#there was something else behind this that he can't really point out to

[thaatdigitaldiary]

you belong to somebody else

paige bueckers x fem oc

disclaimer before we get into all the pizzazz, this is my first time writing smut, i can say it better than i can write it. i tried to be as descriptive as possible but you freaky frogs prolly gon eat it up anyways. love yew🤫 | BASED ON THE SONG BY DEJ LOAF, it slaps, tune in

influencer kaia brown was constantly going through the motions with her douche of a boyfriend. as a bisexual girl, she’s dated both men and women, but none THIS BAD. kaia’s bestfriend paige can’t stand her boyfriend, and needless to say she can’t wait till she can finally treat her right.

angst, arguing, use of a homophobic slur, underage drinking, verbal abuse (tw), drinking, SMUT, strap usage, fingering, oral, aftercare, dirty talk, paige being possessive don’t we love that, happy ending yw

and with that enjoy🙂‍↕️ (paige and kaia's povs will be switching at some points!) THIS IS REALLY LONG! hope u don’t mind!

"paige get the angles right." kaia said to her sternly, as paige couldn't get the perfect picture of kaia for her instagram feed. "kai, i'm quite literally the best photographer you've ever had. quit doubting me, sit there nd' look pretty." kaia scoffs, trying to find a different pose. she dragged paige to a nearby park to take pictures on her digital camera in front of the sunset. "okay kai i see you, do a lil' twirl or sum," and kaia twirls around, paige catching every moment. they look back at the pictures and smile. "alright i guess you get the angles right sometimes." kaia trying to give her credit. "that's what she said," paige says, laughing hard as ever, making kaia shake her head of embarrassment. "quit being corny before i block you." kaia says, trying to be threatening, but paige quickly shuts that down. "please kai, you can't live without me." truth is, kaia really couldn't, paige was her everything, she cared for her, loved her, protected her, and overall made men insecure by looking down on them. it was honestly attractive. "watch me." this comment making paige roll her eyes. "sure kaia."

paige dropped kaia off back at her apartment, and kaia transfers the digital camera photos to her macbook, ready to post later. kaia's phone rings, and it's her boyfriend daniel. kaia hadn't been dating him long, he was kind of a douche. "hey beautiful, we still on for tonight?" he says to kaia, and for some reason, his voice alone makes her roll her eyes. "i guess, what time?" she says really bland, which doesn't go unnoticed, and he tries to flirt with her to "lift the spirits". "so uh, whatcha wearing tonight? i bet it's sexy." he thinks he's so fucking clever, kaia thought. "daniel, what time." she annoyingly tells him, so he can get to the damn point. "is 8 good, i get off work at 7:30 and i can co-" he starts rambling, before kaia cuts him off. "that's fine daniel, i'll talk to you later." she hangs up the phone before he can even say "goodbye", not that she cared.

most people felt bad for daniel, as kaia wasn't the nicest to him. he wasn't innocent though. the only reason kaia is staying is because they got drunk one night and hooked up, and she was worried he would out her. on the other hand, regardless of what dirt he may or may not have had on kaia, paige fucking hated him. the way he looked at kaia, nothing but lust, waiting for the moment to get her alone and use her. paige wanted kaia to end things with him, telling her she'd stay ten toes behind her if he even mentioned her name, waiting for that moment to finally tell him off. kaia was too beautiful for that man, he looked like an accessory.

it was currently 7:36 pm, and kaia started getting ready for her "date" with daniel. did she wanna go? no, but she gave in and she kept her promises. most of the time. that was until her phone rang, the contact "p babyyy 🏀👩🏼‍❤️‍👩🏽” popping up, and she answers with no hesitation. "heyyyy p," kaia says, dragging out the y's, something she did often when talking to paige. "hey pretty girl. so listen, kk nd' them were gonna go to a get together at somebodies house, she sent me the addy and i wanted you to pull up." paige really wanted kaia there with her. they went everywhere together. "p i can't, daniel asked me to go onna date with him tonight." kaia honestly wanted to ditch him, paige feeding into that idea. "man fuck him, that rando can have you another time, i miss you." speaking softer when she expresses she missed the curly haired girl, slighty changing kaia's mind. "p you just saw me a couple hours ago. but how about this, i go to this date, say i have an emergency in the middle of it, then i'll drive to wherever the party is, and i'm yours for the rest of the night." paige gave into the idea, as long as she got to see kaia. "don't take too long, he doesn't deserve allat time, and don’t drive here, i’ll come get you.” she tells kaia, before the call disconnects.

there was a knock at kaia's door, she took a big sigh and put her left foot in her heel, opening the door to see a smug look on daniel's face, and she wants to puke. "hey you," he says going in for a kiss, but kaia rejects. "just did my makeup, wouldn't wanna ruin it!" she nervously chuckles and grabs her purse, walking behind daniel. "so uh-, where are we going?" she asks, hoping there'd be an easy exit wherever the date was gonna take place at. she was in for it.

paige's pov

"az, what time was the party supposed to start? i'm tryna see when kaia needs to ditch." she says, yelling across the dorm. azzi walks into the living room where paige was, and sits down next to her. "when are you gonna admit that you like kaia? i mean ditching her boyfriend? paige isn't that y'know, kind of insane?" azzi asks her, fully concerned for the state of kaia's relationship. "he's a dick, he doesn't even like her like that az. trust, she's gonna break up with him eventually." azzi rolls her eyes. "and you know this how?" paige shows azzi the messages between her and kaia, where kaia states how she's only with him so he doesn't expose her. "okay yea he's fucked, do what you want." paige rubs her hands together, and clicks the phone icon on kaia's contact.

kaia's pov

"hello?" kaia says, happy paige finally called, meaning this escape plan was in motion. and plus, daniel was chugging beers, rambling and bragging the whole night, causing kaia to really get sick of him. "i can hear him inna background, you can go ahead and ditch him. me, az, kk, and yanna getting ready here. you ready for me to come get you?" paige says in one breath, making kaia smile at the thought of seeing her best friend again. "yeah that'll be good, he can't even hear me cause he's talking about himself. save me please." kaia says laughing. paige was always her savior, taking her away from situations she didn't wanna be in. "i just grabbed my keys and you got my location, when you see me getting close just walk out, and if he say sum i gotchu. i'm onna way." she tells kaia, happy to be that knight in shining armor for her. "thank you p, and okay." they hang up and daniel is. still. rambling.

kaia watches paige’s location the whole time daniel is talking, waiting patiently for her best friend to swoop in and save her from this disaster of a date, with a man she doesn’t even love. kaia tried to love him, seriously. but she knew that he was in this for the wrong reasons. he was a manipulator. and paige waited for the moment he’d slip up, so she could ruin him.

kaia tells daniel she has an emergency to tend to, and she gets up from the table. he immediately follows behind her, not being able to walk in a straight line from all the beers he’s inhaled, pissing kaia off more. that didn’t matter though, because either way, she was getting in paige’s car. she waits patiently and sees paige’s car pull up and park, and the 6ft blonde gets out. she’s wearing black sweats with her nike pro boxers peeking, and a white tee. her lanyard is hanging from her pants pocket, and keys in hand. “you ready?” she asks kaia, who nods her head profusely. paige saw daniel running after kaia, looking wasted. she shakes her head, and places her hand on kaia’s back, leading her to the car. “this is your so-called emergency? you’re full of shit.” daniel says, yelling across parking lot, making both girls stop in their tracks. “the fuck did you just say?” paige yells back, eyebrows furrowed from the anger caused by him yelling at her best friend. “paige leave him, he’s fucking drunk, and i don’t want him trying anything.” kaia wanted to keep the peace, until daniel uttered these few words. “i always knew you were a dyke paige. you want her all to yourself huh?” and with that kaia turns around, and starts walking towards daniel. she slaps him, causing him to stumble back a little, from the shock, and from the alcohol he consumed. “keep her name out your fuckin’ mouth daniel. you don’t know shit about paige.” he scoffs and walks away defeated, and kaia turns in her heels back towards paige’s car.

“i fucking hate him paige.” kaia starts ranting about how much of a bitch he is, wishing things were different. “you really know how to defend a lady huh?” paige says laughing, trying to lighten the mood and cheer kaia up before they arrive at the dorms. “he didn’t have the right to bring you into anything, i don’t know why he’s always so fuckin’ jealous of you.” paige shrugs, “i mean look at me and look at him, he’s like-, what 5’7? cmon kaia, you’re almost taller than him in heels.” they both laugh at paige’s comment, but kaia is still so upset.

the girls make a stop to the apartment buildings they stayed at, and paige drops kaia off at hers so she can grab clothes and any makeup she wanted to put on. after that, kaia was gonna drive over to where yanna, azzi, and kk were getting ready, and leave her car since she was riding with paige, and they'd possibly pregame and have some fun before they left.

paige’s pov

azzi noticed my plan worked, and pulled me aside to ask what happened. “az, all imma say is i fuckin’ hate the dude. he was wasted when i came to get her, and even had the nerve to call me a dyke.” azzi’s eyes widened at this information, immediately asking questions. “did kaia say anything? did you do anything to him?” she says, hoping nothing terrible went down. “ian' have to, kai went up and slapped him, and told him keep my name out his mouth. shit was attractive as fuck i can’t lie.” azzi smirked a little, nudging my shoulder. “that’s what i’m talking about, i hope she slaps him harder next time.”

“how do you feel though?” azzi asks me, knowing there’s something on my mind. “shit sucks az, you know i’ve wanted kai forever, but this dude came and fucked with my plans. i can’t wait till she finally lets go, but it’s not that easy.” i express to her. it sucked, but i was one hundred percent willing to wait on kaia. i knew she felt the same way, she didn’t even have to say it. “why is it not easy? he’s already a bitch?” azzi says, laughing. “true, but he’s got dirt on her. they were drunk one night, and they hooked up, and daniel secretly recorded the whole thing. it’s fucked az. i want him gone, it was always supposed to be me and her.” just thinking about it makes me mad, wanting him out of kaia’s life, for good. “oh my god. fuck him, we needa come up with someway to get him outta here, kaia doesn’t deserve that.”

speaking of kaia, she texted paige she was about to walk to kk’s dorm, in which all the girls who were going to the party were there. kaia was already showered and dressed, all she had left to do was her makeup, so she brought her makeup bag along with her. she knocked on the door and of course paige wanted to open it, and the sight before her made her mouth open slighty. kaia was wearing a burgundy skims dress, with gold jewelry layered and stacked everywhere. the tattoo on her shoulder was prominent, a freshly inked butterfly (ofc). her body was glistening, the smell of cocoa butter and vanilla following her around as she walked, driving paige insane. “you good p?” she asks her best friend, smiling so her dimples pop just a little bit more than usual. “i’m good kai, you just look,- really good.” paige couldn’t help herself when it came to kaia, she didn’t give a fuck about her boyfriend, kaia deserved all the compliments in the world. “thank you paigey, and lemme say you don’t look too bad yourself. this fit looks cute on you blondie.” paige had her hair slicked in a bun, a gray graphic tee with gray washed jeans, and silver and purplish-gray colored jordans. her chain sparkled around her neck, and so did the matching tennis bracelet she wore with it. paige and kaia looked fucking good.

all the girls were in the kitchen prepping to pregame, at this point, the whole team was there, and they always loved kaia. “yo kaia! are you pregaming?” kk yelled to her, echoing throughtout the shared space. “nah, i wanna be sober tonight, i can still have fun.” she yells back, going on her phone. 10 missed calls from daniel. she throws her phone on the couch, and paige starts to walk over to sit next to her. “you not drinking? are you good?” she says, knowing kaia was always quick to pregame before a party. “i’m scared he’s gonna show up tonight p. i’m tryna stay sober so i can say what i gotta say to him. i’m tired of being around him, i don’t even care about the recording anymore, he’s fuckin’ toxic.” kaia had genuine fear of what daniel was capable of, but little did she know she was in the safest hands possible. “kai, ma, listen to me. as long as i’m wherever you’re at, he’s not gonna do shit to you. he’s a fuckin’ bum, and if he wants to “confront” you tonight, he can talk to me first. got that?”

paige needed confirmation from kaia to formally go off on daniel if anything went down tonight. “got it paige, i love you, like seriously.” “i love you more kai, you know this.” she hugs kaia, taking her scent and having a chance to feel her warm body, and she loves it. “now go pregame and shit, i still don’t wanna drink tonight.” kaia tells paige, but paige is always willing to make sacrifices. “hell na, if you’re not drinking, i’m not either.” the real reason paige didn’t wanna drink was just to make sure she could see straight; just in case she had to punch daniel in his face.

by this moment, kk was already slightly tispy from her being a lightweight, making the rest of the girls laugh. paige and kaia were sitting on the couch together, play fighting. “paige get off me, you’re gonna mess my makeup up!” kaia tries to get the strength to push the 6 foot tall girl off of her, but paige is all muscle, so she doesn’t budge. “not until you promise me you’re gonna have fun tonight, and forget about him,” she says, watching kaia struggle under her, honestly enjoying it. “okay! okay! i promise,” kaia says, paige finally letting go of her, allowing her to sit back up. “atta girl, i want you to relax and let me handle the other shit, fuck him.”

“yeah, fuck him.”

it was around 10:30 pm, and the girls were all dressed and ready to leave. kaia wanted to ride with paige, with kk and ice coming along. paige played her playlist in the car, everyone knowing every single song, as paige’s playlist was the one played anytime they carpooled. paige couldn’t stop looking at kaia though, her curly hair so voluminous, bouncing everytime she moved slightly, her edges perfectly laid, and her lashes curled to perfection. kaia’s dimples really made paige fold though, the small indentations in her face driving her wild. kk was recording a video for her instagram story, with her, paige, ice, and kaia rapped along to “i like” by g herbo. in the video, paige had her hand on kaia’s thigh while they rapped to song playing, not even thinking anything of it.

they make it to the party, azzi and the others pulling up as well. they all get out the car, and paige walks over to kaia. she stands behind her with her hands ghosting around her waist, leaving goosebumps on kaia’s arms. she loved when paige touched her, even if it was as simple as this. paige guided her to the door, making azzi smirk, because deep down she knows what just might go down tonight. at least she thought so.

everyone makes it to living room, where most of the people were playing games like beer pong, making out, or getting intoxicated. one of the players from the mens team daps up paige and motions her to come talk to the rest of them, so she lets kaia know before she walks off. “kai i’m finna go talk to some of the dudes onna mens team right quick. this ain’t azzi’s typa environment either so you two stick together.” she tells kaia, and she responds with a “okay p,” and walks over to azzi. “hey kaiaboo, you having fun?” azzi asks the girl, her voice always so sweet and kind. “shi i’m tryin’. i just got this weird feeling.” kaia tells the other curly haired girl, slowly starting to confide in her. “look don’t tell paige yet, but i really fuckin’ love her. i’m only with daniel cause’ he’s blackmailing me.” azzi doesn’t even hesitate to hug the girl, already knowing the situation. “honey, don’t worry about him, we got you.” kaia and azzi talk for what seems like hours, having plenty in common.

with kaia’s back turned, azzi had a clear view of the door. kaia was talking about some celebrity following her on instagram the other day, when azzi’s eyes got wider. kaia noticed this, and stopped talking. “az, what’s wrong?” azzi points at the door, and daniel is standing there, looking around, looking for kaia. kaia starts to freak out, worried he’s gonna do something to her, so azzi grabs her hand, and they go looking for paige before he sees her.

azzi and kaia find paige, and tell her that daniel showed up, uninvited.

“what? what the fuck is he doing here? he wasn’t invited.” paige says, pissed off that he was about to ruin everything. “i don’t know p, i guess he watched kk’s story and saw you and kaia.” fuck, paige thought to herself, hating that he wouldn’t just leave kaia the fuck alone. kaia had really bad anxiety, and paige took her hand from azzi’s and brought her close, so she could whisper in your ear. “if he says absolutely anything, i’m ten toes behind you ma.” kaia is lucky to have paige, especially after what happens next.

kaia and paige try to avoid him, moving around the house and finding their group, just in case anything went down. that’s until the one time paige didn’t have kaia’s hand, a tug was felt on kaia’s wrist. “you bitch.” daniel curses at kaia, as she pulls her arm back and out of his grasp, and cursing at him back. “keep your fucking hands off me daniel.” she says, trying to remain calm, because daniel was a hothead. “what’re you gonna do huh, you gon' go get paige? you must really like her huh? are you a dyke too kaia?” kaia was furious at that point, and a crowd started forming around the two. paige had caught the rest of the team up on what the situation was, just so they know to confront daniel, if need be. ice notices the crowd, and hears daniel’s agitating voice belowing. she notices something else too, he looked pissed. paige starts to push people out of the way, to maneuver to the middle. she sees kaia and daniel arguing, and decides to step in.

“who the fuck are you talking to like that daniel? i been told you to keep paige’s name out your mouth, but you can’t quit that shit.” daniel goes to get in kaia’s face, but paige’s tall frame appears, butting into the conversation. “why the fuck are you here?” catching daniel off guard, her height alone making him take a step back from kaia’s face.

“i came here to get my girl.” paige laughs at him. “your girl? pft.” kaia doesn’t intervene, she let’s paige handle it, like she said she would. kaia is slightly standing behind paige, fidgeting with the back of her shirt to try and relax. “she doesn’t want you daniel, and she definitely doesn’t want you here. i think it’s best you just leave her alone, stop wasting your time.” paige feels kaia messing with her shirt, signaling she wants to leave. “you don’t get to tell me what to do about my girl, you dyke bitch.” and without any hesitation, paige shoves daniel, causing a loud thud.

she grabs kaia’s hand and leads her to the car, where the rest of the group follows. kaia starts tearing up from the situation, wholeheartedly believing she was doomed, and her reputation was over. “i’m gonna take her home,” paige tells her teammates while holding kaia and leading her to the passenger seat. paige gets in the car as well, and kaia immediately breaks down. “paige he’s gonna ruin my reputation, i fucking made the mistake of sleeping with him, i was drunk and i didn’t know what i was doing.” kaia says between sobs. “hey-, ma look at me. you’re gonna be okay, this is all gonna be okay.” she expresses while the car is still in park, wanting to make sure her girl her bestfriend was okay before driving off.

paige wipes kaia’s tears and embraces her. she rubs her back, something that soothed kaia. “now talk to me, how do you know he has the video?” paige asks, trying to get the whole truth. “he told me. when we hooked up i was drunk, when i got back home he texted me and told me if i didn’t date him, he’d post whatever he recorded of us.” paige’s blood boils at this, but then she tries to put two and two together. “have you ever seen the video he claims he has?” kaia responds with shaking her head no. “he never showed me, i don’t even know how he would record, his phone was broken the night we hooked up, so he was using mine, but i was drunk so i’m not sure.” kaia was trying her best to recall what happened that night. “alright let’s backtrack kai. his phone was broken, there was no possible way of him recording you, especially if he was using your phone the whole time you were together.” kaia takes in this information, putting two and two together. there was no video, daniel lied to her. kaia is pissed. fucking pissed.

paige puts the car in drive, ready to pull up on daniel and fuck him clean up. he fucked with kaia’s feelings for so long, making her feel like shit every fucking day, and paige hated seeing kaia cry. kaia was two steps ahead of paige though, dialing daniel’s number in her phone and pressing the green call button. he picks up.

“you running back to me now?” he says slyly, trying to fuck with kaia’s mental. “you’re a lying bitch daniel.” daniel acts clueless, “don’t know what you’re talking about.” he sighs, and kaia says something he wished never happened, as the act was over. “there’s no fucking video, and i know it. you took advantage of that fact that i was drunk, proving you’re a pussy daniel.” he stays quiet, and kaia decided to be petty. “you’re not even smart enough for blackmail. shit, you don’t even know how to fuck right.” daniel goes to speak again but she hangs up, leaving daniel in shock and embarrassment, and paige looks at her with a proud expression. “that’s my girl.”

paige takes kaia back to her apartment, not wanting her to be alone. they walk to paige’s door, while paige carries kaia’s purse, and keeps a tight grip on her hand. paige unlocks her door, and they both step inside. they flop on the couch and sit in silence, trying to recuperate from the whole situation. that’s until kaia breaks the silence. “p, there’s so much i need to say.” she says while looking paige in her eyes, her eye shape seductive, turning paige on. “good thing i love listening to you talk.”

“you know it was always gonna be you right?” kaia expresses to paige, something she wanted her to know from the start. “the night i got drunk was me trying to forget my feelings for you. hell, i’ve been in love with you forever paige, i just didn’t have the gut to tell you. it was obviously a stupid thing to do looking back, but i want you paige. i need you.” kaia felt vulnerable, hoping (praying), paige felt the same.

“i need you, kaia. more than anything. i’ve always been in love with you mama, i just wanted to wait for the right moment, because you deserve something special.” this statement makes kaia blush, and with that paige continues. “you’re smart, fuckin gorgeous, and most importantly you’re my whole world. i’on know what the hell i would do if you weren’t in my life.” kaia maintains eye contact with paige then pops a question.

“can i do something?” kaia asks.

“anything you want mama.”

and with that, kaia kisses paige, the kiss is passionate, and fuckin hot. paige pulls kaia in her lap, hands glued to her ass. “fuck mama, i’ve waited so fuckin' long for this.” paige says between kisses, making kaia wetter by the second. kaia begins to grind down on paige’s lap as paige squeezes every ounce of her ass. they’re breathing gets harder the more they kiss, the kisses getting heavier and sloppier, making paige crave more. she slaps kaia’s ass, causing her to moan at the sudden sting, paige loving it. “i need you paige,-“ kaia’s says so desperately, and that’s all paige needed to hear. she picks kaia up, still kissing her, as she leads them to her room.

she gently places kaia on her perfectly made bed, bound to get messed up by the end of tonight. “what all you need from me ma, you gotta talk to me, you can do that can’t you?” kaia nods, but paige shuts that down. “words baby.” kaia starts to speak, but is quickly cut off by paige inserting her knee between her legs. “fuck-, fuck, okay okay, i want you inside of me paige, please.” paige leans down and kisses her neck, figuring out shortly after doing so that this was kaia’s sensitive spot, and this act alone was getting her soaked. “you want me inside you baby, you think you can take that?” she taunts kaia, teasing her was enjoyable. “i can take it p-, shit, i promise.” kaia can’t even keep her composure, but she wanted all of paige. “take this shit off first.” paige demanded, referring to the skin tight dress kaia had on, showing off her figure, making paige wetter than ever.

kaia gets up and shimmies the dress down, the fabric pooling at her ankles. paige noticed kaia didn’t have on a bra, her tits sat perky and perfect, a sight to see. kaia grabs paige’s hand, pulling her back on top of her. “give me everything you got baby.” kaia snatches paige’s shirt off, and paige unbuttons her jeans, leaving her in her black sports bra and boxers. paige attaches her mouth to kaia’s tits, kissing and sucking on them softly, slowly working her way down to her naval. “you’re so pretty mama, whole body just beautiful.” kaia moans at this, she wants more. “p.” she says. “yea princess?”

“please fuck me.”

paige kisses lower and lower kaia’s gorgeous body, making sure to cherish every inch of it, giving it the love it needs and deserves, the love kaia deserves. paige pulls kaia’s lace thong down with her teeth, letting it fall down her legs. she kisses around kaia’s sweet spot, before she licks a stripe on kaia’s soaking cunt. this makes kaia moan loud, music to paige’s ears. the blonde then thrusts her tongue into kaia’s pussy, feeling tugs at her hair by the curly haired girl, letting paige know this was the best head she’s ever gotten. she has to make this even better, and with that paige rubs at kaia’s clit, causing an erotic moan from her mouth, “fuck! paige don’t- shit,- don’t fuckin’ stop,” she’s getting close, paige knows this. she moans in kaia’s cunt, the vibration from her mouth causing kai’s back to arch, and she grips paige’s sheets. “let go for me mama, you can do it.” those words make kaia babble, “im close p, so fuckin’ FUCK, paige please, i’m gonna cu-,” kaia can’t even get the rest of her words out before her stomach twists and turns, and she releases all over paige’s tongue. “yea baby, that’s my girl, let it all out.” kaia is shaking, but paige isn’t done with her. she kisses the distraught girl, letting her taste herself.

paige holds kaia for a second, letting her come down from the high, before she fucks her stupid. “i’m not done with you, you know that right?” paige tells kaia, eager to have her fucked out by the end of tonight.

“i’m gonna take all you give me paige.”

paige walks to her closet, grabbing a black box from the top shelf. kaia knows what it is, but she looks up at paige innocently. paige takes off her boxers and her bra, giving kaia a show, not that she minds. “you’re beautiful p.” this made paige blush, praise being something she loved. kaia watches as the girl puts the harness on, biting her lip at how fucking good paige looked with it on her hips, she wanted all of it.

“lay back for me mama.” and kaia quickly obliges. paige teases her, pushing the tip in and out of kaia’s cunt, making her whine and beg, needing paige inside of her immediately. “please p, stop teasing me. baby please?” paige couldn’t say no to kaia’s sweet voice, listening to the girl beneath beg for her dick, driving her crazy. paige pushes the purple dildo inside kaia’s pussy, inch by inch, making sure she doesn’t hurt her. “shitttt-,”. paige loves hearing kaia moan, especially knowing it was because of her. “this pussy loves me baby, look how well she’s taking me,” she states, starting to thrust slowly inside of kaia’s cunt, not speeding up until she’s ready. kaia grabs paige’s arm, needing stability, as paige’s pace sped up. “shit p, fuck me harder, please?” kaia says, digging her nails in paige’s arm, feeling her climax approaching. “i’m close baby please… please,”. paige stops and slowly pulls out, leaving kaia confused and whiny. “why’d you stop baby, i said please?” kaia looked up at her, trying to seduce her into putting it back in. “turn around and arch that shit ma, you’ll get what you want.”

kaia is in doggystyle on paige’s bed, the covers lifting and bunched up from kaia’s grip. paige teases kaia’s entrance again, leaving kaia helpless and begging. she slowly slips the tip in, and suddenly kaia pushes back on it herself. “fuck ma,- shit, you eager huh?” paige wasn’t expecting this from kaia. “tired of your teasing baby, i gotta do what i fuck-, gotta do.” paige slaps her ass, and kaia begins to throw her ass back onto the toy, hers and paige’s hips colliding with one another. “yeah mama, that’s it. throw that shit on me, fuck. gonna make me cum huh? fuckin' take this dick baby cmon,” paige encouraged her, while kaia was fucking herself dumb on paige’s strap, wanting to make paige cum so bad. “you like this p? shit-,” kaia was about let go again, speeding up to make sure they both came at the same time. “fuck ma i’m close.” paige grabs kaia’s hips and pounds into her, making both of them cum instantly.

they both collapse on paige’s bed, fucked out and out of breath. “you did so good mama,” erupting out of paige’s mouth. “i’m not done paige, lemme ride you.” kaia said, her voice alluring and sexually exciting. “well fuck then ma, come ride my shit, show me how you do it.” kaia climbs on top of paige, straddling her, hovering over the strap, inserting it in herself. kaia let’s out a pornographic moan, making paige smile. “ride that shit cmon, that's it,” she says, as kaia begins to roll her hips on the strap, causing it to bump against paige’s clit, stimulating the both of them. “you’re so big baby, fuck-. you feel good p?” kaia says, smiling at paige, trying to get herself together. “fuck yeah ma, right there. you’re fucking mines, you hear me? say it.” kaia rode faster, keeping a rhythm going until she decided she wanted to bounce on it. “i’m yours paige, all fucking yours.” paige couldn’t get enough of this girl. “FUCK kaia, don’t fuckin’ stop.” this movement caught paige off guard, and she grabs kaia’s hips and guides her to keep the pace, up and down.

kaia sat up straight and continued to ride, flipping her hair to the side, leaving paige in awe. this girl was stunning. the way her lips were slightly swollen from the makeout on the couch earlier, her curls still perfectly finger coiled, bouncing with her as she rode on paige’s dick. paige was so happy to take care of her like this. “shit p you close?” she says, reaching her limit. “yeah baby im close, let that shit go mama, i’m here i gotchu.” both paige and kaia cum again, kaia’s legs shaking uncontrollably, falling into paige. “shhh, shh, i got you mama, relax, you’re good.” they lay like this for a while, catching their breaths.

“i love you kaia. i promise you, i’ll show you real love.” paige tells the girl whos slowly drifing to sleep. she kisses her forehead, and before kaia falls asleep she tells paige,

“you always have.” paige smiles at this, and they fall asleep, leaving clean up for later. kaia and paige were meant for each other, even though it took a bad situation to realize it. they loved each other, and kaia no longer belonged to somebody else. she was all for paige.

HI BABIES! i hope you enjoyed this! it took me some time to get the courage to write smut because it’s time consuming, but this was fun! part two to open your eyes will be out soon enough, just bare with me as i’m trying to build more plot. let me know how you liked this! 🙂‍↕️ (one thing about it, i can get freaked out too amen)

tags: @rosemariiaa, @mrsarnold, @bueckerscore, @patscorner, @sierrale8ne, @wbbgetsmewetter, @juspeaks

love you guys! gif by the infamous @ohbueckers

[partycatty]

may i request makeup sex with johnny and he's whiny and pathetic and very sweet <3

i just got the cutest idea :3

johnny cage > sorry, not sorry

makeup sex with johnny turns into a hospital trip... but you're not all that sorry.

warnings: nsfw, mild gore not really, more like a small injury, ur going crazy style

notes: i promise i'm still here, just mainly on twitter lately! oh, and i have a tiktok and discord server now!

[ masterlist ]

• johnny, as per usual, had to be right. he wasn't always, but being wrong ticked him off. for better or for worse, you were really good at being right. better than him.

• "clearly, your memory's going," his arms are crossed, lip twitching in mild frustration. "the entire twist ending was that coraline only dreamt about the other world. that was the whole point of the — don't look at me like that."

• "i'm not looking at you like anything," you throw your hands up defensively. "i just know you're wrong. she would just wake up in the bed, so... why are we even arguing about this?"

• "because you have the attitude of someone who knows what they're talking about."

• "and you have the attitude of a man sleeping on the couch tonight."

• "it's not my fault you're being dumb!"

• "jonathan."

• "uh oh. full name."

• he spends the rest of the evening apologizing to you, practically crawling up your shirt in an attempt to get you to forgive him. similarly to a pathetic dog, he trails behind you with big eyes, hoping to warm the cold shoulder.

• partially due to your pettiness and partially because you were starting to find it amusing, your silence carried into the night. crawling into bed, you made it clear that being the big spoon was off the table. what wasn't, in johnny's eyes, was the little spoon.

• he shimmies over to you, the sheets swishing obnoxiously as he makes his existence clear. a warm, strong hand finds its way to your hip, squeezing the flesh tenderly.

• "still mad?" he whispers in the darkness.

• "you've spent all day trying to get me to forgive you without even saying 'sorry,'" you reply lowly.

• he thinks for a moment. "i'm sorry. can i make it better?" his fingers dance their way up your shirt, and then down your pajama bottoms, massaging circles into your skin. "i promise i'll be good."

• your stomach twists — and your core pulses — hearing such filthy words fall from his lips so suddenly. damn him and his honey tongue, his sweet words and oh-so charming voice that always makes you weak in the knees when you try to be stone.

• "now?" you try to sound annoyed, but the noise sounds more like a chipping resolve, a pathetic excuse for anger that leans closer to curiosity. "you can't think of anything better?"

• "can you?"

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

• he had you there. somehow, someway, johnny was now below you, squeezing your thighs lovingly as you hovered above him.

• "you'll suffocate," you protest nervously, running a hand through his soft locks. "i may still be mad at you but i don't want to kill you."

• "you won't," his voice is half here, half somewhere else as he fixates on the sight of your pantsless form, your cunt embarrassingly eager for attention already when all you had done prior is made out. "if i told you i only worked out for this very moment, would you believe me?"

• "if you said it convincingly enough, superstar," you tug on his hair and he whines, a desperate needy whine that makes his own hips buck and his grip tighten on the chub of your thighs. unable to wait a moment more, he tugs you downward, landing your pussy directly onto his open mouth that hungrily latches to you like you offered his last meal.

• at first, you're hesitant to apply more weight into his face, but you feel his nose bump into your clit as he laps at your hole and something inside of you stirs in the most twisted way.

• johnny eats you out like an absolute starved man, a king of head as he proclaims himself to be. his hands climb up your body, drawing reddened lines down your bare skin as he grips onto something, anything to ground himself from this heavenly experience. to him, your pussy was liquid gold, the finest meal, and he would do absolutely anything for a taste of how aroused you were for him and him only.

• you instinctively rock your hips, sliding yourself across his face and johnny does his best to accommodate, providing just enough attention to whatever he has immediate access to to make you moan and writhe, jolting and twitching for more.

• "mmph — fuck, i forgive you," you breathe out an airy laugh as you massage his scalp. attempting to lean your torso back, you grab hold of his cock. it's almost painfully hard and weeping, twitching for attention. he deserved it, after his "apology."

• johnny immediately reacts to the sudden hold, reeling in the way you stroke his length. he groans into your cunt, causing you to rock unintentionally harder than before and snap your hips forward with a cry out. it inspires him to wrap his lips around your clit and suck, flicking his tongue back and forth with so much speed he might whine about his jaw being sore the next morning.

• you feel your orgasm quickly approach, chasing up on you like a very abrupt finish line. you attempt to warn johnny but you could only whimper and spew out incoherent vowels, now completely dismissive of how much weight you were now applying to his face.

• "j-johnny—" crack!

• johnny cries out in pain, tapping your bare ass as a sign to lift yourself up, a silent safe word. immediately obliging, you sheepishly climb off of him, now sitting by his face and leaning over it in concern.

• he's grinning, grinning like an absolute fool, except he's now covered in blood. well, a mix of you and blood. the source is easy to find, as his nose is now a distorted shape and horrifically bruised.

• "did..." your arousal fades away and is replaced by embarrassment and horror as you realize what you'd done. johnny seems so pleased about it all, brows furrowed in pain but smile as bright as ever.

• "i forgive you," he grins, reaching up to wipe his face. "just help me realign it."

• "realign your nose? it's broken, dude, we should go to a hospital."

• "funny how you call someone whose face you sat on 'dude,'" he mutters under his breath as he feels the shape of his bridge. "yeah, realign. done it tons of times. you think in all my years of martial arts, i've never broken anything?"

• you want to yell at him again, smack him, ask if he's okay and kiss him at the same time. your man, johnny fucking cage was the embodiment of the word "goofy" and he showed it in the oddest ways. only he would be so fucking pleased about it all, cheesing this hard while covered in blood. it was almost... kind of hot.

• a chuckle slips past your lips, then an ugly snort that makes his eyes widen in amusement. unable to fully process the day you've had, you double over in laughter, slapping his chest as you cackle. johnny joins in, his laughter chiming like silver bells. even his "ugly" laugh was the prettiest.

• "i'm sorry for calling you dumb earlier," he repeats, wiping his face with a giggle. "i really am."

• "and i'm sorry for breaking your nose by sitting on it," you reply, leaning over to place a kiss to his temple. "sorry... not sorry."

• "ha, ha," he brushes you off, going to scrunch his nose but instead wincing in pain. "i didn't think you'd go all popclaw on me, doll. i'm lucky i kept my head."

• "consider that a warning."

• "right..." he trails off. "we... should probably actually go to the hospital."

[daydreamerwoah]

Love Through It All (Alternate Ending - Different Character Death)

tw: mentions of cheating, mentions of divorce; hurt; angst; anger; sadness; arguing; crying; mentions of therapy/counseling; violence; guns; injury; main character death; a violent Ghost

Please read Part 1 for my author notes for the beginning of this story if this is your first time here.

Had someone ask for a different alternate ending where another character dies so here it is :)

*This picks up from part 13 in italics*

The moment the video stopped, you locked eyes with Simon. Your puffy eyes made him internally broken, but his facial expression hadn't changed, and you didn't know if he was upset that you had gotten revenge for cheating on you... or if it was something else. You wanted to say that it meant nothing. That you were drunk and fucking mad at him... but you couldn't say shit with the tape still over your mouth.

"I have to say, she sounds.. so damn good. Doesn't she?" Jax teased as he asked everyone in the room. Even with Andrei not responding, since he was the one who had his tongue on you, Jax smiled at Simon like he had won or something, "How does it feel?" He walked and stood behind Simon as he leaned down so his face was almost next to his, looking at you, "Tell her." He demanded.

Simon's eyes never strayed away from yours as you continued to cry. The look on his face hadn't really changed, but his eyes told you exactly how he felt. The regret that ran through his soul.... he wished he could been a better man; a better husband. You didn't deserve any of this.. yet you stayed. You had wanted to work on your marriage even after the ugly truth came out. It was his fault, and he would forever kill himself over it. He would be grateful if you ever forgave him, promising to give you the entire world and more after he so much tore yours apart by cheating.

"I love you," he lowly said, making you cry even more. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart... for everythin'."

"Satisfying, isn't it?.. Finally realizing your mistakes?"

Simon finally tore his eyes away from you and looked at Jax, "Let her go."

He paused, acting as if he was thinking about something, "I thought about it," he teased, "but see... I can't do that. She's knows far too much... much more than our girl Williams," he joked - a terrible one that made both you and Simon shoot him the deadliest glare.

Jax stood up straight and walked over to you, cutting the ropes that freed you from the chair and snatching off the duct tape on your mouth. For a slight second, you almost thought he was going to let you go before he yanked you up by your hair to stand. A whimper left your mouth as the pain ran through you.

"Let her go," Simon told him again.

He chuckled deeply, "We're just getting started."

Suddenly, loud popping noises sounded from the other side of the door, making you jump. Jax - in a panic - swiftly snaked his arm around your neck in a headlock position, pulling you close to him as Andrei and the other guards rushed out of the door to go see what had happened. More gunshots rang out, almost deafening your ears. Simon continued to look at you, the chaos not even phasing him. At least on the outside... on the inside, he was worried. Half secretly thanking whatever god there was that Johnny saw the damn text, but half nervous about whose shots were going off.

Then there was an eerie silence that loomed over the room before heavy footsteps walked closer to the open door. There was more than one set, and you almost began to panic at who was going to walk in there until you saw Simon's friends.

"Let her go," Price commanded, his weapon pointed to Jax.

A menacing chuckle left Jax's mouth, "I will shoot her," he said, pushing the barrel of the gun against your temple, making you whimper.

"Let my wife go Jax," Simon said, making the man narrow his eyes at him.

"No," he growled, "You're going to suffer just like we did! All of you! I will kill every single one of you!"

"Then let's talk 'bout it," Johnny chimed in.

Jax threw his head back a little as he laughed, "Talk about it?.. we're done talking. Your nation should have talked about it four years ago! But now..... now you will pay," he quickly glanced at you, holding that evil smirk as always. He then pointed the gun at his own temple, throwing off the team.

It was hard for any of them to take a shot at him as he swayed you and his body in sporadic moments. Now, 141 were excellent soldiers; the best of the best, but they weren't going to risk taking a shot only for it to hit you instead of the target.

"Don't have a shot Cap," Kyle whispered.

"If you shoot me, she will die," Jax said as he leaned his head to be side by side with yours, "Your choice.... Cap'n."

Another beat went by as he continued to sway you so a shot couldn't be made. Simon and you looked at each other the entire time as he tried to free himself over and over again. But it was no use. He wanted to hold you; to take you away from there. Instead he felt his eyes water slightly and nervousness.

They all continued to try and get the man to lower his weapon, but the more they talked, the more aggravated he got. And the more he spoke, the more they realized who was behind all of it.

Makarov.

That alone made them even more worried.

You even begged him to let you go, but he shouted for you to shut the fuck up, making the men tighten their grips on their guns. He was getting tired of talking.

"Say goodbye to your wife..... Lieutenant" he teased as his arm wrapped harder around your neck.

Time slowed down. It was like you could feel Jax’s energy as his finger started to pull the trigger, and you suddenly felt……… free.

"I love you," you said to your husband before closing your eyes.

"No no no-" Simon barked before a single shot rang out in the room.

It was the last thing you heard. The last thing Simon said before all you saw was darkness. Jax had pulled the trigger, making the gun go off, piercing his temple. Because his head was aligned beside yours, the bullet wasted no time going straight through your head as well, instantly killing you both.

"NO!" Simon shouted as Price and Johnny rushed over to the fallen bodies of you and Jax while Kyle cut away at the ropes that freed Simon from the restraints.

The second he was able to stand up, he leaped out of the chair and all but pushed the other two men out of the way to kneel on the ground, hovering over your limp body.

"Wake up, sweetheart. Wake up. Wake up," he said as he checked for a pulse. Even though Johnny had already done that, he did it again. When he didn't find one, he should have stopped there; should have let you go. But no, he began pressing on your chest with his hands in an attempt to do CPR as if it was going to revive you somehow.

"Ghost," Johnny tried stopping him, but he wouldn't listen.

John tried pulling him away, "Simon-"

"No! She's not dead," he continued to do CPR on you. The lone tears that began to fall as he looked down at your lifeless body caused the men to look at each other in true sadness. They wanted to stop him, but even they felt the pain flow through their hearts at seeing you lay there on the cold floor.

“Please, god no. No,” Simon whispered when he finally gave up, pulling your body into his chest as he hugged you tightly, “I’m sorry. I’m so fuckin sorry, love.” He continued to hug you, thinking for some reason that hugging you would keep your body warm and safe, even in death.

Eventually, when the medics and police came, it was a whirlwind of chaos that engulfed everything from the prostitution ring upstairs to the crime scene in the basement. As your body was placed in the black bag and wheeled outside, Simon followed the coroners all the way until they loaded it into the back of the van. It was then that Simon felt like he could take a long and painful deep breath that still struggled to come out. It was like he had been punched in the lung with an iron fist.

"L.T.," Johnny said as he walked up to him, making him finally tear his eyes away from the van, "M'sorry."

He didn't say anything back as he looked at his comrade. He didn't even know if he could talk at that point. The only thing he could do was stare at the sergeant for a moment before giving a quick nod and walking off, leaving his friend behind looking at him with sorrowful eyes.

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

"How's your week going, Lieutenant?" the chaplain asked Simon.

He softly nodded as he rubbed his hands on his jeans, "Fine."

Fine.

It was the same word he used in almost every session he attended since your death. He knew it was going to be a requirement that he had to attend before he could go on any mission... especially one that involved finding Andrei - who escaped during the incident -, Makarov, or whoever else was involved. But it still didn't make it any easier. He was nothing of fine.

The night after the incident, he went home... home to the apartment, and he drank half a bottle of bourbon before he couldn't take it anymore; he trashed the entire fucking place. He was lucky the neighbors hadn't called the police on him. He was so amped up yet so exhausted that he passed out on the couch, only to wake up and see the damn mess he had made the next morning.

When Kyle came over to check on him that evening, he was beyond embarrassed at the state the place was in, but Kyle - just like the rest of 141 - knew he needed time to heal. So he helped him clean up everything before deciding he'd stay the night just to keep his friend company. The same cycle continued as Price, Johnny, and even Ava and her husband checked on him during the next month or so.

But when he eventually got cleared to head back to work after a few more months, Simon was out for pure blood. Blood that was meant for Andrei.

"Ready?" Price yelled, asking the team as they geared up to land in the drop zone of their next mission.

While Kyle and Johnny responded, Simon only nodded, focused on everything around him. They had been tracking intel for a couple of weeks before Laswell informed them they had a location on Andrei. And it was finally time to capture him.

The skilled soldiers descended onto the ground, their guns drawn as they made their way carefully into the building. One by one, guards were taken down silently, a few getting stabbed in their throats as Simon used his knives for more intimate kills.

But when they busted through the door, finding Andrei shocked and off guard, Simon couldn't help but feel a rush flow through him. His fingers tingled slightly, his heartbeat somewhat calmed down but sped up at the same time, and his feet moved faster than his mind could comprehend before he yanked Andrei up to his feet.

An evil smirk settled on his lips behind his hard-shell skull mask as his eyes narrowed at the shaken man, "Remember me?"

The look on Andrei's face was the complete opposite of what he had just half a year prior. That nonchalant look, the confidence like he won a prize cause he had been with you sexually, was all replaced with fear. Simon couldn't help but remember the video - that was now destroyed because he didn't want anyone to see his wife that way - and he felt a deep chuckle escape his throat.

"Tell me again.. how good did my wife sound?" he said in the most menacing tone that even 141 had never heard him sound like.

Andrei gulped, his eyes widening before Simon sent a forceful punch to his face, instantly knocking him out. The loud crunch of his jaw snapping was heard in the quiet room as his body went limp and fell to the ground.

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

"Where's Makarov?" Price asked Andrei for the second time.

141 had taken Andrei to an unknown location - a building that was used to keep prisoners before they were taken by the CIA or other agencies. Andrei had been tied up the same way Simon was the night you died, and fuck was he enjoying it more than he should. The amount of punches that landed on Andrei's face from his fists would have had anyone else squirming at the sight. But none of the guys flinched when another cracking sound echoed in the room.

Simon sometimes wished he didn't have to be this way; violent. No doubt he had killed many men in his career, but it was always work. A quick shot from his sniper, a knife to the chest of an enemy. But this?.... this was different. Every time he punched him, he would see your dead body, the night he asked you to marry him, the tearful eyes from when you told him you wanted a divorce, the moment you told him you loved him before Jax pulled the trigger... all of it.

"He asked you a question," his deep voice grumbled as he leaned over to be face-to-face with Andrei.

His face was bloodied and bruised to the point that his eyes barely could open, and his lips were beyond swollen. But even then, he tried to smirk up at the men, "You might as well kill me. Nothing I say will get you closer to Makarov," he coughed, a little blood spilling from his mouth. Simon growled before hitting him once again in the nose. It had broken after the first punch, but he didn't give a shit.

After they all knew Andrei probably wouldn't say anything else, Simon left out of the room, pulling his bloodied skeleton gloves off his hands as he walked outside. He pulled out a box of cigarettes, taking one of them out, along with the lighter. He swore he would stop smoking a long time ago, and for a while, he did. For five years of your marriage, he hadn't smoked once. But he couldn't help but pick the habit back up after your death.

As he smoked, he glanced at the wedding ring on his finger. He refused to ever take it off. It was one of the many things that he kept to remind himself of you; of your love. He knew he would never love anyone again the way he did with you, and in that moment the only thing he cared about was avenging your death.

I thought I teared up on Simon's death in that other alternate ending but I think this one hurt a little bit more. Let me know what you all think about this ending :)

Taglist: @kalypsoox @fruitymoonbeams-blogz @kylies-love-letter @xrosegoldwolfx @linaaaaa654 @jessicab1991 @darkravenqueen98 @yazyazali @thychuvaluswife @chloeforde @cownini @ssc7514

[dvilsdesire]

The many faces of Raphael

So I headcanon that Raphael can be seen as two very different people, depending on who is dealing with him. I truly believe that Raphael acts a lot. It is the nature of a devil, to understand their company and possible opponent, to lean into what it is that he could use against someone, and in turn, to lure them in for his own gain. To be manipulative and attractive, to get inside their head and to get under their skin so they can't stop thinking about what he can GIVE them in return for whatever it is that Raphael wants.

Raphael is a devil, and he is a smart devil, with wit and charm to top off that personality of his.

However, the opposite side of that charm and wit, when he is within company and attempting to manipulate someone, is someone far more cold.

Behind closed doors, Raphael, whilst he is still charming in his own way, and intelligent, is also far less performative, straight to the point, and often cold and blunt. Whilst he still has a very creative vocabulary, there is simply no NEED for it behind closed doors, and it would be wasted energy (unless he's getting something out of it).

This also comes down to the power that Raphael holds and can wield. For mortals on the Material Plane, Raphael is generally in control and much stronger. He can manipulate and control the situation a lot easier than he can in the Hells--for he is the only devil in the room (generally speaking), and he can use that to his advantage. Most mortals are terrified of his kind, and he can use that against them, trapping them and making sure to manipulate the situation so he is their only choice. He is a master at trapping others and even making them feel like they are making their own choice, when really... it's the only choice they actually have left because he's likely taken out the competition.

In the Hells, it's obvious that Raphael is not popular (especially if we can go off Haarlep's letter in endgame). As a cambion child, he would have been looked down upon because of that. If we lean into the theory that he's a nepo baby, it means devils would have hated him even more because of the privileges he was given above others, when that's not supposed to be how the laws of Baator work (though this is a theory I'm sort of... 50/50 on considering those laws).

I honestly think most devils see Raphael and think he's incredibly annoying to deal with, a fucking nerd loser who likes to sing (Yurgir pretty much confirms that Raphael sings even if it's for torture purposes), and is... as what most of the fandom has stated, a theatre dork.

This is where I see Raphael's power shift change in how he acts. If he knows he has the advantage over someone, he is that charming and pompous actor, grandeur in nature. However, when that power shifts, I believe Raphael is far less theatrical, and behind closed doors, he likely is a lot cooler and colder in nature.

I consider his relationship, in particular, with Haarlep, to be something far more domesticated (though not without its power games of course, and Raphael's constant need to attempt to stay in control, though Haarlep is far too good at twisting that control).

The art of a devil is being able to manipulate and gain control, to keep that control and bend anything to his whim. Raphael will always see himself as in control, will always be selfish, and will always be a cruel and sadistic, evil devil. Everything he does, he does for his own gain and benefit, whether or not it's control, power, souls, whatever else, and in doing so, he picks the best personality to go with what will get him what he needs, what people will find attractive in him.

But I do believe that behind closed doors, he drops some of that facade as it's simply not necessary, and especially when he is within the Hells, when that power dynamic can change as other devils are around him he must follow the laws of Baator.

[triannel]

HI!!! I adore how you write bill, an my own birthday is tomorrow an im ✨Terrified✨✨,, n was wondering ifff. You could do a sorta angst-fluff where its the readers birthday, but every single one of his birthdays has been awful. And like, now that bills here with the reader he feels like maybe he wont have to Just survive his birthday? That even with his god awful family, it might be ok. Like yeah the meds help, but it doesnt fix anything if the people youre with are why youre fucked yknow? IDK and maybe bill decides to take it upon himself to remove the readers family😋 cant be a neglected middle child w all the responsibilities of the eldest if youre an orphan/J AN I DONT MIND HOW CLOSE YOU STAY TO THIS I LOVE YOUR WRITING ANYWAYS!!

(,,,o n also the reader maybe be a grungey scene kid kinda guy? Lots of piercings, an is more feminine than his parents think he should be, especially as a trans guy, So thats smth. Love bones n bugs and shinies an is like if a dog n crow were a guy,, n supr srry if this is a bad req!! Im jus excited cus i love bill, and im also stressy out cus of my burthdayy >_<“) SO NO PRESSURE TO RESPOND ESPECIALLY IF THIS IS TOO LONG OR ANYTHIMG!!!/gen

-🌙

Hello and Happy Birthday 🌙 anon! I've managed to whip this up and I hope it gives you at least some sort of comfort for today. I really do hope you're situation gets better soon, take care of yourself and have a great day! (Also, don't worry, I never really do mind long asks.)

BirthDate

Oneshot | Bill Cipher x Reader | Fluff/Comfort?

Warnings: Mention of Death, Implied Abuse, Implied Trauma, Implied Bad Birthdays, Bill Cipher lol

Quickly stepping upstairs, you lock yourself in your bedroom, blocking all the noise emenating from downstairs. Exhaling, you drop to your bed, letting yourself relax into comfort of the soft mattress and fluffy pillows.

Only needing rest by this point, you close your eyes. Wanting nothing more than to leave this place behind.

"WHOA, DIDN'T EXPECT TO SEE YOU SO EARLY!" A voice suddenly spoke, booming loudly for you to hear.

Ah yes, there he is. You can't exactly say he's your best pal, but right this moment, you truly do feel more at ease with him than being back there.

"It's honestly been a long day so..." You shrugged for a moment before continuing, "Does it bother you?" You ask, giving a lighthearted smile.

"NOT AT ALL, I WOULDN'T BLAME ANYONE BY WANTING TO MEET YOURS TRULY," he spoke, blinking slowly in a dramatic way to show off his 'impressive looks'.

You chuckle slightly, shaking your head, "I mean, I don't think I'm exactly the one to choose to be here..." speaking your thought aloud just to perhaps tease him a little as you glance at him for a moment before slightly chuckling once more.

You never really did know how you even get to meet him to be honest, he somewhat always manages to show up in your dreams, so overtime you guessed that he might be the one approaching you...That, or it might be because of something else entirely.

For a moment, you thought you saw him become nervous for a second, but maybe it didn't happen at all as you only saw it for less than a second.

"WELL, JUST WANTED TO CHECK HOW YOU'RE DEALING WITH KNOWING YOU'RE ONE YEAR CLOSER TO YOUR DEATH," he flatly said, in a weird, eerie way. He always did love being weird so this type of behaviour wouldn't be uncommon by this point.

"Right... Well, what's the agenda for this time then? Or are you busy?" You ask, avoiding your 'birthday' in question. You'd much rather not talk about your birthday at all to be honest. Not a single one ever went well...

Adjusting his bowtie, he started to speak, "WELL..."

Snapping his fingers, your surroundings completely change.

The rest of your 'dream' went on a relatively good note. Having a cup of tea, playing chess, you both did the usual activities you both would do when meeting in your subconscious mind. But the only thing is that, he seemed to be more...well a bit more charming and noticeably, but only slightly more open to your suggestions on what else to spend time on.

He'd usually take the wheel and drag you through any activity he wants, but this time though, this time he was a bit more...considerate.

Now playing a board game with him, you take the dice and roll it. Getting one, Bill chuckles slightly at your misfortune for a second before taking the dice from you.

He might be treating you like this because it's your birthday, but you'd doubt it... Well at least for now-

"EY, IT'S YOUR TURN TOOTS," he snapped his finger a few times in front of your face.

Chuckling, you mutter an apology before taking the dice. Rolling it in your hands, you then let it go. As the dice lands on the floor, it lands on a six, letting you be the winner for the match.

"Yess, I won!" You raise your arms, smiling back at him.

"CHECK AGAIN." Bill spoke, pointing at your piece. Looking down at the board, you see a newly added tile in front of your piece, moving the finish line out of reach. You raise your eyebrow, giving him the side eye.

"WHAT? I DON'T MAKE THE RULES," he raised his shoulders, smiling mischievously with his eye.

Shaking your head, you chuckled at his silly banter while giving him the dice for his turn.

It's unexpected but, this dorito triangle man truly has made a significance on making your birthday much more bearable. Be it his choice to do it or not, you're honestly just glad to at least have some semblance of joy sprout on this day.

I haven't been able to post for a week because unfortunately I became rlly busy at the moment and it isn't helping that I do tend to procrastinate at times. I'll post more regularly later, but for now at least, I'll post this here. Once again, happy birthday 🌙 anon!

[draculasfavoritewife]

Idle Hands

Summary: Whenever Tony forgets to go to bed, it's always been up to you to bring him back to your side.

Pairing: Tony Stark x fem!Reader

Warnings: Heavy on the softness compared to most of my other stuff; I was in a very sentimental (read: sad and touch-starved) mood back when I wrote this lol. Tony Stark is a TEASE both in word and deed -- I have said it is canon therefore it is now. The feral way he makes me feel should be illegal. Also you can read the...implications of my vague wordings towards the end as tame or as smutty as you wish ;)

I feel the need to mention here that Tony Stark has been my most favorite comic book character since I was but a mere 11 years old. He holds the distinction of being my longest-running fictional crush/object of my obsessions and I love him so deeply and for so many little reasons that I could write a PhD dissertation on him. So please enjoy my little love letter to the man that has held my heart for nearly a decade and a half <3

It's that point of the night where you really can't decide if it should be counted as ungodly late or ungodly early. 4:00 am does tend to scramble the thoughts.

You've been drifting in and out of an uneasy sleep for what feels like forever, and as you roll away from the digital clock display on the wall with an annoyed sigh, you suddenly see why.

The other side of the bed is utterly untouched.

He hasn't been here with you at all.

You sit up, trying to remember if he had plans tonight. The calendar app on your phone has no record of a gala, awards ceremony, board meeting, or anything else that might have taken up his time.

Which means he's probably down in the lab again.

Briefly, you contemplate trying to call him, but you know from experience that he probably isn't taking calls right now, even if FRIDAY tried to put one through for you. He's in that zone that only designing and building can put him in, the one mindset where his too-busy brain is crystal clear and the world at last makes sense to him.

So you pull yourself out of bed, throw one of his old sweatshirts on over your cami and pajama shorts (he keeps the AC cranked all the way whenever it's warm outside) and pad out of the bedroom and on your way downstairs.

His lab is awe-inspiring as always, no matter how many times you see it. The purring thrum of the generators and the comforting pulse of dimmed lights, the heavy, electric feeling of the air itself -- he's described his workspace to you as having a life of its own before, and you can understand so well why time escapes him down here.

You just hope he's not using it to escape from other things as well.

He's deeply absorbed in his work on something at a station opposite the door, and your heart skips a beat even as you smile fondly at the familiar sight. Clad in sweatpants and a black tank through which you can just barely see the blue glow of his arc reactor, he looks all at once more human than usual and like some being from another world entirely.

It's the Stark curse, he told you once, and you recall the wry slant of his lips as he said so. To know you're a god trapped in a mortal body, an infinite mind with a finite number of years to use it. It's the reason behind all his greatest triumphs -- and all his harshest falls from grace.

And somehow, you were lucky enough to be the one he fell in love with.

It still feels like a dream sometimes.

Realizing he isn't going to look up on his own anytime soon, you stifle a yawn and knock sharply on the doorframe.

"Tony?"

He stiffens as if he's been shocked (always a possibility, when he's rewiring) and shoves the safety glasses high up on his forehead. "That would be yours truly. Everything alright?"

With a laugh, you cross the room, warmth rising in your chest as he immediately sets down his tools and steps out from behind the table to meet you. And damn, he always looks good -- he is Tony Stark, after all -- but there's always something about him when his hair gets all unruly and he has THAT look of intense concentration on his face that really drives home to you all over again just how gorgeous he is.

You cuddle up to him, and he kisses the top of your head.

"Asked you a question, Honey."

"Do you know what time it is, Tony?"

There's a prolonged moment of answering silence as he glances up at one of his nearby monitors. "Crap. Well, why are you up?"

Pulling back slightly so you can tease the protective eyewear off his head, you give him a look. "Can't sleep."

An eyebrow tilts; he's playing dumb.

"And that's my problem why?"

"Jerk." You take your time playing with his glossy dark hair, neatening it back up before raking your fingers through it to mess it up again. "Maybe because you love me...?"

"Oh, so you're down here looking for sympathy, got it." He smirks at you, a well-practiced and infuriatingly handsome look. "In that case, sorry about your insomnia, Beautiful. There's melatonin in the drug cabinet upstairs." He snares the safety glasses from your fingers once more and makes as if to return to his work. "Sympathetic enough for you?"

You wrap your arms around his waist from behind, stopping him from going any further, though the smug son of a bitch starts tinkering with his new designs again even through your persistent clinging. It mesmerizes you for a couple seconds, always has, the way his hands work with such delicate precision and dexterity, and you can't help selfishly wishing he would turn them towards other, less...mechanical endeavors at this moment.

He probably would, in all honesty, but Tony Stark is the king of making you work for it. Philanthropic he may be, but some things even you have to earn from him when he's feeling particularly devilish.

"I don't want your pity," you hum, pressing a sleepy kiss to his shoulder. "I was lonely without you."

"Perfectly understandable. I've been told by many that I'm scintillating company. You can, by all means, stay and watch me work, you know. Feeds my humble ego."

You roll your eyes and impatiently reach up under his shirt, feeling his muscles tense at the unexpected coldness of your hands.

That finally gets his attention and makes him turn around. Before you can even fully comprehend it, he's swept his work out of the way and lifted you up onto the worktable instead, restless fingers drawing intricate patterns on your inner thighs, though his eyes never leave yours, crystalline blue pinning your attention to his amused face instead of his very distracting hands.

"That," he grins, "was adorable. Sleepy version of you is so much more demanding. Maybe I should stay down here too long more often."

You try to frown at him, though his sparkling gaze and mischievous touch make that impossible. "How dare you."

"I do a lot of dumb things to see where they get me. You know that." He nods at the thick gray sweatshirt still keeping you warm. "Why don't you take that off for me, Sweetness. You make me cold, I get to return the favor."

Unable to come up with something snarky to say in return with the way his hands are making you shiver now, you do as he suggests with little resistance, the exposed skin of your arms and chest prickling at the much cooler air.

He leans in to tenderly kiss your neck, and your breath leaves in a sigh at the way his facial hair scratches at your throat. He's always been a helluva kisser and the meticulously maintained goatee is just the icing on the cake. Making out on his worktable was not the original plan when you first came down here, but even by his own admission Tony's best plans are usually improvised.

And you're certainly not complaining.

"What did you want from me again?" he murmurs, close to your ear.

The absolute audacity of him.

"Mmmmmmm," seems to be about all you can manage at the moment, and you know very well what's coming next.

He pulls you closer to him, the movements of his fingers turning agonizingly slow and prompting a slight gasp from you.

The smile that gradually spreads its way across his mouth is absolutely wicked.

"What was that, Sweetheart? I didn't quite catch it."

You try to reclaim some semblance of coherence, but his firm hold on you prevents you from escaping his delightfully systematic torture, so instead you grab on to his well-defined shoulders, your forehead resting against his chest. The mechanically-stabilized beat of his heart echoing beneath his skin a brief reminder that he's alive, despite everything he's been through, and he is yours. There's no one else on his mind, no one else he's let this far into his messy and often painful world.

The world may know him as Iron Man, the one who has saved them more times than they could ever count, but how many people really know the Tony that you know?

That same Tony who now raises one hand to tip your head back, whose sharp eyes soften with affection for the slightest of seconds before the anticipated words fall from his tongue, the words he knows will always unravel you.

"You just have to tell me what you want. Come on, Princess. Use your words."

You shudder and lean in to beg for another kiss.

"You, Tony. Always you. Please."

He kisses you back with renewed intensity, leaving you completely breathless.

"There we go...was that so hard?"

[dullgecko]

omfg you can't stop there with the neck-touching story, i'm so invested. the aftermath, i beg of you. did riz isolate himself/hide from his friends in shame after the fact? how did fabian react? did he blame riz? blame himself? were the bad kids able to coax riz back into the party after his self-imposed isolation?

Fabian had been completely blindsided by the sudden attack. Not literally, thank Cas, Rizs hands were small enough that he'd only torn up the half elfs cheek with his claws before stopping. As it was Fabian had felt him hit bone and had flinched away to cradle the sudden ragged hole in his cheek while the rogue hissed and put distance between them.

He felt Kristen's magic cut through the white hot pain after only a second. Flesh knitting back together in an instant and leaving no trace of the attack save for the heat on his skin and the blood in his mouth. He spat what was remaining onto the ground to join the pool of blood that had spilled there, turning his head when Kristen touched his face to let her check she hadn't missed anything.

"What the fuck The Ball. Claws are taking it a little far don't you think?" The half elf pushed himself to sit upright rather than remaining in his hunched position. His brief spike of anger at the attack fading when he noticed their rogue was gone.

"The Ball? Did anyone see where he went?"

There had been a quick search, each of them splitting up to go check his usual hiding spots in the house before reconvening in the living room. Adaine crouching to clean the blood off the carpet while Fig pulled out her crystal to see if they could find any clues.

She'd been recording while Fabian and Riz tousled on the floor, her cystal propped up on a side table as the teifling cheering Riz on. Whooping when he 'pinned' Fabian to the ground and settled into a cross legged position on his chest in victory. He had clearly been having fun, ears high and alert and tail flicking in a way they knew meant 'happy' as he mock clawed at Fabians face. He had his fingers curled in such a way that he was only batting their fighter in the face with his knuckles though so Fig was confused as to how Riz had clawed the half elf.

It had all happened so quickly that she'd assumed that Riz clawed him first THEN Fabian pinned him to the floor. The video showed otherwise though. Their rogue laughing even as their positions were flipped RIGHT up until the point Fabians completed the pin with his hand around the goblins throat.

The flip from smiling to terror had been almost instant, the video clear enough that they could see his pupils contract to slits even as he full force raked his claws across Fabians face. The goblin scrambling out of the cameras field of view when he was released. Thankfully they had still been recording even as everyone lept to check on Fabian where he was groaning on the floor. They could very audibly hear the front door slamming shut while Kristen was healing Fabian in the footage.

"Fuck dude did you kneel on his tail or something? I think you really hurt him."

Fabian shook his head, eye going wide as he watched the footage over Figs shoulder. A yawning pit of guilt opening in his stomach as she rewound it a few time to watch again and try and work out why Riz had flipped out. If he was hurt they needed to help him but he tended to hide injuries up until the point he couldn't function and they forced help on him.

"We need to go find him."

---------

Riz was in such a panic that he didn't have a plan beyond 'put distance between me and everyone else as fast as possible'. The door slammed shut behind him and he briefly contemplated booking it down the driveway but The Hangman was chasing pigeons about halfway down and Riz had just attacked its master.

He went right instead, rounding the side of the house to cut through the cemetery and find somewhere to hide. He'd never done something like this before and he was terrified. Both of himself because he couldn't remember the attack AND of the consequences.

Sure he'd nipped and scratched his friends before but he very rarely drew blood, and even then it was only usually a pinprick. He obviously hadn't held back this time, the evidence drying on his claws and face from where it had dripped on him before he scrambled free.

What would they think of him now? That he was as dangerous and violent as what people always said goblins were? Would they deal with him the same way they usually dealt with people that attacked them? He'd fled the house completely unarmed and he didnt even grab his briefcase before leaving. Hell, without his sword he didn't even have an advantage when hiding right now.

Riz stopped in the middle of the cemetery, crouching behind a large headstone just off the path so he could hide and collect his thoughts. The goblin whining as he tried to wipe the blood off his hand onto the grass but found that the vast majority of it had dried and wasn't coming free.

He realised he hadn't picked the best hiding spot but he couldn't muster the energy to care. Riz curling into a smaller ball and pressing his face against his knees, arms and tail alike looping around his ankles as he tried very hard to pretend he didn't exist anymore. So what if they found him, maybe he deserved whatever punishment they saw fit.

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

Riz wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting outside whe he heard the first footsteps approaching. He'd let himself retreat fully into his own mind as he tried to work out what exactly had happened and kept coming up empty. The rogue didn't even move when his crystal started ringing in his pocket, Fabian obviously trying to call him since he was the only person not set to mute.

Riz shifted to cover his head with his arms when the footsteps rapidly got closer, hoping to at least protect what he could if they were mad even if he didn't make an effort to run. The last time he clawed someone like this was in middle school and he'd spent weeks hiding the broken ribs from his mom after the kids friends had gotten their shots in.

"I've found him." He heard Fabian shout, though the sound was muffled with his arms shielding his head. The goblin whining and trying to curl up more when he felt hands gently try to pry his arms away.

"Riz? Fuck. Are you okay? I'm sorry. Hey..."

Riz relaxed slightly when the expected blows didn't come, letting the fighter untangle his arms and gently inspect his hand because it was still covered in dry blood. He did yank his tail away from his hand when he tried to inspect it as well though, tucking it up behind himself out of grabbing range and hissing into his own knees.

"Can you look at me? Are you hurt?"

Fabian still had a grip on both of his hands, thumbs pressing into his palms as he kneaded at the soft tissue there. Riz let him continue for a few more seconds before withdrawing his hands from his grip and wrapping them around his chest. Lifting his head to peek at the fighters concerned face which he was relieved was all in one piece.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what happened." Riz said quietly, dipping his ears back in show of contrition.

"What happened was you clawed the shit out of me." Fabian scoffed, reaching forwards to coax Riz to sit up further so he could see his face properly, the half-elf licking his thumb to try and get some of the dried blood off the goblins cheek. The act making Riz screw his face up in a way that made Fabian laugh. "I think it was my fault though. I apologise."

"What? No I attacked you I'm-" He froze, claws digging into his vest as the half elfs hand hovered close to his throat. Fabian making a face as if he'd just made a point before withdrawing carefully.

"No I'm quite sure it was my fault." Fabian shifted to sit next to the rogue instead, bringing a knee up to rest his arm on as he looked out over the cemetary. "Fig was filming and I can tell when someone gets triggered. My father used to get the same way sometimes... Do you think you're up to coming back inside?"

Riz shook his head, leaning forwards to hide his face against his knees again and sighing loudly. Leaning against Fabians side when his friend draped his arm over him and pulled him in to sit a little closer.

"Alright. I'll stay out here with you for a while then."

[stolitzsings]

Y'all are going to make me finish shit bc now if these works don't materialize everyone will know my shame 🤣 thank you to @sunsetofdoom for the tag!

Posting another snippet from my longer stolitz AU (tentatively titled "A Place to Rest") bc I really like what I have so far and I need a reason to make myself continue with it 😅

Stolas came out of the kitchenette and stopped dead when he saw what Blitz was looking at. “Oh. Umm…” he said awkwardly, his entire face turning bright pink. “Those are something of a… well, a guilty pleasure of mine.” Blitz shrugged and returned the book to its place. “Eh, who am I to judge? Never got the point of reading when you're horny, but you know, different strokes.” He chuckled quietly at his own joke. “I suppose they bring me some comfort,” Stolas said, running his hand affectionately over the books’ spines. “Just imagining that relationships like that could exist somewhere.” “What, like the whole “one true love, love conquers all” bullshit?” He nodded, a little pensively. “That, and the passion of it all. The idea of someone desiring you so fervently that they can't help but surrender to it. Someone needing you, your body, in that way.” His cheeks turned, if possible, even pinker. “O-or something like that.” Blitz stared at him. Stolas was one of the most fuckable demons he'd ever seen. Those long, slender legs? That slut waist? That adorable blush whenever he got flustered? Fuck, he could hardly look at Stolas’s tail without wanting to yank on it as he railed him from behind. The idea that no one had yet bent him over a table and fucked him until his weird bird knees buckled seemed frankly criminal. “Fuck, you've been dating the wrong kind of guys, birdbrain.” “Well…” Stolas looked down at the floor, his brow furrowed. “I haven't actually… dated any guys. O-or even kissed one.” “You're shitting me.” “I was very isolated growing up, you see,” he said in a rush, as though to justify his own inexperience. “A-and I always knew I was going to have an arranged marriage, so it didn't seem–” Blitz didn't consider himself someone who was overly concerned with right versus wrong. But this injustice had clearly gone on long enough, and he knew exactly how to fix it. He closed the distance between himself and Stolas in a few swift strides, then grabbed the highest point of Stolas’s shirt he could reach and yanked him down to eye level. Stolas’s eyes widened in shock, but before he could react in any way beyond that Blitz had already pulled him into a kiss.

Tagging @blitzwhore, @bookishcatcafe, and anyone else who wants to share!

[lunart-06]

Kamukura with emotions doesn't make him weaker than before, just because he's in relationship with Makoto doesn't mean he's gone completely *soft*. He's only gone soft in just one angle, the rest is still pretty much still the same except now he perfers to rest his head on Makoto's lap than anything else that was already available for him to simply just lean his head against.

The first thing he feels when being around makoto isn't *love*, it's simply the same feeling he always felt which is *boredom*. And the second that came along wasn't the first thing mentioned, it's *interest* (from the form of the prespective of boring normalcy that differs his own) that slowly by time turned into *obsession* (realizing this whole thing is much better than when being stuck in the tight room in his lab) and by then began to be sticking around the guy instead of the other way around and it'll be a surprise to Makoto one day and to Makoto that will only be taken as an invitation to be closer. A progress.

All in all *love* will be the LAST THING appeared even AFTER they were in a relationship because it is something that Kamukura HAS to come in terms or accept himself, or realising too late to stop it cause he only accept to be "in a relationship" (with the entitlement of 'lovers' or 'partners' and everything) with Makoto simply in a way so Makoto can stay close to him (knowing the guy's unyielding loyalty and used that to his gain), because Makoto continues to make himself intriguing to Kamukura in his own boring, simple ways because Kamukura has grow to hate and berated normalcy of the untalented by his teachers and developed it through there. Plus he never gets to experience or learn a lot more of it other than the lab staffs' explanation of how "boring" it is and it's seem to also be the reason *he* became Kamukura in the first place as well.

(So the beggining of their relationship itself, the "love" part was one-sided. Kinda. In a way)

Sure it *is* boring. The whole "normal lifestyle" thing is sure sucked away his life source (if he even had one) and it's already just as he expected even when he lets Makoto around for at least a few days, he only let the guy around cause his luck is unexpected at most times but then of COURSE Makoto would use those times to shimmy his way into Kamukura's life. Shortly yet slowly. A very strange pace it is but it worked well with both of them.

His sickening optimistic, motivating nature to upbring Kamukura's gloomy, unmotivated one to pull him in the most boring of activities eventhough he had stated either directly or indirectly that those are, obviously, *boring*.

But Makoto's other traits that has first caught him just *slightly* off guard (which is. Rare and almost to never) was his undeterred determination to prove someone wrong (either in a morality sense in what was naively generally right). Perhaps he has been too assuming of Makoto's commonly pushover antics, or maybe Makoto's usual everyday and everytime genuine optimism has put his guard down just a bit that it made him passed by the fact that Makoto- no matter how positive and hopeful- *can* get mad or bothered if being triggered in certain ways. Certain ways as in if it involves someone else or views of things morally in a negative sense (the reaction made Makoto look more.. real. Something along that line).

Im also thinking how at some point, that *stubborn* determination that *always* butts in whenever Kamukura try to state or refuse. To try and always attempting to change his mind and at some point it led to another breaking point leading to the next change and that would be Kamukura- in his still usual bored tone yet out of character dialogue, said, in *annoyance*; "can you shut up." And doesn't THAT caught them BOTH off guard.

Silence followed when both were lost in their own thoughts in trying to process it before Makoto snapped out of it first to apologise for crossing the line and in promise to not do it again. Which, Kamukura is fine with but at the same time- "no" he would say, "keep talking". Cause sure, Kamukura has a fair share of being annoyed sometimes, but THIS is different, because just *how* can he be so easily annoyed over something so... *simple* as Makoto to be able to *blurted out* the moment of thought? It's something worth to explore more. To *experience*. Because it's new and when it's new, it's usually *interesting and unexpected* to someone like Kamukura.

And sometimes it's not just usually some new emotion just popped up at certain times, it's also the fact how constant it is of how the emotions he had experienced off kept *shifting*. He'd be bored then suddenly feeling intrigued in something then suddenly be slightly fluttery-ish? ('Amused' he noted) or suddenly feeling heavy in his chest ('sadness' he thought), heck, even the feeling of something clawing his insides when Makoto almost get a brick crushed his own head ('fear' he whispered to himself) then suddenly sometimes shifts back to being bored, then intrigued, then over and over in an out of order cycle. It either shift back to the same things or it develops something new.

It was never just one thing everyday just like how things are before meeting Makoto- like continuously be bored of everything and that's what makes things both overwhelming and underwhelming at the same time.

I also think that another thing that pulls Kamukura to Makoto is that just from Makoto, wanting to hang out and stick to him, to befriended him, with the payment only be *spending some time with Kamukura* and not to use him for his talents and abilities alone. Is one thing Kamukura unmanaged to just *understand* or fully grasp. In the end though he resolved by thinking that perhaps this is just a Makoto thing. That Makoto is being too good or cared too much of others in a way. But it does put Kamukura in a good "hm..." moment though.

I have a funny imagery that Kamukura just seem to be more often being put *slightly* off guard more by Makoto (wether intentionally or unintentionally which is usually the latter) than anyone else does. To which he be more on guard than he is before and to not jump to the most obvious conclusions or assumptions on some people because, of course, the Makoto situation and all. To which also means it made him statistically *more* dangerous than before (congrats Makoto! You made him more cautious or more thoughts in than usual of what was around him!).

His obsession in wanting to keep Makoto close to him by time will become apart of his own conciousness that *I* believe to be the case. Because after everything?? Everything that happened for the last few months?? Wether before or after being together (though I believe the moment they are together is the moment where the feeling became more hecticly stronger)?? It would only be obvious that he would, for once, *accidentally* (cause really, since when does being with Makoto Naegi means anything gone as planned?) Putting the obsession from wanting Naegi close because he is the first and often only source of interest for Kamukura's own bargained to wanting Makoto close because suddenly he was in too deep in the pit he had been *still* continuously dig himself in and finding that he doesn't *like* it when Makoto was out of reach.

(Going from trying to keep the guy around for selfish reasons by means to keep himself out of his usual bored state [cause let's face it, Kamukura isn't a good person, nor a bad one either, heck doesn't even attempted in search to at least *try* to quench his boredom just because he lacks any sort of motivation. But if the interesting thing were to suddenly presented dangling just in sight he WILL grab onto it tightly.], to obsessively trying to not get the guy lost out of his reach figuratively or metaphorically sense cause he *knows* that he will never *feels* something like this again, to feeling just *right* to have Makoto close to him and not letting go just because he doesn't *like* it)

I doubt Kamukura even realised the moment he had been *attached* to Makoto, simply because he had never experience emotions in the first place other than just knowing the basic theories to diagnose others in. And when he did, it's too late by then (it won't be him unable to escape Makoto. No, no, on the contrary, Makoto will be unable to escape *him*).

So anyways. Love isn't the priority to Kamukura since the very beggining in the start of their relationship, because the other foreign subjects that is emotions (twinging sadness, light amusement, flickering annoyance, poisonous jealousy, and dare he not admit the clawing fear) *are* the foundations that build his own *version* of what was the concept of 'Love' is.

Love is different to everyone afterall, so far what Kamukura has learned and see, if there was anything the same about all of it is that; love is a form of passion, and the connection of the bonds, it can be different from others, but Kamukura *doesn't* feel anything a lot WITH anyone else in general more than he is with Makoto. So essentially to him, it was different. It's not love that was viewed *generally* but it was his own version nonetheless.

This is just *my* insight of how I see Kamuegi *in* Kamukura's prespective. Cause he is my favorite character to write. You can do so many things to him in certain situations no matter how impossible it seem to try and not break his character. But that's the thing. You NEED to break certain characters, but as long as you didn't break the fundamental core of their characters then trust me, it's more of a scratch or a rather small crack on a ceramic vase than it looking all smashed up.

Sometimes you GOTTA make a scratch or heck, added something on it, without it losing it's shape or material as a ceramic vase, in order to make it slightly more jazzam get it? Or to make it work for the theme of the room you placed it in. (Not me using the vase metaphor for all of this)

[dredshirtroberts]

y'know. i don't often hate the way my brain is and how difficult it makes certain things for me.

i do a little today though.

[strangerstilinski]

smoke me out

𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: you and eddie are friends — and really, what's a little shotgunning amongst friends? [ 7.4k ]

𝗰𝘄: friends to lovers, dubcon bc they're high, reader with a vagina & breasts, drug use (weed), smoking & shotgunning, pathetic attempts at dirty talk, unprotected sex, cream pie, and goofy eddie (always)

𝗮/𝗻: the stoner in me came out at the beginning, ngl. this is just a horny culmination of my need to shotgun with eddie and also to rub his sweaty body with my own. and yes, that one part is inspired by the gifs of the hoard scene featuring joe's tight little ass grinding away.

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝟏𝟖+ 𝙚𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙚 𝙢𝙪𝙣𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

It's just you and Eddie today.

You're propped up against the headboard side by side, a nest of pillows providing you both with a cushion from the uncomfortable framework behind your bed. The muted sound of James Hetfield's voice floating through your stereo speakers over a heavy clash of drums and guitar has your head bobbing in time with the beat. Eddie has long-since gone from shredding on air guitar to intently staring at the way his own ringed fingers bend toward his palm every time the pitch shifts incrementally, mentally contemplating the chord changes by ear. 

Despite the windows thrown open on either side of the room, your small apartment reeks of smoke and weed. The humid Indiana summer air filtering through the curtains is not nearly strong enough to properly air out the cramped space. It's one of those wonderfully warm days — peak summertime. Not overly hot, but enough to have your skin prickling with heat beneath a tank top and cotton shorts. 

Eddie is still lounging in a threadbare pair of checkered pajama pants and a cutoff tee, the top half of his hair tied back in a haphazard bun to lessen the weight of the thick curls sticking to his neck. 

Eddie is prone to complaining when it's hot. Or when it's cold. And also when it's rainy. Or windy. 

Point is, you're not sure why he's yet to complain about the lack of air conditioning in your apartment, but Eddie seems content as ever. It could have something to do with the little glass pipe the two of you have been passing back and forth all afternoon. The bowl on the end had been packed tight, more than enough weed to have both of you thoroughly stoned, well before it's even finished.

The ceiling fan is stirring up the faintest breeze. You've burned yourself thrice on a rogue, billowing flame while trying to light up. The circulating air keeps pushing an errant dark curl down over Eddie's face every time he dips his head to take a hit.. You've combed it back for him four times, already—God forbid he set his hair on fire. Again. You're not sure he's even noticed the way your hand lingers on that smooth strip of skin behind his ear just a little longer each time.

But you can't help it, not with the way everything's gone a little foggy at the edges. Your eyes seem to process your surroundings in near slow-motion, all while the world shines with a barely-perceptible gleam. The last twenty minutes the two of you have spent smoking have done wonders to soften the world around you. Your head is full of air in that familiarly pleasant way that leaves you feeling a bit like you might float away at any second. Like a balloon in the sky. And with the added bonus of Eddie by your side, you're entirely relaxed. Contented.  

Weak beneath the lazy weight of your high pressing in on you, you suddenly flop your weight down sideways across the bed, your head landing over Eddie's thighs. You blink slow up at him, hazy gaze focusing on the underside of Eddie's face while he brings his bony knees up from the mattress to cage you a little closer to his chest. The angle would be outrageous were you looking up at anyone else, you're sure, but Eddie..

He's so pretty.

All rogue-ish boy. Unkempt and wild, but still entirely beautiful.

You can't help the way your hand finds its way up, up, up. Your fingertips dancing across the barely-there five o'clock shadow on the edge of his jaw. You trace the hard line all the way from his chin to his ear, his stubble scratchy and wholly soothing when you lightly scrape your nails against the grain of it.

Eddie, on the other hand, has found himself entirely focused on the way gravity has moved your breasts in your new position below him. The awkward angle has carried them up and out, bra-less and soft and hypnotizing. They shift just a little every time your hand moves across his face. The tank top you've chosen to wear today is thin, indecently so, in his opinion. His brown eyes have been glued to the obvious outline of your nipples beneath the fabric since the moment you'd greeted him at the door, and his ogling has only gotten less subtle as his high settled in. He risks another longing glance down past your collar bones, reddened eyes dragging over the shape of your puffy nipples hidden underneath.

You're thumbing softly at the coarse hairs just under his chin when Eddie gives in to impulse and  purses his lips to blow a cool breath of air over your neck and chest. You can't help but giggle as your skin reacts, goosebumps spreading down your arms, and unbeknownst to you, your nipples tightening into semi-hard peaks beneath your top.

They're not the only things that are suddenly semi-hard. 

Eddie smacks his lips and swallows the drool that he's embarrassed to admit has pooled beneath his tongue. His ring-clad knuckles brush the side of your breast as he reaches to take the forgotten bowl from the blankets. 

He attempts to gather himself as he takes another hit. He holds it for a count of five and then exhales a cloud of smoke whilst urging himself to imagine something utterly repulsive.. His uncle in the shower, roadkill, the way his balls itch uncomfortably after he plays a gig at The Hideout in too-tight jeans — anything that might keep him from popping an unwanted boner while you've got your pretty, unassuming head resting in his lap.

Your fingers are now trailing lightly over the light freckles dotting the bridge of Eddie's nose. His skin is a little pink from yesterday's sun, despite the number of times you'd physically dragged him from Steve's pool to apply sunscreen to his steadily-reddening cheeks. The previous day outside has Eddie's barely-there freckles appearing far more visible than usual, speckled along the round tip of his nose, his cheeks, even the crinkles around his eyes. You think they make him look even more handsome, boyish perhaps, but handsome all the same.

Through the warm fog in your brain, you find yourself smiling up at him. A dopey grin on your face as you poke at the soft apples of his cheeks — Like he's your own personal plaything. Your heart ticks excitedly when the corner of Eddie's lips quirk up at you in response, his pupils blown wide, surrounded by a thin ring of molten chocolate. His teeth flash with his sweet little chuckle of amusement, cheeks dimpling beneath the sparsest area of his stubble.

“You've got freckles,” You comment quietly. “They're cute.” You smack your lips once, mouth dry with dehydration, “I like 'em.. 'nd your stubble, too. Feels nice.”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Eddie chuckles, stoned and more than a bit flattered under the weight of your attention. His chest puffs up a little proudly, his words flowing without any real thought behind them, “Made it all myself.. 'S hard work.. But, uh, y'know. Someone's gotta do it.”

He slips his lighter between two of his fingers and holds the bowl off to the side so that he can drag the fingers of his free hand softly, delicately, over your hair where it's fanned out over his lap. He doesn't want to mess it up, especially doesn't want one of his rings to get caught and pull. But it looks so soft, and through the haze, he can't fight the impulse to simply.. touch. So gently. 

His attention seems intently focused on the careful motions of his fingers along your hair, and you take advantage of his distraction by finally allowing your gaze to drop to his mouth. Eddie keeps slowly rolling and biting his lips between his teeth. Canines dig into the flesh before he's scrunching his nose and pursing his lips, only to scrape his teeth over them again in a never-ending loop. You doubt he's even aware he's doing it but it's beginning to make his lips swell, the skin darkening to a brighter shade of pink from the abuse.

All at once, your trance is broken when his tongue pokes out to wet his smoke-dry lips. Your mind flashes suddenly with an idea. 

The absence of both the Hellfire crew and your other friends was truly a rarity. You hardly ever got to be alone with Eddie like this. You'd tried to ask him out once upon a time- No, not just once. Twice. Twice you'd asked him on a date — both of which had somehow ended in group excursions rather than romantic one-on-one time, how it had happened two separate times, you still weren't sure — and at this point you'd given up entirely. Because maybe it just wasn't meant to be. It was okay, really, you'd almost grown content in your longing. 

But, the way Eddie's lips shone lightly after his tongue stroked over them.. It had your brain reeling with possibility. If you were ever going to get his mouth on yours in private, even just for a fleeting moment, it didn't seem possible that an opportunity so seamless would ever present itself again.

It was worth a shot.

“I want another hit.” You tell him, licking at your own lips as brown eyes refocus on your face.

“M'kay, well, you're prob'ly gonna need to sit up for that, sweets,” Eddie points out, entirely unaware of the way your tummy always swoops when the thoughtless pet name falls from his lips. “Unless you were really lookin' t'get a face full'a ash.. In which case, you can definitely keep layin-” A burst of air leaves his nose with a laugh of surprise, repeating his own words to himself with a sweetly boyish giggle, “Sounds like ass. Face full'a ass. Now, that I'd like-”

Normally you'd join in on the joke. Poke a little fun at him for saying such a thing. Freak. You'd say it fondly, with an eye roll to go with it, maybe you'd throw in a half-serious offer involving his face and your backside- But you don't say any of those things. You can't. You're in the middle making the not-so-carefully crafted scene in your head a reality — And, can't he see that? Why is he trying to distract you? 

“Ash. Riiight, uh huh. Well,” You pause, feign innocence before your next words. “Maybe.. Maybe you could shotgun it to me n' that way I can stay right here?” You suggest cautiously, before adding as an afterthought, “If you want, I mean.” 

Any amusement is immediately stripped from Eddie's expression. He spends a few achingly long seconds blinking down at you with heavy eyelids, gaze hooded and distant. His weed-hazy brain takes a moment to actually process your words, but then, just as suddenly as he'd zoned out, he's nodding and bringing the glass pipe back up to his lips, one hand cupped around the end to shield the flame from the path of the ceiling fan.

The lighter clicks and swishes quietly as he lights up. He lowers the bowl after a long second, ringed hand dipping beneath your head and guiding you oh-so gently to arch your neck upward, until he can lean down and press his mouth down softly against yours. 

That first soft brush of his lips has your whole body thrumming. Butterflies begin a rampage in your stomach, so much so that you have to actively remind yourself to part your lips beneath his.

He presses down just a bit more, lips squishing solidly to your own parted ones and sending your heart racing dangerously, but then he's exhaling the smoke into your waiting mouth. You breathe it in as it comes, letting the warmth of it flow from his body and into your own.

He watches you intently as he moves to pull back and sit upright again. Watches the way you seal your mouth shut, lips rolling between your teeth while your lashes flutter against the apples of your cheeks. You allow the smoke to simply sit in your lungs for a long moment before relaxing your chest and exhaling through your nose, releasing the diluted cloud up into the air between you. 

Eddie blinks down at you with heavy lids. There's a long moment of silence between you. It's a palpable thing — not quite awkward or tense, but brimming with an unexpected energy that neither one of you can quite decipher. It's charged. Something like static electricity, or the tether between two magnets of an opposite charge. It nearly tingles in the breadth of space between you.

Eddie feels it. He wonders if you feel it too.

“D'you want another hit?” He asks after a minute, his voice scratchy.

You merely nod your head, not trusting your own voice, and the movement has you refocusing suddenly on the soft press of his calloused fingers where they linger against the nape of your neck. You watch with bated breath as Eddie brings the glass pipe in his hand back to his lips again, letting his gentle grip fall from the top of your spine for just a moment so that he can flick the flame of the lighter over the tiny pocket at the end of the pipe once again. 

Eddie drops the items in his hands to your bedside table carelessly once he's gotten a good lungful of smoke. He leans down in a faster movement this time than he had done before, his hand dipping back beneath your head in a flash to bring your mouths together again.

His lips are dry against your own, but so soft. You're not sure if it's the high or simply Eddie, but the barely-there scratch of stubble over his upper lip is delicious. It feels so good it makes you a little lightheaded. 

Your mouth slips open, inhaling as he exhales. You feel the warmth of the smoke entering your mouth, taste the bitterness of it on your tongue as the two of you fit together like puzzle pieces.

You're preparing to let your craned neck fall back to his lap, to close your lips in an effort to keep the smoke inside of your lungs — but then Eddie is tightening his grip on the back of your head incrementally, and instead of pulling back, he slots your lips together more firmly. Your heart skips in surprise and you can practically hear the blood pumping in your ears. Your brain seems to white out for a moment, unable to focus on anything that isn't Eddie's soft lips moving tentatively against your own. 

A thin cloud of smoke escapes into the air around you as your mouths begin to move together in synchrony. You can't hold back a soft gasp of surprise when Eddie's tongue swipes warmly across the seam of your lips. Your heart pounds, your mouth opening beneath his again without hesitation. 

The kiss that follows is a frenzied rush of lips and teeth and tongue. Hunger blossoms in the pit of your stomach. But it somehow manages to feel so languid, so sensual beneath the relaxed fogginess of your high. 

Your back arches, shoulders lifting from Eddie's thigh to meet him more than halfway. The movement prompts his hands to find your hips and Eddie is tugging you upright in a flash. Suddenly you're wedged between his legs, practically in his lap. Your knees curling around his waist as he leans farther into your space, chasing your warmth until barely any space exists between you. 

Your hands slide idly along his body in a slow trail. Each scrape against your palms feels divine. Every inch of him feels like silk under your fingers. The smooth, worn cotton of his tshirt. The tight ringlets of curls at the nape of his neck, a little damp with sweat. The soft give of warm muscle beneath your eager hands on his chest, his arms, his hips. You attempt to memorize every inch of him, your limbs seemingly moving of their own accord, touch-hungry and weightless all at once. 

He's so warm and- God, you want to be inside of him. You think you might want to bury yourself beneath his skin and make a home there. He smells like heaven, like sweat and weed and masculine body wash. Your fingertips drag leisurely along the length of his inked arms, inching slow back toward his neck like you have all the time in the world to explore every inch of his body. 

Your touch is scorching across his skin, overwhelming and seemingly everywhere at once but simultaneously not enough. It's like all of his wildest dreams have come to life, and Eddie can't fucking believe that this is happening. That you're practically in his lap, your tongue in his mouth, legs draped around his waist, hands tucked beneath the gaping sleeves of his muscle tee to roam freely and grope at the exposed skin of his hips.

Eddie's head cranes just a bit to the side in an attempt to deepen the kiss, licking his way deeper. His own arms curl around your waist, tightening at the curve of your spine to tug your body flush against his. The action has a needy noise pushing its way into his mouth as your tongues explore one another with warm, wet licks. He groans at a particularly slow curl of your tongue, he swears he feels it in his fucking balls. 

He's so turned on he thinks his dick might explode. Eddie changes your position in another quick movement, holding you flush to his chest before he's directing you to lie back against the mattress and slotting himself right there  between your thighs. 

Despite the way your head has gone a little fuzzy from lack of oxygen, you can't find it in yourself to pull away from him. All you can do is slide your hands from Eddie's shoulders and up into his hair. Tingles shoot from your fingertips as they slide into his frizzy curls, yanking some of them free from his bun just to feel the way they tangle around your fingers. A hot flush of arousal pulses in your cunt at the satisfied noise that Eddie lets out when you tug lightly, and that noise alone has you suddenly frantic. 

You can't get enough of him; his sounds, his taste, the press of his warm body between your thighs.  

The hand he isn't using to support himself against the mattress rubs along your waist of its own accord, his fingertips slipping beneath the hem of your shirt to brush featherlight over your skin. You swear sparks erupt in his wake. 

You pull back just enough to murmur his name desperately against his lips, but the syllables are barely out before you're licking into his mouth again with unbridled hunger. Eddie's groan meets your ears in response to your weak plea — what you're begging for, you're not quite sure, but then his hips drop against yours with a slow roll and that- 

Oh, that is exactly what you needed.

You can't help the soft whimper that falls into his mouth. The warm line of his half-hard cock pressing against your cunt through the thin barrier of your pajama bottoms has you dizzy. Eddie grinds hips against yours in another slow roll, clothed erection pressing soft into your cunt and prompting the seam on your shorts to nudge at your clit. You both groan in sync, parted lips barely brushing through the breathless sounds.

You also can't help the way you lift your hips in time with each grind of his length against you. The warm weight of his balls squishes against the fabric of your shorts every time his pelvis drags over your own. The thin cotton feels far too thick of a barrier currently between you and his cock. 

Ringed fingers sneak up a little farther beneath your shirt, his hand tightening over your naked breast, and you keen at the feeling. He alternates between brushing the calloused pad of his thumb over your nipple and covering the area with his palm to give it a soft squeeze. His lips fall slack against your own, too busy focussing on the way his fingers release and then grope again and again, the kind of distracted intrigue that could only be a result of his high.

A soft whine falls from your lips after a minute of putting up with his lazy fondling. You tug at the hair between your fingers again and nip encouragingly at his lips in a silent plea for a kiss. His mouth finally resumes moving against your own, and you gratefully allow him to direct the kiss. You give him full control of the pace, which turns out to be a give and take of desperate licks into your mouth followed by gentle caresses of his spit-slick lips against your own. Lips smack each time you part, tongues sliding together wetly, heaving breaths rush in and out of your noses as you both attempt to pull as much oxygen in as humanly possible in an effort to not break apart.  

Your fingers find the knob of his spine, and you tug on the collar at the back of his shirt in silent question. Eddie answers by pushing back up on his knees to yank the fabric over his head in a quick movement. His tattooed chest heaves with slightly labored breaths and you watch him with rapt attention, your eyes drawn to the tiny patch of hair nestled between his pecs and lightly dusted around his nipples. Then your focus drops to the thicker trail that leads down into the waistband of his pants. The pale skin beneath the hair glistens with sweat, and good God you want to taste it-

But you're only granted a few seconds to ogle his torso before Eddie is dipping back down to catch your lips with his, your mouths immediately separating just enough that he can strip you of your own top. 

As soon as your naked chest is exposed to him, Eddie is dragging his lips down your body in a slow trail. He pauses for a moment to kiss a spot just below your ear, his voice raspy when he speaks, “You good? This alright?” He checks quietly. 

You reach up to tangle a hand in his hair again, a breathless sigh leaving your lips as you feel the warmth of his mouth pressing against your neck, “Good, yeah. Very, very alright.” 

Eddie wastes no time, his lips trailing lower. He leaves a series of wet, open-mouthed kisses to your exposed breasts, relishing in the way you react to his mouth, the way your spine arches up from the mattress at the attention. 

“Jesus H. Christ. 's incredible,” Eddie mumbles, his words slurred against your chest as he bites and sucks at the skin on the side of your breast. His head has gone hazy with lust, his fingers slipping beneath your body to grab a desperate fistful of your ass, “Hand to God. I swear, I've never fuckin' seen more perfect-”

You interrupt the filth spewing from his mouth with an entirely unintentional moan, slightly overwhelmed by the influx of sensations. His praise in your ears. The feeling of his fingertips sinking into the plush of your ass. The prominent bulge in his bottoms dragging against you. 

Eddie curses under his breath, taking your nipple into his mouth and biting down softly before immediately soothing his tongue over it in apology.

Your brain is a little fuzzy. Sweetly faded and hazy at the edges, but somehow, each touch and sound between the two of you feels heightened — Magnified and all that more intense. As if your high has somehow managed to mute everything on earth except for Eddie. 

You release his hair in favor of sliding your hands down his back to grope the globes of his ass over his pajama bottoms while his hips continue to rock forward in a dizzying rhythm. A knead to the flesh there has Eddie whining sinfully against your tongue and your pussy fucking throbs in response.

"Baby," Eddie pants into your mouth, his voice nearly cracking with need, "Take 'em off, please- Baby? c'n we-?"

He doesn't finish the question but you nod, nose brushing against his as your hands slip underneath the waistband of his pants. Your fingers are very nearly trembling while you shove the fabric down below the curve of his ass. 

You feel the moment that his cock springs free and you immediately have to crane your neck down to take a peek — The urge to see him is too strong. And God is it a glorious sight. 

Flushed red at the tip and achingly hard— Jesus it's thick, gloriously thick. His pubes are dark and untamed around the base, hiding just how big he truly is. It's the most gorgeous cock you've ever fucking seen and it's bumping softly against the crotch of your shorts, wetting the fabric with smeared pre-cum that Eddie's fucking leaked over the head. He's wet with need, same as you, and the thought makes you feel fucking insane. 

Which means you ogle perhaps longer than you should. 

A needy grumble rises in Eddie's throat that has you snapping out of it suddenly and bringing a hand up into the narrow space between your faces. It takes a moment with the dryness of smoke lingering on your tongue, but you manage to gather enough spit to lick a wet stripe up your palm and fingers, and then you're reaching down to curl your fingers around him. 

Half-naked is practically Eddie's default state when he's stoned or drunk, you've drooled over just the outline of him in his underwear more times than you can count, but you're still somehow surprised by the sheer size of him in your hand. The weight of him. Long and curved just a little to the right — so silky and so soft under the slippery glide of your fist. You work your hand slow over him, rewarded with a beautiful little groan of thanks from the man above you, the sound of it guttural as you begin to jerk him with slick strokes. 

“Ohhh my god, that- that's, j-jesus-” His voice fucking cracks. 

Eddie's hips jump as he fucks into your fist. His eyes roll back, a little delirious just from the sight of your smaller hand wrapped around him. You switch from long strokes in favor of shorter ones where you can focus your attention on his tip, your thumb swiping back and forth over the head of his cock with each flick of your wrist. Eddie doesn't even recognize the sounds leaving his mouth. The combination of his high and the wet glide of your hand is too maddening to care. 

You make your own small noise of amazement that has Eddie coming back to himself suddenly. He yanks your shorts down your thighs with an impatient huff, pulling away from you just long enough to discard the last of both of your clothing before he's caging you back against the mattress once again. And then his lips are making their way to your neck, kissing and sucking lightly between these oh-so pretty little groans against your throat, his hips bucking restlessly into your own all the while. 

You give an eager cant of your hips, feet pressing into the mattress until the tip of Eddie's cock brushes the seam of your cunt. Eddie makes another sweet little noise of surprise that has you draping an arm around his neck, your face pressing into his shoulder as you repeat the movement with intention. 

You want him so bad your pussy fucking aches. 

“Ed, can we, please?” You whisper desperately into his skin. 

The question is barely out before he's nodding against your throat, bracing his knees and lining himself up with your hole. His hips push forward until just the tip of his cock presses into the wet heat of your cunt, but good lord-

He's so big. It feels a bit like he's splitting you right down the middle, but it's so good. He rocks his hips forward slowly, each little push stretching you wider than you thought possible. Every time you think he can't possibly have more to give you, he slips in a little deeper. He reaches so far inside of you that your eyes roll back, a long, drawn-out moan tearing past your lips at the slow stretch, the dull fullness behind your navel that you can nearly feel in your throat. 

“Oh, fuck.” You whine breathlessly, hands scrambling for purchase along his skin. Your nails bite into the sweat-slick muscles of his back before slipping lower still. You find the dimples at the base of his spine, nails raking over the pale white skin of his hips and ass. Your whole body goes lax underneath him as the wiry bush of his pubes finally meets your own. 

The noise Eddie releases into the curve of your shoulder borders on a whimper, his breath hot against your skin as he rocks his hips forward again and again. His weight pushes you deeper into the mattress, his cock grinding desperately against the absolute deepest parts of you. He gasps with each nudge of your cervix against the head of his cock, practically humping you through the haze of his high as he tries to give you time to adjust to his size. 

“Y'good?” Eddie pants into your neck, words slurred together with need. He feels half a second from fucking begging when your legs spread further, your thighs falling back toward the mattress and allowing him even deeper and holy fucking shit. “Ohh, c'n I move?” He’s all but whining now, “Please. God, please can I-” 

“Uh huh, 'm good, 'm good, I-” Your assurances cut off with a wail when he begins to pull back and drive in again with a sharp snap of his hips. Your fingers tighten where his hairy thighs meet his ass, nails biting into taut muscle in an attempt to ground yourself. “Ohmygod.” You whine, eyes glazing over with the heat that pools behind your navel with each thrust.

“Y'feel so good.” Eddie mumbles, slack mouth pressed to the sensitive spot below your ear. 

He pushes up on his elbows, but only enough that you can gape up at him with hooded eyes, brows furrowed with just how fucking good he feels. 

“Fuucck, y're pretty,” Eddie groans between deep thrusts, his words drawing a moan from your lips. He brings one hand to your cheek, thumb pushing into the plush cushion of your swollen lips before he's covering them with his own in a messy kiss, “Y're so hot. So. fucking. perfect.” 

His words are spoken quietly against your lips between thrusts, his nose squishing your own in close proximity, and you draw him back down to your mouth in a hungry kiss, teeth clashing. 

The pace Eddie has set is intoxicating, pulling nearly all the way out before slamming his hips forward to fill you up again with deep thrusts. Your moans are loud, wanton and uncontrollable under the haze of your high, only somewhat muffled by Eddie's mouth covering yours. 

In a frenzy, you find yourself kissing away the sweat beading on his upper lip. You lave your tongue softly over the light prickle of stubble at his cupid’s bow, but you're only granted a moment to relish in the scratch of it before Eddie is nosing at your cheek and urging you back into a scorching, albeit distracted, kiss. His fingers wrap around your upper thigh to hitch your leg a little higher on his hip, rocking his hips forward again and managing to hit impossibly deeper inside of you. He drives into that spongey spot behind your navel and you writhe-

“Oh-” You gasp into his mouth in surprise, head gone fuzzy as he continues fucking your at the new angle, “Eddie!  I, fuck-” 

He responds with a groan. His lips leave yours to forge a trail of biting kisses over your skin. He wants to kiss you everywhere. He wishes he could kiss every inch of your skin and still keep fucking you. You're weak to do anything but lie there and take it and it makes Eddie feel dizzy with power. Your arms curl around his shoulders again, head thrown back against the bed in ecstasy. 

Eddie's mouth is seemingly everywhere, lips sucking at the underside of your jaw, tongue leaving a wet trail over your collarbones and throat, teeth sinking into the curve of your shoulder. Each new sensation sends another spark of arousal down your spine, sends your brain farther into the clouds. 

It’s almost too much. It has you tightening your thighs around his hips and rolling sideways over the bed to switch positions, his cock slipping free as you find yourself straddling his waist with only a slight wobble from the momentum. Eddie makes a quiet noise of surprise and petulance, but it melts into a grateful, high-keening moan when you sink back down onto him. Your hips press flush to his as you set a new, slower rhythm of your own making. 

“Oh, Jesus,” Eddie whines in amazement, hands tracing over the curve of your waist and breasts as you rock back and forth onto him, “Shit. You look so good like this.” His praise comes out through heaving breaths.

You rest one hand supportively over the sparse hair at the center of his chest, the fingers of your other hand trailing up the skin of his arm until you can tangle your hands together against the mattress. You grind your hips down harder, deeper, and Eddie groans, his hips bucking up unconsciously to meet you halfway. 

Your forearms fall on either side of his head. Your weight pressing down against his chest has Eddie immediately fisting your ass and thighs in a bruising grip to help guide your movements. You lean down to bury your face in his neck as you slide back and forth along his length in a slow rhythm, your legs already aching with exertion even with the help of his strong arms.

The loud slapping of skin meeting skin every time the backs of your thighs meet his own rings loudly in your ears. Your staggered breathing falls against his lightly stubbled jaw, lips leaving distracted kisses in apology for the way your hot breath fans out against his already sweaty neck. 

“God, Eds,” You moan into his skin, sucking a mark against his throat while he uses his tight grip on your hips to fuck you down onto himself, “You feel. So f-fucking good-” 

You let out a yelp as Eddie twists your bodies again with a grunt, and suddenly his body above yours once more, his hand on your shoulder as he sinks back inside of you.

“Need it faster. Harder.” He pants, “That okay?” 

You nod, head rubbing against the mattress, “Yes. Please, yeah-” 

Eddie trails his fingers down the back of your thigh and guides you to wrap your legs around his waist, and then he’s fucking into you in quick, punishing thrusts. Your moans only increase in volume at the change of pace, your whole body seemingly flushed with heat. Your hands scrape desperately over Eddie's back as he pounds into you, nails cutting into pale skin. 

“Shit,” Eddie groans, his forehead dropping down against yours in an unexpectedly tender movement, though it does little to take away from the sound of your bedframe creaking, the wet squelch every time he drives back into you. “God, 're you close?” He asks desperately.

“Uh-huh.” You confirm immediately, brain hazy and muscles tensing with each hard thrust that brings you closer and closer to your peak. 

Eddie's nose rubs soft along your cheekbone as he nods, joining your mouths in a kiss that's more breath and tongue than anything else. You struggle to focus on moving your mouth against his as your orgasm begins to creep into the corners of your vision. Eddie's weight drops down onto one elbow to allow him the stability to reach in between you. His hand settles over your pelvis, his fingers swiping messy over your clit as his quick thrusts grow shakier. 

“C'mon, sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs against your lips, “C'mon, I really-” He's cut off by the groan that rumbles up his throat when you pulse around him, the sound entirely animalistic. “Goddd. N-need you t' fuckin' cum, baby, please.” 

His voice has gone husky with arousal and exertion, the sound has your eyes rolling back. It only takes a handful more thrusts like that, with the help of his fingertips tracing light circles over your clit. Your whole body tenses as your orgasm crashes over you, legs clamping around his hips. You whine brokenly in his mouth, a sharp gasp immediately following as you scrape your fingers down his shoulders, your whole body shaking as you come undone around him. 

The increased tightness of your muscles spurs on Eddie’s own orgasm within a few thrusts, and then he's following you over the edge. He buries his face in the curve of your neck as he cums with a whine, hips stuttering twice before burying deep. His weight crushes you to the mattress, your back arching at the warmth of his release filling you. Your eyes water with the strength of your orgasm, Eddie's hips unconsciously grinding into your own as he rides out his own, whimpering into your ear with the aftershocks. 

You both remain unmoving for a long minute, sweaty chests heaving as you struggle to catch your breath and come back to yourself. You card gently through Eddie's sweaty hair, his curls having long since broken free from the hair tie that had once held them back from his face. You fingers trail thoughtlessly through the damp tresses while Eddie's hot breath fans out over your neck. His dick twitches inside you when your fingertips scrape softly against his scalp and you struggle to bite back a quiet laugh of amusement. Your muscles tense even with the smothered laugh, and Eddie groans as your cunt pulses around him. 

He huffs when he catches the look on your face, entirely dramatic as he begins to roll away, but he only maintains that feigned annoyance for about half a second before he's cackling madly and dragging you into his chest. He nips sharply at your shoulder as he tugs you into his sweaty chest and buries his face in your hair, fingers beginning to trace soft shapes over the skin of your hip. 

“You feelin' okay?” He murmurs after a moment. 

“Yeah,” You confirm with a sigh, already relaxing into his touch. Your brain is pleasantly dulled from the combination of the lingering high and your orgasm. “Yeah, 'm great.” 

“Oh, same, yeah. Super great. I just, uh-” Eddie pauses and you find yourself focussing on the gentle caress of his fingers along your skin, “I wanted to check, y'know.. Make sure you weren't havin' any.. I dunno, just, regrets-”

You're readjusting in a flash so that you can look at him directly, your head settling onto his bicep as your eyes flick between his, “I don't. Regret it, I mean.” 

It feels much too serious of a conversation to be having considering how deliriously high you currently feel, the previous strenuous activity did little to clear your head, but you mean it with every fiber of your being. You've been hung up on Eddie for what feels like forever now, the thought of him outright regretting the events of the last hour- It has you feeling sick, stomach sinking and twisting and souring all at once.

Eddie's throat bobs as he swallows, “Just, I mean.. Y're real stoned and- Shit. I, fuck. I probably shouldn't've-”

“Eddie,” You cut him off, feeling desperate with the need to reassure him, “You smoked just as much as I did—probably more. I-I wanted this. I wanted it, like, really bad. Unless..” Your heart drops, “Do.. Do you regret-?”

“No!” Eddie disagrees immediately, and vehemently — With urgency to correct you. “No. No, sweetheart, I do not regret it. Could never regret you. I mean, that was- Shit, I've been wanting to do that since-”

Your hand finds the warmth of his chest, fingers scraping at the small tattoo there, “You have?” 

Eddie nods his head against the blankets, sweaty curls sticking up every which way around his head like a messy halo, “Yeah.” 

“Does that mean.. I mean, would you maybe wanna do it again sometime? But, like, when we're not high as all hell?” 

Eddie's dimpled grin has an embarrassingly wild burst of butterflies erupting inside of you, “Yeah. Yeah, I really do.”

You lay like that for a while, pressed together despite the heat. His fingers wander over your palms, tracing the lines there while you watch the way his rings shift. Your naked bodies separated only by a thin layer of sweat. The ceiling fan pushing light waves of blessedly cool air over your skin. 

After a few minutes Eddie suddenly tears himself out of your grip, and he does it so abruptly that your brain is hardly able to comprehend the loss of him. He lets out a quiet yelp of distress and nearly collapses face-first into the blankets in a mad scramble toward your legs. He manhandles you until you're sprawled on your back, pushing your thighs apart before flopping entirely ungracefully onto his belly in the narrow space he's made between them. 

As you push up onto your elbows to peer down at him, Eddie is simply stroking his fingers soft up and down the length of your cum-soaked folds. His eyes are alight with wonder while he watches his own spend begin to leak out. One of his thumbs catches it as it falls, and he pulls his hand back for just a moment to get a better look at the pearlescent mixture of your combined cum. 

“What're you doing?” You giggle after a long moment of simply watching him.

Eddie's head snaps up with such surprise it looks as if he might've forgotten you were even there, if such a thing were possible. 

“Just, uh.. Admiring my handiwork.” He grins like he's all-too pleased with himself, dimples poking into his cheeks. 

“It's our handiwork, actually,” You correct playfully, “Half of that's mine, and- No, wait. Actually, 's all mine now.” You tell him triumphantly.

His eyes narrow in confusion and you redirect your gaze pointedly. His attention follows your own, eyes flicking briefly toward his own hand, where the cum has begun to drip slow down his thumb toward the meat of his palm. 

“What, this?” He questions in amusement. 

“Yes that.” You tell him with a frown, “'s mine.” You have to bite back an honest-to-god cackle at the entirely contrived look of betrayal on his face. “Put it back.” You challenge. 

Eddie's eyes roll in irritation as he repeats your words mockingly, his voice thrown high in an exceptionally poor imitation of your own, but he does dutifully drop his hand down between your thighs again to attempt to push the cum back inside you. 

He looks pleased as punch once he's done. He looks at your cunt with a dopey grin on his face, cheeks still pink with exertion and hair wild. 

“Don't miss me too much, pretty. A'right? I'll be seein' you again real soon.” Eddie murmurs softly, eyes never once leaving your cunt. He punctates his words by pressing a gentle kiss to your mound, just a hair's breadth from your clit. 

And then that dumb, dazed smile takes over his face again. 

You squint down at him, “Was.. Were you talking to me or my-”

“Was talkin' to this pretty pussy.” Eddie says matter of factly, stroking his hand over the coarse hairs between your thighs in the way one might pet an animal. 

“Okay.” You manage, laughter preventing you from saying anything else. 

Eddie tugs a large chunk of loose curls across his face and lays his cheek to your upper thigh. He stays like that for a moment, hidden behind the curtain of his hair, big brown eyes blown about as wide as he can manage through his high.

 “..Do you still wanna fuck me?” 

He pouts. It's ridiculous. It's adorable.

You can't pretend to mull it over for more than a few seconds, your cheeks ache with the need to smile. He makes you so happy you feel borderline deranged. 

Your lips quirk up even as you sigh dramatically, “Regrettably? Yes.”  

He fucking cheers. 

He drums his hands enthusiastically against your thighs and yells so loud in victory that all you can do is laugh and cover your ears until he's finished. 

You don't regret it, not a goddamn bit.

[pomefioredove]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ snuggles for hire

summary: first years try helping you out with your touch-starved problem type of post: short fics (blurbs?) characters: leona, floyd, jade, vil additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

"Really? That's it?" Ace scoffs.

"So, they haven't been hugged in a while. Okay? Neither has Deuce,"

Deuce glares. It's almost menacing. "That's not true, and you know it! I get lots of hugs every time I visit home!"

"I do, too. But that's just the thing, though, ain't it?" Epel says. "They don't have no home to get hugs from."

The huddle of first years goes quiet. Some days, you become such a part of their world, they forget you're really not from it.

"...Okay, point taken," Ace sighs. "But they have Grim! And he only stinks like, half the time!"

"If memory serves, Grim usually sleeps on the floor..." Epel says. "Poor prefect, all lonely. Now even their sleep is suffering 'cause of it!"

Jack rubs the back of his neck. "It must be tough, not having anything to look forward to,"

Another melancholy silence. Finally, Ace stands, hands on his hips.

"Well, let's do something about it, then. There are tons of boys at this school- one of them should be willing to help,"

It's eight in the morning after another disappointing attempt at rest, and now you can't even sleep in. Damn visitors.

You throw open the front door.

"What? What could you possibly- wh- Leona?"

The housewarden smirks. He looks a little too proud of himself for this early in the morning...

"A little wolfie told me you weren't sleeping well. Lucky for you, that's my specialty. Now, are you gonna let me in, or what?"

He doesn't wait for an answer, letting himself in and making himself comfortable on the couch in the foyer.

He pats the spot next to him.

"Listen..." you say. "I don't know what you heard, but I'm fine."

"Don't be proud. I don't pity you, I just... owe you. Now get your butt over here, yeah?"

Leona isn't so scary when he's asleep. He's more like... the world's largest pillow. Of course, you're at risk of being smothered until you crawl into a better position, but once you're on top, he's surprisingly warm and comfortable.

You can tell you're being watched before you hear anything.

And you think you might just know wh-

"Shrimpyyy!"

For two boys so tall, the tweels are awfully quiet. Especially when it comes to "surprising" you in random places. This time: the hall.

Floyd pulls you into a bone-crushing hug while Jade watches from behind, smiling subtly.

When he finally lets you down, you're dizzy. (Though, at this point, you'll take whatever physical touch you can get).

"Shrimpyyy, why didn't you tell us you were lonely? We had to squeeze it outta Spade," Floyd pouts.

"His face makes fascinating expressions when he's afraid," Jade says, merrily.

Before you can answer, Floyd's already got you under his arm (seriously? Where do they find the strength?) and is heading straight towards the hall of mirrors.

You already know there's no getting out of this one...

Floyd is, unsurprisingly, all over, from leaning his whole body weight against you to lying across your lap, to biting your shoulder (in his sleep...?) Oh, and he drools, too.

Jade sits on your other side, one hand holding yours, the other leafing through an almanac from twenty years ago.

You're almost hesitant to admit just how nice it really is.

"And nothing else has worked?" Vil says, throwing open the door to your bedroom with no regard for a "hello" or, "how are you?"

You blink. "...Hello to you, too. May I ask what you're talking about?"

He storms inside, standing over you with his hands on his hips.

"Just that I overheard Epel Felmier asking my vice housewarden if he would be willing to satisfy your need for physical affection. You've been struggling? With sleep? And you didn't think to come to me, first?"

He almost sounds... offended that you didn't.

"...Well... I wasn't making a big deal about it,"

"So, no teas, no vitamins, no pills- nothing has helped?"

You shake your head. He sighs.

"Perhaps it is purely psychological... very well. Get up. I hope you don't toss and turn much, I'm a light sleeper,"

Vil is completely still when he sleeps. No tossing, no turning, no drooling, no snoring. He also insists on sleeping on his back, you, clinging to his side, and a single arm around you. Just as elegant as when he's awake. He'd be a true sleeping beauty if not for the mumbles of nonsense that come from him every few minutes. You swear you can make out your own name, once or twice or three times...

He is warm nonetheless, and his mumbles and idle stroking of his fingers on your waist is enough to satisfy you for a night of good sleep.

[daydreamerwoah]

Love Through It All (Alternate Ending - Character Death)

tw: mentions of cheating, mentions of divorce; hurt; angst; anger; rollercoaster of emotion; sadness; arguing; crying; mentions of therapy/counseling; kidnapping; violence; guns; injury; main character death

Please read Part 1 for my author notes for the beginning of this story if this is your first time here.

Had someone ask for a different alternate ending so here it is :)

*This picks up from part 13 in italics*

The moment the video stopped, you locked eyes with Simon. Your puffy eyes made him internally broken, but his facial expression hadn't changed, and you didn't know if he was upset that you had gotten revenge for cheating on you... or if it was something else. You wanted to say that it meant nothing. That you were drunk and fucking mad at him... but you couldn't say shit with the tape still over your mouth.

"I have to say, she sounds.. so damn good. Doesn't she?" Jax teased as he asked everyone in the room. Even with Andrei not responding, since he was the one who had his tongue on you, Jax smiled at Simon like he had won or something, "How does it feel?" He walked and stood behind Simon as he leaned down so his face was almost next to his, looking at you, "Tell her." He demanded.

Simon's eyes never strayed away from yours as you continued to cry. The look on his face hadn't really changed, but his eyes told you exactly how he felt. The regret that ran through his soul.... he wished he could been a better man; a better husband. You didn't deserve any of this.. yet you stayed. You had wanted to work on your marriage even after the ugly truth came out. It was his fault, and he would forever kill himself over it. He would be grateful if you ever forgave him, promising to give you the entire world and more after he so much tore yours apart by cheating.

"I love you," he lowly said, making you cry even more. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart... for everythin'."

"Satisfying, isn't it?.. Finally realizing your mistakes?"

Simon finally tore his eyes away from you and looked at Jax, "Let her go."

He paused, acting as if he was thinking about something, "I thought about it," he teased, "but see... I can't do that. She's knows far too much... much more than our girl Williams," he joked - a terrible one that made both you and Simon shoot him the deadliest glare.

He raised his gun up, pointing it at you, making your eyes widen.

"Let her go, Jax," Simon raised his voice, "This is between me and you."

"Oh, it's not just me," he chuckled, "But I guess it would be easier to take you out first." He moved his gun to point it at Simon's temple.

You yelled through the tape and thrashed around as you tried to get out of the restraints. Your skin was probably raw at how much you rubbed at the ropes. You wanted to beg him not to shoot your husband.. you even tried to. But it was pointless.

"Say goodbye to your wife... Lieutenant."

Time felt like it slowed down as you and Simon looked at each other. He looked angry and sad, but no doubt love. He loved you for everything you had given him, everything you had done for him. And if this was the last time he'd see you... then so be it. He was ready... and you didn't want that. You weren't ready to leave him; to say goodbye.

The wails that came from your muffled lips had you choking on the saliva that bubbled up in your throat. You wanted to vomit so bad.

"Close your eyes love," Simon told you. You didn't want to. God you didn't want to. But you couldn't stomach the thought of seeing him die right in front of you, so you shut your eyes tight and waited for the loud popping sound of Jax's gun to go off.

BANG!

The moment the loud pop echoed in the room, your eyes opened as you looked at the scene in front of you. And god, did you begin to wail as you saw your husband. He was slumped over in the chair. A bullet wound at his temple. Jax, who had taken a step toward you as he smiled, made you thrash in your restraints forcefully.

"When they find you... tell them Makarov said hello," he said as he snatched the tape off of your mouth. You couldn't help the loud cry that left your lips as you looked at him with pure hatred.

"Fuck you!!" you screamed, but it didn't even faze him.

He and the rest of the men walked out of the room, Andrei giving you a malicious wink before he shut the door. You couldn't help the loud cries that continued to come from your mouth as you sat there and looked at Simon.

He was dead.

God, you wanted to fucking die with him. The pain of knowing he was murdered all because of something that was bigger than this would haunt you forever.

20 minutes later, heavy footsteps rushed through the door, and you almost thought it was Jax and his men again until you realized that Price, Johnny, and Kyle had come in with their guns drawn.

But it was too late.

The moment they saw how distraught you were and looked at their comrade with his head hanging forward, they knew. The fucking knew that they were too late in rescuing both of you. Johnny kneeled down in front of Simon, putting his fore and middle finger against his neck to check for a pulse like he'd find one. "Fuck," he said as he looked up at the other two men.

Kyle rushed over to you and began to cut away at the ropes that tied you up, and the second you were free, you leaped out of the chair and ran to Simon, wrapping your arms around his neck as you cried. He was cold.. ice cold damn near, but you held onto him like he would somehow take a breath of air.

But you knew he wouldn't, yet you still continued until Price tried to pull you off of him.

"Y/n," he softly said.

"No!" you yelled, "He can't leave me! He can't- He's gotta come back. We have to work through this! Please John... please wake him up!"

Fuck.

His sad eyes eventually met yours as he frowned, "I'm so sorry."

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

Someone once told you in the past to read about the 5 Stages of Grief. You thought it was silly. What did you have to grieve about, when all you wanted was to be happy with your husband? You didn't think about that kind of stuff, especially when it came to him. But hell, did you wish you had picked up on a few things at least.

Denial.

Even with Simon being taken away when the police and corners arrived, you still couldn't believe he was gone. It was like you were waiting for him to come out of every corner to surprise you - like he did at the club. The first couple of days were the worst, as you would call his phone only to hear it ring on the nightstand next to you. The day of the funeral, you almost passed out twice from how everything hurt (physically and emotionally).

Anger.

The anger that flowed through your soul was more than knowing Simon cheated on you. It was more than knowing you cheated on him. You wanted to kill Jax. You wanted to make him pay for taking the love of your life. But you knew that was a crazy thought. It still didn't stop you from breaking things in your apartment - the glass of wine you were drinking out of, the vase on the side table. Days after the funeral, you quit your job because you couldn't stomach the thought of leaving your house because you were afraid and angry that Jax or Andrei would kidnap you again.

Bargaining.

You had no one to bargain with except whatever angels were up above to bring your husband back. And bargaining, you did. You begged and begged and begged like it would make a difference. You had even bargained for the universe to take you instead of Simon; to switch places with you.

Depression.

The worst phase you felt. You wanted to die. You thought about it so many times. It didn't make you feel better when you continued to go to counseling - for different reasons now. You just wanted to be with your husband again. The plaguing thoughts of taking a bunch of pills and never waking up crossed your mind so much during that phase.

Acceptance.

When things finally settled - and fuck did it take a while for that to happen - the only thing that had changed was knowing Simon wasn't going to come back by some miracle. Every other day (if not every day), Price, Johnny, or Kyle would come to check on you, along with Ava, who constantly brought dinner just to make sure you would eat.

It was heartbreaking. Simon was gone. It wasn't like you two had gone through the divorce, but he was gone from you forever.

But what hurt the most was the note you found in your husband's belongings when Johnny brought them from his office. Even he felt weird that they had cleaned out his space there, saying it wasn't right.

It was crushing to read it, and you cried in Johnny arms for a long time that he ended up putting you to bed and calling Ava to stay with you because he had to leave.

The note was written a few days before you were kidnapped. Simon once again apologized for everything that he did, the pain he caused you, and the deep love he expressed to you. He went into detail about his feelings and how he would die for you if it ever came to it.. Fuck it was like he had predicted his own death or something.

Why did life have to be so fucking cruel? Why were things the way they were? Just because you had accepted that he was gone didn't mean you were ever going to be over it. But you could only hope that somewhere up in the skies he was watching over you.

Not going to lie.. this was hard to write because I teared up proofreading this but let me know how you all like it!!

Taglist: @kalypsoox @fruitymoonbeams-blogz @kylies-love-letter @xrosegoldwolfx @linaaaaa654 @jessicab1991 @darkravenqueen98 @yazyazali @thychuvaluswife @chloeforde @cownini @ssc7514

[shooting-love-arrows]

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐘

PAIRING: 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 x reader (gender not mentioned/implied/specified); SYNOPSIS: Your first meeting with him was anthing but charming. Especially when he cornered you to the point, where you know you'll have no choice but to submit. TW. implied age gap, manipulation, threatening (?), red flag, power imbalance;

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

"How can I help you, sir?"

"Be my sugar baby."

You blinked owlishly, trying to process what this customer said and if it was on the menu. When in fact it turned out that it isn't and you connected the words and their meaning, you were ready to burst out laughing.

He can't be serious.

Just by looking at him, you can tell he occupies a high position in some fancy corporation. You were even ready to bet that he was a CEO! It was a mystery itself why he was here, in a food chain restaurant in the first place. An enigma why he even said something like that to you, a plain worker who is pretty much opposite in every aspect one could think of.

He is handsome, you give him that. Probably older than you, since his face was more defined and mature. His suit, which you imagned to be tailor-made, colonge that was so strong you could smell it from behind the counter and all the expensive accesories (I mean look at his watch! Worth univesity tuition installment or two!) he had on were probably worth more than what you owned now.

But no, you aren't stupid. Sleep deprived, yes. Hungry, yes. Broke, also unfortunately, yes. But not stupid.

This man must be high then. No other sane and sober and filthy rich man would propose something like that to the (broke) food chain worker during the first meeting.

You took a deep breath, reminding yourself to be calm. He is still your client and you are fighting to be this employee of the month. You can already envision your photo hanging by the cashier and feel the additional money in your bank account. You won't lose your cool now.

Instead, you plastered your best fake smile.

"I'm afraid that's not on our menu sir. Do you fancy something else?"

The man chuckled, as if you told the best and poshest joke known to mankind. Your eyebrow twitched, yet your smile didn't budget.

Calm down...he is high...let him laugh...employee of the month...additional money...!

"You're more amusing than I thought." 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 wiped a stray tear from his eye. "Trust me sweetie, I love how you call me 'sir' but that doesn't change the fact that my request still stays. I want you to be my sugar baby."

"I'm afraid that's not possible, sir."

"Ho ho, everything is possible." 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 hid his hands in the pocket of his pants. He was staring down at you, like you were the most interesting thing he saw in a long while. You began to feel uneasy and slightly curled into yourself. You didn't like how mischievous his smirk looked.

A beat of tense silence passed, before he spoke again.

"I won't back down, sweetie. You know, I've learned that when you really want something, you should fight for it till you'll achieve it. This situation is no different than a business. I provide you safety and money, while you agree to be mine and fulfill my (every) requests." He finished his speech with a smile worth a million dollars, showing off his pearly white and straight teeth.

"Sir -- "

"After all, you wouldn't want your current life to crumble, hm?" You froze when his expression became sinister and his voice lowered to the point of mocking. In your gut you began to feel dread. You knew this feeling bery well. It appears whenever you sense danger. Currently, this man in front of you was a person who you should be afraid of. One thing for sure, he wasn't lying when he said he can destroy you in a matter of one call.

Money rules the world.

"Your measly, little thing, who believes something will change. That it is just a stepping stone. But what if I make it your prison? Force you to be stuck here until you break under pressure? In the end, you'll still agree to be mine, sweetie. It depends on you if you want to suffer or not."

And destroy those who are too weak and gets crushed under its ruthless rule.

"This choice is yours." 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 straightened his back and only now you realized he was holding a sheet of paper. "All you have to do is to sign this..."

You knew you have no choice.

"So pick carefully, sweetie."

All of the published posts on this account/blog belongs to @shooting-love-arrows. I do not consent to my works being: translated, stolen, published or reposted on this and other sites. Likes, reblogs, comments are highly appreaciated. Thank you.

[periprose]

Sweet as Nuka Cola

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Reader

You're an upcoming actress who has a constant flirtation with Cooper Howard. But even if things seem to be off to a good start, a nuclear bomb, a cryogenic pod, and two hundred years of carnage ruins all of it. Is there something to be salvaged from your relationship with Mr. Howard?

Genre: Mutual pining, flirting, slow-burn, angst, friends to kind-of enemies to lovers (no cheating but maybe it's a little murky?)

Word Count: 11k

“Action!”

“Hello. Yes, it’s me.” You wave at the camera, adorned in a classic-red sweetheart neckline dress. “You might know me from ‘Girls Want It All’ or ‘Next Door Babe.’”

Here, you play up your recent bombshell status. As Ed, the director of this advert, keeps reminding you, you need to sell yourself to make customers listen.

You sway in your dress, squeezing your arms and throwing your waist back to plump and push out your chest. The implication of the sex appeal in your movies keeps people watching.

But you’re still a rather new actress, so America might not know you so well. You’re glad Nuka Cola has hired you– if you want to be a star, you need more exposure.

“Do you enjoy feeling refreshed?” You cock your head to the camera, pursing your red lips. “Well, golly, what a silly question. Who doesn't?”

“That's where Nuka Cola comes in.” You lift a bottle out of the cooler next to you, all gentle in demeanour, showing off the logo of the bottle to the camera, in your perfectly manicured hands. “With triple the amount of caffeine found in competitor's bottled cola, it's sure to keep you feeling up for a long, long time.”

“And it's good for you.” Ed whispers, a last minute adlib you did not agree to, but you're a professional, so you add it on with a little wink.

“And it sure as heck is good for you.” You smile, the infamous smile that's won you notoriety to Hollywood execs for being the newest bombshell on the block, and you throw your shoulders back as you really lean into your image. 

“Cut! That's a wrap, everyone!” Ed, wanting to finish early, quickly starts ushering everyone out so not a cent more gets spent. 

You immediately relax out of your practised, professional smile. “Any ADR needed?”

“Don't think so, but we'll let you know.” The director is already moving onto whatever his next project is. Advertisements make more money than anything else these days.

You head over to catering, where you're craving– not a Nuka Cola, considering how much sugar is in that thing it's hardly refreshing at all– but an iced tea. 

You stretch out your ankles in your kitten heels as you prepare it. If you told your Ma back in Mojave that the worst thing about fame would be the uncomfortable outfits, she'd smack you. So you keep it to yourself– you're grateful, you're humble, you'll never be an entitled asshole like those fucking execs.

“Watch out, I'm behind ya.” A man gently presses your shoulder as he walks next to you.

You know that voice. Famous movie cowboy, devilishly handsome, easy to admire. A career worth emulating.

“Mr. Howard?” You turn to look at him, and it is him. Wearing a tuxedo suit, smiling his classic, rugged grin at you.

“The one and the only.” He laughs in a self-deprecating way, as a man tired with his fame and used to mocking it. “Hey, wait, don't I know you?”

You immediately feel your face heat up. “Probably not– lots of people have mistaken me for Lucky Yates so far…”

“No, I do know you.” He points a finger at you, while pouring himself a mug of black coffee. “I told you mister, I'm not here for a long time. Just a good one, and if you can't provide it for me, I'll be inclined to look elsewhere.”

Cooper Howard does a perfect impression of your girly, haughty tone from “Girls Want It All”, and it surprises you that he even knows your dialogue that well. You're not used to this much attention, especially not from one of Hollywood's most notable movie stars.

He says your name.

“Yeah, that's me.” You say sheepishly– even though you know you have to fake that confidence, it's hard when you've been caught off guard. You're starstruck– you don't know how to operate, now realizing that even celebrities are noticing you. “Just shooting an ad for Nuka-Cola.”

“Ah, that’s smart of you.” He leans in– about to give you a bit of Hollywood advice, no doubt– and you feel yourself turning warm at the attention he’s giving you. “I wouldn’t expect any less from one of Hollywood’s upcoming stars– residuals aren’t enough to make the world go round.”

You know he’s admiring your street smarts, but you have to ask. “Upcoming, really?”

“Miss, I’m not sure many other actresses could’ve delivered that little monologue I just did without, er, pardon my language,” Cooper takes a sip of his coffee, his eyes peering down at you over the perimeter of the cup. “Fucking it up. Pantomiming too much wily, feminine shit  that execs love, without that little edge of real, subtle emotion. I’m not the only one who thinks so.”

You giggle a little. “C’mon, really? I hardly got to act the way I wanted to.”

“That’s how it starts. Little moments, little subtleties where you’re letting your real character shine through– it’s noticeable to the industry. More opportunities come that way. But it’s smart to use, uh…” Cooper swallows, a tiny, imperceptible thing that reminds you of your bombshell image, that he must be thinking about it. “Smart to use such attractive imagery, if you get my drift. The public will eat you up.”

The way he drawls that latter part makes you feel excited, but you keep it down– it’s well known Cooper Howard is a married man, and you are not about to be ruined by an affair. Even if he does sound sort of flirty, this sort of complimenting is so common in Hollywood.

“What are you doing in the advertisement shooting lot?” You ask, changing the subject, and Cooper shrugs, a nonchalant ripple of a movement that tells you his general cool demeanour isn’t just acting.

“Promised my wife I’d shoot an advert for her. Vault-Tec, you know?” He admits, telling you he hasn’t forgotten about his wife, either. “Gotta head to the experimental Vault they’ve set up next door.”

“Yes, of course.” You, like anyone else, have seen the ads of Cooper in the Vault-Tec suit– it’s a rather controversial thing to be partaking in, but you think he knows what he’s doing.

“Well, Nuka-Cola.” He hands you an iced tea– one you didn’t even notice him making for you as you were talking to him. “I’ll see you around.”

/

The Ghoul walks around the wasteland, two hundred something years into the future.

He’s searching for a bounty– Leopold St. West– worth at least 1000 caps, and it’s terribly difficult to find him when every single person claims he’s in all these different locations, not a single one correlated to each other.

So he’s walking around a destroyed neighbourhood, where Leopold was last seen a day ago, if his fellow ghouls are to be trusted. If he had to guess, these are the remnants of China Town– the faux Asian-esque details, the cheesy red colouring, the false authenticity Hollywood loves to portray as “good as the real thing”. God, Coop does not miss some parts of the fame.

He suddenly stumbles over a piece of the broken sidewalk. Coop’s usually pretty agile, nonchalant on his feet– he knows this feeling. He’s going through withdrawal.

“Shit, I need a minute.” He mutters to himself, feeling a bit woozy.

He's only got a couple more vials of drugs, so he can't be using them all willy-nilly. No, he needs to recoup things and go through this carefully.

Shelter is necessary– the longer Coop is out in the sun, the harsher the effects of withdrawal feel. And, if he’s lucky, one of these buildings might have something for him to loot– more drugs if he’s extra, extra lucky.

Coop enters a nondescript building– where a radroach is waiting, and he immediately fires at it without even looking, killing it in one shot– and he sees the sign over the entry way, marking the lobby.

This is some Hollywood executive-owned club. It’s hard to tell– two hundredyears of wear-and-tear will do that for you– but Cooper Howard distinctly remembers this place, maybe in some conversation back then, maybe when he was networking. 

Every single thing has a distinct, thick layer of grime over it. Coop thinks of sweaty strippers dancing, actors cheating on their wives– they’re all probably dead now.

He reaches into his satchel and takes a hit of one of his vials– and hopes he can replace what he uses with something here.

There’s not a single bottle behind the bar, and he jostles through, not seeing a chem or a drug left behind by anyone on the floor or behind the counter, and he’s mildly disgruntled over how every place has nearly everything picked clean by raiders, wastelanders– just other people. Coop will always loathe these other assholes.

He climbs the broken stairs with a lanky, languid stretch, making it over a fairly large hole where a corpse waits on the floor below. A raider who didn’t watch where he was stepping. That tells him there should be loot up on this upper floor– at least a bit of it.

He walks to the one closed door in a less-than-discreet hallway, gold sconces and railings marking the way.

“Ah… private office.” Coop jiggles an ostentatious handle to a mahogany door, that is surely leading to an even more pretentiously ostentatious office, and he finds that it’s locked.

A good sign. Most likely no one’s ever been in there, because it’s probably a difficult lock to pick. 

It surprises him that no one’s ever just forced their way through.

Coop doesn’t waste time on this though– he just takes a teeny gun out of his bag, fires it, and admires the hole in the door where the handle used to be. The door creaks open on it’s own, and he saunters into a well furnished, dusty office room.

“Nope, nope, nope…” He pushes box after box in the shelves next to the wall, and they fall with loud clatter– loaded with panicky, nuclear-war-on-the-horizon type shit, like canned meats and beans and preserved jams and pickles. “Fuck no.”

He pushes off a toy figurine of Vault Boy down with extra gusto.

Coop looks behind the desk, where there’s a dusty placard reading Adrian Amos II. He grins– one of the worst producer bastards of all time is not someone he’d feel bad about stealing from, even if there was still some conscience left in him. No, sir, Adrian Amos the second did not deserve any sympathy, especially after the way he was known for bitching about salaries, abusing PAs, and having a predilection for going after less-than-consenting women.

Coop grits his teeth, remembering that asshole and how terrible and gaudy this club was back then. Not that it was better now– but he’s grateful for one man’s deserved death, at least.

He jostles open where the second drawer is filled with the glass clinking sound of many, many vials.

“Fucking jackpot, Jesus.” Coop stares down at how many there are– at least 40 or 50– a hell of a lot to just be left behind.

Well, based on the other supplies, Adrian Amos got fucked over and either didn’t make it to his vault in time, or forgot to run to his private club before heading in.

Coop doesn’t give a fuck, though. He starts piling the vials into his cases, and then back into his bag.

There’s a sudden whirring sound near him. “Huh?”

To his left, an imperceptible secret door has pushed itself outwards, decorated in the same dark brown wallpaper as the rest of the room.

Coop looks down and under– he’s accidentally pressed a secret button on the underside of the drawer. “Fuck.”

He doesn’t know what would be inside the secret room– assassins, raiders waiting on someone to dupe? Maybe even synths, just meant to protect Amos when he needed it.

Inside the room, it’s dark, and he can’t make out anything. Coop can only draw his gun rapidly when there’s a blue light suddenly emitting out from the inside.

He’s careful as he approaches– last thing Coop wants is an ambush– and as his vision improves, he sees it’s a cryonic pod, all frosted over so he can’t make out who’s inside.

Coop sighs, ready to leave it behind– he’s not interested in waking up Amos– and instead, the thing whirs, heating up it’s insides with extremely hot steam, and then opens up with a mechanical flourish.

Coop instinctively steps back, coughing “Holy shit!” as the air whooshes past him.

A body falls out, just looking slightly frosted– mostly thawed by whatever the cryo tank just did. 

/

You're on set again, sitting in a free lawn chair while others get ready for their take– it's not for a Nuka-Cola ad, it's just a guest appearance on everyone's favourite sitcom, The Grady Group, where you play an overly promiscuous babysitter who has no sense for watching over kids.

It's comedic, it's an easy way to get laughs– plus it actually boosts the shows’ ratings since you've been in movies and all. You’re done filming already, you’re just sitting here watching the rest of the shoot, dragging out your return to your car, and then back home. 

Something about the fictional family you wait on, Gill and Gina Grady, and their kids Gideon, Gessica, and Gwen, it makes you miss having a family of your own. In fact, you have half a mind to call your mother, despite all the bitching she’ll give you about the things you haven’t done yet.

It also doesn't help that Gill and Gina are a couple in real life– named Arthur and Bea Smith, they really, really are in love, and in between takes they're often canoodling with each other.

You're happy for them, if not a little– jealous, despite the fact that you're not interested in dating anyone right now. At least, you thought you weren't, but you find that lately, when you return back to your apartment all lonesome after a shoot, you feel like something is missing.

“Hey. Nuka-Cola.” Cooper Howard strolls over to where you're sitting, and you smile up at him, covering your eyes from the sunlight streaming through the windows.

“Mr. Howard. Shooting today?” You ask, and he shakes his head.

“Not at all. Just lounging around, waiting for my kid.” He sits in the lawn chair next to you, leaning back, crossing one leg over the other. “Janey is on a field trip at a museum next door– I thought I’d kill some time before picking her up.”

“Ah, cute.” You grin. Janey Howard is an absolutely precious kid– she shares her dad’s smile, but has a curious nature that you admire. “Is she well?”

“As well as kids can be at that age, running around all the time.” Cooper shrugs. “You know how it is.”

“Kind of. I actually did used to babysit kids, so I know– they can never sit still or mind their business.” You laugh as Cooper grins. 

“So you went method for your guest appearance, huh?” He asks, and you’re mildly baffled.

“How do you know about that?” You squint at him, just being jokingly suspicious.

“Oh, I saw a few clips of your footage. While I was walking over here.” He points over at Stu, the director, standing on the living room set, watching clips on his viewfinder. “Seemed pretty natural to me.”

It almost bothers you that he seems so interested in you and your work, that he always voices support– but he’s well-known for being happily married, for being content in general, unlike you.  

Still, better a friend than nothing at all, that’s what you always tell yourself.

“Thanks. But it’s not hard being around kids, is it?” You reminisce being a kid in Mojave, playing with your friends on your street– and then as a young adult, babysitting new kids that still wanted to play with you. “I still sometimes feel like I’m just a kid pretending to be an adult.”

“That never goes away, darlin’.” Cooper laughs, and you blink. “Being an actor, especially, you’re never losing that childhood sense of wonder, you get my drift?”

“Yeah, of course.” You nod. “I just don’t feel complete, I guess. I’m still waiting for the moment I’ll know I’m an adult– like maybe if I get married or something like that.”

“Being married didn’t change that for me either. Neither did being a dad.” He winces, and scratches at his stubble. “Just don’t tell anyone I said that, but I think it’s all apart of being a human person.”

Your face turns a little more glum at that, and he wonders what he said that bummed you out. It’s not his intention– he wants to cheer you up.

“What’s with the sad, forlorn, ‘I’m-a-pretty-girl-come-comfort-me’ look?” Cooper utters as he leans in, and you laugh a little but silence yourself, recognizing his compliment.

It’s dangerous to flirt with this guy, this taken man who has nothing to gain but a bit of affection he may be missing, but you see that he knows his compliment had effect anyways– and he definitely likes that.

You just choose to assume it’s entirely friendly.

“I just… I like the thought of having a family.” You suck in air,at how foolish and girly this sounds, hardly the cutthroat businesswoman you need to be out here. “This is stupid, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it isn’t.” Cooper taps his arm rest, thinking. “You’re hurting, I can tell. You got that same pissed off look most ladies get when they ‘don’t wanna talk’ but they’re holding tons of shit inside.”

Damn this guy, you think, but you decide to be honest.

“I just didn’t think it’d be so lonely out here. In Hollywood.” You press your palms together. “Like, everywhere I go, I’m surrounded by classic Americana, the nuclear family– and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m jealous.”

“As a bachelorette, don’t you got plenty of options?” Cooper grins. “I mean, are men not lining up to court Nuka-Cola girl?”

“Ah…” You hum, thinking of dates you’ve had here, settling back in your seat. “I don’t know– it’s cheesy but I want more sincerity.”

“In that case, don’t be jealous, marriage ain’t all that.” Cooper tuts, knowing that you of all people should hear about how it doesn’t complete you. “It’s not perfect, it’s not a magical fairy-tale where everything gets solved, it’s a hell of a lot more work than people let on.”

“Oh.” You knew that, deep down– but hearing it from him really solidifies that for you. It’s a silly dream.

It sounds like he’s speaking from experience, so you quiet down. But you’re not trying to get your hopes up about that or anything.

“And you’re not an idiot, Nuka-Cola. Don’t get into something you’re not a hundred fucking percent sure about.” Cooper clicks his tongue. “If you really feel the urge to suddenly go and play wife with someone, just for me, make sure he’s absolutely worth it.”

“For you?” You raise your eyebrows at that.

“I figure you won’t do it for yourself. Love is blind and all that.” He points at himself. “But if I, as your buddy Cooper, hold you to that? I’ll bet that you’ll vet every single guy.”

“Oh, really.” You smirk at him, your nose scrunching a little. “Is that for my benefit, or yours?”

“Uh…” Cooper is truly caught off guard here. He knows he didn’t intend anything by what he said, but it does feel like… he won’t enjoy the fact that if the next few times he talks to you, continuing become close to you, he’ll have to get the approval of some man.

Some man who wouldn’t even know you as long he has known you. He always likes his chats with you, and there’s an urge inside him not to let you go.

He thinks again that you’re a little too spontaneous. Not easy to dupe, no– he can’t just flirt with you for fun because you’ll always pick up on it, even if he did it by mistake.

“No comment.” He finally answers with a raspy, low tone, one that you barely hear but are satisfied by.

/

A few months later, you check your face in your little compact mirror before stuffing it in your purse and heading inside Sebastian Leslie’s home. Exciting, yes, because this is the first time you’ve been invited not just to network, not just because a big name has seen you in the movies and wants to flaunt that they know you tangentially.

No, this is the first time you know someone, you’re actually in with a crowd– you’re friends with the host. You don’t feel nearly as awkward walking into Sebastian’s comfortable home and seeing familiar faces that you’re close with, decor that you already recognize.

“There she is.” Sebastian greets you with a tight hug– for a massive flirt he’s actually rather protective of you sometimes. “Love the dress, by the way– is that a vintage Chanel? Black is very flattering on you, my dear.”

You get the sense he didn’t want you to be involved in this industry sometimes, but other times– he likes that you put work in.

“I saw your newest advertisement on TV yesterday.” He comments, and you giggle.

“Was it good?” 

“Yeah, amazing as usual– but you gotta do more than that.” Sebastian holds your hand as he pulls you into the crowd of other low-level actors, people who could risk showing up, really, and you fix your dress, a black one with a low square neckline. “Look into Vault-Tec– I’ve been telling Cooper here about how our futures are totally going to be surrounded by their products, even though that fucker does not want to listen.”

Cooper’s lounging in a low sofa in the pit of this living room, holding a crystal glass full of amber liquid, black button up shirt half open– he looks dishevelled, hair slightly askew, jaw off-kilter as he presses his tongue into his cheek, thinking. Lost by something, but still put together as celebrities are. Geez, you really need to temper your attraction to him.

It doesn’t help how he looks at you, either– there’s something deep and reverent about his gaze, like he wants to believe whatever he sees when he’s looking at you– but you have no idea if it’s real, or if it’s just an act like with most of these celebrities.

You used to see him a lot more frequently too, over the last few months. Either at set, or at more fancy parties– most of which he’s been perfectly pleasant and kind to you.

“Of course you’d label me as some fucking chairman for them, Seabass.” Cooper slams back half a pint of whisky, and pours himself some more. “Hey, Nuka-Cola.”

“Hey, Mr. Howard.” You smile gently. You’ve heard about his divorce– everyone has, but you’re not 100% sure why it’s happened, why now when things seemed to be going so well for him.

Well is relative, though. You know loads of actors have decried him privately– no one wants to hang out with the man promoting the end of the world, apparently. It must be a tough thing to only be hired for your wife’s advertisements– and even then, you don’t exactly agree with what they’re marketing, either.

You don’t feel so strongly against Cooper, though. Maybe because you do like him– but also because you know what it’s like to have your image connected to something you don’t really promote. Nuka-Cola isn’t healthy, it’s got enough sugar to induce instant death when drank regularly. But you do it for the connections, the money– and you’re sure Cooper did too.

“Cooper is fine.” He grumbles, and you remember his last name is maybe a sore subject right now.

“Sorry.” You do your best to be delicate as you sit next to him, and Sebastian sits on the other side of you. “How’re you, Cooper?”

“Not bad. If you count being divorced as being alright.” He sighs, and you feel terrible that you even asked. “It’s like I never knew her, man– I thought Barb was different. Or they changed her, I don’t fucking know.”

“She had her eyes set on the prize. As did you, Coop.” Sebastian states, and Cooper turns, affronted.

“We’re all interested in money and glory, Seabass. Fuck you if you think otherwise.” Cooper tenses, and you feel a bit awkward listening in on this conversation.

“What did I say that negates that? I’m as money hungry as they come.” Sebastian shrugs. “I only meant that– despite it all, making money was what you had in common, evidently not the world-going-nuclear shit. Maybe you’ve got a heart of gold, a change of mind, I don’t know, Cooper. But throwing away an easy life just to pay alimony must be fucking awful, so I just don’t think you’re in it for the money anymore.”

“You’re fucking telling me.” Cooper sniggers. “I don’t think Barb cares. I’m here with no career, and she’s out there getting promoted in Vault-Tec. As for the heart of gold… any former marine would’ve been against that shit.”

You want to ask what shit, but you don’t want to overstep your boundaries. You get the general fear of nuclear war– but Cooper sounds more personally affected by it.

Cooper glances over at you. “What do you think? Better to be richer than you can spend in a lifetime, or to be out with a good conscience?” 

“I don’t know if I’m that interested in money.” You say honestly, and Cooper raises his eyebrows.   

“Really? Nuka-Cola’s a saint, huh.” He chuckles– he’s clearly a bit buzzed.

“No, I’m not. Of course I want to have a career.” You think about this carefully, so it doesn’t sound insincere. “Making money is nice– but I don’t think I have the right to say it should come at the cost of human lives. You know Nuka-Cola is terrible for you, right? ”

Cooper stares at you for a moment too long, and then looks away. “Yeah… addicting.”

He’s definitely not talking about Cola, but you continue on. “Yeah, so just in that way– I disagree with how much power marketing has. We’ve convinced America that they need this– just so some chairman can make an extra dollar.”

Cooper looks at you, renewed by whatever you just said. “Hell, woman after my own heart. That’s damn true.”

“Yes, yes, you two oblivious flirts– there’s no art in filmmaking anymore, just commercialism. Not like it hasn’t been the case for a century.” Sebastian chimes in, and you bite your lip, pretending not to notice how Cooper’s face is smirking bashfully. “But, babe. You’re going to want to make your money before the world fucking ends.”

“What’s that?” You startle, and Cooper laughs sardonically at your surprise, while Sebastian gets up.

“Let me get myself a drink– I hardly want to tell this story sober.” He leaves, and Cooper has half a heart to glare at him– he knows Sebastian is leaving the two of you alone so he can do the dirty work.

Not like his reputation can ever get better, especially by telling this story again with it’s lurid details, but at least it doesn't hurt that he's with you. 

“What does he mean by that, Mr. Howard?” You wince at your use of that. “Sorry– I meant Cooper.”

“Ah, call me what you’d like.” Cooper takes another sip of his drink, leaning back in the couch to the point where he is practically lying down and against you. “It sounds good coming out of your mouth no matter what you pick, Nuka-Cola.”

Now that’s a suggestive, loaded line, and you feel a little more comfortable flirting with him even if it’s a bit of a rebound for him. The end of the world is approaching, right?

“The end of the world?” You prod at him, and he sighs, leaning against your shoulder. 

“It’s fucking ridiculous, what it is… probably never going to happen anytime soon.” Cooper’s tone of voice is hazy as he examines his last sip of whisky in the glass. “No, no. Just something those fucking commies put in my head. I guess they’re not really commies, are they?”

“Unless you elaborate, I can’t say.” You utter back at him, and he pushes down a smile.

“Alright. Vault-Tec’s been selling this nuclear protective stuff, right?” He says, and you nod, your cheek brushing against the top of his hair. “All I can say is that a few… radicals, if you will, think that Vault-Tec might actually be more involved with it than they say. Like, they might be…”

“Not just protective, huh? More offensive? Everyone’s got that feeling, Mr. Howard. And that doesn't sound like a particularly commie-train-of-thought to me.” You hear the sorrow in his tone, even if he’s trying to make it sound like a rumour. “Did you hear this from your ex-wife?”

Cooper winces here. He still feels slightly guilty about spying on her. A part of him thinks they might’ve not divorced if he hadn’t found out– but he knows he was bound to find out eventually, and he would’ve just delayed the inevitable.

“Maybe, Cola. Maybe you’re just sharp.” He whispers, and you smile and he feels it– your skin is intoxicatingly close right now.

“So, odds are?” You ask, just curious, and he exhales.

“Bad. I have to agree with them.” He admits, and it feels exhilarating to admit this– that Vault-Tec is gonna nuke the world at some point, that the radicals are more like minded to him than he’s wanted to believe in the past. “Even if it didn’t cost my movies, I regret partaking in what they were selling.”

That’s a big thing for him to say– you know Cooper loves acting, he absolutely adores playing a hardened sheriff, the last vestige of goodness in the wild, wild west. All the times you’ve visited him on his set– probably during his last contractual movie, now that you think about it– and he was always so excited to show off the architecture and intricacies of the fictional western town they’d set up, share script details and little character quirks so you could have an insider’s viewpoint. He even donned his cowboy hat on you, saying you wore it like a natural.

He loved being the hero, really.

He lights a cigarette, and takes a puff.

“Most big-name connections refuse to talk to me because of this stuff– I’ve basically been dropped out of phonebooks all together. They think I’m still in on it, they think I’ve only stopped because of backlash–” He stops as you begin to scratch his scalp, still leaning against your shoulder, but getting progressively into your neck area.

Jesus, that feels good. He thinks. He hasn’t been intimate in a while– Barb became increasingly more cold to him over the last few months, as their marriage kept falling apart.

“Backlash, really?” You whisper. 

“Yeah.” He stutters for just a moment, because your eyes are peering into his, and for a moment he thinks you could really make it as just a bombshell if you wanted to– then he takes another puff. “When really, I was just backing out of what I thought was really a massive crime against humanity.”

“Are you only telling me this to validate your poor conscience? Remedy that reputation a little?” You ask, and he presses his lips together. 

“Well, I'll be honest, yeah. Of fucking course I'd tell the one woman who seems to be like me on this.” He sounds so certain of you, sounds so sure that you're on his side.

And you absolutely are.

“The world’s about to end, Mr. Howard. You're not a bad man for not wanting to support it. I'm inclined to agree.” You inhale deeply, and Cooper stares at you– something stirs inside him as he does. 

“Kiss me, then. Humour me– since none of this will matter soon.” Cooper murmurs, lying on top of your chest now, the smoke from his cigarette enveloping your face.

He’s so close you barely have to move to oblige to what he’s said– you're second guessing yourself for just a moment, because it feels like a dream that he'd ask you to do this, so out of the blue, such a picture perfect fantasy that you almost don't care about the impending doom, and you press your lips gently to his in an upside-down kiss, his hair brushing against your open cleavage, but Cooper is insistent and leans upward, kissing you with such intensity that your head is spinning afterwards.

God, now that's a movie star kiss. You think.

He kisses you again as Sebastian returns, drink in hand.

“Oi! You two. Jesus Christ, can't keep your hands off each other, can you?” Sebastian pretends to vomit. “C’mon, if I want to talk to you at my party, I should have that right.”

You attempt to pull away– but Cooper, being a little mischevious, perhaps wanting to show off in a way he hasn’t been able to, sits up right and kisses you again, this time normally, just very slowly and passionately though, slithering an arm around your waist in a way that has Sebastian rolling his eyes. 

“Okay, present.” He says, not pulling his arm off your waist. 

“Thanks.” Sebastian shakes his head. “I was thinking we should take the mood off with some party games…”

/

It's about 2 AM when you've finally left the party. Cooper didn't want to let you go– he's crashing at an apartment for the time being, but you really don't want to waste yourself on being his rebound, if he really likes you.

You tell him as much, and he likes that– you really are rather sharp about things. 

“Well. Gimme a call when you realize I'm not kidding around with you.” He says unabashedly, holding your hand, kissing it as you leave.

You’re absolutely sure he's drunk, and he's being a little too clingy– but you want to believe him anyways. 

You walk back to your car, alone. Thinking about if Cooper is worth the damage it could have on your potential career. But then again– the end of the world is coming, right?

So maybe it won’t matter. And you find that you like this, the secret potential of this option, just hanging out with Cooper in a place that used to be America, no more expectations on you both. There’s also the chance you just both die, though.

You shudder.

You don't notice that there's a man in the backseat of your car when you get in, brandishing a chloroform stained cloth.

/

The Ghoul prods at the body that's just fallen out of the cryo pod.

Oh fuck. 

It's starting to stir, whoever it is, and Coop knows he's ready, if this is really some synthetic android-clone thing, to make their life hell. Get some of his anger out on something that doesn’t matter.

Wait– he recognizes that cherry red fabric. That coiffed hair, frosty after being inside the pod. Oh, Jesus… even the makeup is the same as when he last saw you. 

“Ah… shit.” He chuckles to himself in exasperation, because this is beyond belief. “Nuka-Cola, is that you?”

You tilt yourself to the side, eyes bleary, unable to see clearly. Everything’s dark. But you know that voice, you just heard it a couple of days ago.

“Mr. Howard?” You croak out, and he hisses inwards– nobody has called him that in centuries. Nobody knows who he is… except for you, of course. 

“The one and the same, baby.” He licks the side of his gums, deciding to stick with his identity for now. “Well, maybe a little different. You wouldn't happen to know what a Ghoul is, huh?”

“What?” You don't know how long your vision is going to stay black for, but you don't like the sound of that. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“Eyes haven't been opened for… two hundred years. I'll give you some time, Cola.” He sighs; cracks his neck, while you sink back into the floor. “Just imagine the ugliest horror-picture monster you can imagine. Zombie, no nose. That paint a picture for you?”

“...”

“What was that?” Coop can't hear you when your voice is muffled into the tiles of this secret room. He grasps your hair gently, from the root, pulling your head upwards so you'll speak– clearly you don't have the strength to lift up your body. 

“I said, how is that any different from before?” 

“Oh, she's still a jokester.” Coop scoffs– despite himself he snorts– and he lets go of your hair so you land back on the floor with a thump.

“–Ow!” You flinch, and then turn over so you’re on your back. “Still an asshole, huh?”

“Me?” He grins maliciously. Ooh, maybe he can use some misplaced anger on you. “You're the one who didn't call back for several weeks.”

“How could I? You can see I've been trapped in a cryo thing for… however long. Did you say two hundred years?” You flatly ask, and Coop still thinks you're lying.

“Yes, and bullshit. You probably had a couple weeks since I last saw you to call me.” He states, and he doesn’t actually hold a grudge, at least not that much of it in comparison to all the other horrid shit that’s happened to him– he just thinks it's funny to push your buttons after all of that, like looking into a mirror of the past– and you groan.

“No, I didn't. I got in my car after Sebastian's party, and some goon sprayed something in my face, I passed out, and he drove me here.” You start, and you begin frowning in such a way that Coop almost feels bad. 

“Why you, sweetheart?” He shakes his head. “You weren't exactly high up in popularity yet.”

“Exactly. No one would miss me.” You spit out bitterly, remember the end to that night, where you were so unaware of your surroundings, and terrified of being assaulted as you were pushed around into this room, blindfolded.

“Adrian fucking Amos, the fucking Second, thought it would be great if I just became his permanent doll during the apocalypse.” You swallow, and Coop sits down next to you, to listen more clearly. You shift towards his body heat– and to his surprise, he still likes that. “See, his daddy has shares in Vault-Tec, so he decided before nuclear fallout happened, he wanted a guaranteed sex slave from his favourite advertisements.”

“Nuka-Cola.” Coop utters with the slowest drawl, concluding your statement– and you like that.

“Yeah, Nuka fucking Cola.” You grimace. “Then he undressed me, put me in this little number, and threw me in the pod. I barely remember this shit because I was so out of it.”

“Shame. I always wondered why you never called me back.” Coop circles back to his little grudge– but he also feels bad, feels some level of guilt that neither he nor Sebastian had the sense to look out for you back then, and you were practically assaulted (maybe actually so if you didn't remember). 

“Yeah, because I wanted to miss out on that piece of ass. Sure.” You joke feebly, and Coop laughs despite himself. 

“Honey, you're gonna run away screaming when you finally see me. Don't worry about it.” He shakes his head. “The real world's a lot more fucking difficult than would'ves and could'ves.”

“Okay, explain. If you're willing to owe me that much.” You start, and Coop gets reminded of that fateful night a couple hundred years ago, where he was the one to clue you into the impending nuclear war.

Not even three months later, it was all over, and you were nowhere in sight– if his mind ever did drift to you, the what-ifs and who-knows that still persisted– he would always assume you were dead.

Now he thinks you're just unfinished business. 

“Fine.” He taps your shoulder, and you lean a little closer towards him– you touch his hand, and instead of flinching as many people have in the past– you trace the tough, callused skin there.

He thinks there’s something wrong with you. Why do you seem drawn to him anyways? You’re completely fucking up his tough guy, lone-wolf persona by being here, and he wants you gone. He pulls away his hand, ignoring how your face falls for a moment.

Coop inhales, and then starts. “In October 2077, they nuked America, bombed it all to hell. By they, I think we both know what I’m implying.”

“It wasn’t the Chinese.” You interrupt, and he shushes you.

“Yeah, Cola.” He starts playing with his fingers, feeling like you don’t deserve to be here right now. That you should’ve just stayed dead. “Vault-Tec destroyed it all.”

It’s no good. He’s an old man, and you’re still as soft and young as ever. He’s always haunted by his past, like with Barb and Janey, and then Sebastian’s voice in every single Mr. Handy robot he comes by, and then finally, his last couple memories with you.

“The last two hundred something years have been filled with carnage, death, unspeakable horrors that your pretty little mind could never comprehend.” He grits out, pushing past the past and remembering that this is who he is now– a killer– and you stare at him vacantly, because his tone is so much more serious suddenly. “Nothing is the same. Everyone has blood on their hands, water is a fucking commodity, if you’re not watching out for humans to betray you, hideous creatures like me roam the ground, and that ground? Sands, deserts, barely a hint of green. It’s nothing worth coming back to.”

“So you’re saying I’m in hell.” You suddenly inhale harshly, and Coop ignores the urge to check on you.

The last thing he needs is an extra person to take care of– especially someone who doesn’t know the Wasteland. So it’s better now that he just weans you off and leaves you here.

“Yeah, sweetheart. And I'm the devil.” Coop sucks on his teeth again. “If you had any sense, you’d go back into that fucking freezer until some utopia is born four hundred years from–”

You flinch, and he stops. 

“Oh, God, my eyes–”

The sight comes back slowly then all at once. Light everywhere, overwhelming your senses. 

You blink, tears rolling down your face. 

“Maybe it would’ve been better if you stayed blind, Cola.” He stares at you as you rub your eyes, taking in the state of the room. 

It’s a warning, but you look up at him again anyways. And Coop waits for the utter horror, for the sign that he really has transformed into a monster, so he can hurry up and leave– this entire conversation with you is just him finishing Cooper Howard’s past with a bow. A shiny, Nuka-Cola-red bow.

“...” You swallow, and then bite your lip, tilting your head up at him. “Couldn’t let go of the cowboy identity, huh?”

Coop furrows his non-existent eyebrows, disliking how hard you’re making this, how clever you still seem to be– you also seem way too relaxed with him. He has half a mind to fire a warning shot at you. “Yeah, okay, darlin’. You’re just avoiding facing that horrific, bile-inducing sensation in your throat, aren’t you?”

You shake your head, disagreeing immediately. “You might look– a little less like how I remember you, I guess… but you’re still you. I see it, and apparently so do you.”

How dare you? Coop thinks, how dare you intertwine his two images together so easily when he could never be the same man again, when just seeing an old VHS tape of one of his movies pains him?

“Yeah, no thanks. If this is your way to get me to valet you around, I’m not that man anymore, Nuka-Cola.” He resents the way you think he could still be good– just because his western image brings him a little comfort nowadays. “Not a sheriff anymore.”

Your face drops, but you seem to take that information readily. “Yeah, I figured that based on your outfit, the little blood splatters on your pants… if that’s how the world is, then so be it.”

You’re saying things that on paper should be right– but Coop is getting more and more disgruntled with you, and you feel like you need to separate yourself from him. Yes, tough, because to you it’s been all of forty-eight hours since you kissed him– but you can see, no matter how deep the original Cooper Howard is inside this new Ghoul, you’re not going to be able to bring him out.

You stand up, on shaky, bare feet, and motion for Coop to move out of the way. Independent woman to the end, you are, and you want to get your bearings without him.

Coop internally sighs. He doesn’t believe for one second you’ll survive out there– and he really doesn’t need to spend the time seeing you die, so he turns around, and leaves you here.

/

He never did find Leopold St. West, much to his chagrin– you really, really messed up his day. 

It happens. Sometimes he’ll see Janey in another person’s eyes and freak out, and have to boil it down by murdering random raiders. 

But now Coop is just spiteful. He’s always figured that a lot of what happened to the world was just a bunch of rich people picking and choosing a destiny for themselves to the detriment of everyone else, and now he’s aware that included you, too. To casually be grabbed away by some man, just because he was rich… Coop isn’t unsympathetic to how you ended up, even if he treated you quite poorly. It’s sickening.

Two hundred years of quiet, always-dwelling agony, the first few years out of fear for being alone, and the next few years spent conspiring about what could’ve happened to his family– and then here you are as confirmation of his worst theories.

No wonder he enjoys his casket time.

/

Coop sighs.

Vaultie is hard to keep track of. She got away with murder this time at the organ harvesting clinic– so Coop finds it easier to stop working with her, to move when he wants to.

The Govermint (really just Booker’s shitty gang) was rather easy to dismantle. The two sheriffs that he killed required no expertise on his part.

He’s thinking about the fact that since Moldaver is still alive, and apparently that fucker Hank MacLean, then that means there’s a good chance Barb and Janey are too– perhaps he could go and find them.

It’s an odd urge, though. Everytime he thinks about it, he wonders how he’s actually supposed to connect with them again– they’ve been fractured for so long, and he’s changed, and there’s a good chance neither of them would accept him like this.

But you did, didn’t you? You were on the verge of saying yes, you’d accept him– as if nothing had changed.

Coop grumbles. The big, significant difference is that you were infatuated with him, but Barb divorced him, and Janey was too young to make that choice. He considers that it could be a pipe dream, but he still has hope– for Janey, at least.

He thinks you’re probably dead anyways. He hasn’t seen you in several months, since that day where he unceremoniously woke you up– and he hopes it stays that way.

He's chilling in another small, scrappy area of the wasteland. Nobody bothers the Ghoul, not when he's casually fiddling with his gun and and chewing on a toothpick.

A man runs past him, holding a significantly valuable piece of Brotherhood equipment. Maybe worth thousands of caps if he knows his shit, and he does. That’s a fusion core, and they’re not exactly mass producing those anymore during the apocalypse.

Coop points his gun at him, finger on the trigger, seconds away from creating a bloody mess–

A blade thwacks into the guy’s neck, blood spurting as he falls and chokes. A person– a woman– jumps on his back, her face obscured by a deep green bandana . She yanks out the knife, stabs a few more times for good measure– and Coop knows the game, he’s not surprised he’s not the only one to go after this guy.

He’s pretty good at killing casually, and he barely even moves from where he’s standing, aiming the gun at her.

No way is he letting easy money pass by him.

He’s about to pull the trigger extra-quick when she yanks the bandana down, taking a deep breath as she sweats, and Coop actually misses.

It’s you. You stare up at him from where you’re squatting over the body, and your gaze hardens, furrowed brows, dark lashes, intensely dark pupils. You purse your lips, press them together, jaw set in a stern fashion, recognizing him but refusing to hear him out– and Coop doesn’t know why he’s not firing, but he’s almost… enamoured with how you are now, almost taken aback by your new nature.

Not so taken aback that he doesn’t immediately start firing when you take the fusion core and start running.

And Coop doesn’t want to actually kill you, he just wants to incite some damage. See how far you can take it.

You interweave through random gaps in the metal scraps of this little abode, seeking shelter as you do so, and Coop’s gunfire only ricochets off them with cartoony sounding “pings!”

He manages to graze your left thigh through a small window, and you inhale sharply, stopping as you grit through the pain.

Coop grins to himself. This little cat and mouse chase is what he expected, what was predictable from you– you’re smart enough to stay on the defense, but you would probably never attack him, avoiding him because of your sad feelings of the old times, never resort to carnage unless you needed to–

You shove past the walls where you’ve been roaming, and manage one kick against his stomach and he manages to grab you and restrain you, your back against his front.

You grab his own jacket for purchase, and instead of pulling forward– you push back, landing on top of him with a thud that surely hurts him. Coop clenches his teeth, back against the ground now, but you scramble, straddling him. Hands around his throat, knife pressed against one of his tendons. Not outright strangling him, but just enough pressure that he knows you’re seriously threatening him.

Holy fuck, have you changed. Just like Vaultie, maybe you’re showing your honest self– and Coop supposes it may have been his mistake to underestimate you.

“Got a whole new outfit… I like it.” He admires your new leather jacket, cargo pants around your thighs pushing his arms down, a blouse fashioned out of your old Nuka-Cola dress. Tough combat boots dig into his thighs as you push against him. “Don’t fucking start–” You squeeze a little harder and he groans, the tip of the knife pushing in. “With your on and off, hot and cold bullshit.” 

Ooh, it sounds like you have a little bit of a grudge over how you were treated.

“Get over it, Cola. It was centuries ago, whatever we had.” He spits out, and you have a glint of sadness in your eyes.

He knew you were a little too gushy for your own good– not even he adapted that quickly to the wilderness of the Wasteland. He waits for you to make the mistake, apologize, break down– and then he can take the core and get out of here.

But you’re still firm in your grasp of him, your weight pushing him down, blade against him.

You’re not angry about back then. You’ve come to terms with that.

You’re angry at the state of the world. 

“You know what I fucking hate, Ghoul?” You spit in his face, and he blinks, spittle now on his chin. “You are all so selfish. I got left behind, likely for dead, right, and nobody gives a shit, whatever. But instead of me hoping that the leftover crumbs of society would at least try to be, I don’t fucking know, more hopeful and kind, or at the very least, not be so fucking greedy and transparently trying to be the new party in charge.”

“You’re living in a dream world.” Coop interrupts, and he’s rewarded with you carving a small, little cut on his cheek, a rapid movement you hardly think about, and it causes him to inhale sharply, a drop of blood smearing across his face.

“Oh, no. I’m not asking for everyone to hold hands and play family.” You laugh suddenly, and then somehow lean in closer, and Coop finds that in some fucked up way he enjoys the pressure against him. “It’s bullshit, that kind of image making– you and I both know that. But for all this supposed talk against the rich billionaires who ruined our lives, how are we not just emulating them?”

Coop is actually drawn to silence.

“Maybe you actually got fooled by self-image, Cola.” He murmurs. “Or maybe that’s just people’s true nature.”

You don’t like that answer. You don’t actually want to believe that, but the more you think about it, the more it’s probably true. People lie all the time, but the amount of outrage you’ve heard from people the last few months, bemoaning Vault-Tec and all those rich fuckers, you were inclined to believe they wouldn’t act the exact same way.

Just at a different level. Power corrupts all, you guess.

You loosen your grasp a little. “Thank you.”

It’s honest, and Coop doesn’t like how much he does like your nature of trusting him– how even as this new, terrible version of yourself, you still trust him, and you still ask for his advice.

He doesn’t know what to make of this, but he thinks maybe he can get some use out of you yet.

Coop wrangles his arm from out under your thigh, where you’ve accidentally let a gap through, and shoves you over.

You fall with a gasp, hitting the ground, and he stands up and kicks you for good measure, while you screech in pain. 

Coop picks you up by your throat, and you instantly move to fighting– your blade against his stomach, teeth gritted in resolute urge to kill– but he’s got his pistol at your neck, and the way he brushes it against you is almost like a lover’s embrace.

“One thing I hate is a fucking liar, Cola.” He grumbles, and you glare at him. “You’re not some innocent– why else do you got a fusion core in your pocket?”

“I never claimed I was a good woman.” You shake your head. “I just wonder why the Brotherhood, the Enclave, hell, even some of the Raiders… everyone wants the ultimate piece of the pie.”

“Besides, you’re the one who kept saying to survive out here I’d have to be a killer.” You remind him, and he looks down at you, thinking. “The world’s grieving– I don’t blame it for that, I feel the same way.”

You’ve still got a way with words, he thinks, and he was right. He can use you for his benefit.

“Say, Nuka-Cola. Why don’t we take some of those fuckers down?” He stills. “Not randoms. The power-hungry pie-eaters, like how you so eloquently put it.”

You don’t fully trust him again, but you’re into the prospect. You don’t want power, and you know he doesn’t either, but it’s not just looting. No, no, this is something akin to revenge.

“Alright.” You whisper.

“Alright. Okay, I won’t shoot if you don’t cut me.” He speaks softly, slowly, trying to cajole you out of attacking– and you move as he does. 

The threatening air of before is gone now, and the Ghoul has only a odd stare for you, something that makes you feel watched, almost reminding you of two centuries ago. It could be that he doesn’t trust you either– and so you walk onward with a gap between you two, heading to wherever a faction that needs fucking up could be.

/

Coop strolls inside the makeshift bar as you make conversation, staying within the shadows. It’s not on official Enclave grounds, it’s simply a nearby bar where members have been known to hang out. 

He doesn’t exactly mind being the one to pick up the slack of killing people– he can tell you’re good at charming people what with your former bombshell acting techniques, your silly, soft blinks, the way how your skin still looks smooth and untouched.

Was it all a lie with him? Aw, shit, why does he care? He really doesn’t have time to wonder if he’s been manipulated by you– he won’t be manipulated by you now, when he gets rid of many the people who represents obstacles in his way to finding still-existing Vault-Tec members.

Yes, that’s all this is to him. Another step to finding Moldaver, Henry MacLean, then his family if he’s lucky. And you’ll get some rage out of it, so he doesn’t even consider this to be that bad of an evasion of his. 

You laugh at something the guy next to you says. Coop catches a bit of it, of him asking how you look under that big jacket– and you mentioning you’d like to see him without that government get-up, too.

He grits his teeth. He’s not fucking in love with you, or anything stupidly juvenile like that– but he definitely felt something before when the two of you were fighting, or when you had conversations during the long, arduous talk here– you bit into a piece of his jerky when he offered it, and he laughed in surprise that you didn’t spit it out after he revealed it was feral ghoul ass jerky.

He also found that his gaze kept being drawn to you, too. You kept up with him, you were capable of hunting and searching on your own, you took lives when the need arose, and you had his back, even if he didn’t ask for it.

You made him subconsciously draw from the past, reminiscing about a time with you and a future he never thought he’d revisit. And now he can’t ignore that, so he needs to let off some steam.

There’s a splatter of blood across your face as the guy in front of you splutters, a bullet hole shot through his forehead. Little pieces of flesh hit the bar counter as he falls, and you gasp.

Coop is kind of quick with it now– he fires off, and because these “politicians” are unprepared, he’s able to kill off more than half.

You get over your shock quickly and fire your own tiny pistol at random, managing a few kills, but the Ghoul takes the last one and looks back at you, with an intrepid glance that you can’t figure out.

“What the hell was that?” You call out, and he doesn’t respond, instead beginning to pilfer the bodies, looking for shit to take. “Hey, Ghoul…”

“We came here to kill off those guys.” He answers you, but it’s not really an answer.

“Yeah, but I thought we agreed on discussing this shit as we were doing it. What happened to signalling?” You approach him, and as you get close enough, he turns around and stares unnervingly into your eyes.

“I did signal, sweetheart.” He clicks his tongue, lying through his teeth. 

“Bullshit.”

“No, I did.” He points at you. “It’s not my fault that you were too busy schmoozing and flirting to notice.”

“Wow.” You laugh exasperatedly at his antics, while he tilts his head. “You’re really obtuse, you know?”

“Nah. I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. You’re gonna say you’re not jealous–” At that word, the Ghoul snarls, ready to tell you exactly how little he cares for you, and you motion for him to zip it. “But at the very instance of seeing me flirt, mind you, in the most fake way possible, you lost it. You can’t even tell the difference between my genuine flirting and the fakest, schlockiest shit?”

“...” Coop frowns, because you’re right– he did kind of let his mind go wild over nothing in particular. 

Even worse, it means he’s made it apparent to you that he still harbours some feelings for your long-ago relationship. And that’s definitely a potential weakness– he does not want you to believe you can just work him around.

“Fuck you.” He spits, and instead of your face flinching in hurt, you stay neutral.

“I know you think you can come close and then shove me off every once in a while, because you’re fucking terrified of what it means that you’re not as hard as you pretended to be, that you still have a bit of human emotion inside you.” You tiptoe up to his face so he can’t avoid you. “I don’t care. That’s your problem.”

You turn to leave, to continue looting the bodies– and Coop’s hand wraps around your wrist. 

He hates what you’ve said, because it’s absolutely provoking the worst issue he has– he can never just let go. Two hundred years of this has made him a different creature altogether, spiteful; evil, but Coop knows as well as anyone that his transformation doesn’t negate his original nature, buried deep down.

It was a lie on his part– people are not as evil as he made them out to be, it’s the cycle of this situation that perpetuates that shit. Violence begets violence and all that. He can’t seem to say this to you, though, because he can tell you already probably knew that.

What is this fuckery, that you’re able to generate such a sense of guilt in him?

“Show it to me again. Genuine flirting.” he says instead, and he knows it’s stupid as hell to say something like this. “It’s been hundreds of years, you can’t expect me to fuckin’ remem…”

You grasp his arm back, making him quiet.

He’s half expecting you to punch him, but you see something you like– something that finally satisfies you, and you kiss his cheek, where you cut him much earlier in the day. It’s a soft bruise, mostly healed over in the way ghouls heal– but it’s overwhelmingly, embarrassingly hot there now as you pull away.

“I won’t forget the difference next time, Nuka-Cola.” He tips his hat at you in a mockery of his acting as a dashing cowboy once upon a time.

“Won’t be a next time.” You shrug. “I would hate to have to flirt with someone again just to get you to notice me.”

This severely bothers him, like you haven’t been an annoyance in his mind this whole time. And then he wonders if you’re an idiot, like you have no idea the effect you had on him back then, and even now. Hell, even that overly-chaste kiss has him remembering how he felt at Sebastian’s party when you humoured him the first time.

Do you think the only thing he’s burying is some empathy for the human race?

He can’t just let you be this wrong about this, no fucking way. And it’s with this in mind that the Ghoul feels his reserve melt as he tightly grabs your face and kisses you. Not a soft, movie-star kiss of the past, but one more hungry, his lips swallowing yours, pressed sternly, firmly, like he’s not gonna let you go. He parts his mouth ever so slightly, trying to catch a reaction from you.

You’re caught off guard, and he’s glad. He likes that you don’t know what to do with yourself, that for once you’re floundering rather than him, and you barely remember to kiss back until a couple seconds later when your hands grasp the base of his skull. You’re tracing grooves, calluses, skin that’s been eroded by his ghoulishness. You feel like he tastes ever so acidic– perhaps from the radiation emitting from his body– but some weird part of you loves it, and you part your lips as you kiss him harder, wanting to feel his tongue.

Your lips are just as soft as he remembers– but there’s more excitement now, more of an urgency as you kiss him, so he takes your invitation and swirls his tongue around on yours, disgustingly vulgar and perversely fast, yet lingering to enjoy the sensation, and he kinda loves being a corrupting force, being the ghoul who eats up this sweet human girl, and he tightens his grip– it almost hurts you, how tightly his hands weave around your waist suddenly– and then before you know it, he pulls away.

He wipes his mouth, never taking his eyes off of you.

“So. Did I taste like Nuka-Cola?” You joke, and he laughs in your face.

“Nope. Darlin, you haven’t been the Nuka-Cola girl for hundreds of years. They replaced you not long after you vanished.” He smiles widely at how your face drops. “I can show you some of the new girl’s billboards, if you’d like.”

“That would explain the lack of revenue.” You raise your eyebrows. “Then why do you still call me Nuka-Cola, Cola, etcetera?”

“That’s how I remember you.” It sounds too sweet, too nice that he keeps your nickname on tabs, so he twists his lips in a sneer. “Plus I don’t remember your name.”

“Oh.” You bite your lip, finding his insult more funny than anything else, and turn around to take items from the bodies around you. “Okay, Mr. Howard.”

It was the optimal moment for you to joke back, calling him the Ghoul, but in classic you-fashion, you decided to extend an olive branch to him– reminding him that he’ll never just be the Ghoul to you. And even if Coop knows he’ll always remember you by Nuka-Cola, he has a fondness for you that he doesn’t neglect anymore– and he murmurs your name so softly, but just enough that you turn back and look at him, and smile with pleased recognition. 

[nanaslutt]

Cockstepping with Sukuna (ft. ur new heels)

ʚ cont: fem reader, established relationship, dirty talk, spanking, manhandling, heel fetish, true form sukuna, finger sucking, cumming in pants

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ ࿔

You stood before the floor-to-ceiling mirror in Sukuna's room, smoothing your hands down the priceless red silk dress he bought you the other day. The fabric draped over your body just right, the back of it dipping just above your ass, leaving most of your skin exposed, just how he liked it. You turned around, looking at the curve of your ass in the mirror before your eyes dipped to your feet--or more accurately, the red bottoms Sukuna bought you to match.

You were so absorbed in admiring your own beauty that you didn't hear Sukuna come in. You let your eyes flit up to his through the mirror as he stepped in front of you, two large hands grabbing your waist. His body in front of yours immediately engulfed your frame, making you look tiny in comparison. You turned your head back around, placing your hands on his forearms as you looked up at him. All four of his eyes were already looking down at you, catching your stare.

To anyone else his expression would seem bored, unimpressed--but you had been around him long enough to know the expression on his face was one of pleasure, he was pleased. "Like what you see?" You teased, tilting your head as you craned your head back to look up at him. The corner of Sukuna's mouth crooked up, barely noticeable before he spun your body to face the mirror, pressing your frame against him as his fingers ticked your stomach from his hold on your waist.

You smiled watching his eyes rake down your body in the mirror, his hands sliding down your stomach and stopping just at the top of your thigh before sliding back up. "My vision did not do this dress justice," he answered, clearly awestruck with how pretty his little human was. "Taking all the credit?" You teased, caressing his arms that held you. "I was the one who picked the dress out, was I not?" He countered, one of his eyebrows raising as he met your gaze in the mirror.

"I guess, but do you really think this dress would look this good on anyone else? Hm?" You asked, tipping your head back against his chest and looking at him upside down. A huff of amusement from Sukuna was all you got before he pulled away and began walking toward the other side of the room to grab his jacket. It wasn't often you saw Sukuna in a suit, or anything other than robes really, so this view was a real treat.

You turned back around to make sure your appearance was perfect as you watched him fit himself into his jacket behind you. "These shoes too, they are so pretty. I can't stop looking at them." You said, smiling down at them as you pointed your toe and turned your heel to look at the shoe in all its glory from all angles. "If you were appreciating them properly, you would know the straps are tied incorrectly," Sukuna said, blocking your view of yourself momentarily before he dropped down to a knee in front of you and grabbed your ankle. His single hand engulfing it and the bottom half of your calf.

You were too shocked at the sight of Sukuna kneeling in front of you that you couldn't think of something snarky to say in retaliation. You lost your balance momentarily when Sukuna lifted your foot and placed it on his knee, his too-large fingers pulling at the straps tied around your calf as you placed your hands on his shoulders to prevent yourself from falling on top of him.

He looked up at you from under his lashes, the sight making the breath in your lungs still before he looked back down and continued his work. As he worked on undoing the mess of strings, you couldn't help but admire the view. His shoulders broad and strong under your hands, his thighs filling out his pants, seeming like they were about to burst from his folded position in front of you, and how wide his back was in the mirror behind him. You would also be lying to yourself if you said you didn't notice the bulge of his cock through his tight slacks, though you didn't think it was because of his arousal. Sukuna was a shower, not a grower.

You shivered and felt goosebumps pebble your skin when his fingers caressed your shin as he retied the strings effortlessly. "Cold?" He asked, not looking up from your shin. He was too observant for his own good. You just stared at him in response, ignoring his initial question before you asked, "Where did you learn to do this?" Sukuna paused and looked up at you, giving you his undivided attention. "I asked you a question, woman." He said instead, ignoring your own.

"Sorry, Your Majesty," You joked, rubbing the sole of your heel down his thigh teasingly. You truly weren't expecting to feel his hand squeeze your ankle tighter, his entire body going ridged under your small caress. Your eyes dipped to the bulge of his pants once more, swearing with everything you believed in that you saw his cock twitch when you did. Every atom in your head felt like it was exploding, you could practically hear the little men in your head running around and screaming at the other "THIS IS NOT A DRILL."

"Are you cold, sukuna?" You asked instead, tilting your head to the side as you caressed the side of his face with one of your hands, the other staying firmly on his shoulder. "I don't suffer from such trivial feelings." He responded in turn, keeping his eyes on yours even when you started rubbing your sole back and forth on his solid thigh at a torturous pace. "No? So you curl up to me in bed in the middle of the night for another reason then?" You teased, a smile spreading across your face as you rubbed your sole higher, noticing the veins on Sukuna's hand pop out as he tried to hold himself back, trying not to squeeze your fragile ankle too tight.

"Your incessant teasing will not work on me, woman." He responded, one of his hands curling around the back of your thigh, almost like an invitation. You lightly pinched his chin in your hand, rubbing your thumb over his plump bottom lip before pulling it down gently, revealing his sharp, white teeth, your eyes following the action. "No? It seems like it's working to me." You responded, finally placing the sole of your heel against the bulge in Sukuna's cock that was now a lot larger than it was before.

The king's eyes fluttered in his head for just a moment, his chest rising deeply as he inhaled almost in relief you were finally touching him. "Does that feel good, my lord?" You asked, using the nickname you knew he loved, even if you often used it to mock him. "I wouldn't know, you are barely touching me." He responded, his sharp canines showing as he smiled fully, a predator's smile. "Not hard enough for you?" You asked, a faux pout on your face as you applied more pressure, so much that you almost thought you overdid it, if not for the sinful groan that left Sukuna's throat, his eyes falling shut.

In that moment you felt yourself ruin your panties. Drenched. Just from a single noise. "Sukuna.." You almost whispered his name, not knowing what you were going to say. The hand curled behind your thigh tightened, as he added a third behind your other one, making sure you couldn't escape him. You pressed down again, feeling like you were stepping on a bolder instead of his cock. Sukuna thrust against your heel, his hand squeezing your ankle as he rubbed it harder against himself, using your heel for his own pleasure.

"Harder." He groaned, his eyes now glowing red as he looked up at you, his hunger evident in his eyes. You swallowed hard, feeling your own need like a beacon going off in every cell of your body. You almost stepped off the floor as you pressed against him, the result being a thrust against your shoe, harder this time as Sukuna's body curled in on itself, needing the pressure. Sukuna placed both of his knees on the ground, sitting back on his heels as he pulled you forward with the two hands behind your thighs, his fourth on the floor next to him, keeping him steady.

"When I say harder, I mean it. I am not fragile like you. Do not hold back." He said, his voice low and full of arousal. You nodded and began rubbing the sole of your red bottoms along his dick, back and forth, in a similar motion to how you would jerk him off. You applied pressure, your thighs tensing as Sukuna held you steady while you literally stepped on his cock. "Yes." Sukuna groaned, his head falling back. "Yes, yes, just like that. Exactly like that." You don't know if you've ever heard him be so vocal with his own pleasure before, and it was making the need to touch yourself intensify tenfold.

You couldn't take it anymore. Your hand slid down Sukuna's neck as you brought it back to you, sliding your hand through the slit of your dress as you easily found your way into your panties. The pressure on your clit felt like a relief like no other, only spurring your actions on Sukuna. You felt his groan vibrate through his whole body before his chin fell and he looked up at you, smiling when he saw what you were doing. "I could smell you. I wondered when you were going to touch yourself." He said cockily.

"This is so hot, I couldn't help it." You responded, your voice breathless as you rubbed quick circles on your clit, your legs shaking against Sukuna's hands that held your thighs. Sukuna licked his lips hungrily and removed one of his hands from behind your legs, removing your hand so quickly you didn't even know what happened until you no longer felt the delicious pressure on your clit. "Too bad I did not give you permission to touch yourself, woman." He responded, smiling like the demon he is.

You groaned, pressing harder against his cock in retaliation for taking something so sweet away from you. The man only laughed through a groan in response, pulling your hand that was rubbing your panties forward. Your jaw fell open in shock when he placed your fingers in his mouth, his teeth grazing them as he swirled his tongue around them, tasting you off your fingers. His eyes closed as his mouth fell open, your fingers covered in his saliva as he held your wrist tightly still, keeping you close.

You gasped, looking down at his pants as he thrusts faster against your shoe, his hand forcing your foot to rub back and forth against him quickly. His hand that was stabilizing himself reached for your leg and wrapped around it. Sukuna was so close you could do nothing but tangle your hand in his hair as he placed his head against your stomach, groaning as he used your sole to get off. "More. Give me more, I need more." He growled, your fingers tightening in his hair as you pressed down as hard as you could, leaving it to him to rub your foot over his erection.

"Yes." He groaned through his teeth, nodding against your stomach. "Yes, my woman, yes, do not stop. Do not change a thing." Sukuna's arms wrapped your legs so tight, so close, keeping the pressure so hard that it was difficult to even breathe. You gasped when Sukuna's head brushed against the underside of your tits as his hips thrust upwards and he rose with his orgasm.

His body jerked and jolted as you felt his cock twitch under your shoe. His hot breath tickled your stomach through the thin dress as you wrapped your arms around his head and shoulders, rubbing him hard and fast at the difficult angle, helping him as he rode out his high. He groaned long and hard as he stilled, his chest rising rapidly as his grip on your body loosened.

You stepped back, allowing him to sit back on his heels and look at the damage you did. The first thing you noticed was the flush of his cheeks and the drool on his chin before you looked further down and saw the massive wet patch he was now sporting on the front of his slacks. You watched him grimace as he looked down at the mess he made, his large hand adjusting himself through his pants before he rose to his full height, brushing off his shirt with two hands.

You covered your mouth as you looked him up and down, noticing how disheveled he and his clothes looked. You pointed at the man, gesturing to his whole body before you met his eyes, noticing his crooked eyebrows as he looked at you. "Uraume is gonna be pissed you ruined their work." You snorted behind your hand. Your humor to the situation was short-lived when Sukuna spun you around and forced your body down over the side of your shared bed, the canopy brushing your arms as you laid stomach down on it.

A sharp slap to your ass made you jump before you felt the press of Sukuna's body behind you, and what you swore was his boner which would be crazy since he came less than a minute ago. "Laugh at me again, woman, we will see where that gets you." You wanted to retort with something snarky, but you didn't want to delay your pleasure any longer, so you shut your lips and nodded your head like the obedient human he wanted you to be right now.