#sure as fuck don't need this in my life though

[dwarf-vader-of-middle-earth]

What's more is, I'm not sure about anyone else, but my school started enforcing this in 6th grade. I mean enforce.

Beginning in the 6th grade, history class required us every Friday to bring in some news article of a current event, and we began our classes with each student presenting a summary of their event.

Our English class required us to write a periodical weekly on a current event.

Our science teacher required every student to bring in articles each week regarding scientific current events, whether about disease, discovery, developments, etc.

If there was a huge event happening, our teachers loaded the live stream on every classroom computer but kept it silent, just so we could watch as we learned.

And every teacher repeatedly told us, especially our history teacher, it was our responsibility as US citizens to keep up with the worldwide news. No exception. He forced it down our throats that we had to morally throw ourselves into the worldwide happenings daily and that we should all watch multiple news sources. Our English teacher did the same.

And for every single year following until graduation, it was enforced in our curriculum to keep up with worldwide news without any exception unless we wanted to fail and repeat the year since the majority of our grades relied on the homework which, again, was always based on current events.

That fucking term. "Current events". It sickens me. It's legitimately traumatic.

Because you know what happened to every single student in my school by junior year?

We were depressed as fuck without reprieve, unable to even focus in class with half the kids falling asleep at their desks, no one was happy, and literally all of us hated our lives. Many were admitted to mental hospitals for anxiety and depression issues, and it wasn't unusual to see someone gone for days or weeks at a time and for others to forget about them existing entirely because it's a very small school with less than 1,000 kids and you just let shit slide there. And that missing kid was always in a mental health crisis of some sort.

As an adult who's been out of school for 7 years now, I'm trying my damnedest to break the habit of burying myself in the news that my school enforced.

I don't know what's going on at all anymore. I don't pay attention because I need to focus on myself, my health physically and mentally, I need to take care of my sick mother and my father who is getting a hip replacement next month, I have to work and pay off my car repair, I have a life to fucking live.

And that life is not obligated to impart itself entirely unto the worldly events that drain my will to live and cause nothing but depression, despair, and immense sorrow.

People have called me selfish for this. They've called me careless and ignorant, said I'm looking at the world through rose colored lenses.

But you know what isn't selfish? Helping my homeless friend by cooking her meals and offering a place to stay. Translating Spanish to English at the store for customers and workers who don't understand each other even though I don't work there I'm just shopping. Standing by my best friend whose dog just passed tragically from cancer this week. Helping my neighbors clean the fallen branches in their yards because they're elderly and can't do that. Stopping when I see a car broken down to ask if they need a cable jump or tools for repair.

The point is there are countless other ways to be morally and ethically good that aren't dependent on burnout and enthralling yourself in world news. There are ways to help that don't require money and donations, too. I'm disabled on very limited income, and I still do my part without being able to donate.

Give your neighbor a hand. Help that stranger with their car. Give some food to the homeless. Put your old books in the little free library. Be genuinely kind and understanding to folks you come across whether daily or just once in a lifetime. Donate clothes you dislike or no longer wear to the local foundations and drives.

But for fucks sake, stop burning yourselves to the point you're melted wax in the glass jar with no wick to reignite you.

the social norm of “its your ethical responsibility to be constantly aware of, and angry about, every bad thing happening in the world at all times, even if you can’t possibly do anything about it” is possibly the best way I can imagine to create burnout and cynicism and depression in a population, so good job guys

[alastorthirsty]

Alastor Hands You the Aux Cord - Alastor x f!reader

Anon asked for: Hello! Love ur work :) Alastor x f!reader fluff & heavy smut inspired by the song “soaked” by shy smith???

Honey, you got a lot more than you bargained for, and even then I¨m not quite sure that I did it correctly. Alas! I hope you enjoy it either way. So sorry this took so long, it was an undertaking.

Summary: I suck at these so just be patient and kind. Reader was a radio/sound engineer in life and begins to work with Alastor rather closely.

Dividers by @konatasoup

Warnings: Listen, we all know Alastor is a Bad Man(tm). In this story and many, many others, Fucked Up Alastor is going to say Fucked Up Things. Alastor is a sentient red flag. I would like to kindly remind you that you need to carefully decide whether or not that's too much for you before you begin to read. I'd hate it if you read and got triggered by some possessive or otherwise red flag dialogue/prose! If it’s not for you you can simply block me and avoid my other fanfiction. You're responsible for your own reading experience! If smut is not for you, this is not for you. Other warnings include briskets, sandwiches, p in v intercourse, I don't know, standard fare, Alastor is a deeply jealous and possessive man, colleagues to lovers, Alastor’s fluffy, fluffy ears are an erogenous zone I don’t care lalalalala

Words: 9521

Tell me if you want to be added to the tag list! Requests are open and the guidelines are in my pinned post! I

It would be VERY helpful for your reading experience if you listen to the provided music! If the response is good there will be a part two :)

SMUT

Masterlist

It was the sensible thing to do, and took surprisingly little effort to get him to agree. All you said was that radio lived on in your lifespan, nearly one hundred years after his death. You asked if, in life, he would have happily adjusted to innovations in radio technology, and you remember the way he looked down at his claws, all tightened into fists that slowly unfurled. He begrudgingly admitted that he would have.

“That type of microphone you’ve got there wasn’t invented until after you died,” you pointed out.

Radio had been your life’s passion in the living world just as it had been for Alastor. You began in university as a DJ, then changed your major to reflect your newfound love. You started off with communications engineering in undergraduate studies and moved on to wireless communications engineering. Twelve years of your life, you had dedicated to radio.

You were the perfect candidate, and best of all you could make yourself obsolete by teaching him what he needed to know, so it was a win all-around. Kinda. It remains to be seen what he would do with you once you became obsolete.

You did, however, strike up a friendship. Alastor would admit readily that you were a good sound engineer and constantly upgraded his equipment. He would also admit, not quite as readily, that speaking to you was pleasant. You never batted an eye while he ripped apart souls, which he found surprising at first, but when you pulled out a sandwich to eat whilst he did so it elevated to…cute. He typically hates things that are cute.

Okay, fine, you’re cute.

As time passed, you grew more comfortable with each other. Sometimes you even offer him pre-soul breaking sandwiches, and Alastor eats them simply because they were offered by you. He has no idea what a “PB&J” is, only that whoever created it must surely be living amongst you all in hell. He always eats them, though. Every last morsel.

Then something quite remarkable happened. Alastor sat you down after an unusually long broadcast, took the pistachios that you offered him, and gave you the best gift you had ever received.

“Only one,” he said, poking your chest several times. “One song of your choosing at the end of my broadcast. Do you understand?”

You remember nodding so hard it almost hurt.

You had tried not to seem too enthused, so as not to betray your true excitement to your finicky friend, but shouted joyfully into a pillow when you got to your hotel room. You rolled all over your bed, still screaming into the pillow, and spent the rest of the night curating various playlists for the post-show tunes.

The two of you became inseparable. When you weren’t on air, you were still working together on scripts, advertising campaigns, marketing strategies, even merchandising, a pencil stuck through your hair, sandwich wrappers discarded haphazardly.

‘I got my soul ripped apart by the Radio Demon and all I got was this fucking shirt’.

You’re more excited about this than him by far, but it was becoming harder and harder to deny you a thing. He’s always criticised Vox’s use of petty merchandise to belittle him, but this was different. Entirely.

It had been a rather destructive day in the radio tower the first time you played a song. There were three soul rendings today, so everything but you was covered in blood and viscera. Alastor, with a small smile, offered you his staff, and explained all you had to do was play a song on your phone while holding it.

It felt special. It almost made your cheeks warm, but that crisis was thankfully averted and you chose a tribute to radio itself as your first ever post-show track.

‘Radio, someone still loves you.’

Alastor didn’t look particularly happy with what he’d heard, but he did give you an amused little pat on the head before taking his staff and leaving the radio tower, still covered in blood.

You remember all of that fondly and take a bite of your sandwich. Alastor takes one bite of his and goes feral.

“Calm down over there,” you chastise. “It’s just pastrami.”

He swallows. “You know my feelings about brisket, darling.”

“Well, I’ll bring you more pastrami in the future, then. Maybe I’ll even make you a brisket someday.”

“Yes, you should,” he almost snaps. “And I’ll have no more ‘peanut butter’, by the way.”

“Do you like the almond butter better?” you ask, offering him another sandwich from the basket you brought with you

“…I prefer the pistachio and cashew one.”

“Okay, I’ll find more of that,” you say before passing him a napkin. You sigh and grab the clipboard set to the wayside. “No souls today.”

“Yes, I am aware,” he says.

“Isn’t that less fun for you?”

Alastor ponders over his answer for a moment. “It is more fun to murder. However, not having one or more to murder also means that no one has challenged or crossed me. That is better in the long run.”

“I can see that logic.” You nod, then go back to the clipboard. “Oh, I can’t be here on Saturday.”

His expression sours and his eyes narrow. “And why is that, darling?”

You smile at him, arms up. “I’m going to Lu Lu World!”

“What in the world is that, darling? Wait a moment.” His eyes narrow anymore. “It has nothing to do with that circus freak does it?”

You purse your lips and tilt your head, staring at him. “You’ve lost me.”

“The hell I have. I find it absolutely unacceptable that you would leave work behind in order to prance around in an amusement park.”

“I don’t plan on prancing, so we’re good,” you say. You wrinkle your nose and chuckle a little at his steadily souring expression. “Tell you what. I’ll make you that brisket.”

“Two briskets,” he’s quick to demand. “No, three. Three briskets, and I’m not sharing with the others like you made me do on Beignet Day.”

“That was never meant to be just for your enjoyment!”

“Well, it should have been!” he snaps.

You laugh again and fold your hands over the clipboard. “I will miss work on Saturday to be escorted around Lu Lu World by its namesake and you will receive three briskets at a time of your choosing. You’re in for a treat, I make the best brisket. My husband loved it.”

A pregnant silence fills the radio tower.

“I find it equally unacceptable for you to have a husband. No, no more of that,” he says finally.

“I’d like to think I’ll find love again someday!” you say, laughing.

He huffs. “Is it a date?”

“Is what a date?”

Alastor rolls his eyes. “Your petty little outing to the amusement park with the circus freak!”

“He’s the King of Hell, not a circus freak!” you exclaim.

“If he doesn’t want to be called a circus freak he should dress like an adult male,” he says.

At that, you sit up straight, arms folded, and stare at him. “Do you really want to go there? Making fun of how he dresses?”

“My manner of dress is unimpeachable! Everything is just so!” Alastor gestures at his suit, then narrows his eyes again. “You will not marry him.”

“Marriage isn’t on the table, I’m just visiting his park with him. It’s closed for the day, no one but us! Oh, but also you can’t tell me who I can and can’t marry,” you say.

“There will be no marriages at all! We have work to do, important work!” He closes his eyes, touches his forehead, and growls. “Do not sass me.”

You take another bite out of your sandwich. “So I won’t be here Saturday.”

“…Fine. I can go back to the Stone Age for one damn day.”

You groan. “I’m glad no one else knows of your flair for the dramatic.”

“And you’d do well to keep it that way,” he says. He holds up three fingers. “Three briskets. I want them all at once.”

“I don’t have the time to do them today, as you said, we have important-ish work to do,” you say.

He eyes you again. “Three. Briskets.”

You throw your hands up. “Fine! I hope you get a tummy ache!”

“I will not! I will enjoy the briskets and be fine!” Alastor adjusts his butterfly tie and stands up from his chair. “And you will make up for lost time from your Saturday outing.”

“No I won’t,” you say. “I’m under no such obligation to work every single day with no breaks. I just haven’t had anything better to do in a while.”

Alastor’s hand smacks against a panel. “No! You’re to work with me every day, that is the arrangement! Good god, woman, you are so insolent today. All of hell listens to these broadcasts. I do not know how to do what you do. You have made yourself necessary and now you want to cut and run so you can have intercourse with that circus freak in a hall of mirrors.”

You tilt your head back and laugh.

He looks unamused by this. “What? What is it? Why are you laughing?”

“I suppose I’d better fuck him in the hall of mirrors, then, if you think the opportunity presents itself.” You wipe your mouth with a napkin and put everything else in the garbage for Niffty to collect.

Alastor’s ears flatten. “I do not like you today.”

“Nah, you adore me.” You look closer at the agenda for today and begin warming up the necessary equipment. You pull on your headphones “Thirty seconds, Al.”

He nods and repeats it back to you. “Thirty seconds, Al.”

By the end of the show, you’ve already got your topical track selection queued up. Alastor stands up and stretches before giving the staff to you and rifling around for more sandwiches in the basket.

‘They come running just as fast as they can ‘cause every girl crazy bout a sharp-dressed man’

You lip sync along, not realising you’re being watched. Alastor smiles to himself and waits for his staff to be given back to him. When it is, he almost remarks about your Saturday outing. Almost.

In your bedroom, you stretch and yawn. It’s late and you need to be with Alastor relatively early, so you go about your nightly routine. Brushed teeth, silky pyjamas, all lotioned up, feeling amazing. That is, until you walk back to the area with the bed. You scream and jump, but your surprise is quickly replaced by anger. Alastor laughs from his comfy position against your pillows.

He points at you. “You are the chicken in this relationship.”

You get in beside him and try to shove him out of the bed, chuckling as he easily resisted. “What are you doing in here?”

He’s still laughing. “I came to collect you! Emergency broadcast.”

You groan loudly. “Absolutely fucking not!”

“Yes!” He wraps an arm around you and drags you up from the bed. “It won’t take too long.”

“Who the hell pissed you off this much that you have to do this right now, at two in the morning?” you asked.

The answer makes your stomach drop.

“Husker!” he says excitedly.

You flail. “No. No! No, Alastor, you can’t do that!”

“I assure you that I can,” he says, now picking you up and carrying you towards the radio tower. “Husker’s soul is mine to do what I want with it, and he knew that before he started making trouble tonight.”

“Alastor!” you shout. “Put me down!”

He looks confused, but carefully sets you down. There are tears on your face that confound him. “What is the matter, my dear?”

“You can’t kill Husk.” You wipe your eyes and sniffle. “You can’t. I know you can in the literal sense of the word. I know that you can, but you can’t, please, I am begging you not to do this. Please, Alastor.”

“Do not mourn for him,” Alastor says. “No one mourned him in life.”

“I think that’s not true,” you say, but take his hands, squeezing them. “Just, just tell me what he did. I’ll fix it. I swear, I’ll fix it.”

Alastor looks down at your hands, so much smaller than his, trying to calm him down. “You really care, hm?”

“Alastor, please, please,” you whisper, squeezing his hands again. “Alastor, don’t do it. I have never asked you for a thing and I never will again if you just please don’t do this. Please don’t kill him, he’s my friend. He’s a soul in the bank for you, but he’s my friend.”

He’s quiet for a very long time, watching your breakdown. You know how it looks. He hates weakness, he hates vulnerability—

Alastor puts his hand on the side of your face and pushes hair away. “Okay, darling. If you want Husker to keep dusting bottles and consuming their entire contents, then that you shall have.”

You feel embarrassed all of a sudden and wipe your eyes. “How about I make you a brisket instead?”

“No brisket is required,” he says. “If you want it then you will have it. I am a man of my word. I will find other means to discipline Husker.”

“Don’t hurt Angel,” you say immediately. “Please. They’re all afraid of you already, you don’t have to do anything to keep them in line. I don’t know what Husk did, but I don’t believe it warrants his death and it definitely doesn’t mean you can do something bad to the only thing he loves more than booze or gambling.”

“Okay,” Alastor agrees.

You blink. “I know it’s not that simple. What do you want?”

“Have I ever given you a reason not to trust me?” he asks.

“Me? Personally?” You think for a moment before shaking your head. “No. But—“

“I’ve never given you a reason to doubt me,” Alastor says. “I have worked with you closely for months now. I do what I say I will do. If you want that damned cat and his spider to live and be unharmed then I will give you that.”

“What do you want in exchange? Don’t say my soul, I’m not giving it.”

“No, not your soul,” he says. “A simple deal.”

You stand up straighter. “A deal? What?”

“I let Husker and the spider go unharmed and you will in exchange never have intercourse with the circus freak.”

Your arms cross. “Alastor, that’s fucked up.”

“I know!” he says warmly.

After a moment, you reach your hand out towards him. He takes it in his and squeezes it, gentle and warm. You’ve seen his power, the green flashes of light.

But there are no green lights. His tentacles remain hidden. The floor doesn’t shake.

It wasn’t a real deal, but you said nothing about that. This was all very strange, and you didn’t know what to make of it. Taking his hand, you give it a pull.

“Come on,” you say. “Let’s go on air anyway. Come.”

He tuts at you. “Rather bossy tonight, my dear.”

“I’ll make sandwiches,” you offer, and he nods.

“Yes, you will make sandwiches—pastrami.”

‘I am just living to be lying by your side but I'm just about a moonlight mile on down the road’

Once Alastor takes the staff from you, he notices that you’ve fallen asleep in your chair. He rides the dark with you in his arms, depositing you safely into your bed.

The next night, for some reason, Husk makes sure your dirty martinis come with two olives and no complaints.

“You will go away from the hotel.”

You look up from your phone, your feet up on one of the panels you’ve been working on. “Excuse me?”

Alastor is stern, serious. His eyes betray no laughter, not a single joke. “You will leave the hotel.”

“No,” you say immediately.

“The Extermination is exactly one week from now, and you will leave the hotel. You will go someplace safe.”

“No,” you say again. “No, hell no, I’m not leaving you all by yourselves.”

“You would be more of a hindrance than help,” Alastor says, and ooph, that one hurt.

“You don’t even know how to defend yourself,” he continues.

“I’ve been doing my best,” you say.

“And that is not good enough, darling.”

Your chest falls and rises. “So you think I have nothing to offer to protect my friends and this hotel?”

Alastor pauses for a moment. “No. I know for a fact that you do.”

“Then what?” you ask. “Why do you want me to leave?”

Again, a few moments pass in silence before Alastor sits beside you. “You would trade something very precious to save this hotel and all of the fools who reside in it.”

”What? What is it? What am I going to give up that’s so special?”

“Your life,” he says. “If you are here, you will sacrifice your life in a trice just as soon as you see someone else is in danger. And I cannot have that. You will leave, this is not a request.”

Your eyes widen and you shake your head. “No. This is my home. This is where I work. This is my family—“

“You will listen to me now and you will listen good,” he says gravely. “I can protect this hotel and kill Adam or I can protect you. Those are the choices. I trust you will not make the selfish one.”

You close your eyes and let out a deep breath. You feel a cry coming on, but head it off at the pass. “What about you?”

“What about me, darling?” Alastor asks. “There is no way for you to help me. You know that.”

“I’m going to look like a coward,” you say.

“I do not care,” he says. “And you shouldn’t either. My priorities are to kill Adam and to protect you. Therefore, you will leave to someplace safe and you will wait for me to come for you.”

You scoff. “Where’s safe? Where’s safe during an Extermination?”

“They are coming to the hotel first and we will not allow them to go any further. You will be safe where I send you and you will stay there.”

Then he does something he’s never done before. Alastor pulls you into his embrace. “You have no idea what I would do to save you. No idea, you stupid, silly girl. You must go. You must.”

“Okay, okay,” you say finally.

“I could give or take almost anyone else in this boring little hovel of a hotel, but I can’t give you. I won’t. It’s very likely this radio tower will need some manner of repair. Who else would do it but you?” He holds you a little tighter.

You close your eyes and lean against him. “I really don’t want to leave you.”

“Because you are an idiot.”

At that, you start hitting him anywhere you can, but the two of you dissolve into laughter.

Eventually, you sigh. “When am I leaving?”

Alastor hums. “Tonight.”

“What?” you look at him again. “Why tonight?”

“I will have time to prepare. I won’t spend days worrying about getting you to leave. It is better that I have this time to focus,” he says. “I will take care of everything. Think of it as more of a vacation than anything else.”

“I won’t, but thank you,” you say. “What will you tell everyone?”

Alastor tilts his head. “About what?”

“About forcing me to leave the hotel because I’m apparently too weak and stupid to fight for it,” you say.

He tsks and shakes his head. “I do not care. Neither should you. But I suppose I will just tell them approximately one-quarter of the truth.”

“Which is what?” you ask.

“That I put my foot down and wouldn’t allow you to die for any of them.” Alastor rubs his face against yours. A confusing gesture, but not altogether out of place, given the tenor of the rest of the interaction.

“I don’t want to die, but—“

“But nothing,” he says. He gives you his staff. “Play one last song.”

You wince. “Okay, grim. No. I’m not playing a ‘last song’.”

He huffs. “The last song until next week, when all of this is over.”

“When all of this is over…” You lean back in your seat, tapping the staff as you think. “Can you…can we hop on the broadcast? For a while? Make it my last proper show until all of this is over?”

You swallow, your throat feeling tight.

“No, darling,” he says. “Not this time. Pick a good song.”

‘Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me! Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me! Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me! Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me!’

Alastor stares at you strangely throughout the entire song. He never once tries to take the staff away from you, not even during the repeated profanity—something that was forbidden. He says nothing of it when the song is done and he takes his staff back into his possession.

“Come.” He holds his arm out for you and you take it. You let him lead you out of the radio tower and you become unsettled as you descend the steps.

“Alastor, I don’t like this,” you say nervously.

“And neither do I,” he says as he guides you to your hotel room.

“Where are you sending me?”

He suddenly stops you once you’re inside the room, his clawed hand coming down to grip your shoulder. Hard.

“Alastor,” you chastise.

His grip only tightens. “I made a bargain for this and you will not piss it away.”

The night crashes down on you in the quiet of your bedroom.

“But where? You made a deal?”

“No, not a deal. More of a…trade which does not benefit me at all, save for it keeping you safe.”

“Alastor, where?” you ask, softly yet firmly.

“In an underground bunker beneath Rosie’s Emporium,” Alastor says finally. “No one would ever think to look there, not with all of Cannibal Town at the hotel, stupidly giving their own lives. Those lives mean nothing to me, nothing at all, but yours is something precious.”

“I’m just your engineer, you know.”

Alastor huffs. “No, you’re not.”

You lift a brow. “I’m not?”

“No.” He pauses. “You also make sandwiches.”

With a little laugh, you nod. “Pastrami.”

“Indeed. Pastrami. Now, pack up, darling. I’ll escort you to Cannibal Town. No, no one will try to eat you. You’ll be with my dearest friend, Rosie. You will be safe with her. If I had any doubts I would send you elsewhere.”

“Okay,” you say softly. “It’s going to be boring without you.”

“I, on the other hand, will finally know peace after six months.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up.”

“Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me.”

You laugh far too hard for it to be so late at night, but Alastor is smiling genuinely.

For a tenth of a second something changes. The way you look at each other…

“So,” he says, sitting at the foot of your bed, one ankle over his knee. “Have you been abiding by our agreement?”

You pull a suitcase from underneath the bed. “Which one? There are new ‘agreements’ every day.”

“Intercourse with Lucifer,” he says flatly.

“Oh Alastor, come on. What if he and I were in love?”

He just glares at you, darkness in his eyes.

“I haven’t seen the man in weeks!”

“Aha!” He points at you. “You would do it if given the chance, wouldn’t you?”

You tilt your head. “Why do you care so much, Al?”

“Because I want to separate him from all possible joy,” he says. “There’s no chance of doing that with Charlie, but I will deny him you.”

“You’re so fucking weird.”

“Shut up and pack.”

“Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me.”

Alastor picks up one of your pillows and throws it at you.

The extended visit with Rosie would be nice if every moment didn’t bring you anxiety so crippling that it cramped your stomach. She was kind, a gracious hostess, and she didn’t ask any prying questions, so neither did you. You were curious about the ‘trade’ Alastor had made for you—for you…

You leave every day for food, because you just cannot trust the provenance of anything in Cannibal Town, no matter how kind Rosie is. You listen to Alastor’s sporadic broadcasts and feel vindicated in how shitty it is without you. Gives you a smile. It sustains you to know that this man still needs you.

On your third day of going out for burritos, you receive a text message that makes you grin, fills you with joy you haven’t felt since you were yeeted from the hotel.

‘New ducks, want to see?’

The second you text back yes, a glowing portal opens and a hand yanks you inside.

“Lucifer!” you cry out happily, hugging him close.

He returns the embrace readily, arms tight around you. “I’m so glad you agreed! Here, let me show you the duck workshop.”

You smile and let him guide you. You and Lucifer just..mesh. It’s always been easier to talk to him than virtually anyone else. For as much as you listen to him about ducks, he listens to you about radio, as long as you don’t mention Alastor. That’s always been an unspoken understanding.

Lucifer rambles happily all the way to the workshop and you happily listen. Once inside, he gives you a little tour. The place is quite literally filled with rubber ducks of all different kinds—there was even a set of KISS ducks.

“This is my latest work,” Lucifer says, showing you a row of little ducks. He picks up one. “This one has wings just like mine! Well, you can’t currently see my wings, but that’s what they look like. There’s six, they’re red, that’s…pretty much it…”

He sounds strangely nervous.

“And this one’s Charlie…”

Yes, nervous.

“Maggie,” he says.

“Actually, her name is Vaggie,” you correct him.

“Oh, golly!” He covers his eyes with his hands, his face turning red. “I’ve been calling her Maggie every time and Charlie never corrected me.”

You chuckle softly. “It’s fine, I’m sure it’s fine. Don’t worry about that.”

He peeks at you from between his fingers. “You really think it’s okay?”

“Charlie probably just felt too awkward to correct you. You know how she is.”

“I hope so,” Lucifer says. “This one is the porn star. He shoots webs!”

You laugh when he demonstrates. “That’s so cool!”

“And this one,” he picks up one of the ducks gingerly, “this one is you!”

You gasp at the attention to detail and laugh joyfully. “That’s so cute, a little me!”

“She has a little radio and everything. And—“ Lucifer presses a button on the underside of the duck and the radio starts to play from its mouth. He looks at you with a wide grin and elbows you gently a few times. “Ah? Ah?”

You laugh again and clap. “Bravo, you outdid yourself. I never thought you would outdo the back-flipping rubber ducky that spits fire.”

“I surprise myself all the time,” Lucifer says happily, placing your duck back down beside his. “Do you have time for a drink?”

You laugh. “Honey, I’ve got nothing but time.”

“Good!” He takes your hand and guides you out of the workshop and through the halls until you arrive at a lavish lounge. He gestures for you to take a seat. “What’ll you have?”

“Oh, whatever you’re having, please.”

Lucifer pours two whiskeys and sits in the chair across from yours beside a fire that emits a cool breeze.

“Thank you so much,” you say when he hands yours to you.

“It’s nothing,” he says. “Charlie told me…you left the hotel.”

You take a deep breath. “Yes, I did. I’ve been staying in Cannibal Town.”

“Why did you go?” he asks softly.

Now you sigh, hoping to keep all emotion from your voice. “Alastor thinks I’m more of a hindrance than a help and wants me to stay away.”

His diamond pupils constrict. “What an asshole.”

“He needs me to help repair the radio tower, when all is said and done.”

“You’re too good for this, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

Lucifer takes a drink. “I mean you’re too good to work on a show that’s just screams and crappy puns. That guy is a clown. You should host your own show.”

“Oh, I haven’t been on air in like…fourteen years. I don’t even know what I would talk about or play. I like being an engineer. It’s cathartic to me. Alastor might not have the most exciting show around, and he’s absolutely horrible, but it’s…hm, I’ve made it sound really bad, haven’t I?”

“Why do you give that guy your loyalty? Why do you feel so beholden to him?” he asks.

Your focus softens. “I…we have a good time together. I think. He likes the sandwiches that I make him.”

“I can almost guarantee that this loyalty means nothing to him,” Lucifer says. “I’m not saying that to hurt you.”

You sigh. “Yeah, I know Luci.”

“Why do you stay, then? Is he paying you?”

“Actually yeah, in a way he does.”

Lucifer cocks a brow and motions for you to continue.

“Oh, he just gives me things, not money. He doesn’t, uh, properly believe that hell should have a currency system. In his opinion it should all be bartering, like soul deals. Therefore, he barters with me. I give him sandwiches and briskets and engineering services, he gives me…just about anything. Last week he gave me a ruby necklace that must be worth a few thousand dollars.”

“You give him briskets?”

You nod. “Oh yeah, there’s always some brisket action going on. He doesn’t know it yet, but there’s a venison brisket in the works.”

“So you work together, you make him food, he gives you expensive jewellery?”

“Other things too, but yes.” You nod again. “That’s the gist. We have a good back-and-forth, but my favourite is getting to play music at the end of his broadcasts.”

Lucifer smiles softly at you. “Those are the only parts worth tuning in for.”

Your face lights up., a big grin and bright eyes. “You’ve heard?”

He nods. “Yeah. I try to catch it. The last one said fuck a lot.”

You laugh, head back against the chair. “Yeah, it did.”

“I’ll give you a radio station of your own. Be his competition,” he said.

Now you sigh. “I actually do like to work with him a lot. He’s…he’s not all bad. He’s always done right by me.”

Lucifer scoffs. “That won’t last. You can’t seriously rely on that to stay stable. Just as soon as he decides he doesn’t need you, he’ll get rid of you. Somehow or another. He’s just…one of the worst sorts of sinners, and he’s proud to be the way that he is. And you? You’re hardly like a sinner at all. I always seem to forget it.”

It’s hard to hear those things about Alastor, even harder because you know they’re probably in some way true.

You’re lost in thought until you hear him repeating your name. “Oh! So sorry, million miles away.”

“Let me get you another drink. Do you want something other than whiskey, maybe?” he asks, sounding somewhat insecure, a little tremor in his voice. “W-what do you normally take?”

You play with a rubber duck on the table and hope it doesn’t spit fire at you. “Dirty martini, two olives. Sounds weird, giving the king of hell a drink order.”

“Nonsense!” Lucifer comes over with a little drink tray, all cheerful. Sweet. He looks so happy that it warms you.

“I should see you more,” you say. “You’re fun to be around and I love ducks.”

He gives a nervous laugh and sits down, passes your drink to you. “You should definitely see me more! Gosh, that would be terrific. I can make you so many ducks!”

“What are you going to work on next?” you ask.

He winks. “I’ll keep you apprised.”

You wink back, smiling. “I’ll be waiting.”

God, there was nothing you wouldn’t give to be on air with Alastor right now. It hits you, causes a slight tremor in your body.

Lucifer gasps. “Are you okay? Is it the drink? I don’t actually know what a dirty martini is so I…May have poisoned you?”

“No! No!” You laugh and shake your head. “No, the drink is fine. To make a martini dirty you just put a bit of olive brine in.”

“Let me try again,” he says, but you stand and stop him.

“Luci, no, really, it’s okay,” you say. “Promise. See?” You drain the contents of the wine glass he had served the ‘martini’ in. Your lower eyelid gives you away, though.

“Oh God,” Lucifer says, hand covering his eyes.

You pull it away gently. “It’s okay, Luci.”

You stay that way, eyes on each other, for a moment that stretches indefinitely.

By the end of it, Lucifer kisses you. Hesitant, gentle. His hand reaches the back of your neck and by now you’re kissing back. Things are happening quickly. Somehow you wind up on one of the couches together, your back to the cushion, him on top of you…

Oh, no.

You break the kiss and sit up. “Sorry. Sorry, Luci. Sorry.”

“Did I do something wrong?” he asks in rushed voice, a slight shake to it.

“No.” You rub your eyes and smack your forehead.

All you could think of was Alastor. The little promise you made in exchange for Husk’s life. You doubted that he would actually kill Husk if he found out…but you couldn’t handle how…he would react.

“Lucifer, I…” But you couldn’t tell him that Alastor was the one keeping him from getting laid.

“I don’t understand,” Lucifer says. “I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you say softly, squeezing his hand. “I can’t help but notice you’re still wearing your ring.”

“Oh, is that why…? Oh, no, sweetheart, no, I just…Lilith isn’t going to come back to me. I can take it off, it’s just hard to when it’s been…such a long time, being married. I can take it off, sweetheart, don’t worry.”

You squeeze his hand again, gently. “It’s time for me to leave.”

“Oh…Okay,” he says softly. “Yes, of course. You don’t have to stay, just…I don’t want this to be the last time I see you.”

You smile at him, trying your best to instill confidence. “You’ll see me again. Show me to the door?”

“No, absolutely not,” he says. “It’s dangerous! I’ll take you back to Cannibal Town. That’s also…pretty dangerous, you know.”

“Not for me.” That you can say with confidence of your own.

“Come on.” Lucifer reaches for your hand. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to do it again. Just take my hand and I’ll bring you back. You don’t even know where you are right now.”

Well, he’s got you beat there. You squeeze his hand one more time. “Okay. Let’s go.”

You close your eyes for this part.

When you hear a whispered goodbye, you open your eyes and you’re standing before the Cannibal Town gates, alone.

“Do you think that you walk freely all throughout hell, not a care in the world, for no reason?”

Your whole body tightens at the sound of his voice. “Have you just been standing there waiting for me to show up?”

“Not quite,” Alastor says. “Answer my question.”

You sigh, eyes rolling hard. “I’m sure it’s because of you.”

“Correct! So you’re at least that smart.”

You trudge out a path set to finally get you the illusive burrito. “Alastor, I’m not in the mood. I’m hungry, I’m tired, and my absence is definitely noticed at the hotel.”

He appears in front of you. “And how do you know that? Who told you, hm?”

You sigh. “You know who I was with?”

Alastor’s claws grab your arm and then you’re in the radio tower. It nearly knocks the breath out of you and you collide with one of the panels.

“God!” You wince as your knee crashes against a sharp corner. “Hey asshole, I thought I wasn’t allowed to be here! I am so sick of being yanked around today! All I wanted—“

“I ask so little of you,” he interrupts.

Your jaw drops. “Are you serious? You? Ask me? For little?”

“The only commitment I have ever asked of you is not to have sex with that fucking man!”

“And I didn’t!” you shout before pulling out your phone. “Here, see? He just wanted to show me new rubber ducks that he made. And you know what? Mine was adorable, and she played radio when you pressed her button.”

“Am I supposed to understand this innuendo?” he asks, his voice rising.

“I didn’t sleep with him, Alastor! I don’t know what else you want me to say! I almost did, I would have, and it’s all your fucking fault that I didn’t. Someone expressed interest in me and I couldn’t act on it because I made some fake pact with you over it. I should have, God knows I need it.”

“Oh do you?” Alastor steps closer, but you don’t back down.

“Yes!” you yell. “Yes I do, but the only fucking thing I ever do is go on the goddamn radio with you!”

“Such a horrible fate!”

You cover your face with curling fingers. “Take me back to Rosie’s. Take me back to Rosie’s, Alastor. You don’t want me here, remember?”

“Of course I want you here, you fucking imbecile!”

Your anger ebbs slightly. “You do?”

“Yes! I want all of the things you do and I want them all the time! I tried to make my own sandwiches and everything! I was self-sufficient before you, you know. I never needed anyone for anything, then you walked into this hotel and insisted your way into my life, wrecking it up as you went!” Alastor takes a deep breath, trying to ground himself, trying to calm himself. “So now that I need you and go to great pains to keep you safe, you tell me that you want to sleep with that little blond gremlin?”

“How were the sandwiches?”

“Dry and uninteresting!” Alastor grabs you by your arms. “God damn you!”

“What? What?” you yell. “What do you want, Alastor? As far as I can tell, you got me out of the hotel, out of your way, right where you wanted me to be. I was going out for a fucking burrito because I can’t trust the food in Cannibal Town!”

“I advised Rosie very carefully about your dietary preferences,” he says.

“Well, hell, thanks,” you say in a much quieter tone. After a moment, you go sit in your usual spot. “Why did you bring me here, Alastor? My name must be mud around here.”

“No, it isn’t.” Alastor sits across from you. “They just blame me, and that is fine.”

“I really think you two should put all this behind you,” you say.

“The two of us? We won’t be putting anything behind us, darling.”

“Actually!” You point at him. “I was talking about you and him. The guy you call a circus freak, a blond gremlin.”

“Ha! No. Try again, dearest.”

You just roll your eyes and rub your temples. “I’m seriously so hungry and so tired. What do you want to hear?”

“I—.” Alastor cuts himself off. “You. And I…it’s your fault, all of this is your fault!”

“Okay! Fine! It’s my fault. Now what do you want to do?” you ask.

Alastor jerks you up from your seat and kisses you, hard. You feel his fingertips fan over the tops of your shoulders, drumming once before holding tight.

It’s so absolutely stunning that it takes a moment to respond at all, but that doesn’t seem to slow him down. Your heart beats so hard in your chest that you can almost hear it, and, oh, damn, this is what had been missing, fulfilling a craving that you had never known. This was what blood was for, what hands were for, why breath existed.

His hands move lower down your body as the quick seconds pass like butterflies all down your skin and to your bones.

You pull away just to catch a breath and his whole body tenses.

“What?” you ask, panting.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks.

You shake your head. “No, Al, not even a little bit. Just couldn’t breathe, blood’s all rushing.”

Alastor’s fingertips trail deliciously above your belly. “Do you know what I want?”

You swallow, lips pressing together. “Tell me.”

His thumb traces down your throat now. “I want to possess you so completely that you forget all but my name.”

His lips follow the path of his hands, surprisingly soft and warm against your neck. “Everything about you was made for me. Everything. I am never letting you go, do you understand me?” His tone was gravely serious, but with an undercurrent of…love. Yes, it was love, yearning and…maybe a bit of uncertainty. He could not hide that, not from you.

“Let’s go to my room,” you say quietly when he pulls away, and in an instant you’re there. Everything looks the same, thankfully. You go to the bed and sit at the foot of it, leaning back on your elbows.

Alastor comes and stands before you, just looking down, watching. When he finally moves, it’s to put both hands underneath your shirt and push it up, every bit of skin revealed covered in goosebumps. He slowly pushes the shirt up and up until your arms lift and it comes over your head.

“Why are you choosing to do this now?” you ask as he works on your bra.

“Because you said that you needed it and I take your needs very seriously,” he responds.

“Whoa.” You grab at my hands. “No, it’s not just me, you have to be into it too.”

Alastor laughs suddenly. “How about I show you how ‘into it’ I am? Kind of you to make certain, darling.”

“I don’t ever want to make you feel like you have to, because you’re…”

He plays with one of your exposed breasts thoughtfully. “You are kind for that, too. Perfect, really. Darling, I do whatever feels good, in all things that I do. This is good, I have simply never felt that way before you and your goddamn radio expertise and your fucking sandwiches and, oh, the briskets.”

Alastor sighs and moves on to the other one. “I have never wanted this before, and that is meaningful to me. It isn’t all I want, but I want you in all other ways so much that it makes me crave you. My hands on your body, your hands on mine. I’ve waited long enough to know that I am certain. Are you?”

“You are a discovery,” you say. “You unlocked things I didn’t realise were there. I want you badly.”

“It’s not just what the spider calls ‘general horniness’?”

You pull him down and kiss him several times before responding. “No, it isn’t. If it wasn’t specific to you, I could just as well bedded Luci. I had every opportunity earlier tonight. But I was always going to turn him down. I did so because I thought of how disappointed and angry you would have been.”

“You’re goddamn right I would have been,” he says as he climbs over you. “So perfect, just for me…”

You like the weight of him on top of you. He’s careful not to squish you, but it feels so warm and solid. There’s a shiver up your spine as he touches you, as this coat and shirt brush against your breasts. You go to card your fingers through his hair and accidentally brush against the base of one of his ears and you can see the physical reaction, the little tremors of pleasure, the moan of an ecstasy promised.

“Okay?” you ask gently, doing it again.

Alastor nods quickly. “Yes, don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.”

You played with his ear while his tongue, lips, and teeth made their way across your throat and neck. The higher you went, the more aggressive he got, leaving little nips and bites everywhere.

You push him when you decide more clothes have to come off—his in particular. He looks confused for a half-second before you’re carefully removing his coat. You place it carefully on a chair near the bed, but almost rip the shirt off of him.

He gives a little huff of laughter. “Eager, are we darling?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” you say, hauling him in to kiss him again.

You love the feeling of your bare chests pressed together. Alastor’s breathing starts to come more quickly than before.

It’s you going after his neck, this time. You can hear something strangled in his throat, the vibrations of it against your lips. “You don’t have to hide anything from me.”

“Forgive me, darling. I am new to this.”

“Is it the very first time?”

He hums. “Technically no. Once, when I was a teenager, a very long time ago. I barely remember it at all, but I know it was nothing like this.”

You smile against his neck and nuzzle softly. “Doesn’t matter, you’ll know what to do.”

“I have every confidence in us both. We know each other on a professional and emotional level of intimacy, I doubt physical intimacy will be the thing that does us in.”

“It may be a bit early days, but I hope nothing ever does,” you say.

He cradles the back of your head to keep your lips close to his neck. He huffs. “Early days, my ass. If I was not sure about you I would not have started anything. If any part of you is unsure, I will make it sure. I promise that I won’t be a regret.”

You kiss your way down the side of his neck. “Lucifer would have been a regret. You will not be.”

He huffs. “As gratifying as that is to hear, please do not mention the circus freak during physical intimacy ever again. Or ever again in general, if possible.”

You laugh softly and hold him close. “I’ll never mention him in this context ever again, I promise.”

“I am much obliged, my love.” Alastor tugs at the jeans you’re wearing, but, having no experience with such garments, he doesn’t seem to realise they have to be unzipped first.

You reach between your bodies to help him out.

“Such complicated garments,” he says beneath his breath.

“No more complicated than yours! Your trousers unzip too, don’t they?” you ask.

“It is called a double standard, darling, and as per usual, unfortunately for you, it works out in my favour.” Alastor gets you down to your underwear and plays with the elastic waistband. “I would like to make something abundantly clear to you, darling. I will give you this one last chance.”

“For what?” you ask, kissing down his neck, the tip of his ear between your fingers. You feel it twitch.

“No, no, stop that for a moment, darling,” he says, so you do. When you’ve stopped and he’s got you looking at him again, he continues. “For just a moment, while you listen to this. I am telling you right now that you are reaching the point of no return. Once I have taken you, you will belong to me for eternity. That is not a hyperbole, it is reality. I will never allow you to leave me. Along with that promise, I promise to keep you safe, always, just as I am now, even if it means temporarily being away from me. I promise to love you. I promise you will want for nothing; everything that is in my power to give you, which is exhaustive and far-reaching, any little want or need you have, I will give it to you.”

You smile at him. “I don’t have as much to offer, but I’ll be the best damn radio engineer, the best damn brisket-maker, the best damn friend, and the best damn…”

“Mate,” he supplies.

“The best damn mate, I’ll be that,” you promise.

“You accept?” Alastor asks, and when you nod, he kisses you hard. “You are perfect. So good. And you understand? Completely? You have no doubts? Because there will be no other appropriate time to feel them. This is a permanent arrangement that you should not take lightly.”

“Trying to talk me out of it?”

“Trying not to be a regret,” he says, and it makes your expression warm.

“You aren’t and you won’t be,” you promise. “You were the answer to all the questions I didn’t know I was asking of myself from the moment I met you. I didn’t know, but it was always there, and now, like…I don’t know how to describe it. There’s not a lot of blood flowing to my brain, you know.”

He chuckles once and nods. “Then I will not ask you again. It is settled now, is it?”

“It is.”

“Good.” Alastor hooks his thumb into the elastic of your underwear indelicately and pulls them down and off your body.

You don’t even know how many naked people Alastor has seen. It’s possible he hasn’t seen another person naked since the first time with someone, so many years ago. He seems to know exactly what he’s doing, though.

“Well, now that the matter is settled.” Alastor lifts you up and places your head on a pillow. “There is something I have wanted to do since I met you. It was a strange craving, something that should have warned me of what was to come.”

“What’s the strange craving?” you ask, but rather than answer verbally he rolls his tongue between your leg, right against your clit, and you moan rather loudly with surprise.

Alastor laughs quietly to himself. “Enjoying yourself, darling?”

“Ohhhh God,” was all you could manage.

He licks your clit again before his tongue dips inside you, and when it does, Alastor elongates it—this shocks you, causes a gasp and a full-body shiver. You never thought such a thing was possible, and it’s certainly…a new experience. He rubs at your clit with his thumb while his tongue works inside you. He keeps your legs apart with his broad shoulders, tongue massaging against your walls until he reaches a spot that makes you scream. He laughs softly against your flesh and you’re panting now.

“Alastor…” Your legs tense up around him, muscles straining. He’s moaning against you as he works your body like he owns it, and maybe he does now. Your thighs tense around him and you…you’re getting louder.

“Is there something you can do about the noise?” you ask, even though you hate stopping him.

He keeps rubbing your clit while he speaks. “I can. But I will not. Louder.”

Alastor goes right back to it, his tongue working you hard, and he forces you to get louder just from the way his tongue moves against your walls.

“Oh, fuck…Oh, Al, don’t stop, please don’t stop…yeah…yeah, like that, like that…” Your breath comes in harder and harder, faster and faster, until you’re screaming, until your thighs are aching, until your pussy is so overstimulated that he pulls back with an enormous grin on his face.

He sucks one of your nipples into his mouth, but mercifully only briefly. “Tell me when I can take you.”

“Just a moment,” you pant. “Not a long wait, just a few minutes.”

“Very good,” Alastor says. “I’ll take other pleasure from other parts of your body in the meantime then, darling.”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “You do that, Al. Fucking hell.”

His tongue swirls along your nipple. “Yes darling?”

“You really took that one from the soul,” you say with a soft, shaky laugh. You nudge his shoulder. “Okay. I’m ready.”

“You’re sure?”

You nod a few times. “Yeah, yeah. Ready to go.”

You press your back down against the blankets, your head flat against the pillow. Alastor kneels between your knees and shoves them far apart, making plenty of room for himself. You’re silently grateful that he still seems to know exactly what to do—you’d gladly teach him if you had to, but it was so much better this way. He takes himself in hand and rubs the head of his cock from your clit and down, watches your muscles involuntarily jump slightly, a wide smirk on his face. Out of the corner of your eye, you see his shadow cast upon the wall, the elongated horns, that starving grin.

“I see you’ve noticed him,” Alastor says, entering you all at once. “Keep your eyes on me, dear. Pay him no mind.”

“You consider him separate from you?” you ask, your body adjusting to the size of him easily.

Alastor, however, does not seem to be having such an easy go of things. There is a look of concentration on his face, his lip between his teeth. It takes a moment for him to reply. “I consider him an echo of me. I’ll warn you now, I do not know how conversational I will be from this point on.”

“All the same,” you wink at him. “It’s not your conversation I’m after at the moment.”

It takes almost no time at all to get loud for him again, but this time it wasn’t just you being pleasured. This was a new world for Alastor and he was lost in it, captive to it. His hands grip at your hips as he fucks you harder and harder, the mattress shaking beneath you. Soon the headboard smacks against the wall and you thank God there’s no one on the other side.

“Al!” You hook one knee around his waist. “Al, please, deeper.”

He grabs your other knee and pulls it around him so he can get a better angle. He moves to whisper in your ear. “You feel so soft inside, like velvet. So warm, so hot…like that little pop of heat when you stand with your back to a fireplace…”

You moan loudly, feeling yourself get wetter and wetter around him, the sound slick and obscene. You can hear him curse, how his hips snap faster and faster until he finally spills his seed in you, fucking you through it.

Alastor’s damp forehead connects with your shoulder and you can feel his breath coming harsh against it. His hands soften their hard grip on your thighs and fall away, moving up to your waist, your ribs, one thumb against your nipple.

You play with his hair, with one of his ears, but it doesn’t seem to rile him up again, which was good, because you didn’t want to be told to stop. You turn your head against his and kiss his hair.

“Okay?” you ask after a while.

Upon hearing your voice, he lifts his head and then himself off of you. He crashes on his back beside you, his arm coming up around you, pulling you to him.

“I am so…so grateful that it was you,” he says. “I am grateful to have you. Forever. You and I will create a home next week, here at the hotel. It is well within my power to do. It can be any way you like. You should jot down ideas while you’re at Rosie’s.”

You groan. “I have to go back to Rosie’s, don’t I?”

“Yes, my lovely,” he says. “You will still reside at Rosie’s for the duration of this week until the Extermination is through and we are free to do as we please. We do not have to go straight back into radio. Maybe…we take some time to ourselves. It will be well-earned.”

“You’re going to need a break in general,” you say, pushing sweat-slicked hair out of his eyes. “You’re doing so much for all of us. I can’t believe you’re going to kill Adam.”

“Believe it, my love,” he says softly. “Believe me. This is our future.”

“I do believe you. I trust you,” you say. “And I’m sorry for being so bratty about being sent away. I am effectively useless in any type of fight scenario. I would hold everyone back.”

“You would sacrifice yourself too easily. I never said those things to hurt you, I said them because I feared what would happen to you.”

“I know,” you whisper. “I know.”

[lucysarah-c]

Mounting Spring Ch. 4

Summary: Paradis has opened its doors to the world, and the Rumbling has not yet occurred. The military board insists, "We need more Ackermans!" to avoid ruining Mikasa's life. Levi agrees. Arranged marriage, explicit consent, Omegaverse. Alpha! Levi x Omega! Y/N. Mentions of underage marriage but it doesn't happen, the reader is over 21.Age gap but they are both adults. (I would say enemys to lover but they don't even know eachother to be enemys lol.) Author note: I've had this idea for so long… Omegaverse is my guilty pleasure, and I decided to treat myself with it. From the creator of "Not in season?" I bring to you "Mounting Spring" lmao haha sorry it's just that my first omegaverse was rather a success… so I decided to do another. Masterlist to the previous parts! Ao3 link in case you prefer to read there!

A weariness clung to his body, one he couldn’t quite explain beyond being so utterly drained that even taking a shower felt like a monumental effort.

With a weary sigh, he pushed himself up from where he’d been slouched against the desk and slowly blew out the candles scattered around the office. Darkness didn’t bother him. He was used to it—had spent years orienting himself in the black void of the underground. The faint moonlight spilling through the window was more than enough. Compared to those shadowed depths, this was child’s play.

That night, the moon seemed unusually bright. His tired gaze drifted to the large arched window behind his desk. Waxing moon… or was it full already?

‘Don’t they say some bullshit about omegas going into heat during the full moon?’

He scoffed. “Urban myth,” he muttered. It sounded like something out of a witch’s tale. But, come to think of it, wasn’t she supposed to be in season?

The stack of paperwork on his desk taunted him with the reminder that he’d probably have to pull an all-nighter. The thought made his jaw clench. After everything that had happened that day, he muttered a curt, “Fuck it,” and extinguished the last candle. The room plunged into shadow as he dragged himself toward the bathroom.

But then his attention snagged on the slightly ajar door leading to his bedroom. It wasn’t wide open, but it wasn’t shut either—a hesitation in its placement that mirrored her presence in his life. Maybe she didn’t feel she had the right to close it entirely. Or perhaps she didn’t want to invite him in.

Levi wasn’t sure what possessed him to check. Maybe he wanted to ensure she was asleep. Maybe it was just an excuse, though he hated the idea of coming off as some kind of creep.

The silence in the room was oppressive, broken only by the sound of his footsteps. His sharp ears picked up no stirring from the other side of the door. She was asleep—curled into a small ball beneath the blankets. Her face was peaceful, framed by a tangle of hair splayed across the pillow.

‘She looks young,’ he thought absently, then corrected himself: Younger.

He pressed his lips into a thin line and tore his gaze away. “I shouldn’t be doing this,” he muttered, retreating into the safety of the bathroom.

As he stripped off his clothes, a faint scent clung to the fabric. It wasn’t unpleasant—not even close—but it was strong enough to make his body react in a way he resented.

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, frowning deeply. “It’s not my fault,” he groaned, trying to shake the thought from his head. She wasn’t in heat, after all. If she had been, he’d already be climbing the walls. He grimaced at the thought of what that would’ve meant—both a curse and a convenience. Her hormones would have made her eager, desperate even, and he… well, he wouldn’t have had the luxury to hesitate. Instinct would’ve taken over, and by now, it would all be over—messy, but over.

But she wasn’t in heat, and that was both a blessing and a complication. On one hand, it spared them both the humiliation of fumbling through something neither of them wanted. On the other hand, he was standing half-naked in his bathroom, trying to keep his thoughts clean while the girl he barely knew slept just a room away.

‘It’s like jerking off to the thought of a coworker,’ he thought with disgust. ‘Not illegal, but it feels like it.’

He needed a clear head—desperately. Most of his squad had gone through their ruts recently, their youth amplifying every primal urge. She smelled too good for a group of young, horny alphas to ignore. A cold shower might’ve been the smart choice, but the chill of the rain earlier still clung to his skin, and he just wanted to collapse into bed.

His bed wasn’t an option, though—not tonight. Instead, he grabbed a pillow from the couch in the corner of his office. He propped it against the armrest and sank down, throwing a thin gray blanket over himself. His head rested against his arm, and his other hand lazily scratched at his stomach, the hem of his shirt riding up. The dim glow of the moonlight played across the room, and he stared at the ceiling, eyes heavy but his mind restless.

“What the hell am I going to do,” he murmured to himself.

The sharpness of his fags could be perceived by his tongue that, under the foreign texture couldn’t stop feeling it. That, the thickness of his saliva and the clear feeling that his loose pants were perhaps a bit tight. It was obvious, she smelled too good, his own nature being highlighted by the time of the year and, in particular, the lack of exposure. Frowning and sighing loudly, he rolled over to a side searching for a position comfortable enough for him to fall asleep into.

Sleep came eventually. For Levi, sleeping on a couch with a makeshift pillow and a mission-worn blanket was a luxury compared to the alternatives. For once, exhaustion was kind.

On the other side of the room, her mind kept replaying the scene.

“Die. Just go. You’re making this harder for me,” she whispered, gripping the edge of the small French balcony of the borrowed household. The late-night air was cold against her skin as she stared down at the street below. It was late, the streets below barely lit, and her eyes darted nervously toward the door of her room before returning to the darkness beyond.

The young man standing below, dark-haired with striking gold eyes, still wore his military uniform. He looked up at her with an pleading expressing, “Come on, Y/N,” he called up, his voice a mix of desperation and imploring. “Are you really going to let it all go? I can talk to someone—someone higher up that with what’s going on. We can change this. You don’t have to do it.”

Her grip tightened on the balcony’s iron railing, her knuckles white with tension. She shook her head sharply, pressing her forehead to the cold metal. His words only deepened the ache inside her. Referring to her loss of the season to “what’s going on” made it sound trivial, dismissive, when it had torn her apart. “Stop it,” she whispered. Her voice trembled as she added, “I’m doing this for my family.”

“You don’t deserve this,” he said softly, his eyes locked on her. “You deserve the life you’ve worked for—just as much as your siblings do.”

“Y/N!”

The shout startled her, and she flinched, slamming the window shut as the door to her room swung open. She spun around, pressing her back against the glass, hands behind her to brace it closed. Her heart thundered in her chest, afraid of being caught—not by her two-year-old sister, but by someone who might hold more authority.

“What is it, Mae?” she asked, forcing calmness into her voice as the toddler raised her arms to be picked up. She obliged, hoisting the little girl onto her hip before sitting on the bed, her exhaustion evident. Her tangled hair framed her face, damp from the cold towels she’d used to try to soothe her pounding headache.

“Are you leaving because I used your makeup?” Mae pouted, her large, curious eyes searching Y/N’s face.

Y/N managed a tired smile. The memory of her two younger sisters destroying her makeup a few days earlier flickered briefly in her mind. Back then it had infuriated her, now it seemed like a distant worry. “No, Mae. I’m leaving because I’m getting married. Remember?” she said, her tone soft, trying to explain in a way the toddler could understand.

“What about being princesses?” Mae pouted harder.

It broke her. Tears welled in her eyes, and she pulled her sister into a tender hug. The pounding in her head and the dull ache in her lower belly were relentless, her body rebelling against her refusal to conceive this season—as if she’d had a choice.

Mae was innocence incarnate, her wide-eyed questions too pure for the weight they carried. But her older brother, on the other hand, had been no help. She’d found one of the WANTED posters of her soon-to-be husband plastered on her dressing table as a joke.

“You think this is funny?!” Y/N snapped, shaking the boy by his shoulders. Her anger surged, raw and unrestrained, but she bit back the urge to slap him. “I’m doing this for you, idiot! For you, for Ed, for Mom!”

“You’re not in charge,” the boy spat, his voice cracking but defiant. “Dad’s home, remember?”

The arrogance in his tone made her blood boil. Ever since their father’s return, the boy had become insufferable, emboldened by his status as the favored child and the budding dominance of his alpha nature.

“You want to be a man so badly? Then act like one and know your place!” she hissed, shoving the crumpled poster into his chest.

“You’re marrying a subversive,” he sneered with disdain, parroting words he clearly didn’t understand.

“I’m marrying someone who’ll make sure you don’t have to live off scraps and pity from the military, you little fool!” she snarled. Her hands trembled as frustration and heartbreak collided.

That memory dissolved into another—curled on her bed, her body wracked with cramps. The bathroom light, still on, spilled into the room. From the cracked door, she could hear her parents arguing. The light from the corridor illuminated the carpeted floor by the ajar door, casting her parents' distorted shadows like a muppets show against the ground.

“She needs to rest,” her mother said, trying to placate the man’s rising fury. “These things happens —”

“She’s ruining us!” her father screamed. “This was our chance, and she’s screwing it all up!”

Her sobs grew louder, muffled only by the pillow she pressed against her face. She lay with her back to the slightly open door, as if trying to shield herself from the conflict. They had been arguing for a while about the possibility, the events all pointing in one direction. That alone had fueled this outrage. ‘How am I going to tell them?’ The thought made her chest tighten with anxiety.

They argued over a possibility, now she had to confirmed them that it was a reality. Only minutes ago, she had walked to the bathroom—the golden light of the candle still flickering there. When her fingers came away stained with blood, the confirmation of what she already knew—her heat had passed, her body rejecting what it was supposed to do.

“She’s not doing it on purpose!” her mother argued.

“Then fix her! Give her some calming tea, call the damn doctor, do something! You think he'll keep her if she’s not useful?!”

She gripped the pillow tightly before tossing it over her head and pressing it hard against her face, as if she could make the world vanish for a moment. Silently pleading for the shouting to stop. ‘Please… just stop.’

None of the memories from the past week came to her in order; they just replayed chaotically in her mind. When her tired eyes fluttered open in the dim light of the room, she realized she had been tearing up in her sleep. The shadows cast inside the room weren’t her parents', and the voices weren’t theirs either. Sitting up slightly, she became aware of her surroundings. The sheets felt rough, and the mattress was smaller than what she was used to.

The memory of when she had fallen asleep completely eluded her, but the clock on the nightstand indicated it was already morning. She couldn’t tell by the window; the rain was still pouring heavily outside. The hushed whispers of two people on the other side of the room made her debate whether to sit up or feign sleep. She quickly chose the latter as the sound of someone opening the door reached her ears. Curling up in the bed, she pulled the sheets over her face, nearly hiding herself entirely.

With her face almost fully covered, the scent of the bed surrounded her. There was something subtly unsettling about the lingering fragrance of someone else on the sheets—a constant reminder that this wasn’t her bed. Yet, it wasn’t unpleasant. Quite the opposite, it was oddly soothing. Her decision to pretend to be asleep shifted into the realization that she could drift off again. Perhaps her subconscious was taking over, responding instinctively to the alpha's scent that enveloped her—a primal comfort, making her feel safe and protected.

—

“Hi~” came Hange’s singsong voice as they opened the door without knocking. “Knock, knock,” they added playfully, as if mocking the concept of knocking before barging in.

Levi, standing in the middle of the room with his uniform half on and a toothbrush in his mouth, turned to glance at them with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, I thought you’d be less ready at this hour,” Hange remarked, stepping fully into the room.

Levi spit out the toothpaste and wiped his mouth with a towel before muttering, “What are you doing here?” His eyes landed on the tray they carried. “And with a tray?”

“I brought breakfast for the newlywed couple!”

“Shh!” Levi hissed, moving swiftly to grab the tray before Hange accidentally dropped it. He motioned for silence, his expression stern. She was still asleep, and the message was clear.

“Sorry, sorry,” Hange whispered. As Levi set the tray on the coffee table and resumed getting ready, an unusual silence settled between them. It didn’t last long.

“So…” Hange began, their curiosity bubbling to the surface. “How was it? How is she?”

Levi ignored the question, muttering a vague reply through clenched teeth as he moved about the room, clearly trying to avoid the topic.

Hange’s sharp eyes followed him, their face shifting into a grimace as the tension grew. “I’m not exactly a purebred alpha,” they finally said, “but… you don’t smell very taken to me.”

Levi, who had just sneaked inside his room a little while ago to pick up his stuff, sighed loudly and stopped moving, giving himself a moment to respond. “… I couldn’t,” he admitted finally.

Hange pressed their lips together, unusually quiet for a moment. When Levi turned to face them, their expression said it all.

“Come on,” Levi snapped. “You’re a non-stop talker, and now you shut the hell up? Say something.”

“I’m… finding it.”

Levi rolled his eyes, grumbling in frustration.

“Oh boy…” Hange finally ventured. “Well. Maybe she was just tired? Tonight, after she’s settled—”

“We agreed I wouldn’t do it if she didn’t want to.”

The blank stare Hange gave him was enough to make Levi snap. “What did you want me to do?!”

“I don’t know?!” Hange exclaimed, throwing their arms in the air. “Claim her? Maybe?!”

From an outsider’s perspective, the exchange might have been hilarious—their expressions exaggerated, their words intense, yet still whispered fiercely to avoid waking her.

Levi scowled. “Well, excuse me. Excuse me for not being a fucking rapist.”

Hange’s attempt at a lighter tone wasn’t helping. “Some would argue that you are—you’re an alpha, after all.”

“You’re an alpha too, you idiot,” Levi shot back, finding no humor in their dark joke.

“Hardly. I’m more beta than alpha.”

Levi ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “You should’ve seen the puppy eyes she gave me. I’ve got fucking lots of kinks, but that’s not one of them.”

Hange clicked their tongue and shook their head. “Omega puppy eyes… the deadliest weapon of all.” They crossed their arms, leaning back thoughtfully. “Zackly’s going to kill you, though.”

“Tch.” Levi rolled his eyes. “He can suck my dick.”

That made Hange laugh more than they should have. “Seriously, though—what the hell are you going to do with an unclaimed omega in the middle of a military facility? I can catch her scent, and I’m a low-breed alpha.”

“That’s what I was hoping you’d help me with,” Levi admitted, reluctant to ask for help but clearly out of his depth.

Hange didn’t answer, instead moving toward the door.

“No, no, no,” Levi muttered, darting across the room to stop them, but they had already cracked it open to peek inside.

“You’re going to wake her up,” Levi hissed, his whisper dropping to an even lower register.

Hange ignored him, their eyes fixed on the small portion of her face visible above the sheets. “… What about a convent? Maybe I can talk to a priest.”

“A convent?” Levi echoed in disbelief as his exasperation grew “That’s your solution?”

“Either that or bars on all the windows. No one gets in, no one gets out.” Hange turned to him, smirking.

Levi shot them his best deadpan expression. “We’ve gone from a convent to a prison. And you’re supposed to be the brains here?”

“I gave you a solution,” Hange retorted, leaning closer as their whispered argument continued. “Claim her.”

“I can’t!” Levi snapped, his frustration boiling over.

“Then trust,” Hange said, spreading their arms in a gesture of faith. “Then trust our soldiers. I trust them—they’ll behave,” though their tone sounded less certain with each word. “Maybe Jean will get a little too excited, like a puppy with a new toy, but he’s a good kid.”

Levi’s flat expression didn’t waver. “You trust Floch around her without me in the picture?”

The brunette, who had been sporting a confident, almost cheerful smile while defending the few original members of the Scouts before they were nearly wiped out, suddenly shifted to a serious, defeated expression. Waving a hand in the air, they muttered, "You made your point loud and clear."

The silence that followed was thick, as both stood by the door frame. Levi, arms crossed, was deep in thought. Meanwhile, Hange continued to stare at her, their eyes scanning her face across the dimly lit room.

"I’ll just… lock her up here for a couple of days until her scent calms down. It’s not ideal, but—"

Levi’s quiet musings, spoken with a defeated tone, were abruptly interrupted by Hange muttering under their breath, "She’s hella cute, though."

Levi’s hand moved to pinch the bridge of his nose, clicking his tongue in frustration.

"What? Can’t I compliment your wife?" the brunette asked jokingly, still admiring the sleeping girl. They tilted their head to the side, trying to get a better view. "You’re one lucky bastard."

"Four-eyes!" Levi snapped, using the old nickname he hadn’t used in years out of respect for his friend’s new position. The commander chuckled. "Stop staring at her," Levi ordered.

"I’m doing nothing," Hange shrugged, though their eyes remained fixed on the sleeping girl.

"I can fucking smell you, idiot!" Levi growled, clearly indicating that he could easily detect how Hange’s body reacted to his new wife. The spicy, interested aroma they gave off was more than enough for Levi to know that Hange found her more than just pretty.

Hange barely contained a laugh, forcing a straight face to speak. "Question, and this one’s serious," they said, their eyes twinkling. Levi’s tired expression only seemed to amuse them more. "If you two… ever get down to business, would you consider a threesom—"

"DON’T HIT ME!" Hange quickly added as Levi’s hand moved with lightning speed to smack the back of their head.

"Shut the fuck up. You’ll wake her up," Levi muttered, but Hange was already caressing the back of their head where Levi had smacked them. "And over my dead, cold body. You heard me?"

"Ugh," Hange groaned, rubbing the back of their head with their left hand. "You purebreds… are so territorial. You’re missing half the fun."

Levi remained with his arms crossed, eyes narrowing. "And you’ll be missing your only remaining eye if you ever bring that shit into my room again."

When she woke up again, the clock on the nightstand read 11 am.

(I'm sorry if this chapter was shitty, I'd been so stressed with work lately but I didn't want to let you all down another week in a row T-T)

Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out.

Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @trashblackrainbow @l3visthighs @hannieslovebot @flxrartsstuff @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @katharinasdiaryy @ackermanswifee @levistealeaf @an-ever-angry-bi @youre-ackermine @searriously @blackdxggr @storiesofsung @abiatackerman @braunsbabe @moonchild-angel @galactict3a @lemonsupernova @hyuckwon-my-husbands @heyitsd1yaa @sydneyyuu @love-for-faeries-go-burrrr @mandaax @sugacor3 @r0ckst4rjk @vegetasgirl2799 @catiwinky @pinksaiyans @sparklykeylime Wanna join my tag list? Here!

[dumpsterfire-daydreams]

TW: Sexual Intercourse, TW: Rough sex, TW: Dirty talk/mild degradation, TW: Tight fit, TW: Choking, TW: Biting, TW: Brief mention of Breeding, TW: Brief mention of Blood, Dominant Ghost, Vocal Ghost, Submissive Reader, Belly Bulge, Overstimulation, Affectionate Ghost, Happy tears

It’s cuffing season~

And all the girls be needing~

A big boy. I need a big boy, I want a big boy~~~

Previously, on Ghost Laying Pipe,...

“Look,” Ghost panted, slowly thrusting between the flesh of your thighs. “I know you said you liked it rough. But I won't lie. I can be a bit more than just rough. I don't hold back and it takes an act of God to make me stop once I get started. You sure you can really handle that? I’m not the best at being gentle, but I can promise to try my best if it's too much.”

“Ghost, I’ve never been more sure in my entire life,” you moaned, moving with him. “Please.”

Ghost chuckled, the sound low and husky as he lined himself up at your entrance. “Well then. You might want to hold onto something.”

And now, on Ghost Laying Pipe,...

---------------------

Reader POV:

You were already so far gone. Your first orgasm had left you dazed and your body was still tingling from the sweet release. But though your mind was heavily clouded by the swarm of endorphins, you managed react. You reached out and gripped the metal bar of the headboard to brace yourself. And you were immediately glad that you did.

Ghost slowly started to advance, the head of his cock parting your glistening folds like a hand entering a glove. Well, a very tight glove. The fullness of his head hadn't even pushed into you fully when you gripped the headboard tight with a loud whine.

Inhalation. Exhalation. That was all you heard around you, your own frantic gasps of air combining with his sharp intakes of breath. Ghost wasn't rushing this first push, knowing full well it would hurt even more if he did. So he gritted his teeth, trying hard to take his time and ease his girth into your opening with tremorous restraint.

"That's it," he purred, his voice rumbling through his chest. He gripped the curve of your hips to steady you as your legs began to shake. "Easy, princess. You can take me."

You whimpered, the sound hitting his ears like music. But you didn't speak. You couldn't. All you were able to do was clutch the metal bar, mouth hanging open in a wanton expression of awe as he gradually crammed himself into you.

Suddenly, you felt him go still. You still hadn't felt the distinctive snap of his tip sliding past your entrance. So you assumed he was backing out, bracing to push back in again in an effort to gradually stretch you out. In truth, that was his initial intention. But though his girth was thick, his body's patience was leaning more towards the opposite extreme. With a controlled roll of his hips, Ghost jerked forward and pushed his head past the ring of muscle that held him at bay.

"Ah!" Your body rocked with the movement, the sudden taste of fullness stretching your walls to their limit in an instant. "G-ghost!"

This time, it was his turn to have no words. A low groan of bliss sounded from behind you as your walls closed in around him. There was still a lot of him left to follow, but just that small sample made him shudder in anticipation.

"Bloody… hell," he heaved, allowing himself a series of shallow thrusts. "I knew you were tight but- Oh, fuck me. Fuck!"

The movement gave him a rush of needed friction over his sensitive head. But it also served to gently ease your walls into a more relaxed, accepting state. He was working you open, trying to prepare your body for what would soon follow. And after a few seconds of acclimation, he tightened his hold on you and slowly continued his advance.

Your hand was trembling now. The other quickly moved to mirror its twin's grasp on the headboard as you tried to will your core into submission. But no amount of mental fortitude could handle the feeling of his length splitting you apart.

"Can't!" You gasped with a shuddered sob, back arching to escape the increasing tightness expanding into your stomach. "It's too much!"

"Breathe with me, princess," Ghost strained the words out past another deep moan. "Just a little more. You can take me. You can take me."

He repeated his last phrase in breathy gasps, almost like he was trying to convince himself of the same. The pressure on his length was excruciating in the best of ways. But despite the initial reluctance of your core, he could feel you slowly stretching to accommodate him. Every ridge and fold of your entrance stimulated him as they made way for his presence. It was gradual, but it was happening. Your depths were swallowing him whole and it felt so incredible it was nearly mind-numbing. But he knew continuing at such a gentle pace would only draw out the discomfort for you. What you needed was this initial moment over and done with, ripped off like a band-aid.

"I've got you," Ghost murmured, slipping a precautionary hand over your mouth. "Deep breath for me, princess."

When he felt you breathe in, he followed it with a sharp inhale of his own before snapping his hips forward into yours. You let out a muffled scream as he buried his length into you in one fluid motion, a deep shudder coursing through your body in violent waves. Suddenly, you could feel all of him. Every vein, every throb, every twitch. The head of his cock tucked firmly against your cervix, an internal barrier you knew he would soon batter relentlessly.

Ghost joined you in your reaction, cursing through his teeth in a sharp hiss. Once your choked sounds of shock and pleasure had died down a bit, he removed his hand from your mouth to let them fly free. A chorus of gasps, moans, and heated whispers of lust filled the room as both of you savored the tight fit.

"Jesus Christ, princess. You're gonna be fucking ruined when I'm done with you."

You panted beneath him, your grip on the headboard faltering as you collapsed to the mattress below. Every muscle in your body had turned to mush, your mind unable to will them into motion again. All it could process was just how completely he filled you. How his size made your stomach bulge outward. And how your body urgently needed more.

"Ghost, I-"

"Simon," he growled, quickly removing his mask before readjusting his hold. "Call me Simon."

"Simon," you breathed. "More."

A low chuckle rumbled through him, the vibrations dancing alone your spine. "You want more, princess? I'll give you some more."

Without warning, he reared back and impaled you again. There was no more waiting. No more patience. No more tenderness. He repeated the motion, grunting with each impact as he found his pace. It was raw, it was primal. It was nothing but pure expression of a desperate need too long contained.

Every thrust came with the resounding clap of his thighs against your ass, your body quaking in response. His fingers dug into your hips, almost clawing for purchase. Any grip he could find, he used to yank you back to meet each brutal re-entry.

"Is this what you wanted? Huh? To make me fucking lose it and fuck your brains out?"

You moaned, the sound coming out shrill and breathy. There were no words to say. There was only the feeling of him pounding into you like there was no tomorrow. And God, you hoped tomorrow would never come.

"You tempted me. You haunted me. You made me wait. But you asked for this. And now that you're in my house, in my bed? You're mine now. I don't care where you are or what you're doing. I will drag your ass back here so fast it'll make your head spin. Make you take my cock again. And again! And again!" He punctuated his words with a series of particularly harsh thrusts that sent you jolting forward from the force. "I could spend the rest of my life claiming you. Breeding you. Filling you up to the brim. And I just might. So, be a good girl and let me destroy you like you've always craved."

Ghost was rambling and he knew it, but he didn't care. He couldn't stop. Every sordid thought and fantasy that had crossed his mind since the day you arrived on base just came pouring out of his mouth. And now that he no longer had to confine them, they couldn't be held inside any longer. He wanted you to hear his darkest dreams of you. He wanted you to feel the burning heat that coursed through him with each stolen glance. The true depths of his desire, of his need, and of his love. He needed you to know just how badly he craved you.

"Simon-Fuck! Oh my god, Simon!"

You couldn’t will any other words out of your mouth. But you didn't need to. He didn't need to hear perfectly formed phrases to describe the intricacies of how much you needed him too. Those words were enough for him. Every gasp and moan was enough to convey what he longed to hear. What he knew to be true.

Like putty in his hands, you were helpless in a trance of bliss when he took full control. With one hand gripping your shoulder and the other maintaining a firm grip on your waist, he lifted you off the bed entirely like you weighed nothing at all. And with his newfound leverage, he moved your whole body with his vicious rhythm without skipping a beat.

"You like this?" Ghost growled, digging his nails into your side. "Me using you as my own personal fleshlight? My pretty little cocksleeve?"

"Yes!" You whimpered, your breath hitching with each thrust. "Don't stop."

"I bet you'll like this more," he chuckled, grabbing your throat and forcing your head back against his shoulder. "I haven't forgotten what you like. What you need."

"Oh my god," you wailed, melting as he squeezed your neck in a crushing grip. There was still enough freedom to breathe, but the surge of dominance still took your breath away.

You could feel yourself beginning to fall apart. A level of urgency tinged your voice as you cried out for him to make you his. And he did not disappoint. Ghost’s stamina was ungodly, his pace never faltering from the start. He rammed the girth length of his cock into you just as rough and deep as before. And the pleasure you felt, the fulfillment that rushed through you? It was stronger than anything you'd ever felt in your life. Your back was arched at a near painful angle, body contorted around his hulking form like an accessory.

With one hand, you cradled his cheek. You turned his face towards yours, eyes of twin flames locking in heated passion. The words didn't need to be spoken aloud, but you spoke them anyway. Your heart felt like it would burst in your chest if you didn't.

"I love you," you panted, breath shaky as you felt your climax drawing near.

"I love you, too," he rasped, his eyes half-lidded and rolling back in his head as his own release crept closer. "More than life itself."

He knew you were close. Every shiver of your body in his arms made it crystal clear. So, he offered you just enough added pleasure to tear your grip from the ledge. As his fingertips fondled your clit, he growled and sank his teeth into your shoulder. You cried out, but he didn't let go. He bit hard, so hard he'd leave a mark. A symbol of who you belonged to. Who held the key to your wildest pleasures. He probably drew blood. But what did it matter? What were a few drops of blood in exchange for a lifetime of pleasure?

"Simon!" you mewled, clutching his shoulder. The physical world was starting to melt away from your senses as your core twitched around him. Every other sound faded to the background. All that remained were your shrill cries, his depraved whispers hot in your ear, and the filthy sounds of his cock slamming into your dripping sex with urgency. Your mind wasn't nearly clear enough to decipher his words. But moments later you did hear his breath catch on the jagged edge of his own climax, his low tones morphing into a guttural roar of satisfaction. Ghost cursed loudly, clutching your writhing form against him as he erupted within you. He continued rolling his hips as he spilled his seed, almost as if to force his release into every available space. As if to ensure every inch of your depths would be marked with his claim.

There was the sound of heavy panting and labored breath in your ear. It was hard to tell if it was you or Ghost, perhaps both. But you were too far gone to make sense of anything except how you felt in that moment. Overwhelmed. Cock drunk. Satisfied. Fulfilled.

Happy.

You felt happy. Truly happy. And it felt like it had been ages since you experienced that emotion so intensely. Even if you had, nothing could compare to this. Nothing could ever hope to come close. This was the mountain top moment, right here and right now.

"Oh, princess," Ghost shushed you, frantically stroking your shoulders as he set you back down. "Was it too much? Did I hurt you? Please don't cry. I-I’m so sorry."

You were crying? His hand skimmed over your cheeks. It wasn't until he began wiping the tears away that your skin registered the moist sensation. But just having the awareness that tears had fallen did nothing to stop their flow.

"No, I'm okay," you sniffled, shakily wiping your eyes. "I'm okay. I'm just... I'm just so happy. You don't know how much I've wanted this. Needed this. Needed you . It's been so long since someone touched me at all. And I just... I love you so much."

Ghost breathed a sigh of relief, carefully backing out of you before pulling you to his chest. "Believe me, I know exactly how you feel. And the feeling's mutual."

"Never let me go," you whimpered, a fresh wave of tears cresting with the words. "Please, never let me go."

"I'm not going anywhere, princess," he whispered back, holding you tight. "And that's a promise."

[lukeskqwalker]

ok, so. lucanis's recruitment quest doesn't make a whole lot of sense at first glance, so this is my attempt of putting together what the fuck you walked into and what daily life there was like.

to start, i don't believe the room you meet lucanis in is his cell at all. i think lucanis had succeeded in 85% of his breakout when you recruit him. the cells that were shown were much smaller and more sparse, I believe he was not given special treatment. I believe he managed to kill the guard bringing his meal, broke out, got his gear back (armor, sweater, knives, etc), and killed MOST of the guards. the sheer number of guards caught up to him, and some mages managed to encase him in ice and lock the door with red lyrium while waiting for someone else to bring his blood so that they could transfer him back to his cell.

I can't decide how much, if at all, spite showed himself in the ossuary before his attempted breakout. part of me wants to say that he spent the entire time as spite (lucanis's quote about how he survived by shutting down completely, be nothing, feel nothing, etc. makes me think that he genuinely just gave spite the reins), and the other part of me wonders what lucanis meant when he said that they were waiting for spite to burst from him like a cocoon. Like, the physical demon of spite, killing lucanis in the process? or the symbiotic relationship they have now, just manifesting physically like when he has the wings/is in control? I'm leaning towards the first one, though the feel nothing/be nothing quote could still apply if spite never showed himself.

as for the blood, i'm sure they used it often to walk him to the torture/experiment room and for, well, general human needs. that's why he knows its there.

side note. lucanis knew who a LOT of zaras people were, and mentions their role in the bloodbath quest. (helpfully named, as its the one with the bath. of blood.) when you kill one of zaras people, he mentions how this one used to come to the ossuary to read bones. why is he there for this? how long would he be kept on a torture table to know these things? how many times has he attempted to escape and gotten part of the way through before being stopped?

I DO wonder if spite could sense the red lyrium cage breaking and That be why he decided to break out of the ice right in that moment.

going back to the gear, its... well. a hilarious detail thats fitting to his character. its so tidy! he wears a little bolo tie! his shirt is completely laced to the top! hes got that HOMEMADE SWEATERRRRRRRR. all while attempting a prison break. I think it was supposed to add to the fear factor and thus go back to the crow training related to throwing the target off guard. also, probably helped with feeling more human instead of an experiment.

[icarusredwings]

After Logan was given a piece of the girls clothing, he gave a funny look to the officer.

"... did she own rabbits?"

"Awww bunnys!!" Wade coes, interrupting the conversation. He couldn't smell the scent, but he could tell just from the shirt alone that there was animal hair on it. White, slightly dark tipped.

The officer gave a scrunched up look. "About that... she IS a rabbit.."

"What?" Logan growls, about to rip this man a new one when a woman came to him with big watery eyes. "She's not a rabbit! She's a shifter! S-she just got her powers a couple of weeks ago a-and now my baby girl is lost in these woods!"

"So is she a rabbit or not? Because she sure as fuck smells like one."

"Dang Logan, She lost her daughter, it's not her fault." Wade whispers to him, knowing how frustrated he must be but he didn't want him snapping at the poor woman, whos shirt was already soaked (and starting to freeze) from tears, her hair was a mess, the bags under her eyes suggested that she hasn't rested since she's found out her child was missing, and her skirt was hand stitched, patched in some spots.

"Sir, I'm going to need you to calm down." The officer said.

"Don't tell him to calm down! There's a child missing, and so far, you've done jack shit!!" Wade pipes up, stepping forward and pointing a finger at his nose, actually touching it, only for his hand to be slapped away.

"We've tried tracking her down but..." he starts as the mother sobs into her apron.

"Buuuuttt??" The bald man in 2 different hats questioned, not ready to freeze his ass off for this, but he would want someone to do this if his daughter was missing.

Oh.. those were the days. Logan and him arguing over parenting choices, having dinner together, sleeping soundly at night knowing their family was happy and healthy. But now they were empty nesters.

Heh. That must have been the best 20 years of Wade's life. The only good thing about this is that his daughter having his genetics, so she could stay 16 forever if she really wanted too. Each time she died she regenerated back into that mouthy little girl, though it was odd to watch a 25 year old woman turn into a 16 year old again, especially when remembering that she's 21+ by now.

'No way, young lady, you can't drink your underage!!'

'Dad, i'm 25...'

Man... they grew up so fast.. And they were so proud of all of them. Even the adopted ones along the way like that little rascal Leo who apprently was doing quite well for himself now that he was all grown up. Poor guy ended up having a hairy back and a mane so large that it almost mirrored Sabertooths... so much for being a 'late bloomer'

The sweet thoughts go away when the man gestures to three dead rabbits next to them on the side of the road. "The dogs keep going after our suspects.."

"Woah, Hold on a second. You're having a problem with your highly trained shepherd dog's prey drive so you got THE WOLVERINE?? That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard and I once googled if I could put a fork in my toaster because half my toaster strudel fell out instead of just unplugging it!" He shouts, arms going up. "Who's in charge of this operation!?"

"You didn't find that out before agreeing to come!?" Logan growls at him only for Wade to roll his eyes. "Oh, calm your knot, Jacob. I didn't know our helpless little girl was actually a single rabbit lost in a forest wonderland!"

Logans brows furrow with that 'Who the fuck is Jacob?' Look, his face showing more confusion then anger now.

"Alright. So here's what we're gonna do." Wade starts.

"Yeah, No. You already ruined your chances at this, it's my turn. You litsen to me, now!" He says, making Wade's hands go up. "Ooh~ Yes sir."

"Shut up!"

"Ok-"

"I'm taking this. I need a coms, give me a couple of hours and a med kit. The kid might be injured, so I might have to fix'em up before carrying them back here. They'll be weak, so maybe some food too. What does she like? Actually, never mind, get me the file." Grabbing the clothing, he decided it would be better to

"OOh fuck- I'm so wet right now." Wade mutters under his breath, getting a 'what the fuck' glance from the officer.

____

By the time Logan collected all that he needed to leave, Wade (of course) was strapped.

"I told you not to bring those. If anything, the gun powder will scare her, and she'll run off." Logan muttered.

"You never know when you'll need to shoot something, Loagie. Besides, I have flares too. And the snacks." He says, opening the bag as they walked, rummaging through it. "Why is there so much deer jerky in here?"

"I like deer jerky." He grumbles, slightly annoyed as the air was pricking his nose.

"I know that but is that the only thing they packed?? Aren't rabbits herbivores?" He says, still looking with a frown. Maybe he should have taken Ro up on that soup...

Not to mention, while he had one idiot in his ear, he had another in the other one.

'Logan, you should be coming up to where-'

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I can smell it." Glancing over, he saw that the puddle of blood from the other rabbit half way already covered with a new layer of pure white.

Squinting, he breathed slowly and smelled deep.

"There's a storm coming.." he says over the mic.

'We know, that's why this is so important.'

"Wait a second, you sent kurt out here KNOWING there was a storm rolling in!? And then you dragged me out here knowing damn well I've never stepped foot in these woods!?"

'He volunteered, and we called you first. You just refused to pick up. And yes you have, you have a cabin somewhere out here.'

"No I don't!"

'Other Logan did.' Scott mutters.

"How many times to I have to fucking tell you that I don't have his memories!? You sent me into unknow-"

His nose twitches, stopping as he got a whiff.

"Oh, he's got something. Whatcha smell boy? Show me!" Wade coes, giggling a bit as he pats his knees, causing Logan to growl, blushing, embarrassed at the puppy talk.

Walking off, he changes direction, leaving the premade path of boot tracks and paw prints.

'What are you doing? Stay on the path!... Logan? Logan! Now is not the time to go all lone wolf! Loga-'

The Wolverine gives a snarl of annoyance, trying to both pinpoint and smell with the nagging in his ear. Taking the head set off and turned, dropping it in Wade's hands, who made a 'Oooh!' Sound, putting it on instead with a big smirk.

"Hiya! You're on air with us at red and yellow radio station! What's your question caller?"

'What? Wade! Give it back to Logan! If he goes off track, we won't be able to-'

"Aht, i'm gonna have to cut you off, caller, This is our mission, our gig. Don't worry, I won't lose the big guy. Right now, he's looking at a tree. And now hes sniffing. Oh now he's glaring at me, and now hes-"

"Wade!! Hush!"

"Sorry caller, gotta go-"

'Wade? Deadpool? Wade!! Don't you dare go rouge! Wade!!!'

Thinking about old Worst Wolverine being called by each of the X men individually after they have a falling out because Logan injured a child very badly to the point the only reason they didn't die is because another classmates healing abilities all while he just... walked away.

Well- ran.. away... leaving a child to die. He's tried to explain thousands of times that he blacked out, that he didn't remember doing any of this. He tries to say that maybe it was someone else, that mystique did this shit all the time in his universe.

"Yeah, well!? This isn't your universe! Because the REAL Logan would never do this.." Scott screams at him as Logan leaves the Mansion for the last time. He doesn't come back. He didn't even get to tell his Xkits goodbye. It got to the point where Laura dropped out, taking Gabby with her, wanting nothing to do with the school anymore.

So now, here he is. In Maine, an old fisherman, part-time hunter, and the only people he lets around him have healing factors.

He lives with Wade, who still- by the way- doesn't have any grey hairs (maybe because hes bald but- yk)

One night, while Logan is out, making himself feel useful by feeding the small town they're in, providing for more poor families, feeding their children's hungry mouths and asking nothing in return but respect. (It gets to the point that the children cheer when they see Logan, wanting to hug him, but he growls at them to get off, too afraid of hurting them) Wade finally awnsers the ringing phone.

"What." There's vemon in his tone, but soon his eyes widden, and he frowns.

Walking outside he stands there a moment, knowing Logan can hear him.

He ignores him, looking at the fish, litsening, his breathing slowing as he skewers some with his claws. Its not exactly spear fishing but- close.

"What?" His voice is almost annoyed, as if knowing what his long time Husband was about to ask him.

"Logan.."

"No."

"Logan-"

He shakes his head. "Don't care."

"...She's missing."

He pauses, turning after scraping the dead fish into a bucket. "Who's missing?"

"There's a little girl missing."

"So?"

"Logan!"

"I'm not helping them, Wade. That's final." He growls.

For a moment, Wade frowns, but he didn't learn to obey thy husband like the bible said.

He never did.

"Logan, there's a 6 year old out there. All alone. Cold. Probably going to be eaten by wolves!" He shouts from the back porch, knowing his place enough to stay here and not come near his fish. Even after all these years, Logan was still finicky over his food. "And all because some old fart won't help her!"

The silence thickened as Logan thought about it, the hero side of his brain yelling 'We'll find her!' And the hurt old part of him saying 'That's not my buisness.'

".. You find her then." He compromises.

"I can't! And if anyone knows those Canadian woods, it's you! You said you knew those forests like the back of your hand!" Wade protests. "If I could smell someone through miles of freezing snow, I would. But I can't. So here I am, asking The Wolverine to go do what he does best."

He grunts, glaring. "And that is?"

"Helping a little girl get back to her mommy..." Wade says, knowing that he was sold. He knew he was sold the moment he told him to do it himself. "She doesn't have much time, Logan." He sighs, putting a cherry on top.

The greyed man huffed, grumbling under his breath for a moment. "Who will stay here with the dog?"

"Gabby can! She loves gabs." Gott'em.

"What about Laura? Why can't she find her?"

Shit.

"Logan, Laura has barley been in those woods. You've lived in them for years. So. What will it be. Pull up your panties and go save a little girls life? Or do it anyway when our baby girl gets lost too?"

Logan scoffs, disappointed. "..She wouldn't get lost.."

"She would if the scent kept being blown away.."

Wade adds, seeing the 'god damn it, he's right.' look on the old mans brow.

He lets out a large sigh. "...I don't want any help."

"Oh well too fucking bad bucko, I'm gonna go pack my snow suit!"

"No! I mean... I don’t want any help from THEM.."

"No promises. I'm not letting poor Susie die just because you have a grudge. Now put your fish in the freezer and lets go! They're coming to pick us up-"

"I ain't flying!!" Logan snarls, watching as his lover ran off, having a deep feeling that he would be in the air shortly..

[ingo-ingoing-ingone]

Hey!!

Got word that apparently someone might be impersonating me on discord?? What the fuck.

Anyways this is my actual discord info. I have ONE DISCORD ACCOUNT and anyone else is not me

Discord still has the "originally known as" feature, so please use that if you get any messages from "me" that are saying fucked up shit or trying to scam you :/

[forcebookish]

had to stop taking the new adhd medication but the good news is i can drink coffee and iced tea again

[best-enemies]

I've reached season 5 on my CSI rewatch and I'm a few episodes past "Swap Meet", where a woman is murdered after attending a swing party with other couples from the neighbourhood. Near the end of the episode there's a moment that made me jump from my seat:

(Grissom walks up to Sara and takes the seat next to her. He's holding two cups. He hands her a cup of tea.)

[INT. POLICE DEPARTMENT - BRASS' OFFICE]

Erin Brady: Everybody fantasizes about other people. (She glances at Grissom.)

Even you, Mr. Grissom. A neighbor, a friend ... girl at the office.

[INT. POLICE DEPARTMENT - HALLWAY]

(The door opens. Paul Brady walks out of the hallway. Erin Brady walks out into the hallway. Sara is sitting in the hallway chair watching them. She watches as they meet and kiss.)

(Grissom walks up to Sara and takes the seat next to her. He's holding two culps. He hands her a cup of tea.)

LIKE!!!!!!!

Right after Erin ends her sentence with 'girl at the office', the first time Sara and Grissom meet again, he brings her tea. This might be an innocent interaction but to me it seemed like a nod to this relationship they have where both are into each other, know about the other's feelings, but can't/won't do anything about it (although Sara has kind of given Grissom an ultimatum). I don't know if it was intentional - I'm guessing it is, because I picked it up immediately. I might or might not have squealed in delight.

[mzannthropy]

Long post or whatever, OP seems to be an inactive account so they won't mind.

Thanks 💌

If I say I'm afraid to post what I feel like and you ask me why, I wouldn't be actually able to answer (but it's like that with fear--what are you afraid of?) Like, nobody will die bc of what I posted. I can't keep it inside either so I put like million caveats so that no one gets offended... lol. (I have a bit of a baggage wrt to things I like, from my teenage years.)

When I became an active Sam Claflin fan, during the pandemic, I looked up his name on social media, and on here too, and saw how everyone only cared about Me Before You and Finnick. So I knew I would have to be on my own. Don't get me wrong, Finnick's cool, doesn't matter how I feel about Hunger Games--which I will always battle with--but surely there's more to Sam than that? For general public, okay, after all Sam keeps himself low-key, but when even his own fandom can't recognise how fantastic he is in everything else he does? Journey's End was one of the first films I watched after I started following him and was mindblown, like that's an Oscar winning performance--and yet not a peep from anyone. So I started posting about him myself, eventually @jesstasticvoyage found me, but last year, everything around DJATS made me retreat back into my shell and I even questioned whether I should continue. Heck, I questioned my own sanity, I thought I was having a psychosis or something... Soccer Aid was a life saver, then we heard about Monte Cristo and all was well again. Though the crisis comes back every now and then (and I don't mean the one I had over not being able to watch Bagman, bc I took that with humour and took a trip to Haworth to touch grass and came face to face with a road named Dimples Lane... clearly sign from the universe. And I got to see Bagman in the end anyway.)

But what I wanted to say, regarding your last tags: women definitely need to stop fucking apologising for everything AND women need to get some fucking audacity. Like you say, men always confidently proclaim what they think. It's not a skill you just wake up with one day, so it needs work. I've been thinking about how to make myself less sensitive, actually I'm contemplating posting on twitter again, but this time not about politics (that's how I used it before) but about things I like, like Sam and films and books and cats and quotes etc. I'll see.

Oh and what are the Spanish and French words used instead of "chemistry"? Both are such pretty languages! One user here suggested "alchemy" which sounds good. I know "chemistry" is a real term in acting (also in music, apparently) but it's not used the way shippers think it is. Actors need to have chemistry with everyone, not just the ones that play romantic interests. It's a disservice to both of them to reduce their performance to just "chemistry". Sam learned to play a whole fucking instrument, lost a lot of weight, learned a new accent... and yet all these clowns have to say is kemmystreeee. And that's if they're not ageist about him. Someone reblogged one of my Sam Monte Cristo posts with "thank god he is looking hot again" in the tags... just. Headdesk.

Sam Claflin and Holliday Grainger in ‘Any Human Heart’ (2010)  

[thedreadvampy]

it's been a strange arc so far

when I was 19-21 and having an extremely imbalanced relationship with someone in their mid 30s I was like 'we are both adults so the fact that this is fucking me up is my fault'

when I hit my late 20s and saw how young people in their late teens and early 20s seem now I was like 'oh wait I was so fucking young I didn't know shit about my own limits or about managing relationships and I don't know why someone in their mid to late 30s would be into that except for nefarious purposes'

the weird bit is now I'm into my 30s - not even that far into my 30s - and while I still wholeheartedly believe that last thing about how young (and self destructive) 20 year olds are, I'm also kind of like 'huh, actually nobody I know that age has their shit remotely together and frankly the reason this fucked me up is because NEITHER of us knew what the fuck we were doing it how to cope, for different reasons and at different life stages, and there probably wasn't any malice or intent to control as much as there was Blind Flailing.'

[carlyraejepsans]

I'm not gonna reblog the post because it's so long it would break my dash, but i would REALLY recommend you check out this incredibly good thread about transmisoginy, TERFs, radfeminism and its radicalization process, the mentality behind it and correlated misconceptions/polarization issues that make deradicalization so hard.

warning for discussion of transphobia, (specifically transmisoginy), racism, rape, and graphic written descriptions of FGM (female genital mutilation)

[loverboybrightsideghost]

"reblog for something lgbt to happen to you" at this point i'd be grateful if something straight happened to me

[altruistic-meme]

me: *existing*

my brain: hey heres another fic idea!!! and another!!!! oh wouldn't it be so cool if you wrote this??? wouldn't you LOVE to plan this fic out??? you should definitely plan this one, i promise you don't even have to write it ;) [<- is lying, knows that i'll want to write it even more if i plan it]

[loumauve]

the goddamn toast water post just made me utter "history is fucking real" in the most solemn and serious tone of voice, out loud, to myself, in the goddamn bathtub

[aimarann]

I want my gf to come back home I can't sleep without her and I'm so tired I'm gonna cry