#really really enjoying him in this final stretch

[commandershepardvasfuckit]

There’s a learning curve that comes with being married to someone who wasn’t human. Even more so when it was an arranged marriage and you were sort of just tossed into it.

Your husband was a good man though, a towering 8.5ft tall monster with elephant-like tusks and a whole culture you were still learning, be he took care of you well.

The first time you got your period living together he had no idea what was going on, but happily waiting on you hand and foot. Making sure he brought you pain medicine, snacks, and rubbed your aching joints.

The second time, he walked in on you desperately rubbing your clit to relax some of the cramps away. You were embarrassed beyond words, not that you hadn’t already slept together, but it was still quite the situation to be caught in.

“You know, I can help with that too” he shrugged and sat down the snacks he was bringing for you.

“It’s fine, it’s messy” you shrugged and stopped.

“I don’t care. You know I don’t mind blood” he responded.

“It’s fine”.

“Will it help you feel better?”

“Yeah”

“Then let me” he pushed.

You were not entirely sure what he had in mind, but he seemed pretty eager to help.

“Ok” you conceded.

He wasted no time helping you undress and peppering you with little kisses before settling down to kneel between your legs.

“Oh no no no, you really don’t have to” you began.

“I want to” he said as he lifted your hips up so he could tuck his tusks under you.

You felt his tongue immediately on your clit, the pressure and movements you liked, even better you felt the vibrations from his purring against your clit. He continued, working you over until you were a mewling mess. Once he was satisfied he slipped his tongue between your folds and then pressed into your entrance.

Within minutes you were already close. Between his large tongue giving you a pleasant stretch and the vibrations of his purring. You reached down to pull in his hair, needing to touch him any way you could reach, which only encouraged him more. His tongued was constantly against your g-spot and you enjoyed how every time he seemed to try to explore every inch of you.

He came from a species that did not normally go down, tusks got in the way too much, but once he learned it was an option he made sure to learn how to for you. It was always somewhat of an inelegant affair, his mouth open too far, drooling, no technique, but he did make up for it in sheer enthusiasm.

Your toes curled and you felt the familiar build and release as tingly waves of pleasure diffuse from head to toe. It was nothing intense this time, but he continued well after you finished, making sure beyond a doubt you were sleepy and satisfied.

He finally surfaced, leaning his head against your thigh and looking up at you with such a soft expression, “Feeling better?” he asked.

“For sure” you sighed and affectionately scratched his head.

He got up and went to go clean himself up and returned with clean sheets for the bed after everything. After settling down in bed with you he pulled you up against his chest, your back to him, and put his hands on your tummy, the best hot water bottle for cramps.

You fell asleep easily like that, feeling satisfied and cared for, and happy knowing you could probably swap a few doses of pain medicine for some time with your husband.

(Note: I kept it general, but the husband is from my ongoing Arranged Marriage series in my pinned post!)

[mikkomacko]

blurb of when mob boss! nico and reader get their dog

Muscles aching and tired, you shove the last of the moving boxes into the oversized trash bag on the kitchen floor. You look around the space, heart fluttering happily.

You have a house. Yours and Nico’s home, a forever home. A place that’ll hold dinners and parties for your large family, will fill up with stupid trinkets and legos that you two collect. One that’ll hopefully one day hold wedding photos and then baby photos, that’ll protect and raise your family in whatever way you choose to grow it.

Biting at your lip, you move back into the living room, mentally thanking Nico for having the boys set up all the furniture this past week. All you and him had to do was overlook everything, and unpack the boxes of personal things from the apartment.

“Hey,” Nico calls from the living room where he’s supposed to be setting up your takeout dinner on the coffee table. “There’s another box in here for you.”

Any sense of peace or relief you felt at finally being done fades, irritation filling the space instead. “No I don’t,” you grumble, but he’s right.

Right in front of the fireplace and tv is a large box, unmarked except for the thick black sharpie on the side that reads FRAGILE and your name underneath it.

It’s Nico’s handwriting.

“What is it?”

He’s sat on the couch, Gatorade in hand and he laughs. “I don’t know, s’yours.”

You glare at him, tired and even more annoyed when you see how good he still looks after a day of moving. You feel gross and sticky, hair a messy knot on your head and eyes heavy.

“You really couldn’t check for what’s in there?”

Nico shrugs, a sly smile on his face and you groan. All you want to do is sit on his lap and enjoy your favorite ramen place, watch tv and soak in your first night in your new home before Alex moves in tomorrow.

Dragging your feet over, you frown in confusion when you see the box move. The top of it isn’t even open, in fact it looks like it’s been placed upside down. You prod at the box, startling when the box feels like air and a tiny snort creeps out from the cracks underneath.

“Oh my god Nico I’m scared.”

He gets up from the couch, touching the small of your back with his warm palm. “Of what?” He laughs, nudging you forward. “Just open it.”

Sighing, you press into Nico’s side, stretching your leg out to kick at the bottom corner with your sock clad toes. Tentatively, you lift it with your toes, leaning down to get a peek at what’s in there.

Four large paws, white and fluffy. You gasp, scrambling back from the box and turn to look at Nico.

“No,” you say, shoving at him not that he budges. “You did not.”

His eyes crinkle, a laugh shaking his chest and he motions to the box. “Well let the poor thing out, Jesus Christ.”

As if knowing that you’re talking about him, the box snorts again and you giggle. Crouching onto your knees, you gently lift the box again. This time you keep going, smile widening when the white paws extend to furry little legs, and then a chubby little chest, and finally a big black nose. Two dark brown eyes stare at you, a dark fluffy tails wagging.

And yet the Saint Bernard stays perfectly still, like he’s waiting for you to reach out and touch him.

“Nico,” you murmur, tears welling in your eyes. His hand touches the top of your head, fingers stroking through your hair.

“Sprechen,” he says, and the dog tips his head back, yelping in greeting. You giggle wetly, looking up at Nico and he smiles proudly. “It means speak. You try,” he encourages.

You peer at the dog, “sprechen,” you mutter quietly and he yelps again, tail wagging even faster when you laugh in delight.

“Oh he’s so cute Nico,” you cry, finally reaching out to pet him. He nuzzles into your fingers when you scratch between his ears, the tag on his collar jingling. You grip it in your fingers, lifting the silver tag. It’s a smooth silver circle, a devil engraved into the front.

You flip it over, lip wobbling when you see the name engraved.

Moose Hischier

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I don’t know how you live here,” Nico grumbles, glaring at the roof of your apartment where the neighbors dogs are howling.

You laugh, stroking your fingers over the back of his hand and turning up the volume on the movie. The dogs have never bothered you, but Nico hates how loud they are. You think he’s just gotten too used to his soundproof penthouse because you find the dogs comforting.

They’ve never kept you up at night or interrupted your studying or woke you up too early.

“I think they’re sweet,” you murmur, and he runs his fingers through your hair, twirling a strand around his finger. “And I like to baby sit them for extra cash when the family is out of town.”

Nico snorts. “They sound vicious.”

“They’re not,” you insist, “plus I’ve always wanted a dog. But my mama is allergic and it’s too hard to have one in school.”

“Yeah?” He hums, “what kinda dog? I hope not one of those rat ones that always look dirty.”

“No,” you laugh, tilting your head to look up at him. He’s leaning against the headboard of your full size bed, looking down at where you’re laying in his lap. “I want a big one. A Saint Bernard.”

His eyebrow raise in surprise, but he looks delighted to hear that. “Really? You need a big yard for a dog like that.”

“I know,” you say proudly because you’ve done extensive research on these dogs. And you know how expensive it is to adopt one let alone raise it. “S’why I’m waiting. But I know I’m gonna get him one day.”

“A boy?”

“Yeah,” you look back at the movie, “and I’ll name him Moose.”

“But he’s a dog?” Nico asks, amused.

“That’s why it’s cute.”

He’s silent for a moment, fingers still playing with your hair and you think he’s dropped the topic, invested in the movie again.

“Saint Bernard’s are from Switzerland, ya know?”

You grin. “I know.”

“We use them for avalanches because they’ve got good noses.”

“Yeah,”

“They’re really loyal too. And protective.”

Teasingly, you look up at him. “It seems I have a type…”

Nico raises an eyebrow, cheeks tinging pink and he shakes his head, trying to bite back his pleased grin. “My nose good be better.”

You reach up, stroke your finger down the bridge of straight nose. “I like it,” you whisper earnestly. “I like you.”

“I like you too.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I can’t believe you remembered his name.”

You let go of the tag, stroking over Moose’s fluffy little face. He licks at your hand, steps closer to you and you scoop him up in your arms.

“Course I remembered,” Nico says incredulously, “you talked about that dog like he was your long lost child.”

You dig your fingers into his fur, squeezing him to your chest as you stand up to look at Nico with teary eyes. “Moose,” you try, and he wiggles excitedly, nuzzling into your neck. “Sweet boy.”

Nico reaches over, pets at his back softly. “You like him?”

Nodding, you sniffle back tears and hug Moose even tighter. “How could I not? Oh he’s perfect Nico.”

Your boyfriend beams with pride, dimples in his cheeks and teeth biting his bottom lip. “He was trained in Bern,” he tells you, “German commands but he understands English too.”

“He’s bilingual?!” You gawk, “what?!”

“Yeah,” Nico chuckles. “I wanted him to be able to protect you. Certain commands in English will make him more protective, vicious, ya know? That way if you say them in a dangerous situation he knows to protect you. But in German he knows it’s just regular behavioral ones.”

Your eyes sparkle, so enamored and in love with Moose already. Peeling him away from your neck, you look into his pretty, brown puppy eyes. “You’re already so smart,” you coo emotionally, “so smart and so pretty.”

You hug him again, looking at Nico with sweet eyes. He can’t help himself, he wraps you and the dog up in his arms and squeezes you into his chest.

“Thank you so much Nico,” you mumble, “I love him so so so much.”

“You’re welcome baby,” he kisses the top of your head. “I love him too.”

Preening, you pull back from Nico and skip towards the couch with Moose in your arms like a baby.

“Now I just need your daddy to teach me German words, huh?”

His chest warms, fuzzies and pleasant prickles fluttering where his heart is. Nico swallows heavily, urging the butterflies to go away but he can’t help it.

He loves you so much.

“Moose,” he calls, following you over to the couch. The dog’s ears twitch, looking at Nico expectantly. “Kuss.”

You giggle like a child on Christmas when Moose licks a wet kiss onto your cheek. Shyly, you tilt your cheek to him again. “Kuss.” Nico laughs when Moose licks you again and you gasp in surprise.

Tilting your head up at Nico, you flutter your eyelashes at him. “Nico, kuss?”

Chuckling, he leans down and kisses you. And again when you repeat it because really, who is he to deny you?

[multifandomslxt]

Tramp - Stamp

MDNI

MINORS GO AWAY

Pairing: Tattoo artist!Yuta x chubby!reader

Synopsis: After years of silently admiring him from afar, your friends have finally convinced you to break the ice with the guy who's been the subject of your secret crush: Yuta Nakamoto, the renowned tattoo artist. His mere presence sends a wave of excitement through you...all of you. luckily you happen to have a particular design in mind—a tramp stamp—that you've been itching to get inked onto your skin.

WARNING: Smut, unprotected p in v ( use protection kids), choking, spitting, hair pulling, mirrors (hehe), crying, begging, needles, smoking, Yuta is mean but sweet (lol), READER IS CHUBBY!! stretch marks, love handles, back rolls, stomach rolls etc. (if you don't like it, don't read it), Reader calls Yuta "Daddy", Yuta calls reader "bunny".

A/N: I have nothing against lower back tattoos or tramp stamps. I plan to get one myself actually. however, the term tramp stamp will have a different meaning in this fic.

I apologize in advance for any typos. Enjoy!

"Finally!" Minhee, your best friend of five years mutters, exasperation dripping from her voice.

Your bottom lip juts out in distaste. "What do you mean finally? I mentioned this to you just a couple months ago."

"Yeah, Y/N, but come on, you usually back out of these things, y'know?" Minhee explains, a playful smirk on her lips.

You sigh, not bothering to argue because you know she's right. There was a good reason, though. You grew up sheltered, and because of that, you just shied away from things that would draw attention to you.

For example, a tramp stamp.

Minhee squeals and shimmies her shoulders in excitement. "So… who's gonna do it?"

Huh… You hadn’t really gotten that far in your thoughts. You just figured you would go to a random tattoo parlor with good enough reviews.

You shrug. "I'll just choose somewhere with great reviews."

Minhee looks at you quizzically, tilting her head. "Good reviews? Why? Yuta's sho—"

You hold your hand up, stopping her mid-sentence. You roll your eyes. "Don't even think about it."

Minhee mimics you, rolling her eyes as well. "Y/N, you've wanted to fuck the guy since high school."

You squeeze your eyes shut, embarrassing memories resurfacing. "Minhee, please," you beg.

Besides, even if you did allow Yuta to tattoo you, there was no way in hell he would do anything more. You weren’t his type. He didn’t say that to you, but after years of stalking his social media pages like a creep, it was obvious you were definitely not his cup of tea. And it bothered you more than it should have.

"But Y/N, how will you get out of your shell without trying something new?" Minhee pleads. "Just trust me, the worst thing he can do is just give you the tattoo and never talk to you again." She shrugs.

You bite your lip in contemplation. That is true.

Fuck it.

"Fine, I'll do it."

Another squeal. "Yes! I'll book your appointment."

After some taps on her phone, she says, "Friday, 12:30."

You exhale, already hearing your heart pounding in your ears.

~~~~~

It was Friday, 12:15 PM.

You stood outside Yuta's tattoo parlor, teetering on the edge of decision. The air was thick with the scent of rain, and the cloudy sky reflected your inner turmoil.

Minhee had called you earlier, her voice a mix of encouragement and threat. "Just spread your wings a little. See where it takes you," she had urged over the phone. "If you back out, I'll never talk to you again."

Hopefully not an embarrassing fall from grace, you thought.

Sighing, you wiped your sweaty palms on your jeans and pushed the door open. The chime above the door announced your arrival with a soft tinkle, and you stepped inside, your heart pounding in your ears.

Your eyes darted to every corner of the shop within your sight. Holy shit.

It was dark. So fucking dark.

The parlor was an extension of Yuta himself. Black leather furniture, dark wood shelves, and posters of intricate, shadowy designs adorned the walls. Even the decorative plants were a deep, almost black, green. The only color contrasts were the neon signs casting an eerie glow and the cherry red telephone on the receptionist's desk.

And, of course, you.

A horrible choice to wear a baby pink crop top. You had hoped not to stand out, for crying out loud.

"Spread your wings," you muttered to yourself, taking another deep breath.

You made your way to the receptionist, pretending not to notice her staring at you since you stood outside. Her gaze was intense, but her smile was warm and welcoming.

"Hello, how may I help you today, sweetheart?" the receptionist asked.

"Hi, umm, I have an appointment? I'm Y/N for 12:30."

The receptionist nodded immediately, typing away and glancing at her computer screen. "Ah… 12:30 with Yuta." She looked up, waiting for your confirmation.

You nodded.

She smiled again. "Go through that door and wait; he'll be right with you."

The door she pointed to was, of course, dark wood, almost black, adorned with posters of various butterfly tattoos. A gold name plate read, "N. YUTA."

You exhaled once more, your heart hammering in your chest, and made your way toward the door, each step echoing in the dimly lit room.

The door opened with a soft creak, and my gosh, the light almost blinded you. Such a contrast from the waiting area.

The walls were a dark red with random splashes of black paint, all four sides adorned with even more sketches. Butterflies, swords, cartoons, and so much more.

a stool, and a bed -where you assumed customers lay down or sat on when getting tattooed- stood in the middle of the room. A table right beside the stool stood with different inks and the tools Yuta would need to tattoo someone. And, of course, there was a huge light standing over the bench and stool.

You awkwardly took a seat at the edge of the bed. The second you sat down, the door opened again, revealing Yuta.

His head was down, focused on his phone screen. You took this opportunity to look at him. Like, really look at him.

His black hair was grown out just above his shoulders, framing his face with an almost rough ethereal beauty. He was clad in all black—black pants and a black crop top that revealed just the tiniest bit of his butterfly tattoo and a fucking belly button piercing.

fuck me.

Finally, he looked up, and you quickly looked away.

his eyes were darker than you remembered.

"Y/N, right?" His voice was smooth and rich, with a hint of amusement.

You turned your attention back to him and nodded. "Y-yeah, I'm Y/N."

He nodded, a confident smile playing on his lips. "I'm Yuta. I'll be tattooing you today," he said, taking a seat on the stool in front of you. he smelled like cigarettes and faintlu of cologne.

it made you dizzy.

"Yeah, I know that. So, umm, I have my design—if that's okay?" you stumbled, trying to keep your composure.

The way he was staring so deeply at you like he could see through you.

It almost made you want to hide.

like a predator stalking its prey.

He stared at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes, before saying something that made your heart nearly stop. "You're still so shy after all these years, bunny?"

Bunny?

Did he just call you... No.

Your mind raced, trying to make sense of his words. Had he recognized you? Your cheeks flushed as old, buried memories began to resurface. You had known Yuta back in high school, but you never thought he’d remember you. Let alone a nickname you thought he had long forgotten.

You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening. "Y-you remember me?"

Yuta chuckled softly, a dark, almost predatory look in his eyes. "Of course I do. Some things you just don't forget."

butterflies erupted in your belly as you felt your finger tips tingle

You wanted to be under him so badly that your body ached.

The room seemed to close in around you, the walls pulsing with your heartbeat. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, peeling away the layers you had built around yourself over the years.

"Well then," he said, leaning forward, his eyes never leaving yours. "Let's see that design."

Your hands trembled slightly as you reached into your back pocket and pulled out the paper with your design on it. You handed it to him, your fingers brushing against his. His touch was warm, sending a jolt of electricity through you. For a brief moment Yuta's body stiffened.

Holy fuck.

Did he want you too?

He examined the design, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. " You drew this?"

You nodded, not trusting your voice to speak.

he looks up at you quizzically causing your breathing to hasten

"do i still have to remind you to use your words bunny?" he asks his tone joking but his posture changed. from slouching to upright and his jaw was clenched. his eyes were a little darker and a little more demanding.

You realized that he wanted to hear you and he wanted it now.

your breath hitches before squeaking out a quiet "no"

he smiles, relaxes his posture and nods approvingly "Good girl"

This was unfair.

you wanted to affect him as much as he affected you.

Yuta looked up at you, his dark eyes boring into yours. "it's nice. it suits you. where do you want it?"

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. "on my back please" you whispered.

Yuta raises a dark eyebrow in question "This seems a little small for the middle of your back bunny."

"no no, you don't understand" you you chuckle nervously

he looks at you expectantly, crossing his arms at his chest and tilting his head "Well make me understand sweetheart"

"I'll just show you" You get up from the bed and turn around

lifting our shirt revealing your lower back just above your ass.

you reach behind you and attempt to point to that spot "right here. I want it right here please."

A beat of silence passes, and another and another before you decide to turn around slightly.

his eyes lazily looked at you from head to toe.

He swallowed thickly, his gaze meeting yours with a mixture of surprise and curiosity before he replied in a strained voice,

"A tramp stamp?"

You smiled, feeling a rush of boldness, and with a flicker of hesitation, dropped your shirt, fully facing him now.

"Yes," you confirmed, your voice steady despite the flutter of nerves within you. God, he made you so jittery.

He clenched and unclenched his jaw, his eyes still fixed on you, observing every move as if he were deciphering a complex puzzle.

"Who's it for?" he questioned, his tone tinged with the same strain as before.

Confusion flickered across your features as you met his gaze. "Me?" you responded, the uncertainty evident in your voice.

He chuckled, though the humor didn't reach his eyes. "Fucking hell, you're trying to kill me."

" A tramp stamp just for your own amusement, bunny? And you want me to do it?" His words carried a mix of disbelief and a hint of something deeper, perhaps longing.

With a resigned sigh, he walked over to his stool and took a seat, motioning for you to shut the door.

It was common knowledge that when Yuta worked, he kept the door cracked, but shutting it completely? That was unheard of.

You decided to comply, despite the uncertainty gnawing at you. Closing the door softly behind you, you approached him with slow, steady steps, stopping in between his parted legs.

"A tattoo on your lower back," he mused carefully, his hands moving to grasp your love handles possessively leading you to the bed.

"You're putting ideas in my head." he whispers still staring at you hips.

His words were laced with a raw intensity that sent shivers down your spine. His eyes bore into yours so intently it made you heart race and your heart clench.

Did he want you to beg for it?

fine, you came prepared for that anyway.

'Please...ruin me. Fucking ruin me.'

is what you would have said if you were brave enough, instead all you could get out was

"oh..i-"

Yuta chuckles "flustered?"

you clear your throat and look away

a finger lifts your chin causing you to meet his predatory gaze again

"I'm gonna be real with you here bunny, I want to fuck your brains out. not professional of me I know but I wouldn't be saying it if I didn't know you wanted it too"

~~~~~

your fingers clawed at his back as he fucked you against the wall

his balls rhythmically slapping against you

you looked down enjoying the sight of him fucking into you , his cock branded with a white ring of your cum.

"Yuta," you gasp, breath hitching, "I want more."

“Oh, you want more?” he responds with a smirk, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "I can definitely give you more."

The motion of his thrusts causes your stomach to quiver, muscles trembling in response as your body matches his rhythm. Each movement is intense, sending waves of sensation through you.

Your throat feels raw from all the shouting and moaning—so much so that you can barely voice how close you are. Instead, your grip tightens around his arm, fingers digging into his skin in a desperate, wordless plea, silently telling him that you’re right on the edge.

"Already, Y/N?" he taunts, not even slowing his relentless pace. His voice is a mix of amusement and intensity, each word vibrating through you.

Before you can process his words, the sensation crashes over you, making your toes curl, your back arching away from the wall. Your mouth falls open, releasing a silent scream as the overwhelming pleasure grips you.

The release is so intense that tears spill down your cheeks, your body trembling under the weight of it all. But he doesn't stop—his rhythm remains the same, drawing out every ounce of sensation, leaving you breathless and barely able to think.

have you ever been fucked so hard you stomach started to hurt?

but fuck, you didn't want him to stop

soon you started to feel the burn of it all, our body twitched and trembled.

you fought so hard to speak but you couldn't even form a thought

suddenly it was all too much.

your head spun , your eyes rolled back and your body shook with one more orgasm

"Yuta please!" you screamed your hand instinctually trying to push him away from you and he only responded by gripping both your wrist in one hand.

"behave!" he growled out biting your nipple as a form of punishment but all that did was give you another orgasm.

"Ah! I'm-oh...please...fuck me daddy....please" you cried hysterically.

It's embarrassing what a good fuck can do to the mind

"Fuck bunny, such a dirty fucking mouth" he whispers as he bring his hand to your face gripping your jaw.

"open for me baby" he coos

you mouth is wide open not even a millisecond later and oh my hell

you died and came back when he spat in your mouth.

"swallow that shit" he thrusts deeper and harder.

"SHIT!" You scream out as he reaches a spot that you never had touched

he smiles at you mischievously "found it"

and just like that you had two more orgasms before you realized,

Yuta didn't cum yet

which could only mean one thing

"I'm not done with you bunny. I want you from the back"

You shook your head, still in a daze. " T-tired....t'much...mmm"

he kisses your temple oh so sweetly as anything but sweet words fall from his lips "i know baby but I want to see you cry some more when i fuck you harder. besides, don't you want daddy to cum all over you baby?

you look up at him with tear filled eyes "yes daddy"

he smiles showing his teeth "then be a good bunny and get on all fours for me"

~

"ah fuck" was what he said when he finally sank into you again.

his hands roamed your back squeezing and giving attention to your rolls

"You were fucking made for me" he moaned out in utter bliss.

looks like you did affect him like he affected you.

he was relentless with his thrust.

so fucking eager.

the room was just filled with the sound of your ass meeting his cock and oh was it music to your ears

"the view from here is fucking amazing baby"

he slaps your ass cheek repeatedly and you already know its bruised red.

from the mirror on the wall you could see him rubbing his hands all over your stretch marks as he mouths an inaudible "fuck"

You also see that he's going to take it up a notch when he lifts one of his legs up on to the stool. giving him a deeper angle as he pummels into you

"you grip on the white sheet on the tattoo bed as you scream

"I'M GONNA CUM!"

you fall on your chest as the strength leaves your arms. your eyes blur with tears for the the umpteenth time and you bite your lip so hard you taste blood

"I know baby me too" he pants out chest heaving as he tries to maintain his pace

"mmm-I'm cumming...i'm cumming- ah shit!" you manage to get out as your stomach tightens.

you feel Yuta swelling inside you but he pulls out just intime as white ropes of cum are painted over your back.

you barley can keep your eyes open as you see Yuta use his hands to spread his cum all over your stretchmark- filled ass cheeks

"holy shit: he says collapsing on top of you.

you're quiet for a moment not finding the strength to speak as yet

"i should've taken you on a date first bunny" Yuta says filling the silence

you sigh contently "you still can."

[fear-is-truth]

༉‧₊˚. j’s note. for @redskies-7. turned out a bit longer than i expected but only because i adored your request … warnings: mature content. 18+. mastūrbation. fingēring

peter had been on high alert ever since the mission that left you with nasty gashes across your abdomen. the memory of you collapsing, blood soaking through your suit, haunted him, and he’d been an absolute wreck ever since. even now, with bandages wrapped snug around your waist and most of the pain fading to a dull ache, he still treated you like you were on death’s doorstep. “okay, careful, careful,” he’d mutter every time you so much as shifted on the bed. peter would zip over in a blur, fluffing pillows and checking the bandages even when you insisted you were fine.

you had tried to hint that you wanted his attention for something other than fussing over you. but to your disappointment, he’d just shake his head, “uh, no can do, babe,” he’d say, practically vibrating with nervous energy. “you need rest, and i’m, like, a terrible influence when it comes to resting. last thing i wanna do is, y’know, make things worse.”

but you were feeling better. really. and you were tired of the distance he was forcing between you, however well-intentioned it was. late one night, you woke up feeling restless, perhaps a little too desperate. the ache of your injuries having dulled considerably, transferring to a different kind of ache, slow and burning between your thighs. peter was sprawled next to you, completely conked out and snoring softly. wincing, you adjusted yourself into a more comfortable position before slipping your fingers under the waistline of your panties.

you squirmed at the much-needed contact, hoping it would be enough to take the edge off. you bit your lip, trying to stifle any moans… but your small fingers were far from enough to ease some of the pent-up frustration from two long weeks of forced rest. but then, just as you finally felt the tickle of a weak orgasm, you heard your boyfriend let out a low, sleepy groan.

“hey… what’s goin’ on?” you turned your head to see him blinking himself awake, silver hair sticking up in all directions. as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, they landed on the guilty look on your face, how your hands were conveniently under the covers. a slow, lazy grin spread across his face as he put two and two together.

“wait a sec…” he raised an eyebrow, looking far too pleased with himself. “are you…?” heat flooded your cheeks, and you froze, pulling the blanket up over your face in embarrassment. “peter, it’s nothing. just… go back to sleep,” you mumbled, but he only chuckled, clearly enjoying this far too much.

“wait, are you…?” he asked, a hint of poorly concealed amusement in his voice. “no way.” he stretched out his arms and looked at you, that amused smirk making your face go even hotter. “you couldn’t just ask me for help?”“peter,” you whispered, mortified, pulling the blanket up in an attempt to hide your face.

“just—g-go back to sleep.”

“nah, can’t do that now,” he gently tugged the blanket back down to see your face. his smile turned downright devious. “you’re over here trying to go solo when i’m literally right here?” he scoffed, shaking his head. “babe, i’m almost offended. i thought we were supposed to be a team.”

you buried your face in your hands, utterly embarrassed. but, to your surprise, the teasing stopped immediately; off like a switch. peter nudged your hands away gently, looking at you with earnest concern.

“look,” he began, softer this time, “i know you’re still healing, but—i’ll get back in the groove real quick. don’t want you wearing yourself out, right?” peter flexed his fingers, stretching them out with a flourish, and then, his whole hand started to tremble, no that wasn’t the right word — his hand was vibrating. there was a slight blur to it, as his fingers quivered like a hummingbird’s wings, the movement almost imperceptible to the naked eye.

“…or did you forget my specialty?” he wiggled his eyebrows. you giggled despite yourself, embarrassment starting to melt away as peter braced himself with one forearm planted carefully by your side, making sure not to press into your bandaged torso. “so… what do you say?” he whispered into your ear, “let me take care of you?”

and just like that, you were granted something you’d been denied for weeks. peter had always prided himself on his unique style of “multitasking”. thanks to his ADHD, focusing on one thing wasn’t exactly his strong suit, but with you, he was hell-bent on trying. besides, he was pretty sure he could handle it—especially since you’d made it clear you really needed him right now.

“mghm ohmygod yes, right there, right there–”

he let out a little chuckle at your enthusiasm, lips brushing along your jawline as his vibrating fingers plunged in and out of you. “you know i kept telling myself, ‘peter, you gotta be responsible, let her heal,’” his voice dropped, almost like he was letting you in on some big secret.

“but… c’mon, you’re you. how was i supposed to stay away?” he moved to press a kiss just below your ear, letting out a little dramatic sigh. normally, you would’ve been slightly annoyed with peter’s chattiness, but his voice now possessed a soothing quality that served the purpose to ground you… and distract you from the lewd squelches that reached your ears.

“fuck, you’re, like, my kryptonite. i missed you like this,” your fingers were tangled in his hair, threading through the soft, messy silver strands, and as you gave a gentle tug, peter let out a low hum of contentment. his eyelids fluttered for a second, the corners of his mouth tugging up into a lazy grin as his lips continued their slow, lazy journey from your collarbone down to the soft curve of your breast.

“mhm, keep doin’ that baby. you’re so good fer me.”

he mumbled against your skin, swirling his tongue around your rock-hard nipple while sinking in knuckle-deep. reduced to nothing but a writhing mess in the sheets, the only response that sounded from you was a strained whimper, the moment you felt his fingers curl against your sweet spot. the glorious stretch made you realise just how much you were missing out in this two weeks of abstinence, and how hard it must’ve been for peter as well—judging by the way his hips were rocking against the mattress.

“should’ve woken me up sooner—would’ve saved you a whole lotta trouble.” another moan slipped past your lips as peter began to thrust his fingers with more vigour, reaching deeper than you never thought possible while simultaneously maintaining that delicious vibration in his fingertips. the heat that had been building in the pit of your stomach was fuelled with each stroke of his thumb on your on your clit, and within seconds, a mind-numbing pleasure set your entire bloodstream ablaze. as you rode out your orgasm, peter’s other hand slid over yours, lacing your fingers together.

as your breathing finally started to even out, you glanced over at your boyfriend, who was watching you with that soft, starry-eyed look, his teeth catching on his bottom lip. he caught you staring and gave you a small, lopsided smile, reaching over to brush a few stray hairs from your face. “feelin’ better?” you nodded yes, still catching your breath, and leaned forward to press a slow, lingering kiss to his lips, feeling the heat of his erection poke against your abdomen.

when you pulled back, you whispered, “i wanna do something for you, too. with you, to be exact.”

his eyes widened, that hint of pink deepening in his cheeks. for a second, he just stared, looking torn, like he was debating with himself. you could practically see the gears turning in his head, weighing his worry against his own need for you. then peter sighed deeply, running a hand through his messy hair, trying to muster his usual bravado.“okay, fine,” he finally relented, shifting to move on top of you carefully, his hand bracing by your side to avoid putting any pressure on your bandaged torso. “but if i hurt you—or if you start bleeding again—i’m… i’m wrapping you up in so much gauze you won’t be able to move,”

a/n: sorry if this sounded ooc… it’s been a while since i’ve wrote for peter </3

 fear-is-truth

[rainforestakiie]

AdamsApple Month Harvest!

Devil's Night~

gosh, i'm so happy. i really love this idea. it is inspired by @things-arent-what-they-seem66's AU of adam and lilith switching places. this is part 01, there will be a part 02.

i know harvest is over but i have a few more things to write!

hope you all enjoy it!

@adamsappleweek

Hell felt different now. Smoke hung heavy, thicker than usual, as though mourning in silence, and the very ground under Lucifer’s hooves pulsed with a faint, restless throb, like a wound struggling to close. He stood in solemn stillness, his back perfectly arched, hands folded over the twisted surface of his apple-wood cane, fingers tapping rhythmically as if to an unseen clock counting down something. His gaze, red and yellow like smouldering embers, fixed on the lifeless form of Adam sprawled on the darkened ground, surrounded by a shimmer of golden liquid and the soft glint of fallen feathers.

Adam lay motionless, eyes shut, lips the colour of a fading bruise. Lucifer’s throat tightened. Part of him wanted to whisper thanks to his daughter, Charlie, for guarding Adam’s body from the ravenous cannibals of the underworld, but he knew if he opened his mouth, his voice would crack, betraying him.

The silence pressed in, cold and oppressive, creeping into his bones. Hell was hot, stifling, but Lucifer felt chilled to his core—a hollow, biting emptiness that gnawed at him. His gaze remained unbroken, staring with a strange, desperate hope that this was some twisted joke. Perhaps any moment now, Adam would shift, laugh in that carefree, Edenish way of his, and sit up, as vibrant and stubborn as ever. But Adam remained still, silent, chest unmoving. An uncontrollable shiver ran through Lucifer, twisting painfully in his stomach.

He had never truly believed Adam could die. He had always assumed—no, convinced himself—that Adam would outlive them all, his spirit too relentless to surrender. And somewhere, hidden in the darkest corners of Lucifer's heart, was a naïve sliver of hope that Adam would eventually come back to him. That the bond they had once shared in Eden, a bond so profound it had nearly eclipsed the heavens themselves, would find a way to mend. They would rebuild, somehow. It would be different, yes, but they would laugh together again, walk side by side once more. Those stolen moments in Eden, when Lucifer was Adam’s guardian angel and Adam, his purpose… those memories clung to him, a bittersweet poison he couldn’t let go of.

Back then, Adam had been his everything. His duty, his joy, his reason to exist. Lucifer remembered the thrill that had sparked through him, the first time he heard the voice of God declare his purpose. He was to be Adam’s protector, his guide, his companion in that boundless garden. And he had thrown himself into that role, relished it. He had loved Adam in a way he hadn’t understood at the time. The garden had been theirs alone. No one else existed in that timeless paradise, only him and Adam, with eternity stretched out before them like a golden promise.

But then Lilith entered the garden, and everything had unravelled. He thought he had loved her, thought she understood him, saw him for who he truly was beneath the wings and heavenly light. He had let his heart slip through his fingers, foolishly entrusting her with every secret, every fractured part of himself. He had given her everything: a home, a family, the taste of power. Yet, for her, it was never enough. She wanted more, always something beyond his reach, until she had finally abandoned him and Charlie the moment something more alluring came her way. The emptiness she left was raw, a void gnawing at him even now.

He had tried to convince himself he deserved it—that he was vile, selfish, the snake of Eden. He had thought he deserved every torment she dealt him, every moment of betrayal. He had hurt Adam, and that wound, though buried, had never fully healed. He could still see Adam’s green eyes, filled with tears and betrayal, piercing through the centuries. That look had seared itself into Lucifer’s soul, a scar he tried endlessly to ignore. The first betrayal had been shattering. But there were others. With each one, he had watched something precious in Adam’s eyes die, replaced by a steely resolve, a silent ache that mirrored Lucifer’s own.

During their last battle—the one that had forever severed the fragile thread between them—Lucifer had let slip a remark about Eve. He had done it to provoke Adam, to elicit some reaction, any reaction, just to feel Adam’s gaze on him again, even if it was filled with fury. But Adam’s reaction hadn’t been what he’d expected.

That fleeting hint of betrayal in his eye—the exact shade Lucifer knew so well—had cut deeper than any physical blow could. Adam hadn’t been blind to it, hadn’t let it slide as Lucifer had hoped. The anger had transformed into something colder, something Lucifer couldn’t quite name, but it lingered, long after they parted.

Now, standing here, watching Adam’s motionless form, Lucifer felt the full weight of those mistakes crashing over him, a tidal wave of remorse he could no longer fend off. Every unspoken word, every fractured promise, every fleeting glance they had shared in Eden came flooding back to him with agonizing clarity. The irony was sharp—Adam, his purpose, his only joy, lay gone, and Lucifer was left adrift, lost in a void he had fashioned for himself. The garden, their laughter, their whispered secrets beneath the endless, star-strewn sky… all of it had turned to ash, leaving Lucifer alone with nothing but the ghosts of memories that would never fade, haunting him like shadows he could never escape.

Lucifer clenched his eyes shut, the whispers of memories swelling in his mind, pressing into the silence until they filled the air around him. He could hear it all—every laugh, every teasing remark, every stolen moment under Eden’s endless skies. The phantom echoes of their laughter rang through his ears, so vivid it felt as if Adam were right there beside him again, as though any second he’d feel Adam’s hand slap his back or hear him call his name with that familiar, playful lilt. He could almost smell the dewy grass and the scent of fresh, untainted earth that had once been their playground, their sanctuary.

They had been so close, he and Adam, so tightly bound by a friendship that felt eternal, unbreakable. Lucifer’s heart had belonged entirely to Adam in those days, every bit of him dedicated to his charge, to his purpose. Adam had been his light, his reason to be, his only true companion in the vast, bewildering beauty of the garden. And yet, Lucifer had lost it all, torn it apart with his own hands, with his own selfish heart. He’d destroyed something precious, something he thought could never be lost. He’d always believed they’d somehow find their way back to each other. That one day, Adam would look at him with those green eyes, softened with forgiveness, and they’d be… something again. Friends, perhaps. Or more.

A soft, broken sniff escaped him, and he forced his eyes open, the agony tightening in his chest as his gaze fell once more on Adam’s still, lifeless body. His sharp teeth clenched as his hooves trembled beneath him. He took a faltering step forward, his legs weak, as if the weight of centuries was pressing down on them, the memories and regrets dragging him down. His knees felt brittle, ready to buckle as he moved closer. His eyes burned, a stinging heat prickling at them, growing worse with each step until he found himself standing directly over Adam’s body. He looked down, his chest tight, his breath ragged, hardly daring to believe this was real.

“Hey,” he whispered, his voice barely a rasp, clinging to some thread of hope that seemed to slip further from his grasp. His gaze was fixated on Adam’s chest, willing it to rise, to betray some hidden breath.

“Hey, oi… this isn’t funny.” His claws tightened around the apple-wood cane, his knuckles whitening, desperate to ground himself against the unrelenting horror of the truth. “Adam, this isn’t funny. Stop… stop playing around.”

His voice cracked, shaky and hollow. His chest rose and fell with shallow breaths as he searched Adam’s face for any sign of movement, any flicker of those warm, golden eyes. But Adam remained still, lips tinted blue, his skin pallid under the dim, smoky light. Lucifer’s hands trembled, and with a sharp intake of breath, he dropped to his knees, his cane clattering to the ground beside him.

“Please…”

The word slipped out, soft and broken, barely a whisper. He reached out a trembling hand, his fingers brushing against the cold skin of Adam’s cheek. The chill bit into him, a harsh, unyielding reminder that this wasn’t a nightmare he could wake from. He closed his eyes again, unable to bear the sight of Adam like this, and the memories surged back once more, flooding him with bittersweet echoes.

“Do you remember, Adam?” he murmured, voice barely holding together, his hand resting gently against Adam’s cheek. “Do you remember… the nights we’d talk until the stars began to fade? When we’d chase each other through the trees, laughing like nothing else in all creation mattered?”

His voice wavered, choked by the memories, by the weight of a love he’d buried so deeply he’d almost forgotten how much it hurt.

The memories of Eden shimmered behind his eyes—memories of Adam grinning, his face lit up with that carefree, boyish charm that Lucifer had adored. Memories of Adam leaning on him, both talking under the vastness of the heavens, lost in their own world, a world they had once believed would never end.

But it had ended. He’d been the one to end it.

And now, here he was, left alone with nothing but his regrets and the fading whispers of a love that could never be repaired. His shoulders sagged as he leaned closer, his forehead almost touching Adam’s. He spoke again, his voice barely more than a breath, as though he feared the silence would shatter beneath the weight of his words.

“Adam, I’m sorry,” he whispered, the confession torn from him like a piece of his soul. “I’m so… sorry.”

But Adam remained silent, cold, unyielding, and for the first time, Lucifer understood the full extent of his loss, the emptiness that would haunt him for eternity. His hand slipped from Adam’s cheek, his head bowing as the first, silent tear fell.

Lucifer shuffled closer on his knees, inch by inch, his face warming with a painful flush as his eyes misted over.

“I’m so sorry,” he choked, voice quivering as he leaned over Adam’s body.

His fingers trembling as they reached out, brushing just the edge of the bloodstained fabric. He wanted to touch Adam’s hand, to feel that familiar warmth once more, but he couldn’t bring himself to close the distance. His breath hitched, his hands hovering, shaking, the words spilling out before he could stop them.

“I was supposed to be your guardian, Adam,” he whispered, his voice barely a breath. “I was made for you… to protect you, to be whatever you needed, whatever you deserved.”

He swallowed, his chest tight as the words clawed their way out, raw and unfiltered. “But I failed you. I failed you in ways I can’t even… can’t even justify.”

His fingers trailed across Adam’s robe, tracing the familiar folds, the dark stains of blood, each one a reminder of how far they’d fallen from what they once were.

He took a shaky breath, his mind dragging him back to the painful memories, to Lilith.

“She was… God, she was everything to me then,” he admitted, his voice cracking. “I thought… I thought I loved her. I thought she saw me in a way no one else ever had. I thought she understood me. She was fierce, and powerful, and beautiful, and I thought—”

His voice broke, and he looked down, the shame tightening like a vice around his heart. “I thought she would stay. I thought… I thought she wanted me, that she wanted what we could build together. I cut off my own wings for her, gave up everything I had, my power, my place in heaven. And then, at the first chance she got, she left. Left me and Charlie as if we were nothing.”

He let out a bitter laugh, empty and hollow. “But maybe… maybe I deserved it. I had it coming, didn’t I? For what I did to you.”

His gaze flickered to Adam’s face, hoping desperately to see a flicker of forgiveness, but Adam remained still, cold and lifeless. Lucifer clenched his teeth, forcing himself to keep going, to lay everything bare before him.

“You saw us, didn’t you?” he whispered. “Back in Eden. You saw Lilith and me… together. And I knew. I knew it wasn’t fair to you, that you didn’t understand. You didn’t deserve that, Adam. You didn’t deserve to be hurt like that, to be left alone, wondering what happened to me, wondering why everything changed.”

He looked away, ashamed. “And I can’t explain myself. I wish I could. I want to, but… I don’t know what happened. I was so… blinded. I couldn’t see you, couldn’t see what was right in front of me. I was too wrapped up in her, in what I thought I felt for her.”

His voice dropped to a whisper; his words laced with regret. “But before Lilith, it was always you. It was always you, Adam. I was so… so sure I loved you, I just didn’t know it then. I loved every moment we spent together. I would have done anything for you, anything to make you happy. And then Lilith appeared, and it was like… I lost sight of everything, even myself. And I’m so sorry, Adam. I’m so sorry for hurting you like that. I can’t… I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”

His breath came faster, his heart racing as he leaned closer, his forehead nearly touching Adam’s.

“Please,” he gasped, desperation bleeding into his voice. “Please believe me, Adam… please, just believe me.”

But Adam didn’t move. His chest remained still, his lips unmoving, his eyes closed. Adam was gone, lost to him forever, and there was no forgiveness left to give.

And the truth was, it didn’t end there. He knew that. It had only gotten worse. With every betrayal, every hurtful word, he had crushed any possibility of Adam ever forgiving him. The garden’s peace had been shattered the day he offered Eve the apple of knowledge, sealing their fates, twisting their lives in ways they could never repair. And… he’d done worse, so much worse. Seducing Eve, leading her astray beneath the same tree where he and Lilith had once been together—it was a cruelty he couldn’t justify, a cruelty he could barely comprehend. God, what had he been thinking? What kind of twisted satisfaction had he found in that, in taking from Adam everything that mattered?

He had shattered Adam’s life piece by piece, and yet, even then, Adam had been forced to face him time and time again. When Heaven and Hell would meet, when Sera dragged Adam into those dreadful meetings, he’d seen the reluctance, the pain in Adam’s eyes, how he didn’t want to be there, didn’t want to face either him or Lilith. But he had no choice. And Lucifer… he hadn’t been kind. Neither he nor Lilith had shown him an ounce of mercy. They had ridiculed him, humiliated him, found twisted joy in watching him squirm, powerless and betrayed. And why? Why had he been so cruel? What purpose had it served?

He looked down, his heart aching as he remembered those meetings, the way Adam had silently endured every word, every insult, sitting there, taking it, never once fighting back. Adam had suffered, and Lucifer had watched, almost revelling in it, as if punishing Adam would somehow heal the cracks in his own broken heart. As if hurting Adam could numb his own pain. But he had only hurt himself in the end, lost the one person who had ever mattered to him.

And when the Extermination finally came, when the heavens unleashed their wrath, Lucifer had known, deep down, that they deserved it. Every drop of blood, every scream, every life lost—he and Lilith had brought it upon themselves. They had forced Adam’s hand, driven him to the breaking point. And now, here he was, kneeling in front of Adam’s lifeless form, begging for forgiveness that would never come.

He leaned down, pressing his forehead to Adam’s cold chest, his voice barely a whisper.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his words broken and raw. “I’m so sorry… I’m so… so sorry…”

And there, in the quiet, he finally allowed himself to cry, his tears falling like ashes, a silent lament for the life he had destroyed, for the love he had lost forever.

With trembling hands, Lucifer finally reached out, his fingers brushing over Adam’s chest, desperate to feel any sign of life, any hint of warmth. But there was nothing. No steady drum of a heartbeat, no soft rise and fall of breath. Just silence, a vast and hollow silence that ripped through him like a jagged blade.

His eyes widened, hot tears spilling down his cheeks as memories surged to the surface. In Eden, he had often rested his head against Adam’s chest, lulled by the comforting rhythm of his heartbeat. It had been one of his favourite things, to lie there and listen to that soft, steady pulse. It had felt like… like home. It had felt like safety, like something real and lasting. He had loved it, loved Adam, loved him more than he had ever been able to admit.

But now—now there was nothing. Just silence.

Lucifer's throat tightened as he leaned down, pressing his face against Adam’s chest, willing the warmth back, willing that familiar heartbeat to start up again. He held his breath, straining his ears, hoping, begging for the faintest thump of life. Just one beat, one inhale, anything. But there was nothing. Nothing.

Nothing.

A sob wrenched from his throat, harsh and broken, as the realization finally crashed over him, too powerful to deny. Adam was gone. Truly gone. There would be no laughter, no teasing words, no forgiveness. The connection he had always felt with Adam, that subtle warmth in the back of his mind that told him Adam was alive, was… gone. Severed, leaving only an aching, freezing emptiness in its place. For the first time in eons, Lucifer felt truly, utterly alone.

He clutched at Adam’s robes, his claws slicing through the fabric as he buried his face deeper into Adam’s chest, his sobs tearing through him, raw and desperate.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice barely more than a broken breath. “Please… please come back. Adam, please… I’m begging you. Just… just come back.”

But Adam lay silent, unmoving, his body a hollow shell. His soul, the vibrant light that had filled Lucifer’s darkest moments with hope, with warmth, was gone. Lost to him forever.

Lucifer clutched harder, his claws rending the cloth, his entire body shaking with the force of his sobs.

“I’m so sorry, Addie,” he choked out, the nickname slipping from his lips as if by instinct, a final, broken plea to the friend he had loved and failed. “I’m so… so sorry.”

He lay there, crushed beneath the weight of his own grief, pressing his face into Adam’s chest as if he could somehow force life back into him, as if he could somehow undo all the harm he had done. But the silence was deafening, a cruel, unyielding reminder that it was too late. Adam was gone, and no amount of sorrow, no amount of regret could bring him back.

Lucifer’s cries echoed through the barren, smoking expanse of Hell, raw and unrestrained, like a wound torn open, bleeding out all the pain and love he had carried for so long, hidden even from himself. And for the first time, Lucifer understood the full measure of his loss. There would be no redemption, no second chance. The love he had been too proud, too blind to claim was gone, leaving him hollow, shattered in a way that no amount of time could heal.

And there, alone in the endless silence, Lucifer wept, clutching Adam’s lifeless form as if he could somehow hold onto him, even as everything he had ever loved slipped through his fingers, leaving nothing but an aching void where his heart had once been.

Lucifer’s body was numb, every muscle trembling and strained as he finally stepped back from Adam’s grave. Beneath the smoky sky of Hell, in his hidden garden—a small oasis of fragile memories and forbidden nostalgia—Adam now rested. The garden had been Lucifer’s sanctuary, his one secret, private place built from the remnants of Eden that still clung to his soul. It was his slice of paradise in the darkness, a testament to the life and love he’d lost. Lilith had scoffed at it, her distaste a constant reminder of their fractured souls and desires, but he had never let go. The garden had been everything to him.

Slowly, Lucifer lowered himself to his knees, his hand hovering over the freshly turned earth. His claws brushed the soil, and as his fingers spread, a stream of red carnations and roses bloomed from the earth, unfurling over Adam’s grave like blood-red whispers. The blossoms curled around his fingers, soft and warm, almost as if they carried Adam’s presence.

"I’m so sorry, Addie,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper, hoarse from days of weeping. He traced the petals with delicate care, caressing the earth as though it were Adam himself. “I wish things had been different. I wish I’d known… I wish I’d understood what you truly meant to me back in Eden.”

Lucifer’s voice cracked, and he closed his eyes, the weight of his regret pressing down like an ocean. He had always thought he had time, always thought he could mend things one day, that somehow, he could make Adam see the love he had hidden, buried deep under pride and mistakes. But there was no longer time—just this garden and a grave he had made for the only one who had ever really understood him.

“I turned you into something you weren’t,” he continued, his tears flowing freely. “You were gentle… so full of life. That angel who became a soldier, who destroyed so much—he wasn’t you. He was my shadow, my mistake. You deserved so much better.”

He wiped a tear away, though more kept coming, unbidden. “I wish I could have made you happy.”

He struggled to his hooves, his body exhausted, but as he rose, a glint of gold caught his eye. He paused, his heart lurching painfully. A golden feather lay on the ground, dusted with earth yet still gleaming faintly in the dimness. He bent down and picked it up with reverent fingers, holding it to his chest as his vision blurred with fresh tears. Adam’s feathers had always captivated him, their radiance beyond anything he had seen. They had been perfect, beautiful… like Adam himself.

With a shaking breath, Lucifer held the feather close, pressing it against his heart as though it could fill the empty void that Adam’s loss had left behind.

“I love you, Addie,” he whispered to the flowers, to the silence, to the golden thread of memory still tethered to his heart. “I know you never believed me… but I did. I do. Even if I ruined everything, even if I hurt you. I love you.”

A tear slipped down his cheek, and he bowed his head, clutching the feather as if it were his lifeline. He had made terrible, unforgivable choices—choices that had cost him Eden, that had shattered whatever Adam, and he had once shared. And now he was alone, doomed to live in a Hell he could never escape.

A quiet, desperate plea escaped his lips, broken and raw. “I wish… I wish I could die too. To be anywhere but here, to be free… but Hell won’t let me go.”

Lucifer’s shoulders slumped, weighed down by endless despair, and he closed his eyes, cradling the feather as though it were Adam himself. He cast one last lingering look at the grave before he disappeared in a shuddering burst of golden flame.

He reappeared in his chambers, the cold and darkness pressing in on him as he sank down onto his bed. Around him, rubber ducks filled the room in bright, absurd little heaps, mocking him with their silly smiles. They were his only companions now, his only solace. Adam was gone. There was no one left.

Lucifer crawled into the pile, uncaring as the ducks scattered and tumbled around him, and clutched Adam’s feather to his face, breathing in its faint, lingering scent. He curled up tightly, his wings folded around him as he nestled into the feather, as if trying to burrow into the memory of the man he had lost.

In the silence, he closed his eyes, willing the pain to ebb, but it only sharpened, growing more intense as he nuzzled the feather, desperate for any remaining trace of Adam. He lay there, alone, his broken heart bleeding into the darkness, haunted by the love he had lost and the choices he could never undo.

Lucifer’s eyes felt gritty, his head pounding as he slowly stirred from a cold, fitful sleep. The darkness seemed alive, pressing in on him like a weight, filling his chest with a pain that twisted and grew until he whimpered, his claws clutching at the thick blankets tangled around him. As he drifted into sleep, his mind unravelled into strange, painful visions—memories and dreams stitched together into a haunting tapestry.

He saw Adam, standing in Eden’s sunlight, looking as he had in the earliest days—soft, serene, his golden wings shining as he laughed, his warm gaze fixed on Lucifer. Lucifer reached out, heart swelling with a desperate need to close the distance, to be with Adam again in their paradise. He stumbled forward, calling out promises he’d failed to keep, promises to do better, to be better for Adam. But Adam only stood there, smiling that same distant, heartbreaking smile, as though Lucifer’s words were a faint echo.

The harder Lucifer tried to reach him, the further Adam seemed to drift, like a mirage on the edge of his vision. Lucifer’s six wings beat furiously as he tried to fly, but the space between them widened, and his strength faltered. He stumbled, his robes—once pure and pristine—dragging him down as he fell to the earth. Mud splattered over him, and when he looked down, he saw his hooves—his demonic, twisted form reflecting back at him. One of his eyes had turned red, dark and unholy, a cruel reminder of what he had become.

Adam stood there, golden and radiant, watching him with unreadable eyes before turning, his wings folding as he started to walk away.

“Wait,” Lucifer gasped, his voice raw, clawing at the earth to pull himself forward. “Please, Addie, wait! Don’t leave me!”

But Adam only grew smaller, his image fading until there was nothing but a memory slipping away like sand through his fingers. Lucifer screamed into the darkness, his voice breaking with grief.

With a strangled gasp, he jolted awake, heart pounding as he sat up, clutching his chest. His chamber was dim and quiet, the dark blankets draping over him like the weight of his despair. His skin felt clammy and wrong, as though he were covered in a thin layer of despair he couldn’t shake. Curling forward, he hugged his knees, his claws digging into the quilt as choked sobs slipped from his lips. The pain of loss, of loneliness, stabbed into him like shards of ice.

Suddenly, a gentle, almost ethereal touch grazed his shoulder, soft and warm. Lucifer froze, his body going rigid as a familiar voice broke the silence, filled with tenderness.

“Luci… did you have a nightmare?”

He dared not breathe. His pulse roared in his ears as he slowly turned, his gaze locking onto a pair of golden eyes—soft, kind, impossibly familiar. For a moment, he could only stare, feeling as if he’d slipped into yet another dream. The face before him, full of compassion and warmth, was one he’d thought lost forever.

“A-Adam?” he stammered, voice barely above a whisper. His eyes grew wide, disbelief painting every line of his face.

Adam looked at him with gentle concern, his golden eyes glowing faintly. “Hey, Luci… you look pale. Are you alright?”

He raised a hand to touch Lucifer’s face, but Lucifer jerked back, as if burned. His heart raced, his mind reeling as he scrambled backward, his gaze darting around the room.

He blinked, noticing that the cramped piles of rubber ducks—his bizarre, lonely treasures—were gone. In their place were shelves filled with carefully arranged, exquisite little ducks, each displayed with precision and care. His chamber seemed larger, familiar yet somehow transformed, warmer.

"Luci?" Adam’s voice brought him back, and Lucifer turned to see Adam still sitting there, his eyes filled with a soft, steady patience. He was so close, so real—Lucifer could almost feel the warmth radiating from him. Adam poked his cheek playfully, brows knitting in confusion.

“Are you alright? Did you hit your head?”

Lucifer’s breath caught. He stared at Adam, searching his gaze for some sign, some confirmation of what he was seeing.

“What… what’s going on?” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Why are you… why are you here? Why are you in my bed?”

Adam chuckled softly, his expression as open and pure as it had been in Eden. “Luci, how hard did you hit your head?”

He reached out, his hand brushing Lucifer’s hair with a tenderness that made Lucifer’s heart ache.

Lucifer swallowed, his mind racing. This couldn’t be real—it was impossible. But as he looked into Adam’s golden eyes, feeling the soft warmth of his touch, he felt something long dead flicker within him, fragile and terrified of breaking.

“Addie…” he breathed, reaching out, his fingers hovering just inches from Adam’s cheek, too afraid to touch. The reality of Adam’s warmth, his nearness, felt like a forbidden dream. "Is it… really you?"

Adam smiled softly, the warmth of his presence settling around them both like a balm. "It’s me, Luci. I’m here.”

Lucifer’s heart skipped, his chest tightening with an emotion he hadn’t felt in eons. The ache that had haunted him for so long began to soften, the darkness retreating just enough to let in a flicker of hope.

Lucifer’s body surged forward with a frantic energy, scrambling onto the bed with a clumsy urgency. His usually pristine golden hair was a dishevelled mess, wild locks sticking out as if echoing the storm of emotions within him. Reaching for Adam’s hands, Lucifer clasped them tightly, his fingers trembling. He let out a shaky, half-choked laugh that dissolved into a sound halfway between wonder and despair.

“You’re… you’re alive! Addie, you’re alive,” he whispered, his voice thick with disbelief, each word a shuddering breath as though speaking might shatter the fragile reality before him. His heart, long numbed by guilt and despair, throbbed now with a vulnerable intensity.

Adam’s golden eyes, warm yet puzzled, met his with a quiet concern, his gentle gaze unchanging, almost cautious. But Lucifer couldn’t stop. Words spilled from him like a dam bursting, rushing forward in an almost feverish cascade.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so—so sorry. Please, forgive me. For everything I did, everything I didn’t do. I never wanted to hurt you; I just… I just wanted us to be close again. I ruined it all, Addie. I don’t deserve—”

His voice cracked, the words piling up, unable to keep pace with the grief he’d buried so deep.

As Lucifer leaned forward, trying to draw closer to Adam, he suddenly stopped, his chest jolting as something solid pressed against him, keeping him just out of reach. His brows furrowed in confusion, and he glanced down, seeing the curve of the blankets bulging slightly, pressed firm against his stomach. Whatever was hidden beneath them felt solid, almost weighty, and he instinctively reached to pull the covers back, baffled.

Adam giggled softly, a rosy blush colouring his cheeks. “I think I’ve gotten… bigger,” he murmured, an air of shy humour in his voice.

Lucifer blinked, his gaze darting from Adam’s face back down to the mysterious curve beneath the covers. It was then he noticed how strikingly different Adam looked: healthier, more radiant, his cheeks free of the hollow shadows and weariness Lucifer remembered. Adam’s skin seemed to almost glow, and atop his head were two delicate horns, a soft shade of blue that stirred memories of his own former self, back before the fall.

Adam fidgeted slightly, his expression shifting to one of slight embarrassment.

“You don’t think I’m… fat, do you?” he asked, eyes dropping self-consciously, though they glimmered with a touch of humour.

Fat? Lucifer thought, dazed. He remembered a time he’d teased Adam about putting on weight, but now his throat tightened with remorse. Shaking his head, he murmured, “No, Addie. You’re not… you’re not fat. You’re beautiful, like always.”

He leaned forward, but again that mysterious object kept them apart. Growing impatient, Lucifer carefully drew back the quilt, eyes widening as the reality settled over him.

The rounded swell of Adam’s stomach was unmistakable, pressing against the soft blue fabric of his shirt. It wasn’t the softness of excess but rather a firm, natural curve—like a promise, a secret harbouring a fragile new life. Lucifer’s mouth dropped open as he stared in shock.

“You’re… you’re pregnant,” he whispered, a high, incredulous pitch to his voice, awe and disbelief mingling in his words. “How—how did this happen?”

Adam laughed, a soft, musical sound that seemed to fill the room with warmth. His cheeks flushed a lovely shade of pink, and he reached down, placing a gentle hand over the curve of his stomach.

 “I think you know exactly how, Luci,” he teased, voice tender, but with a knowing light in his eyes. “Six months ago… don’t you remember? It was after our anniversary.”

Anniversary? What did that even mean?

Lucifer’s mind spun, the ancient gears in his head struggling to find traction. His brow furrowed as he tried to grasp Adam’s words, though they slipped through his understanding like sand. The weight of confusion pressed on him as he blinked furiously, shifting his gaze to steady himself, to ground himself in Adam's presence.

"It was just after our 300th anniversary," Adam murmured softly, a warm hum that filled the room. He wore a gentle, almost shy smile as he glanced down at the small but unmistakable swell of his belly. "It was… a bit of a surprise. Neither of us expected it—not after Charlie. But we’re happy, aren’t we?”

Adam’s gaze lifted, and Lucifer caught the flicker of vulnerability there, the unspoken fear that nestled in his husband’s eyes. The usually composed Adam looked almost… fragile.

His voice quivered, softer now, as he asked, “You’re still happy, aren’t you, Luci? About the baby?”

Adam’s hand drifted protectively to his stomach, his brow creased with worry. “You… you haven’t changed your mind, have you?”

Lucifer’s throat tightened. The question held weight—no, not weight. A gravity. He didn’t fully understand what was happening, but he could see how much it mattered to Adam. Whatever was going on, he would figure it out. Somehow. Later.

"Of course, I’m happy!" he said, his voice cracking slightly, and he winced at the sound of it. Still, he moved closer to Adam, his hand instinctively reaching out to rest on his shoulder. He let his fingers slide to Adam’s stomach, his touch cautious, reverent. “I’m… I’m so very happy about… our baby.”

Adam released a slow breath, his tension ebbing away. He leaned into Lucifer, who quickly wrapped his arms around him, supporting him as though he were cradling the most delicate treasure. For a moment, Lucifer felt unsure, but Adam's warmth, his trust, softened something deep within him.

"I love you, Luci," Adam whispered, his voice thick with sleep and sweet with affection. His eyelids fluttered, and he yawned softly, pressing closer to Lucifer. "I’m so happy we… fell together.”

Lucifer’s eyes widened. Fell together. The words struck him as if he were hearing them for the first time. He took in their room—a chamber he knew well, yet tonight it was somehow transformed, bathed in a serene, tender shade of blue. Every edge of the room softened, a haven unlike any place he'd ever known.

"Luci…" Adam murmured, tugging him down toward the bed. "I’m tired. Let’s go back to sleep.”

Lucifer nodded slowly, lowering himself beside Adam. His gaze stayed glued to his face, mesmerized by the peaceful smile that lingered on Adam’s lips, the faint glow of pure contentment that radiated from him.

“I love you, Luci,” Adam whispered, eyes finally closing, his breathing slowing as he drifted into sleep.

Lucifer swallowed, the words catching in his throat as he reached out, his fingers trembling slightly as he gently stroked his hand along Adam's arm. "I… I love you too," he whispered, his voice fragile yet earnest.

Adam sighed softly in his sleep, and as Lucifer held him close, he felt something blossom inside him—something ancient, eternal, but also achingly new. An inexplicable longing settled over him, as if he were relearning the meaning of love in the warmth of Adam’s steady breaths, the rise and fall of his chest.

ucifer lay still beside Adam, watching his husband slumber, mesmerized by the soft rise and fall of his chest, the faint smile lingering on his lips even in sleep. Lucifer didn’t know how long he lay there, simply unable to look away. He couldn't. Not when, in the life he remembered, he had just been kneeling by Adam's corpse, his face drenched in tears. What was going on? Adam had died… hadn’t he? Lucifer had buried him, laid him to rest in the heart of Eden, his most cherished garden, a place he had never allowed anyone else.

Carefully, Lucifer slipped from the bed, ensuring he didn’t disturb Adam. He swung his legs to the floor, glancing down and feeling the faintest flicker of surprise. He was shirtless, and instead of his usual dark pajamas, he wore an unexpected pair of bright, duck-themed boxers. They were… adorable? He squinted, not recognizing them at all.

He padded softly across the room, his hooves sinking into the plush carpet that covered the floor. This, too, was new—a rich, comforting shade that he’d never seen before in his chamber. His gaze drifted to the walls, noticing how they were no longer draped in the austere, heavy tapestries he remembered. Instead, they were painted in soothing colors, warm and soft, lending the room a sense of calm he hadn’t known he craved. Lucifer frowned, his chest tightening, feeling both out of place and strangely at home.

His eyes caught on a golden-framed portrait on the wall. He knew this painting well—or at least he thought he did. The original painting had been a bittersweet reminder of his life with Lilith and their young daughter, Charlie, back when she was just a toddler. A painful relic. But as he approached, he realized this was… different.

Adam stood beside him in the painting, taking Lilith’s place. His face radiated joy, his arm around their daughter. And Charlie—her hair wasn’t the familiar gold from his memories but a soft hazel, like Adam’s. Lucifer’s heart skipped a beat, his pulse thundering in his chest as he stared at this family that, impossibly, seemed his own.

He tore his gaze away and slipped out of the chamber, the quiet of the corridor wrapping around him like a gentle mist. As he wandered through the halls, he noticed more and more differences. The cold, intimidating decor Lilith had favored was gone, replaced by something warmer, softer, and infinitely more welcoming. The walls, once adorned with shadowy tapestries and harsh colors, now bore gentle hues, punctuated by warm lights that cast a peaceful glow along the polished floors. Lucifer felt his chest tighten, an ache he couldn’t quite name blooming within him. The more he saw, the more he found himself… liking it. It was a home, not just a fortress.

Eventually, Lucifer found himself at the door of his office—the room where he’d spent countless hours handling his duties as King of Hell. He reached out, grasping the door handle, and pushed it open. The moment he stepped inside, he froze. His office, once chaotic and piled high with endless, neglected paperwork, was now spotless. Everything was in perfect order, from the neatly stacked files to the immaculate desk. His neglected paperwork—months, no, years of backlogged duties he’d ignored in his grief—was nowhere to be seen.

His eyes drifted to a shelf by the window. A collection of small, duck figurines, each carefully placed inside a glass box, caught his eye. They looked rare and almost precious, and as Lucifer studied them, he felt an unfamiliar sense of warmth, almost amusement, stirring within him. There was something endearing, something so distinctly Adam about their presence here.

Slowly, Lucifer moved to his desk, trailing his clawed fingers along its smooth surface before picking up a small picture frame. He lowered himself into his plush chair, his eyes fixed on the photo. In the picture, he was cuddling up to Adam, who was visibly pregnant, his belly round and full. Adam looked radiant, though there was a hint of tiredness, even fragility, in his face. But they both looked… happy. So happy it made Lucifer’s chest ache.

He set the frame down carefully, his gaze flicking around the office once more. Books he recognized lined the shelves, yet they seemed to have been meticulously organized and, shockingly, read. The daunting pile of work he had once allowed to fester was not only done but years ahead. How… had that happened? He swallowed, feeling an odd mixture of awe and unease.

Standing up, he left the office and drifted back into the corridor. His eyes caught on more paintings adorning the walls—scenes of a life he had never lived, and yet somehow they felt achingly familiar. One painting showed him standing beside Adam, each with an arm around Charlie, who was beaming with happiness, her hazel eyes bright with love. Another showed them all on a picnic under a willow tree, Charlie tugging at Lucifer’s hand as she laughed. There was one where a teenage Charlie, looking every bit like her mother, was rolling her eyes at Lucifer, though her mouth held a small, affectionate smile.

Lucifer’s steps slowed as he studied each painting, heart thudding as he took in the thousands of moments they depicted. They painted a life he had never dared to dream—a life where he had fallen not with Lilith, but with Adam, a life where they had been damned together and yet had somehow found a way to build a family, a future, a love that shone even here, in Hell. In this life, he had watched Charlie grow, had raised her with Adam by his side, had been part of her life even in her teenage years, when she’d likely rebelled against them both. And she looked so… happy. Every image radiated the joy she’d shared with them, a warmth that lingered in her gaze, a trust and love she had for her parents.

In his own life, there had been no paintings of those years. No laughter, no memories captured of a teenage Charlie by his side. He had lost her trust, had watched her pull away, leaving him with only the shadow of what might have been.

But here… here she was, smiling. Bright-eyed. Free.

Lucifer's breath hitched, a wave of raw emotion rising within him, fierce and unfamiliar. He reached out, fingers grazing the frame of a painting where they all stood together, a family complete, unbroken by the pain that had shadowed his own life.

How was any of this possible? Had he been given another chance, a glimpse into what he could have had? Or was this some cruel illusion, designed to haunt him? As he stood in the corridor, surrounded by memories of a love and a family he had never truly known, he realized that he didn’t care whether this was real or not. This life, these moments—it was a world he wanted to live in. A world where he was loved and had chosen love in return.

He inhaled slowly, his gaze lingering on one last painting—one where he and Adam were dancing, eyes locked, laughter spilling from their lips. In that moment, Lucifer vowed that, however this had happened, he would not let this world slip away. Not again.

Lucifer returned to his chamber, standing outside the heavy doors as he drew a deep breath, his heart pounding wildly at the thought of what awaited him within. He reached out, his hands trembling slightly, and pushed the door open, slipping quietly inside. His hooves felt strangely unsteady, and his fingers twitched at his sides as he approached the enormous, inviting bed.

There, nestled in the tangle of blankets and quilts, was Adam, still fast asleep. The sight made Lucifer pause. Adam looked so peaceful, his expression soft and untroubled as he burrowed further into the cozy warmth of the bed. It was endearing, seeing him like this, utterly relaxed. Lucifer felt a pang of something sweet and gentle, something he hadn’t felt in far too long.

Adam looked… perfect, like he belonged here, like he had always belonged in Lucifer’s bed, in his life.

Swallowing the surge of emotions threatening to overwhelm him, Lucifer reached down, gently pinching the corner of the blankets, lifting them, and sliding himself under. He moved slowly, carefully, until he was right beside Adam. Close enough to feel his warmth, to catch the faint scent of him. And then, with a trembling hand, he reached out, brushing his fingers against Adam’s cheek. The skin was soft, warm, alive.

He’s really here.

He could feel the gentle heat radiating from Adam, the slow rise and fall of his chest, each breath a quiet reminder that Adam was, impossibly, still with him. And as he lay there, watching, he heard something else—a soft, sleepy hum, an occasional quiet laugh, as though Adam were lost in a pleasant dream.

Lucifer’s heart fluttered, a warmth spreading through him. He realized he was smiling, his own breath catching in his chest as he whispered, “I want to see more.”

He inched closer, and as he did, Adam shifted, instinctively snuggling into him, pressing against him with the innocent trust of someone who felt safe, completely at ease. Lucifer’s heart swelled, and he couldn’t resist the urge to nuzzle into Adam’s hair, letting its softness tickle his face, breathing in his scent.

“I want to see more, Addie,” he murmured, his voice low and full of wonder. “I want to see more, Addie. I want to see what else is different.”

He let his fingers trail gently through Adam's hair, the silky strands slipping through his claws as he breathed in the familiar, comforting scent of him. It was an intimacy he’d never quite allowed himself before, a closeness he hadn’t known he craved until now. He nuzzled his face into Adam's hair, letting the warmth settle into his bones as he wrapped his arms around Adam, holding him like a lifeline.

“I want to see how our lives have changed… together,” he murmured, his voice barely audible, but the words felt monumental, a promise spoken into the quiet stillness of the room.

As he lay there, breathing in sync with Adam, Lucifer felt the exhaustion of countless lifetimes begin to ebb away, replaced by a warmth that wrapped around him like a blanket. A life like this… it was something he’d never allowed himself to even imagine, but now, in this quiet moment, it felt possible. Real. His eyelids grew heavy, and his breathing slowed, matching Adam’s as he drifted closer to sleep, nestled against the man who had always been his tether.

Just before sleep took him, a thought drifted through his mind—a wish, a quiet yearning, Please… let this be real.

And as he surrendered to slumber, Lucifer felt the unfamiliar but deeply welcome sensation of feeling safe, cocooned in a warmth that he wanted to last forever.

When Lucifer awoke, his whole body felt uncommonly… good. There was no lingering ache, no dull exhaustion pressing on his bones, and the familiar cold pang that usually twisted in his chest was… gone. He shifted within the warm embrace of the blankets, savoring the comfort of the bed. A soft, contented yawn escaped him as he rolled onto his back and opened his eyes, taking in the hazy morning light filtering into the room. He blinked a few times, rubbing his face with one hand, feeling well-rested in a way he hadn’t known in what felt like ages.

But then he noticed something amiss—his side felt unusually cold, the spot beside him vacant. Lucifer frowned and rolled onto his side, sliding his hand across the sheets in search of the warmth he expected to find there. Only emptiness met his touch.

His heart leapt into his throat, panic flaring in his chest as he scrambled upright. The sheets tangled around his legs, and before he could steady himself, he stumbled, crashing to the floor in a tangle of quilts and limbs. He winced as his chin hit the ground, but the urgency pulsing within him was far too strong to let that stop him. Ignoring the faint ache, he quickly scrambled to his hooves, his gaze darting around the chamber, anxiety tightening in his chest.

The room was just as it had been last night—spotlessly tidy, softly inviting, as if crafted to hold a sense of peace he’d longed for but never believed he could have. Yet something was wrong. Where was Adam?

Just as he was about to rush out the door in a desperate search, it swung open, and there stood Adam, looking somewhat startled as he took in the sight of Lucifer, wide-eyed and slightly dishevelled, in the middle of the room. Adam’s golden eyes flickered over the mess Lucifer had made in his hurried rise from bed. He blinked, then met Lucifer's gaze with a concerned, puzzled expression.

“Um… a-are you okay?” Adam asked softly, his brow furrowing as he took in the room and then settled his eyes back on Lucifer.

Without hesitation, Lucifer crossed the room, grasping Adam’s hands as if afraid he might vanish if he didn’t hold on tight. “Where were you?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, thick with relief yet tinged with the lingering panic that had clawed at him moments before.

A sheepish smile curled across Adam’s lips. “I had to… you know, pee.”

He gestured toward his round belly, and the explanation clicked into place in Lucifer’s mind. Oh. Of course. That made perfect sense. Lucifer’s face flushed, and he released a small, embarrassed whine, his head dipping as he let out a shaky breath.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice softened with self-consciousness. “I woke up, and you were gone, and I just… I thought…”

Adam reached up, his hand gentle as he cupped Lucifer’s chin and tilted his face up to meet his gaze. The warmth in Adam’s golden eyes melted away any lingering fear, the softness of his expression like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. He smiled, a soft, loving curve of his lips that made Lucifer’s heart skip a beat.

“I’m fine,” Adam reassured him, his voice gentle and soothing. “I’m not sick or anything. You’ve got to stop worrying so much.”

Lucifer trembled under that affectionate gaze, his own heart beating so fiercely he was sure Adam could feel it through his hands. Then, without warning, Adam leaned in, his lips brushing over Lucifer’s in a brief, feather-light kiss that sent shockwaves through Lucifer’s entire being. Adam’s lips were warm, softer than he’d imagined, and the brief press of them against his left him frozen, every thought scattering like dust on the wind.

When Adam pulled away, Lucifer’s face burned crimson, his mind still reeling. He’d just had his first kiss with Adam—a kiss he had never dared dream would happen. It was perfect, in every way he’d never imagined it could be.

“I love you,” Adam murmured, his hands giving Lucifer’s a gentle squeeze. “But remember, I’m not made of china. I’m just… pregnant.”

He smiled with a playful glint in his eyes, as if inviting Lucifer to relax, to let go of his worries.

Lucifer nodded slowly, his face still a bright, unmistakable red as he absorbed the warmth of those words. Adam had kissed him. He had actually kissed him. And, more importantly, he’d said… I love you.

Lucifer could barely breathe, the words echoing in his mind, wrapping around his heart and lighting something within him that he’d thought long dead.

Before he could respond, Adam chuckled softly, stepping back and giving Lucifer a teasing smile. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

“Maybe I have,” Lucifer murmured, more to himself than to Adam, his voice still laced with wonder. This felt like a dream, a vivid and impossibly sweet vision he feared would dissolve if he blinked too hard.

Adam laughed, shaking his head as he rubbed his belly. “Well, this ghost is starving. Come on, Luci—let’s go see if there’s anything good in the kitchen.”

He started to shuffle toward the door, glancing back with a playful smile, and Lucifer, still reeling, followed.

As they walked through the halls, Lucifer's gaze lingered on Adam, unable to look away from the quiet beauty of this life. He was here, in a world that felt too beautiful to be real, and for the first time in what felt like centuries, he allowed himself to believe it was possible.

Lucifer followed Adam down the hallway, lingering a step behind, still grappling with the strangeness and sweetness of this new reality. As they entered the kitchen, Lucifer paused, taking in the space with a faint frown. The room was cozy, modestly sized, a far cry from the grandiose kitchen in his dominion. Here, everything seemed designed for warmth rather than grandeur—cabinets of warm wood, a sturdy stove, countertops speckled with flour dust and softened by the morning light filtering in through the window.

He barely had time to absorb it all before Adam made a beeline for the cupboards, his movements full of purpose and energy. Lucifer watched, feeling a strange fondness wash over him as he saw Adam pull out ingredients with practiced ease, his hands working with a confidence that seemed almost ritualistic.

“Adam, you’re pregnant,” Lucifer began, stepping forward and watching Adam stack flour, eggs, and milk on the counter. “You should be resting.”

Adam glanced over his shoulder, an easy laugh escaping him as he shook his head.

“You know I don’t like to rest, Luci. I need to be doing something—always,” he said, his golden eyes dancing with amusement.

Lucifer’s chest tightened. He didn’t know that. He didn’t know this about Adam. The realization settled over him, heavy and unsettling. There were layers, entire dimensions of this man, that Lucifer hadn’t known in his former life. His voice softened as he reached forward, taking Adam’s hand in his own.

“We could just… call for a servant to do it. You don’t need to strain yourself.��

Adam’s brows arched. “Servant? What servants?”

Lucifer blinked, caught off guard. “I… well, I mean, I assumed…”

He trailed off, searching for an explanation. “I could conjure whatever you want to eat. It’d be nothing.”

But instead of agreeing, Adam laughed again, a sound so pure and sweet it made Lucifer’s heart clench. Adam reached up, gently patting Lucifer’s cheek. “Oh, Luci, you always know how to make me laugh. But you know I don’t like it when you use your magic for things I can do myself.”

Lucifer’s gaze held a flicker of confusion. He wasn’t joking, yet somehow, without even intending it, he’d managed to make Adam laugh.

“But, I just… I really want you to rest,” he muttered, shifting his weight, his hooves shuffling on the floor. “You’re six months pregnant, Adam. You should be taking it easy.”

Adam’s gaze softened; his expression so tender that Lucifer felt his resolve begin to melt away.

“Luci, we’ve talked about this,” Adam murmured, reaching for his hand and lacing their fingers together. The warmth of Adam’s hand in his own was grounding, an anchor in this unfamiliar world.

“Cooking… it makes me happy,” Adam continued, his voice filled with gentle reassurance. “It’s how I show my love. And I know you get worried, but you don’t have to. I’m alright. I’m stronger this time.”

Lucifer swallowed, his gaze lingering on their intertwined hands. The love and confidence in Adam’s tone soothed something restless within him. This Adam was gentle but unwavering, full of strength yet tender—a warmth Lucifer hadn’t dared let himself imagine before. Lucifer took a shaky breath, squeezing Adam’s hand, the faintest of smiles tugging at the corners of his lips.

“I… I guess I just want to make sure everything’s perfect for you,” he whispered, his voice raw with an honesty he hadn’t realized he’d been holding back. “This… everything about this—about you—means more to me than I can even say.”

Adam’s smile widened, and he reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair back from Lucifer’s face. “I know, Luci. And that’s exactly why it already is perfect.”

Lucifer’s face flushed, his heart racing as he let Adam’s hand slip from his, watching as he returned to the counter with that gentle, devoted smile. Standing there, seeing Adam pour love and care into every movement, Lucifer felt a new determination settle in his chest.

He would protect this, Lucifer vowed silently to himself, this world, this life, this love.

He would do whatever it took to keep it safe, and perhaps, just maybe, let himself believe he truly deserved it.

Lucifer slipped around Adam with practiced finesse, his fingers closing around the bowl before Adam could react.

"How about I make breakfast for a change?" he suggested, his voice smooth and enticing as he flashed Adam a charming, radiant grin—the kind that could melt anyone’s heart.

Adam raised a sceptical eyebrow, not in the least bit swayed. He snorted, reaching to reclaim the bowl. "Oh, really? And what exactly would you make, hm?"

With a playful wink, Lucifer twirled out of Adam’s reach, holding the bowl just out of reach.

"Only my specialty... pancakes!" he announced with an exaggerated flourish.

Adam’s laugh was pure and warm, bubbling up despite his efforts to keep a straight face. “Pancakes, you say? But Luci, you can’t cook."

Lucifer's face morphed into a mock expression of scandalized surprise. "What? Of course I can! I'm an amazing cook!"

Adam laughed harder, clutching his side as if to contain the joyful sound.

“Oh, Luci…” he managed between giggles. “Have you forgotten what happened the last time you tried? Whatever that was supposed to be, it ended up… well, let’s just say it was a bit of a disaster. Black as a hockey puck."

Lucifer pouted, folding his arms in playful indignation. Then, as he caught sight of Adam’s still-giggling face, he let his pout melt into an amused, toothy grin. Ah, so it seems his other self couldn’t cook to save his life. How fascinating.

His eyes glinting with devilish excitement. “But, trust me, I’ve been practicing.”

Adam narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms as he tried to look stern, though his smile betrayed him. "Alright, alright. I suppose I’ll give my lovable husband a chance."

Lucifer practically skipped with joy. "Wonderful! Now, go sit down, put those feet up, and let me take care of everything!"

He leaned in and pecked Adam on the cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin linger against his lips. "Trust me, Addie—you’re going to love this."

Adam let out a resigned sigh, but his eyes were filled with affection as he settled himself at the small kitchen table, resting his hands on his belly. His sceptical smile followed Lucifer as he moved back to the counter, fully claiming the kitchen as his temporary domain. As he glanced back, Lucifer’s heart skipped—a sight that, for all his centuries, felt thrilling and entirely new.

Determined to impress, Lucifer turned to the stove, summoning a light flicker of flames with a single snap of his fingers. He poured flour and cracked eggs with careful focus, hoping his newly claimed cooking confidence wasn’t just bluster. As he whisked the batter, he stole a glance over his shoulder to see Adam watching him with quiet amusement.

There was a softness in Adam’s gaze as he observed Lucifer’s every move, as though watching someone he loved and trusted implicitly. And for the first time, the weight of that trust hit Lucifer with stunning clarity. Here was a man who knew his every flaw and, despite everything, still loved him fully, without hesitation.

After a few moments, Lucifer poured the batter onto the sizzling pan, smiling as the pancakes began to rise and golden, filling the kitchen with the faint, sweet scent of vanilla. He added a bit of flair, flipping each pancake high into the air, turning just enough to catch Adam’s eye. Adam’s chuckle was immediate, and the warmth it sparked in Lucifer’s chest was indescribable.

When the pancakes were finally done, Lucifer arranged them on a plate, meticulously layering them with a pat of butter and a drizzle of syrup, along with a handful of fresh berries he found tucked away in the fridge. He set the plate down before Adam, who looked at him with eyebrows raised in surprise and amusement.

“There you go, Addie,” Lucifer said, sliding into the seat across from him and looking at him expectantly. “The finest pancakes in all of Hell, made by yours truly.”

Adam lifted a fork, spearing a bite of pancake with a hum of approval as he took his first taste. A look of surprise flashed across his face, quickly replaced by delight. "Oh, Luci… these are actually good!"

Lucifer preened under the compliment, his grin widening. “See? What did I tell you? Only the best for my beautiful Queen~”

Adam leaned forward, reaching across the table to brush his hand over Lucifer’s. "Thank you, Luci. It’s perfect."

Lucifer’s heart skipped again, his pulse thrumming in a way it hadn’t in centuries. He squeezed Adam’s hand, the realization dawning on him all over again: he was living in a world he never knew he wanted, with a love he’d never dared believe he deserved.

In this life, every moment was something precious, and he vowed then and there to cherish every single one.

As Lucifer watched Adam from across the table, every glance, every subtle movement of his was a treasure. He leaned forward, his chin resting on his hand, careful not to let his curiosity spill over into suspicion. He wanted to drink in this new life, to savour the unfamiliar tenderness between him and Adam, and he was desperate for more details.

"So, what’s the plan for today?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

Adam’s face lit up immediately.

“Charlie invited me to her hotel!” He beamed; eyes sparkling. “I’m really excited to go!”

The mention of Charlie sent a thrill through Lucifer. His grin spread wide, his mind spinning with questions. Charlie had opened her hotel here too—had it succeeded? What was it like in this world? Was her vision the same as in his own? His heart pounded with anticipation.

"That's wonderful, Addie," he said warmly, eager to learn more but reining himself in. "You know, I’d love to see Charlie too. It’s been… too long."

Adam tilted his head, a bit of confusion creasing his brow.

“You’re… okay with me going, right?” he asked, a hint of apprehension in his voice. “I didn’t want you to be upset.”

Lucifer chuckled, surprised. “Why wouldn’t I be? She’s our baby girl, after all. I’d never stop you from seeing her.”

Relief washed over Adam’s face, and he released a soft laugh. “Oh, that’s good! I was worried you’d get mad…”

Lucifer’s smile slipped ever so slightly, something prickling at the back of his mind. “W-why would I be mad?”

Adam’s gaze dropped to his lap, his expression clouding over.

“It’s just… after the last time I left the mansion…” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

A pang of protectiveness surged in Lucifer, but he held himself back, sensing it was a sensitive subject for Adam. He offered a gentle smile instead, brushing his fingers over Adam’s hand.

“Well,” he said softly, “You’ll be with Charlie. I’m sure she’ll keep an eye on you.”

Adam’s face brightened at that, a grin breaking through the worry. “That’s true! Charlie’s got a good head on her shoulders. Besides, I miss her so much. She’s been so busy with… with the redeemed souls.”

Lucifer’s breath caught. Redeemed souls?

His eyes widened just slightly, the implications overwhelming. Had Charlie actually managed to redeem souls in this world? How had Hell—how had Heaven—reacted? His mind buzzed with a thousand questions, each one more urgent than the last. But he kept his expression calm, pretending as if this was all perfectly normal.

“I really wish you could come too…” Adam’s voice pulled him from his racing thoughts, his words laced with a faint sadness.

Lucifer felt his chest ache, wanting to join him, to witness this new version of Hell alongside his family.

“Why can’t I?” he asked, his tone almost teasing.

Adam arched a brow, giving him a knowing smile. “Luci, you know you can’t just cancel another meeting. I know how you feel about running Hell, but with all the changes going on, it’s… important, right?”

Lucifer quickly nodded, mimicking the confidence he assumed his counterpart would’ve had.

“Of course,” he said, his voice steady. “I can’t neglect my duties.”

Adam let out a quiet sigh, his eyes dropping to the plate of half-eaten pancakes. “Just… don’t work yourself too hard, alright? We hardly have time together as it is, and… I miss you.”

There was a vulnerability in Adam’s tone that struck something deep within Lucifer, a quiet ache that told of lonely nights and missed moments.

He reached across the table, letting his hand rest over Adam’s. “I promise, Addie. I’ll make time. For us.”

Adam’s eyes softened as he squeezed Lucifer’s hand.

“You better,” he teased gently. “Because once this little one’s here, they’re going to want a lot of time with their father.”

Lucifer's heart clenched at the mention of the child—their child. A sudden wave of protectiveness and tenderness washed over him, and he fought to keep his voice steady. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Adam's smile returned, warmer and brighter. "Good. You’d better keep that promise, Luci.”

They finished breakfast in comfortable silence, the weight of unspoken words lingering in the air. As Adam cleared the plates, Lucifer couldn’t help but steal another glance, his mind awash with the marvels of this new life. This world was everything he hadn’t known he wanted, a world where love and redemption were not merely ideas, but truths shaping their lives.

He’d do anything to stay here, to see what other beautiful moments were yet to unfold.

...there was only one problem.

What has happened to the other Lucifer?

[lucyblue101]

You beautiful idiot

Satoru x reader

This one is pure fluff 🥹

Since Sukuna’s defeat, life has changed in ways Satoru never quite expected. With his students growing stronger, taking on missions with skill and confidence, he found himself with more time at home—a luxury he hadn’t truly had in years. It’s meant slower mornings, longer stretches on the couch with you, and the occasional late-night takeout that was no longer rushed or interrupted. And, little by little, that slower pace began to show.

Not that you’d ever complain. If anything, you adored the small changes—the softer, warm weight of him when he’d pull you close, the hint of love handles he’d unconsciously tuck an arm over whenever he’d catch himself in the mirror. He still had that same strong build, with a trace of abs, but now with a bit more softness. And if he seemed the slightest bit self-conscious about it, you planned on fixing that as best you could.

One quiet evening, the two of you were spooned up on the couch, enjoying the stillness, your arm draped over his side. Your face buried in his white hair. Eventually, your hand wandered to the slight curve of his stomach, and you couldn’t help yourself—you started gently tracing small circles over his skin, letting your fingertips drift across his belly.

At first, Satoru only shifted slightly, but as your hand wandered more, he suddenly let out a surprised, breathy laugh, squirming as if he were ticklish. “Hey!” he squealed, looking back at you with a boyish grin, wide blue eyes, his cheeks flushed. “You’re really getting a kick out of this, huh?”

You laughed softly, continuing to brush your fingers over his stomach, feeling the warmth of him beneath your touch. “Maybe a little,” you teased. “But how could I resist?”

He made a halfhearted attempt to wriggle away, letting out another giggle. But then his expression faltered, and he gave a small, self-conscious shrug. “Bet you don’t find me as attractive anymore, huh?” he murmured, almost as if he were only half-joking.

You pressed your hand firmly against his stomach and scooted closer, tucking your head against his shoulder. “Satoru, you beautiful idiot,” you muttered affectionately. “Shut that mouth of yours. I love your tummy.” You gave his side a playful squeeze, earning another squirm and chuckle from him.

“Really?” he asked, and for once, his voice was quieter, almost shy.

“Yes, really,” you assured him, nuzzling closer. “I loved you when you were all lean and sharp, but I really love you with a little bit of softness, too. You’re still my Satoru, and that’s all I need.”

He relaxed a bit at that, his hand covering yours, his fingers tracing over yours as you held him close. He didn’t say much, but you could feel him settle against you, his body relaxing as if he’d let go of something he’d been holding onto. You wrapped both arms around him, pulling him in even tighter, letting him feel your warmth against his back as you nestled against him.

“Alright, alright,” he finally murmured, pressing a small, lazy kiss to your forehead. “But if I start squealing again, that’s your fault.” You laughed, snuggling up to him as you both melted into the quiet comfort of each other, your hands still resting happily over his warm, wonderful tummy.

Tag list (just let me know if you wanna go on it 🥹)

@canigotosleep--plz

@haruhatake

@hargun-s

@itsafairytalekay

@mistymuii

@moonchhu

@tibibibi123

@starlightanyaaa

Comments and feedback back mean the world to me 🥹🫶🏻

[chuellas]

Distraction | He thinks he’s funny but this one particular time, you’d have to disagree.

⤷ Ft. Nakahara Chuuya

Warnings | Fem!reader, Chuuya thinks he’s funny, term “Doll” used, Dazai slander, WC: 840

A/N | Listen, IK I’m a week late for Halloween but i had to post this it was too cute to not share <3

You stare at Chuuya with pursed lips and an unamused expression while you hold the costume he picked out for you. It’s his year to pick your matching costumes and you’re regretting ever giving him that power. A white jumpsuit that’s made out of surprisingly high quality material is being fisted and held up accusingly at your boyfriend who’s already dressed up and ready to go…as a vampire.

“Is this some kind of sick joke? Because if it is, I don’t find it funny.” You look back at the offending outfit and your eye twitches. 

Chuuya lets out a chuckle, clearly amused by your reaction — almost like he expected it. He’s quick to take a few quick steps towards you, now standing in front of you he reaches out and his hands take purchase on your waist, then he pulls you into him. You look away indignantly by swiveling your head to the side, expression still unamused. You usually enjoy his humor but this costume is a reminder of the time you were forced to spend apart thanks to his boss and the very person you are being asked to dress up as.

In other words, you don’t find this funny.

Chuuya shakes his head, still amused, and grabs hold of your chin to turn your head to look at him. His strength is far greater than yours, so you have no choice but to look at him and instantly melt at the wide smile that’s stretching across his face. “C’mon, Doll, you gotta admit that it’s just a little funny, right? Plus, I remember last year how you complained about how uncomfortable your costume was, so I thought this would be a nice change.”

And how in the hell are you supposed to argue with that? A creative and comfortable costume that he so thoughtfully came up with. You have a hard time with keeping up your hardened expression, instead letting your features soften then shift into a pout. 

You let out a defeated sigh and deflate. “That’s not fair…Still think you spent way too much time with that stupid reanimated mummy.”

Chuuya barks out a laugh and his smile grows as he looks at you with pride swimming in his eyes. “You talking ’bout that damn Dazai?”

You nod your head and let out a noise of complaint when Chuuya leans in and litters your face with kisses. “Think I’m rubbing off on ya, maybe you spend way too much time with me.”

You scoff and push away from Chuuya but he doesn’t let you budge, just as stubborn to keep you in his arms as you are to get out of them -- maybe even more. You give it a few more attempts and he just grins at you, still amused by your attitude. You let out a groan and glare at him.

“How am I supposed to get into this ugly thing if you don’t let me go? Don’t you have candy bags to make for the younger Port Mafia members that manage to find us this year? Go away and do that so I can get ready.” You make a show of waving the stupid costume around to really push your point.

The ginger chuckles and finally releases you from his hold. His bicolored eyes shine with excitement as he looks around the vacation rental. “How many do you think will find us this year?”

You think on it for a moment. Each year Chuuya would reserve a vacation rental in a busy neighborhood to pass out candy since his penthouse didn’t exactly allow for visitors. He loves Halloween, something you found slightly surprising when you spent your first one together. Dressing up and spending the night watching Halloween movies and passing out candy. It was fun, something you never would have thought of doing.

He once told you that he never really got to enjoy the holiday as a kid so he tries to make up for it by making other childrens’ night special. Yes, he is that house that passes full sized candies. He’s even made a game out of it for the younger Port Mafia members. They get special goodie bags if they can find him. If they can't, they have to earn the goodie bags the next day. Each year, less and less of them have to spend the next day training. 

“I think most if not all of them will find us, I have a good feeling about tonight.” 

The ginger barely lets you finish your sentence before reaching out again and wrapping his arm around your waist to bring you into a kiss. He’s smiling into it, lips curved up and a breathy chuckle escapes them. It’s contagious, you can’t help the way your own lips stretch upward, a giddy feeling bubbling up in your stomach. The idea of finally getting some time with Chuuya makes you push yourself forward just a little more to deepen the kiss, completely forgetting about the atrocious outfit you’re going to have to wear. 

[invinciblerodent]

I'm just... kinda fascinated by my own little guy.

I mean... he's good, fundamentally. A good person. He's helpful, and he's trying his best to prioritize putting the greatest amount of goodness possible out into the world. And he's devout, literally an ordained priest and a cleric of his faith.

But he's not good because he's devout, or because he's decided to subscribe to this specific religious dogma he just accepts as correct, no matter what, no questions asked- indeed, goodness is not even what his specific faith preaches.

But he's also not good despite that faith either, the two just... happen to coexist in him, as different facets of him. He isn't one for blind acceptance of things as the good and honest moral truth just because the Gods Said So (TM), and his morality is as mutable and subject to change as it is for all- but that affects nothing of his faith, because all that really gives him is the tenacity to act on the moral beliefs that exist independently from religious belief.

He's wracked with fear, and doubt, and insecurity, but he's doing it anyway. He's doing it because the one thing his faith demands is courage (to act, to not sit idly by, to not be afraid of death, to risk life and limb for the cause), and he's doing it that specific way because he believes that that's the right thing to do.

Which, on top of being a fighter, makes him... a bit of a philosopher, kinda, and it kind of explains his high WIS in actually a rather secular way, lol.

I'd fucking love meta about what's going on in this boy's pretty blue head. But, again, gotta write it my own dang self.

ngl, i'm getting a really big kick out of having a character that's a cleric to a neutral deity, especially one that's as prone to philosophizing as Arvid seems to be these days.

i like to imagine that he'll drop something like "godhood demands indifference. It requires, in their infinite grace and wisdom, a measure of apathy, as well as cruelty. In our worship, we forgive them for their folly- how is it so audacious for us to merely hope for the same?"

or "for the gods to judge one's actions, that may be prudent. But to judge the value of one's life as lesser than the weight of duty, however divinely imposed... that's no domain of any other than the self."

or "I cannot dole out absolution, and I'm not one to offer empty platitudes about divine forgiveness in its stead. I can only say that whatever the gods think of the kind -or indeed, the amount- of bravery you require from yourself, it means less than nothing", and I almost feel like he needs to glance at the ceiling briefly, just to confirm that he's not about to get holy-smitten.

holy-smote.

lightning'd in the face. you get it.

meanwhile Tempus, whose whole Deal on top of warfare is honorable combat, specifically courage, and not backing down in the face of adversity is chilling up there like

[stepmom]

season 9 review

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: IT'S GONNA FEEL SO GOOD, I PROMISE!

.ೃ࿐ he's dreamt about fucking you for months, and now that you're finally in his sheets, he has no intent of letting you go—especially when he finds out that he's your first time. NSFW

contents: fem!reader. virgin!reader. kinda sorta subtle coercion, corruption kink, slight dubcon, fingering, p –> v, lots of praise!!, mentions of prior dirty dreams (about you).

author's note: had this stuck in my drafts for a while so uhhhh. yea enjoy. tagging @mymegumi bc i love selene ꨄ︎

"please, baby, it'll feel so good," satoru cooes, threading his fingers through your hair and pulling your face closer to his. "i promise i'll be gentle."

you shrug, scrunching up your nose at satoru hesitantly. "i don't know..."

your boyfriend presses his lips to yours briefly and smiles tenderly. satoru's soft eyes are fixed on you, only you as he widens them pleadingly. "i wanna teach you how to fuck. please, sweetheart, we can stop anytime. jus' wanna make you feel good, i promise!"

it's only partially a lie—yes, satoru certainly wants to teach you to fuck, but he's not entirely certain that he could just stop anytime. especially because he's well aware that fucking a virgin is such an addicting experience—satoru knows you're gonna be so tight that you'll just suck him in, and he isn't that confident that he'll be able to stop once he's started.

but whatever, that's a problem for later—for now, he's focused on persuading you to spread those legs for him and show him your pretty pussy.

you pause, considering his proposal. after a couple seconds, you nod hesitantly. "you promise you'll be gentle?" you ask meekly, averting your eyes.

satoru nods, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. "of course—now c'mon, let's get those clothes off of you, baby." and a couple agonizing minutes later, you're half naked underneath a shirtless satoru, and his fingers trace the inside of your thigh.

"so first, i'm gonna make you cum on my fingers, 'kay?" satoru informs you. "needa loosen you up so you can take my dick."

"o-okay," you whisper, swallowing nervously. "i'm a little scared," you admit, fiddling with the waistband of your lacy underwear. "will it hurt?"

after a moment, satoru nods in response. "at first it will. but then you're gonna feel so good, i promise."

"you promise?"

"i do."

satoru tugs down your panties and grins at the sight of your pussy, untouched and reserved just for him. he's dying to just fuck you then and there, rough and no prep, but he made a promise. and satoru has no intention of breaking it.

"ready?" he breathes, positioning his fingers just outside of your entrance. when you nod, he shakes his head. "i'm gonna need to hear it from you, baby. use your words."

"i'm r-ready," you confirm, inching your thighs farther apart for him.

"good girl."

then satoru slips his fingers inside, and you can't suppress the sudden moan that slips out of your lips. to you, it's embarrassing, but to satoru, it's music to his ears. he steadily pushes his fingers farther and farther into your tight cunt, and satoru can't help but marvel at the way you just suck him in.

"you're so fuckin' tight," satoru mumbles, eyes fixed on your pussy. "and so wet, too. i've barely even touched you, fuck."

it's agonizing, really—the sensation of having someone else's fingers inside of you is so new and so strange that you can almost ignore the pain (which is present but not as throbbing as you had feared). satoru makes sure to be as gentle as he can, which unfortunately isn't quite as gentle as you'd like—but it's not too rough for you to handle.

satoru starts widening his fingers in a scissor-like motion, stretching you farther apart to make room for his already rock-hard dick. you squirm around him and whine about how deep his fingers are, but satoru dismisses your complaints with a laugh. "c'mon, this is barely the beginning. if ya can't take this, how're you gonna take my dick?"

a couple minutes later, when satoru finally deems you loose enough, he pulls out his now-drenched fingers. looking you in the eye with a smug smile, he slips his fingers into his mouth and licks your slick off of them. "mm, you taste so good, pretty. lemme see if you feel as good as you taste, yeah?"

and that's how he convinces you to keep your thighs nice and spread wide open for him as he positions the head of his dick at your entrance, practically trembling from the effort it takes to not just pound into you. you're so compliant and perfect for satoru, and it takes every ounce of his willpower to resist the urge to push you up against the headboard and fuck you until you pass out.

but somehow, he manages to control himself. "alright, baby, this is gonna hurt," satoru warns, touching his reddening tip to your soaked pussy. "you ready?"

"y-yeah," you breathe, distantly noticing the way your hands start to tremble. satoru exhales softly and shakes his hair out of his eyes before gently pushing himself inside of you, and the first thought that enters your head is that he's ridiculously big—it feels like you're getting torn apart every second he goes in farther.

"satoruuu," you whine, starting to paw at his chest when he goes in farther, and it's too much, too fast, but he only grins down at you in response. "it hurts, ow... y're too—"

"uh uh, just shut your pretty mouth n' take it," satoru groans, shifting the angle of his hips and going in a little deeper. you cry out in pain, face scrunching up in an effort to numb the stinging sensation around your waist. satoru dips his head and kisses your forehead, murmuring praises on how well you're doing.

"it'll feel so good soon, i promise, baby," he insists, pressing his lips to the spot in between your eyes. "you're takin' me so good, fuck— agh, you're so damn tight, this one's gonna hurt like hell, but you can take it, yeah? my pretty princess, you'll do anythin' i say, won't ya..."

satoru doesn't give you a chance to respond before he says something about this being the last stretch, but his words don't really sink in until he's two more inches deep into you. his last thrust is so sudden and jarring that it makes you cry out his name, over and over and over until the pain evident on your face starts to turn into something that looks a lot like... pleasure?

a self-assured smile grows on satoru's flushed face when he sees the chance, and a thousand more words of praise fall from his lips. your vision's a little fuzzy in the corners, and your mind is all but gone—it's hard to focus on anything but the slowly fading pain.

satoru starts to move his hips back and forth, easing your loosening cunt into him and nodding at the way you slowly start to show signs of wanting more. your eyes brighten up a little and you seem more alert the longer satoru opens you up.

"startin' to feel good now?" he asks, smiling smugly when you nod your head. "yeah, told you so." the prominent blush on his face starts to creep down his neck, and when you reach up and tentatively touch his cheek, that's when he loses it.

it takes every drop of self-restraint in his body to not flip you over, face-down and ass-up and fuck your tight cunt the way he's dreamed about for months. satoru's imagined it for so long that it's practically a reality for him—the way you would whimper his name and claw at the sheets, the way you would cum all over him too many times to count, all of it. he's seen it a thousand times in his head, but having his fantasy so close and yet so far drives him insane.

but as you smile up at him, the almost unnoticeable tremble in your bottom lip assures him that this probably isn't the time. after all, you're not leaving him anytime soon, so he might as well train you first before even attempting any of that on your perfect, untouched body.

"what do i do now?" you ask, and the simplicity of the question is almost childish. especially when satoru almost laughs in response, soft blue eyes glinting with amusement.

"jus' lie there and stay pretty f'me. and keep your legs spread wiiide open," satoru cooes, shaking his hair out of his eyes only for it to fall right back in.

"yeah, you're doin' so good that i don't even buy that you were a virgin—or are you just naturally made for me, huh? maybe that's it, 'cause i swear on my life that i've never fucked a cunt this fuckin' pretty, heh."

[msgexymunson]

The Ink Shop

Description: Desperate for a job, you answer an advertisement not knowing it's a tattoo shop. It's not particularly difficult work, except for one thing: having to deal with Eddie Munson. 

Warnings: NSFW, minors DNI or I'll tell your parents, fem reader, thick sexual tension, angst and smut. Fingering. 

A/N: I finally wrote it! The teach me fic I've been day dreaming about forever. This will be part one of three, and honestly this is one of the hottest things I've written. If you enjoy it, please comment and reblog, it means the world to me. 

8k words

Masterlist Part 2

Screwing your nose up in confusion, you look at the meticulously cut snippet of newspaper neatly attached to your resume with a paperclip. Sure enough, receptionist and administrator wanted for a place called ‘The Ink Shop’. 

The outside of the building looks a little bleak, all decked out in black with frosted windows, but the fading lettering above does indeed spell out ‘The Ink Shop’. 

Weird. This does not look like a printers. 

You smooth down a minor wrinkle in your white shirt and open the door with unsure hands, the bell above ringing out loudly. 

Oh. 

This is not a printers. This is a tattoo shop. 

The thought hadn't even crossed your mind. The noise is a cacophony of buzzing, rock music and loud conversation. Art hangs on every available wall, the wallpaper underneath a royal purple, faded over time. There's frames upon frames of predesigned pieces for people to choose from, and an enormous wooden counter, black and gouged with use, directly in front of the doors. 

Taking a confidence boosting breath you march forward, pencil skirt stretching and heels clicking on the black and white linoleum, and stand by the counter. No one seems to have noticed your arrival, and a polite cough is not going to cut it. 

“Hello?” Calling out to the shop, a devilishly handsome tattooed man in a ripped band shirt, black jeans and scuffed army boots turns his head. Loose dark curls escape a low bun and swivel with him, framing his animated face. He saunters over to the counter and towers over you, giving you an appraising look. 

“You old enough to be in here sweetheart?” He asks, amused, as he points to the sign on the wall that states ‘Strictly Over 21s, no exceptions’. 

“Yes?” You're trying to be confident but it comes out as a question, entirely taken aback by the strength of his stare. 

“Oh, well then I'm Eddie,” he holds out a hand and you're forced to reach up to shake it, but to your surprise he doesn't let go. The skin is rougher than you thought it would be, and absolutely covered in small tattoos. “What is it today? Let me guess, cover up an ex boyfriend's name? I can help you forget all about him.” 

The grin he shoots back is nothing short of predatory. All you can think of is that old childhood song, never smile at a crocodile…

“No, no, I'm here about the job?” 

He looks genuinely surprised, taking in your outfit in another flagrant stare. 

“Really? You?” 

“Yes, me.” You respond, cheeks flushing in annoyance. 

“Hey, Mac!” He calls over his shoulder and a big guy with a shaved head lowers his tattoo gun, glancing over at you both. “This girl's after a job?” 

Mac stands up slowly and begins to walk over. 

“You can let go now princess.” 

Staring at Eddie dumbfoundedly, you realise his grip on your hand has softened completely. Whipping your hand away, you flash him a defiant eye. It's ineffective; he merely grins wider and winks at you, poking his tongue out playfully. You see a hint of silver, a tongue piercing. 

“Hey there, I'm Mac, the owner.” another handshake, but gentler and brief. You introduce yourself and go to hand him your resume. 

A phone rings on the counter and Mac shouts “no!” just as Eddie picks it up. 

“Mac’s Roadkill Café, from your grill to ours.” Eddie delivers the line as smooth as silk, never taking his eyes off you. “Yeah, it's Eddie, of course. Oh, I'll tell him. Thanks.” 

As Eddie turns to Mac he's given a small but effective slap to the back of the head by Mac. 

“What did I tell you, stop answering like that!” 

Eddie just grins wider and looks at you again, a fake pout on his full lips. 

“You see that? Harassment in the workplace. Wanna kiss it better?” 

Mac shuts his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, then turns to face you again. 

“Are you immediate start?” 

“Er, yeah. I've got my resume, and references here-” 

“Listen Miss, if you can read and write, answer a phone, and put up with that-” he says, gesturing a thumb at Eddie, “then you've got the job.” 

Thank God, two of those references were your best friend with different names. Stunned, you just nod fast.

“Great. Tomorrow morning. We open at 10am.” 

Saying goodbye, you turn to exit, and risk one final glance over your shoulder. Eddie's still at the counter. A disarming wink, and then the door shuts behind you. 

********************

So, not exactly what you expected, but a job's a job. After getting a degree, you'd assumed doors would open, but a string of coffee houses later and here you are. You'll take it. 

It's 9:30 am, and you stand outside, wondering whether or not to try the door. Keen, but not too keen. It's a line you're trying to toe without much experience, especially with an establishment like this. 

A pretty woman with an undercut and a butterfly neck tattoo stirs you out of your calculations. 

“Hey, I'm Chloe. You're the new girl, right? Eddie bet you'd be early.” 

Blushing at the entirely accurate first impression, you try to stop your nose scrunching in distaste. As if reading your mind, Chloe chuckles.

“Ah, don't worry about him, he's an idiot. Come on, I'll show you the ropes.” 

Chloe is the piercer that basically rents a place in the shop, where she's been for around three years, she explains. There's also Julio, who does more realistic tattoo work, and Miranda who works part time. 

Chloe turns out to be warm and welcoming, showing you how they book clients in, how to take payments, and the phone note system. It's straightforward work, stuff you'll master in no time. In fact, you feel comfortable enough by 10 am to sit at the counter on your own.

Mac arrives on time, giving you a quick check in and taking down all your information on a yellow legal pad. 

“Do you not have a computer in here?” you ask, genuinely puzzled. 

“Oh no, not yet. I don't know how to work those things, Miss.” Mac chuckles, and gets to his station to prepare for his first client.

At 10:45 am Eddie walks through the door as if he owns the place. 

Your eyes widen at his brazen lateness, but no one seems to bat an eyelid. It boils your blood; to be that disrespectful and clearly not care. How could someone act like that? 

“Hey princess, didn't think you'd come back,” he smiles, reaching for your hand. 

Oh I'm not falling for that again. 

You pull your hand into your lap, expecting trickery from him. A smug grin smears across his face at the gesture, as if he knew you'd do that. It makes you even more annoyed. 

“Eddie, the book says you start,” you say, flicking through the tome in front of you, “ah, at 10 am today.” 

“It's walk-in Wednesday sweetheart. There's no one here.” 

He's got a point. Chloe had explained the tattoo artists work a shift of Wednesdays, someone is always available for walk-ins for small and pre designed pieces. Today is Eddie's turn, and he's right, no one is here. 

“Well, there could have been,” you snark back, folding your arms. 

He crosses into the shop, pushing the little gate open and stands next to you, arms crossed. The height you had is now lost, forcing you to look up at him. 

“As far as I know, you ain't the boss of me. I suggest taking the stick out of your ass before you come here.” 

Mouth falling open in outrage, you move to reply but he's already turned away. 

“Oh, and princess, there ain't a dress code.” 

He's gone, disappearing upstairs. Blushing crimson, you cross your arms as if you can hide the conservative outfit you're wearing. 

You're beginning to see why Mac asked if you could put up with Eddie. 

********************

Halfway through the day, you realise just why Mac puts up with Eddie. 

“Hey! Seeing if I can book with Eddie?” 

“Any appointments with Eddie?” 

“Just checking to see if Eddie had any cancellations?” 

It seems most calls are about him. As you check his schedule, it's not only fully booked for the next 6 months, they've even started a waiting list at the back. 

“Any walk-ins?”

The words next to your ear make you jump bodily, almost losing your place on your chair in alarm. 

“You scared me! No, I would have said,” turning to him, you're sucked into those deep brown eyes once again. “Why do you do walk-in Wednesdays if you're so… so popular?” 

Eddie flashes a smile at you, full of self importance. “I don't know sweetheart, Van Gogh wasn't made to doodle!” Shouting the last part at the back of Mac's head, he turns to you. “We just divided the shifts, so it was fair, that's all. Why, want a tattoo?” 

You roll your eyes. “No, I was just wondering.”

“Do you have any, princess?” 

“Not that it's any of your business, but no, I don't.” 

The laugh that rips from Eddie's chest is hearty and full of amusement. 

“You work in a tattoo shop and you don't have any? That's practically blasphemy!” 

The little bell above the door rings, and a nervous guy looks around before walking in. Before you see what he wants, you shout to Eddie's retreating back. 

“Van Gogh was only famous after he died, you know!” 

It's a little later on in the day; you've done a stock take, ordered more ink, and neatened up the consent sheets three times. The phone hasn't rung in a while, and you're bored out of your mind. 

Chloe walks over, coat in her hand. 

“Hey, how you getting on?” 

“I'm good, just bored.” 

She laughs, “it's not always this quiet, mid week and all. Mac's done for the day, and I'm heading off. You gonna be OK?” 

You glance over to Eddie, who to your surprise is tattooing his own fingers. 

“What, with the untrained monkey? I'll live.” 

She laughs harder at that, “he's not so bad, once you get to know him.” Lowering her voice, she whispers, “he's good at some things, you know.” The conspiratorial wink fills in what she isn't saying. Cheeks flushed, you gawp at Eddie and back at Chloe. 

“Huh? W-what, are you like, an item?” You ask, entirely thrown. 

“Oh no, he's not exactly boyfriend material. It was just one night, but bloody hell. Anyway, it's not like that anymore, we're just friends now. Maybe you two should just, you know.” 

A blush floods your face, almost reaching the roots of your hair. “I don't- I don't, do that.” 

“I'm just saying, it's an option. It'd stop the bickering at least. I can sense the tension from all the way over there.” 

Without a further word, she leaves you sitting on your stool, trying to remember how to breathe. 

Right, let's just play nice. 

Walking over to his station, you try to glimpse what he's tattooing. 

“I thought Van Gogh wasn't made to doodle” you quip, trying to keep it light. 

“This is different” he responds, not looking up at you.

“You know, that's a waste of a needle.” 

Eddie turns the machine off and rolls his eyes at you. 

“Who made you Princess of the Needles, hmmm?” 

“Mac did actually, when he asked me to check the stock,” you reply hotly, folding your arms. Stopping for a second, you take a breath. Play nice, you're supposed to be playing nice. 

“Sorry, I didn't mean to-” 

Eddie turns the machine back on and continues with his impromptu tattoo. 

“Can't you just be… professional?” You ask over the buzzing. 

“Can't you just relax for a second? No ones here. Fuck, you need to get laid.” 

Mouth dropping open in shock, you grab your bag and stomp out of the store, anger fuelling every step. 

********************

Right, be calm, put together. You've dealt with worse people. 

It's true. At the coffee shop you had on edge caffeine addicts shout in your face almost on a daily basis, but none of them got under your skin like Eddie did. Then again, none of them had spat truths like venom in your face.

Breathe. Just breathe. 

Taking the leap, you walk into the shop, coffees and a tray of donuts in hand; a small peace offering. To your surprise, he is already at his station, sorting through ink pots. 

You make quick work of handing out coffee and donuts to everyone, until you reach his side. There's plastic wrap around one of his fingers, you assume from his little tattoo session yesterday. It only serves to remind you of how tetchy you were. 

“Morning Eddie.” 

“So you came back. Tough little princess ain't ya? Remove the stick from your ass yet?” The grin he flashes you is wide but there's a bite to his words. 

He's trying to rile you up, but you ignore it, thrusting a coffee at him. 

“I'll be nice if you will.” 

Tension laces the air as he stares at your outstretched hand, but he takes the coffee. 

“I'm sorry Eddie.” 

Opening the box of donuts, you gesture for him to take one. He does, stuffing half of it into his mouth. 

“What about you?” you ask.

“Huh?” He mumbles through a mouthful of crumbs. 

“Are you sorry…?” 

“What for?” 

Setting your jaw, your hand is about two seconds from slapping the shit out of him, but you need the money. So, you huff and walk away. 

“What did I do?” He huffs, shouting it to the shop. 

“You should just say sorry, you've clearly upset her.” Chloe calls over to him, a slight smile on her face. 

“Yeah, how do you know?” 

“You upset everyone Eddie.” She laughs, and stands to greet her first client. 

It's a tense kind of day, with neither you nor Eddie backing down, only speaking to each other if absolutely necessary. By the time everyone's left it's just you and him again. 

He's finishing up with a client, telling them about aftercare as they gush about their new ink. It's difficult to deny, the guy is talented. This phoenix tattoo looks like it's popping right off of the skin, the flames so bright and detailed you could swear you saw them move. 

Once they've left, there's an awkward pause. Eddie breaks the silence first. 

“Listen, I'm sorry sweetheart. I shouldn't have been rude to you. So I'll make you a deal. I'll give you a tattoo, for free, and we ask each other questions, get to know each other. What do you say?” 

Smiling in spite of yourself, you turn to face him. “And why would I want a tattoo?” 

He visibly relaxes at your grin, and flashes one of his own. “Come on, I'm the best. I promise I'll be gentle.” 

“We close at six, so it'll have to wait.” 

Eddie looks at the clock, and bobs his head with each tick. Twenty seconds later he turns to you, eyebrows raised.

“Fine, I suppose it is a bit silly to work in a tattoo shop with no ink.” 

He punches the air with glee, forcing you to smile despite your better judgement. 

“Well then, what are you thinking, got any ideas in mind?” 

“I want a heart on my hip” he groans, putting his face in his hands, “hang on, before you judge, I want one like this.” 

Pulling a book from your bag, you turn to the page neatly bookmarked. It's an anatomical heart from a textbook you own, a line and dot drawing.

“Oh.” Eddie's eyes light up, “that's pretty metal, actually. So, you just happen to have this on you?” 

“No, I've been thinking about it for a while. It's… not what people would expect. And when I got the job here, I was working up the courage to get it. Carrying around the book was a promise to myself, I think.” 

He busies himself with getting a stencil ready, the drawing supplied speeding up the process. 

“Right, climb on up princess, show me where you want it.”

Blushing, you unzip your skirt at the back and roll it down slightly, shifting your blouse up high. The smile Eddie gives you is salacious, but he doesn't say a word. 

“Right here?” Softly his fingertips graze you, making you jump. That simple act crackles over your skin in an electricity unknown to you. 

“Y-yes,” you practically whisper it, face crimson. 

“So, questions. Can I go first?” 

“Sure” you nod, feeling vulnerable flashing this much skin. 

“OK,” he starts, pressing the stencil down, “I'll start with an easy one. How old are you?” 

“23.” 

He nods, prepping the needle, “your turn princess.” 

“How old are you?” 

“Ah, copycat,” he grins, testing the gun, the sudden noise making you jump, “I'm 30 sweetheart. I know, I look younger.” 

Act younger is more like it. 

“I'm gonna start, you still alright?” 

“Uh huh.” 

“Atta girl. It'll feel like a scratch.” 

He leans forward as his words burn your insides. Atta girl? Part of you wanted to tell him you're not a fucking horse, but another, deeper, part keens at the praise, kicking it's feet and twirling its hair like some dizzy schoolgirl.

The needle touches and you jump, but it's fine. It's easy. If anything, it's rather nice? You gasp at the feeling, your feet wiggling. 

“Right, next question. Why here, why this job?” 

The gun is moving across your skin, consuming all rational thought. You could lie, but a part of you feels like he'd know somehow. 

“I thought it was a printers shop, or a copy place.” 

He laughs briefly, but continues to focus on your new ink. 

“I knew it. Pretty, innocent thing like you, wandering into this den of depravity? Too good to be true.” 

Glazing over his comment, you think of a question to ask. 

“How did you start working here?” 

Eddie scoffs and turns off his machine for a moment, “you need to get creative, stop using my questions.” 

“I really want to know!” You say, meeting his derisory look. 

“Fine, quid pro quo and all that shit. Been here seven years. I begged. I begged Mac for an apprenticeship everyday for a week. He gave in, and here I am. Ask something else, that was boring.” 

You wrack your brains, trying to think of something original, far too aware of the steadying hand that he's pushing onto your abdomen. 

“What band is that?” 

It's the only thing that pops into your mind. He follows your eye line to his t-shirt. 

“Oh this? This is my band, Corroded Coffin. You should come see us sometime.” 

“Oh, what do you play?” 

His face lights up, “I sing, and play guitar. That's why my fingers are so rough-” he holds one up, covered in black latex, “-oh yeah, gloves.” 

After you both share a chuckle, there's a breath of quiet between you, except for the sound of the tattoo gun.

“My turn,” he says, smiling at your hip, “I gotta know, are you a virgin?” 

It's a miracle that he's as responsive as he is, since the question knocks you sideways. You sit up in shock, but he's already moved the needle off and away. 

“You can't just ask that, it's… it's rude!” you splutter, face glowing red. 

There's no trace of apology on his face. In fact, his grin only widens with your reply. 

“I thought so. Don't worry, I'm not gonna tease you about it.” 

Laying back down, you try to think of something to say, but it just doesn't arrive. He can read you like an open book and it's deeply unsettling, not to mention embarrassing. 

“Your turn princess.” 

“I don't want to play anymore.” 

“Oh come on, I'm being nice! Ask me something.” 

“Fine. What was your last wet dream about?” 

To your dismay, he smiles yet again.

“You, sweetheart.” 

Huffing, you cross your arms in annoyance. “Fine, don't answer.” 

He's focusing on your tattoo, tongue poking out in concentration, “I'm nearly done, then you can go back to hating me.” 

“I don't hate you. I've never hated anyone,” you respond in truth. Eddie's eyebrows raise, but he remains focused. 

“Really? You must have had a much better childhood than mine.”

It's quiet for a bit. You're not sure how to respond to that, feeling the cloud of his memory hanging thickly in the air between you. 

“All done.” 

“Huh?” 

He chuckles and points at your new ink, “take a look.” 

It's beautiful. All line and dot work, like it was pulled from the book itself and glued to your hip. 

“It's amazing Eddie. Thank you.” 

The grin he shoots you is warm as he wraps your new ink and then removes his gloves. “No problem. I'll lock up, the sheets on aftercare are right there. But you knew that.” 

Smiling affectionately, you take one and stand up, hovering for a second. 

“Eddie what do I owe-” 

“-not a damn thing. See you in the morning, princess.”

********************

The next few days were much more pleasant. Eddie was flirty, yes, but he seemed to understand when to stop. You had been nicer to him, biting back on the comments when you could. There was a rhythm to it, a constant dance of him flustering you and you annoying him. 

Things really felt like they were falling into place. Until Eddie decided to cross the line. 

Walk in Wednesday again, and the shop was dead. Julio was on shift, sitting in the back having a nap. 

“Hey Mac, can I ask you something?” 

“Sure, what is it Miss?” 

“Well, how do people know about our Wednesdays?” 

“Mostly word of mouth. We handed out flyers before, but it didn't really pick up. Honestly, I'm thinking of scrapping it.” He shrugs, taking a sip of coffee. 

“Before you do, I have an idea. I can design some flyers, get them out to the coffee shop I used to work at. It's by campus, I'm sure a few students would jump at the chance. You could offer a student discount, get them in the door?” You stare at him wide eyed, hoping he likes the idea. The little speech was one you'd practised about fourteen times before actually saying it to him. 

He stares at you for a moment, then smiles. “You know, that's a good idea. I like it. Tell you what, you make it a success and I'll give you a raise.” 

“Oh, thank you! I'll get on it.” You beam, and start planning the flyer. 

Ten minutes later you have your head down, your attention entirely on the paper in front of you. The noisy shop was purely a background soundtrack, including the approaching footsteps. Then, there's a whisper, directly in your ear. 

“What you up to, princess?” 

“Fuck!” 

You scream it out and jump so high you fall off your stool. Eddie's in bits, laughing so hard he's clutching his stomach. 

“I'm sorry I didn't mean to,” he says, looking the least sorry you've ever seen a person look. 

Clambering off the floor to berate him, your mouth flops open when you hear a rip. As you desperately turn your head to look down, you see where your pencil skirt has torn right next to the seam nearly up to your ass. 

“Fuck's sake Eddie! What the hell am I gonna do!” 

Hands shaking, you clench your jaw in panic, trying to frantically come up with a way to rectify it. Eddie holds his hands up to you as if he were approaching a wild animal. 

“Just calm down princess, it's only a skirt.” 

Pouting, you hit him on the arm. 

“It's not just a skirt! I can't work like this, how can I go home and change, I won't be able to fix it and-” 

Eddie smiles and holds one of your hands. 

“It's gonna be OK, we can sort something out. You seriously need to chill, have a big O or something.” He chuckles, clearly meaning for it to be a joke, but it's hitting too close to home. 

It's never happened for you. You've kissed guys, sure, but whenever they reach into your pants, it's either uncomfortable or downright painful. Even your own desperate fumblings haven't got you there. Most of the time you just feel stupid and awkward trying to touch yourself. So, you'd given up, thinking you're broken. That it'll never happen for you. 

Tears well immediately in your eyes. He knows he fucked up, it's written all over his face. As he opens his mouth to speak you rip your hand from his grasp and run to the restroom sobbing. 

It's stupid, it's so stupid. You know that, but the tears won't stop falling, face hot and scrunched as you sit on the closed toilet seat with your head in your hands. Your breath is heavy, gulping and wet; you dimly wonder if you can just stay here until the shop closes.

There's a gentle knock on the door. 

“Sweetheart, can I come in?” It's Eddie, voice softer than you've ever heard it. 

“Go away” you manage. It's shaky and pathetic sounding, but it's out there. 

“I'm not going anywhere. Talk to me, you'll feel better, I promise.” 

He tries the door, turning the handle before you get a chance to lock it. Jumping upright, you go to push him away but he grabs your wrist and pulls you into him. His embrace takes away that edge and pretty soon you're just sobbing into his chest. 

As he strokes the back of your head, he makes shushing noises, his other arm wrapped tight around your shoulders. You're not sure how long you stay like that, in the warmth of his hold, his body pressed against yours. The tenderness calms you down until your tears stop, but he doesn't pull away. 

After a while, he whispers, “feel a little better?” 

“Y-yeah,” you say, voice returning to itself. 

Only then does he release you, rubbing a thumb under your eye to wipe moisture away. 

“I didn't mean to hurt you. You wanna go somewhere and talk about it?” 

“I- I've never- I don't talk about- I-” you shake your head as if to clear it. A part of you wants to hit him, to shout at him, but his gaze is so concerned that you agree. Your shoulders slump, losing a bit of tension. “OK.” 

Smiling at you, he whips his flannel shirt off, leaving him in a white vest, and ties it around your waist. 

“For your modesty. Come with me.” 

Puzzled, you follow him out of the bathroom and back into the shop where Mac is sitting looking worried. 

“What's going-” 

Eddie interrupts, “emergency late lunch needed, alright? Can you cancel my 3 o clock?” 

Mac seems confused, but looks at Eddie's earnest face, and your emotional one, and nods. 

“Not a problem.” 

“Thanks, man.” 

Before you can ask where you're going, he pulls you from the shop by the arm and across the street into a dimly lit bar, depositing you in the nearest booth. 

“I'll be right back.” 

If he's uncomfortable by his appearance, he doesn't show it. The way he strides up to the bar, it's as if he owns the place. It's remarkable, the sheer confidence he embodies like a second skin. 

“Hey, John!” He hollers, knuckles knocking on the wood of the bar. 

John appears, a gruff, stocky guy with a buzz cut and a sour face. 

“What the fuck are you doing here.” 

“Oh come on, you know you missed me.” 

John's face screws into something akin to a smile. “What do you want, you little shit.” 

“I love it when you talk dirty,” Eddie grins and winks, “two beers please.” 

A grunt and a nod, and John puts the beers down on the bar. As Eddie reaches for his wallet John waves a hand in dismissal. 

“Put that away boy, your money ain't good here. Besides, your lady friend looks like she needs it.” 

You flush and tear your eyes away, embarrassed. Eddie walks back over and puts a beer in front of you. 

“Eddie, we're still working I-” 

“It's one beer. It's alright.” 

You shrug and take a sip, nodding at the bartender, “he knows I'm upset, do I look a mess?” 

Shaking his head so hard it releases some of his wayward waves from their confines, he tips his beer at you, before he takes a long chug. 

“No,” he says enthusiastically, “you look just as pretty as you always do.” 

Scoffing, you turn your eyes downward. Eddie ignores your response, instead pressing on what happened earlier. 

“Sorry again,” he says, sounding genuinely distressed, "I don't want to see anyone hurt from something I said, least of all you.” 

Meeting his gaze, you smile incredulously. “Oh? And why me?” 

“Come on, don't make me say it.” 

Staring at him, you fold your arms in an act of defiance. He rolls his eyes and looks at you. 

“I like you. You're uptight, and mean to me, and a little conceited, but I like you. I don't want you to hurt. Can we just be friends? I'm a pretty good listener, you know? I can help.” 

Heat floods your insides. Eyes scanning him for any sign of a joke, you come up empty. 

‘I'm not conceited,” you counter weakly, clinging on to the familiar push and pull. 

“And I'm the Easter bunny.” 

Giggling, you take another sip of beer. 

“Come on, friends? Talk to me.” 

Sighing deeply, you fix your gaze at the table, forefinger tracing patterns in the condensation from your drink. “Promise not to laugh?” 

“I promise.” 

You can't tell how genuine he's being, as you don't dare look at his face, nerves controlling your every limb. His voice seems honest enough. 

“I- I have a problem, something I can't physically do. You reminded me of it. It's not your fault.” Shrugging in an attempt to make this look less serious than it is for you, you take a pull out of your beer bottle once more.

“Wait, are you saying…” he chuckles a little in disbelief, “have you never… had an orgasm before?” 

“Eddie, be quiet!” You urgently whisper, looking around the bar. 

“No one's listening sweetheart, no spies in here,” he says in a low tone, hand reaching out to grasp yours. Your first instinct is to shake his hand away but he holds firm, rough fingertips rubbing against your knuckles. 

“Eddie, I'm broken,” you whimper, voice breaking, “I can't do it.” 

“Oh sweetheart,” he responds, chock full of emotion, “you're not broken. You are perfect.” 

Pulling your hand away, you keep your eyes away from his, unwilling to meet that burning gaze of his. Unwilling to lose yourself in those sultry dark eyes. 

“I can't do it. Anytime some guy tries, it hurts. I've given up to be honest. I just wasn't made for it.” 

He laughs again, dragging his hand over his face. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, the problem ain't you. Have you- have you tried, fixing it, on your own?” The last part is a whisper, you assume to protect your feelings. 

“Yeah, but I just feel stupid and awkward. I don't know.” 

There's a little silence between you as you both dwell in the suffocating fog of your confession, neither of you willing to clear it. 

“Listen, this may be way out of your comfort zone, but I'm saying it anyway. If you don't like it, we'll forget it, and I won't mention it again.” 

Finally looking at him, at the vulnerability on his face, you nod, not trusting your voice. 

“I can… maybe I can help you. Show you you're not broken? As a favour between friends.” 

You laugh mirthlessly and finish your beer. “That's a little more than a favour, Eddie.” 

“We can keep it professional.” 

You stare at him wide eyed. His messy hair and dark glittering eyes. At the way he slumps in his seat like a king or a delinquent, you can't decide which. At his taunt frame, the tattoos spackling every available inch of his skin. Your eyebrows raise of their own accord. 

“Professional? You?” 

“Yeah, me! I can do it, you know. I could make you come.” 

A shiver forces its merry way down your spine at his words. 

“You're really confident.” 

“You haven't seen what I can do.” 

Blushing hard, you attempt to control yourself. “Look, if we're going to do this, I need you to promise some things.” 

“Ah, of course, you would have rules,” he grins, as he leans back and spreads in his seat, “continue.” 

Searching your mind for a moment, you try to glean what you need. 

“First of all, we need to be discreet, and professional at all times, clear?” 

“As crystal,” he grins wolfishly, “anything else?” 

“Yeah- I think,” you wrack your brains, trying to come up with something that would make this less intimate. Anything. But the roguish nature of his presence makes it hard to even think of a thing. Finally, your eyes widen at the idea that suddenly crosses your mind. 

“Final rule. No kissing.” 

He pouts, looking at your chest and back up, “no kissing anywhere?” 

“N-no, no kissing on the mouth.” 

Grin returning, he winks at you, a gesture that flips your stomach inside out. 

“Kinky. Alright, deal,” he leans forward to give his hand to yours. A hand covered in ink and calluses. Roughness and tenderness. 

You shake it.

********************

For the next couple of days, your little arrangement isn't brought up. A wild thought hammers itself into your mind; either he wasn't serious, or you imagined it. 

Those theories are put to bed on day three. 

After you let Mac know about the flyers and the bonus poster you designed, you sit back and enjoy the praise given to you. It's funny, the feeling of being told a job has been well done makes you happier than you care to admit.

Eddie turns up at the counter, whistling through his teeth. “Sweet looking flyers, how'd you swing those?” 

“I designed them. I've got a degree in design and marketing, if you didn't know,” you sniff, rearranging the stationary on the counter to avoid his eyes. 

“Maybe you could help me design some for my band. These look pretty metal.” He says, picking one up and looking at it closely. 

“Maybe.” 

Eddie leans in close, so close you feel the warmth of his breath on your cheek. 

“If you're still up for our arrangement, I'm free tonight.” 

Heat immediately flushes your face. Ignoring him entirely, you write your address and a time on a notepad, and thrust the paper into his hands. 

“Covert, I like it. See you then princess.” 

By the time 9pm rolls around you're a jittery mass of nerves, having changed clothes no less than four times, tidied your apartment, changed the bedsheets and paced so much you're surprised there's not a groove in the floorboards. 

In the end you'd decided on a baggy band t-shirt and your sleep shorts. It was a rational calculation to make Eddie think you're just wearing what you usually would at home and therefore show you're not nervous. I mean, you are wearing what you'd usually wear at home. He didn't need to know about how long it took you to reach that decision. 

The sound of the intercom buzzing sends your pulse into overdrive. Pressing the button, you let out a strangled “Hello?” 

“Hey princess.” 

“Come on up.” 

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck…

A soft knock at the door and you count to five, trying to remember how to breathe. When you open the door, you're stunned. He's leaning on the doorframe in a fucking button up shirt. It's black, and clings to him deliciously. His hair looks a little damp, loose around his shoulders, and his aftershave is making you feel dizzy. 

“Oh, you didn't need- I mean-” you point at his shirt, and he looks down and chuckles. 

“Just came from band practice. Took a shower, and this was clean,” he shrugs and shoulders into your apartment. “Nice place. Where's all your stuff?” 

You look around at your sparse apartment. Everything in order, down to the fresh flowers on your tiny dining table. 

“This is all my stuff,” you say, confused, “I don't like clutter.” 

He chuckles, walking over to you. “No wonder I annoy you. I am clutter.” 

He's close now, close enough so that you have to look up to see his face. His rough fingers ghost your arm, sending a wave of goosebumps over your skin. 

“Nice seeing you in something casual. L7, right?” He asks, pointing at the t-shirt. 

“Yeah, you know who they are?” 

“I'm surprised you do. Thought you'd be a Mariah Carey kinda girl.” 

You scrunch your face in distaste. “No, not at all. You don't know everything about me.” 

He leans in, warm breath a whisper in your ear. “I know some things about you.” 

Squirming hotly, you lead him to your room before you lose your nerve. 

“So, the princess's bedchamber. It's nice,” he remarks, flopping down on the bed as if it were his own. 

“Take your boots off,” you snip, folding your arms. 

“Ah, there she is.” He smiles, but does as instructed. Once more he's laying back into your scattered pillows looking perfectly at ease. You, on the other hand, stand there, spine a vertical rod as you stare back at him. 

 “Come on then, sit down.” 

Nervously you sit at the foot of the bed with your legs crossed. 

“Now princess, what do you do when you touch yourself?” 

Blushing furiously, you stammer out, “what, do you expect me to like, show you?” 

He chuckles, diffusing some of the tension. “As much as I'd like that, I don't think you're ready for that kinda shit. Just tell me, what's your thought process?” 

Staring at him for a little too long, you open your mouth and close it again. He rolls his eyes. 

“Look, if you want me to help I'll help, but you gotta give me something here.” He looks as if he's about to get up and leave; your arm shoots out on its own accord, grabbing his leg to stop him. 

“Sorry, sorry. I just, I've never spoken about this kinda stuff. I don't know about any process, I just… reach down and fiddle around?” You blush even more. 

“So you don't like, watch anything? Or read anything?” He looks a little amused.

“What on earth are you talking about?” 

“Porn, sweetheart.” 

It's so blunt that you jump a little. “Oh no, I've never, oh no no.” 

“Christ,” he whispers, “right, you can like, set the mood. Look at something to turn you on? It'd probably help you feel less awkward.” 

“Oh. Right.” 

“And do you ever just like, slouch? I feel like I'm back at school looking at ya.” 

“Huh?” 

“Just, come here.” He pats the little space between his spread legs and you hesitate for a second before you crawl over to him. 

“How do you want me to sit, like cross legged or-” 

He grabs your hips and spins you, forcing your back into his crotch.

“Stop trying to control every little thing,” he says in a hard tone, one you're too embarrassed to admit makes your insides tingle. Softer, he continues. “Look, if you're ever gonna get there you need to relax, stop trying to control it, and stop overthinking.” 

“Great, all of the things I'm shit at.” 

His laugh is loud, it vibrates into your spine. “I'll help you, OK? You trust me?” 

“In a very limited sense of the word, yeah.” 

“Lemme rephrase. You still OK to do this?” 

“Yeah.”

“Good. Just relax.” 

You're not sure what you are expecting, but it certainly isn't his hands winding into your hair, fingertips rubbing softly at your scalp. It shoots tingles down your spine, your entire head feeling fuzzy and warm. 

You stifle a whimper, biting your lip. His fingers stop. 

“If you want to make noises, you can. Tells me I'm doing a good job. That goes for everything else too, alright?” 

“Alright.” You whisper. 

“You comfortable?” 

“Yeah it's just- well-”

“Tell me.” 

“I think it's your shirt buttons, they're digging into my back a bit,” you admit, feeling the sharp points down your spine. 

“Easily fixed.” He taps your arm and you lean forward. Some rustling, and he throws his shirt to the foot of your bed. 

“Now just chill sweetheart.” 

His fingers begin rubbing at you again, thumbs sinking low to pop at the bubbles in your neck. 

“Fuck, that's really nice.” 

He hums appreciatively, working his hands lower and dropping them to your shoulders. The massaging continues, and you feel yourself melting, your body moulding into his. Your legs, once ramrod straight, have bent a little and parted of their own accord, the muscles loosening. Even your breathing has slowed. 

“That's better, atta girl,” he says and you whine at the words, a little pathetic mewling sound that tumbles past your lips.

“Oh, you like that, don't you?” The smile is evident in his voice, a smug tone smeared liberally across each word. 

“You, you're so-” you begin, but his hand drags across the front of your shirt, just over the tops of your breasts.

“I'm so what?” He whispers in your ear.

“So, so arrogant,” you huff. He laughs, a husky chuckle, and dances the tips of his fingers over your clothed nipple. Gasping, you grasp at his thighs either side of you.

“Yeah? What else am I?” He says, nibbling at your earlobe. 

“You- you're cocky, and- and self assured- Oh God!” 

Rudely interrupted by him tweaking your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, you swear, back arching off of him for a moment. 

“You know,” he says in a gravelly tone directly in your ear, “those are pretty much the same thing.” 

“You drive me crazy,” you huff, squirming a little against him as his hands explore your chest over your shirt.

“Good crazy or bad crazy?” He smiles, then bites softly at your neck. 

“I- I haven't decided yet.” 

“Good. I can say the same about you,” he admits, his hands trailing lower, pulling your shirt up so he can stroke at your bare sides. The touch of fingertips on your skin sends a river of sensations through you that run deep into your core. 

“Are you going to- what are you doing, exactly?” You breathe, starting to move against him. 

“I'm warming you up sweetheart. Why, don't you like it?” 

Genuinely curious, you try to ask what you want to know without using the words. 

 “N- no, I do. Do you have to, erm, get warmed up? When you, you know.” 

He lets out a little huff of a laugh. “Guys are a little less… complicated, than girls. For the most part.” 

“Oh. OK, so you can just. I mean, you just, get excited?” Your breathing becomes more ragged when the tip of his thumb grazes the underside of your breast. 

“Sweetheart, I got hard seeing you in these little shorts.” Running a finger down your stomach, he lightly pings the elastic of your sleep shorts as if to accentuate his point. 

“Really?” 

There's no denying it when he moves his hips up and you feel his solid bulge press into the small of your back. 

“Really. Can I take this off?” He asks, twisting the hem of your shirt in one hand. 

“Yeah.” It's a whisper. You're a little scared of being bare chested, but not having to see his face helps. Plus, he's wound you up so much you're on the verge of begging for his touches, pleading for more. 

He guides your top up, up, up, revealing you slowly. Coaxing it over your head, you move your arms up so he can remove it. It ends up in a heap on top of his shirt. One tattooed arm wraps around your waist, pulling you toward him more, his hardness pushing against your ass. 

His breathing is unsteady as he grinds his hips, pushing onto you further. Gasping, your fingers are vices, firmly attached to his thighs in a vain attempt to anchor you. 

Suddenly his hand is winding into your hair, tugging your head aside so he can run a fat tongue across your neck. You shudder at the sensation, feeling the hard ball of his tongue piercing against your throat When he takes his pillowy lips and sucks at the spot between your neck and shoulder a moan slips out. Grunting in approval, his hands are on your bare tits, fingers pinching at your hardened nipples. 

“Holy hell!” 

He laughs, running rough fingers down your body, circling your new ink, then dipping down past your waistband. Those tattooed fingers barely brush your pubic hair, teasing you, then glide back up to your stomach. 

“Eddie, please.” 

Your voice is small, not your own. Eddie groans low in your ear, rubbing his length into the fat of your ass.

“Fuck, princess, I like you saying my name like that. You want me to touch you right here?” he says, pressing down hard over your clothed clit. 

The sheer relief of having his touch where you need it gets you close to tears; a gulping shudder of a sob rips from deep in your chest. 

“See, you're not broken, sweetheart. Can I take these off?” 

Shaking, you hook your fingers into your sleep shorts and pull them down your legs, air hitting your most intimate area. Eddie huffs in your ear, his inked hands rubbing up the insides of your thighs. 

“You're so fuckin’ sexy.”

Before you can retort, his fingers dip down to your entrance, gathering your slick. You can hear how wet you are, but it's not in you to think about it. You can't think, only feel. 

When his fingers run up and start rubbing circles into your clit, your response is visceral. Bucking up, you chase the feeling, searching for even more. 

“I'm gonna slip a finger in, alright princess?” 

You nod, waiting for the pain, wincing before it even starts.

“It's OK, you're fine, you gotta relax baby.” He strokes your stomach with his free hand, pressing kisses to your temple. 

The tip of his finger breaches you, and the pain doesn't come. Your soaking wet cunt invites him in, warm and pulsing with arousal. He slips it into the hilt, his palm pressing into your clit, and your moan is long and loud. It's never felt like this. Never has it stoked a fire in your gut, bubbled your insides like pop rocks and Coke, turned you into a writhing mess. 

He fucks his finger into you, slipping a second in to join the first, and you move your hips, chasing the building tightness in your belly. Each thrust of his hand has you bucking, and in turn rubbing against his member trapped within its denim prison. 

“That's it, good fuckin’ girl.” His voice is strained, as if he's trying hard not to lose control. 

“Eddie, oh fuck, f-feels so- good, yes, please, please-” 

You're not sure what you're begging for, and Eddie doesn't seem to be in any state to ask, but it doesn't matter. His fingers fuck into you in earnest, stroking hard against some spot inside that has you babbling and quivering around him. 

“God, you're so tight, this little cunts gonna drive me crazy. So wet and perfect, Jesus Christ.”

The feeling seems too much and not enough, and it grows higher and higher, flooding your body with a pleasure so intense you're sure you black out. The only thing you're aware of is your voice screaming out his name as your body thrusts wildly into his grip. Finally, it dissipates, your body melting against his form, sweating and spent. 

You take a breath, and another, trying to gather your wits enough to speak. Eddie speaks first.

“So sweetheart, everything you dreamed it would be?” He asks as he strokes your hair. 

“Better. Fuck, Eddie. Thank you.” 

“Anytime. Seriously. Any. Time. Day, night, weekends, holidays-” 

You giggle, slapping his thigh, and sit up, grabbing your discarded shirt to cover up. 

“Sorry, that was probably a little er, frustrating for you.” You say as you glance at his bare torso, drinking in the sight with your eyes for the first time. He's lean, but ripped, a faint sheen of sweating making his tattoos glisten in the low light. 

“What do you mean sweetheart?” 

“Well, doing that, not getting anything in return...” 

He chuckles lightly, “Oh I wouldn't say that,” he glances down, gesturing to his jeans, “full disclosure, I came in my pants.” 

“Really?” your eyes widen, staring at him with disbelief. 

“I ain't lying. Wanna check?” He waggles his eyebrows at you, making you laugh again. 

“You seem better already. Right, I better go.” 

Shoulders deflating, you pout, “I suppose you better.” 

“Hey don't look at me like that. I hoped that helped. Sleep tight, drink some water. I'll see you tomorrow princess.” 

And just like that, he leaves. Of course he leaves, it was just a deal you struck, nothing more. A favour. you wipe stray tears from your eyes and try not to focus on the sound of the front door shutting. 

As you collapse on the bed, exhausted, you think about his hands, his words. There's something screaming inside, telling you you're playing with fire, but as you drift off you can't find it in you to mind.

Taglist

@liminalpebble @eddies-puppet @rip-quizilla @micheledawn1975 @vanilla-demon @millercontracting @roanniom @josephquinnsfreckles @leelei1980 @mrsjellymunson @usedtobecooler @eddiesprincess86 @ali-r3n @choke-me-eddie @littlebebebunny @big-ope-vibes

[littlelamy]

sleeping with rafe

Rafe couldn’t sleep without you. Whether it was his bed, your bed, or even the couch, he needed you beside him, wrapped up tight, grounding him in a way only you could. Tonight was no different. The moment you slipped under the covers, he pulled you into his arms, sighing deeply as he buried his face against your chest. After a long, exhausting day, all he wanted was to be tangled up with you.

Usually, he preferred to be the big spoon, wrapping you up in his embrace like a protective barrier against the world. But tonight, he craved your warmth more than ever. He nestled his way down, resting his head on your chest, sighing contentedly as he felt your soft skin under his cheek, the rhythm of your heartbeat lulling him. His hand drifted beneath your shirt, fingers gliding over your bare skin, sending tingles through you.

“Missed you,” he murmured, pressing soft kisses against the delicate skin just above your heart. His lips traveled slowly across your chest, savoring each inch, each gentle curve. When he finally reached your nipple, he paused, eyes fluttering shut as he closed his lips around it, sucking softly, his tongue flicking teasingly against the sensitive skin. (rafe having an oral fixation > )

A shiver ran through you, and your breath hitched as you tangled your fingers in his hair, feeling the heat pool low in your stomach. Rafe smiled against you, clearly enjoying your reactions as he took his time, lost in the warmth of you. Each slow pull of his mouth was both possessive and adoring, a perfect blend that made you feel cherished.

“God, you’re so soft… so perfect,” he whispered, pulling back for a moment to watch your face, relishing the flush on your cheeks. He pressed his cheek against your chest again, listening to your heartbeat, tracing gentle patterns across your waist with his fingers.

But as the moments stretched on, you felt that familiar pressure building in your bladder, and you knew you’d have to get up. You tried to shift out of his hold, but Rafe wasn’t having it. Even as you tried to ease your way out from beneath him, his grip tightened, instinctively, possessively and with a sleepy groan.

“Where are you going?” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep, his arms looping around you like a vice.

“I… I have to get up,” you whispered, trying not to disturb him too much. He just groaned, shaking his head as he snuggled even closer, tightening his hold like he thought you might just disappear if he let go.

“Just a few more minutes,” he murmured, pressing a sleepy kiss to your collarbone, his face still buried against your chest. “Stay.”

You chuckled softly, heart warming at how attached he was, even if it meant you were stuck for the time being. But eventually, nature’s call grew too insistent, and you had to put your foot down.

“Rafe, I really have to go,” you said, a bit more firmly this time. His eyes fluttered open, and he looked up at you, pouting slightly, as if to say how could you leave me like this?

With a defeated sigh, he finally relented, loosening his grip just enough to let you slip out of bed. But as you padded to the bathroom, you felt his presence right behind you, half-awake yet determined to stay close. You glanced over your shoulder to find him trailing you, eyes half-lidded and hair tousled, his expression one of pure sleep-addled stubbornness.

He leaned against the doorframe as you entered the bathroom, his gaze unwavering even as you went about your business. You shot him a look, but he only grinned, sliding down to sit by the door, resting his head against the wall with a lazy smile, as if this was perfectly normal behavior.

When you finally returned to bed, he wasted no time in gathering you back into his arms, settling back into his preferred spot on your chest, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin as he sighed in satisfaction.

“You’re not allowed to leave me again,” he muttered, voice muffled against you.

You chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Alright, alright. I’m not going anywhere.”

And with that promise, he relaxed completely, his breathing evening out as he drifted back to sleep, held securely in the warmth of your embrace.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafecameroninterlude @sstargirln

[bisexualiteaa]

actually dying for a cooper howard x vaultie!reader smut where they have some slow burn longing steaminess, but coop thinks she’s too good for him UNTIL she comes in contact with a sex pollen-esque chem and he finally gives in to save her 🥵 please work your magic and elaborate however you want

A Flame in Your Heart

Cooper Howard x Fem Reader (SMUT!!)

CW: NSFW like absolutely filthy y’all, you’ve been warned. 💀 unprotected sex, irradiated cream pie, p in v, p0rn w/ plot, slow burn, flirting, cursing, perverted thoughts, dub-con (because of chem usage though consent is asked and given!) rough sex, dirty talk, choking, praise kink, degradation, squirting, mention of fingering, FEELINGS!! Slight deviation from TV series, possible grammar/spelling mistakes, cooper starts off mean but slowly warms up to reader

AN: I absolutely LOVED this request! I was up all night writing down all my ideas and spent all this morning perfecting it, and this has to be my longest one yet! I thank you for your patience anon and my lovely readers as I finally post this! Hope you enjoy and that I have done your ask justice! ❤️

Life outside of the vault was difficult to say the least. You felt hunger and dehydration in ways you’d never experienced before, going out of your way to do desperate things you would normally never do in order to get said food and water. The heat was unbearable, every stretch of land you walked across had a danger lurking around every corner, and worst of all, you’d never felt so alone. You weren’t sure what it was about you, maybe it was because you were new to the surface, maybe it was your nearly perfect skin, but everyone seemed to stare or glare at you when you would walk through. It wasn’t until you’d passed through Filly, meeting Ma June that you realized people didn’t take kindly to people like you. “Vaulties” she called them, an audible disdain in her tone, making you look down to remember you were in your blue and gold Vault-Tec suit. “I’ll be going then, have a nice day!” You said skiddishly, offering her a kind smile before turning and exiting the shop. You just wanted to make friends, why was that so hard up here? So when your eyes set on a man clad in classic Wild West cowboy clothes, watching smoke settle after a stand off, you weren’t sure why but you knew that was who you needed on your side in this world. Before you knew it, your feet were already moving and mouth speaking to him, grabbing his attention.

“I ain’t no charity case sweetheart, I don’t take on strays” The ghoul spoke, his southern drawl making him even more memorable than the marred texture of his skin. You looked to the dog that trailed not far behind him as he walked, changing its pace to keep up with the man. “The dog there with you tells me otherwise” you quipped. “Ain’t my dog” he responded harshly as he continued walking. “I can make it worth your while!” You yelled, making him stop in his tracks for a moment, a scary sight at first before you worked up the nerve to come closer once he turned back to you. “And how you suppose you’d do that?” He asked, and at first you didn’t know what to say, the words leaving your mouth before you could really think of a good enough reason. Did nobody like company anymore these days? “Well…I can be your scavenger! Pretty good at collecting stuff” you offered, shaking your bag and making things rattle around inside to prove it, making him give a huff of a chuckle. “‘f I wanted a pack mule I’d‘ve found a brahman” he shot you down. “Okay, then I can be good company to talk to!” You offered. “They make radios for when I want to listen to someone yack” he shut down once again. “I’m a good cook! Even with shitty supplies, I can make a stew that’d put a smile even on the meanest son of a gun’s face” you said, hopeful that he’d at least take you for something, but you had a feeling he’d probably turn you down again. “Iguana on a stick’s just fine” he said, though he had to admit the stew sounded good. Reminded him of home before all this wasteland bullshit. “Oh, umm…” you said awkwardly, your tone growing quiet and my how it put a sad look in your eyes. The evil part of him liked it, seeing your sweet innocent face all downturned but the part that was still human deep down, the part that hardly ever saw the light of day anymore, had half a mind to let you.

“Got a lotta nerve walkin’ up t’ me, girly. If you somehow been lucky enough that you ain’t met dangerous yet, you’re lookin’ at someone who could put you down before you’d even mutter your last words” he threatened, motioning to the double barreled shotgun in his hands. “I know, I saw it first hand. You hold yourself well, I envy that. I’m new to all of this and just really want someone who can help me hold my own the same way” you explained. “Look, I know I don’t look like much but please just give me a chance” you begged, looking up at him with a fighting spirit in your eyes that he had to admit, he was pretty impressed in seeing in a vaultie. “You help me, I help you, however that ends up being” you offered, standing strong on this and damn if he didn’t see a little bit of himself in you at that. He gave a sigh, tilting his head down before shaking it, not believing himself for the words he was about to say. “Alright, but the minute you start draggin’ you’re out, got me?” He said, and he hated the way his cold heart seemed to pump a little faster upon seeing your eyes light up with joy and a smile stretch to your face. “Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!” You said, opening your arms up to hug him but being met with the barrel of his gun poking your stomach to keep space between you. “I don’t do hugs” he spoke gruffly, making you back up enough to where he’d drop the gun back to his side. “R-Right…sorry” you apologized, embarrassment washing over you but still glad to finally have someone in your company. “C’mon, I ain’t got all day now” he said, motioning you to start walking, so you joined him.

Your travels with him certainly weren’t at all what you were expecting them to be. From being used as bait, to being tied up with rope most of the time you’d traveled together, or being sent in as his scavenger, you weren’t prepared for a lot of the reality you faced with being up on the surface. Most nights made you question why you’d ever left the comfort of the vault, why you’d abandoned a trusty food supply, regulated temperatures, a safe place to sleep that wasn’t riddled with radroaches or had the likely hood of waking up to a raider with a knife at your throat for no reason. Then you would remember the experiment in your vault, why you left that awful place for arguably a worse reality on the surface but at least you had freedom. Out here you were free to say what you want, do what you want, consume what you want so long as you could defend yourself incase that supply wasn’t unclaimed. You’d gotten pretty handy with a gun in the most recent weeks. Cooper, you learned one night was his name, using empty glass bottles as targets to help teach you accuracy and how to hit things from a longer range. In exchange, you came a little more useful than he had first thought. You had some useful stuff on you for trade like chems, ammo and food, were a good extra bag to hold stuff in, and you were a better cook than you’d talked about. Sure you had a tendency to talk too much, and you weren’t great with a gun, but you were getting there.

“Might I suggest takin’ them clothes instead of wearin’ that suit?” He said, making you look at him weird for suggesting you strip a dead raider of their clothes. “Why would I do that…?” You asked, genuinely confused and not sure what he was implying either, he was a hard man to predict. “Because, people see that shit and get real mad. People up here don’t like vaulties or the ones that run ‘em” he said and it made sense, it helped you understand why you kept getting evil glares each time someone would look at you or talk to you. You figured he knew best, so you took the shirt and pants from one of the female raiders, tucking them into your bag to change into at a better time. He gave a chuckle watching you do so, apologizing to the dead body profusely as you took their clothes and whatever valuables they had on them for the betterment of your own survival. You were still so naive, part of him was hoping he could slowly start to break and corrupt your way of thinking, but that was a thought for another time.

Before you knew it, night finally began to fall. The sun setting across the horizon gave the air less of a hot, harsh bite as the temperature began to cool rapidly across the sands of the Mojave. All you managed to grab was a pair of beat up, old jeans and a tank top, so as soon as the sun set, the chill set in. As you both set up camp for the night just outside of an abandoned rest stop, you started a fire to cook some of that stew you talked about being good at. He had to admit, it was pretty damn good, likely the best thing he’s had since before the bombs went off. Though even the kindling fire couldn’t manage to chase the chill away, watching you run your hands up and down your arms to try and warm up some by it. He felt a slight pang in his heart, watching you shiver like that, how your eyes lit up by the blaze of the fire and your hair seemed to be tousled just right. You were pretty, too pretty to be trekking this wasteland, and certainly too pretty to be trekking it with him of all people as your company. Even he had a heart still, as cold as it was, so out of kindness he shrugged his duster from his shoulders, draping it around you. You looked at the fabric pooled around you, pulling it over you better before looking to him as he sat down across from you again. “Ain’t no use if the cold gets ya” he said, making you smile appreciatively at him as you realized what he did. “Thank you” you replied, a slight blush fanning to your cheeks as the chattering of your teeth finally died down and you grew warmer. It smelled like him, sure it had splatters of old dried blood and was rather worn, but it had that gunpowder and smoke smell to it that you associated with him. “Don’t say I never did nothin’ for ya” he replied, trying to sound cold but it didn’t come off that way, making you chuckle. “What do I owe you?” You asked, making him fall silent for a moment as he pondered the answer to your question. He looked you over for a second before tipping his hat down to cover his face a bit, the signal that he was about to try and get some sleep. “Just keep watch for a bit, I’ll be up in a few hours” he responded, and while it wasn’t what you were expecting, you’d take it.

He was startled awake a couple hours later when he heard a commotion, you yelling at someone telling them to back off that this place had been claimed. The raider you were up against didn’t seem to like that very much, claiming that wasn’t how it worked up here. The altercation took a turn for the worst when the man reached for his gun but you were quick to fire and kill him before he could let out a shot. A shaky feeling set in your hands and a horrified expression across your face at the realization that you just killed someone. Cooper, who was certainly wide awake now, was rather impressed by your quick timing and precision, coming up behind you to lay a gloved hand to your shoulder. “Well would ya look at that, looks like them lessons been payin’ off after all. How’s it feel?” He asked, looking down at you as you stared at the gun in your hands. “He was yelling at me but…he was aiming at you. I don’t really know what came over me, I didn’t like that he was going to shoot you so I just…I killed him” you said, recounting the encounter to him as if he hadn’t seen it himself. He didn’t really know what to think in that moment as you explained how your mind worked, he was proud for sure at your show of improvement with a gun, yet also touched at the same time. No one ever really looked out for him since he started his bounty hunting, he was a well hated man by many but you defended him without really any reason to. You’d just learned his name not but two weeks ago, and before that he was dragging you around with rope yet you still defended him, had you two really gotten closer in the time that’s passed since? He wasn’t sure, but it was something he could mull over while you were sleeping. “Get some rest vaultie, sun’ll be up soon” he said, knowing you likely wouldn’t get much sleep with the adrenaline still coursing through you, but it was at least worth a try, you two had a long day ahead of you.

When you woke up that next morning, things felt a little different between you two. You weren’t some annoying little dog following him anymore, you were an equal. He no longer looked at you and treated you like you were lower than him as you both set out across the wastelands, he had respect for you. Hell, he even started talking with you now when you were out traveling which was almost unbelievable. You learned through those conversations that he used to be an actor in Wild West themed films, explaining his outfit, and that he was married before the bombs dropped. You of course told him bits and pieces about yourself in exchange, after all it only felt fair but it was also nice to just finally talk to someone after all this time.

When night time fell again you two sat enjoying a meal by the fire together, only rather than across from each other, he sat next to you, making a blush come to your face as you’d smiled sweetly at him. “Glad to know I don’t have germs anymore” you said jokingly, making him chuckle. “Give an old man some credit. It ain’t exactly all peaches and marmalade out here darlin’, even cute can be deadly” he said, the nickname and him calling you cute sending a deeper blush to your cheeks despite knowing it’s just how he spoke. Whether it was the lack of contact with other people for so long, or just his charm you couldn’t quite tell, but it always seemed to have an effect on you. “Just teasin’ you, I get it. I’d tie me up and use me for bait too if I’d been doing this as long as you have. It’s a shit hole out here” you said, making him look at you as you dropped the first curse word he’s ever heard from you. “Well I’ll be damned, either I’m a bad influence or you’re finally growin’ outta that naive shell there, vaultie” Cooper replied, making you laugh as you saw a smirk stretch to his thin, marred lips, the first one you’d seen in a while that wasn’t brought on by drugs, chems or that first sip of a good bottle of alcohol. “Probably both” you quipped, making him chuckle. “Yeah, probably. Been told I ain’t easy to stomach” he said, making you hum. “You’re alright in my book, Coop” you replied with a sweet, genuine smile that matched your tone and was that butterflies you felt in your stomach? Did you just call him Coop? No ones called him that in ages, why did it make his heart start to flutter a bit? “You ain’t so bad yourself, vaultie” he responded, still affording you that small smile before turning back to his food. “Keep making food this good and I just might have to keep you around” he joked, making you giggle and break the slightly tense silence. “It’s not much but I certainly try. I’ll definitely make sure to stay good at it, I like traveling with you” you said, unintentionally coming off flirtatious and fuck there it goes again, that feeling in his chest and his stomach like he needed to hit his inhaler but he felt great. What were you doing to him?

“Hey, if it isn’t too much can I ask you a sort of…personal question?” You asked, holding the beat up bowl in your hands as you looked over at him. This was normally the part where he would say no, absolutely not, he wasn’t here to be questioned on his personal matters. Yet, with you, it was different. Ever since last night he hasn’t been so on edge with you, it was like he’d warmed up to you. “Depends on what you’re askin’ there, sweetheart” he said, the nickname once again making you blush. “Do you…miss them? Your wife and daughter?” You asked, not sure if it was a good subject or good question to ask but after finding out, you were genuinely curious. He looked down at his bowl again, thinking of the proper response to your question. The old him would have been defensive, told you it was none of your business, but now? He wasn’t sure. “Ain’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about ‘em. About the way I ran out on ‘em when them bombs dropped” he answered, making you give him a sad look as genuine guilt filled his tone. This was the most honest and open he’s been with you this whole time. “I feel guilty. Not sure if I feel guilty for runnin’ out and leavin’ ‘em behind or guilty for the way I ran out, been tryin’ t’ figure that out for quite a while now and I still ain’t sure” he added, and you sympathized with that. Everyone has regrets, things they’ve done in the past that they aren’t proud of, people up here were no different in that aspect. “Well, in the short time I’ve gotten to know you, I’ve come to understand that everything you do has a valid reason behind it. So even if you feel it was a shitty thing to do, you obviously had a reason for doing so. No one can blame you for trusting your gut, and I don’t think you should blame yourself for doing so” you responded, your hand falling to his as a comforting gesture, your words ringing in his head almost as if you’d opened something in his mind, something he’d never really gave himself to think about before. He looked down at your hand that rested on his, noticing the way you didn’t flinch away from him like others did, the way you were brave enough to walk up to him, talk to him, *trust* him when he made it very clear that you shouldn’t. It was smaller than his, softer for sure, but warm all the same, then he looked up to see that caring look in your eyes and smile on your face that told him that you cared. “Guess you’re right, still wonder sometimes if it was the right choice to make” he replied. “I understand. Everyone has regrets, we all look at the past and hold at least something that we’ve done before in regret, it’s what makes us human” you said, making him give a huff as a chuckle. “You got anybody?” He asked, making you look down as you moved your feet along the dirt. “An ex-husband, but not anyone I really care about, no. My parents passed a few years before the bombings and he and I split up when I caught him cheating on me with some other woman in the vault..” you explained, not sure why it hurt you to tell the tale still, but you felt it was only fair considering what you’d asked of him to share. “Sorry t’ hear that” Cooper said, making you chuckle weakly, a somber look coming to your face that made his heart wrench. “I haven’t exactly been in love since, and considering he and I split up just a little over ten years ago, really says something I guess, huh?” You asked, trying to laugh to bring up the mood, knowing you sounded pathetic. “He was the fool, not you darlin’. He was the one skippin’ out on one hell of a woman” Cooper said, making you look to him and blush a bit as you gave a chuckle at his response.

“Thanks” you replied appreciatively and with a smile before casting your gaze down to see your hands were still connected and it left you blushing harder with embarrassment, you’d been holding his hand this entire time without realizing it. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable if I have I-“ “relax vaultie” he cut you off, pushing your hand back down onto his to assure you that he was far from uncomfortable. “It’s…rather nice actually” he admitted, making you feel relieved but your heart fluttered in your chest from it. A thick tension soon began to set in between you both after that night, something of an unspoken, kindling romance beginning to develop. “Then there it can stay” you said, making him smile softly at you, tipping his hat at you as a silent thank you.

Months passed on like this, where you’d spend the days scavenging, picking the land for its resources you could find and hunting bounties by day, then spending your nights by a fire growing closer and closer with every passing day. Through your shared meals, jokes, deep conversations, and plenty of near death experiences, you started to notice your fondness of the ghoul you traveled with. The way you’d hang onto his words with that southern accent that seemed to pull at your heart strings, or the way you’d go out of your way to stand between him and a stray bullet. You’d helped him on more than one occasion in getting out of a sticky spot, or getting him the stuff he needed to keep from turning feral. In return, he started to notice he was feeling the same towards you. There was this sudden need to keep you safe, to do nicer things for you, to speak better towards you, even flirt with you at times. Some nights there’d be so much tension in the air, it’s a miracle you haven’t jumped each other yet. Though in his eyes, as much as his heart yearned for you, he knew you were too good for him. You’d been hurt before, and he had a reputation for hurting people, feeling undeserving of even just the sweet smiles and company you afford him even now. You didn’t need someone like him, you needed a good man, someone who didn’t kill for a living, someone who could treat you right, someone who didn’t look the way he did. You were soft and warm, he was rough and cold, though he supposed that’s where the term “opposites attract” came from. So even when he was a whole bottle deep, he was sure to hold his tongue to a certain point.

Some of those nights around the fire were spent sober, others not so much, and this night happened to be one of those nights spent under the influence. You two had stumbled across a mini-mart, doing your best to out run the radstorm that had been trailing you guys for hours, coming in just to find whatever supplies you could to make it through the next week and possibly hunker down for the night. So imagine your surprise when you seemed to have found the largest chem stache you’d both ever laid eyes on. ���Coop! Come here, you gotta see this” you said, making him run towards you to make sure you weren’t hurt or in trouble. His nerves were eased once he saw you, fully intact. “Tell me I’m not seeing shit” you said, pointing to all of the supplies sitting in a box on the table, joined by other supplies around it. You both looked at each other in complete and utter disbelief, this would keep you stocked for months, maybe even a whole year if you conserved it well. “Well ain’t that just the prettiest fuckin’ sight” he said. There was no way a horde of chems this large and this valuable was just completely unprotected you reasoned, so you routed around the place, scoping out for any raiders, straggling traders or ferals who happened to still be around. It was as if heaven was shining down on you both as you found no one around, seemed like no one had been here for days. So you did the most logical thing anyone would do in this situation. Stuff each of your bags to the brim of drugs of all varieties! Seeing as you had food, chems and even some clean water and alcohol lying around, Cooper locked and barricaded the door shut, proposing it could be a good spot to sleep for the night. With a radstorm approaching, it was best to have a roof over your heads to keep out the rain and potential radiation sickness that came with it. “This is the closest fuckin’ thing to a slice of heaven I’ve seen in ages” he said, aside from you is what played in his mind but he couldn’t speak that out loud, no matter how much he wanted to. “You said it!” you replied, and it’s even better with you here you thought, but thought it best to keep it to yourself. He plopped down on the couch, kicking his feet up to rest on the small table that seemed to be in shambles, enjoying a tape that was playing on the TV that he was surprised to still see functioning. “Holy shit, this thing still works?” You asked, amazed to see working technology out in the wastelands, sitting next to him as you watched it with him. He gave a smirk at your reaction, thinking it was cute the way your eyes would light up when you got all excited over something. Deep down it made him want to give you everything you laid eyes on like that just to see it pointed towards him. “Guess so” he replied, enjoying your excitement only to see you turn and look his way, which was his signal to stop staring holes into you before he gets caught. “I dunno about you baby doll, but I ain’t about to spend tonight sober with this stache sittin’ here ‘n front of us” he said, making you laugh as he routed through all the different drugs and chems til he found what he was looking for.

In the process of searching through it all, a small metal box fell to the floor at your feet. It looked like a box of mentats only the design was different, instead of the characteristic green and white box was a red one covered with hearts labeled DN-Chem. You supposed the worst that could happen was turn into the man sitting next to you, which you figured wasn’t the worst fate to succumb to all things considered, so you went against all better judgement and said fuck it, popping two of the mentat like chems and chasing it with the vodka he’d found to wait for it to take effect. “The hell is DN?” He asked, looking at the box, wondering what it was you took. “Don’t know, guess we’ll find out here soon because I took two” you said, taking another sip from the bottle of vodka he passed your way, and he gave a chuckle as you handed it back to him. “You come a mighty long way, little lady” he commented before setting the metal pill box down. He took the bottle from you, taking a swig, then placing one of the small viles into his inhaler before taking a hit of it then lying back, breathing a sigh of relief as it and the alcohol entered his system like the perfect remedy to any ailment. As about a half an hour rolled by, you waited for the high to set in but it never came, instead you were just getting hot, like really hot. There weren’t any windows open, and it was night time so you shouldn’t be this uncomfortably hot for how it was but you felt like you were on fire. “Shit, it’s hot as hell in here…” you complained, shaking off your jacket that you’d picked off of some raider a few weeks back, making him look to you curiously. “Lightweight” he quipped, making you chuckle. “Accept I don’t feel anything, I just feel hot” you said, making him hum with intrigue before turning back to the TV. “Give it some time, you’re new to all this. ‘m sure your body is wonderin’ what the hell you just put in it” he said, and he had a good point, maybe it was just a side effect of not doing them so often compared to his every day use.

As time went on, you began to notice the way your eyes couldn’t help but be glued to him, more specifically glued to the way his legs were now spread as he sat back. You wondered to yourself what he looked like beneath all that cowboy get up, what his reaction would be like to see you getting on your knees for him and slotting yourself between his spread legs. You shook your head to try and rid yourself of such inappropriate thoughts, but what you couldn’t stop no matter how hard you tried was the feeling of arousal beginning to pool in your panties. Sure he flirted with you every now and again, but you doubt he felt towards you the same way you did for him. To him you were sure you were likely more akin to a pet than a friend, useful and nice to have around, but not anything further. At least so you thought. You’d rather hoped you were wrong in assuming so, that maybe he saw you the same way you saw him. You bit your lip as you tried bouncing your leg to relieve the ache between your thighs, a light pink dusting your face and neck even up to the tips of your ears, but nothing worked. Even as you closed your eyes, all you could picture was you laid out on the couch beneath him, or bent over it with him behind you, or you riding him on it. “Been awful quiet. You doin’ alright over there, sweetheart?” Cooper asked you, and the audible whimper you let out from the nickname left you completely embarrassed. You clasped a hand over your mouth, god you were horrified but he gave a grin and a chuckle in response. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into me all the sudden. I feel so…weird?” you said, unsure if that was really the proper word to explain it but it was the only way you could really word it off the top of your head with how much your brain felt as if it was turning to mush. “Ya took some chems, it’s gonna feel a bit fuzzy” he said, trying to assure you that feeling a little funny was normal, but this? This didn’t feel normal, not even for a chem high. You tried your best to swallow harshly, doing everything you could to try and relieve the dry ache you felt in your throat at the moment upon looking at him. You grabbed the bottle of vodka, taking a few sips but even that couldn’t grant you bliss from it. The throbbing in your core was driving you absolutely insane. You swore up and down that it was like you could feel your heartbeat in your chest, stomach, and in your cunt all at the same time. “No, this is different…I don’t think what I took was a normal chem, Coop…” you said, trying not to panic at the effects that were setting in but god you felt like you were absolutely feral. He turned to look at you, watching as you clamped your thighs together and the red that fell over your face. “I feel like an animal in heat” you said bluntly, making him go into a near coughing fit as you took him off guard. However that piqued his interest enough to pick up the little metal box again to see what it was you took. “I ain’t ever heard of a chem that does that, was that DN shit the only stuff you took?” He asked, growing slightly concerned for you and whether he had a possible horde of laced chems, or just an extremely horny woman on his hands. Speaking of hands, you were lost in thought staring at them, at the way they gripped the couch like you wanted him to grip your thighs, at the way they looked in those leather gloves he always wore. You wondered how it would feel wrapped around your throat, or how it would feel if his fingers were buried deep inside of you. Shit. This was getting out of control.

“Hey, ya with me still?” He asked, snapping to try and get your attention back on the matter at hand, making you shake your head yes as you broke from your perverted thoughts. “Is that DN shit the only thing you took?” He asked again, making you shake your head yes once more, because you knew damn well your voice was going to betray you the moment you tried to speak. That had to be it, it was the only thing that was different out of it all and the only thing he’d never heard of before. He knew it wasn’t the vodka either because he was drinking it with you, so if it was affecting you, it would have affected him and it hadn’t.

It took him a minute to put two and two together before he finally realized the abbreviations stood for Date Night, reading the instructions and effects on the inside of the tin’s lid. “Shit..” he said as he read it, realizing this was a hand made thing thrown into the bunch by whoever was running this place. “Did you read the lid before you popped them pills?” He asked, making you go wide eyed. As if this couldn’t get any fucking worse, this shit show could have been avoided had you just read the inside of the lid. “There was instructions?? Oh my god…what the fuck did I take?” You asked, concerned for yourself and the tone he had while reading it. “Somethin’ that the creator of it called Date Night. Looks like it’s a…well looks like it’s a handmade sex chem” he said, making you cover your face with your hands out of sheer embarrassment, you’d never wanted to die out in a radstorm more than you did right now. “Please tell me you’re fucking joking, cooper…” you whined, watching him read it more. “How much of it did you take?” He asked, almost scared to know and you were scared to know why. “Two?” You replied, making him whistle at that as he read it. “Fuckin’ hell sugar..” he said through a chuckle, and that nickname made a shiver run through you, sending electric bolts straight to your throbbing cunt. You did your best to bite back the whimper. “You’re only s’possed take one, and with you bein’ new t’ all this, I wouldn’t have taken more than half” he said, making you just wish you could just dig a hole and die in it already. “Fuck me…wait, shit! N-Not literally fuck me I- well I mean I’d like if you did but…FUCK! Forgive me Cooper, I’m so sorry, I can hardly think straight” you said, making him chuckle. “Well sweetheart, I think you and I both know there’s only one good fix for this situation” he said, making you whimper pathetically at the thought, your thighs squeezing together even more as you tried to fight to stay sane. Your eyes cast downwards to his lap once more, seeing the tent forming in his pants, clearly you weren’t the only one all worked up here. “I don’t want to make you feel like you have to, Coop. I can run off and take care of myself if it makes you uncomfort-“ you rambled but before you could finish, his hand cupped the side of your face, pulling you in for a long awaited kiss. You moaned into it without meaning to, feeling the way your body immediately relaxed upon wrapping your arms around him with no hesitation as the sweet innocent kiss turned passionate and dirty rather quickly.

“I won’t lie t’ you, doin’ this with you has passed my mind more times than I’d care to admit, but I don’t wanna cross that line unless you really want this” he said, looking into your eyes and making sure that this was truly what you wanted, that you felt the same way he did. “Coop, I know I’m under the influence of whatever the fuck this drug is, but trust me when I say, I’d be just as good with it sober. Been thinking about it for probably just as long as you have, if I’m honest with you. I want this, I want you and right now I want you so fucking bad that I might lose my mind if you don’t fuck me” you answered bluntly, taking him by surprise at just the sheer amount of absolute filth that left your otherwise innocent mouth, making him chuckle at your use of curse words and how desperate you were for him. “That so sugar?” He asked with a grin, enjoying teasing you at your neediest moments, including now. “God yes, Cooper please..” you begged, nearly moaning in reply and he’d spent time mulling over it before, denying himself the chance but just as the chem stache was a pot of gold, he took this as one of the best opportunities being placed in his lap by whatever higher power existed out there, making him waste no time in kissing you once more. “Good, because I don’t think I’d be able to hold myself back once we’ve started” he said, and the idea made you moan. “Don’t want you to hold back, want all of you” you said, and your wish was his command.

By the time your brain could finally catch up with you again, your clothes were strewn out all around you, your tank top hanging over the back of the couch, your jeans thrown haphazardly on the arm rest behind you, his pants on the floor, his hat on the table and shirt and duster having fallen somewhere behind the couch. By now, you’d already cum on his fingers twice, and on his cock once, this was your fourth round and this shit still had you on fire. “Yes!! Oh fuck, Cooper!” you moaned as your legs wrapped around his hips, keeping him as close to you as you could get, your fingers digging crescent shapes and puffy red lines into his back that unfortunately he knew wouldn’t stay long thanks to his ability to heal stupidly fast. “Doin’ so good for me, baby doll. Look so pretty like this for me, all splayed out like a needy little whore” he praised and degraded through his groans, making you moan and roll your eyes into the back of your head at the praise mixed with degradation as his cock was drilling deep inside you like tonight was all you guys had. “Yeah, you like that, huh sweet thing? Like it when I tell you how good it feels and call you names?” He asked, making you nod your head yes because there wasn’t a single thought in that brain of yours other than his name, which you spoke like a mantra. “Never knew such a sweet lil’ thing like you would be such a dirty little minx. Fuck…enough to make a man like me go feral, ya know that?” he said, making you giggle as you moved his free hand up to your throat, urging him to choke you, and he groaned at the sight. Your kiss swollen lips all puffy and shining with spit, your cheeks dusted a constant pink that grew darker anytime his cock brushed that spot deep inside that made you cling to him, your eyes half lidded, looking up at him like he was your savior. It made him absolutely rock hard knowing you’d pick him over anyone else in this god forsaken wasteland. “My, you are just a little freak, ain’t you? Oh we are gonna have fun together, you and me honey” he promised, squeezing your throat tight enough to restrict your airflow but not enough to hurt or cause any damage. Just enough to get that puddle of a brain of yours all fuzzy as you got closer to your fourth orgasm of the night. “Cooper…’m so close, so close please!!” You begged, feeling the heavy drag of his cock as he pounded into you, leaving you damn near screaming as it nudged your cervix and that spongy little bundle of nerves deep inside. “Go on honey, I gotchya. Let go for me, wanna see those pretty faces and hear those pretty noises you make” he said, angling his hips just right to hit that spot over and over again. “Oh fuck, oh fuck I’m gonna cum again, I-“ you warned before your moans rose in pitch as your walls clamped around him, gushing on his cock as your orgasm hit you like a freight train. Your body arched off the couch, stars filling your vision for a moment as you felt your release gush out and coat your inner thighs, screaming his name like it was your only chance at salvation. “Well ain’t I just the damn luckiest man in the wastelands right now, got me a pretty little vaultie and she’s a gusher” he said, making you whimper at his teasing but judging by the way he emptied himself inside you for the second time, you took it as a sign that he liked that about you. “Holy shit, I-I didn’t know I could do that” you said, thoroughly shocked with what your brain and body were doing as they almost seemed to almost be working against each other. “Do it again for me” he said, grabbing you and moving you both to where you were straddling him this time. His hands rested on your hips, helping guide you as you speared yourself on his dick with ease from how absolutely soaked you were, making you both throw your head back and moan. “Now that’s a damn good sight” he said, making you lean in to kiss him once more as his hands helped you start and keep a steady rhythm with your hips. It was definitely going to be a long night, but one you two have been needing for months, maybe even longer.

It’s a good thing ghouls have remarkable recovery time, because in order to finally get you sated and back to normal, you both had to spend all night going at it. Granted, it was aided by the mix of pent up sexual tension and pent up sexual frustration, but it was dawn before you both had gotten to a point where you could even *try* and fall sleep. First few times was on the couch between missionary, doggy and you riding him, next was you bent over it, with your pretty legs spread and ass in the air for him. Then, you used the arm rest of the couch as a pillow beneath your hips as he stood up while you laid out on the couch. He liked that one a lot for the way your tits would bounce with each and every forceful thrust into you, jolting your body. After that, it was done standing up with your back pressed against a wall, your legs and arms wrapped around him to keep him deep inside of you and fill you til he had nothing left to give you. From that point on, the rest of the night was all a hormone-hazed blur, but you knew well that he took care of you. You woke up unbelievably sore, your joints aching in places that you had no idea could even ache, a swollen, angry throb between your legs for the harsh, almost punishing treatment to your pussy followed by bruises, bite marks, scratch marks, hand prints etc. littered your skin as you woke up curled into Cooper’s side. You gave a gravelly groan as the sun shone in your eyes through the windows, making him chuckle at the way you were such a ray of sunshine except in the morning. Coming to learn that you absolutely *hated* mornings. Though you suppose you started to enjoy them more since traveling with him. “Mornin’ sunshine” he said coyly, making you groan disapprovingly at the way the sun was in your eyes, making you hold your hand up to cast a shadow on your face and grant you some relief. “Morning” you answered, your voice hoarse and half gone from sleep and all your activities that transpired the previous night. “Ain’t that a pretty sight” he said, turning and seeing you curled up to him, naked, your hair all messy from sleep and the hickeys and bite marks littering your skin, making you chuckle. “Last night was definitely something, can’t believe you’ve been holding all *that* out on me” you joked, making him give a dry laugh. “Could say the same thing about you, sugar. Had no idea that mind a yours could be so filthy. You’re a wild thing to party with, lil’ lady” he teased, sliding his arm around you to keep you close, making you hum as you lay soft, appreciative kisses to his collarbone and chest. “You’re fun too, and thank you for taking care of me last night. I’m sorry that it ended up happening the way that it did, I wanted to work up the courage and tell you some other way, I really did, but I guess life had other plans” you said making him chuckle as he saw you blush when he kissed your head. “Drunk words are sober thoughts they say, so I’d say I made out pretty good. But don’t sweat it, not sure how I deserved someone as good as you, but it’s good to know I ain’t as hard to stomach as most people say” he said, pulling you in for a soft, heartfelt kiss. “I think you are just perfect, Cooper” you said, your hand resting on his scarred chest as you looked at him with that gaze he swore he’d do anything to see pointed his way.

“You really wanna be my girl?” He asked softly, sounding shocked and with some self doubt still lacing his tone, but he had to be sure this was what you wanted outside of the drug’s effects. He cared for you deeply, in a way that he hasn’t felt in a very long time, but maybe you were just the right person for him to finally open his heart up to. His question made you giggle as your heart fluttered in your chest with excitement. “I absolutely do, I meant it when I said it last night, I mean it just as much now. I think we’ve danced around it for long enough, don’t you?” you replied, making him smile the most genuinely happy smile you’ve seen him wear since you’d met. “Just checkin’” he said, before laying a sweet kiss to your lips, wishing every morning could be like this one. Maybe it could, now that you were here with him.

[neuvistar]

Biker! Dan heng, Sunday and aventurine?

Sfw and NSFW

Like I'm brain dead for them

DREAM RIDE. biker! honkai star rail men part one

— featuring ┊aventurine, sunday, (il) dan heng x fem!reader (all separate)

— warnings / content warnings ┊all consensual! sfw + nsfw, feminine terms used (she, girl, etc), cunniligus (aventurine #1 pussy eater strikes again), orgasm denial (sunday), jus a tad bit of subby dan heng, semi-public s3x? (sunday), blowjob (dan heng), use of vibrators (sunday), riding (dan heng) use of nicknames, multiple orgasms, bath s3x (aventurine), sunday is a MENACE here, reader implied 2 be a lil smaller than them, v4ginal fingering (aventurine), more tba! | 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

— a/n ┊NOT PROOFREAD ! might correct tmr if i’m not sleepy! <3 anyways hi guys writers block stopped biting my ass anyways guys i’m SOOO attracted 2 aventurine it’s acc insane he needs to be jailed from how majestic he is.. erm! whoever keeps sending asks abt biker! hsr men god bless u and ur entire family | reblogs r appreciated

⊹ 𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄

sfw.

⊹ BIKER!AVENTURINE who would take you out for late night rides! he’s a total drama queen, let’s get that out of the way. he loves you, yes, but he’d get so pouty whenever you turn him down for your daily night rides with him, he sulks and sulks.. clinging onto your figure until you finally say yes! jokes aside, aventurine really does enjoy your company, he really does value quality time as he would go as far to even take you out to see the stars, feel the breeze and have some fresh air, or just have a midnight snack!

“come on, baby.. 2am is nothing! just come and ride with me for a bit, i promise i’ll have you back til 3?”

⊹ BIKER!AVENTURINE who always finds himself buying you gifts before visiting you and such! sometimes he’d just be riding around on the road and all of the sudden his hands are full of bags and gifts just for you before he gets to your place! he’s a huge gift giver, spoiling you to the brim.

“would [name] like this one.. no no, maybe this one. hm.. maybe both.”

⊹ BIKER!AVENTURINE who can be insecure at times, sometimes he thinks about whether he’s truly right for you or not. like, usually he wouldn’t give in to these thoughts but there are times where he’s just riding around at night n he suddenly stops n goes.. “what if [name] is bored of me?” even though he might not show it, poor thing needs A LOT and i mean A LOT of reassurance from you, please tell him he’s good enough for you!

“my darling.. are you sure i’m right for you? i mean, you know. i’ve just been.. thinking. you’re not gonna leave, are you.. hm? ‘gonna stay with me, right?”

nsfw.

⊹ BIKER!AVENTURINE absolutely loves having sex while you both take bubble baths, i mean.. it’s essential to have good hygiene, isn’t it? aventurine pumped his fingers within your pussy, circling his thumb over your clit as he licked his lips, nuzzling close against your neck. “mmh.. you like that?” his voice, husky and low as his fingers reached the deepest parts of your cunt, a sharp gasp caught in your throat as he held you firmly against him. watching you struggle to stifle your moans made him feel a combination of pride and surprise. aventurine gripped your waist lightly, offering support and reassurance. "damn, sweetheart.. are my fingers that good?" he murmured, his voice low and steady.

aventurine growled softly, pleasure coursing through him at your reaction. his fingers deeply thrusted in and out of you, feeling your tight walls spasm around his digits. with a lick of his lips, he added another finger within your drenched pussy.. the sound of water splashing against his fingers, his speed rising more and more.. stretching you delicately. "missed this," he groaned, adding more speed to his rhythm. "missed the way your body responds to me, my darling girl..” his eyes locked onto yours, seeing the desire mirrored back at him. he wanted to make you cum, that was his goal for the night.. to hear you scream his name again. the roughness of his fingers grew, the sounds of water splashing against his hand was enough to embarrass you, aeons.. he was going fast alright. “c’mon, sweetheart.. it’s been ages since i made you squirt. mmh.. these fingers are good enough to make you squirt, right?”

⊹ BIKER!AVENTURINE who would eat you out almost all the time, whether it’s on his motorcycle seat while he holds your body, or maybe his table filled with tools, or just a plain old bed. aventurine is willing to eat you out literally anywhere, his tongue piercing made it even better. aventurine savoured every second of this, allowing his senses to be consumed by your intoxicating flavour. your body trembled above him, carefully laid on the seat of his motorcycle as he chuckled against your pussy.. your hands buried in his hair as he delved deeper into your depths. the blonde’s tongue danced expertly, exploring every hidden crevice while his fingers played with your swollen bud. “you taste divine," he murmured against your sex, causing you to arch your back sharply. "just like the finest wine, only better." his words hung heavy in the air between them, fuelling your rising passion.

aventurine attacked your cunt hungrily, devouring your folds with complete vigor. aeons, he was obsessed with your pussy, and your taste. the way your wetness spilled out onto his tongue, mixing with the warm atmosphere surrounding the both of you drove him crazy. his large hands held you firmly against the seat of his motorcycle, hands roamed freely over your body, tweaking one of your nipples roughly while diving deeper inside your drenched pussy. your boyfriend groaned into your folds, feeling your walls tremble around him. “good darling.. such a good girl taking my tongue so well.” “.. ‘turine.. you’re gonna make me fall on here.. j—just eat me out on the desk..” you murmured, wincing when you felt a slap on your pussy. “whoops, sorry angel,” ugh.. this tease. “mm.. no-can-do, sweetheart. i like seeing you like this. just imagine, my cum leaking out of your pussy and right onto my bike.” he licked a single stripe on your cunt, chuckling when he noticed your legs quivering. “oh how fascinating would that be.”

⊹ 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘

sfw.

⊹ BIKER!SUNDAY who has a habit of grabbing onto your waist, or just snaking his arm around it! i mean, he does this for many reasons.. one, to show you’re taken, and two, mm.. he just feels like it! sunday would do it on random occasions, whether he’s talking with his biker friends, at the cashier, anywhere! he loves grabbing your waist and he makes that very clear, maybe if he’s in the mood.. he’d slide his hand beneath your shirt as well wink wink

sunday glanced at your form, a small smile forming on his face when he saw you examining your surroundings. he snaked an arm around your waist, pulling your body firmly against his.

⊹ BIKER!SUNDAY who’s jealousy is intense. sunday would get angry at you, give you the silent treatment, or just bluntly ignore you if you were found talking and laughing with another guy other than him. he refuses to believe that you can be happy with other guys other than him. he would glare at other people he catches staring at what’s his, he was.. possessive. and whenever you catch sight of it, he would try and manipulate you to thinking he’s doing it for your own good! because all those men that were staring at you were bad! (wow, he’s a bastard) saying this, he’s a huge manipulator.. it can be a handful dating him.

“trust me, my love. can’t you see how those men were staring at you?” his voice was soft, dangerously soft. the malicious glint in his eyes didn’t hide anything. “they’re after you, angel. they’re after what’s mine. i’m only trying to protect you. why are you so doubtful of me, hm? do you not love me anymore? are you perhaps.. bored of me?”

⊹ BIKER!SUNDAY who loves being in control, this can be taken in a sexual or non sexual sense <3 sunday is assertive, and he knows what’s right for you. (most of the time!) he can be a bit controlling at times, but he means no harm! he just wants to keep you safe, promise! sometimes sunday would give you that look whenever you would try n defy him, he means business.. trust me. because of this, he can be cold and stubborn towards you at times without even knowing, geez.. he really needs to work on that.

nsfw.

⊹ BIKER!SUNDAY loves being in control, as i’ve mentioned.. but especially in bed. besides that, he’s so damn mean.. he doesn’t let you cum unless he tells you to, kissing your tears away with his lips. “ah ah ah, darling.. what did i say about cumming?” his eyes devoured your small frame, taking in every curve and angle of your body. sunday couldn't help but feel a surge of dominance and control over you, chuckling lowly. you was his, every fiber of your being was his, and he'd take care of you properly. his thrusts were hard to take in, his size and speed.. aeons. the way his cock slides in so easily had him biting his lip, he’s so mean and strict whenever you both make love, spanking you a few times whenever he sees you dozing off!

his eyes never left yours, even when he would immediately pull out when you were on the verge of orgasming, earning a sweet whine from your lips. “please.. please let me cum! sunday, baby please.. i can’t hold it anymore!” oh, how if only you knew how much he loves it when you beg. “oh baby.. i love it when you beg like that.” sunday groaned deeply from pleasure, landing another smack to your ass.. grinning at the sight of you swirling beneath him, “it only makes me wanna do this more.. it makes me wanna keep you here, stop you from cumming all over my cock. do you want that?” “n—no please.. please let me cum, sunday.. i need it—“ “keep begging, my angel. maybe i’ll let you cum if you keep begging and whining for me. come now, speak up.”

⊹ BIKER!SUNDAY who absolutely loves using vibrators on you whenever you both go out together, it’s amusing to him! (stupid bastard) he would increase it’s speed at random times to catch you off guard.. for his own amusement. listen, you really love your boyfriend but sometimes you just wanna slap that stupid smile off his face. you were casually picking out some candy in the candy aisle, a soft smile on your face before you felt that same old sensation within you.. causing a gasp to leave your pretty lips. “mm.. what are you looking at here, my love?” sunday murmured softly, chuckling at your vulnerable state. “sunday.. lower the speed please..” you begged, aeons! you were stupid to even think he’d decrease it’s speed!

your boyfriend smirked, the vibrator’s speed only grew more by the second as you could feel the wetness of your pussy seep through your panties, filling you with humiliation and embarrassment as you could barely walk, holding your hand over your mouth. “fuck.. sunday please..” you knew begging wasn’t gonna get you anywhere.. you knew you would have to have that stupid thing inside you for hours on end, overstimulating your pussy and entire body while your boyfriend watched and held you with pure amusement. to your bewilderment, there were times where sunday would go as far to fingering you by a nearby alleyway, his hands drenched in your juices. this man.. you wanted to be mad at him but you couldn’t bring yourself to be. sunday’s pretty fingers dug deep into your drenched pussy, knuckles deep while he had that same stupid sadistic smile on his face. “i should put that thing in you more.. look how wet your pussy is. it’s practically drooling for me, angel.”

⊹ 𝐈𝐋 𝐃𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐆

sfw.

⊹ BIKER!DANHENG who is more of a private relationship typa guy, he prefers to keep his relationships private! despite this, he still shows his love for you in many other ways, it’s easy to say that some people are even surprised he was dating you, because of how reserved he is when it came to personal matters <3 he values his and yours’ privacy, you can trust me on that!

⊹ BIKER!DANHENG who struggles putting on his helmet because of his horns (lol), you find it really cute! whenever he leaves your house, sometimes he takes 10 minutes trying to figure out how to wear a helmet because of his horns. he found this so annoying to the point he probably had a custom helmet made for him and his horns!

you nearly let out a giggle when you gazed at him, struggling to wear his helmet over his head. dan heng’s tail swished against his leg, glancing up at you with a slight frown. “[name], it’s not funny.”

⊹ BIKER!DANHENG who would teach you how to ride a motorcycle so you and him can ride around together, i mean.. you can’t blame him! he doesn’t show it much, but he really does hope to spend more time with you, and he thinks this is effective and efficient! dan heng would guide you through it slowly, keeping his hands on your waist while he helped your practice with the brakes and all you needed to know! to be honest, this was really just an excuse to touch you, but can you blame him? his large hands would brush against your hips, helping you adjust and sit properly, it’s a good thing these things take awhile to learn!

“mhm, i got you.” his thumb rubbed circles on your hips, humming. “you’re a fast learner, [name]. you never fail to surprise me.”

nsfw.

⊹ BIKER!DANHENG who just loves having your pretty mouth wrapped around his cock after an exhausting day of biking all day and night. soft gasps and whimpers left his lips as he showed a completely different side of him that night, full of pure desperation and need. “am i.. doing this right?” your voice was muffled against his dick, sending vibrations to his nerves as his hand was carefully placed atop of your head, body aching for release. “yes.. keep sucking me off like that..” with a grunt, he closed his eyes briefly while savouring the warmth of your tongue tracing circles around the sensitive slit.

"more please, baby..“ dan heng begged, arching his back slightly as your warm, wet tongue caressed the head of his cock, teasing him mercilessly before sliding down its veiny shaft. the sensation was foreign yet familiar, sending waves of pleasure coursing through his body. unable to resist any longer, he reached down, gripping your hair tightly as he thrusts his hips upward, pushing deeper into your waiting mouth.his breathing became heavier, the sound of each labored gasp echoing in the otherwise silent room, punctuated by the sloppy sounds of your mouth working him over. your tongue swirls around the base of his cock, teasing the sensitive area underneath his balls before returning to suck and stroke him feverishly. “you’re so good to me.. s.. so good to me..”

⊹ BIKER!DANHENG who would let you ride him just like how he lets you ride his motorcycles! he just wants to put your pleasure first, really. dan heng’s mind raced as he watched you ride him. he was going to lose it, he knew it very well. the sight of you bouncing on his cock, your pussy coating his cock with pure white juices, the sound of your gasps, and the feeling of your breasts against his chest created a whirlwind of emotions. he watched you struggle to stifle your moans while gripping your waist lightly, offering support and reassurance. "you’re doing great, love. fuck.. take your time and do what feels good," he encouraged, his voice low and steady.

he hoped his presence provided comfort, guiding his precious girlfriend to enjoy the sensations without feeling pressure to perform. their bodies moved in harmony together, lust fuelled by the thrill of victory as dan heng’s breaths grew ragged. his face flushed at the sight of your breasts bouncing, biting his lip at how overwhelming this was.. the sound of skin slapping against each other was all that came through, their moans punctuated the intensity of their shared moment. your hands grabbed everywhere.. his biceps, his chest, and oh.. even his horns. he was absolutely losing it. “sh—shit.. use my cock, use my cock for your own pleasure, beloved.. you’re doing so well..”

@ NEUVISTAR. do not plagiarize, claim my work as your own, translate or share my posts on any platform outside of tumblr.

[lovelivision]

꒰꒰mdni // masterlist꒱꒱

When Geto fucks, he fucks mean. All sharp thrusts and harsh grip, tone lilted and kind as he degrades you in a way that almost makes you feel like he’s praising you, dancing a fine line that you can never really tell is teasing or not.

Hands heavy on your thighs when he folds you into a mating press, one that makes your muscles scream with the stretch. Him leaning into you, only to lick at the tears you spill onto your cheeks, smile painted on his face as he holds you there, pressed so deep inside you that you can hardly breathe.

“Cock drunk already? You usually take it so much better, feeling pathetic tonight, hmm?”

Trying to fight back your tears and gasp for breath long enough to reply, finally opening your mouth to refute him, “I don’t–  ah!”

Getting cut off abruptly by the way he begins thrusting again, fucking you so deep your eyes cross and you could swear you see stars. Barley able to register the way he chuckles at the dumb look on your face.

“You look pretty like this,” he compliments, only to follow it up with, “All stupid and fucked out,” pressing a sweet kiss to your cheekbone, “It’s cute.”

It’s embarrassing how much you like it, cunt gushing around him, gripping him tight, sucking him back in before he really gets a chance to leave. Forcing him to fuck into you harder, faster, and if he thought you were cock drunk before, then he knows you are now.

Drooling from how good it feels, head spinning and hands tugging at any part of him you can reach, seeking purchase. Mouth agape and moaning, panting, trying to verbalise how good it feels only for your words to get caught on another moan and never come.

“Can’t even talk,” he tuts, “It’s pitiful really.” His thrusts faltering at how your pussy jumps at his words, “Ah, so needy for someone incapable of speaking,” eyes glinting with his intent to drive you wild.

Breath stuttering in your chest when he leans down and nips at your collarbone, delighting in how you twitch and squirm for him. Enjoying your reactions maybe a bit too much but he always does like to push you.

“Let’s see how many times you can cum before you pass out,” grin devilish when he sees how your wet eyes grow so big and worried.

You’re in for a long night.

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 39: Life

Summary: Something begins to throb in your chest as you lay there. Something thrums deep within you, something you haven’t felt in weeks.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 7,343 words

Warnings: Angst, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, angst, PTSD, nightmares, POV changes, depression and anxiety, illness, language, slightly graphic imagery, very slight violence, rumination, lots of feels, and yes finally some comfort

A/N: Yes, it has finally arrived. The time has come. We are now in the comfort. This very much is a good place to end things for the next month. If you haven't seen my post then I'll say it here, I will be putting the fic on a brief hiatus for the month of October. I have Kyletober planned and trying to do CRCB at the same time will be too much. So this will be the last chapter for a couple weeks while I focus on other things and just give my brain a little break from CRCB. It's been eight months of just pumping out long chapters every week, or almost every week, so I need a little break to focus on other things. I'll still be writing and posting things here (and Ao3 of course) but there won't be another CRCB chapter posted until November.

But anyway, I hope you enjoy this one and the comfort starting and I'm super excited for what's coming next month (can't believe it's almost October)

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

“I need you to be brave.” Christine says, staring up at him. 

His heart thumps in his chest. How bad is it that not only did she summon him down here, but she’s asking him to be brave. He knows you’re sick, that you’ve fallen ill after your moment of anger earlier. She had informed them over dinner as she made some broth that you came down with a fever. 

They had all been worried, sharing glances at the news. John looked like a dog that had been scolded. It was his fault, after all. 

If anything happens to you, it is his fault. 

Johnny swallows the lump in his throat, nodding slowly as he stares down at Christine. “I can be brave.” 

Christine stares up at him for a long moment before nodding. She pushes the door open, leading him inside your room. The scent in the air is thick, tainted by the bitter scent of anxiety still lingering in the air, and the sour scent of illness. He misses the fresh scent of strawberries, he has missed it over the last few weeks. Your scent had taken on a bitter edge ever since the cameras were revealed to them. It’s only gotten stronger recently after the events that transpired. 

All of their scents have been off lately. 

It’s dark in the room aside from the bedside lamp. It casts a soft glow around the room, elongating the shadows in the corners. They loom threateningly, and his fingers twitch to turn on the overhead light. 

You don’t like the overhead light. It’s too bright. 

You always prefer softer light. Is it an omega thing, or is it just a you thing? He’s not quite sure. 

How little they really understand you. 

The lamp illuminates a pile of blankets on the bed, stacked one on top of each other to create a lump of soft fabric. You’re underneath that pile, he knows it. You’ve always liked blankets, always carried one with you in the barracks, eternally cold in the harsh world they existed in on base. This many blankets though? It was excessive even for you. 

He approaches the bed slowly, scared at what he might find. Images of you laying in a puddle of blood, cold and stiff fills his mind. Images of a skeletal figure reduced to nothing but skin stretched over bones has his heart racing. What will he find on the other side of that pile obscuring you from his vision? 

He swallows down his fear, reminding himself that he’s a soldier. He’s seen dead bodies before, he’s killed before. So why is he so scared now? 

This isn’t war. It’s you. 

He steps up to the side of the bed, looking down on you. You’re shivering, trembling under the blankets. Sweat beads on your forehead, skin dewy and clammy in your fever. You look more alive than the skeletal figure he had pictured in his mind, but you don’t look well. 

You look near death. 

“I’m worried about her.” Christine says, closing the door behind her. “She needs someone from her pack close. You’re making the most effort right now, and if anyone might get through to her, it’s you. She needs...someone.” Christine sighs. “Someone who can offer what I can’t.”  

“She needs a member of her pack.” Johnny says, easily putting together what Christine was saying. 

He knows what she’s asking. He’s scared. He’s not sure how you’ll react. The last people you want to see right now is your pack, including him. How will you react to having him so close? 

“Exactly.” Christine says, stepping up right next to him.

Her fingers wrap around his wrist, and he lets her guide his hand to your cheek. It’s hot and clammy against his palm, a fire blazing under your skin. You let out a shuddering breath, the air fanning weakly against his wrist. Your head turns just slightly, pressing into his hand. It’s a good sign, despite the delirium you have to be stuck in. What are you imagining is happening right now? What is your brain telling you? 

“Touch her, talk to her.” Christine says, releasing his wrist. He keeps his hand there, pressed against your cheek. “We need to try and get her back before this gets worse.” 

Before they lose you. 

She won’t say it out loud. 

She doesn’t need to. 

Johnny nods, turning his head to look at Christine over his shoulder. She looks exhausted, and not just because of the late hour. She’s done so much over the past few weeks watching you and caring for you. Maybe it is time one of them tries to step up and help her. You can’t avoid them forever, no matter how much you might feel like trying. 

He has to try. For you. 

“I know what tae do.” He says, his eyes flickering to the books stacked on your dresser, the ones Simon and John picked up. 

Christine squeezes his arm. “I’m just across the living room if you need me.” 

“I’ll try not to.” He says. 

She stares up at him for a long moment before nodding. She understands. He doesn’t have to say much else. She leaves the door cracked and he doesn’t mind, moving away from you to look through the books on the dresser. A handful of them are new, or at least ones he’s never seen you read before. A couple are ones he knows are in your collection at the barracks. He picks one of those, some fantasy novel he’s seen you read more than once. 

He looks between the bed and the chairs. He could pull one over and sit by your side. 

No, Christine said it was better to touch you. 

Instead he climbs onto the bed, sitting close enough he can feel the heat from your body. He cracks open the book, flipping through to the first page. He clears his throat, staring down at you for a moment before he begins to read. 

Rain batters the roof, coming down hard outside. The wind is blowing, whooshing past the house, rattling the shutters. The storm blew in from the sea, dumping rain by dinner and then the wind picked up by the time they were all getting ready to settle in for the night. 

It feels fitting, a storm blowing in at a time when a storm is brewing within their pack.

The storm he blew into their pack. 

He lays there in bed, listening to it rage outside. It’s quiet in the house, Simon and Johnny already settled in, and so are you downstairs. Kyle is beside him, but not asleep. He’s laying awake again as they have done since their arrival. He can feel the heat of Kyle’s body against his arm as he lays on his back, Kyle on his side facing away from him. 

“You just had to do it, didn’t you?” Kyle asks quietly, breaking the silence. “Can’t even go a week without trying to apologize knowing full well she won’t forgive you.” 

John stays silent, having expected some kind of reprimanding for his actions. He really was selfish for what he did. Kyle is right. You won’t forgive him, no matter how many times or ways he tries to say sorry. 

“You’re just making it worse.” Kyle huffs out. “You’re the last person that should try apologizing right now.”

“You’re right.” He finally says. “It was selfish of me to do that. I just wanted her to know-” 

“She knows.” Kyle snaps, cutting him off. “She’s not stupid and oblivious. She knows we’re all feeling guilty, she knows how sorry we all are. She won’t let us apologize until she’s ready. Shows just how little you actually understand her, trying to do that.” Kyle pushes himself up to sit. “She doesn’t want words. She’s had words spewed at her, her whole life telling her what to do, how to feel, how to act. She want’s actions. She wants us to prove to her that we do care, that we are sorry, that we’re making an effort to make things up to her. She wants us to prove that we’re putting her first by putting her first.” 

John knows he’s right. Words won’t solve a situation like this. None of them know where to start, though. How do you try and make things up to someone when you’re not even sure that person wants you to try? 

“She’s sick now, because of what you did.” Kyle continues. “If anything happens to her...” He trails off, shaking his head. 

“I’ll let you take the first shot.” John says. “I know. I’ve been a miserable excuse of an alpha. It’s easy when you have the confines of the military to hold everything in place. When those expectations dictate your life and how to run a pack. It’s easy, when you can exist as a pack with those set routines and structures. The facade that makes everything seem like it's working.” He shakes his head. “We never would have worked outside of those confines.” 

Kyle’s head turns slightly towards him, but his gaze is still on the far wall. “No, we wouldn’t have. None of us would have chosen this in the first place.” 

“Probably not.” John agrees. “Then we got an omega added, an outsider that showed us just how weak we really were.” 

“We were crumbling long before that.” Kyle says. “We weren’t ready for an omega, we shouldn’t have ever had an omega.” 

“I should never have been head alpha.” John says. “Being an alpha is different from being a captain. It shouldn’t have been me.” 

Kyle snorts. “He would have never agreed.” 

“That delay might have saved us.” 

“Or it would have made things worse.” Kyle says. “Shepherd wanted us to bond with her right away so his control over us would strengthen if he had to use that power. If those bonds weren’t put into place when they were, they might have tried to force it.” 

“That would have only destabilized things further.” John says. Kyle isn’t wrong. Who knows what lengths they would have gone to, to ensure what they wanted would happen. “They were watching us from the start. They knew exactly how to play all of us.” 

“Simon was right all along in his suspicions.” Kyle says, laying back down on the bed. Their shoulders are touching. It feels nice, having him close again. They’ve been close for the last few days, forced together by their sleeping arrangements, but it feels different now. 

“He’ll be a better alpha than I ever could be.” John says quietly, almost speaking to himself. 

“I think she will come to forgive you eventually.” Kyle says, turning his head to look at John. “You just have to give her time. A lot of time. You have to figure out how to prove yourself worthy of that forgiveness.” 

“I want to take her to the beach.” John says. “Once she’s recovered.” 

“If she recovers.” Kyle had pieced together the worry in Christine’s voice combined with her words. They all had. 

“She will.” John says. “She’s a tough little thing. She’s not going to give up just like that.” 

“I hope you’re right.” Kyle says. 

“I may not have the best track record with being right currently, but I’m confident in her and her strength.” John turns his head to look at Kyle in the darkness. The storm is calming outside, the wind dying down and the rain lightening. “She’s stronger than all of us combined.” 

The corners of Kyle’s lips twitch. “You are right about that.” 

It smells good. 

There’s a rich scent in the air as you begin to wake. It smells like Christmas, like spices and citrus. Warm gingerbread and cider. Freshly squeezed orange juice on Christmas morning just like every year. It had been your favorite, though you never understood the lengths your mother went to, the early morning and the hours spent in the kitchen on Christmas slaving away to make everything perfect. Everyone got something they wanted, something they loved. You never appreciated that effort until now. 

Oranges. Spices. Warmth. 

You know that scent. 

It’s hot in the room, sweat soaking your skin as you lay on your right side. Heat surrounds you like a cocoon, just like the scent. Warm and soft and too much. You try to wiggle out from under the blankets but you can’t move, so instead you shuffle them off. Some of them hit the floor with soft plops, the others just barely hanging on the side of the bed, trapped under your body. You’re still stuck, still hot as you lay there, a comforting weight around you. The scent floods your nose, fills your body with a pleasant feeling as you lay there, breathing through your nose. Oranges, spices, warmth. 

Someone is baking a pie.

It smells good. You want to bury yourself in it, press yourself into that scent until it’s the only thing you can smell. It brings you a comfort you didn’t realize you were missing. Something fills your chest, a weight beginning to press down inside of you.

Your hair sticks to your face as you lay there, tempted to get up and see who is baking and why. There’s weight pressing down on you from the outside as well. You can’t move. You’re stuck. 

The weight around you moves. 

No, it’s not pie. 

It’s Johnny. 

That’s why you know the scent. That’s why it feels so familiar, so comforting. It’s Johnny. Johnny is pressed up against your back, his arm tossed over your waist. That’s why it’s so hot, his body putting off warmth like a heater. 

You should be angry at the breach of your clearly placed barriers. You should be upset that he would come in here and just climb in bed like this. You should be pissed that one of them would try something like this after your outburst yesterday. 

You shouldn’t be crying. 

Not out of relief. 

Oh how you missed this. 

Something begins to throb in your chest as you lay there, crying quietly in Johnny’s arms. Something begins to thrum deep within you, something you haven’t felt in weeks. Life? Hope? Happiness? 

You should be upset. 

You can’t be. 

Johnny grunts quietly behind you, his arm leaving your waist as he stretches. He’s awake now, or maybe he hadn’t been at all and had been waiting for some sign of life, some movement from you, something to try and give him a hint at what you must be feeling. He doesn’t say anything, laying still as you sniffle in the silence. No one else is up yet, despite the blue light of dawn coming in through the gap in the curtain. 

“Johnny?” You whisper, even the quiet sound hurting your sore throat. You’re thirsty, desperately so, but that’s a problem for later. 

“It’s me, kitten.” He says hesitantly, the pet name making a sob tear from your throat. 

“Johnny,” You cry, the tears falling in a cascade. You can’t stop them. You’ve lost complete control as you lay there sobbing. “Hold me.” 

He doesn’t say anything else, his arms wrapping around you and tugging you close against his chest. He locks you in his embrace, holding you tightly against his chest as you cry. It feels good. Life and energy flows through you again for the first time in weeks. That empty space in your chest begins to fill slowly, warmth blossoming in your body despite the sweat soaking you both. Johnny offers no complaints as he presses his face into your hair. 

How you missed this. 

How you need this. 

You seem more relaxed at dinner. Despite your angry outburst the day before, and your sudden illness, you look significantly less miserable than you did your first attempt at joining them for dinner. The yelling did a number on your throat, but even now it’s nothing compared to that first day. You’re having soup again, and this time there’s a side of mash and peas next to the bowl. 

You even walked to the table without the crutch. 

Simon sits beside you again, all of them taking their respective seats at the table. They’ve assigned themselves these seats, even when you don’t join them for a meal. You’re at the head of the table as you were the first time, Simon and Chrstine on either side of you. Kyle and Johnny are seated next to them, and John is across the table from you. You’ve been avoiding looking at him. You haven’t even so much as glanced up at him. 

Simon is watching you carefully out of the corner of his eye, trying not to make it obvious. If you’ve noticed, you haven’t shown any disapproval. He’s ready in case he has to act fast again, but you are far more steady than you were that first time. There’s no tremble to your hand as you bring the spoon up to your mouth. 

The others look happier than before too. Johnny has stopped crying. Not even a sniffle from him ever since this morning when he emerged from your room. None of them had said anything about it, though they have an inkling of what had happened, judging by Christine’s lack of reaction to it. Kyle looks happier too, sitting straighter like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. It probably has, with the lightening of the mood. Whatever happened with Johnny this morning, it’s made a huge change already.  

John has never been much of a religious man, but god bless Johnny for whatever magic he worked this morning. 

You don’t even look feverish as you sit there, spooning soup into your mouth. A lingering low-grade fever, Christine had informed them earlier that afternoon, but significantly less concerning than things had been yesterday.  

He’s glad to hear it. He’s always glad to hear Christine’s updates on how you’re doing, how well you’re healing, at least physically. The body heals easily. Mentally...there’s still a long way to go. Healing physically will help mentally, but with all the trauma, years and years of trauma, it’s going to take a long time to heal from that. 

The clink of your spoon in your bowl draws him from his thoughts and he glances up at you. 

“Getting full?” Christine asks as you take a sip of your water, wincing slightly as you swallow it. 

“Can I have some tea?” You ask. 

“Sure,” Christine says, going to push her chair back, but John is already standing.

“I’ll make some.” He says, not offering any room for argument as he turns his back on the table to head for the kettle. 

You’ve been drinking more tea lately, likely to soothe your throat. He never thought he’d see the day, given your determination to stand with Johnny on the side of coffee. It’s a bit late for coffee, but he does know it wouldn’t keep you awake in the slightest. You love your sleep, as most omegas do, and nothing will get in the way of it. Not even some late evening caffeine. 

He sets mugs out on a tray, deciding to make tea for everyone. At least that way it’ll make it seem less targeted at you. He’s not doing it to try and impress you or win your affections back. He just wants to help take the load off of Christine’s shoulders. She’s done so much for you, for all of them, already. 

He steeps the tea before bringing the mugs to the table along with some milk and sugar. He knows at least Simon and Kyle will drink some, and he will as well. He brings the kettle over, filling the mugs with tea. All of them sit there watching him, waiting tensely for what will happen next. Will you take the mug of tea he offers? Or will you refuse. Even if you threw it in his face, it wouldn’t make him mad. It would be horribly painful, yes, but he would deserve it. 

Perhaps him doing this was a mistake. 

He stares at the sugar and milk as he grabs one of the mugs. Do you like sugar or milk in your tea? He’s not sure. He doesn’t even know how you take your tea. He knows you like creamer in your coffee. But how do you take your tea? 

What a sad excuse of a human being he is. 

You don’t look at him as he sets the mug next to your water glass. You’re still eating your soup, your hand trembling just slightly now. Your scent is tainted still, a whiff of it filling his nose. Displeasure, a hint of burning anger. 

This was a mistake. 

He sets the milk and sugar next to you first, letting you finish making your tea. He won’t push that boundary and risk making it wrong. It would only add fuel to the fire, make it more obvious that he knows and cares so little for you. He doesn’t even know how you take your tea. 

He takes his seat again as the others help themselves to the tea, even Johnny taking a mug. Whether he’s doing it because he wants to make the moment feel less awkward, or because he genuinely wants some, John will never know. 

He made a mistake in doing that. 

Still, despite the awkwardness, it felt good to do that. 

Maybe that’s how they get closer to you. 

The little things, things that take some of the pressure off Christine. She has to be getting tired, going nonstop all day. Anything they can do to help, they should. Things seemed to go well with Johnny, so maybe the others can have some success in their attempts to gain your favor once more. 

John will have to stay away for now. Distance is what you need from him. 

That’s alright. He has other things he can do. 

He tries to hide the small grin on his face as you pick up the mug, taking a sip of the tea. 

They’re fighting. 

You stand at the back door watching them throw punches. They’re solid punches, nothing held back, no pulling them. They’re all breathing heavily, two of them watching the other two fight. 

Simon’s fist meets Kyle’s shoulder, Kyle’s fist going for Simon’s head but he’s too fast, ducking before he drives his shoulder into Kyle’s stomach. Kyle hits the grass, disappearing from your view. 

John steps forward, pulling Simon back and speaking to him, but you can’t hear from this distance. 

“Still out there?” Dr. Keller asks, stepping up beside you. 

“Yep.” You say, watching as Johnny takes Kyle’s place against Simon. 

“John did say it would be good for them.” Dr. Keller says, wincing as Johnny’s fist hits Simon’s ribs. 

“They’re gonna start a real fight.” You say, watching as Simon starts to get more aggressive. You can tell because you’ve been in that position before. You’ve seen when that switch starts to flip, when the alpha starts to take over. He was never this aggressive with you, but perhaps even his alpha could be rational given your obvious size and strength difference. 

And the fact you’re an omega. 

“Well, that’s their problem.” Dr. Keller says. “As long as they keep it out there.” 

“They might make you patch them up afterwards.” You say. 

She lets out a snort. “There’s ice packs in the freezer and a first aid kit in the bathroom.” 

You try to hide your smile as you watch John get in between Johnny and Simon, speaking to Simon again. Maybe it will be good for them to get some of that pent up energy out. They’re all used to being so active and always having something to do. Being stuck inside has to be driving them stir-crazy. Simon has been going on runs in the morning, and you know John has been going on walks every so often. 

You’re starting to feel a bit stir-crazy yourself. It’s taking you back to the days shut up in the barracks, unable to go anywhere or do anything, having to entertain yourself for hours while they were gone. At least there you had space and room to move around, even when you were being trailed, one of them constantly following you around. They might not be hovering quite as obviously here, but it still feels suffocating, like you can’t truly have a moment to yourself. 

“I want to go for a walk.” You say, shifting on your feet. The likelihood of you going very far is slim, at least right now. 

How far you’ve fallen from your running days. 

“I suppose you could go for a little walk.” Dr. Keller gives you a sideways glance. “Might be good to help get your strength back. I doubt they’d let us go without one of them, though.” 

“Probably not.” You agree, knowing they won’t even let you sit out on the porch without one of them watching. If you left the house without even telling one of them, all hell would break loose and you’d be condemned to your room once more. 

The thought makes you wince. 

You almost wish you could go out there and throw some punches at one of them. That might make you feel a bit better. Hell, line them all up and you’ll take turns beating the crap out of all of them. Maybe that might heal some of the anger and pain still stuck inside of you. 

That’s an idea for a different day, though. 

It’s oddly warm out today, or at least that’s what Ashley said. Soon the weather will turn, though, and the cold rain will come. Lots of rain. 

Your eyes flick between Ashley and Dr. Keller. The three of you are seated in a circle around a table outside, steaming mugs of tea in front of you. Neither of them are staring at you, instead focused on each other as Ashley speaks. 

Dr. Keller has a crush. 

It’s not hard to tell. Her eyes are focused on Ashley, a smile tugging at her lips. Her gaze only flicks to you when you shift and move in your seat before she’s staring at Ashley again. You can’t blame her. You can hardly bring yourself to look away from Ashely too. 

It makes you almost miss Kyle. 

They have the same soft brown eyes and the same bright smile. They’re both perfect, like they were chiseled out of marble and brought to life. They even laugh the same, a genuine chuckle coming right from the chest. 

It makes you want to laugh, even if you have no clue what was being said. 

How has Kyle been handling this? You’ve hardly paid him any mind. His connection to John puts him too close to the source of your anger and rage and pain. Johnny cries, Simon is a brick wall, John reeks of guilt and misery. Kyle...you don’t know. He’s been a blank spot, a hazy figure in the distance. 

It almost makes you feel bad. You’ve completely cut him off, isolated him. Has he cried? Has he been sulking? How miserable does he feel about everything? Does he feel guilty or miserable at all? He has to. They all do. 

Good. You think. They deserve it. 

“You do get stuck in your head, huh?” 

Your gaze snaps up, looking between Dr. Keller and Ashley. They’re both staring at you quietly, a small smile on Ashley’s face. You did get lost in your thoughts again, stuck in your ruminations as you usually do. Lately it hasn’t been a problem, as you’re alone or with Dr. Keller often. You’re supposed to be thinking and processing. It just happens at the worst times. 

Simon would hate it still. 

“Something specific on your mind?” Dr. Keller asks. 

You probably shouldn’t say anything. How would you explain how your mind went from Dr. Keller crushing on Ashley to hoping the guys feel guilty? You’re not even sure you should reveal that you know about Dr. Keller’s crush, especially if she hasn’t said anything yet. You don’t think she has. They’re not...close in the way a couple would be, a distance still between them. Does Ashley feel the same way? It’s hard to tell since you don’t know her quite as well yet. 

Maybe that can be your goal, besides healing. Something to focus on, something to distract from the constant emotions and pain. Get Ashley and Dr. Keller together. 

They’d be perfect for each other. 

“Not really.” You finally say, looking down at the book in your lap. You’re about halfway through it. It’s fine. Nothing to write home about. 

“What do you think of the book?” Ashley asks, sensing your end to that discussion. She doesn’t push. You like that about her. 

“It’s alright.” You shrug. “Kinda slow.” 

“They are spending a lot of time on character development.” Dr. Keller says. 

“We should keep a tally of how many times the phrase “his dark eyes” gets mentioned.” Ashley says, making you laugh. 

“It’s good to hear you laugh.” Dr. Keller says, smiling at you. 

“It...feels good to laugh again.” You say. “It’s nice to have something to laugh about.” 

“Well then I’m going to make that my mission.” Ashley says, taking a sip of her tea. “Get you to laugh as much as possible.” 

You don’t think you’ll mind that one bit.

The scream dies in your throat as you jolt awake in bed. The book that had been in your hands when you fell asleep drops to the floor with a quiet thud as you jerk up into a seated position. You’re breathing heavily, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as you try and calm your racing heart. It’s beating hard like it might beat right out of your chest. You’re shaking, your hands clutching at the baggy shirt you’re wearing like you’re trying to cling to some hope that it was all a dream, that you’re awake now and this is real life. 

Sweat beads on your forehead as you sit there, shaking in the darkness. You need someone. The shadows are closing in around you, your nightlight unable to keep them completely away. You need someone to fight them back. You need someone to reassure you that it was all just a dream, someone that can wipe the tears streaming down your cheeks and whisper softly to you that it’s all okay. That it’s all over. 

You need Kyle. 

Where is Kyle? How do you get to him without waking the others? You could go upstairs but what if they think you’re an intruder? You don’t even know which room Kyle is in. You wish you had a phone. You wish you could call him. You wish you could just telepathically reach out and tell him you need him and only him. 

You’ll wake them all anyway trying to find him. 

You suck a breath in, your hands still shaking as they cling to your shirt. You have to do it. It’s the only way to get them all down here, to get Kyle down here. 

You take a couple deep breaths before you scream. 

Within seconds the house is alive, footsteps racing across the living room towards your room as others thud from above. 

The overhead light stings your eyes, forcing them closed. It’s too bright, intrusive even with your eyes pinched closed. You can still see it behind your eyelids, harsh and too artificial. Just a price you have to pay to get what you need. 

Dr. Keller’s hands are soft as they peel your hands off your shirt, your fingers trembling with nothing to hold on to. They open and close, seeking out something to grip, something to give you an anchor to reality. You’re still panicking, your breaths shaky as you sit there, trembling in fear. 

“You’re alright,” She tries to soothe you, brushing your sweaty hair back. “It was just a dream.” 

You wish it was. 

“Kyle.” The name comes out as barely a whisper, stuttering out of your trembling lips. 

“What was that, sweetie?” Dr. Keller asks, leaning in closer. 

“Kyle.” You whisper louder now, the name shaky in the tense silence of the room. 

“Kyle,” Dr. Keller repeats, standing up straight. 

Quiet, hesitant footsteps approach the bed. Your eyes are still pinched closed against the harsh overhead light. You can’t bring yourself to be brave enough to open them, to face that harsh light. It might reveal the truth, that it was all just a dream, that this is still just a dream. 

It might not be Kyle approaching the bed at all.

You can’t know. You don’t want to know. You’re afraid to open your eyes. 

There’s a click as the lamp is turned on. You still can’t bring yourself to open your eyes. It’s supposed to be comforting, the soft light, but it could be used against you, giving you a false sense of hope and security. 

You flinch as the overhead light is turned off, still too afraid to open your eyes. Your hands have closed around the blanket pooled at your waist, gripping it so tightly your fingers are aching. It’s real. You’re touching it, you can feel the texture of it in your hands. It’s real. 

It’s real. 

Your breaths are shaky as you breathe in and out, trying to catch a scent. Any scent. Something to tell you that you’re really awake, that it really is Kyle standing next to the bed. 

“I’m here.” A soft voice says, something hovering in the air next to you. 

Kyle. 

You know that voice. You’d know it anywhere. 

You finally crack your eyes open, tears brimming as you turn your head to look up. Kyle is standing there awkwardly next to the bed, his hand raised as if he was reaching out to comfort you, but thought better of it. You’re glad he did. You might have spiraled into another panic if he’d touched you before you knew it was him. 

You stare at his hand for a moment before you peel one of your hands away from the blanket. Your hand is shaky as you lift it, reaching out towards his own trembling fingers. 

His fingers are warm and rough, just as you remember as they close around yours. You’re still shaking, a cold sweat forming on your skin as fear trickles down your spine. 

What if this is a dream? What if this isn’t real?

“I’m here.” He says, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles. 

You want to believe him. You really do. 

You pull his hand closer, pressing your cheek against it. His skin is warm against your cheek, and like Johnny, he makes no complaints about your sweat smearing on his skin. You’ve been that close to them before, sweat mixing together, slicking skin. How far things have fallen since then. 

Your tears drip onto his skin as you hold him there, just breathing him in for a moment. He smells like the sea, but with that soft, light scent underneath. You missed that scent, more than you realize you did. 

You let out a quiet sound as you rub your cheek against his hand, almost like you’re trying to embed his scent under your skin. 

He doesn’t say anything as you lean against his hand, tears still streaming down your face. The lamp is pushing some of the darkness away, but it’s not enough. It’s never enough. You can still feel the eyes from the dark corners of the room, the shadowy figures just out of view threatening to reach out and tear you away. 

A shudder runs down your spine, your fingers squeezing around Kyle’s in what has to be a painful grip. 

“I’m here.” He says again, pulling you from the dark thoughts plaguing your mind. He’d know if someone was here. He’d know if anything threatening was nearby. 

It’s his job. 

The job. 

The thing that’s kept you so separated from them, kept you at a distance. The thing that put your life in danger, that exposed them all as liars. The thing that’s left you an empty shell.

Maybe having him down here was a mistake. 

But the shadows...

You tug on his hand, pulling him closer to the bed. He sinks down on the edge carefully, still a bit hesitant. You don’t blame him. It’s not like you’ve been the most welcoming of them. For good reason. 

You need him right now. That need for safety and security far outweighs the conflicting emotions battling in your brain right now. 

“Stay.” You say, the word tumbling out from your trembling lips. 

“You’re sure?” He asks, his thumb still stroking your knuckles. You’re not sure if he even knows he’s doing it. 

You nod, tugging him closer as you scoot over in bed. He lets you guide him, laying on top of the covers.

You try not to think about it too much. 

It’s nice having him close. The shadows don’t seem quite as dark, the threats in them silent now that he’s here. He’ll keep you safe. He’ll protect you from the silent threats. That’s why you want him. That’s his role to play in all of this. They all have roles, they all have their places in the pack. They all have a part to play, not just for you but for each other. 

They’ve been struggling. 

They’re struggling because you’re struggling. 

The silence is loud as you lay there listening to the hum of electricity. You’re not quite sure what to say, how to break the silence. What is there to say that you haven’t already conveyed by your silence? What is there to say beyond what you’ve conveyed in your anger? They all heard your outburst, they all know the source of your anger and what they did to cause it. 

What’s left to say when you have nothing tying you together anymore except a claim and a half-broken bond? What is there to say when saying the wrong thing might fray that bond even more than it already has been? 

“I’m sorry.” Kyle says, finally breaking the tense silence. 

Of course he’d start with that. 

You let out a huff, turning on your side to face away from him. “I know you all are. You don’t have to keep saying it.” 

He lets out a sigh. He knows it. He’s not apologizing to you, for you. “Nothing can change what we did and we know that. We just...want you to know that we’ll do whatever it takes to help you and support you. We don’t want to push that boundary too far, but we’re all here if you need us.” 

You let out a hum. You already know that too. That’s why Johnny came so willingly, that’s why he stayed. That’s why they all tiptoe around you and stare at you like you’re a wild animal that may strike at any moment. 

Part of you wishes they wouldn’t. 

Part of you wants to go back to the way things were. Part of you wants to pretend that everything is normal again, that you love them and they love you just as much. You want to go back to that comfortable, seamless flow of one around the other, the way they all moved in sync, aware of each other without even needing to look. You want to insert yourself into that flow again and let them guide you along with them. You want to trust them blindly again and know they’d catch you if you fall. 

They proved they won’t though. They proved you can’t trust them to catch you. You’re on your own again, forced to catch yourself, forced to save yourself. You have to make that rope to catch yourself with. 

Yet, a deeper part of you yearns for that connection. Your omega screams for it, for your alpha, for your pack. You want them back with you, you want the bonds to heal and to be stronger than they were before. You want them to do as they said and prove to you that they’ve changed, that they're putting you first. 

The omega should be first. The omega should be the center. The omega should be the sun they gravitate towards, revolve around.

That’s what the book said. That book that’s sitting on your desk in the barracks. That book you read over and over, convincing yourself that it was true and they were a good pack like that book said. 

They’re not. 

We all make mistakes. 

They’ve never had an omega before. How are they supposed to know how to have an omega in their pack if they’ve never had one before? None of them came from big packs. John is the only one who’s ever even dated an omega before. They’re just as new at this as you are. 

You probably know more than them. 

You spent years learning how to be an omega in a pack. You read the books and wrote the essays and did the research. You read that book. 

Simon read that book too. 

Yet he did nothing. 

“Why did you want me?” Kyle asks softly, pulling you from your ruminations. 

You turn your head to look at him, staring into those soft brown eyes. Brown eyes you’ve missed. Tears trail down your cheeks as you stare at him, wetting the paths of the ones that had slowed to a stop in your rumination. 

Why did you want him and not Johnny? 

Johnny was the one that came for you, that comforted you, that got you through your fever. Johnny was the one you asked to hold you, to give you that support you’ve been so desperately clawing for. 

So why did you ask for Kyle?

You turn onto your back again so you’re laying side by side, your shoulder brushing his. He’s warm, and you just want to nuzzle into him and never let him go again. 

Another tear slides down your face as you stare at him, at that concerned look on his face. “I need you to tell me it’s going to be okay.” 

That concern morphs into understanding as he shifts slightly, reaching out for you. You let him, you let his thumb brush the tear sliding down your cheek away. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just staring at you as you lay there in the warm light of the lamp. The shadows don’t seem so close now, so threatening with him here. The things that lay in the darkness waiting for you to sleep so they can seep into your mind and stir up the horrible memories lying there in wait are at bay for now, fought off just simply by his existence in this room. 

His thumb continues to brush your cheek, your skin tingling along the path it follows. “It’s going to be okay.” He says softly, quietly. 

You’re not sure if he’s convincing you of that or himself, or perhaps both. You don’t know what he’s feeling, what he’s been feeling. You’ve been ignoring him, pushing him away out of fear that if you looked too closely, you’d break down. That bond will never break between the two of you, held tight with steel simply because of that claim your alpha and his alpha has on the both of you. No matter how much you hate John, that bond can’t be broken. It can’t be cut. It can’t go away. It can’t be denied. Not completely. 

A small smile tugs at Kyle’s lips, a reassuring smile. His words are stronger this time, spoken with more conviction and surety, like he’s speaking it into existence, manifesting it for the future when things perhaps can be different. 

When things are better. 

“It’s going to be okay.” He says, cupping your cheek, staring right into your eyes as he speaks. “We’re going to be okay.” 

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