lizzie the lobotomized

fire hazard

You were fucked.

Literally fucked, you thought, if you weren’t careful tonight. The gauze around your hand was your skintone, you’d made sure to ask Fayra for it specifically, and honestly, it was barely anything. Just a little bit of redness, a little tenderness, that it would probably disappear tomorrow morning. 

Dante hadn’t meant it, of course he hadn’t, and how could you have known? You touch Volt daily, and while his burns were intentional, they were never painful. But maybe, there was something different in how your skin reacted to fire incarnate versus electricity personified. 

But there were two men you knew who may not see it so simply. 

When you enter the Breaker Box, you’re greeted with a “live wire!” from behind the bar, and  hurry over to them, Eddie throwing a shaker by his head. You give them both kisses on their cheeks, and settle next to Volt when he throws an arm over your shoulder. 

“Whiskey sour?” Eddie asks, and when you say yes, he grabs three glasses and lines them up on the bar, filling each of them equally, with practiced ease. 

God yes, you needed a drink, you think, as you reach out for it, but you realize your mistake s split second too late.

“Darling, what’s this?” Volt grabs your hand, gingerly touches the small bandage that Farya had wrapped around your palm, inspects the palm of your hand with curious white eyes.

You really were too hopeful, you know you were, thinking they wouldn’t notice, and maybe too stupid to think you could hide it from them.

“It’s nothing,” you try, quickly, to assure him, before looking up at Eddie, whose grey eyes are now locked on to where Volt’s fingers hold yours. “Literally, nothing. Just a mishap from earlier today.”

Eddie raises a brow. “A mishap?”

Shit. “Yeah. I,” you swallow, then let out a deep exhale. “I was talking with Dante, earlier, and he, I guess,” you shrug your shoulders, “runs hot.”

Two sets of brows fly up their faces, just, unfortunately, as you suspected might happen.

“He burnt you?!” “Dante hurt you?!” they say, overlapping in their incredulity and thinly veiled rage, and Volt’s fingers tighten around yours, sparks popping along your skin.

“Yes, but he really did not mean it!” You reach for Eddie, find his arm flexed as he grips the bar tightly. “We were role-playing -”

“Role playing!” both of them nearly scream, and you see Rainey, at a table not too far away, turn her head.

You huff, steel your face, and grab Eddie tighter, find Volt’s white eyes with what you hope is a look of confidence, no nonsense. “Both of you, listen to me. He’s been doing this thing where he wants to teach me the ways of how to make new relationships, and he wanted to act out a… scene. A silly scene of, just, finding mutual interests.” Eddie barks out a dry, hollow laugh. “And he grabbed my hand, and I guess, that he doesn’t have the same control over that sort of thing that you two do.” You flick your gaze between them, but neither of their faces have softened. “That’s it.”

And maybe, that would have been it.

If, at that very moment, the door to the Breaker Box hadn’t opened, and a warm, luminous figure walked through it.

Shit.

The fire that you see in Volt and Eddie’s eyes, you know for certain, has nothing to do with the glow that Dante emits, and everything to do with his mere presence. This is not good, very very not good, and without thinking, you run around the bar to meet him before he can get much further inside.

“Dante,” you say, your breath a little hurried, and the smile you put on your face is shaky, because you know you actually have no time to fix this situation. “Hey, um, wh-what are you doing here?”

Dante smiles, making his cheeks and chest brighter. “Hey, ember. Look,” he puts his hand on his neck, tilts his head, “I just wanted to apologize, again, I know you said it didn’t hurt, but still. I know you come here at nights, though, so I figured I could buy you a drink.”

You giggle, forced, and nervously. “That’s… really sweet, Dante, but I don’t know if now is a good -”

You feel him before you hear him, from the buzz on your skin and the way the hair on your neck stands at attention. You knew you wouldn’t be quick enough, but hey, at least you tried. 

Volt’s hand finds your waist, and he presses you, hard, to his side, soldering you to him so there can be no misunderstanding, to anyone in the club. “Dante,” he says, and when you dare to look up at him, you see that hint of blue on his cheeks.

You were so fucked.

“It’s not often we see you at our little hole in the wall.” You can hear the anger being held back by what must be the thinnest wire imaginable. “Is there something we can help you with?”

Dante, you imagine, does not notice the fuse that is daring to blow at any moment, and smiles at Volt. “Yes! Well, I was wanting to buy this enigmatic ember here a drink, seeing as I accidentally got a little carried away earlier today.”

Volt smiles back - but it lacks any warmth, you know, and it doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s mocking, almost, and you fight not to shudder when you feel his fingers singe your skin. “Yes, our spark was actually just regailing us. An accident, we’re sure, but still. We’d hate for it to happen again, so perhaps let’s be a bit more mindful next time, yes?”

Dante’s eyes narrow just the smallest bit, but he nods. “Right. And I can’t apologize enough.”

“Yes, quite right. And I’m terribly sorry, but we’re actually going to have to close up early - something has very suddenly come up, you understand, I’m sure. Perhaps our wire can indulge you another time.”

Yeah, not very likely.

You try to cast Dante a reassuring look, unsaid apologies in your eyes. “Thank you, Dante, but yeah, another time?”

He nods again, a soft look on his face, and a truly apologetic look in his fire-red eyes. “No worries, ember. No worries, at all.”

You hear Eddie yell out at the bar behind you, “We’re closing early! Everybody get out!”

There was a reason that Volt was the face of the club, but Eddie’s bluntness did come in handy when they needed it to.

Dante raises a hand to wave goodbye and takes a step back towards the door. “Till next time!”

You try to wave back, but a shock runs up your side and through your arm, and you shove your hand back down, just as Volt says, “Dante. For future reference, our spark is perfectly content with the relationship they’re in, so further lessons may not be warranted.”

Dante’s brows (at least, what you think are his brows) raise, his eyes now wide as he casts a glance behind you at the bar, where you know Eddie is watching. “I - of course. It was just, two friends having a conversation.”

He, and the rest of the guests leave, mutters of confusion and discontent passing by you and Volt as they exit, his grip on you never loosening. When he finally lets go, it’s only to lock the door, but you can practically hear the buzz of electricity emanating off his body even as he steps away. The ends of his hair are sparking so rapidly, you think that if he was standing by a curtain, they’d go up in flames.

You know you at least have to try, so you take a deep breath. “Volt -”

A lightning flash. Volt’s hand clutches your jaw, his silver fingers pressing deep into your cheeks. It was so fast you couldn’t even gasp, and now you let out a small sound in the back of your throat, somewhere between pleading, and relief. His skin is hot, and you feel the charge of his skin send a current through your own. And his eyes…

They were going to burn you from the inside out.

“Our sweet, darling little spark.” His voice is taunting, it’s dripping with mock sweetness, it’s mean - and you hate how much you love it. “I think we’ve heard all we need to hear, yes?”

“V -” you can’t even finish his name before two of his thick, long fingers are forced inside your mouth, and you cry out as he pushes down on your tongue, holds your jaw still, and he chuckles at how wide your eyes are, filled with pleas you are simply unable to voice. Because of him.

Suddenly, there’s a hand on your neck, but it’s a different grip, one that’s humming with power, and the coils of wired hair brush your neck.

“There’s something you may not know about us, live wire,” Eddie says, his breath against your ear making your knees buckle, but no matter - you’re still pinned in place. “Volt and I…” his other hand encircles your waist, his forearm over your belly, and pushes you back to his chest, “we don’t like to share what’s ours.”

“And we especially,” Volt pulls your jaw towards him as he leans down to you, his eyes flashing like a storm, “do not like others making their mark where it isn’t wanted.”

You were so, incredibly fucked.

“So we think,” he says, as you feel Eddie bite down on your neck, “we’re going to have a reminder of our place, hm?” He makes a fake pout when your brows furrow, tsks his tongue at a plea that you’re prevented from voicing. “Oh, we know, little spark.”

Eddie’s teeth find your ear, his voice level, but you know too well the danger that lurks underneath it. “I thought that we should take you right on that stage, just to make the message clear.” When your knees buckle again, his arm pulls you back up, immobilizes you against him. “But neither of us thought anyone in the house deserved that sight.”

“Because you’re just for us, aren’t you?” He forces your jaw up, down, a pitiful little nod, and his voice is so warm, but it burns like a shot of whiskey in your throat. “And we’ll just have to ensure you aren’t likely to forget that.”

Volt’s fingers are gone, and you sputter and gasp, but then you’re being lifted, Eddie hoisting you up by your torso, and Volt bending to grab your legs, holding your ankles in his hands like they’re nothing. You’re suspended, held, between them, as they make their way towards the stairs. You try their names, you try pleas, you try apologies, as you are carried like a crate of whiskey up to their room.

“Volt, Eddie, I swear I -” now you’re airborne, for only the briefest flash, before your body hits the bed with a small bounce. As quickly as you can, you sit up, try to right yourself before them to plead your case, though you know the verdict has already been brought down. They are your judges, your jury, and you know, soon, your executioners. 

You crawl to the end of the bed where they stand, look up at them with eyes you know they’ll ignore. “You two have to know it meant nothing, literally nothing, Dante is a friend -”

“A friend who has marked your skin,” Volt says, in a voice that an untrained ear might classify as unbothered. He’s unbuttoning his shirt, slowly, carefully, but his white eyes are locked onto your face.

It’s Eddie who moves at you first, his hand back at your throat when he bends down over you, his thumb teasing at your pulse. His titanium eyes are dark, that same storm in them that you saw brewing in Volt’s, and he turns your gaze so that they’re the only things you can focus on.

“Ya know, live wire,” he says, pulling your neck up to him, his lips ghosting over your own, “sometimes, you are just like Volt.” He flicks his tongue across your lips, and you moan his name, anguished. “No matter how much I fuck him, it’s like he’s never satisfied.” He pulls back an inch, searches your face with arched lightning brows. “Is that what we’re looking at here? You’re just not satisfied with what we’re giving you?”

“No,” your voice is rough, like it’s fighting to leave your mouth, and you shake your head as much as Eddie’s grip allows for. “Never, never, Eddie. You two are the only ones I want, I swear.”

“Hm,” he muses, and you know from that sparkle in his eye that he’s enjoying this, your pleas, your begs, how willingly you give yourself to them. “Volt, baby, what do you think?”

You feel sparks at your hips, and you’re pulled back, out of Eddie’s grasp, pinned to the burning chest of one of your partners for the second time tonight. One of Volt’s hands deftly undoes your pants, the other slides under your shirt, and you feel the sparks of his hair kiss your shoulders, your neck. His voice, soft and smooth as silk, makes you gasp when he presses his lips to your ear. “Hm, I think, much as they say they’re ours,” his fingers send a zap to your nipple, and you curse through your teeth, “that we need to remind them.” He shocks you again, and you feel Eddie tug at the waistband of your pants. “Don’t you want that, darling? You want to be shown your place, don’t you?”

It was here, between them, always - you knew this. Lived it and breathed it and cherished it every time they touched you.

And amps sake, you never wanted to forget it.

So, feebly, tentatively, you nod, and you find Eddie’s eyes, waiting like a tiger for your answer.

“Show me, please.”

Like a doll, like you’re nothing, they turn you over, your clothes gone so fast you don’t realize you’re naked until you feel their skin on yours (you wonder, in the back of your mind, if they somehow burned them off). Volt pulls your arms, drags you up the bed, and Eddie takes your ankles, manipulating your limbs until you’re on all fours for them. Volt holds your chin again, not so harshly as before, but enough to hinder any movements you may wish to make, as he levels your face to where his cock is standing to attention, tinged the same shade of blue as his cheeks. 

You lick your lips at the sight, and when you feel Eddie swipe a finger over your folds, you groan, your arms already trembling. It’s not often you feel sparks from his fingers, but you’re certain they’re there now, buzzing and vibrating at your entrance.

He huffs out a chuckle, a sound like he’s found exactly what he was looking for. “You are fucking dripping, spark.” The tip of his finger teases its way inside, crooking it just a touch before he pulls it out with a hiss. “So fucking tight. It’s like you’re begging for us already.”

Volt’s eyes are so bright, staring down at your desperate face, and his grin shows a flash of his canines. “Oh, darling. You’re just a little slut for it, aren’t you?” When you moan his name in response, he presses harder on your jaw, and you relish the thought of the ache you’ll wake up to. “You want to be filled up, don’t you? Tell us. Tell us what you want.”

Your nails grip at the sheets beneath you, and when you speak, your words are stifled by Volt’s fingers. “Please, I need you - Eddie, Volt, fuck me. Please fuck me, pl-” 

Volt’s cock forces its way inside your mouth at the exact moment Eddie’s enters your cunt, and you’re sure you know now how it feels to be struck by lightning.

They make you burn, these men who will surely be the death of you one day, who make you feel like you’re going to burst at your seams, and you make a strangled sound of joy, pleasure, at the back of your throat where Volt hits you. Because it’s perfect, it’s home, it’s all you never even knew you wanted, this feeling of wholeness between these two men. This, this was certainly your place.

Eddie’s hands are white hot on your hips as he pounds into you, your back arching to deepen the angle, every thrust shoving you forward to take more of Volt’s cock. No matter how you moved, how you tried, futilely, to adjust yourself, it only led to one of them bullying their way deeper inside you, giving you no room to run. 

Volt holds your face in his hands, hardly having to rut his lips at all, relying on Eddie’s rhythm to move your mouth along his cock. “That’s it, our good little wire. Eddie’s right, you are just like me,” he strokes your cheeks, biting his lip when he feels your teeth, “so greedy for us, oh I know, I know. Two cocks inside you and it’s still not enough, is it?”

You try to make some sort of sound in your defense, but it comes out strangled, entirely fucked, and you feel a strand of drool fall at the corner of your lips. You make a sound of surprise, though, when you feel a zap at your clit, Eddie’s rough fingers giving you a teasing rub, and your arms ache.

“You want more, spark?” you hear Eddie say, his voice husky and warm and hitting you right in your heart. His fingers make small circles around your clit, and you worry you won’t have the strength to hold yourself up much longer. “You gonna cum for me I give you more, like a good whore?”

Yes, you wish you could say, wish you could nod and plead at his feet, yes, give me everything. 

But instead, you can only moan, can only drool around Volt’s cock with your slack jaw, watched by white eyes with rapt attention. You feel it, almost immediately, building inside you, no inch of your body left untouched, and the warmth and tension builds up inside you like a copper coil. And then Eddie hits a new angle and oh, fuck, it’s perfect -

White dots cloud your vision, and your arms give out, your orgasm causing your whole body to spasm and shake, and you see bolts of lightning when you close your eyes. Volt falls out of your mouth, and you scream their names, your cunt tightening around Eddie like a vice.

When you come back to your body a minute, you take a shaky breath and release your death grip on the sheets. When you blink your eyes open, you realize you’re empty, the loss striking, but you don’t remember either of them cumming, so you lift yourself back up, your arms still unstable, and  -

It’s steel eyes that greet you now, and you feel familiar, buzzing hands on your thighs. 

Eddie sits back on his legs, and his hand comes to cup your chin, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Hey, live wire,” he says, brushing his thumb over your swollen lip, “didn’t think you were done so soon, did you?”

Surely, one day, you would not survive them.

“Eddie,” you whisper, not trusting your voice any louder, “my arms, I can’t -”

“Oh, you don’t need your arms, baby.”

He pulls as Volt pushes, and you’re on your back, your head between Eddie’s thighs, one of his hands on your cheeks, the other giving slow, unbothered strokes to his cock. Volt’s hands run up, up your inner thighs, and you shiver as the current from his touch warms your entire body.

“Darling,” Volt says, coming to lean over you, his hair glowing softly, “Eddie and I want to see our marks on your skin. They’re the only ones that belong there, aren’t they?”

You’re entranced by his voice - Volt is a siren, a silvertongue, and you’d do anything if it meant you could hear more of it. So you nod, agreeing, of course agreeing, though to what, you’re not exactly sure.

Eddie continues to stroke your cheek, and he hums. “You trust us, spark?”

With your life.

“Yes, of course,” you respond, flitting your gaze back and forth between them.

“Good. It shouldn’t hurt, but -”

“But you know what to say if it does, right?” Volt finishes, and again, you nod, pulling the word “fuse” forward, just in case, and he grins, softer than before. “Perfect.”

Before you can ask or say anything more, Eddie is guiding his cock inside your mouth, and you close your eyes as he fills you, tasting yourself on his skin. Volt hikes up your thighs, and then, in one quick thrust, he’s inside you too, slick with your climax and still sensitive to the touch. They feel so perfect, so in sync, knowing exactly how to fuck your body to benefit you, and the other. Two halves, completing each other, but completing you between them.

You feel Eddie shift, feel Volt lean forward and balance his arms at your sides, and you open your eyes to see them kissing above you, their tongues swiping at each other’s mouths, and you moan around Eddie’s cock.

White and steel eyes look down at you, up to each other, and back down to you again, twin smiles on their lips. It’s Eddie that speaks. “You want some, baby?”

You nod, as best as you can around Eddie’s cock, and you reach up a hand to hold it while you open your mouth below them, offering your tongue. Two strings of spit fall down, down to your waiting mouth, and you arch your back when they hit, swallowing it down like whiskey.

Volt laughs in a way that goes straight to your clit, and he looks back up at Eddie, the two of them sharing one more kiss before separating, and Eddie’s cock is back in your mouth where it belongs, Volt rocking his hips inside you with a fervor. “So fucking good,” Volt groans as he pulls your hips up, “Doing so fucking good, little spark, just for us.” 

You already feel another orgasm building, winding itself in your belly, and both of them grow more erratic, more volatile in their movements. Eddie’s hand grips your bicep, and Volt finds your waist, and you are warm, so warm and charged and electric and full - 

You groan, cry around Eddie’s cock as you cum, but it’s different this time, it doesn’t stop, it only builds, and the white hot current of their skin is in every cell of your body, burning you from the inside out and blinding your vision with white - and you are floating, outside of your body, in a white, warm haze between their bodies. Somewhere, somehow, you feel them reach their own peaks, filling you at both ends and grasping at your body for purchase.

Two sets of lips on your cheek are what eventually pulls you back, soft, loving kisses that keep you floating even as you return to your body, and you hum in contentment, a smile forming unconsciously on your lips. 

“There they are,” you hear Volt say, feel his breath on your cheek.

“You back with us?” Eddie asks, and when you do finally open your eyes, it's his you see first. 

You nod, though it takes a great amount of effort, and you stretch your arms, feeling sorer than usual. You catch a look between them, that silent thing they tend to do, and you hum again to get their attention back to you.

“Live wire,” Eddie says, and you notice a glint in his eyes, and when you turn your head to see Volt, you see its twin. “Can we show you something?”

You raise your brows, and try to respond, but find you have to clear your throat first. “Do I have to get up?”

Volt makes an amused sound. “I’ll carry you.”

And so he does, easily, and you press your face into his neck, if only for the moment it takes for them to bring you to their bathroom. Eddie’s fingers run over your calf, and he whispers, “Look in the mirror, baby.”

You turn, blink your tired eyes open, and gasp when you meet your reflection.

On your hip, and on your bicep, are two red, unmistakable handprints.

“Eddie,” you breathe, stuck staring at them. “Volt. I - put me down, please.” When he does, you get as close as you can to the mirror, admiring the different sizes that Volt and Eddie’s hands have left on you. They nearly blend into your skin, but are distinct in how raised, how obvious they are. You tentatively touch one, and are surprised when it doesn’t hurt, only the faintest tenderness that doesn’t feel unlike the shocks from their fingers.

They’re perfect. They’re yours.

You feel a lump form in your throat, feel tears start to brim at the corners of your eyes, and you find their reflections in the mirror, both of them beaming with pride, devotion, love. You can only hope your own face shows the face.

“We think they’ll last a week or so,” Eddie offers, leaning against the vanity towards you. “We’re… not really sure how different your skin is to ours, but.”

You shake your head, not caring if they last one more minute, or one more year. “They’re perfect. They’re - Eddie,” you sigh, not even sure how to describe it, and you turn around to find Volt. “Volt. I - I love you so much, I’m…” you trail off, not able to stop a few tears as they fall, and they are on you in a flash, carrying you back to bed, tucking you between them under the sheets. 

They whisper their love for you in your ears as you drift off, your body pressed between them, Volt’s hand resting on Eddie’s handprint, and Eddie’s resting on Volt’s.

Correction, you weren't really one of his students so much as you were a stray duckling who'd wandered in on a campus-wide guest lecture one misaligned evening and stayed too long for the post-talk reception. You joke sometimes that it was fate; John thinks it has more to do with the throngs of International Relations students at the door that ensnared your intrigue than any divine intervention. What kind of deity would put a sweet thing like you in his undeserving hands?

It's a stain on his so-called clean start, one which he hasn't had the wherewithal to wash his hands of despite the many mental promises. Fraternizing had always seemed beneath him; Price knows better. He's a pragmatic. Academia befitted a man like him for that reason, only now the notion was beginning to sound like pure ego.

Donning oxford shirts and polos to lectures and wearing Tag Heuer timepieces instead of his favorite hat didn't do much for the reptilian part of Price that kept him alive on the battlefield. Price is animal-brained and has a penchant for getting his hands dirty. Pragmatism is survivalism is primitive.

To maintain some form of logic, Price has his rules, just so he can tell himself he's still reasonable. He needs the rules for stability, for his ego. No talking on campus, no pictures, minimal online communication, no coming to campus together even if you've spent the night, and several other no's that have kept you under the ethics committee's radar.

You may dislike the rules, but amidst this world of academia and polish, he aches to keep this sacred—you, and this feeling—the same one he used to have when looking down the barrel of a loaded gun.

Turns out, the war strategist in him—now thought good only for PowerPoint slides and case studies—also serves to keep alive the animal he believed he left behind on the field.

The beast you rouse, stripping him down to his baser self.

A twitch runs through his finger on the polished walnut surface, his attention still locked on the steady rise and fall of the duvet over your sleeping form. For Price, the better of the two worlds lies under his sheets at present, only a few feet from his desk.

Price sighs deliberately, sliding his glasses down his nose bridge and setting it aside with a clatter. A hazy ribbon of acrid smoke unspools from the end of his abandoned cigar as it rests in a notch of the ashtray while Price crosses to the bed, his highback desk chair left slightly crooked.

His half-hard cock stirs in the confines of his slacks as he thumbs the semi-sheer fabric of your worn pantyhose, left draped over the back of his accent chair with the rest of your clothes.

The knowledge that he'd been the one to take off your clothes doesn't sate him so much as knowing what lies beneath them leaves him on edge.

He peels away the duvet neatly to find your nightdress hiking up your thighs, greeted by the fragrance of your shampoo, the round undersides of your cheeks exposed, your slit just barely peeking out. The nightdress itself is a simple cotton voile affair; a gauzy babydoll with a lace wide-scoop neck and a ribbon bowtie hanging down the front as the only flourish. There's another one in his bottom drawer.

The hand-tufted mattress dips under his weight, holding its shape beneath him as he hoists one leg over your body. Almost absently, his hand starts seeking the throbbing bulge in his pants, palming himself as a hiss slips through his teeth. You stir—only enough to hitch your leg higher around the pillow clutched to your chest, nearly rolling onto your front.

A bead of precum gleams on the mushroom head of his girthy cock, the shaft flushed and corded with throbbing veins. The fabric of your nightdress rustles with John's movements above you, his knuckles grazing your thigh as he dry-fucks his fist with abandon. He runs his calloused fingers back-and-forth along your exposed folds and coats them in your essence before spitting in his palm for good measure and returning his hand to his cock.

Once his dick is wet from tip to base does he notch himself at your entrance—pretty and gaping slightly from the thorough fucking he gave you hours back. He stiffens as your hole sucks him in, bracing his palm next to your head, and silently holds his breath. Watches your lashes cast shadows across your cheeks and your breath whistle past your lips before he moves again.

His hand hovers—then clamps over your mouth as he sinks into you, fingers biting into your cheeks while you thrash beneath him. Your half-waking scream catches against his palm, his meaty hand dwarfing your entire face.

The startled spasms traveling through his cock from your cunt elicits a guttural groan from the older man, his voice strained. “Atta girl... atta girl...” Price coos as he feels the flailing gradually settle beneath him, grunting with each pass as he plows the last of it from your body with heavy, punctuated thrusts, your smaller feet kicking out between his.

Your eyes roll back as his other hand holds down the top of your head, his burly arms surrounding your head as he flattens you into the sheets. “Price-” you squeak out in surprise, your voice slightly garbled from the weight of his limbs on you. He doesn't bother making excuses for helping himself to your cunt while you were asleep, already reaching under your dress to knead your cheeks and spread your pussy wider for his cock while you gawk back at him in sleepy bewilderment.

You work your mouth soundlessly for something to say only for a gasp to catch in your throat. You clutch the pillow under your head and brace yourself as Price pulls out, leaving only the tip inside, a weeping, Oh my god, spilling from your lips when he bottoms out with a loud groan. Your legs tremble as the wide head of his cock hits your cervix, quivering like a teacup about to tip over.

You realize you’re content with how quickly it ignites between you—no words needed before you’re already caught up in something hot and heavy. His hips pummel into you with a wordless, single-minded intensity and the filthy chorus of his pelvis snapping against your ass cracking through the air, his humid breath huffing in your ear. Tears sting your eyes at the sheer fullness in your cunt, the rim of your pussy raw from the rapid friction, a milky string dribbling down your slit.

“Fuck, such a good girl,” he grumbles into your hair—speaking for the first time in minutes, his voice sounding scratchy from grunting in your ear like an animal in heat. “Good fucking girl.”

“Look at that—already filled you up once and you're dripping for it all over again. That's what I love about a sweet, ripe cunt.” His palm cracks against your ass hard enough to sting, his thumb sliding under the cleft of your cheek. His big hands sprawl across your asscheeks, pulling them apart slightly and making the stretch marks on your skin go taut, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek as he marvels. “You know I couldn't keep my hands off. This tight cunt was practically begging for it.”

The indignant (or rational) part of you wants to protest your innocence—you were asleep, blameless—but as you peer back at his dark, blurry silhouette with tears swimming in your vision, you can only babble your assent. “Y-yessir, yes, sir, please.” You blubber tearfully—pathetically—barely audible over the lewd squelches as he sinks into you. “More, please, sir.”

You can almost see the pity in his blue eyes—the color so stark it's all you can make out with the tears blotting your vision—the appreciative tilt of his brows for taking him so good even when you can't. It doesn't take much to convince you, does it? And why should it? You two fit like a puzzle, it was preordained—surely.

He tuts at your tears—endeared, you think—swiping away a teardrop on your cheek while he continues to roll his hips into you. An oxymoron, when every thrust just draws another whimper from you, exacerbating your tears. “Ssh, baby,” he hums, “Daddy's gonna fill you right up. You can go back to sleep right after.”

His palm bears down on the side of your head, drawing these staccato 'hah-hah-hah's from you as he pounds your cunt, your cheek smushed into the pillow. “Almost there, baby. I'm gonna give it to you.” He bundles the gauzy fabric of your dress in his fist and bunches it over your ass, the silly ribbon splayed out on the sheets.

He feels the quiver of your head under his palm, which he assumes is a nod—yes, please—his lips curling back into something that's either a grin or a snarl. Usually, you know Price is close—even before words are exchanged—when his rhythm turns staccato just before he's plowing you through the mattress. He pulls you further down the mattress, never mind you clawing at the sheets, and aligns his hips right over your ass before pushing back in. The feverish grind of his pubic bone against your backside borders on discomfort if only your cunt wasn't so eager to milk him, pulsing around him rhythmically as his sack slaps against your swollen cunt.

Toes curling and your calves flexing with a delicious burn, your legs are spread pretty and wide for him, his cock pumping into your hole with heavy-handed precision. Your cunt squelches as his hot seed overflows down your folds, painting a messy, sticky ring around his shaft. Price's wanton, guttural groans vibrate through your back, the man's body heat stifling as he holds himself above you, palms braced next to your head. “There we go...” Price grunts raspily, sawing his cock inside of you and continuing until you shudder around him and mewl into the pillow with your high, your tears blotting the pillowcase as he shoves your head down.

He lets you lie back on your side after he pulls out and smooths your babydoll back into place, supporting his weight in one arm as he strokes his twitching cock over you lazily, squeezing the last drop into his fist. Your cheek spills onto the pillow as you stay on your side—shaped like a cherub, he muses—gaping your mouth and letting him feed his sticky fingers between your lips. He rubs them on your tongue liberally, drool collecting in the corners of your mouth just as your jaw starts to protest.

“What do we say?” Price asks after freeing his fingers from your mouth with a pop.

“Thank you, sir,” you slur drowsily.

What a good student.

⸺ comment below if you enjoyed! ♡ let me know what u liked about it, if you did.

୨୧ ( 𝐚uthors/note. ) reupload bc i privated the first one out of insecurity and iʼm not sure if it'll show on ppls dashboards after that, sorry

© LACKADAISIES ‘25. | all rights reserved. copying, translation, or ai training not authorized; ask for direct permission before you take inspiration from my posts.

You peered down at him as if seeing him for the first time and wrinkled your nose with renewed embarrassment. “Hi, down there,” you murmured through a nervous laugh. The gauzy overhead lights swathed the room in a murky amber like swimming through honey, his stark blue eyes oddly anchoring through the fuzzy shadows.

“Hey there, pet.” The hem of your babydoll top tented over his head as he skimmed his lips across your navel, his wiry pepper-and-salt beard tickling your sensitive skin. A satisfied hum rumbled in his throat upon feeling the tremor of your skin under him—the way your breathing immediately fell out of rhythm.

The button of your denim shorts popped off with a soft clink and he dragged the shorts down with your panties without delay.

“Comfy?” Price asked, squeezing the ball of your heel in his big hand and rubbing the soles soothingly, then drifting his hand up to your calf as he held your knees open around his head. His warm breath fanned against your slick cunt unhurriedly, a shudder going through you as you wrought your fingers through his hair and dropped your head back.

“Oh, shush.” Between your legs wasn't the best place for conversation, you thought, your cheeks burning, though Price seemed perfectly in his element, mouthing against your inner thighs. It didn't seem right to affirm how good all of this, something so wrong, felt—you liked it far more than you should—but actions speak louder than words anyway.

He lowered his face to the top of your mound, kissing softly, a heavy breath rumbling through his chest as his big hands roamed along your hips and your belly with a certain reverence. You certainly weren't his to love and to hold, but the taste of you, so tangible and pooling on his tongue, felt like holding you in the palm of his hand, the heartbeat between your thighs a persistent flutter.

Before you, Price's relationship with his son may as well have been nonexistent. That was especially true after the fateful night when his son decided to rekindle their relationship to introduce his new girlfriend, and brought home… you. The same broad Price had shagged one year ago. A mindless one night stand between deployments. Price had popped your cherry before Tommy even got to third base.

It wasn't cheating at the time; you weren't dating anybody back then. Not officially, at least. You wanted to gain some experience before standing ten toes in with the guy you were seeing, learn what you were getting yourself into so you could do it right, on your own terms, when the time came.

Price could've, should've kept it that way—clean, in the past. You probably wouldn't have been able to stay with Tommy after knowing what his dad sounded like in bed, but you would've moved on eventually. But Price, when presented with the forbidden fruit right in his backyard, knew right then that he wasn't going to stay away. It wasn't in his nature. Tommy may have been the result of a mistake—another, one night stand—but you were no mistake. No one could convince him otherwise. He chose you and continued choosing you between every, 'We shouldn't be doing this,' and, 'We should stop meeting like this,' leading into bed.

His tongue dipped between your folds, just tasting, lapping up the slick that gathered there with your hips twitching against his mouth, his throat bobbing as he looked up at you and tilted his head.

“Is this cunt off limits, baby?” There it was. You hesitated, feeling quite dumb and exposed with your legs spread around his shoulders while he reminded you that you in fact weren't supposed to be doing this, and wanting to beg him not to stop now. Quite frankly, Price was having fun. Watching you get all wound up and off-balance with an amused crinkle around his eyes, though he presented a sympathetic croon at your plight. Price was unfair.

He bit a fair chunk of your thigh for a reaction. “Come on, baby, tell me. Should I stop touching you here?” You shuddered as the pad of his thumb circled your clit languidly, tugging on his hair on instinct, a traitorous trail of arousal running down the cleft of your ass.

“Stop it--”

“Stop touching-?”

“No!” A whiny, petulant noise unlike anything you've heard from yourself filled your ears, you may as well have been kicking your feet. “Stop bein' gross.”

That earned a truly hearty chuckle from Price—the old, distinguished kind, crow's feet deep. Pearly strands stuck to his fingers as he pulled his hand away from your seam, caressing your thighs as if calming a small, angry animal. “Gross? You're right, baby, we should stop. I mean, look at you—you're soaked. This is just filthy, darling. You don't want these dirty old hands touching you, do you? This is gross.”

“That's not what I-” You were getting all puffed up and red, he knew. Overwhelmed, even. It required too much brainpower to keep up with his games while your cunt was all achy, and his mouth was right there. “Please don't stop, Iʼm so, so wet, I don't wanna think about him right now-”

All in one, long-winded breath.

“Atta girl.” The vibrations of his voice rumbling through your sensitive bundle of nerves made you gasp out, his middle and ring finger plunging inside your cunt before you could ever catch your breath. The achy throb between your legs was tuned into a deep, perfect fullness that left no room for thought as his fingers curled inside you.

You never mentioned 'him' in these moments, refused to acknowledge his existence altogether. But that was too safe, too easy. Price didn't offer you the respite of ignoring reality, to languish in a safe little bubble where you forgot your obligations to your lover for a while. That might have went over with another man, but not one like Price, who thought the forbidden—Or perhaps just seeing you compromise your morals for the pleasure he gave you—was half the fun.

Spit and arousal alike dripped down your cunt while he slurped and lapped at your center, thick, deft fingers squelching inside you. His lips closed around your hood, sucking gently as he let out a muffled groan that pulsed through you. "Christ,” Price hissed against you, drawing your hips closer as you mashed your cunt against his mouth. “There's my girl. Don't fucking come until Iʼm inside you. Wanna feel you come all over me.”

The sound of his zipper unfurling made your eyes fly open, met with the blurry sight of a water-damaged ceiling through tears you didn't realize had sprung in your ears. His moans down below had grown more feverish by the minute, and you realized he was fucking his fist. You propped yourself on your elbows as you guided Price's head down on you and let your gaze fall over him, the fabric of his trousers stretched across his thighs as he kneeled on the carpet with his hard cock in his free hand.

“Price-” You preened his name brokenly, only to earn a muffled grunt from him against your clit, his tongue flattening against your folds with each lap. The muscles in his forearm jumped and tightened, veins standing out as he crooked his fingers and worked that spot in sharp, merciless curls. Too close—your thighs cinched around his ears, your fingers curling in his hair like you meant to drag him off, but you only pulled him closer.

Price slid his fingers from your cunt with a wet spray and a whimper fell from your lips, your hips jerking against the air uselessly.

You scrambled up the sheets as he climbed onto the bed, one knee on the mattress, then another. “You close, sweetheart?” Price cooed while settling between your legs, knees pressed wide to accommodate the breadth of his waist, your thighs tender from being scratched by his beard. His big hands haphazardly reached for the fabric of your top and ripped it over your head.

“I-Iʼm close-” You nodded your head, fisting up the sheets restlessly. His heavy cock rested against your seam, dragging back-and-forth through the mess while your walls clamped around nothing. “Please, need it-”

“Fuck—” Your breath mingled together as he pushed inside your heat with a guttural sound, your sloppy cunt practically drawing Price all the way in. “—That's it,” he grunted, “Gonna come for your daddy, luvie?”

You were already close—so close—every nerve pulled taut from what he'd just done to you, but it felt humiliating to finish as soon as he was inside, like some inverse of a teenage boy. Yet, your messy head of hair nodded wildly in the crook of his shoulder, wobbly legs criss-crossed behind his back.

The air knocked out of you as Price bottomed out fully, breathless cries spilling from your lips as your walls spasmed around his girth. His hips pummeled into you impatiently until your release slicked the way for his desperate strokes, a lewd, heavy slap of skin connecting with his beefy body bearing down on you, mattress springs groaning. A weak, trembling hand pressed against his stomach, trying to push him back, but his hand closed around yours, pinning it to the mattress as he drove into you through the oversensitivity, a guttural groan rumbling from deep in his chest.

“Ssh, I know, darling, I know,” he murmured, voice ragged, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “It's my turn now. You can take it.”

— writing cheap sleazy porn intended to be sold at half-price bookstores as usual. just a quick oneshot to give my brain a break from my longer wips! you guys should be grateful i took a break from bingeing TWD to post something. + sorry if there's any inconsistencies in the tenses, iʼm a little rusty with using past tense ever since i started writing fics.

Bunching his brows in confusion, Ryland quickly shut the door. He considered yelling your name but he decided against it. You were obviously here, there was nowhere else for you to be, so you must’ve been the one making the noises, but he just didn’t know what you were doing that could make such a noise. Washing the dishes maybe? Cleaning something? He couldn’t help but think that the noise sounded familiar, and in the couple of seconds it took to toe off his shoes, he had a hunch.

Shrugging his cardigan off his shoulders, Ryland hurried to the living room where the sounds seemed to be the loudest. His cardigan fell to the floor and his jaw dropped alongside it when he turned the corner.

You were home alright, alongside the two other members of your family- your mates, as they insisted you and Ryland call them. Rocky and Adrian had decided to stop by while Ryland was gone. And, apparently, they couldn’t keep their claws to themselves.

Adrian sat on the floor- a looming presence in the room considering their sheer size. Ryland often thought it was a miracle they’re even able to squeeze through the front door. Adrian was using three of their arms to tilt themselves back enough to expose the ventral seam on the underside of their carapace, which was gaping wide, oozing silver and had a long, meaty appendage snaking out that ran up and disappeared in your ass. 

Adrian’s ovipositor was a deep, navy blue and almost three feet long when fully unfurled. Obviously, only a fraction of that was used during sex with you and Ryland, but the girth of it wasn’t any less intimidating. Ryland still struggled taking it when he and Adrian partnered up.

The first time seeing the sex organs Eridians carried was terrifying and a little off putting. Rocky had been a nice, gentle introduction to the appendage on the Hail Mary- only sporting just over a foot of length and on the skinnier side. It was something you and Ryland could handle after minimal preparation and found to greatly enjoy it with time. Once on Erid and seeing what your new gigantic mate had? It took a while to get used to. 

You were next. Held in Adrian’s two remaining arms, the large turquoise Eridian held you against their carapace, your back pressed to the hard rock while their claws clasped under your knees to pull them back and spread your legs wide. A position one might find themselves in while giving birth. Except you most certainly weren’t giving birth. You weren’t even touching the floor, body suspended a foot away from the tile thanks to the strength of the Eridian behind you.

Rocky completed the Eridian sandwich at your front. Two of his legs held him upright, lifting his carapace just high enough to be level with your pussy. Rocky’s ventral seam, which was also open and exposing his fleshy interior, pressed nearly flush with your sex. Ryland could only see about an inch or so of space between the two of you, and could only see a tiny portion of Rocky’s meaty pink ovipositor, but he could guess where the rest of it was hidden.

The two Eridians were harmonizing together in such a way Ryland couldn’t understand what they were saying, but they were undoubtedly speaking praises to you.

You looked absolutely exhausted.

Pinned between the two, it was obvious the three of you had been at it for a while. The silvery fluids splattered between your legs and your overwhelmed, pinched brow was also a big tell. As the two tentacle-like organs with minds of their own battered your holes, the rest of your body wasn’t left alone either. 

The blue claws that kept your legs spread were gently kneading the flesh there, a constant pulse of pressure to your thighs courtesy of Adrian. Human’s squishy, fleshy bodies still enamored your mates; they found any chance they could to hold, knead and press against yours and Ryland’s softer bits.

Rocky was also kneading your skin with a claw, focusing on your stomach this time to feel the softness and the slightly raised protuberance where his ovipositor curled inside your cunt. His second free claw was pressed to your tongue, coaxing drool from your lips to wet the rock while his third claw rubbed rough circles over your clit. Your mates knew you derived most of your pleasure from stimulation there, so they made it a point to make sure the bundle of nerves wasn’t ignored.

Ryland popped a boner almost immediately.

In the almost year of being mates, this was the first time he’d walked in on such a scene. It wasn’t the first time he’d sat out while you had your fun with Rocky and Adrian, that had happened plenty of times, but Ryland was always there to watch. Something must’ve happened to get the three of you so amped up that you couldn’t wait until he returned home. 

Rocky and Adrian seemed… much more passionate than they usually were too. They usually tried to be very cautious with their fragile mates but that didn’t seem to be the case today.

Ryland took only one step towards the trio before Rocky’s familiar trills demanded something from him.

“No. Grace stay away until mates have finished.”

God, he couldn’t even get closer to watch??

Ryland was stuck on the sidelines, watching the obscene fucking happening in his living room and not able to do a single thing about it. He wanted to come to your side and kiss you stupid- he wanted to take your chest in his hands and give your peaked nipples some attention. Your eyes had been screwed shut ever since he walked in, a stream of garbled moans escaping you at the undoubtedly overwhelming rush of pleasure you were receiving from every angle. He wanted to be a part of it too but apparently he wasn’t allowed. Ryland just resorted to palming himself through his pants.

A couple of minutes passed before a visible shudder ran through you and your head flung back to knock against Adrian’s carapace. That couldn’t have felt very good but you made no indication you’d even felt the pain. Your legs seized around Rocky’s body, toes curling as the two Eridians prolonged your orgasm with their prehensile organs and rubbing claws until you finally began to slump, muscles relaxing. 

You and the scientist learned the hard way that Eridian’s stamina was much more impressive than a human's. It took several orgasms (or the Eridian version of an orgasm, anyway) for them to even begin to feel tired. The true peak to an Eridian’s pleasure was during a mating season of sorts as a mated pair (or group) prepared to lay their eggs together. Their sex organs became extremely sensitive to stimulation. It was a sacred time for Eridians and one that only came around every couple of years. 

Ryland suspected that time was approaching. He noticed a couple of days back that Rocky and Adrian became much more… clingy than usual; overly physically affectionate and touchy. Rocky would rub against your legs like a cat, winding an arm around your thigh to stroke the flesh and make you trip over your feet. Adrian wanted to have the two of you in their arms as much as possible. For the past three days, both Ryland and yourself woke up in the cradle of their arms instead of the comfort of your bed as they watched you sleep.

Walking in on a scene like this just solidified to Ryland what he theorized.

For the first time since Ryland joined the stuffy room, the thrusting slowed to a stop. The ovipositors stuffed inside you stopped their visible pulsing. Your chest was heaving in the air, breath ragged as you fell limp. The metallic fluid that dripped out of your core when Rocky slowly retracted his appendage (with some difficulty, as the organs had a nasty habit of trying to stay seated) fell in rivulets down your slit, splattering on the living room floor and painting it silver. 

You whimpered when the almost foot long of soft, pliable flesh slipped free of your heat, leaving you empty and raw. Adrian made no move to retract theirs from you, but they did ease up their hold on your knees, cradling you against them a bit more comfortably to give your tired legs a break from being in such an uncomfortable, exposed position.

“Couldn’t have waited for me, huh?” Ryland grumbled, tugging his t-shirt off his body.

Both Rocky and Adrian chirped a firm, “No.”

Ryland looked at you with concern. You were slumped against the turquoise rock, eyes still closed and breath beginning to even out. Just how long had you three been at it? Judging by the state of your pussy; swollen and red underneath the smattering of silver and milky white release, he could only guess.

Rocky skittered up to Ryland’s side and tugged on the leg of his pants.

“Ready for Grace to join now.”

With Rocky’s unneeded help, Ryland was bare in no time and finally took the brief opportunity to kneel next to you, brushing the damp hair from your forehead. Your eyes peeled open and you gazed up at him 

“H-Hey baby.” It was the first time you acknowledged that Ryland was even in the room.

“Hi, sweetheart. You look tired. How many times have they-”

“Mate achieve sexual climax seven times,” Adrian hummed, arms lifting you a little like they were proud, claws gently stroking your calves. 

Ryland choked on his saliva. “Seven?”

Rocky pressed close and lifted his carapace higher, like he was proud too. “Yes.”

“Guys, humans need breaks-”

“Mate never said word,” Adrian chirped. All of you had a safeword just in case your couplings became a little too overwhelming and someone needed to take a breather. Apparently, you hadn’t deemed it necessary to say it. Or maybe you were so fucked silly, you couldn’t remember what it was.

‘Did give breaks’ is what Rocky chipped in. You lifted your hand and pinched two of your fingers together with a millimeter of space between them. Little breaks, is what that communicated to him. Probably barely a minute a piece.

“Ok, well I think we should wait before-”

“No. Must do now. Statement.” Rocky began trying to herd Ryland between your relaxed legs, which was commonly where he wound up when all four of you were having sex. Ryland brushed him off.

“Why?”

Rocky seemed hesitant to answer, and Adrian chose to stay quiet. “...just must.”

“Is it that time of year that you told us about? The egg season, or whatever you call it?”

The shoves from the brown and light green Eridian became firmer and Ryland had no choice but to move where he was pushed. Rocky was incredibly strong. The blond knelt between your legs, Adrian lowering you close enough to the ground so you were almost sitting. The looming turquoise being kept you slightly elevated, given the girthy protuberance still buried up your ass. It wouldn’t be very comfortable for either of you if you sat on it.

“Yes,” Adrian finally answered. “Clutches almost ready. Want mates ready to receive them.”

“Woah, woah! Time out!” Ryland made a T with his hands. Adrian’s carapace tilted at the gesture. Rocky made an annoyed noise. “We still need to have a discussion about that! We haven’t agreed to house any eggs.” You didn’t look like you were listening to a word he said, instead looking like you were about to fall asleep. “Besides, your clutches don’t need a host to thrive, they’re just fine staying in a regular nest. You guys want to include us in the process which is sweet and all but… can’t we just babysit them or something?”

“Could. But clutch much safer and warmer in mate.” Adrian seemed pretty set on this idea. Ryland wanted to argue that human bodies were not warm compared to an Eridian, but someone was getting impatient.

Claws shoved against his back, knocking him forward to nearly topple onto you. He stopped himself with his hands just in time, planting them on Adrian’s carapace. Their body thrummed at the contact. You blinked up at him with a smile.

“Do you need to switch positions, sweetheart?” Ryland whispered. “Or need a pillow or something for your back?” Adrian wasn’t very comfortable to lay on without some sort of padding, especially when naked.

You shook your head. “I’m ok. I’m more comfortable laying like this anyway. It hurts to squish my face into Adrian if I turn onto my stomach. I can last a little longer.”

If you say so. Ryland took great care when he guided his tip to your drooling cunt, being as gentle as possible as he slid inside. Your throat bobbed but you didn’t protest, only sighing through your nose with a grunt. Compared to Rocky, Ryland’s dick didn’t hold a candle. He wasn’t small by any means, but he also wasn’t a foot long and have a cock that could twist and curl against your walls. You weren’t complaining though.

Speaking of Rocky, he didn’t waste any more time to press Ryland’s torso closer to yours in order to bare the scientist's ass to the room.

One thing Ryland still couldn’t get used to, even after a year and then some of having this weird, gross alien sex, was the heat. Eridian’s ovipositors are hot, and every inch that snakes into you is an inch of fiery warmth that could become borderline uncomfortable at times. 

Ryland’s forehead hit your sternum as he felt the molten heat beginning to creep through his intestines. Usually, Rocky would take more time to get Ryland prepped but given how wet Rocky already was thanks to you, he slid in easily.

Once Rocky was fully seated and Ryland could feel the bumpy underside of his friend scrape against his ass, the Eridians didn’t hesitate to start rutting, tearing moans out of your throats. Ryland didn’t have to thrust into you at all, Rocky’s pistoning doing all of the work for him by moving his hips to and from your pelvis.

Your hands, which had been gripping the turquoise arms that kept you elevated, moved to tug Ryland’s face down into a sloppy kiss. There was no gentleness to it, just a desperate clashing of teeth and tongue. You swallowed Ryland’s yelp of surprise when he felt a claw clamp around his balls. Rocky’s small hand rolled the heaviness between his rough fingers, fondling the sack and coaxing the first odd spurts of cum from his tip. Your gummy walls squeezed around his shaft and Ryland could feel the rhythmic drag of Adrian’s ovipositor against your walls from the inside. 

It was hard to feel where Eridian began and human ended.

Your feet hooked around Ryland’s waist to squeeze him closer, a strangled sob escaping you when the coarse pubic hair at his base scraped against your raw clit. Ryland kissed your tears away.

Ryland came first. With your heat hugging him so tightly and Rocky’s ovipositor twisting and writhing deep in his gut, bumping erratically against his prostate, he had no chance of lasting more than a couple of minutes (the Eridians always complained that humans cum too fast). While he filled you, Adrian came next. You felt them pulse, quake and another fresh load of hot, silvery fluid filled your ass. Your vision turned white soon after and your depleted body found a weak, pathetic finish.

You presumed Rocky eventually finished after a couple of pumps because you felt Ryland’s navel get warmer against yours and he groaned against your jaw. The four of you sat, soaking each other in and coming down from your combined highs. Ryland was the one that moved first.

“Alright, (Y/n) is tapping out. I’m tapping out for them.”

“What mean tapping out, question?” Rocky asked, bracing his claws on Ryland’s hips to pull his vent away. His ovipositor tried everything in its power to stay buried but with some tugging and a wet shlop, the organ fell free and plapped to the floor. A rush of silver followed. 

Ryland gently eased his cock from you. “They’re done for the day. They need rest.”

There were some low grumbly notes of protest.

The blond sat back on his heels to help you stand but Adrian beat him to it. The big Eridian softly pulled the navy ovipositor from you and the rush of shimmery cum that followed was immense and sticky. Cradling you in their arms, Adrian stood and brought you to the corner of the room where a giant makeshift nest lay. When the Eridians wanted to stay in the beach house instead of leaving the biodome, that’s where they bunked. They said the eggs they lay will go there too. Apparently, Adrian wanted you in there for the time being.

“Such good mate, get rest now. Ready for eggs very soon,” the alien cooed. You didn’t have the energy to argue. 

Nestling you into the pile of Eridian and Earth fabric replicas, Adrian tucked you in all nice and cozy with a deep, resonating hum of song before turning to scuttle back to the two sitting in the middle of the room. 

Ryland watched your eyes seal shut in exhaustion and gulped when Adrian scooped him off of the floor. 

It was his turn now.

alright everyoneeee get up and get dressed, it’s time to go to church! I really made up some total bullshit about eridian mating culture and biology for this. inspo for the anatomy came from this tumblr post and this reddit post! team huge adrian forever btw, this is an art piece for reference on how big I picture them! as always, thank you for reading :)

you lay down the bag of chips, apple, and your water bottle on the table beside everything else. the computer hums to life, brightening your face in the dim lit room.

to be completely honest, you're not actually supposed to be here right now. you brought the librarian a bundle of your homemade muffins at the beginning of the semester and she lets you study here after hours. you'll bake her a whole damn store if she keeps on helping you like this.

it's peaceful, quiet, and nobody's here to distract you.

just as that thought ponders in your head for a moment, the heavy double doors to the library slam shut behind you. you immediately tense up. if you get found here, you'll be sent home.

you duck your head down and peek behind the chair. it's still quiet, but someone is here. your eyes dart around the shadowy room for any movement. nothing.

you take a long, deep breath. whoever it was doesn't seem to care. theyll probably get what they need and leave before you know it. that thought calms you, but you still lost your train of thought with the material. damnit.

you open your notetaking app on your laptop and take a deep breath as you put in your headphones. music always helps you study better and keeps you relaxed.

it's not even 15 seconds into the song when you notice movement in your peripheral vision. you snap your head to the side and see the only person who could possibly ruin your day. armin arlert.

he says something, but you can't hear through your headphones. you groan and pull the wire down, popping the earbud out.

"what?" you ask annoyedly.

he smiles sweetly, as if you know the very lips he smiles with aren't laced with poison, "do you need a study buddy? i could help you if you're struggling."

"i'm not struggling," you narrow your eyes, "in fact, i'm going to get a better grade than you tomorrow."

he shifts his posture, "oh really?"

it's as if his entire demeanor changes. hie eyes aren't as wide and sweet as they were two seconds ago, his lips morph into a sinister smirk, and he isn't standing so hunched down anymore. he's looking down at you. he's looking down on you.

you swallow nervously, suddenly feeling very small. his eyes aren't the blue tropical tide, but now the deep merciless ocean. it takes you a moment under his gaze that you finally snap out of it.

"what do you want?" you say plainly.

he points to one of the tables in front of you, "that's where i'm studying."

"for the test tomorrow," he adds, turning away from you.

your eyes follow where he points and it is the table right in front of you, not even six feet away. you sigh. this guy.

you scoff, "you're not even supposed to be here."

he shakes a plastic bag of cookies, "mrs. tally really loves homemade goods doesn't she?"

your jaw tightens. is it even worth staying? you'd probably get more done at home. you begin to pack up your things into your backpack.

"leaving so soon?" he says without even looking in your direction, "i didn't think you were that easy."

you stop dead in your tracks. what did he just say to you? you sit your happy ass back down and unpack all of your things. armin doesn't say anything, but his shoulders shake slightly like he's trying to stifle a laugh.

in that moment, you decide you're going to stay until he leaves, even if you're here all damn night.

"[name]," a voice calls out, "you alive?"

you peek up and see armin standing over you, an eyebrow raised. you take a moment to fully adjust to your surroundings, you're groggy and a bit loopy. through the window, the sun is lowering over the horizon. you must have fallen asleep. that's so embarassing.

"i'm fine," you reply sharply.

he doesn't reply, he just goes back to his own table. you sigh and look back down at your notes. you're sleepier than you thought and armin doesn't seem tired at all. this is going to be a long night.

there's rustling coming from his direction, you glance over with a raised eyebrow. he's packing up. your heart practically leaps in your chest at the thought of him walking out, glancing over at you, and knowing that you're staying longer than he is. then you'll just have to wait about 15 minutes and you can leave too. you can't wait to cuddle up in bed and sleep.

you straighten your back, push your reading glasses further into your nose, and grip the highlighter in your hand with a fierce passion. you mentally prepare for seeing his reaction out of your peripheral vision.

but he doesn't walk by you. instead, he stops in front of your table and drops his things in the empty space.

what is he doing...

armin unpacks his things from his backpack, laying out his notebook, computer, and flash cards. he practically shoves the delicate handwriting and perfectly drawn diagrams in your face. your expression falls in a dark scowl.

"we might as well study together," his sweet persona arises once again. he switches on you every five seconds it seems.

you let a silent moment pass, "i suppose."

he just smiles. you try to ignore the way your heart skips a beat as he does. then it's quiet again. just the soft incoherent study mumbles, clacking of keys on the laptop, and scrapes of ink against paper.

you start to get lost in it, like you do every session. nobody else gets it, the way you slip into a trance. the words on the page morphing into thoughts and knowledge. it's almost the peacefulness of a dream, thought without thinking, it just comes naturally.

"[name]," armin calls. you peer up from your zone out session.

you have to do a double take at his expression. his eyebrows are pressed together in an uncomfortable meeting. you know that look from a mile away, confusion.

you tilt your head, "what?"

he looks as if the words about to come out of his mouth are painful, "what did mr. ackerman say about the after affects of the great titan war?"

you raise an eyebrow. armin arlert, the perfect student, the star pupil, is asking little ol' you about something as simple as the great titan war. you can't even count how many times mr. ackerman talked about its affects. there is no way he doesn't have it in his notes.

"you don't have it?" you ask.

he sighs, "don't put any more salt to my wound, [name], please."

when he utters that last word, he glances up at you through his overgrown bangs that fall across his face like a sandy wave. you bite your lip.

"come here," you pull out your notebook for history class, "i have it."

with an agonizing screech, armin slides his chair over to you. he peeks over your shoulder at the notebook, eyes scanning over your notes. it's not the first time you've lent your notes to a friend or two, but that's different. they don't care to read the little notes in the margins, look at the doodles scattering the pages, or notice how much you fold the edges of the paper while you write. but you know armin will and he does.

he runs the edges of his fingers against them as if they're a painting you just can't help but touch. you peek over at him, but all you're met with is a new perspective. you haven't seen him this close before. his eyelashes curl upward so beautifully, his hair is golden like dawn, his eyes are so, so blue. you just stare because what else is there to do when witnessing something so unique.

then, he looks at you too. before it can seem like you've been looking a long time, you just look back at the notebook. you underline what he was looking for with the tip of your nail.

"here," you mumble, "this is it, right?"

armin doesn't look away, you can feel his eyes on you, "yeah," he says plainly.

"okay, cool."

you return to your own studies, expecting him to take the notebook back to his area to copy it to his computer. he doesn't. instead, he just pulls his computer over and starts typing away right next to you.

you try to convince yourself it's nothing, he doesn't want to take your notebook or he doesn't want to move his chair back over. but none of them ease your mind.

then, you just resort to your studies. you fully jump right into it. you need to anyway, this is still a competition of course.

you lose your mind a bit while studying, as you do. as if you're watching a movie, the events of the great titan war begin to unfold before your eyes.

it's dark and eerie, and for a moment you feel like you're in the war yourself. large tanks crunch against the ground as you walk by. soldiers yell out orders, mentioning something about a titans nape, like mr. ackerman talked about. their words became increasingly more rushed and scared, you don't know why.

just as you're about to step forward, a gigantic foot makes contact with the space you were just about to occupy. you try to scream, but it comes out muffled like you're under water. you look up and the titan is looking down at you. mr. ackerman said that the titans ate people and a fear rises in you like a great wave. the mere thought of people living like this thousands of years ago brings a shiver down your spine.

right before the titan is able to grasp you, everything's gone. your eyes open and you suck in a deep breath. you fell asleep again, what a dream.

this time is different than before, you're more comfortable somehow. your view is also slightly slanted to the side. you lift your head and face where you once were, armins shoulder. no way.

you can't bring yourself to rise your gaze to his face. you just know he's looking at you.

"good morning, sleepyhead," he laughs.

you rush out your words, "imsosorry."

"it's okay."

the way he says it isn't dismissive or awkward, just comforting, like you didn't do anything wrong at all. you finally look up.

he is looking at you, but it's not the way you thought he would. you saw an evil glare, a hateful laugh, but he's not like that. the opposite actually. your heart skips a beat and you swallow hard.

"how about we both go home," he suggests, "we need sleep for the test tomorrow if we're both going to get a perfect score."

and suddenly it's as if a great weight has been taken from your shoulders. that extreme pressure of having to be better always simply vanishes. you'd always assumed he thought he was better than you, a spoiled jerk who wanted to put everyone down. instead, he just wanted an equal.

you just nod, "okay."

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