exactly how to make him feel special. And in these quiet moments, with the gentle rhythm of the river in the background and Lucifer’s presence wrapped around him like a comforting blanket, Adam felt at peace.

He leaned down and pressed his forehead softly against Lucifer’s, their breath mingling in the small space between them.

“Maybe I do,” Adam whispered, his voice barely audible but filled with affection.

Lucifer’s grin softened into something more tender, his hands gently cupping Adam’s face as he nuzzled closer. “Good. Because I’m never letting you forget it, Addie.”

Adam’s emerald eyes wandered down the length of Lucifer’s legs, trailing over the soft, velvety fur and coming to rest on his hooves. His heart clenched when he saw them—sore, unkempt, and clearly neglected. A distressed sound escaped his throat before he could stop it, his brow furrowing with concern.

"Lucifer!" Adam scolded softly, his voice filled with a mixture of worry and affection.

"I thought we agreed you’d take better care of these." He gestured toward the poor state of Lucifer’s hooves, shaking his head in disappointment.

Lucifer blinked, caught off guard by Adam’s sudden shift in tone. For a moment, he tried to brush it off, shrugging with a playful smile.

"Oh, it’s nothing, Addie. I’ve just… gotten caught up in the freedom of not having to wear those pinching boots all the time. You have no idea how much those things hurt! They’ve been forcing me into them for so long, and now, being barefoot is such a luxury," he said, trying to make light of it.

Adam’s frown deepened, though his expression softened as he listened. He did feel for Lucifer—the thought of him being forced into uncomfortable boots, no doubt by Heaven’s expectations, made his heart ache. But still, he couldn’t ignore how sore Lucifer’s hooves looked.

"I get that, really," Adam murmured, his tone gentle as his fingers grazed the fur near Lucifer’s legs.

"But look at them, Luci… They look so sore." His voice dropped to a near whisper as he asked, "Are you still in pain?"

Lucifer hesitated, his bravado faltering. His cheeks flushed a soft pink, and for the first time in a long while, he seemed bashful, almost shy. He glanced away, his golden eyes flickering with embarrassment.

"I… I don’t really know how to take care of them properly," he admitted, his voice much quieter now. "It was easier when I could just wrap them up and give them a quick rinse in the shower. I guess I’ve never really given them much thought."

Adam hummed in response, his mind already shifting to a solution. Without another word, he patted his lap and gestured for Lucifer to rest his hooves there. "Come on, put them here. Let me help."

Lucifer’s heart skipped a beat at the offer. He stared at Adam for a moment, his breath catching in his throat. Something about the gesture—so simple, so kind—made his chest tighten with a feeling he didn’t quite know how to express. His love for Adam swelled in that instant, but instead of saying anything, he blushed a deeper shade of red and awkwardly shifted to lay his hooves across Adam’s lap.

The tenderness in Adam’s eyes as he carefully took Lucifer’s hooves into his hands was almost overwhelming. His touch was gentle, his fingers soft as they caressed the fur framing the hooves, brushing away any dirt or stray bits of Eden’s soil. Adam moved with such care, as if he was handling something precious, and Lucifer couldn’t help but blush harder, his heart racing with every delicate movement.

"You're always so gentle," Lucifer whispered, almost to himself, as Adam continued to attend to him.

Adam smiled softly, his focus never wavering as he carefully began cleaning the hooves, using the edge of his sleeve to wipe away the grime.

 "You deserve it," he said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I hate seeing you in pain."

Lucifer’s chest tightened again, a warmth spreading through him as he watched Adam work. The human’s fingers moved with such care, cradling each hoof as if they were something sacred. Adam’s thumb lightly grazed over the tender edges of Lucifer’s hoof, smoothing over the ridges with a touch that sent shivers up Lucifer’s spine.

He didn’t know what to say, his usual playful confidence slipping away in the face of Adam’s kindness. All he could do was watch, his golden eyes softening, his body relaxing into Adam’s touch.

"Does that hurt?" Adam asked, glancing up at him with concern as he gently brushed more dirt from the hoof.

Lucifer shook his head, feeling oddly shy again. "No… It feels nice, actually."

Adam’s smile deepened; his gaze warm as he returned his focus to cleaning. He worked slowly, methodically, making sure to tend to every detail. The way he handled Lucifer’s hooves was nothing short of reverent, like he was tending to something far more delicate than the fallen Archangel’s battered feet.

Lucifer’s heart swelled even more, and he swallowed hard, trying to keep his emotions in check. He wanted to say something—to tell Adam how much this meant to him, how much he loved him for this—but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he just watched in quiet admiration, feeling the love deepen in his chest as Adam’s fingers worked their magic.

For the first time in a long time, Lucifer felt vulnerable in a way that didn’t scare him. Adam’s touch made everything feel okay, made him feel cherished in a way he hadn’t realized he needed.

When Adam finished, he looked up at Lucifer, his eyes soft and filled with care.

"Better?" he asked, his voice quiet and soothing.

Lucifer smiled, his cheeks still a little pink as he nodded. "Much better, Addie… Thank you."

Adam leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to Lucifer’s knee, right above the scar. "Anytime, Luci. You just have to ask."

Lucifer’s heart fluttered again, and though he didn’t say it, in that moment, he was sure of one thing—he was hopelessly, completely in love with Adam.

Adam’s fingers continued to glide gently over Lucifer’s hooves, the warmth of his touch soothing the fallen angel. After a few moments, Adam finally broke the comfortable silence, his voice soft but curious. “Why do you think your hooves are so ugly, Luci?”

Lucifer shrugged, his golden eyes flicking away in that familiar, dismissive way.

“Because they are ugly, Addie,” he muttered, as if it were an obvious fact.

Adam pouted, his heart aching at how casually Lucifer put himself down. Shaking his head, he caressed the arch of one hoof with deliberate care, his thumb brushing over the tender fur surrounding it.

“I don’t think they’re ugly at all,” Adam said quietly, his gaze unwavering. “They’re beautiful.”

Lucifer scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping him.

“Beautiful? You must be joking.” He frowned, his voice growing harsher as he insulted himself. “I mean, look at me. What kind of archangel has hooves for feet? I look like some cheap knock-off, a twisted version of what I used to be.”

Adam fell silent for a few seconds, his emerald eyes glancing down at Lucifer’s hooves as he absorbed the angel’s words. Then, quietly but firmly, he spoke. “Probably the kindest one.”

Lucifer blinked, caught off guard. His gaze snapped to Adam’s face, searching for any sign that he was teasing or being sarcastic.

“You… really think I’m kind?” he asked, his voice softening in disbelief.

Adam chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully before nodding. “Yeah, I do. I think you’re the kindest one, Luci. Sure, you’ve made mistakes—we all have—but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re kind.”

He paused, his cheeks flushing slightly as he continued, “And honestly… I think you’re even more beautiful now than when you were an Archangel.”

Lucifer stared at Adam as if he’d just heard something impossible, his eyebrows raising in shock.

“Are you serious?” he stammered. “You can’t mean that. I was the most beautiful when I was an Archangel of the Lord. Look at me now—I’m just a step down. A cheap imitation of what I once was.”

Adam felt his face heat up, shy and a little embarrassed to admit what he’d been thinking for so long. He glanced away for a moment, before finally looking back at Lucifer with sincerity in his eyes.

“I… actually prefer you like this,” he admitted, his voice almost a whisper. “I find you… very attractive. More so now than when you were an Archangel.”

Lucifer gaped at him, his mouth hanging open in shock.

“You—what?” He blinked several times, gawking at Adam as if he couldn’t believe his ears. “You’re not lying?”

Adam met Lucifer’s gaze head-on, his emerald eyes filled with honesty. “Why would I lie about that?”

Lucifer sucked in a sharp breath, his face flushing a brilliant shade of red as he struggled to process Adam’s words. Slowly, he nodded, his heart racing. He knew Adam wouldn’t lie to him about something like this.

But the compliment felt strange, foreign. Lucifer’s golden eyes grew distant, misted over as he allowed himself to be vulnerable.

“I… hate myself, you know,” he admitted quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I hate how I look now. When I fell, and I woke up like this…”

He gestured vaguely to his changed form, his claws, his hooves. “It was hard. Maybe I could’ve gotten used to the hooves if that was all, but it wasn’t. I woke up with claws, horns, and then there’s the fucking tail…”

At the mention of a tail, Adam perked up, his eyes dropping to Lucifer’s hips as if expecting to see it. “Wait… you really have a tail?”

Lucifer pouted, folding his arms across his chest in frustration. “That’s all you’ve got to say?” he grumbled. “Yeah, I have a tail. It’s just as ugly as the rest of me.”

Adam shook his head in disagreement, his expression softening as he thought back. “I always wondered about that… I remember thinking I saw it back in Hell, before my second death, but I wasn’t sure. I thought maybe I’d imagined it.”

He smiled, his gaze warm as he added, “I don’t believe for a second that it’s ugly, though.”

Lucifer snorted, rolling his eyes. “You’re only saying that because you haven’t seen it up close. Trust me, it’s not something you’d call cute.”

Adam tilted his head, his curiosity piqued.

“I wish I could see it up close,” he said, his voice soft and thoughtful. “Why don’t you have it here, in Eden?”

Lucifer blinked, surprised by the question. He looked down at his lap, then back up at Adam. “I assume, like my wings, the tail was part of my powers. It must be tied to them, so I don’t have it here. Same with my horns, I guess.”

Adam’s pout returned, his lips curling into a small frown.

“Aww, that’s a shame. I wonder if it’s just as soft, too,” he mused absentmindedly, his hands trailing over Lucifer’s legs and fingers, as if his touch alone could bring that softness back.

Lucifer’s heart raced at the subtle, almost flirtatious way Adam caressed him. His eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, all he could do was stare, his breath catching in his throat. Adam’s casual admittance—his gentle, open fondness for Lucifer’s body—was almost too much for him to handle. It sent a thrill through him, a mixture of surprise and something deeper, something more dangerous.

But for once, Lucifer didn’t mind. He leaned into Adam’s touch, his heart pounding in his chest, and wondered—maybe, just maybe, he could start believing Adam’s words.

“I wonder what kinds of things you could’ve done if you still had it,” Adam mused aloud, a light-hearted laugh slipping from his lips before he could stop himself.

Lucifer paused, blinking slowly at Adam as his smile turned sly, lips curling in a crooked, playful grin. A flicker of something dangerous and mischievous danced across his features. What kinds of things could he have done? The thought made his heart quicken, and suddenly, his mouth watered at the possibilities. His gaze darkened, molten gold swirling in his eyes as he reached out, fingertips—claws—skimming up Adam’s throat, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He leaned in close, his breath hot against Adam’s ear.

“Oh?” Lucifer’s voice was a low, sinful purr that sent shivers racing down Adam’s spine. “And what, exactly, were you imagining, my sweet Addie?”

Adam’s emerald eyes flew wide, the realization of what he might have suggested hitting him all at once. Heat flushed through him, turning his skin warm and prickly as his pulse hammered in his throat. His face darkened, every inch of him suddenly feeling much too warm under Lucifer’s intense, hungry gaze.

“L-Lucifer, whatever you’re thinking… that’s not what I meant,” Adam stammered, his voice shaky as he tried to backtrack, but it was too late. Lucifer's lips twisted into a wicked grin as he pounced, a blur of mischievous laughter and quick movement.

They tumbled together, rolling across Eden’s soft, golden soil in a whirl of laughter and heat, the earth warm beneath them. Before Adam could even catch his breath, Lucifer’s lips found his, pressing in with fervour and playfulness. The kiss was intoxicating, sweet and teasing all at once, and Adam felt himself melt into it, swept up in the rush of the moment.

Adam barely had time to register what was happening before Lucifer's body was pressing against his, the force of the fallen angel’s playful pounce knocking them both onto Eden’s warm, fragrant soil. The heat of the moment washed over Adam like a wave, his breath catching as their lips collided, unexpected yet electric.

Lucifer’s claws gently grazed Adam’s jawline, sending shivers down his spine as their lips brushed together in a teasing kiss. It wasn’t hurried, but deliberate—like Lucifer wanted to savour every second, every reaction from Adam. His breath was hot against Adam’s skin, the proximity overwhelming, his presence a mixture of danger and comfort all at once.

"Not what you meant, huh?" Lucifer teased, his voice low and sultry as he hovered just above Adam, their faces mere inches apart. His golden and red eyes glinted with a mischievous glimmer, darkened by desire.

"Then what did you mean, Addie?" His voice was a velvet purr, laced with temptation.

Adam’s heart raced in his chest, each beat loud and insistent, as if it wanted to escape the intensity of Lucifer’s gaze. His face was flushed, heat rising to his cheeks and neck, and suddenly every inch of him felt hypersensitive to the fallen angel’s touch. His emerald eyes darted away for a second, unable to withstand the fire in Lucifer’s gaze.

“I-I wasn’t thinking,” Adam stammered, trying to gather his thoughts, but Lucifer’s weight on top of him, the press of his body, made it nearly impossible to form a coherent sentence. His voice faltered, softer now, “Luci… I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Oh, but I think you did,” Lucifer breathed, leaning in closer, his lips brushing the shell of Adam’s ear. “Or at least… I’m hoping you did.”

There was a teasing lilt in his tone, but underneath it, a raw vulnerability that Adam recognized.

Adam’s breath hitched, and he felt a wild heat surge through him as Lucifer's words sank in. His body felt like it was on fire, caught between the pull of desire and the soft pang of affection for the angel above him.

 “Lucifer…” he whispered, his voice barely audible, as he tried to speak through the haze of emotions.

Lucifer's gaze softened for just a moment, his sharp grin faltering as he studied Adam's flushed face. There was a tenderness in his touch now, claws easing off, and he leaned down, pressing a much gentler kiss to Adam’s lips, softer this time, with the kind of care that only someone truly in love could give.

Adam kissed him back, slow and deliberate, his fingers tangling in Lucifer’s midnight fur as he pulled him closer. Despite the teasing and the heat of the moment, this was what it came down to—their connection, the way they fit together like pieces of the same whole. Adam felt the warmth of Lucifer’s body envelop him, the world around them falling away as they lay together in the heart of Eden.

When they finally pulled apart, both breathless and flushed, Adam couldn't help but laugh softly.

"You’re impossible, Luci."

Lucifer’s smirk returned, his eyes glittering with mischief. “Only for you, Addie.”

But as they settled into the quiet of the moment, the heat simmering down, Adam found himself tracing the edges of Lucifer’s hooves again, marvelling at how natural it all felt—like they had always been like this, tangled together in love, teasing words and soft touches. His heart swelled with affection, and despite the teasing, he knew one thing for sure: there was no one else he’d rather be with.

~#~

Hell was a mesmerizing blend of deep blues, purples, and reds, stitched together in a tapestry of shadows and infernal light. The sky was a dusky purple, shrouding the realm in a twilight gloom, with the distant glow of Heaven shimmering far above like an unreachable moon. Wisps of steam curled lazily through the darkened streets, mingling with the acrid scent of sin and chaos. Sinners hurried past, some rushing to their shadowy homes, while others clashed in fiery disputes under the ever-watchful eyes of the city.

In the Ring of Pride, everything pulsed with the raw energy of its sovereigns. Power hummed through the streets like a living heartbeat, the presence of the King and Princess tangible in every corner. Purple and crimson eyes, set deep within the cracked stone of the city, watched intently, surveying all that transpired within their domain. There was an undeniable majesty to the place, a sense of grandeur woven into the very fabric of Hell.

The Hazbin Hotel towered above Pentagram City, a structure of haunting elegance. Its height was dizzying, with countless windows glowing in hues of violet and scarlet, echoing the colors of the Pride Ring itself. Every light beckoned, drawing the gaze of anyone who dared look. The wrought iron gates shimmered like stars against the dark backdrop, while a pristine, dusty white stone pathway wound its way up to the towering golden statue of a goat-dragon—a symbol both curious and awe-inspiring, throbbing with otherworldly energy yet oddly inviting.

Two towers rose from the hotel like sentinels, their designs both strange and familiar. From afar, they might resemble a colossal golden apple and an old-fashioned radio, but up close, it was clear that they embodied the two powerful forces that ruled this domain—rivals in both strength and influence. Their presence crackled in the air, a constant reminder of the duality of Pride.

Adam couldn’t shake the growing sense of regret. The moment he had stepped foot into the Hazbin Hotel, his heart had raced with unease, knowing deep down that Lucifer’s sugary words and honeyed promises were merely a trap. He had spent fifteen long years with Lucifer, trapped in Eden's paradise, and he should’ve recognized the gleam in Lucifer’s eyes—the one that always meant mischief was at hand.

If only he had listened to his instincts, if only he had trusted his gut… he might not be in this precarious position now. Yet here he was, ensnared once more, wondering what fate awaited him in this unnervingly beautiful and treacherous place.

“Aw, come on Addie~” Lucifer purred, running his long tongue along Adam’s throat. “Don’t keep those cute sounds locked away~ I want to hear them~”

He should have known…

Adam flushed brightly from embarrassment. He was pinned upon a queen-sized bed, his wrists held down by Lucifer’s claws. A shudder of heat ran through his vein, tingling through his gut and making his hips arch.

“Don’t you remember what you said in Eden?” Lucifer cooed, leaning back to peer down Adam’s delicious face hungrily. “How you wished I still had it? You wondered what type of things I could have done if I did~”

“I-I didn’t mean this – ohhh~” Adam clenched his eyes shut, waves of pleasure running through him. He crushed his lips together, clanking his teeth together and trying to stifle his moans.

Lucifer whined, nipping at Adam’s lips again. His hips were arched upward, his backside stuck up with his long silk black tail buried between Adam’s thick thighs. The sound of wetness echoed through the room as he purposely moved his arrow-tipped tail against Adam’s wet cunt, rolling it with desire.

“Addie~” he sang, pressing his naked body down upon Adam’s. “Come on baby~”

“Let me hear your adorable song, it’s been so long since I’ve last heard it~”

Adam's eyes sprung open, growing wide with a cry erupting from his throat. Lucifer grinned widely, so wickedly and mean as he began to push the tip of his tail into Adam's dripping wet cunt.

"Is it good? Is it better then you thought it would have been?" Lucifer teased, running his sharp teeth up Adam's exposed throat. He dug them into the bite claim he had immeidately returned to the skin. "Is it everything you fantasied about in Eden?"

"S-So much better!"

Lucifer laughed with victory, beginning to fuck Adam with his tail.

[neteyamslovrr]

Luvv your writing, i hope u can do a aonung x fem reader wherein theres part where she almost died (I guess like neteyam) like maybe in later parts and aonung was super worried and thought she actually died which she did but somehow came back and became absolutely clingy and like guardian or overprotective if ever she get hurt the slightest. Idk how will u write but hopefully u can consider thiss❤️❤️

I'm Right Here

summary:  ao’nung witnessing your near death made him feel hopeless, and he promised to never let anything hurt you again.

1.2k words

──── ⑅*❀*⑅ ────

It all happened so quickly, guns were blazing and the screams of all kinds of life rung through the night sky. You were there to follow Lo’ak as he went to warn Payakan, you didn’t realise this would be the start of a massacre.

You, Tsireya, and Tuk all had begun to creep onto the ship. “Tuk this is a terrible idea!” You whispered as she continued to make her way through the boat.

The boats alarms were flaring as you split away from Tuk and Tsireya. Finding another direction to make sure you could find Kiri. A scream filled your ears as you turned to see Tuk restraining to be tied again.

It was all blur when it happened. You ran so fast you brain couldn’t think. Jumping onto the back of Quaritch strangling him in hopes to get him off Tuk. But it failed miserably.

As he tied Tuk he simultaneously flung you off his back with a hard crash to the ground.

“Y/N!” you heard beside yourself, a worried shriek to keep your consciousness before hissing at the demon in front of you.

Tackling him to the ground he threw you again. “Oh you just don’t stop do you?” He chuckled pulling a gun out of his utility belt.

“Y/N run! Run!” Kiri shrieked. Your legs took off but still not fast enough. Not fast enough to miss the shot he fired.

Pain filtered through your body. If you weren’t so determined to not drown you would have let the pain paralyze you. Floating on the top of the water you quietly called out for someone to help you. The pain was unbearable. A bullet gliding across the top of your ribs was enough to have you scream.

“Y/N! Shit Y/N. Tsireya come over here!” Ao’nung found you barely able to keep afloat. The water surrounding you a red colour inciting worry in everyone.

Ao’nung couldn’t breathe seeing you in so much pain he couldn’t take it. You couldn’t leave him. You weren’t allowed to.

Tsireya came over quickly wearing a horrified look. “She need’s to go back to the village, Mother will help her.” Ao’nung carefully picked you up onto an ilu to ride back to his village.

You started to cough little bits of blood splattering to litter your face. “Fuck Y/N, it’s okay mother will help, I promise.” You cradled into him, your tears staining his chest.

“It hurts Ao’nung, it hurts so much.” Your voice was barely audible, you didn’t want to die, not here, not now.

“It’s okay Y/N its all going to be okay. See we’re here back at the village. Hold on for me okay?” Ao’nung’s comforting words were desperate, almost like he was comforting himself. He screamed for help running to his mother.

Ronal’s face was the same as Tsireya’s when she first saw you. Horrified. The red blossomed throughout your chest decorating your cyan skin.

Ao’nung sat beside you the whole time, he held onto your hand. Begging, praying, pleading with Eywa. He couldn’t lose you, not today, not ever. Ronal did every trick she knew, to bring you back to health. But she could only do so much.

Hour’s pass, and the hours turn into days. The war finished, the Sullys were back but you were still in a coma. Your body was weak, and your skin was pale. The wound had been threaded together by Ronal and your chest rose slowly and shakily.

Everyone tried to convince Ao’nung to leave your side, to get out of the darkness of where you rested. But no one was persuasive enough to convince him to leave you.

He thought if he left you, that you would leave him. Maybe his pleading worked because as he cried into your hair, begging for you to wake.

Your eyelids began to flutter open. The little light filtering through the pod still made you hiss. Ao’nung’s breath hitched. “Y/N? Y/N? are you awake?” He asked immediately holding onto your cheeks. His tears turned into sobs as he saw your scrunched up face and green eyes glowing at him.

“Rough nap I had.” You joked before Ao’nung littered kisses all across your face. Ao’nung swore to himself that he’d never let you get hurt again. He would never ever lose you again.

Months pass and you were fully healed. You could swim, run, walk and laugh just as well as everyone else. But what the shot affected the most was the relationship between you and Ao’nung.

You were promised to each other even before the war. But now that he had almost lost you and he was connected to you by the hip.

Every morning he’d wake next to you and tell you how grateful he was to wake up next to you. He’d constantly come up behind you, hugging you, kissing your neck and whispering sweet nothings. After the shot, any piece of his tough guy exterior was disintegrated by you.

You knew he was overprotective of you before, but now more than ever. He’d guide you down steps, he’d always walk in front of you and when you were hunting he always tagged along. He couldn’t handle the thought of you being injured again.

You were out hunting, Ao’nung lagged behind chatting with Roxto, it was nice to see him relax with his friends. You had the tool in your right hand aimed at a medium sized fish. Pressing the trigger, you let out a pained shout. The device malfunctioned slightly cutting the bottom of your palm deeply.

Your shout immediately got Ao’nung’s attention. The sound of your pained voice brought back deep memories of your body bleeding out and he immediately rushed to were you had risen above the water.

“Y/N, Are you hurt, what’s wrong?, Do you need help?” His eyes frantically looked for an injury, his gaze always wondering down to your scar.

“I’m fine, I just cut my hand.”

“Let me see.” He grabbed your hand and saw the blood gushing out of your hand. For some reason seeing it made him start to tear up. His emotions were a wreck and staring at you hurt, it was a reflection of his worst fear.

Seeing the cut, it made him feel like he couldn’t protect you, just like he couldn’t protect you that day. The feelings of grief and fear hit him like a strong wave as the tears rolled down his face.

“Ao’nung why are you crying?”

“Let’s get you a bandage.” He ignored your queries about his tears until you both reached the shore.

Dragging you back to his tent he still wiping his face. Trying to rid of the evidence that he ever cried.

“Ao’nung stop.” You sat him down, and you sat in his lap. “Why are you crying my love?”

Ao’nung looked into your green eyes, those same eyes he saw almost lose their light that day. With a bandage in hand he slowly wrapped your hand to then rest it in on his heart.

“When you bleed… it reminds me of that day.” Frowning it clicked to why he panicked so much to your blood. “It reminds me of how helpless I was to help you, how I couldn’t do anything but watch you die.”

“But Ao’nung, I’m right here. I’m right here, you haven’t lost me, not yet.”

He let out a sad chuckle mixed into a sniffle. “Yeah.. you are right here.”

Softly you kissed his cheeks were his tears stained his skin. Ao’nung indulged in your presence, calming himself down as he felt your touch.

“I’ll never leave you Ao’nung, I promise.”

──── ⑅*❀*⑅ ────

authors note: hope you enjoyed! this one was rlly angsty. (also that photo of ao'nung is feral)

[auspicioustidings]

Firewatch Part 6

Summary: Things heat up with your and Kyle, and you try to enact your plan.

Words: 2k

CW: Smut, dubcon (explanation in the tags if you want more info and don't mind slight spoilers)

Kyle Garrick was a complete mystery to you. The way he moved around you as if you had known one another forever, small touches gliding across you whenever he was close. The way he pouted cutely when even after putting food out for her, Dosia had no time at all for him. The way he asked a thousand questions and you watched as after every answer he took a moment to file the information away in his head. Your favourite colour, when you had got Dosia, what foods you liked, dream vacation spot, pet peeves and comfort shows. He received every answer with grace even when they surprised him. 

“I didn’t think you’d be into horror” he said with a bright grin, deft hands peeling oranges for the dessert he was making now that lunch was happily bubbling away.

You didn’t mind cooking even if you didn’t have any great love for it, but you were more than content to just sit on one of the stools at the kitchen island and watch him work. The lazy rays of sunlight kept catching him and you didn’t even find you were reluctant to admit to yourself that he was beautiful. Of course he was still happily in those wholesome flannel bottoms and no shirt. Of course.

“I think after the past 48 hours I might have lost my love of it” you answered, as if to remind yourself out loud that this beautiful man cooking your favourite meal for lunch was not someone to fall for. 

It was fascinating to watch him frown and look at you with those eyes all full of apologies and longing. Fascinating and heart wrenching because it really made you feel guilty using him the way you intended. He abandoned the oranges and moved to where you were perched on the stool.

“We saved you luv, you’re safe.”

As if it was the fire that you had found horrifying. Although thinking about it now did make your heartbeat pick up when you remembered that awful choking smoke smothering and blinding you. You didn’t remember much from when you had been fading, too terrified to move towards the doorway when you could see the blaze through it. But you remembered the figure that had barreled through and roughly held your face for a moment in some sort of relief you were alive. You remembered being lifted and the quick flash of heat as you were carried through. You remembered the sky had never looked so beautiful even as grey as it was.

Kyle saw it again, saw you experiencing it in your head. Last time it had happened he had kissed you and had felt his self-control steam out of his ears immediately. You had been in those cute little dungarees then, but now you were dressed in Price’s sweatpants and tshirt and it did something for him. It felt forbidden to touch you when his Captain had so clearly marked you his, and that made the idea all the more attractive. But he fought it, he fought it as much as he could, instead taking your hand in his and smoothing his thumb in soothing circles.

“You are right here, you’re safe. You can breathe,” he said gently.

Stupid handsome boy and his stupid comfort and your stupid feelings. 

“Thank you.”

There was a moment where you just stared at one another and you thought he might kiss you, but he didn’t. He kept himself still but for the thumb rubbing your knuckles. Except for this half baked plan to work you needed him to kiss you. You needed there to be evidence on your body of him for the others to see, especially Johnny. After all the past two times you had been cosy with Kyle it had been him that caught you, him that was mad about it. 

“Kyle…” you whispered, finding that the tremor and neediness in your voice came easier than it should.

He had self-control, but not that much. Not enough to turn down the open invitation you were giving him even if he did suspect that you had some ulterior motive. He wasn’t stupid and you were far from the tame little thing he had imagined you so he didn’t buy the damsel act, but he also wasn’t a good enough man to let you know that when it ran the risk you would give up on whatever plan involved getting him on you. 

He ran his thumb across your bottom lip and you leaned forward slightly to wrap your lips around the digit. You watched his eyes, how they were fixated on watching as your mouth welcomed his thumb and then welcomed two of his fingers when he switched to pressing them against your lips. You swirled your tongue around them, watching his eyes darken.

Honestly you had thought he would just kiss you as a response, not whatever this was. The pads of his fingers massaging orange oil into your tongue was causing a violent flurry of butterflies in your stomach, like you were on a roller coaster during the drop. You hadn't really meant to suckle on them the way you were doing, but it felt instinctual, it felt like you needed to see the bobbing of his Adams apple as he had to swallow thickly at the feeling of your tongue on his fingers.

You just stared at him as he withdrew his fingers and looked at you, both of you flushed. His fingers were glistening with your saliva and he made no move to wipe them off.

"Tell me I can use them."

You thought your heart might have thudded hard enough to smash into your ribcage as you nodded shakily.

"Words luv."

He was being serious you realised. He really wanted to make sure you were enthusiastic in your consent. The man who had, with his team, kidnapped you and faked your death, wanted you to be enthusiastic in your consent. Fuck it was hard not to like him.

"You can use them," you said, voice cracking. He stared at you and waited, obvious that he wanted more than that. "You can use your fingers on me, I… Kyle please, want you to."

And you did. You did want him to. Before you could process that little fact and feel the mortification from having said it out loud, his fingers still wet from your saliva had slipped into the waistband of the sweats you were wearing and dragged straight from your entrance to your clit. He got even closer to you which let you drop your head against his chest and just pant, focusing on trying not to get overwhelmed. 

It was difficult, it was so difficult. Kyle was spectacular with his fingers, playing with you softly enough that you were biting back little whines and begs for him to do more. If the fact that this was actually doing fuck all to leave a physical mark on you came to your head, you fully ignored it. If the fact that one of the hands you had clinging to his bare chest moved down to feel him through the fabric of his pants then you ignored that too. God you wanted to see if you could take him, he felt big.

“M’going to, come on luv, tell me I can” he said into your hair as his fingers teased at your entrance, looking for permission to sink them into your heat. 

When you just mumbled incoherently he pressed his thumb to your clit and drew delicious circles with it, getting you insanely close to the edge and then slowing again and again. 

“Words, need words.”

“I-I- fuck please. Ok please? Just fucking finger me already!”

You were near shouting at him and horribly embarrassed at the words that had snapped out of your mouth. How long had it been since someone else touched you like this? The hand you had on him slipped under his pants to really feel him, start pumping at that hot velvety cock that you knew would fit perfectly inside you. It would be a stretch, especially after so long, but fuck you wanted it so badly as his fingers finally speared into you, making you cry out pathetically against his chest. You were enjoying this immensely, but you tried to cling onto the last shreds of your plan. Kyle needed to like you, you needed to turn him against the others. And honestly if he did run away with you, would it be so bad to give in and stay with him?

Kyle may not have had the self-control to leave you be, but he was patient and could take it torturously slow. He was glad your face was buried as it was, not able to see the feral little grin he had at how out of control you got. You probably didn’t even realise that you were going fast and hard at his cock, getting him close enough that he knew he’d wind up cumming first if he didn’t stop you. It was fucking beautiful how you were wriggling in the stool, fucking yourself down onto his fingers and making circles with your hips to get more friction from his thumb on your clit. When he crooked his fingers inside you the strangled noise you made was music to his ears. He wasn’t intending of cumming first, was fully about to make you slow down, but then you gave yourself away.

“K-Kyle! Please, I- I don’t want the others to touch me, just you. I’m yours.”

So that was your game. Honestly he felt a little bad for you with how poorly put together this little scheme was. You were barely able to even commit to the words, clearly not really caring fully about what you were saying but forcing yourself to say it nonetheless. He slid his eyes to the window, locking them with Soap and Price outside with mischief clearly on his mind. He had noticed them arrive when you had been tumbling into flashbacks, had given them a small shake of the head to indicate they should hold off coming in and let him handle it. They wound up getting quite a show with how loud you were. Price only rolled his eyes at how dumb he found your attempt to sow discord between them and lit a cigar, turning away. Soap grinned, clearly delighted with the ammunition they now had, fully intending to watch the end of this little show.

“Say it again luv, who do you belong to?”

Hearing you sob out his name while wearing Price’s clothes, while he had his eyes locked with Soap outside, that had him groaning and cumming messily into your hand. And then without much ceremony he pulled his fingers out of you and took his hand back, stepping away from you. 

You were wildly confused at first, left panting on the stool with one of your hand sticky from his cum and your whole body a live wire, desperate to finish. The confusion turned to white hot anger when he smirked at you, clearly not intending on finishing what he started. You went to screech at him when you heard the door open, whipping your head around to watch Johnny swagger in. You caught a glimpse of cigar smoke, oh God Price was out there.

Without even acknowledging you Kyle held out his fingers and Johnny walked over to suck your arousal off of them with a delighted little groan. You could not fucking breathe watching it. And when Johnny turned to you and delicately put a hand to your throat, growled into your ear, you thought your heart might have stopped.

“Stupid wee bonnie thing, your naw going tae cum until ye get permission from every single one of us.”

Just like that the heat of him was gone with a little warning squeeze to your throat and him and Kyle were discussing what was for lunch. They laughed jovially about the state of Kyle, Price finally coming in and telling him to go clean up while him and Johnny sorted the rest of the cooking. They were so comfortable around one another. Oh, oh this plan was never going to work was it?

You sat, wet and miserable and angry, trying to figure out what the fuck you were going to do.

[hyunsvngs]

Omg I did not expect that last post to get so many likes. I have found my piss kink brethren and Juno is our queen haha

I got so excited I mayy have written another one, with Hyunjin this time. Apologies for bombarding your inbox but what do you think? Should I keep going and write more?

---

"Hyune?"

"Yes, my love?"

"Can I take some pictures of you?"

You're a photographer so it's only natural for you to notice and capture beautiful sights, and - in your professional opinion - there is nothing in this world more beautiful than your boyfriend.

Hyunjin, however, has always been shy about letting you photograph him. He's laying on his stomach with his long legs stretched out, wearing simple grey joggers and a sleeveless top which shows off the sculpted muscles in his arms. Your eyes linger on the rounded curve of his ass, practically begging to be rubbed, smacked or bitten - you're not fussy. And neither is he.

He lets out a high-pitched groan and buries his bare face in his arms. "Why do you want to take my picture, I don't have make up on."

"You look perfect," you tell him honestly. "You always look perfect. Pleasee baby?"

He's a sucker for praise, he pretends not to like it but you see the colour dust his cheeks and his little smile peeking up through his arms. He finally relents and you run to get your camera.

It doesn't take long for Hyunjin to start enjoying himself. The boy is the biggest exhibitionist you've ever met, he loves being watched by you and it's only when the camera comes out that he gets self-conscious. But you're patient, gently coaxing him to relax, mixing in soft words of encouragement with professional directions about the best angles and poses.

You're pleasantly surprised when he pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it aside without prompting. He bites his plump lips and gazes up at you, his boldness masking the raw vulnerability underneath. Your eyes roam hungrily over his smooth chest and stomach, his rosy nipples and the dark trail of hair disappearing beneath his joggers.

A whimper from Hyunjin pulls your attention and he suddenly presses his thighs together.

"What is it baby?"

Hyunjin only shakes his head, appears to debate with himself for a moment, and then hooks his fingers into his waistband and pulls his joggers and pants down in one go. His gorgeous lean cock springs free and this time it's your turn to whimper.

He immediately presses the heel of his palm against his cock and lets out a louder, more desperate groan. That's when you remember the huge glass of water he drank earlier and realise why he's squeezing his thighs together so tightly.

"Do you have to pee baby?"

Hyunjin's face blazes red and he ducks his head shyly. "Yes."

"Are you going to pee for me?"

This is unchartered territory. Hyunjin has masturbated for you before, tugging his achingly hard leaking cock while you watch until he sprays come all over his stomach - but he's never pissed himself in front of you.

"I-I want to," he admits. "But I'm embarrassed. It's so dirty."

"I like you dirty."

This pulls another whimper. He's gripping the base of his cock so hard you can tell he's about to burst. A small spurt of pee splashes over his hand, as if he can't help himself, and he gasps - half relieved, half mortified.

"Yes that's it, my dirty boy" you tell him, your fingers slipping into your own soaked panties. "Let go."

Whether it's the sight of you touching yourself for him, or because he simply can't hold it any more Hyunjin releases his bladder. An arc of pee gushes from his cock and splashes up onto his stomach while he throws his head back and curls his toes. The man even pisses beautifully.

It's the sexiest fucking thing you've ever seen, but suddenly seeing it isn't enough.

"Stop."

His head snaps up. "W-what-"

"I said stop, Hyunjin."

He obeys, albeit with a cry of discomfort. You know he wasn't even halfway done. You strip yourself naked and walk over to him, abandoning the camera in your fevered need to touch him.

You crawl into his lap, balancing yourself on his hips and pressing your dripping pussy against the tip of his cock. Hyunjin's breath hitches as he realises what you're about to do. He grabs you and pulls you against him.

"Baby, are you sure? I can't hold it-"

"Please Hyune." You brush the hair back from his sweaty forehead. "I need it. I need to feel it inside me. Want you to piss in me, please love."

That's all the warning you give before sinking down onto his cock. Hyunjin screams with pleasure and you feel him erupt, filling your pussy with delicious warmth until it's so full his piss spills out over both of your legs.

He clings to you the whole time, alternating between loud moans and capturing your lips in desperate kisses while his body trembles beneath you.

It feels so unbelievably good you think you might actually pass out. By the time he finally finishes, you're both shaking and so turned on that he doesn't even pull out - he just fucks you hard until you come screaming his name.

-😺 anon

THOUGHT I WOULD POST THIS RN CAUSE I JUST HAD AN ANON ASKING DOR MORE FROM U… SO SEXYYYYY U R INSENANDNEE

[meepmoopdraws2]

These are my rushed thoughts for the people who are anti-gay Eddie as someone who wholeheartedly believes that he is.

The main argument I see against supporting Eddie Diaz as a queer-coded character, and or that his arc isn’t right to evolve in the direction of making him canonically gay comes in several different shades of “we need to see more healthy platonic relationships between men represented in media.”

That sentiment holds value, and it holds weight because it’s accurate. There is no way to negate the need to see that kind of representation or to seek it out within the characters, or stories we love the most.

The root that leads the search for that kind of representation stems from the real societal pressure that in order for men to be man-enough they should throw their hands up in surrender to society’s void and walk its narrow path. The rusty warnings along the way deem that a fall is deadly, that in a blazing fire it is safest to breathe smoke; that should another man intervene and hold an extinguisher to those flames it works best at a distance. Walk alone, walk far, hold on but not too tight.

Stand at attention. A strong man does not weep. A strong man will provide. A strong man knows God’s name. A strong man shouldn’t feel too deeply. Won’t feel too deeply. Can’t feel too deeply. A strong man will do what’s right, and what needs to be done.

Eddie’s characterization is vast. The show explores the layers that make up each individual piece of his identity, and with each passing year it uncovers more of what he’s tried hardest to bury.

Eddie is a man who grew up navigating that path, walking it over and over until its direction was nothing but wishful thinking-hoping it’ll carry him far enough and muscle memory-that it will regardless. Such a rigid path would let him continue onward should he find his eyes shut. A walk might not find itself a tedious task until its direction is challenged, and Eddie is a man who walks forward. This is a man who’d crawl for miles before stopping to acknowledge his hands and knees were scraped raw.

It’s a ‘manmade’ path. A path carved through repetition. At any cost he was always going to walk forward in complete darkness.

Eddie wouldn’t stop until he finally had visual of the curves in his path-curves someone had created trailing by his side. What could slow his stride other than that which holds Eddie’s heart sane?

His son is perfect-his son will always be perfect. He’ll grow up to be a strong man. Shouldn’t feel too deeply. Can’t feel too deeply. Won’t feel too deeply.

What is it that holds Eddie’s heart sane?

What is it that makes a man strong?

The hardest moments on the show come when Eddie questions how he could ever call himself a man if he were let his son trail that narrow path behind him, and when he realizes how long he may have been.

This is a man who spent his entire life conforming to fit the wrong definition of strength and man whilst equating the two. Every step he takes to fit a certain narrative weighs him down and sends cracks up the walls he has relied on so heavily to stand tall. Though with every shockwave those walls are bound to cave in.

When Eddie moved away from home he finally found footing in a few different directions. Choosing love slowed his pace. Watching his chosen family in colour could stop him dead in his tracks.

There is beauty in vulnerability. To share love, light, and laughter; to cry, scream and hurt. To have someone, illuminate the best parts of life, and dim the worst. To watch the people he cares the most about exist freely and proudly. To change and regress and grow and change again. To find truth through the broken and mended shards of love that others hold still for him when he can’t find his grip.

Bobby and Michael; Chimney and Bobby; Bobby and Eddie; Eddie and Chimney, Buck and Chimney; Buck and Bobby; Albert and Buck; Chimney and Ravi; Eddie and Buck.

“We need to see more healthy platonic relationships between men represented in media.” Its found in a blended family, its found in chosen family, its found in brotherhood, and its found in partnership, its found in friendship.

To open and close and open again. To bury and uncover and bury, bury deep. To see clearly, find hope and take on change. To know love as unconditional. To realize what you know is no longer what you see. To know that the path you’re expected to walk is not what makes you who you are. That rather, the life you choose, the people you choose, the hearts you hold closest are inherently what carve out what makes up your own.

To see “healthy platonic relationships between men,” and know that it doesn’t change who they are. That the best relationships will only uncover deeper parts of yourself including the ones you didn’t know you were allowed to show. Because, what if being vulnerable doesn’t make you a certain way… what if it just shows you how to be true?

Using that kind of representation against the widely held head-canon that Eddie Diaz is queer-coded becomes homophonic rhetoric when it is found through dozens of men who love, and respect one another without any romantic undertone. To turn around, and actively put the continued search for that representation on the narrow path you fight against is where MY issue lies.

Eddie Diaz is a man who is still walking forward continuing to carve out a path that is bound to crumble.

To uncover the beauty in truth and error. To find connection with other men, and find closeness with another man. To watch the exploration and normalcy of love. To uncover that there is no set path. To know he gets to be who he is as he is, that trying to fit a certain narrative will only ever break his heart over and over and over again. Eddie can find his truth, but he’ll find it when he realizes it’s always been present.

What if uncovering the truest parts of himself doesn’t make him gay? What if he has a close vulnerable relationship with his best friend and it doesn’t make him gay? But what if after everything he’s shoved down and repressed and unmasked-what if he so happens to be gay? I would think that doesn’t mean he’s not man enough anymore? If Eddie were to realize he had fallen in love with his best friend does that mean that their vulnerability shared platonically in the past didn’t count? Does Eddie being gay mean his journey to find what it is to be a man is void? Does Eddie’s potential queerness eliminate the past elements of platonic vulnerability on the show? Did Buck’s?

There is beauty in vulnerability but the best man knows there is power in acceptance.

Accepting others. Accepting yourself. Accepting the truth as it comes.

If that truth is queer-coded to such a large demographic why is it so unsettling?

A man’s journey to find what it means to be strong despite the void of society’s narrow path is not devalued by his potential queerness.

[avielex]

Ashes

[POV: Jordan / Professor Budd, twelve years after Protego Diabolica.]

Part 1 of 3

I didn't think I'd have it happen to me.

Then again, there were many things I didn't think I'd have, about ten years ago.

Getting to teach an elective class was one of them. Getting a flat chest was another. Getting to have both things in the same lifetime and getting to enjoy my new everyday, though? Yes, each day is always going to be yet another test to how good these actually are (as I remember from experience, kids get bored fast), but I strive to say yes each time. Always.

Well, for an elective, kids sure get enthusiastic in my classroom, so I'd say it's been a yes from the soul for most of those days.

But I'm worried of having to say no.

"Look up here, everyone."

"In front of you will be a visual of which colour of Muggle fire will be for its heat level, from coolest to hottest. If at any point you see fire being produced by a Muggle devices and you see the hottest colour, please! Please keep away for the sake of your souls. And your pretty faces."

I heard a couple chuckles.

I'm not sure I remember the pipeline of thought I had prior to this lesson. It was going to be simple enough: The science of heat. The principles and interactions of that heat with other things. If wizards will setting fire to a lot of things for whatever reason, then I better give them a reason to consider the things fire can really do and be.

Blazing hot. Beautiful. But dangerous.

Much like the eyes of Mr. Gillebrand here, a fifth-year Slytherin — unwavering from every motion I made in front of the class. He's always been a pretty focused guy, perhaps occasionally tunnel-visioning into what he sees right, but his friends behind him there I could trust to give him a much-needed bonk here and there too.

Mr. Gillebrand — oh, it doesn't matter here, we're bloody friends — Trey's observant. Always been, maybe too much so. If anything, that day, he must've seen some sort of reason to watch me extra closely during that demonstration. And I hate to say it, but he might've had the right idea.

No. Not that.

He might've already had an idea.

"As we'd discussed in the lecture last time, we'd have to invert our perspectives of these colours when we look at natural or Muggle fire," I continued, in spite of Trey's gaze digging into my face. "What colour's our coldest again?"

A deep scarlet flame hovers at the tip of my wand. The class choruses "Red".

"Getting hotter."

An orange ember, with the chill colours of a sunset. Some people called it yellow, some orange. For some of the kids I noticed to have stayed silent, this would probably be one unfortunate way to find out you're colourblind.

"Hotter still."

A "Yellow" as golden as the softboiled yolks at the Great Hall's breakfast table.

"And hotter?"

As "White" as the wisps that trail off the tattered ends of our castle ghosts' long clothes.

"Right, at the center here," I said, pointing at the white center of the flame bursting from my wand. I flick it off with a wave, a little column of smoke ghosting from the tip of my wand as I continued to speak.

"Now, it's hard to find this hottest colour of fire in nature." I hold my wand out again. "I'd discussed before that fire needs fuel and oxygen to burn. That fuel can vary from wood to clothes to... really, a lot of things, including gas. Muggles have learnt to contain some of these gases as fuel for cooking, and the flame it produces at complete combustion is..."

I flicked my wand—

And that was where I had it happen to me.

[OC CREDITS, behind Trey: Azi (left) by @praxieserver , Leshi/Snakey (right) by @cindyvonotakuuwu ]

[mellowsadistic]

Mindy wailed and thrashed as her Nanny spanked her forcefully, aiming for the top of her thighs, what little of her bottom that wasn’t protected by her thick, crinkly, heavily loaded naptime nappy.

“Bad girl, Mindy!” Nanny scolded, “Very bad girl! You do not yell at Nanny, and you especially do not complain about your treatment!”

“Ow! Ow! Ow! STOP IT!” Mindy cried.

“You need to learn your lesson, little girl, “ Nanny continued sternly. “Your loss of night-time bladder and bowel control is a good thing. Waking up with a soaked and stinky diaper sagging from your bottom shows that our regression training methods are working.”

“But I don’t want them to work!” Mindy shrieked. “I don’t wanna be some big baby freak!”

Nanny’s arm began swinging down with all her might, smacking against the skin of Mindy’s rapidly reddening bottom with so much force that the girl’s squealing doubled in volume. “BAD GIRL!” she shouted. “VERY BAD GIRL! You’re here to be punished, young lady! The court sentenced you to four years as a two-year-old, but since you were too proud to allow your boyfriend to treat you accordingly, he had no choice but to enrol you here! State-run discipline nurseries have a 100% success rate at putting regressed girls in their place, and you’re not going to be any exception, missy! A big baby is exactly what you’re going to be!”

“OW! OWIE! PLEASE!” Mindy begged, tears streaming down her face. Her bottom hurt so badly. She didn’t even know what she was begging for. For the spanking to stop? For her adulthood back? To be let out of the discipline nursery and get sent back to her loving boyfriend? How could she have pushed him to enrol her here? If she could turn back time, she would. Who cared if she had to live like a two-year-old, to have her boyfriend change her wet and messy nappies, to have him feed her and bathe her and burp her like a baby, if this was the alternative? Spending her time playing with baby toys and dancing along to toddler songs, and spending hours a day gazing into those screens, swirling colours and faint music that infiltrated your head and whispered to you.

Mindy could never remember the exact words, but the results were clear. After a few days she noticed her bladder and bowel control beginning to weaken, her hands becoming slightly uncoordinated, her walk turning into more of a toddle – and when she’d asked the nursery staff if it could be reversed, they’d only smirked at her.

And now she’d woken up from her nap to find her nappy absolutely drenched, and worse, packed with a yucky mess that she certainly didn’t remember making. The evil bitches at the discipline nursery had turned her into some kind of oversized two-year-old who filled her diapers in her sleep!

“Once we drop you off with your boyfriend at the end of your training, you’ll be a completely different girl!” Nanny said happily, not letting up with her furious swats. “Just like your little friends that are almost done with their conditioning!”

Mindy sobbed and screamed and kicked her legs over her Nanny’s lap. She couldn’t become one of them. She couldn’t! Not those dim-witted baby-women she shared the nursery school with, the diaper-dependent losers with their adult minds still more or less present, but so heavily conditioned with spankings and hypnosis and all the other foul training methods the nursery employed, that they may as well have had their personalities reverted back to toddlerhood – nothing but babbling, screeching, pants-wetting babies in the bodies of beautiful young women.

Mindy wanted to fight it. She couldn’t think of anything worse than ending up like one of them. But it was hard to think straight when her bottom was blazing like it was on fire. She couldn’t help herself. It was just too horrible! She wanted it to stop! She needed Nanny to stop!

“I’m sowwy, Nanny!” she wailed, hating how easily the baby talk came to her. Another gift of the hypnosis programs. “Baby was just cwanky ‘cause she did a poo-poo!” She cringed with shame as she said it, but she knew it was what Nanny wanted to hear. She wasn’t complaining because she was being turned into an oversized toddler who waddled around in full Pampers all day. She was just being cranky. “Pwease, Nanny!” she sobbed.

And then, mercifully, Nanny did.

“That’s a good girl,” she cooed, her voice soft and sweet, but with a definite note of condescending satisfaction. “What a good baby. Well done for taking your punishment, little Mindy. I’m sure you’re right. You were just being a little cranky because of your yucky, stinky nappy! But I’m afraid I’m not going to change you anytime soon, sweetheart. Babies need to get used to being in full diapers. You need to learn that you’ll be changed at an adult’s convenience, not when it’s convenient for you. Is that clear?”

“Yes Nanny,” Mindy whimpered.

“Good girl! Now let’s get you over to the playroom. We’ve got some lovely programs for you to watch this afternoon. Isn’t that nice?”

Mindy sobbed and sniffled, but didn’t resist as she was led off to sit in front of the television in the nursery’s main room alongside all the other infantilised women, to stare into the screen and allow herself to slip further and further into her new life.

[arshifiesta]

Welcome to Arshi Fiesta!

Phati-sari's aur Sanka Devis, hum tumka forgetyay naahi gaye hain! Hum toh ee lobhbirds ko surprisewa deve ke khatir tumka bulawat hai! Samjheev? Ab ee ka baat padho, e khoon bhari taang kaa introductionwa likh ke gayi hai dekho to jara👀

Theme Introduction: Colours of Love!

If you didn't know already, "Satrangi Re" is a song from the movie Dil Se which is based on the concept of seven stages of love depicted in Arabic Literature. Each stage is denoted by a color so let's look at Arshi's story through these colours!

1. Black for Attraction (hub)

The song starts with a hauntingly energetic tune (spooky!) and we weave through a maze of passages till we finally meet our protagonists. Quite like how Arshi started out as strangers who didn't look like a compatible match initially until all the pieces of puzzles fell into its place.

The beautiful lyrics captures the essence of their dhak-dhaks, their initial attraction that exists from their very first meet. They've hated each other, loved each other but have never ever stopped being attracted to one another. As if a magical magnetic force has kept bringing them together over and over again (guess who? Devi Maiyya of course!) 🖤

2. Violet for Infatuation (uns)

Uff, Infatuation inke jaisa toh aur kisi couple me nahi hai, right? The subtle yet lingering touches, intense gaze, impulsive kiss games and everything about their chemistry is absolutely electrifying! No one does infatuation like them 💜

3. Blue for Love (ishq)

Love love love. Love took so long to blossom between them, like a long drawn out fire. Was it blazing or were there only a few embers alight? One could barely tell. Love started from care first. But they could only care once they hurt each other, right? Oh and hurt they did, they hurt each other really bad. But, isn't it only the people you care about who could hurt you? 💙

4. Green for Trust (akidat)

Trust is tricky. Trust takes longer than love. Because you can only trust someone blindly when you love them. From the chain of broken pearls to the soft and patient unwinding of fairy lights... somewhere between that Arshi started trusting each other. And it strengthened when Arnav stepped up to dance with Khushi, strengthened again when despite all evidence against Khushi and Shyam, Arnav decided to confess his love to her... as if it was the last thing he had left to do. And later when he came to know about Garima's past, he trusted Khushi again. Because things aren't always as black and white as they look. Sometimes they're green 😉💚

5. Yellow for Worship (ibaadat)

What is love or partnership without worship? From strangers to enemies to lovers, at each stage Arnav has worshipped Khushi. Taken care of her in ways that she needed, in ways that people around her couldn't. Tangled feelings and arms entwined in one another's. A shower of gifts, a series of intoxicated confessions. Arnav may be an atheist but if he has worshipped someone apart from his family, that's Khushi. Khushi is as good as any religion to him.

6. Red for Madness (junoon)

The first thing when you think of Red is probably danger or hell-fire. And that's right too because the fierce fire they have isn't like any other. It burns and scathes. It leaves scars. It is a mad love. They hurt and insult each other, they shout at each other. Their egos are too big for one another. And when they're done hurting, they love each other just as fiercely too. ❤️

As Aakash ji has nicely put it, "Khushi ji thodi pagal hai na?". Arey Aakash ji, aapke bhai bhi thodi kam pagal hai? (Don't tell him I said that 🫢)

7. White for Death (maut)

Death is not always about dying. Well sometimes it is... like the time when Khushi nearly dies at the cliff and Arnav fin-fucking-ally kisses her but only for CPR 😒. Or when they both pretend to die on stage as star crossed lovers Heer & Ranjha.

But death is also about other things like the death of hierarchy between them when Khushi was no longer Arnav's employee. The end of anger between them during holi after days of fooling each other with farq nahi padta post contract marriage. The end of difficulties in their path (almost) when they were about to get married again, for reals. The death of distance between them, not just physically but emotionally too, when they spend the night at the hut after running away from the goons. Like they literally met at a grave (dargah) for their second encounter, no? 😌🤍

Accha toh tum padh li ho kaa? Haan, toh e par se tumka kachu toh banave ka pade, aage tumko khoon bhari taang hi samjhayegi okayyy?

Ab jao, thoda paani piyo aur humka bhi pila diyo haiin... Bahutay garmi hai aaj🔥 Hello hi bye bye!

Never mind sasuma, you guys! We're here to celebrate toh let's wish the couple first! A very very Happy 13th Anniversary to these two AND every single one of you who has loved them, adored and cherished them at some point!

Tagging the people who liked the introductory post in comments below because it wasn't clear if y'all wanted to be tagged or not oof! :((

Index to prompts here

In case you missed the first post!

P.S. Search #moodboard or #word prompt on this blog to easily find all the prompts :)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Over the Limit

Epilogue for Sweet Treats AU: by character | chronological | epilogues

Warnings: these drabbles will include dark elements such as noncon, control, intimidation, and other stuff that may not be specified. Take this as you chance to scroll by.

Note: I wasn't sure what to do with Steve so...

Please let me know what you think <3

🍹🍹🍹

The lights bleed and the lines skew. The alcohol singes down your throat and blazes across your chest. Your eyes roll back as you let out a satisfied sigh and put the shot glass back on the bar. You smile at Miller, the bartender who knows you by name.

“Another!” You demand playfully.

He clucks and shakes his head, the bottle of tequila still in his hand.

“You think maybe you should have some water, hun?” He drawls in his molasses timbre.

“Pleaseeeee,” you whine and cling to the leather trim of the bar, “I’m being a good girl, Milly.”

“I got a license I needa worry about and you get much tipsier in those heels and your gonna keel over.”

“Perfect,” you chirp, “just what I love.”

He clamps his lips, a look your mother often gave you when she just couldn’t put her disapproval into words. When the words wouldn’t come, her fists definitely would. Your lip twitches at the sliver of memory. The alcohol usually blots all that out.

“Just one more,” you beg. You need to sleep tonight and you’re just not quite at that point.

“Hun,” he repeats.

“Ugh, fine, how ‘bout, I have that water then you pour me another one? Hmm, Milly? You know I love you.”

“Water, coming right up,” he snaps and spins to put away the square bottle of golden nectar.

“Water,” you mouth as you bobble your head sarcastically.

You bat your lashes as the blur of your drunkenness glosses in your eyeballs. You’re warm and fuzzy but not at the edge yet. Miller should know you can handle yourself and your drinks just fine. But you’ll humour him, he did forgive you for that broken light.

He plants a tall pint glass in front of you, condensation beading and trickling down the sides. Jesus, that’ll sober you right up.

“Two shots,” you barter.

“Drink that and go home,” he sniffs.

“You said–”

“You drink that water before you start tryna negotiate,” he retorts. “I’m lookin’ after you. You know that.”

You roll your eyes and take the pint glass. You scowl and stagger around. The bar is busy. It’s never exactly quiet. It’s what you like about it. The colours, the noise, the fervor, it keeps your mind from idling.

The tables are full. You don’t see a single spot free but you don’t want to sit at the bar with Miller hovering like a hawk. You’re not drinking all this water but you can’t get rid of it right in front of him.

You trip on someone else’s foot and barely catch yourself, the water curling over the rim but not spilling. Somehow. You cling to the wooden tabletop as a man stands. His stature has you leaning.

“I’m sorry,” he touches your elbow, “I didn’t see you.”

“Nah, s’fine,” you slur and smile, your cheeks bulbing and eyes squinting, “I wasn’t lookin’.”

“You, uh, need a seat? This place is packed and I got an extra chair,” he gestures back to the table. He leans in with a conspiratorial look, “and I’m pretty sure someone’s waiting to hop on it as we speak.”

He peeks over his shoulder and you follow his line of sight. You can’t see anything but swirling shadows. He’s the only thing your eyes can focus on. He’s handsome and strangely familiar. 

“Sure,” you put the water down, “I’ll hold your seat.”

“Thanks, sweetie,” he drags his hand up your arm before drawing away.

His touch leaves a streak of flame along your flesh. You angle yourself around and plop into the chair. You glare at the water, your most vaunted foe. Hydration is for cowards.

The man returns as you contemplate giving in to Miller’s ploy. You don’t have anything left at home. No vodka, no gin, nothing. Not even cheap beer.

“Righty, all yours,” you go to stand as he takes the seat across from you, “I scared off the vultures, bud.”

“Wait,” he settles into the chair. He looks almost too big for it. “You don’t have to… go.”

“Ah, I mean, you don’t want me hangin’ around. I’m trouble.”

“Oh? And how do you know I’m not trouble?” He challenges.

You scoff at him and his chiseled chin. He’s clean-shaven, his hair is tidy and golden and shining, and his top button is undone to reveal a rather nice chest. You let your lips part as you think, fishing in your mind for an answer. You know him.

“Because, Cap,” you figure it out, “you take care of trouble.”

He cringes and nods in defeat, “busted.”

You giggle triumphantly. “So I know you don’t wanna hang out with the likes of me. ‘Sides, no point stayin’ when all Milly’ll gimme is water.” 

You give a derisive tap to your glass and peek over at Miller. He’s watching. Fuck.

“Really?”

“Says I’ve had too much. Whatever.”

“Oh, well, you know, this stuff doesn’t really affect me but I like the taste of beer. It’s familiar.”

“Mmm, yeah, I get that,” you feel yourself sway and grab the edge of the table to steady yourself. You rub your eyes and yawn, maybe you might just sleep tonight.

“Well,” Steve leans in, “I’m actually stuck at this hotel. It’s got a nice mini-fridge. Fully stocked.”

“Hmm?” You blink at him.

“And I… I’ve been cooped up in there for a week. Alone, so…”

“Captain,” you sputter, “are you hittin’ on me?”

“That depends,” he tweaks a brow, “will you still call me Captain with my hand around your throat?”

You stick your tongue out and think. It’s too good to be true. You glance around at the regulars. What’s he doing in a place like this? Why do you care?

“Does that fridge got tequila?” You grin.

[faustianfascination]

in the stacks

Kinktober 8. Temperature Play | Rough Sex

Words: 2983 Pairing: Faust x OC (ikemen vampire)

Tags: NSFW! MDNI! modern au, rough sex, teacher/student, sex in public, library, oral sex, AFAB reader, rivals to lovers

Notes: Read @yanderepuck's student x teacher fic and between that and being stuck in the library recently for my own research/kinktober brain rot you have nearly 3k words of rough library sex.

It had become a regular spectacle in their weekly seminars, a blazing debate that would both intellectually stimulating as well as genuinely a little terrifying. Who knew that academic disagreements could come this close to blows?

When the grad student TA for their sessions had been announced the expectations had been low, thinking it would be yet another awkward grad student doing his mandatory teaching requirement begrudgingly and pretty much just starting the session then letting them do their own thing. The TA last semester did exactly that, but this time they had Johann Faust, a philosophy and theology grad student who not only actually taught them but actively challenged them at every turn with his disarming charm, acerbic wit and a smug arrogance that was both sexy and deeply infuriating.

For the most part he got on well with his students, he was even the subject of several crushes…with the exception of Miss Persephone Grey. The fireworks began on day one, during an analysis of assigned reading the two began with respectful disagreement on Kierkegaard’s Analysis of Human Existence, which soon descended into a full on debate on Sartre around whether “existence precedes essence”, do we define ourselves or are we pre-defined. For a group of students who were used to quieter discussions and not making a habit of challenging the assigned TA usually due to lack of interest, seeing one of their peers and the TA nearly come to blows was a welcome drama to brighten up the day. The die was cast, Faust and Grey were like potassium meeting water, an explosive but deeply watchable show they got to enjoy each week. The hate between them was palpable. Bets were taken on who would survive the year, the odds currently running at 50/50.

The door to the cupboard he and Charles shared as an office was flung shut with so much force the cat poster Charles had put up fell down. Faust scrambled to lock the door, leaning against it to prevent any visitors. He'd practically run out of the session due to the growing erection that was becoming more and more visible. Now he was against the door he practically tore his trousers open to free it, the throbbing and sensitivity was making his irritation worse. He spat in his hand, this wasn't about pleasure he just needed it out of his system before he exploded. He gripped his cock hard, pumping fast and rough to get himself to climax as quick as possible, his mind was a strange mix of anger and arousal and all he could think about was that woman, that annoying, argumentative woman with her existentialist pretentiousness always having to pick holes in everything he said, always ready for some snarky remark or cutting critique. He was used to being challenged, grad school was basically defending yourself and arguing all the damn time, but this was different. He was good at outmanoeuvring his opponents, her however. She was only a fucking undergrad and yet she comes into his sessions and dares answer back to him? Worse she could pick impressive holes in his argument that no other student would even try. How dare she try and beat him at his own game.

She was infuriating, worst of all her rebellious and challenging attitude turned him on no end. When they were debating back and fourth all he could do is keep looking at those defiant grey blue eyes, those pretty lips with that infernal blood red lipstick she always wore, thinking about how much fun it would be to shut her up by fucking her smart mouth. Seeing that colour smeared all over his cock, making her kneel for him as he pulled that lovely auburn hair and felt it round his fingers. She always wore those damned short skirts showing off those lovely long legs that would look perfect bent over his shoulders or around his waist. Faster he pumped, almost painfully as she haunted his thoughts and soon enough he finished over his hand, letting himself sink to the floor as he panted and tried to regain his composure that she had shattered so well.

It was past midnight and the library stacks felt like a maze as she drifted around them trying to find something to help with the block she had on her essay, it was more frustrating as it was due tomorrow. It was always a strange mix of eerie and peaceful to be this deep in the bowls of the building at this hour; being alone in the philosophy section had become one of her favourite places because she got some much needed solitude. There was a perfect source that would be ideal for her argument. However, she refused to cite that arrogant prick Faust, especially in his own class; he may be an excellent researcher but her pride would not allow him to actually know how much she respected him, even if she'd like to kick him in that smug face too. Many others had started citing his work, both for it's value and to catch his eye; she'd noticed countless classmates flirting with him given the chance and it made her want to punch a wall.

It really wasn't fair. No one gets to be that infuriatingly clever and that attractive. Honestly, when she had first started the classes, she was excited; the material was a challenging puzzle she could not wait to dive into. Staring a weekly battle royal with the tutor had not been her plans but there was just something about him. She couldn't figure out why he got to her so much, but that first session he'd begun discussing Kierkegaard and there was something about him that just made her want to take him down a peg, which considering her lowly status as an undergrad was ridiculous and before she knew it her hand was up, words were coming out and she was ripping his stance to shreds.

It was completely unprovoked but he took it in his stride. She liked arguing with him, he didn't condescend, he fought her like he meant it, she bared her fangs, so did he and it made for something indescribably exciting. It just did something to her, the way he looked at her like he was going to devour her made her want to bite back, hard. It had continued from there and soon that seminar had become her favourite session of the week. Sometimes it continued after, as everyone was leaving, only those two still there going at it like cats and dogs. She remembered vividly how she couldn't figure it out until after one particularly animated session she felt it spark through her body, storming out to the nearest bathroom to find herself wet and wanting. So fired up she ended up getting herself off right in the stall. It hit her hard the realisation that the thrill she got from arguing with him felt like foreplay. She liked that arrogant bastard but like hell was she going to give into that temptation without a fight.

The place was even quieter than usual as it was a Thursday, well now Friday and most people would have the good sense to be out socialising, Persephone not so much. This paper was annoying her no end so alas she found solace here. The smell of fresh paint from the reading room and the musty scent of old paper was in interesting combination as she rifled through various volumes on Kant and Wittgenstein. Why was she being tormented by all these German men? She settled on the floor as she began reviewing Kant's Critique of Pure Reason again to find some inspiration, too lazy to bother going back to the reading room with it's too bright white paint. Persephone had no idea how much time had passed, the sound of footsteps moving towards her as she realised her legs had gone numb. The other person was coming in her direction, so she looked up only to be confronted by a pair of painfully familiar hazel eyes.

"You" she practically growled, Faust finding the indignant scowl on her face more adorable than threatening. He crossed his arms and lent against the shelves

"Miss Grey, studious as ever I see. Working hard on your essay, do you need some assistance. It is my area of expertise after all" his lips curling into a smirk trying to goad her into another argument. It worked.

"Look here you arrogant prick-" she snapped while getting off the floor, only her numb legs were not interested in cooperating with her plan to stand up and face him. Her body lurched as she couldn't steady herself due to the lack of feeling, only instead of falling into the shelves she found herself face first in a warm solid chest, strong muscular arms around her waist to steady her shaky legs. His woody, herby cologne filled her nose and sent a spark of warmth straight through her body. The feeling of his arms around her making her temperature blaze. This felt too good, she wanted to feel more of him, everywhere, inside her.

Their eyes met and the world seemed to fall away left only with his beautiful glasses covered hazel eyes and her building arousal. She needed to get away before the temptation got the better of her. Except before she could retreat his lips crushed against hers, dominating her senses. Her arms instead of pushing him away pulled him closer and she felt herself backed up against the shelves, his tongue pushing into her mouth much to her delight.

As their tongues danced around each other his hands explored her, one drifting down to slip under her skirt and squeeze her arse. It made her moan into his mouth. As revenge, she scraped her fingers over his scalp, down his neck making an effort to leave trails of red, it was just the thing to pull a groan from him. The kissed deeply, pressing their bodies together until there was no space between them, hips rutting and pressing against one another. When he broke apart from her, the sudden loss of warmth made her come back to her senses, or it should have but the sight of her lipstick on his face made her feel even wetter. Before she could gather her faculties, he was pulling her deeper into the stacks, weaving further into the bibliographic labyrinth until he pulled her into a little room buried in the back, so far from the main section the lights barely worked bathing everything in a dim florescent glow.

He practically threw her inside, once he'd secured the door he was back on her again, pressing her body into another set of shelves as he lost the battle with his composure and just let loose. The feeling of her pulling him closer made him go wild, feeling her nails scratching at him made his cock throb. He wanted so badly to just slip his trousers down and fuck her but he wanted to taste her first.

His lips began tracing down her neck, kissing every bit of exposed skin, his hands now squeezing her breasts, feeling her nipples harden under the irritating layers of clothing. She arched under his touch as he pinched one, his other hand starting to slip her panties off. Once the lacy number fell to the floor he knelt down to gather it, looking up at her as he bought them to his nose and inhaled the smell of her desire, making her flush deeply, even more so when he licked the wet spot with a devilish glee before stashing them in his pocket. The sight was intoxicating, but before she could fully process it she felt her leg hoisted up from under her and thrown over his shoulder as his mouth made a beeline for her pussy. He didn't mess around, his lips closing on her clit and sucking hard making her moan his name, threading one hand through his hair and another clinging to the shelf for purchase.

It felt incredible, as he sucked and licked, pushing two fingers deep inside her and mercilessly teasing her sweet spot, making the liquid from her flow faster. Another finger was buried inside her, the feeling of him stretching and scissoring making her buck and ride his face. It didn't take long for the climax to surge through her, making yell his name. She could practically feel him smirking into her cunt.

The sight of his face, covered in her was perfect. Before she could fully savour it, he was back on his feet and their lips were together again, tasting herself on his lips getting her turned on again. The sound of his belt being undone and the fabric moving was her warning before she felt his cock rubbing against her folds, slicking himself up with her. A jolt of pleasure made her jerk as his cock head pressed her clit. He broke the kiss to hoist her up, his arms under her legs forcing them wide open, dangling over his elbows. She clung on to him as she felt him press inside her, filling her slowly, inch by inch. The stretch an indication of his length and girth, it felt good, so very good they both moaned. A string of curses fell from his lips, incoherent but she certainly heard the words 'fuck', 'tight' and her name practically growled by him. When he was fully sheaved, he stilled, enjoying the tightness, the fluttering and clenching of her cunt on him. It was paradise, far better than his own imaginings that he wanted to savour the feeling.

Their foreheads together, joined fully the quiet moment felt almost romantic. Until Faust began thrusting. The first snap of his hips knocked the air from her, hitting so fast and so deep she was dazed, her body biting into the shelves and making the books rattle as he fucked her hard, fucked her roughly in the little room. He pounded into her with such force she was sure bruises would cover her body. It got her even wetter, the mixture of flesh slapping, filling to room with an erotic cacophony of squelching liquid, dull smacks and the shelves squeaking under their fucking. Finally, he was in her, he couldn't hold back driving himself into her deep and fast. She seemed to be enjoying it, he could feel how wet she was, the way she moaned on his cock. Their lips met again, more teeth and tongue as he moved even harder, the sensation of her biting his lip making him rougher. It was a good thing that the library was usually empty this time of night, they weren't exactly being quiet. Thankfully the theology room he was fucking her in was a spot no one apart from him really bothered to frequent.

A sudden thud beside them momentarily interrupted them, both looking over for the source of the noise only to see one of the books had been shaken off the shelf next to them.

"Shit" she said panting, taking the chance to catch her breath. The large leather bound tome had fallen open, Faust casually glancing to it.

"It's only Martin Luther, the floor is a fitting place" he panted out, his face covered in a sensual sheen of sweat. It made her laugh momentarily before he returned to his furious fucking. It didn't take long for his punishing pace to fall out of rhythm, his own climax coming quick pulling out just a streams of semen splattered over her pussy. The sensation of sticky fluid all over her swollen folds feeling satisfying if a little uncomfortable.

They stayed there catching their breath until he let her back onto the ground, her legs even shakier than they had been earlier. Faust tucked himself back in and did his trousers back up, fishing out a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe away his come. The brushing of the fabric against swollen folds making her shudder. She kissed him again, letting her pliant and sensitive body melt into him, and giving her a solid body to steady herself again. They fell into a comfortable silence, enjoying their joint high as they cooled down. He swept her into his arms like a princess, her weary body enjoying not having to move under it's own power as she lent her head on his shoulder.

"We should really pick up that book" she murmured into his neck

"I told you already, Luther belongs on the floor" he said with a disdainful tone, so much so she wondered how the protestant reformer had offended him so.

"Thomas Müntzer fan?" she quipped, his chuckle giving her the all the answer she needed. He carried her back into the maze of the stacks.

"Faust-" "Johann, call me Johann" he interrupted her with a soft gaze she wasn't expecting.

"Johann, I need to pick up the book I was reading earlier" she said as he spirited her past the aisle he'd found her.

"You can borrow my copy of Kant once we're back at my place"

"Back at your place?"

"Of course, you think one round will suffice after a term of teasing Miss Grey?" his voice playful and his eyes still molten with lust, the sight kindling the fire in her core again. True, there was no way one rough fuck would solve the tension they'd built so she sealed his lips with a kiss again, anticipating a long night ahead.

The student's looking forward to their weekly drama were sorely disappointed when another grad student by the name of Charles Henri covered for Faust's session. By chance Persephone was also absent, apparently they'd both gone down with the flu. No one suspected it to be anything other than a funny coincidence.

[wilsons-three-legged-siamese]

Another fic I wrote, it was inspired by Three Days by pleasuretoburn on AO3, so kinda credits to them

My apologies for any mistakes, it hasn't been beta'd as I don't have a beta-

Summery- House and Wilsons experience with Oreos, all the way from when they met, to when one left.

Tw- Swearing, character death

You're the cookie, and I'm the cream.

1. september 14th, 1992.

"Are you 100% sure you hung the bear bag high enough? " Wilson asked, opening the pen lid with his mouth and checking stuff off of his checklist.

"My god, you are the most paranoid person I know, yes! I have hung it high enough, " House scoffed, tieing the knot and slapping it for good measure.

"Good! Or I might have to feed you to the bears, " Wilson muttered through the pen lid in his mouth.

House rolled his eyes and snatched Wilsons clipboard, pen and the pen lid from his mouth.

"Hey! We need that! " Wilson argued.

"Stop being a perfectionist and let's actually make it up the mountain, or we'll stay here for the rest of eternity with the bears, " House retorted, chucking the supplies into the tent and grasping Wilsons hand.

House dragged Wilson up the mountain, the latter kicking and desperately trying to get back to camp. House scolded, just grasping harder and walking faster. Then, Wilson finally submitted, trailing behind House, huffing and puffing.

"Don't sulk, come on, have some light in you! " House exclaimed, letting go of Wilsons hand, walking behind his friend and pushing his back up the hill.

Wilson chuckled, walking faster as House pushed him. House smiled genuinely, giving Wilson a last push. Wilson staggered for a moment, quickly regaining his pace and laughing wholeheartedly next to House - who smirked. They both trudged up the mountain, smiling and giggling at each other's silly remarks.

"Look at this! " Wilson called, crouching next a tree and staring in awe.

House sighed and walked over, "can you stop being a horny dog with pheromones for one minute? "

"No it's a beetle! "

House crouched next to Wilson, looking exactly where he was looking.

"All I see is dirt. "

"No, there! See it just moved, " Wilson claimed giddily.

"Oh that tiny thing? It's as small as the guy I bailed out of jail in 1991's dick, " House muttered.

"That guy was me. "

"I'm aware. "

Wilson rolled his eyes and continued hiking, now dragging House.

They made it to the top, thank Lord. It was beautiful. Wilson stared in awe, looking at the colours of the sky blending seamlessly. Oranges, reds and yellows roamed, clouds sprinkled here and there. The sun still blazed, though slowly moving towards the horizon. House and Wilson took a seat on the bench, taking in the immaculate view. Even House was silent, it was truly breathtaking.

Unfortunately for them, they didn't stay long as the sun had almost set. So, they started their journey 2 miles back down the mountain. They laughed and giggled, hands brushing aimlessly and subconsciously. It was like heaven.

"We should do this more often, " Wilson blurted out, smiling.

"How long do you think it would take for us to fuck if we got stranded? " House questioned genuinely.

"2 weeks. "

"Weeks?! "

"Yeah."

"Your horniness is about the same as a teenage boy! "

"Yours is worse! "

"I give it about 2 days. "

"Okay, fine. Deal. "

They continued to walk, casually shoving each other in the process like little kids who just broke up. Until, House got a little carried away.

House stopped. He put his two hands out and completely chucked Wilson into a bush.

A Holly bush.

House covered his mouth quickly. Wilson toppled over the side and into the bush, wincing.

"Jesus House! " Wilson yelled, trying to get up as quickly as possible.

House chuckled, looking at Wilson.

"You're such an- WOAH! " House called out, tripping on a stick and falling straight into the other Holly bush.

Wilson got up and started giggling at House, holding out a hand for the fallen woe. House took it with a grunt and got up.

"You're such an idiot, " Wilson laughed, picking a few bits of Holly off House.

"Thanks, " House grumbled, plucking some off of Wilson.

Soon they made it back to camp without any casualties. Other than their food.

"I literally told you that you didn't hang it high enough! " Wilson shouted, falling to his knees in front of the mess and looking through it.

"My bad, my bad. "

House crouched beside Wilson, "hey look! The grizzly left the Oreos! "

2. september 15th, 1992.

"I can't believe we have to survive off of Oreos for our 30 mile hike, " Wilson grunted, opening the box and taking out a packet. "I don't even like the cookie! "

House chuckled, "I don't like the cream. "

They both trudged until Wilson took an Oreo, twisted it open and handed House the spare cookie. Wilson scrapped off the cream with his teeth, ate it and handed House the other cookie.

"This is how we're gonna survive, " Wilson declared, doing the same with another cookie.

"Fine by me, " House replied through a mouthful of cookie.

And somehow, they did survive, barely, but survived.

3. june 3rd, 1997.

"How do you manage stuff like this? " Wilson groaned, getting out of bed and trudging to the bathroom with the phone held up by his shoulder.

"Can you just come get me, and bring me something, I'm starving. Okay, thanks, bye Wilson! "

And with that, House had hung up the phone. Wilson sighed, splashed his face with water and began putting on suitable clothes. He put on a random polo and sweats, suitable. He staggered to his car, turning it on and driving to the 24h gas station. Once in, he searched the shelves. Though, everything was empty. Wilson furrowed his eyebrows, continuing to scan the shop until his eyes landed on the holy grail. There it was.

A beat up box of Oreos.

Wilson quickly grabbed it and hurried to the check out, managing to not have a chat with the cashier, and heading to the car again. He sped off, hoping in this time period House wouldn't do another stupid thing.

"What food 'ya get? " House asked, digging through the back seat of Wilsons car.

"Oreos, " Wilson replied with a smirk, pulling the box out of nowhere.

House smiled and took them from his friend.

"How'd you even do this? "

"I was tryna find my elementary school to prove a point to Derrick, you know Derrick! Anyway, I didn't prove my point and I was lost. "

Wilson chuckled, took the Oreos and did what they usually did with Oreos.

4. december 25th, 2004.

"Open your gift! " House exclaimed rather enthusiastically, shoving the gift into Wilson.

"I'm Jewish, we don't do gifts? " Wilson questioned, hesitantly taking the box.

"Hanukkah, han-U-kkah, just open it, " House scoffed.

Wilson looked at House suspiciously. He untied the bow, discarding of the ribbon and ripped the paper. He was met with a box of.. You guess it, Oreos. Wilson chuckled with a genuine smile.

"I guess this is Christmas-Hanukkah dinner, huh? "

"Yes, yes indeed it is. "

5. april 30th, 2008.

"Ahh! My husband! " House exclaimed, walking to Wilson and trying to plant a kiss on him.

Wilson placed his hand in between them, "friends, not husbands. "

House pouted.

The team looked confused at them, deciding to shake it off.

"I packed you lunch, by the way. Thought I'd give it to you, " Wilson declared, handing House the brown paper bag.

"Thanks? "

Wilson walked off with a smirk on his face.

House opened the bag to be met with a box of Oreos, obviously. The bag was way to shaped to be leftovers or a sandwich. House laughed and opened the Oreos, collecting the cream in a small Tupperware and scoffing the cookies.

Wilson found a little Tupperware on his desk with a note.

"For you, my wonderful, sappy husband.

Love, Greggy-pooh <3 xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx"

Wilson giggled and took the note off, the Tupperware was filled with cream with dabs of cookie in it.

Let's say, that note had a special place on the fridge.

6. january 4th, 2012.

"I actually ordered off menu, " House declared, looking at Wilson lovingly.

The server presented a plate of just Oreos.

Wilson chuckled lightly, "great."

Wilson took an Oreo, still giggling, House followed suit.

"I did tell you that you didn't hang it high enough, " Wilson laughed.

"I tell you, the bear did untie my knots, smart bear, " House replied.

"Not so smart because it left the Oreos. "

"You survived 30 miles with only white filling, " House chuckled.

"Black stuff is overrated, " Wilson retorted.

They did the usual, definitely getting looks but, they didn't care. It was a nice tradition.

7. september 14th, 2012.

"Found some Oreos in the fridge, randomly, " House yelled, walking into the bedroom where Wilson rested.

"Hmm.. It's a sign, " Wilson grumbled, trying to sit up.

"How about you try your first full Oreo, it's better than that white, sugary stuff, " House remarked.

"No, I like the sugar. " Wilson smiled sadly.

House took a seat next to Wilson, then layed down with him. Wilson huddled into House, placing his head on the latter's chest. House grabbed an Oreo, twisted it open and ate the spare cookie. He handed the other to Wilson - who weakly scrapped the cream off and shakily handed it to House.

"I love you, House. "

"I-.. I love you too. "

Wilson weakly grasped onto Houses hand.

"I'll drag you up the mountain.. I promise. "

"I'll have a checklist.. "

And then there was silence.

[radskull-69]

ANDYS LOREEE (because he’s my fav)

I’m thinking of changing the whole ‘town got flooded’ idea, and ditched it for more fire then water.

In Andy’s small country town/ant nest he was the only bull ant in the whole town, and usually bull Andy’s were immediately sent to war but the town was so peaceful so there was no need to prepare warriors for war.

was the biggest in the town even as a toddler, but even after being bullied his future wife would stand up for him. Growing up together, he’d help around the hive with the heavy lifting while she help her mum with the larvae.

it was only when they were finally married, had two beautiful daughters did everything fall apart.

Andy left the ant nest to get his wife some red berries, a rarity that the nest couldn’t get since they grew outside. So when he came back with his arms full of berries walking over the little hill he as met with the blazing view of fire.

Screams were so loud that it made his body rattle, standing there uselessly before amongst the screams and yells of the fire ants attacking his home he heard his family’s screams the most.

Dropping the berries he ran on heavy legs to his house, busting in through the door in a panicked frenzy. He snatched a blanket from his bed on the way to the kids bedroom where he could hear his little family hiding in, trapped from the collapsed room.

he wrapped the blanket around them and carried them out with ease, even as he felt his lungs be drowned in toxic smoke. He ran out the house and to the exit of the nest where the survivors of other ants were rushing towards like a stampede.

he unbundled them from the torn fabric, eyes pooling with tears of pure relief when he was able to save them from the fire. But it was short lived when the loud bang sounded out, sounding like nothing he’s ever heard of before.

he watched the world tilt as he fell like a oak tree, falling heavily to the ground as he sputtered. A explosion of mind numbing pain in his left arm, or at-least where it once was.

he heard his family cry out faintly, but the ringing in his ears was too much. He could barely make out the colours of a fire ant approach, some.. gun in there hand. How’d they get it? He didn’t know, no bug, especially ants could ever get their claws on them. And not on one that’d blow his damn arm off

his yellow eyes widened when he could only weakly reach out with his remaining arm to his family, a futile attempt to protect them like he’s always been best at. But it was useless when he watched that vile fire ant use a gun he couldn’t even begin to imagine they got from, shoot right at his family.

and he watched as his children got obliterated in a burst of fire, air feeling too hard to breathe, more so then the smoke.

a wail left his sharp teeth as he leaned on his remaining arm, turning to all he had left, his wife.

but before he could even cry out her name she was shot through the chest, the beam didn’t stop there though. Gone right through her chest and into his eye, a burning bright light of flame the last thing he saw before the second most painful thing happened to him that day. Second to losing everything he loved

and they left him there, assuming he was just another corpse amongst many. And the fire ants left to destroy the next hive.

Andy recovered, physically at least. He kept the blanket he used to save his family all those years ago, the only thing that survived thr attack aside from himself. Even if it was tattered and faded, much like himself.

he knew the fire ants got their fire arms from humans, filthy humans. The fact another ant species would go against their own kind to side with humans all for greed is what mad something ugly spew from Andy’s heart.

he now roams foreign lands and cities, working as a bounty Hunter to keep himself afloat and to have a easy outlet for his rage. Wearing a hat to hide the nasty burn scar over his eye, and the blanket that once gave him comfort as a cape to hide what was left of his missing arm

he wasn’t the same man, vowing to kill any stupid bug, ant or human that got in his way. Of what? He didn’t know. Vengeance was the only thing keeping him going.

until… he met his new friends, or something like that. They don’t stop the grieving he’s been dealing with for years all alone, but they help him heal.

like the pop rocks his kids would give him when he was sick, or when his wife would kiss his cheek whenever he’d come back from a tussle with the bull, Or when his mother would untangle his antennae from the bushes he’d trip into.

so he’d protect this weird as hell group of mismatch bugs even if they make very morally grey decisions.

[kuroneko1815]

Monsters and Treasures in Dungeons Deep

This came from my short walk to the bus stop and written while on the bus. Huzzah to the almighty commute boredom.

Deep in a dark, dusty, and damp dungeon was a monster’s nest. Riddled with the bones of treasure seekers and hapless adventurers who thought to try their luck to find the legendary treasure within the very heart of the dungeon.

On most days, the only sounds that could be heard were the growls and grunts of the monsters, but not today. At this very moment a warrior fought off the monsters, panting through the effort.

“This treasure better be worth it.” The warrior muttered angrily. Robes dirty from the near constant fighting.

Finally the warrior made it to the dragon’s chambers and took a moment to prepare. The dragon was said to be fierce and tyrannical. When the warrior entered the chambers, instead of a treasure guarded by a dragon, there was a man.

She approached the sleeping man. And looked around as though she’d missed the treasure. But there was nothing there.

“What the? I fought through six levels of hell in a dungeon to face a dragon and to earn the most magnificent treasure in the world so where is it?!?” She yelled out loud, turquoise eyes blazing with the promise of death. “Where’s the dragon? Where’s the gold and rubies I was promised?!? Damn you Secretary Porter!!!”

And then she brought herself close to the man, too angry to care about his handsome face or his golden hair and bunched up his shirt as she pulled him up, ready to question him. She raised her other hand and slapped him hard, repeatedly, until he stirred.

“What? Who dares slap me?” The man grumbled as he opened his eyes revealing ruby coloured eyes. “Do you know who I am? I am the dragon prince, Callisto Regulus, crown prince of the Empire.” He said grumpily. “Though I must thank you for waking me up from that terrible sleeping curse my step mother put on me. It was supposed to be broken with true love’s kiss.”

“True love’s kiss who? I slapped the ever living fuck out of you. I guess a slap works just as well.” She said bitterly. “I demand a reward of gold and rubies.”

“How about an entire empire as my empress?” He offered.

“Does that come with a lot of money and fine food?” She asked.

“Yes.”

She didn’t even have to consider it. “Then let’s get married today. I’m Penelope by the way. You may as well know the name of the woman you’ll be trapped with for all eternity.”

“All eternity is it?” He asked with an elegant brow as he reached for the sword at his side and hopped off the gilded altar made into a luxurious bed. He looked at it in disgust.

“I went through all this trouble to get here on the promise of treasure. If you’re going to make me the empress and give me the entirety of the imperial treasures, that’s great. But I also intend to make sure that you don’t replace me with another and make me lose the treasure.”

He snorted as the two fought their way back up the six levels. “I think you and I will get along great. Though if you do take a lover, I’ll end him viciously in front of you.”

“Any concubines you have won’t make it past a fortnight, nor would they ever give you any children.” She vowed, magic setting the monsters in front of her ablaze.

They continued to talk to one another as they went through each level at which point she revealed herself to be the youngest child of the Duke of Eckhart, adopted of course. She made sure to specify that part.

“I need at least one child from you.” He told her absently as he pulled her away from the path of the arrows.

“We need to show the picture of marital bliss. No less than three nights in my room, even if we don’t do anything. I won’t have anyone talk that I’ve fallen out of favour with my husband.” She demanded.

“Right to refuse intimacy.” They both said at the same time.

And then they spoke of the wedding. “Three weeks from today. That should give me enough time to deal with my step mother and half brother, his faction, my father, and plan a wedding.”

“Talk to my father as well.”

“Any thoughts on flowers?”

“Something red, no roses though, or at most, just three or four roses in my bouquet but the rest should be some other flowers.”

“Will you have trouble procuring a dress?”

She looked at him with a wry smile. “I’m an Eckhart. Leave the dress to me.”

By the time they had left the dungeon to where Secretary Porter was waiting eagerly to see his liege, they had ironed out everything from the marriage agreement to the wedding, even to the policies they wished to implement within their first five years.

-

-

In the wake of the Imperial Wedding, Captain Leon Markham would lean in close to his friend, Sir Cedric Porter as he watched the newly risen Emperor wed his Empress and get crowned together. The Emperor’s half brother was put on house arrest after being found to be too dishonourable, his mother imprisoned, and his entire faction dissolved. The former Emperor was glad to be rid of both crown and wife and went merrily on his way to retirement.

“Did you really have to choose her?” The Captain asked incredulous. The new Empress’ reputation as an Iron Lady was well known, he worried that the Emperor might not survive the bedding if he did anything wrong.

“I had no choice.” The Emperor’s aide said, as he defended himself, silently lamenting his liege’s new wife who still held a grudge. “Every other woman that would’ve wanted to rescue him and become his wife and empress had died in the dungeons, and the rest were either afraid of him, or afraid of the dungeons itself.”

“I had to trick her into believing there was a magnificent treasure there.” He still flinched at the thought of the woman’s words.

“The Emperor is no treasure, unless you count his looks and title, but his personality leaves much to be desired.” Captain Markham noted. “In that they’re the same. But that being said, will the Emperor be alright with her?”

“He’ll survive.” The Captain said resolutely stubborn in his faith that his liege could survive anything.

True enough, he survived. In fact, he was never in danger from her. He never spent a day away from his wife’s bed and they went on to have no less than seven children. The Duke and the Empress’ brothers never quite got around to liking the Emperor though they doted on their nieces and nephew, her sister however, was their biggest supporter.

The adventurer/sleeping beauty curse in reverse. With Penelope as the money hungry saviour and Callisto as the damsel in distress/princess in need of saving, the treasure, and the dragon itself. Penelope isn’t pleased she’s been conned. But they still got their happily ever after.

[knockyasocksoff2022]

Faking.

Another soukoku fic from last year's Sicktember.

Dazai's Perspective:

The bed feels so warm and I’m genuinely upset when I feel my eyes opening. I close them again but I know I won’t be able to sleep again. The thought of leaving the bed turns my inside to lead, a heavy, pressing, dreary, gloomy feeling. I would love nothing more than to stay here all day, possibly longer, and ideally with Chuuya, but he’d never stay with me. He’s far too dedicated to his work.

Chuuya, ever the deep sleeper, is still firmly asleep beside me. No wonder, it’s 2:00. It’s not uncommon for Chuuya to work until late or have a nocturnal schedule but this week he has daytime hours. 

I toss, turn, and twine my fingers through my lover’s hair and attempt the feat of sleep again. Even after five minutes, sleep evades me, only this time, as I toss and turn, I make the mistake of kicking Chuuya. Hard. In the face.

Oopsies!

Fully awake now, he grabs me, a reflex, and then softens after realising it’s just me.

“Dammit, Mackerel!” 

“Sorry.” I feel genuinely guilty for disrupting Chuuya's precious sleep.

His expression calms, not quite a smile, but his version of one. He’s still annoyed. “Why are you up so early? You sick or somethin’?” A frown.

His words confuse me at first, but then I remember that I always sleep much later than Chuuya. (Whenever I manage to sleep at all that is.)

Before I can respond, Chuuya's hand is on my forehead. His fingers are soft (a benefit of constant glove-wearing) and feel pleasantly warm against my skin. Chuuya runs a higher temperature than most and I welcome it now.

“Yeah, and you’re all pale too. You feelin’ okay?”

I’m about to deny it but then I get an idea. I’ll just tell him I’m ill then I can just rest the rest of the day while he’s at work.

I can’t summon up the energy for any of my usual antics so I just stay silent and let him think of that what he will.

“Hey?” his words are soft now and he drops his voice to a whisper, “Did you fall asleep again?”

I shake my head to let him know I haven’t

“This isn’t like you, you must be feelin’ pretty bad, huh?”

My plan is working but I can’t bring myself to smile.

“Come on, Osamu, I need to take your temp.”

I groan at the loss of the blanket’s warmth but Chuuya’s next to me so I press myself to him instead. He must have sensed what I want because on the way to the kitchen he grabs a blanket from the sofa and wraps it around me.

He lifts me onto the counter easily, like I’m a child. I don’t entirely mind it. No, I don’t mind at all. I wish he’d stay all day. Knowing that won’t happen, I let him slide the thermometer under my tongue. I wonder what he’ll do when he sees my temperature is normal. 

When the device beeps he takes it out, barely glancing at the number then presses a gentle kiss directly on my lips. I blink, surprised.

“What? Chu-”

“You’re temp’s normal, Osa. I figured as much or I wouldn’t have given you the blanket. I understand if you don’t wanna talk about whatever’s bothering you, but I had to get you out of bed somehow, I could feel you tossing around all night.”

“sorry.” the words are quieter than I intended.

“No, it’s okay. Do you want tea? Hot chocolate maybe?”

“Either is fine.” Truthfully, I don’t care in the slightest. I’m not even sure I’ll taste it.

“Okay, cocoa it is.” But he waits a moment to see if I’ll object. I nod to show him I don’t.

I watch in silence as he moves through the kitchen, as fiery as he may look, Chibi has the grace of a dancer. He told me that he wouldn’t mind dancing if he could do everything over again. The memory warms me a bit.

The only sounds around are the kettle heating up, and the soft whirring as the temperature of that water rises. At my distance, the entire scene is a bit fuzzy, the only thing I can really make out is Chuuya’s blaze-coloured hair. I haven’t told him, of course. I know I should. I want to, but not today. Even thinking about the words drains me more than I like.

He’d make a big deal out of it. How pathetic is that? Even being spoilt tried me.

I’m so busy trying to see through the fog that I almost don’t notice Chibi in front of me.

“Here.”

I reach out mindlessly.

“Careful, Osa, it’s hot.”

I “hmm” to let him know I’ve heard him. The cup feels heavy in my hand, so I set it down.

Wordlessly, Chibi dances off, returning promptly with two of the bendy straws Elise-chan gifted us years back. It’s a wonder they haven’t melted with how many times they’ve been through the dishwasher. I think they were meant for handwashing only. Chuuya is normally meticulous about that sort of thing, but we only use them when one of us is sick, so they need to be sterilised.

The straw does make it easier. I drink a bit too quickly just to lighten the cup. My tongue hurts, but it’s negligible, and the burn makes me feel something, at least.

“Good?”

I nod.

His hands are on my face now, gentle tracing under my eyes with that feather-light touch of his. I don’t need a mirror to know my eyes are dark with my lack of sleep.

“You really don’t look good though, Osa. You need sleep.”

I shake my head, “Can’t.”

He opens his mouth, then closes it, hesitating. He hardly ever hesitates. Then he’s walking off again, unlocking the cupboard where he keeps the medications, making sure to stand in font of it so I don’t see the passcode.

“I’m not actually sick. Did Chbi forget?”

He says nothing, taking out a blue bottle and pouring a dosage into the small lid that doubles as a measuring cup. Still silent, he brings it over to me.

“This is overnight cough syrup, the most disgusting shit you’ve ever tasted, I hate the stuff, but it’ll knock you out for a good 12 hours at least,” he explains.

I can only look at him. Chuuya suggesting drug use? It’s nothing scandalous, but I’m a bit surprised. I must look worse than I thought. It’s at times like this that I’m reminded of exactly what Chuuya would do for me, for my health and well-being.

His eyes widen. “. . . You don’t have to if you don’t want to, of course.” He starts towards the sink, “This is stupid. You’re probably immune to this stuff anyway.”

“Eh, why not.”

He turns around, walking back towards me, “Yeah. But just this once, okay. I’m not making this a habit. I’ll buy you some proper stuff this afternoon.”

I reach for the cup, he pulls it back. “Promise.”

I nod. He doesn’t give it up. It makes me laugh a little, the sound lifts some of the worry from his features. “I promise, Chibi.”

He lets me have it. 

As soon as the purple liquid hits my tongue I gag but force myself to swallow it.

“Nasty isn’t it.”

I would answer but I’m already feeling heavy. The good kind of heavy, the warm heavy that preludes sleep. After all my trouble, I don’t fight it now, leaning against, Chibi, shutting my eyes.

I feel his even, rhythmic steps under me, the weight of the duvet that Kouyou gave us, then nothing at all.

Chibi’s voice follows me into my dreams. “Goodnight, Osa, my love.”