#Dusk: Please shut up.

[solardee]

So what does Dawn feel about the final matchup being between babies?

(Or does he not care because he's no longer involved? ;))

I imagine that Dawn is unaware of the rest of the competition at this point, but either way he wouldn't be too bothered.

He'd be much more invested in a fight than a popularity contest. No one's fighting right now, and even if they were, he can't get involved in it so not his problem.

Were he aware of the contest/watching the rest of it from the outside, he'd be a bit releived that it's baby vs baby, since that would mean him losing didn't sentence a kid to get their ass kicked by a version of him with fewer morals.

He might throw a fit if he got to see who the other contestants were though. He'd have a ball going toe to toe with Shattered or Swad LOL

[black-and-yellow]

Trip, man.

[cxrrodedcoffin]

Route To Sin - Eddie Munson

Likes are always appreciated but reblogs and feedback keep artists going!

Summary: eddie decides to go on a roadtrip with you to visit your sister in vegas, when you stop at a themed motel on the way, things quickly take a filthy turn.

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: my first eddie munson fic!! i’ve loved this man for two years, i just finally decided to put it on paper lol, please let me know what y’all think!!

TW: dom!eddie, slight brat tamer!eddie, reader has a sister, drug use (weed), food mention, marriage talk, dacryphilia, breeding kink, daddy kink, bathtub sex, oral fixation, unprotected sex (don’t do this), creampie, cowgirl, mirror sex, degradation (brat, whore), porn mention, spanking mention, pet names (doll, babydoll, sweet girl, sweetheart, angel), hair pulling, fem + afab reader, reader gets slightly insecure at the end

Rating: R, 18+

——

A waft of earthy smoke billowed from the open driver’s side window, the familiar smell pulling Eddie’s attention back to the van. You knelt on the bench seat, body stretched across the expanse of the front cab to rest your folded arms against the edge of the window frame, silently watching your boyfriend pump gas. The last of the joint you’d been passing back and forth dangled limply between your pointer and middle finger, careful to avoid dropping the simmering butt and accidentally lighting the whole place up.

“If you keep blowin’ that roach shit my way I’m gonna leave you here.” That signature sarcasm rang heavy in his tone, canines peeking out from under his top lip with the smile he flashed at you.

He shut the fuel door, grabbing the roach out of your hand before snubbing it out against the heel of his boot and tossing it into the ashtray on top of the nearest trash can.

“I gotta go in to pay, do you want anything?” He fumbled with his wallet, pulling the wad of crumpled bills out of the worn leather.

“Get me a slice?” You asked, tilting your head toward the neon in the window that read ‘Pizza: Hot To Go’ in blinking red letters. He nodded, hitting a light jog into the convenience store, wallet chain slapping against his thigh with every step.

When you suggested a roadtrip to visit your sister in Nevada, you hadn’t fully taken into account how long you’d need to be in the van. Hawkins to Vegas wasn’t exactly a short trip, two thousand miles to be exact, and as much as you loved spending time with Eddie, the old, worn out seat of his van was starting to make your tailbone ache. Being 16 hours into a 28 hour drive had you feeling more stressed out than usual, you definitely needed to sleep in a real bed tonight if you hoped to get any relief before your big weekend in Sin City.

Eddie came bounding across the cracked pavement, pizza box in hand and you perked up, his goofy smile illuminated by the final sliver of dusk and the dingy glow of the old gas station sign above.

“I got a whole pie, Rick wasn’t fuckin around when he said that new stuff would make you feel like you’re starving.” He yanked open the door, the metal creaking loudly on its rusty hinge. You took the box from him, setting it on the bench between you as he hoisted himself into the driver’s seat, starting up the van to continue your journey.

“Eddie, can we stop at a motel tonight?” You asked, opening the box to lift a piece of pizza out, folding it down the center and bringing it to his face.

“M’not sure if there’s anything on the way, but we can stop if we see something, doll.” He turned his head, keeping his eyes on the road through his peripheral as he took a bite from the slice in your hand.

‘Welcome Home (Sanitarium)’ by Metallica blared through the speakers either side of the van’s tape deck, vibrations from the heavy bass flowing through the vehicle and melding with the warm haze your high pulled over your mind, your body relaxing into the stained upholstery of the seat. You kicked your bare legs up onto the dashboard, white lacquered toenails pulling Eddie’s eyes off the road briefly. His gaze shifted down to your ankle, then your calf, then landing on your plush thigh, your soft skin peeking out from under your short pajama shorts.

“Eddie, there!” You pointed toward the sign glowing overhead through the dirty windshield, reading ‘Heart’s Desire Motel’ in faded letters atop a large metal heart. His attention was quickly pulled away from your soft skin, pulling the van off the highway and into the small parking lot. The place was quaint, baby pink paint peeling from the siding, with an old ‘vacancy’ sign blinking in the window of the front office. You pulled your sandals on and jumped out of the van, slipping Eddie’s jacket over your shoulders to shield your bare arms from the chill in the night air. Eddie followed quickly behind, catching up to you with ease as you reached the front door.

A small bell rang when you pulled open the office door, the only source of light in the small room being a desk lamp situated behind the front counter. You waited for a moment, hearing a ‘be right with you!’ called from an adjoining space.

“How can I help ya darlin?” A sweet older woman emerged from a back storage space, setting some paperwork down and taking her place behind the counter.

“Can we get a room for the night?” You asked cheerily, excited to finally lay down on something that wasn’t a blanket in the back of Eddie’s van. She smiled and nodded, flipping through the room log book, and you took the opportunity to glance at your surroundings. The walls were the same light pink as the exterior, with heart and cupid motifs scattered across them to really hone in on the theming. The kitchy aesthetic was endearing, a reminder of the bygone honeymoon resorts of the 60’s.

“All our double twin rooms are booked for the night so we only have single queen rooms available, is that alright?” She looked between you and Eddie, knowing her question may as well have been rhetorical.

“That’s actually preferred, it’s our wedding night.” Eddie lied to the woman, a shiteating grin stretched across his face when you turned back to him and shoved his shoulder.

“Well in that case I’ll put you up in our honeymoon suite! It’s not much different from our standard rooms, but there’s a heart shaped tub for you two lovebirds to enjoy.” Her face lit up with the sweetest smile and your heart melted, guilt sitting low in your chest knowing it was a lie. You didn’t have the heart to tell her or question why she’d believed it given the way the two of you were dressed, but you shrugged it off, just happy to be able to finally relax.

You took the key from her as Eddie handed her the cash to pay for the room, twirling it between your fingers, a red keychain etched with the same logo as the overhead sign on one side and the room number above a small heart on the other. Eddie shoved his wallet back into his pocket, his arm wrapping around your waist to usher you out of the main office, calling out a ‘thank you’ as you left.

“What the fuck was that?” You grabbed your bag from the back of the van, shooting him a death glare only to be met with that ridiculous smirk he so loved to taunt you with.

“What, you don’t wanna be my bride?” He faux pouted, dark waves falling in his face as you reached for his bag. You over-exaggeratedly rolled your eyes, starting to walk toward the room.

“Guess it’s the atmosphere of this place getting to me, babydoll.” He slammed the door of the van, jogging to catch up with you as you started putting the key in the door lock. Your cheeks burned in embarrassment from how that little nickname made your heart want to burst out of your chest, Eddie always knew exactly how to push your buttons in the best way and this was no exception.

The sight that greeted you beyond the door was like something out of a 70’s porno, wood paneled walls framing crimson velour window trimmings, a matching velvet comforter sprawled across the queen bed. Two poorly painted angels sat perched atop the heart shaped headboard, like prying eyes seeing every depraved act carried out on the altar below. Sure enough, at the far end of the suite was a heart shaped jacuzzi tub, tiled steps leading up and mirrors lining the walls of the corner it was tucked into.

You dropped your bag on top of the mahogany dresser across from the bed, and as you turned on your heel to shut the door behind Eddie, you couldn’t help but burst into a small fit of laughter at the cross hanging above the door frame. The idea that anything happening in this sex den was god-honoring was definitely scoff-worthy.

“What d'ya say we put that thing to use? My back is killing me and I bet those jets would feel killer.” Eddie’s fingertips dug firm indents into the flesh of your hip, a not-so-subtle indication of what his intentions were for the night.

“Whatever you want, daddy.” You winked, taking a step forward until his large hand gripped your forearm.

“What did you just call me?” He questioned, brow quirked in curiosity.

“It’s our wedding night, remember? Don’t you wanna start a family?” Your tone was playful but truthfully something about this place was stirring a feeling so raw inside of you that you weren’t kidding in the slightest.

“If you keep that up you won’t be able to walk in the morning.” Eddie released his grip, slapping your ass as you walked away to turn on the faucet for the tub.

“Won’t need to anyway, I’ll be sitting in your shitty van for 12 more hours.” You knew exactly how to push his buttons, and insulting any of his women (his guitar, his van, and you) was the quickest way to do so.

“That mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble.” He half-snapped at you, digging through his duffle bag in an ill-fated attempt to stop himself from watching the way you wiggled your ass while you bent over the side of the tub, watching the waterline rise.

“What are you gonna do, spank me?” You found yourself deliberately arching your back toward to accentuate the curve of your ass, hoping with every fiber of your being he’d stop what he was doing and manhandle you a little.

“Only if you don’t stop with the bratty attitude.” He glanced over at you and immediately dropped the shirt he was pretending to fold back into his bag, finally giving up on his resistance and approaching you from behind, the rough denim of his jeans rubbing against your bare thighs. His fingers slipped into the waistband of your pj shorts and underwear, roughly yanking them down to expose your ass.

“Gotta get you outta these if we’re gonna take that bath.” His tone had returned to that lighthearted sarcasm that you loved to hate, and you almost let yourself sink back against him. Instead, you stood upright again, taking the hem of his tattered Iron Maiden shirt in your grip and lifting it up his torso until he pulled it the rest of the way over his head.

Just as he reached to do the same to your tank top, you turned away and reached for the tap again, putting a stop to the stream of running water. He gripped your waist, pulling you back against him before pulling your tank over your head, leaving you fully naked.

“Get in.” He whispered against the shell of your ear, sending a shiver up your spine that had goosebumps rising over your skin. Maybe it was your residual high, or the lovesick atmosphere of your surroundings, but everything felt heightened, your skin more sensitive, his presence behind you more intimidating, his voice more intoxicating.

You ascended the short step and sunk into the bath, the water level rising to not quite cover your chest as you laid back into the left arch of the heart. Eddie watched your every move, eyes glued to your hips to drink in the way your form shifted with every step. He made quick work of removing his jeans, letting the stiff denim pool at his feet as he watched you settle in, your gaze drifting to the waistband of his plaid boxers. He pulled them down at an almost agonizing slow pace, exposing inch after inch of his semi-hard shaft to your waiting eyes until his cock sprung free, the sheer weight of him causing his length to slap against his upper thighs.

You absentmindedly pressed your thighs together, trying to dull the ache between them to no avail. You never truly got used to seeing him fully naked, blushing like a naive virgin every time you had the privilege of seeing him like this. The muscles of his thigh flexed as he took the step up to level with the lip of the tub, towering over you before sinking into the water beside you. He was an Adonis, all toned muscle under a tender layer of plush tissue that made for the perfect sleeping partner, strong and comforting all the same.

“Come here, doll.” He patted his thigh, the water swaying with the movement alongside the low hum of his voice. You rose to your knees, floating to the other side of the tub and straddling his lap, your core sitting dangerously close to his cock. His hands found your hips, calloused fingertips digging into your soft skin with a squeeze before gliding up your sides, his thumbs ghosting over the sides of your breasts almost teasingly while he admired the way water droplets dripped down over your nipples.

“Always so gorgeous.” He groaned, strong hands finally encompassing your breasts, kneading tender flesh as his rough palms gave your stiff peaks the friction they desperately craved.

His touch lit a fire within you, and as much as the way that he looked at you with such admiration made your heart melt, your need was becoming more and more unbearable by the second. You shifted forward, rubbing your folds over the length of his shaft with a hunger, desperate for stimulation.

Before you knew it he had dropped his grip from your chest, threading a hand into your hair to yank your head softly back, drawing a gasp from your throat.

“Did I tell you you could move?” He questioned, cocking his head to the side and raising his eyebrow. He couldn’t help his sarcastic nature, it just came so naturally to him, and knowing that he had such an immense effect on you gave him the ego boost of the century. You shook your head as much as you could given the grip he held on your tresses, and choked out a soft ‘no’ in response before clearing your throat.

“I-I think I deserve some relief after being in the van all day.” You tried to put up a fight, not quite done riling him up, but your tone was quickly losing all conviction and Eddie could see you slipping further into desperation.

“You don’t deserve anything, you’ve been a pampered little passenger princess for 16 hours while I’ve done all of the work to get us here.” He yanked your hair back even further, craning your neck to look up at the baby pink popcorn ceiling. The sting in your scalp brought tears to your eyes, the liquid breaching your waterline leaving dark mascara trails down your cheeks in its wake.

“You’re being awfully bratty, doll, where’d my sweet girl go?” He cooed, free hand cupping your cheek as he loosened his grip ever so slightly to allow you to look at him.

“I’m sorry Eddie, I’m just so sore.” You sniffled, tears still falling from the shame the disappointment in his tone made you feel.

“Don’t cry baby, just need you to listen, okay?” He dropped his grip on your hair, both hands cupping your face, looking lovingly into your glazed eyes. You could feel his cock growing beneath you, the sight of dark makeup running down your tear stained face serving as the perfect aphrodisiac. He adored seeing you all messy like this, his perfect angel looking like a filthy whore, only for his eyes to see.

“Think we can both get some relief tonight if you’re good, can you be good for me?” You frantically nodded your head. “Yes, I promise!” Your enthusiasm made him laugh low in the back of his throat, that goofy smile returning to his face.

“Need you to use your words and tell me what you want, can you do that?” His tone held sickly sweet condescension and you could feel yourself slipping into that mind numbing headspace, wishing he could just slip into your mind for a moment and see all the dirty things you wanted him to do to you.

“Need you inside, please.” Your words came out barely above a whisper and he knew he wouldn’t get too much more out of you before you devolved into a mewling mess, too lost in your own mind to articulate your thoughts, but he couldn’t help but play with you a little longer.

“Inside where, sweetheart? Here?” He mused, bringing his free hand to your mouth, pointer and middle fingers prodding at your parted lips. You quickly took them in, sucking softly on his digits as you shook your head no, oral fixation too strong to pass up the opportunity to have any part of him in your mouth.

“If that’s not what you want then you need to tell me, don’t be greedy.” He pulled his fingers from your lips with a pop, his tone falling an octave. Your eyes widened, nodding in acknowledgment, willing to do anything to please him at this point.

“I-I need you down here, please.” You took his wrist in your shaky hand, guiding him down to dip into the warm water, lifting your hips slightly so his hand could fit in the tight space between your bodies, pressing his fingertips to the tight ring of muscles at your entrance. You stopped, releasing his wrist, not wanting to break any unknown rule and let him take the reins from there. He brought the heel of his palm up to rut firmly against your clit, drawing quiet whimpers as you did your best to stay still.

“What do you want here, doll? My fingers, or something else?” He teased, dipping two of his fingers inside only up to the first knuckle, the slight stimulation almost torturous as he scissored his fingers inside, stretching open the first inch of your cunt.

“God, something else, please.” You sighed, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“What then?” He stopped his movements, withdrawing his hand and you groaned from the lack of friction.

“Your cock, Eddie, please just let me ride you.” You swore you were trying to be good, but you were starting to feel like you’d lose your mind if you didn’t get the stimulation you were in desperate need of and you didn’t care how impatient you sounded.

“Only because you asked so nicely.” He laughed, his hands gripping your hips to guide you up just enough for his cock to stand upright in the water, the tip bumping against your weeping cunt. “Whenever you’re ready, babydoll. You want it so bad, you’re gonna do the work.”

You took his hint, bringing your hand beneath you to grip his member, finally sinking slowly down onto him until you could feel him in your stomach, the all too anticipated stretch making you cry out in relief after his teasing. He groaned, running a hand through his curls as he settled back against the edge of the tub, watching you start to slowly grind your hips, just feeling how full he made you feel.

After a few minutes you lifted your hips once more, starting a steady pace bouncing on his lap, the head of his cock rubbing against the tender patch of nerves deep inside your cunt, velvety walls engulfing him with every movement. The water surrounding you started to roll like waves, splashing against the sides of the tub, threatening to spill out onto the tile surrounding it. You took notice, slowly your movements to lessen the potential mess, and Eddie sighed.

“We’ll clean it up later baby, just let go.” He reassured you, secretly just as desperate as you were to get off. He didn’t care about a little clean up, let alone wiping some water off the floor.

You were hesitant but returned to your previous pace, angling your hips back to really allow his cock to hit the sensitive place inside you, euphoria slowly building in your core. Your gaze slowly shifted from his face and when you caught the sight of yourself in the mirrors surrounding the tub you gasped, the lewd image of your makeup stained face and your tits bouncing with every movement of your hips was something almost pornographic, really living up to the atmosphere of the room.

Eddie caught where your eyes had shifted to and groaned, throwing his head back to properly watch you get off to your own reflection.

“Look at yourself, bouncing on my cock like a desperate whore, making such a mess.” His hand came down to press against your lower stomach, his thumb rubbing quick circles over your clit until you were a moaning mess, your thighs burning with the almost brutal pace you were now maintaining.

“Want you to make me a daddy.” He moaned, his breaths becoming more labored. His statement broke you from your trance, your gaze falling back to his as you searched his eyes for any hint of sarcasm, but you found none, he wasn’t kidding.

“Can I knock you up, babydoll?” He reiterated the sentiment, increasing the pressure on your clit and feeling you pulse around him, your orgasm dangerously close.

“I need an answer before you or I can cum sweetheart.” He was panting, straining to prevent himself from finishing, and you did everything you could to pull yourself together enough to answer.

“Yes, Eddie, please!” You maimed, tears threatening your waterline from how close you were to the edge.

“Say it.” He groaned, locking eyes with you one last time.

“Please cum inside me daddy, please!” You cried out, tipping over the edge with one last slam of your hips, pleasure rolling over you in tandem with the waves of the water around you, your walls contracting over and over around him until his warmth spread throughout your cunt. You wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly against you until the aftershocks stopped wracking your body, relaxing on his lap.

“You okay angel?” His voice was strained but sweet as ever, always concerned about your wellbeing above anything else.

“Yeah.” You mumbled, smiling silently against his neck.

Once you were fully recovered, you raised off of him, both of you wincing at the loss momentarily before sinking under the now lukewarm water for one final rinse. You began to step out, Eddie right behind you to grab your waist when your foot almost slipped out from under you because of the slick tile.

“Careful babydoll, don’t want you to slip.” He held you firm as you stepped down, making sure you were safe on the ground level before following you out, handing you one of the fresh towels from the pile next to the tub. He wiped up the excess water off the ground as you dried yourself off, and you didn’t know if it was the cold air or the rational part of your brain turning back on, but something started to eat at you as you watched your boyfriend dry himself off.

“Is it okay that I called you that?” The worry in your voice almost made Eddie’s heart break into a million pieces, and he quickly wrapped the towel around his hips before taking you into his arms.

“I loved it, babydoll, I promise I would tell you if I didn’t.” He smoothed your hair away from your face, giving you a kiss on the forehead.

“How about we put on our pajamas and turn on a movie.” He smiled down at you, waiting for your approving nod before going to your bags on the dresser and pulling out your second pair of pj’s. He helped you into them before pulling on his own old band shirt and fresh boxers and crawling into the gaudy bed with you, cuddling up to watch whatever cheesy horror flick was airing on late night tv.

——

tags: @xxbimbobunnyxx @your-nightmaredoll

also tagging: @babygorewhore @taintandviolent @littlexdeaths @eddiesxangel @bimbotrashcan bc i thought you might be interested, please message me if you’d like me to remove you

please message me or send me an ask if you’d like to be tagged in future eddie fics!!

[rizzanon]

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m.list | prev | next

“I want every perimeter of this warehouse locked down—now. No one gets in or out unless I authorize it. Is that clear?”

“Double the guard on every exit. Sweep the surrounding area. I don’t care if you have to go block by block—make sure none of those bastards slip through.”

“Commissioner! There’s someone here.”

.

.

.

“Quickly, get some paramedics down here. No one touches Batgirl’s mask—is that understood?”

.

.

.

“Get the paramedics to stabilize her, but that’s it—nothing more. No one treats her except Dr Leslie Thompkins.”

.

.

.

“What of the drug dealers?”

“We managed to catch most of them, sir. They were distracted by Batgirl’s appearance—probably trying to figure out what to do with her when she showed up and foiled their dealings tonight. But… a few managed to escape in the chaos.”

“Damnit. Notify the precinct to put out an APB. I want every available unit on this. We’re not letting this operation slip through the cracks.”

.

.

.

“I don’t care who’s out there or how far they think they’ve gotten. We’re shutting this operation once and for all. If Batgirl risked her life for this, we owe her this much.”

“Sir…”

“What?”

.

.

.

“I’m sorry, Commissioner…. Batgirl… she’s dead.”

.

.

.

“What. Happened.”

“Bruce, please calm down—“

“Where is my daughter?”

“Bruce—“

“Leslie. Where. Is. My. Daughter.”

“I—I’m sorry, Bruce. I tried everything—“

“Where is she? I need to see her. Now.”

.

.

.

Where did it go wrong?

How did it come to this?

Bruce swore—swore—he’d never let what happened to Jason happen again. Not to any of them. He’d built walls, created rules, pushed himself to the breaking point to ensure it. All of it was to stop this—this—from happening.

So why… why was he staring at your lifeless body now? Why was the weight of his failure suffocating him all over again? Why had he failed you, just like he failed Jason?

His fists clenched at his sides as he took a shaky step forward. His breath hitched, and for the first time in a long time, the weight of helplessness settled heavily on his chest.

“God…damnit…” he choked, his voice cracking under the weight of his grief. “Open your eyes. Please.”

The room was too quiet. Too still. The sterile hum of the machines was a cruel mockery of life.

Bruce dropped to his knees beside the bed, his gloved hand trembling as he reached for yours. It felt so small, so cold.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” he whispered, his voice trembling, the words breaking apart with every syllable. “I promised—I promised I’d protect you. And I couldn’t even do that.”

He bowed his head, his forehead brushing against your hand as his grip tightened. “I’m sorry. I failed you.”

so… 🫣

have this while i continue working on chapter 3 and 4 🥰

taglist (open): @tricksters-maze @dusk-muse @quethekillerqueen @silverklaus @isupportorbitalbombardment @nxdxsworld @vanessa-boo @coffeeaddictxd @moonsbluekingdom @yuya-bubbly @percythebitchwitch @anonymousdisco @jason-todd-fangirl-14 @redsakura101 @what-0-life @idkwhattoputhete @secretyouthcomputer @witch-waycult @allycat4458 @dazed-lavender @eclecticfurylady @wizzerreblogs @marsmabe @daddysfangirls-dc @hoeinthehouse @beeweensblog @ilxandra @agent-nobody-knows @thethingwiththefeathers @mochiivqi @pix-stuff @narration-ator @nebulousmoon3990 @delias-stuff @froggy-voidd @jjsmeowthie @kore-of-the-underworld @nen-nyy @juthesillylesbain @vikkus-main @emilylouise123 @blueiones @horror-lover-69 @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wassupbroski55555 @reallyromealone @plsfckmedxddy @sea-glasses @203moonysello @luvly-writer @dovey-quacks2332 @love-theangel @hotdinosankles @vebbiewuzhere @animegirlfromvietnam @estreiiuh @simply-lovely78 @twismare @ssak-i @g4bbi3xx @buddee @alor-thes | ask to be added <3 (idk why i can’t tag some of y’all, must be your settings i think 😓)

[shellshocklove]

ridin' shotgun | joel miller

pairing/AU: joel miller x female!reader – post breakout & no ellie AU

summary: as the snow covers the land, joel starts to like his new life on the farm, but is it too good to be true?

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni!!! canon-typical violence, age gap (reader is mid to late twenties), swearing, guns, vomit, use of pet names, fluff, angst, fingering, oral (f receiving), some tags are left out to avoid spoilers, no use of y/n

a/n: this is the second part to this. so i'd recommend reading that before this one. i'm very sorry this took me so long! i'm hoping it was worth the wait! <3 also a big thank you to @dustydaddyyy who's always up for helping me when i'm stuck <3 happy reading!

main masterlist / series masterlist / ao3 / playlist

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 this account stands with palestine. the creator of tlou is a zionist, and the second game is largly based on israel/palestine. please, everyone who interacts, educate yourself about the genocide happening right now, and support/donate.

“Morning, Joel,” Arthur greeted him as Joel entered the kitchen.

Joel felt far from rested. His eyes burned with sleep behind his eyelids. He’d love another hour or two on his pillow, but Arthur’s heavy steps coming down the stairs had woken him.

Damn, these thin walls.

“Mornin’,” Joel said as he sat down at the dining table, looking past the curtain on the portrait of the day. The world was blue with dusk, contrasting the low candlelight inside. Alma stood at the stove, butter crackling in the frying pan as she cracked an egg, then another, two suns in a greasy night sky.

“I think we’ll bring the logging sled today,” Arthur spoke up and gestured out the window, “I think the snow is more than deep enough for the sled.”

“Yeah?” Joel looked out the window again. Assessing the snow, he guessed it was about two feet give or take.

“Yeah, I think it’s gonna be enough– If not we’ll test-drive the sled, make sure it can handle the weight.” Arthur continued, but Joel lost interest as soon as he heard the sound of a door shutting down the hall.

Joel hummed, leaning back in his chair, his eyes flickering to the door of the kitchen waiting to see you walk through. A moment later, you padded into the kitchen in your pajamas, feet clad in soft wool socks. You’d thrown a sweater over your sleep shirt, but Joel remembered how the thin fabric had clung to your skin last night. Remembered the shape of your nipples poking through, the sounds you’d made as you’d whimpered his name. Joel’s cock twitched in his pants at the memory; crashing against the wave of shame and guilt that washed over him when he recalled what he’d done after he’d stepped back into his room.

“Good morning, sweetie,” Arthur greeted you as you sat down, opposite Joel.

“Good morning,” you smiled, resting your chin in the palm of your hand, tiredness like a faraway look across your face.

“Did you sleep well?” Arthur asked.

Your eyes widened at the question, quickly flickering to Joel before they found the table. Your face dug deeper into your hand as you twisted slightly in your chair. A shy smile blossomed across your face.

Huh.

A forgotten tickling feeling of pride filled Joel’s chest as he watched you. The way you avoided his gaze, like your dreams would show through your eyes if you did. But Joel didn’t need to hold your gaze to understand. Something had shifted, both for him and for you. It was different now.

A chuckle escaped Arthur at your motions, “That good, huh?” Arthur teased, “All fairytales and rainbows?”

“Something like that,” you breathed out a chuckle.

Joel cringed. He was closer to a nightmare. Why did he even entertain his thoughts of you? You were the one who was a rainbow, while he’d paint you in a dull grayscale.

Joel let out an inaudible sight, and leaned back in the creaky kitchen chair, as his hands twisted in his lap. He didn’t miss the way his movement caught your eye as he felt the drumroll of your gaze break over him. Joel didn’t dare move, scared he’d scare the warmth of your attention away. But something pulled at his chest, and he couldn’t deny himself to look at you, to drink in your early morning shyness. You didn’t look away this time, instead you smiled. It was a small and polite smile, but it still felt like a kiss to his skin. The small moment between you only lasted a second, but to Joel it felt like an eternity – one he wouldn’t mind spending with you.

You dropped your gaze when Alma placed the breadbasket on the table, and like it had broken a spell, you immediately stood to your feet, “Let me help you, Alma.”

A moment later the table was set and ready, and Arthur was already helping himself to a fried egg. Safe for the sound of cutlery against porcelain plates, a silence fell over the kitchen.

“We uh,” Arthur started, looking over at you, “We were thinking of using the logging sled today,” he informed with a dig into his eggs. “'Could use your help saddling up the horse.”

“Okay,” you nodded, reaching across the table for the butter, “but I need to milk the cows first– you know how they get if I don’t do it first thing–”

“I can do that, sweetie,” Alma interrupted you with a smile, taking a bite of her bread.

“Oh, okay,” you turned your head to Alma as you said it, giving her a smile, but Joel could see the worry behind it. “But if it’s too much I’ll be right there–”

Alma cut you off again, “I can handle it– I did this all by myself before you came along, you know.” She said it with a wink to put you at ease, but Joel saw how your teeth dug into your bottom lip, and he wanted nothing more than to ease it away with a kiss.

No. No kiss.

Shit.

After last night, Joel couldn’t think straight. He wanted you now. He wanted what he knew he couldn’t have– what he shouldn’t have. With his eyes boring down into his plate, he tried to will his wants away. Tried his best to not build memories on things not yet said – to not feel the ache of never having touched you.

The air nipped harshly at Joel’s cheeks. The sun had finally risen over the mountain, shining its light over the crystals in the snow. A thousand diamonds blinked at him as he helped Arthur pull the log sled out of the barn. It was covered in dust and dirt, and the cobwebs stuck to Joel’s mittens like cling film. Clapping his hands, a cloud of dust evaporated from his hands – almost cartoon-like.

Joel picked at the yarn, trying to cover the hole that had become wider and wider every day. He felt bad about it; you’d made them for him out of the goodness of your heart, and now he’d ruined them– or the work had. Sharp branches had hooked themselves through the stiches, and the rough bark had worn the yarn down.

As Arthur checked the sled, and got it ready, Joel felt himself drawn to the open stable door. Leaning against the barn door he watched you quietly. You worked with practiced hands, saddling the old workhorse, Ingydar, as you talked to it in a low voice.

“You’re going to work in the woods today,” you said to the beloved nag, “Work in the woods with Arthur and Joel. Do you remember Joel? He’s a nice man, isn’t he?”

Joel felt his cheeks warm at your words, his eyes falling to the worn wood floor, as he continued to listen to your little conversation.

“Yes, he is! He’s very nice– fed you too many carrots last time he said hello, didn’t he? But you liked that, didn’t you?”

Joel looked up at that, his eyes locking with yours’ as you looked straight at him, a teasing smirk covering your face.

“That ain’t how I remember it,” Joel defended, stepping closer to the open stall door. You tightened the straps on the saddle while your smile grew larger at his words.

“No?” You teased, moving on to checking the straps on the bridle.

Joel stepped closer, his mitten clad hand coming up to pet the old horse. “No,” Joel shook his head, “you kept handin’ me all those carrots ‘s how I remember it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you laughed, stepping closer.

“Sure, you don’t,” Joel teased, a rare smile tugging at his lips, matching your own.

Locking eyes with you again, Joel felt something light bubble under the surface of his ribcage. You really were beautiful like this – eyes sparkling and smile wide. He couldn’t remember the last time someone looked at him the way you were right now – like he hadn’t lost everything, like he didn’t have blood all over his hands, like he was worthy of a smile.

Stepping even closer, you noticed the holes in them. “Joel, your mittens.”

“Sorry…” he started, trailing off when you grabbed his hands, “They get hooked in the branches ‘nd–”

“Don’t apologize,” you cut him off, with a shake of your head, “I can fix them– it’s no problem.”

The sun shone through a small window in the back wall of the stall. Bright white light lit up the back of your head, crowning you in the morning. You stood so close now, the warmth of your finger brushing over his rough skin through the hole, and his hands suddenly felt heavy in yours.

A burden you shouldn’t bear.

“Uh…” Joel cleared his throat as he stepped away, pulling his hands from yours, “Thank you.”

Finishing up saddling the horse you led it out the stall door, the iron shoes click-clacked against the worn wood floor before it fell silent against the snow when you led the horse outside. With a nod in the direction of the house you told him to wait inside for you.

“Would ya let Arthur know he can go right ahead with the sled?” he asked you, his body half-turned towards the barn house.

You let out a breathy laugh, a frosty cloud of smoke clouding your smile before you nodded.

Inside, he waited for you on the couch, watching you wave Arthur off on the horse through the window. Joel’s heart picked up its beat when he heard your hollow steps across the porch. He shifted slightly in his seat when you walked in, almost standing but then decided against it in the same moment, rubbing his hands over his thighs instead.

Stomping off the snow covering your shoes you smiled at him like always, and Joel didn’t know what to do. A feeling starting to bubble under the surface of his skin. Excitement? Nervousness? Dread? Joel couldn’t tell. Maybe he felt all three at once– if that was possible. Excitement at the prospect of being alone with you, but also nervousness at the prospect of being alone with you. They gathered around his heart, filled his chest, but the dread, it climbed up his spine, bit its cold teeth in the back of his neck.

“Just let me grab my things,” you hurried with a gesture towards your room.

Joel cleared his throat and nodded. It felt clumsy and awkward, and he cursed himself for it while he waited for you. He couldn’t be alone with you. Couldn’t entertain the growing feelings. It wasn’t right – to you – Joel needed to stay away, to keep a friendly distance.

Joel sighed and closed his eyes.

Nothin’s happenin’. 

Like a broken record, those two words spun in Joel’s head in the few seconds it took before you were back in the living room, dropping down next to him with your basket overflowing with yarn.

It felt like déjà vu.

You worked in a comfortable silence, and Joel didn’t know if he should say anything. He watched how you worked your needle with a practiced hand – you made it look so easy – but Joel knew it wasn’t. A lifetime ago he’d spent way too many nights with a needle in his hand trying to mend a hole over the knee of tiny pink pants, his stubby fingers gripping the needle tightly, guiding it clumsily through the fabric until he was red in the face from frustration.

He needed to thank you, but should he say it now or wait until you’d finished? The longer he watched you, the stronger that bubbling feeling felt, bubbling over, up his throat and over the bite of dread.

“There!” you smiled when you’d fastened off the last stich. You grabbed a hold of his hands before he’d had time to think and pulled the mittens over his knuckles.

“Thank you,” he said, voice scruff but tone still shyer than he’d expected.

You smiled at him again and leaned a little closer to readjust the mittens, tugging at the yarn where you’d mended them, pulling them into the right shape.

“You’re welcome, Joel.” You locked eyes with him and suddenly Joel noticed how close you sat. It made him hold his breath as his heart started hammering against his chest.

His gaze flickered towards your lips for half a second, wishing for something he couldn’t have– shouldn’t have. He caught himself quickly, finding your eyes again but they were fixated on something else, his lips. Who leaned in first, Joel would never know, the only thing he knew was the feel of your breath against his lips before they brushed over yours in a soft kiss.

Warm. Joel felt so warm.

His hands worked by their own volition; mitten clad, and soft against your cheek, pulling you closer to him, but not close enough. Your hand grabbed at his jacket in the crook of his elbow, tethering yourself to him, to the moment, like you’d float away if you didn’t. You hummed against his lips, a desperate sound as you shifted closer.

The sound messed with Joel’s head, he wanted to hear more of it, pull it from you again. His tongue teased at the seam of your lips, a distant thought at the back of his head questioning where his boldness suddenly came from, but he ignored it.

It didn’t matter.

The sound escaped you once more and you opened yourself up to him. Joel’s other hand, moving with desperate urgency, found your hip – pulling you even closer. He licked into your mouth, and he fell deeper into you, deeper into the grip you’d snaked around his heart.

A loud slam of the kitchen door pulled Joel away, and the reality of what he’d done trickled coldly down his spine. Out in the kitchen Alma rummaged around while you looked at him with bright eyes, pupils slightly dilated with a hazy smile across your lips.

Joel felt awful.

He shouldn’t have done that.

He’d taken advantage of you. He’s too old for you – none of this was right.

You noticed the change in him, you must’ve, because your eyebrows pulled together in the smallest of frowns as you regarded him.

“Joel,” you started, your voice low and soft, but he just shook his head.

“I’m sorry!” Joel quickly stood to his feet, wiping his hands on his jeans as though that would somehow erase what he’d done. “We– I shouldn’t have done that– I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” you tried to grab at his hand, but Joel only shook his head again.

“I’m sorry.”

Joel was out the door before he could regret it, lord knows he couldn’t take anymore regret. His life had been full of them, full of ‘I shouldn’t haves’. He dug his mitten-clad hands in the pockets of his jacket, his head hanging low as he headed down the road towards the forest.

A heavy blanket of clouds had shaded the morning sun, the world darkened in the beginnings of real winter. As a snowflake kissed his cheek, his thoughts wandered to the butterfly he’d seen all those weeks ago. How it had rested over his knee– made him think of Sarah.

You’re on the right path.

Joel had never felt this lost.

The kiss.

It took up most of Joel’s mind. When he worked himself hard with an axe in his hand, when he was counting sheep, but most of all, each time he saw you. Then his thoughts had a mind of its own, reminding him of how your lips had felt against his own, the feel of your body under his touch, and the sounds you’d made just for him. The kiss had been the first kiss who’d made him want another. The first kiss where he’d pulled away and not been satisfied. He needed to kiss you again, to feed this new hunger for you.

But it wasn’t right. An old man like him with someone like you. It wasn’t a good idea– would never be a good idea.

So, Joel tried his best to avoid you, but avoiding you was impossible – you lived in the same house, shared a bedroom wall. He saw you every day whether he liked it or not – and he did.

He liked you, and it scared the shit out of him.

He felt like he lived in a cruel state of limbo. He didn’t know what you were thinking. If you were mad (you had every right), if you were disappointed (he hoped you weren’t), or happy (maybe the most devastating thought of all).

The fire crackled loudly, sparks kicking, the sound making you look up from your book. Joel’s eyes found his own book, rereading the same paragraph he’d been trying to read for the last thirty minutes– ever since Arthur and Alma had retired to bed. This was the first time he’d been alone with you since the kiss, and he felt it all over his body. The aftermath of the kiss sticking to his body like the Austin heat had done in the peak of summer – he couldn’t shake it off, couldn’t ignore it.

“When was the last time you cut your hair?” you suddenly spoke across the silence.

Your question was unexpected, and it made him pull his brows together in a frown. “You sayin’ I look bad?” Joel asked, dogearing the page he was on before closing his book.

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head, “No-no, I mean it’s just a little long.”

Joel looked at you for a second before he ran a hand through his hair. Well, it wasn’t like you weren’t right. Lately his hair had started to get in his eyes, even when he pushed it back. Most days when he was working outside, he could tame it under the knitted beanie you’d made him, but it had started to have a life of its own.

“Boston. I think, Tes–” he cut himself off before he said her name, clearing his throat awkwardly to cover his slip up. He’d forgotten, forgotten for a second that she was dead. Forgotten she’d died for him and his stupid quest to find his brother. Died for nothing.

“I can trim it for you… if you want?” you asked with a bite of your lip.

He couldn’t say no to you.

“Uh… yeah,” he nodded, “Okay.”

As you led him up the stairs to the bathroom, Joel tried not to think too hard about what it would mean – you cutting his hair. He tried not to think about how the last person who’d done something like that for him was Tess, and what it meant that she was gone– that it now would be you.

Your fingers running through his wet hair felt good– what didn’t feel good was the way his back almost gave out from leaning his head in the bathroom sink. The basin was too small, and the tap hung too low for him to comfortably turn his head, instead the water spilled down his face.

Why the hell was he drowning himself for you?

“Done soon?” he grunted, his hands gripping the sides of the sink while he felt your fingers scrub at his roots.

Yes, Joel was uncomfortable, but the way you stood so close – practically leaning on him – it felt nice. So nice that Joel thought that if his eyes weren’t already shut, they’d flutter shut at your touch.

Soap suds ran down the sides of his face as you giggled, “Just a little longer.”

You maneuvered his head back under the tap, your right hand running through his hair under the water while the left covered his eyes in a useless attempt. Then you grabbed the towel resting next to him on the porcelain, the world suddenly silenced through fabric as you dried his now clean hair.

“You can stand now,” you told him with a small tap to his back as you stepped away. You’d laid the towel around his shoulders, ready to catch any excess water.

Joel groaned, “I don’t think I can.”

You giggled again and then your hands wrapped around him, helping him up. Joel groaned again, but this time for show. He liked the way you touched him, gentle – always gentle. He plopped down in the chair you’d brought in from the spare bedroom, while you got your comb and scissors ready. The wooden chair creaked as he shifted his legs, widening them while he rested his hands in his lap.

He’d never seen this chair before, but then again Joel hadn’t explored the house much – it didn’t feel right. He was a guest after all, only staying for a few months– or was he? His eyes found you in the mirror, and then that thought suddenly felt awfully wrong.

“Ready?” you turned around to him, a pair of kitchen scissors in one hand, and an old shaver plugged into the wall in the other.

You didn’t say much as you worked. It was uncharacteristic for a hairdresser, at least from what he could remember. Back before the outbreak he’d rarely gotten his hair cut by someone other than himself. With his clipper guard set to four he’d tidy up the sides when it was needed and called it a day.

Your quietness was also uncharacteristic to you. You never talked his ear off, but you were never this quiet – at least you weren’t before the–

Stop.

Joel tried not to think about that.

He’d gone and fucked everything up now. Instead, he stole a glance at you in the mirror, watched the way your lips pursed in concentration to the metal sound of scissors snipping, and the low buzz of the shaver.

He needed to apologize to you.

“I…” he started, watching your head snap curiously to watch him in the mirror.

No turning back now– just say it.

“I’m sorry ‘bout the other day– It wasn’t right to kiss you like that.”

Your curiosity pulled into confusion across your face, and your eyebrows tugged together in a frown.

“You don’t have to be sorry, Joel,” you told him, your voice gentle, “I didn’t exactly–... well I definitely wasn’t stopping you.” You said it with an awkward laugh. Your kind, always kind, eyes that’d watched him in the mirror, now glued to the back of his head as you gently combed his hair.

Joel felt something bloom in his chest at your words, and despite himself, he felt his cheeks warm slightly as thoughts invaded his mind. 

Maybe he should tell you why he did it. 

Shit, did Joel even know why he did it? 

“I thought you–” Joel felt the words stall in his throat for a second, before he cleared it decisively. 

No going back now, he thought to himself, just rip off the band aid you idiot.

Another part of Joel screamed at him to stop the words before they even left his lips, and his doubts gnawed at his insides with more intensity than ever.

“The other night, when you were asleep,” he paused to swallow, a lump growing in his throat, “I was getting to bed and I heard–... well, y’were sort of having a dream, sweetheart.”

With nervous eyes, Joel found your face in the mirror, and watched the way the smiling expression dropped off your face, quickly replaced by a wide-eyed look of pure mortification. 

“I���” you stuttered out, and Joel rushed to correct himself. 

“It’s nothin’ to be embarrassed about, I shouldn’t a been watchin’ you, I just–... thought maybe y’liked me, or something.” 

His words hung heavy in the air between you, and Joel’s heart picked up its beat as he watched how all your movements suddenly went quiet, along with the shaver, seemingly processing all this new information.

Your eyes found the back of his head again, and when he felt the comb run through his hair again, Joel suddenly felt very guilty for even bringing it up. 

Stupid. Why on earth would he do that? Was he trying to send you into an early grave? 

“I’m sorry you walked in on that,” you finally managed, your eyes fixated on your working hands as you refused to meet Joel’s eye – looking infinitely embarrassed.

You’re sorry? He didn’t want to hear those words leave your mouth ever again – the only person in this bathroom who was sorry, was him.

In the mirror you looked so small, and it was his own doing. Your teeth dug harshly into your bottom lip as your combed, and combed, and combed his hair in a shaky hand. Joel felt his heart break.

He’d dug himself too deep now, Joel thought, he had to tell you, to reassure you it was okay.

After a beat of silence, Joel spoke again.

“I’m not.” 

Your eyes widened at his words before they snapped to the mirror, staring at him as the shears trembled slightly in your hand. Still, you didn’t say anything.

Joel didn’t have the faintest idea where he was going with this, and with the way you looked at him now, his doubts seemed to overtake him as he got the sudden urge to swallow his words right back up. 

“Look, forget I even said anything angel, I didn’t mean anythin’ by it–” 

The word slipped from his lips like the most natural thing in the world. Something flashed in your eyes through the mirror, he could’ve sworn it, and Joel seemed to realize a beat too late what he’d called you. Feeling his cheeks heat up, his embarrassment forced his gaze to fall anywhere but at you, quicklyfinding his hands knotted in his lap.

“Joel,” you said softly, and despite himself, Joel felt the earlier warmth expanding like a balloon in his chest, “It’s okay.” 

He perked up at your words, his eyes snapping from his hands to you as you moved, coming to stand in front of him. Your hands deftly moved the comb through his curls as he looked up at you through the strands. You seemed focused on cutting the ends, before you let out a breath. 

“It would’ve been okay if you had been watching, you know,” you said, your voice simple and even.

Joel felt his entire body tense at your words as his eyes bored into your face. He watched the way your face grimaced slightly; your eyes focused on snipping the strands right.

“I just mean I–” There was a pause as you gave him a half-embarrassed smile, your lips pursed together as you seemed to search for your next words. 

You were standing so close, so close he could smell the sweetness off you. You made him dizzy. Dizzy with warmth. Dizzy with proximity. Dizzy with something heavy in the depths of his chest he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Joel didn’t know why he did it, didn’t know why the way his hands moved felt like second nature, but when the tips of his fingers grazed the back of your knee in an attempt to reassure you, it felt like something was calling to him.

“It’s okay,” he told you, “You can tell me, angel.” 

Finally, your eyes met Joel’s. Those kind sparkling eyes bored into his own as you, in an attempt to gather some courage, swallowed hard.

“I–I do like you,” you said.

The finality of your words lodged something loose in Joel, and something he hadn’t felt in a long time flicker to life in his chest.

“That so?” he asked, his voice a little lower.

Somehow, you were stood even closer, only slightly taller than Joel as he angled his head up towards you. Your chest started to rise and fall in a quicker rhythm at his question. Looking at him, your lips twitched in a nervous smile as you turned slightly away from his, placing the comb and scissors on the sink gently.

You nodded.

Still turned away from him, he watched how you gathered yourself, your hands resting on the porcelain as your head hung low between your shoulder blades.

“When you…” you trailed off, moving the comb and scissors in a perfect parallel line next to each other. “When you,” you repeated, “kissed me… I thought maybe… you liked me back.”

It was now or never.

Joel knew it.

Standing from his chair, Joel’s hand found your shoulder, turning you to face him. You didn’t look at him right away, your head tipped in a bow as you fiddled with your fingers.

“Hey,” his fingers brushed lightly under your chin, tilting your head up. Your eyes were wide, flickering like sunlight over wavy water as you studied his face. His eyes fell to your lips – he couldn’t help it, and the memories of how they’d felt against him resurfaced in his mind. If he just leaned a little closer, he’d feel them again.

“Joel… if you don’t want me– if you don’t like me, you can just tell me– I’m a big girl.” Your voice sounded almost breathless, like you’d run up a flight of stairs or walked miles in knee deep snow.

Joel shook his head before you’d even finished your sentence. Don’t want you? Don’t like you? It was absurd.

“It ain’t that.”

“Then what is it?” The way the words left your lips, broken, beaten, it had Joel’s heart tear apart in his chest.

“It ain’t right, angel. I’m too old f’you– I can’t take advantage of you like that.”

A frown pulled at your face then, “Take advantage?” you questioned with a shake of your head. “I’m a grown woman, Joel. Would it be taking advantage if it was what I wanted? If what I wanted was… you?”

Joel had never thought about it like that before. The thought of you wanting him back had seemed like a fantasy – something that would never even be a possibility.

Your fingers moved a strand of hair out of his face, brushing it away, and Joel held his breath. Hesitating for just a second, you cupped his cheek gently and leaned closer. The softness of your lips over his own had Joel reeling – didn’t matter how quick or chaste the kiss had been – it only left him wanting more.

“I look stupid.”

“You don’t look stupid, Joel,” you laughed, full of joy.

You adjusted the bandana holder and fixed the crooked kerchief around his neck slightly. The red fabric picked up the warmth in his lined leather jacket, and the metal holder caught the shine of the sun.

Joel couldn’t believe he’d said yes.

This morning when he’d gotten up with the sun, Alma had stuck her head out of her and Arthur’s bedroom right as he was on his way out the bathroom. Arthur wasn’t feeling well, and Joel had prepared himself to work in the woods alone. It wasn’t the first time Arthur had gotten sick, and with the way he was looking lately, Joel figured it wouldn’t be the last.

He'd been washing his dishes from his breakfast when you’d padded into the kitchen. With a look over his shoulder, he’d caught the way you’d smiled at him before you padded over to him.

“Good morning,” you’d said and wrapped your arms around him from behind.

“Mornin’, angel,” he’d hummed back. He’d dried his plate and placed it on the counter before he’d turned around, still in your embrace.

Joel wasn’t used to it yet, your affection, he still had a hard time comprehending it was meant for him. That it wasn’t some joke you’d so cruelly played on him. A joke to see how long you could feed him this adoration until he’d get hooked on it, hooked on you, before pulling away.

Joel didn’t dare hold you too tightly. Everyone he’s ever held in his arms had been pulled away by death’s hands. Every day since you’d told him you liked him, wanted him, Joel had been afraid to lose you.

Maybe that’s why he’d said yes? You’d convinced him it’ll be safer for you if you knew how to shoot.

Joel didn’t know.

The only thing he knew was that he’d caved under your wide and blinking eyes. You’d looked too cute to say no, and he disliked seeing a frown upon your lips, unless he could kiss it away.

Which he did – but only when you were alone.

You’d both agreed to keep this thing, the fondness, the love, growing between you a secret. It was easier that way, at least until you both knew what it all meant. Right now, it was a thing, a fondness, but not yet a love, although Joel wasn’t far off if he were being honest with himself, especially when you looked at him with those moony eyes.

With a pat to his chest, you pushed off him with a smile. In a closet upstairs you’d found you both a cowboy hat and some bandanas you’d insisted on him wearing. The whole thing was silly, but the way you’d lit up with happiness when you’d placed the cowboy hat on his head, it didn’t matter to Joel.

“C'mon cowboy,” you laughed, and grabbed his hand.

He let you drag him with you before he caught up with you. He pulled at your arm so you crashed into his side, and wrapped his arm around your shoulder. It made you giggle, and the sound bubbled around Joel’s heart.

Ingydar stood waiting dutifully in his stall, where you’d gotten him ready. The saddle bags were packed with your lunches and a box of ammunition, and at the back of the saddle you’d rolled two sheep skins and tied them with leather ties. Everything was ready for your day out together.

Or your date, Joel thought as he trailed after you, closing the stable door behind him as you led the horse outside.

Joel insisted you get on the horse first with his help. He wanted to make sure you were comfortable and sat as safely as possible before he slid his foot into the stirrups. You wiggled around to mess with him, and Joel grabbed your knee to steady you. It made you giggle again, and he earned himself a ‘Relax, honey’. Then you leaned back and made space for him to get in front of you.

Joel liked the sound of ‘honey’.

“Y’alright back there?” Joel said over his shoulder after he’d gotten on the horse. Placing the shotgun over his lap, Joel made sure the safety was on before his hands came down to take yours where they rested over your thighs, and gently guided them to slot around his waist.

“Y’actually gotta hang on sweetheart, or you’ll slide right off the minute he starts trotting,” Joel said, fighting back a smile when he felt your arms tighten around him.

“I know how to ride a horse,” you retorted, and his chest shook with a slight chuckle. 

“Not saying you don’t, angel,” he replied easily, and kicked Ingydar lightly in the sides.

The old horse started walking, and Joel pulled on the reins, steering it down the road and then south towards the woods.

“’Just makin’ sure you ain’t gonna fall off ‘s all,” he said.

You hummed in return, leaning your body against his back. “It’ll have to be a really bumpy ride for me to fall off, Joel,” you spoke, the innuendo not lost on Joel.

He decided to pull at the thread a little, “And I s’pose you’ve had a lot of these bumpy rides, have you, angel?”

Your hands around his waist tightened slightly as he felt you lean over his shoulder, your hat dumping into his. A smile tugged at his lips, and in his side vision he could see you narrow your eyes playfully at him. 

“What are you insinuating, Joel Miller?” you asked him, your tone only half-sharp.

A chuckle rumbled in Joel’s chest, before he bit back a smirk. “I’m not insinuatin’ nothin’,” he replied, keeping his tone as normal as he could.

He felt your eyes study him for a moment before he heard you let out a dissatisfied hum. “You definitely are.” 

“Well, we got an entire horse ride to god knows where to debate it,” he shot back, which made you smile.

You leaned back again, and a second later he felt you rest your forehead against his back. Joel figured you must’ve flicked your hat off; letting it rest against your back tied by the string around your neck.

“An entire horse ride to god knows where?” you repeated half-mockingly, speaking into his back but Joel could hear your smile in your voice, “You really know how to make a girl wait for it.”  

“You have no idea, angel,” Joel replied, an otherwise joking tone overshadowed by something else, something more honest.

Behind him, Joel felt you shift, and a small spark of pride filled his chest. He had an effect on you, the same way you had an effect on him. Quickly, you changed the subject, and that spark of pride grew larger in Joel’s chest.

“Did you have a plan, by the way?” you asked him, your voice light and innocent, “Or are we just riding this horse off into the sunset?” 

“It’s the middle of the day,” Joel pointed out, “And you’re the one who put me in a bandana, so don’t even bother tellin’ me you ain’t the one with the plan.” 

You let out a giggle at this and pressed your face into his back once more. “Just keep going straight for now, you bore, I’ll tell you when.” 

Joel chuckled at you, and did as you said, guiding the horse south at the edge of the forest where the snow wasn’t as deep. He felt you tighten your hands slightly around his waist, before you fell into a comfortable silence.  

The horse held a steady pace, rocking you in a soothing rhythm in the saddle. The day was bright and sunny, almost blinding against the snow. Joel had never gone down this way before, never seen the stone face of the mountain up close, the way it cried glittery winter tears when the sun shone.

“There’s a river down here somewhere,” you suddenly spoke, breaking the silence that had built between you. “There’s a nice little spot down there where we can camp.”

Joel pulled at the reins, following in the direction you’d pointed. “You’ve been down this way before?” he asked.

“Maybe once or twice a year,” you started, “There’s this town, Jackson, maybe a week’s ride south. I’m not exactly supposed to talk about it– they run a pretty tight ship, coming off a little more threatening than they are, but they’re sort of like a commune. Arthur has this deal with one of the ladies, Maria, where we help each other out by trading.”

A frown pulled at Joel’s face, “I thought y’all were all alone out here?” 

“Well, we are, but not really. It’s because of them we still have running water and electricity– we’re connected to the same system they use. And then usually in the fall or in the spring Arthur will go trade with them for things we need like soap, or nails and stuff we can’t make on our own at the farm.”

Joel hummed, and the puzzle pieces of information you’d given him, started to fit into the bigger picture he’d painted of your life at the farm. He could understand why Alma and Arthur still resided at the farm. It was their home, the place where they’d lived their whole life, but for you, for you it was different.

“So… you know ‘em? You’ve gone with Arthur to meet this Maria?” he asked.

“A little, I guess. She’s uh…” you trailed off, resting your cheek against Joel’s back instead.

The river finally came into view, and Joel let you have the silence. He guided Ingydar down towards the riverbank. A wound cut the ice in two where the river poured backwards eternally. The water clucked under the ice as you rode along the edge; was it wishful thinking to think it sounded like the coming of spring?

“She?” Joel prodded gently.

Joel heard you sight before you sat up, no longer leaning your weight on him. “She invited me to come live with them… in Jackson.”

Joel frowned, “’nd you told her no?”

“Well… yes– I just, I can’t leave them alone.”

“Sweetheart–” Joel started, but you cut him off.

“Let’s stop here!”

You didn’t say anything as Joel watched you loosen the saddle bags and sheep skins, while he petted the old horse. He found himself wondering how you’d ended up on the farm, and if you could’ve been happier somewhere else– like Jackson.

He tied Ingydar to a tree, before he waded back to where you were trampling the snow flat. He helped you form a bench out of the snow, cutting through the layers until you found a hard enough crust to hold both your weights. The sheepskin warmed under him, as he sat down with a groan. It made you turn around from where you sat on your haunches in front of the fire you were building, a teasing smile pulling at the corner of your mouth.

“Tired already, old man?” you teased as you stood to your feet and walked closer.

Spreading his legs, Joel made room for you to stand between them, as he tipped his head back to study you above him. Your smile was dangerous, wild and wonderful.

“Old man, huh?” He raised an eyebrow at you, not able to resist the urge to wrap his hand around the back of your knee.

Your teeth caught on your bottom lip at his touch, and a pride swelled inside Joel. Pride at pulling a reaction from you. Before you could answer him, a boldness took a hold of him, and he wrapped an arm around your waist to pull you down into his lap.

You yelped out a giggle and your hands came down to brace yourself against his shoulder. Joel felt a feeling overcome him; one he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Happiness.

It tickled at his heart, teared at something inside, and it scared him.

“You okay?” you asked, your voice coated in concern, and Joel felt his cheeks heat up. He let out a dry chuckle, embarrassed by how easily you could read him.

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat, “I just…” he trailed off, studying your face and watching how your eyebrows pulled together in the smallest of frowns.

He shook his head again, before he leaned forward, not thinking it through as he brushed his lips over yours in a kiss. You reciprocated the kiss immediately, although maybe a little caught off guard. Joel’s arm around your waist tightened, as his other hand brushed up your side. He needed to hold you close for just a second, just to know this was real, that this feeling was real, and that you were real.

You broke away first, breathless with a giggle before you dove down again for another peck. Joel let you kiss him; let you cup his cheek and bring him closer. You shifted in his lap, your core rubbing slightly over his crotch. It could’ve been an accident, but the small gasp you let out told him it wasn’t. His arm around your waist tightened, and he had to pull away.

Wide eyes looked back at him, and Joel couldn’t help but stare at your lips. He felt like a teenager, a teenager sneaking out the house to meet a girl. To finally be with you without the secrecy – to touch you and kiss you openly.

“You’re somethin’ else, aren’t you?” he whispered.

A smile teased at your lips before you leaned in closer, your breath brushing over his ear, “You have no idea.”

Blood coursed south, and Joel felt his cock come alive behind the confinements of his jeans. It was cold enough for a man to freeze his balls off, but desire’s warmth filled him anyway.

He pulled his head away, finding your eyes blown full of lust. A smile teased at the corner of his mouth as he spoke, “Let’me teach ya to shoot before you get too excited.”

“Before I get too excited?” you laughed, and sat up properly in his lap again, “I think that might be you, old man.”

Teaching you to shoot was less of a success than Joel had intended. He’d found a couple of old glass bottles in the barn to use as target practice, but your aim was terrible, missing each shot. To your credit, it wasn’t your fault. He’d taught you how to load the gun, how to stand safely, and with his hand snaking around your body, how to hold it properly.

He could swear his intentions were good at first, he actually wanted to teach you, to make sure you knew how to shoot, and safely, but when he saw how your body shivered from his voice in your ear – he decided to play with you a little.

Maybe he whispered a couple of innuendos in your ear while he dropped his voice an octave just to see your reaction. Or maybe he pressed himself a little closer to your body, showing you how it was done like in those cliché romcoms he’d been forced to watch with Sarah.

It didn’t take long before the empty bottles, or the shot gun was forgotten, as you pressed your lips against his in a desperate kiss, your cold nose rubbing against his own.

But Joel didn’t have it in him to complain.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The sound at the door jolted Joel from his sleep. He’d almost been dragged under, laying in that limbo state between awake and asleep– not yet in dreamland, but not still among the living.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Joel sat up, letting the duvet fall into his lap and exposing his chest as the streak of yellow light coming through the ajar door cut his bedroom in two. Joel had to squint to see you properly in the doorway as he shed the last grip of sleep.

“Angel?” he questioned, as a tight grip of fear ran through him. He sat up properly now, ready to jump out of bed, his hands already searching for his shotgun resting at the foot of the bed.

With his eyes now fully adjusted to the dark, he watched how you quietly stepped inside his bedroom, closing the door as gently as you could – and the panic seemed to seize just a little. You padded to the edge of his bed, still so quiet, with your hands clasped nervously over where the hem of your sleep shirt met the bare of your thighs.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you whispered.

Joel shifted over slightly and lifted the duvet for you to slip under. An open invitation– one you were quick to accept.

“D’you have a nightmare?” Joel whispered, the wolf hour keeping his voice down.  

You shifted closer to him, your head rested on his pillow, and Joel couldn’t help himself from touching your waist gently – his fingers dancing over the soft cotton of your shirt.

“No,” you whispered back, “just couldn’t sleep.”

Joel hummed and shifted over onto his back, extending his arm for you to shift closer. It felt natural now – touching you. You felt like his, and he felt like yours. He didn’t know where it was going, but he was starting to enjoy the road to you. To get to know you more, what made you laugh, your quirks, and the way your body felt under his hands.

The weight of your head on his chest, Joel welcomed; his other hand quick to intertwine with the one you’d slung over his middle. He just wanted you close now, every chance he got.

“’Just try ‘nd get some sleep, my angel.” Joel pressed a kiss to the top of your head before he pulled back and closed his eyes. With you in his arms now, he knew he’d have no trouble falling back asleep.

“I–” you whispered.

Joel hummed; his eyes still closed.

“I kept thinking about you.”

Curiously Joel opened his eyes to find yours. You had tilted your head to look at him, you mouth slightly parted as you studied him with moony eyes. The way you looked at him stirred something inside him, a warmth pooling in the depth of his core.

“Yeah?” he questioned with a slight cock of his eyebrow, “’bout what?”

Then you got shy all of a sudden, hiding your head in his chest. “Thought about how you touched me,” you whispered.

“Touched ya how?” he prodded, gliding his hand up your arm slowly.

He knew it was wrong to play with you like this. Everything was still new, each touch unexplored and seeking. He couldn’t fuck you, even if he wanted to, and he did, badly, but Joel couldn’t risk it. Not in this world, not at this farm, it wasn’t fair to you.

Over him you held your breath as he teased your skin, eyes fluttering shut as his hand moved down the side of your body, and under the duvet.

“Like… like how you touched me in my dream,” you exhaled in a breathless voice.

Now Joel sucked in a breath, holding it in his lungs as he tried to calm himself down. He had an idea on how he’d touched you in your dream, but he couldn’t hold himself back from asking anyway.

“’nd where did I touch ya in your dream, angel.”

You squirmed against his body when his hand reached your bare thigh under the duvet, and soon your fingers locked around his wrist to guide it up over the soft skin of the inside of your thigh.

“Here,” you whispered.

A small gasp escaped you when he brushed his thumb gently over your clothed clit. Joel felt the wet warmth of you against the pad of his finger, making his cock twitch to life in his pajama pants.

“Here?” Joel whispered back, as his thumb started rubbing small circles over your clit.

“Y-yes.”

The noise you made, the noise he pulled from you from his small touch, sounded like the sweetest melody in Joel’s ear, and he wanted to hear it again. He ran his fingers through your cloth covered folds, and felt the wetness already seeped through.

Fuck.

“My angel… You’re so wet already,” he tutted, “Were you touchin’ yourself thinkin’ ‘bout me in that bed of yours?” he hummed in your ear.

A shiver ran through your body when his fingers found your clit again. Slowly, he started circling his fingers again, and the quiet moan that escaped you filled his chest with desire.

“Yes,” you breathed out, almost a whimper.

His teeth caught on his bottom lip, biting down to stave off the groan he wanted to let out at your words. He needed more of you, to feel the softness of you, to pull more of those breathy whimpers from your breath.

“Tell me, angel.”

In a bold move, Joel dipped his fingers into your panties, gliding two thick fingers through the seam of your folds, dipping into your arousal soiling your panties. His touch made you suck in a quick breath, as your eyes squeezed shut in pleasure. A proud grin spread across Joel’s face. It had been a while since he’d been with a woman, even longer since he’d been with a woman he felt something for.

He’d felt something for Tess, but that had been so complicated – it didn’t work right, they didn’t work right together as more than friends, like the puzzle pieces didn’t quite fit together. But the sex had been good, something to make them both forget for a little while.

Everything with you worked almost too easily, and Joel wanted to make you feel good, you deserved it, he thought.

“I-I,” you said breathlessly, as he worked his fingers slowly up and down from your hole to your clit, “I thought about your f-fingers.”

“Yeah, baby? Where?” He whispered in your ear before placing a kiss to the column of your neck. Joel was playing with you now, seeing how desperate he could get you before he tasted you.

“I-inside… I thought about your fingers inside me.”

Joel smiled into your neck. This felt as good a time as any to slip a finger inside you, so he did, slowly. You keened under his touch, and the sound of the small gasp you let out made Joel’s cock even harder.

“Like this baby?” he teased, pumping his finger slowly in and out of your wet warmth. He felt your hand wrap around his wrist, holding his arm, almost guiding him in his movements. He curled his finger inside you, trying to find that spongy spot inside that made you see stars.

“Y-yes, Joel–ah!”

There it was.

He liked the sound of his name falling from your lips like this, and he intended to hear it again. He couldn’t help but think about the way your cunt would squeeze around his cock, how tight you’d feel around him, as he continued to massage the spot with the pad of his finger.

“That feels good, doesn’t it?” he cooed, and placed a kiss to your cheek.

“Uh-uh,” you nodded, your eyebrows pulling together in a frown of pleasure, “Uh-uh.”

He felt your walls flutter around him, and Joel knew he had you just where he wanted you. Quickly, he pulled out his finger before slipping in a second. Your wetness dripped down his hand, coating him in your arousal with every pump of his fingers inside you.

Your breathing picked up, and small moans escaped you in time with the thrusting of his fingers. Joel had to contain himself from rubbing his bulge against your thigh, chasing any kind of relief.

This wasn’t about him, he told himself, he only wanted to make you feel good.

He knew you were close now, with just a flick of his thumb over your clit he’d have you coming on his hand – but Joel didn’t want it to be over yet. He needed to taste you, he’d thought about it as he’d jerked himself of, fantasized about how you’d taste on his tongue.

Suddenly, Joel pulled his finger out of your cunt. A strangled noise of, what Joel could only describe as disappointment, escaped your lips. It made Joel chuckle.

“Joel,” you whined, and squeezed your fingers around his wrist.

He didn’t answer, instead he sat up, a teasing smile coating his face as he shifted down the bed and pulled the duvet with him.

“Calm down, angel, be good f’me, okay?”

His hand wrapped around your calf to spread you apart for him, and he slotted between your legs. He placed a gentle kiss to your knee and let his eyes find yours where they looked back at him wide with anticipation.

“Are you gonna be good f’me?” he asked as he gave you another soft kiss, but this time to the inside of your thigh.

A breath escaped you in staccato, and you nodded, “Y-yes, Joel.”

“Good girl,” he rumbled, placing fluttering kisses up your thigh until he reached your core.

Joel didn’t want to waste any more time.

He stripped you out of your panties, and threw them to the side to get lost in the bedding. Finally, he got a good look at you, and fuck you were beautiful. Your cunt glistened with your wetness in the low white light of the moon coming through the window. Your hole pulsed when his thumb found your clit, where he pulling the hood back slightly as he teased you.

“Please,” you pleaded, your hand wrapping around his shoulder; searching for something to hold on to.

“It’s okay, angel,” he comforted you, as his finger spread your lips apart, and put you on display for him before he pinched them together. Under him you let out the smallest of whimpers as he played with you.

“I’m gonna put my mouth on you now, baby,” he told you, his finger back to circling your clit. “Gonna taste you pussy.”

His eyes flicked from your cunt to your face, searching for any indication that this wasn’t what you wanted. But Joel didn’t find any, your mouth had dropped open in the smallest of o’s, and your eyes were glazed over in lust.

“Please, Joel,” you begged, spreading your legs wider for him.

A grin spread across Joel’s face, and at last he finally closed the distance between his lips and your cunt, placing a kiss to your clit to start.

A hand found his head, as your fingers dug into his hair, which only made him smile wider. He dipped lower, flattening his tongue to taste you properly. You tasted so good, a sweet-salty taste he instantly craved more of. He licked a stripe from your clit to your hole, gathering up the arousal leaking from you, and hummed in contentment.

The fingers in his hair tightened their grip as he teased at your hole, pushing his tongue inside you a couple of times and earning himself the sweetest moans. Joel made sure to remember every twist of pleasure, and whiny moan.

He continued with a lick up the seam of your folds, which made your hips buck, chasing the swipes and zigzags of his tongue.

“That feel good, angel?” he prodded before latching onto your clit.

“Y-yes!” you gasped as he sucked and flicked his tongue.

The noises he pulled from you went straight to his hard cock. He could feel the precum leak from the tip and staining the fabric of his pajama pants. Shamelessly, he started bucking his hips against the bed.

He had to calm down, this wasn’t about him.

With a sudden move he pulled away, making a breathy whine escape you at the loss of his mouth. Joel sat up on his knees, before his hands found the back of your knees.

“Hold your legs f’me, angel,” he commanded, and pushed your legs up towards your chest. You did as he told you, and hooked your arms under your knees to put your cunt on full display for him.

“Fuck,” he breathed out, “so pretty f’me… so messy– listen.”

He ran a finger down your cunt to prove his point, a slick wet sound filling the air.

“Please, Joel,” you begged again, your voice broken with a breathless whine.

“Please what, angel?” he mocked, a spark of pride filling his chest as he watched you bite down on your lip.

“Please… make me come,” you whispered, and Joel thought he’d never heard anything sound so hot in his life.

He dove down again, consumed your cunt. His tongue lapped at your core, his finger teased your hole, pushing the pad just inside your opening; in and out, in and out. His lips found your clit again, where he flattened his tongue before drawing precise circles. Around his finger your cunt pulsed – you were close.

Joel never slowed down his tempo, determined now to make you come. He continued to lick and suck, thrusting his fingers inside you fully now as he pushed up against the spot he’d found earlier. Your breath picked up the pace, small breathy moans and whines escaping you in an increasing tempo.

“R-right there,” you heaved, your face scrunched together in pleasure. “D-don’t stop– I’m gonna c-come.”

Joel hummed against you, continuing his rhythm with his fingers and his tongue, coaxing you closer and closer to your orgasm. You started to mumble something, but Joel couldn’t hear it clearly between your heaving breaths.

He was determined now.

Curling his fingers again, your eyes snapped open, “Joel!”

Your cunt spasms around his fingers, and then you came around his fingers. Your eyes screwed shut as you moaned, as your body squirmed under him.

You looked so beautiful– you sounded so beautiful.

He continued to massage his fingers inside you, thrusting them slowly as you rode out your high. Making sure to drink in every sound, every squirm and twist of your pleasure as he watched you calm down.

When your breath had started to come back to normal, Joel pulled his fingers from your cunt. His fingers were coated in you, coated in your slick arousal and your cum. With a cheeky smile he brought his fingers to his mouth as he locked eyes with you and sucked them clean. The wide-eyed look on your face was the sweetest thing he’d seen.

“Joel,” you begged, your hand pulling him down over you.

He held himself up with a hand digging into your pillow, and he couldn’t help but smile as he looked down at you. He never wanted to forget the look on your face in this moment, never wanted to forget what you looked like glowing in a post-orgasm bliss.

Your hands cupped his cheek and pulled him down to your lips. The kiss was desperate, wet and messy, and it made Joel’s heart soar inside his chest. His cock was so hard. He could slip it inside you just for a moment, only the tip.

“Please,” you said breathlessly between kisses, “you can fuck me, Joel.”

No, not yet.

With a shake of his head, he came to his senses, “No, angel, this was just f’you.”

Your eyes widened with confusion; a slight frown pulled at your eyebrows as he pulled away. Joel bought himself some time by pulling you closer and wrapping an arm around you, careful not to press his hard cock into your ass.

“There ain’t exactly any condoms out here,” he told you, “It’s just too risky.”

It was a sorry excuse, Joel knew it, and he could tell you did too. His boner rubbing into your ass told you as much. Joel wanted to, he wanted to fuck you, but he just couldn’t, not yet anyway. Not until he knew that it was what you wanted, that he was what you wanted.

A moment went by before he heard you whisper, “You can pull out?”

Joel couldn’t hold back the smile threatening to spill across his face, “I’ve heard that one before, didn’t exactly go to plan.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, turning around in his arms to find his face.

Shit.

“Nothin’,” he shook his head. He didn’t want to think about that right now, didn’t want to feel that grief that’s never gone away, didn’t want it to tear at the happiness he felt in this moment. “It’s just somethin’ from before.”

Your interest seemed to pique at that. You turned around fully in his arms and slung your arm around his broad chest. Your eyes glittered with curiosity, “How was it? Your life before?”

Memories flashed before Joel’s eyes; days of hard work under the Austin sun, drunk laughter at the bar with his brother, pink birthday parties, and singing along to girl groups in the truck.

He held his breath for a moment before he let out a quiet sigh, “Normal, I guess.”

When he looked down at you where you rested your head on his shoulder, it seemed his brief answer had disappointed you, so he decided to elaborate, “I worked too damn much– me ‘nd my lil’ brother we uh, had a business together–”

“Contractors,” you remembered.

“Yeah,” he chuckled, “that’s right.”

“What’s his name?” you asked.

“Who’s name?” Joel frowned.

“Your brother,” you said, the ‘duh’ not spoken out loud, but your tone indicative of it either way.

“Uh, Tommy.”

“Joel and Tommy,” he could hear the smile in your voice. “What’s he like?”

Joel sucked in a breath, “A pain in my ass first of all.”

A playful slap landed on his chest and Joel couldn’t help but smile, “I’m serious.”

Interlocking his fingers with your hand on his chest, Joel opened up to you. “Tommy always wanted to be a hero. He enlisted in the army right outta high school, I was… well, it doesn’t matter– they shipped him off to Iraq a few months later and he…” Joel trailed off, his eyes fixating on a crack in the ceiling.

“What happened when he got back?” you gently asked with a squeeze of his hand.

“Turns out bein’ in the army doesn’t make you feel much like a hero,” Joel sighed, “I watched out for him, kept him outta trouble, made sure he had a steady job.”

“You’re a good brother,” you told him, but Joel felt the opposite.

“I don’t know,” Joel shook his head slightly, “Then the outbreak happens, and Tommy convinces me to join a group makin’ their way up to Boston, which I did, mostly to keep an eye on him, keep him alive. We meet Tess, join a crew ‘nd… did some things I ain’t proud of, but we were survinin’, right?”

You squeezed his hand again, urging him to continue. “Then Tommy meets Marlene. She talks him into joinin’ the Fireflies. Same mistake he made when he was eighteen– wants to save the world. ‘Course, last I heard he quit the Fireflies too. So, now he’s on his own out there.”

“And that’s how you ended up here, looking for him.” You said the words slowly, like you were contemplating each word, “and he’s still out there somewhere.”

A lump of guilt grew in Joel’s throat. Had he abandoned his brother for the safety of your arms? Let Tess die for nothing?

“Yeah,” he swallowed around his guilt, “Last contact I heard from him came from around the Cody tower– in Wyoming.”

“Cody?” you sat up, “That’s not too far from Jackson… maybe that’s where he is? I need to ask Arthur, but there’s no other settlements around here except in Jackson.”

A small glimmer of hope awakened in him, “You sure?”

“Yeah,” you nodded your head, “when spring comes you should go to Jackson with Arthur– maybe he’s there!”

Your enthusiasm was cute; the way you seemed to glow above him. “Maybe,” he hummed, noncommittedly, as he pulled you down to rest against his chest again.

A moment passed in silence before you whispered, “And this Tess… was she your wife?”

“No, she… she was my partner– but she was family.” The words strained in his throat, like they didn’t want to come out, “She’s dead… got bit.”

“I’m sorry, Joel,” you said, your voice gentle as you squeezed him tighter. “I understand… my family–” you cut yourself of, but Joel understood.

Dead.

“Arthur said I wasn’t the first person passin’ through. I’m guessing that was you?”

“Yeah,” you sighed, “I uh, my family and I, we were travelling with a group. It wasn’t very large, but I guess it was big enough to draw attention. One night, uh,” your voice started to tremble, and it broke something in Joel.

“Angel,” he whispered, his hand wrapping tighter around you, “It’s okay, you can tell me.”

“I’m sorry,” you sniffled, “it’s just really hard to talk about.”

“Don’t apologize, I know baby, I know,” Joel soothed before pressing light kisses to the top of your head.

“One night,” you cleared your throat, “We’d camped, had dinner and I… I waited for my parents to fall asleep so I could sneak into the tent of this boy that I liked, Ben. He was the only person my age in our group. I had just turned eighteen and I was in love, I guess.”

You paused, and Joel pressed another kiss to the top of your head. “We were fooling around in his tent when I heard something outside,” you continued, “Ben said I was being paranoid, that I was just afraid to get caught by my parents, but then we heard a gunshot. It was chaos, e-everything, t-they’d killed my family, Ben, e-everyone. I managed to hide behind a tree, my feet were like frozen to the ground, I-I couldn’t run. I saw each and every face of the men who murdered my family. They raided the camp, took e-everything.”

“Angel,” Joel soothed when you started crying, “You’re safe… you’re safe now.”

“I don’t know how I did it, but I managed to get away– I just ran, ran as fast as I could for as long as I could. I’ve never been so cold, or tired or hungry as when I stumbled on this farm. I don’t remember the first days, I was so sick, but Alma and Arthur took care of me– I owe them everything, they saved my life.”

You were full on crying now, and Joel tried his best to calm you. He whispered soothing words in your ear, pressed soft kisses to your skin, and held you in his arm. He let you cry, as he cursed the people who’d done this to you – cursed the world who continued to take, and take, and take.

Joel couldn’t leave you, and maybe deep down he’d know it for a long time. He’d do as you’d suggested and go with Arthur to Jackson come spring, but he was coming back for you.

He wasn’t gonna leave you.

The days came and went and collected into a tranquil rhythm of the cogs in Joel’s routine. He’d wake to the bleeding blade of the sun over the lip of the mountain, or your kisses over his heavy eyelids. After that first night together, you slept in his bed more nights than not, as his bed transformed into a room for just the two of you. A place where Joel didn’t have to think or be anything other than completely himself. A place to laugh and smile, whisper under the bright moon, and hear his name fall from your lips in breathy moans.

Your chest rose and fell in a steady beat, your eyes closed so delicately you looked like a sleeping angel. And you were, his angel. Joel never made a habit of watching you sleep, but sometimes he’d indulge himself in the peacefulness of the hour between night and dusk. By the time the room started to turn blue with the morning light, that’s when Joel missed you too much; wrapping his arms around you with just enough movement to wake you without being blamed.

He’d let you dream for a few moments longer, though. Content to lay in the silence with you before the noise of the day would pull you apart. But the moment of peace could only last for so long, the soft thumps of Alma’s steps down the stairs told Joel it was time to wake up.

Under the crinkling of the sheets, Joel’s hand found the dip in your waist. He was about to kiss you good morning when he heard Alma’s steps come closer and closer. A surge of panic coursed to his chest.

“Joel?” she knocked on his door.

“I ain’t decent yet, Alma,” Joel yelled through the door. The loud bass of his voice made you blink your eyes open, looking up at him with a curious look.

“I’m sorry Joel– I was just letting you know that Arthur isn’t feeling well today.”

Joel sighed. This was the third time in as many weeks Arthur was sick, and now Joel was in for another day alone with the work and the trees.

“Thank you, ma’am. I’ll be out in a second.”

“I’m going to get started on breakfast for you, Joel,” she answered.

When Joel had thanked Alma, and her steps had faded away, Joel indulged himself in a morning kiss. The way your lips slotted against his felt like oxygen rebounding his lungs. 

“Again?” you sighed when you broke away from the kiss, your hand found his hair to brush a curl from his face.

“’s the cold I reckon– ‘nd the work… it ain’t exactly easy on the old man.”

You hummed and cupped his chin. “Maybe I should go with you today? Help you out?” you posed.

Joel heard himself chuckle and shook his head, “That ain’t happenin’, angel.”

A gasp left your lips in mock shock, “Why?”

“’Cause the animals would miss you, and I intend on stayin’ on their good side,” he said, a smile hanging off his face.

You narrowed your eyes at him playfully, intent on making him cave, “They’ll be fine.”

Joel only laughed, “You say that ‘nd the next thing I know I got Colonel Eggsworth on my ass.”

“I don’t believe that,” now you were giggling, “Colonel Eggsworth is the nicest rooster we’ve had!”

“I ain’t takin’ any chances, angel,” Joel pecked your lips.

“Coward,” he heard you mumble under your breath as he got out of bed. It made Joel smile, and a warmth gathered around his heart.

Back in the routine, after another quick kiss, you sneakily slipped back into your room to get dressed. While Joel pulled his sweater over his head, he thought about what it meant to wake up each morning with you and feel three words rive at his heart, never having it in him to say them, to let them spill out his mouth.

Maybe saying nothing was honesty’s default. Maybe it was how he could avoid telling you all the stupid things he wanted to say. So, for now he said nothing. Said nothing at the breakfast table. Nothing when you’d helped him saddle up Ingydar. And nothing as you waved him goodbye.

After months working in the woods, Joel did his work on autopilot. He always started with a reconnaissance round, looking for which trees to chop down. Then, with the weight of the axe in his hands, he’d start his work. Now, after they’d brought the horse out, the work was somewhat easier. He still had to chop down the tree, and clean off the branches, but he could move the trunks much easier now with the horse.

The wind howled like a hound, biting at Joel’s cheeks but the sun was out, and Joel didn’t mind. He’d gotten used to the cold by now, and Arthur had taught him quickly how to layer up. The increasing number of knitted pieces of clothing you’d made him also helped.

By the time the sun was at its highest peak, Joel debated going back for lunch. He’d done so every time he was alone out here, and especially after they’d started bringing the horse. The walk back had been cut in half on horseback, maybe even more than half now that he didn’t have to wade through the snow.

Looking back, Joel almost couldn’t see Ingydar where he’d tied him to a tree. He’d gone deeper into the woods than yesterday. Maybe it wasn’t worth it today? He could eat his packed lunch and finish up a little earlier instead.

The days had gotten shorter and shorter, and the hours of daylight had shrunk in the months he and Arthur had been working. But the sun had turned, Joel felt it. It wasn’t much, maybe a half hour or so, but he felt the difference.

He ate his lunch in the company of Ingydar, feeding him some carrots he’d snagged from the basement. He was a good horse, old and tired but hard working. Joel worked until the sun dropped behind the mountain, a shadow coating the world as it grew darker and darker. He needed to get back before it got properly dark. Joel quickly gathered his things, swinging his gun over his shoulders before he was back on horseback.

The horse knew the way back by itself at this point, even in the dark, but something wasn’t right. What was that smell? Small snowflakes started to fall from the sky the closer he got to the edge of the wood, but the smell only grew stronger.

Smoke.

Thoughts tumbled in Joel’s head, small fleets on a stormy sea. With a kick to the sides of Ingydar, they picked up their pace. The muted rhythm of horse hoofs against the packed snow trail, beat along to Joel’s heart.

A cloud of smoke rose up to the sky, dancing through bright yellow and orange flames. Joel couldn’t get there fast enough, pushing Ingydar to the limit as they galloped up the trail to the house. Joel’s heart was in his throat.

What the fuck was happening?

The flames licked at the sky, devouring the house, moaning and kicking like a beast. The heat was unbearable, the light almost blinding. Ingydar neighed loudly as Joel quickly jumped down, not bothering to tie him to something or calm him down. Joel watched the house burn in total disbelief. Frozen to the ground by shock, his heart beating loudly in his ears.

You.

Where were you? You had to been able to get out somehow, right? Why was everything so quiet?

Something caught his eye then, only a few steps from the porch stairs. His feet carried him without a second thought. Arthur was clad in only his pajamas and his robe. He must’ve been forced out of bed. The snow around him was stained crimson from where the life had spilled out of him.

Joel’s first thought was that he was dead, but then Arthur’s eyes flickered open to find Joel’s. The snow creaking under Joel’s shoes must’ve pulled him from his slowed death.

“Joel?” he croaked, blood spilling from his mouth.

“Don’t try ‘nd speak.” Joel’s voice came out colder than he’d expected. This couldn’t be real. Falling to his knees, Joel worked quickly, placing Arthur’s head gently in his lap as he found the source of the bleeding.

The blood oozed from a hole in his stomach. A bullet wound, most definitely. Joel put as much pressure on it as he could manage. His mittens drank the blood greedily, saturated by red. It just kept coming, the warmth coating his fingers.

What the fuck had happened?

Under him Arthur coughed, spilling more blood down his chin, coating his white beard in red. “Listen…”

Joel shook his head. This couldn’t be happening. This was just a bad dream. If he could just open his eyes, he’d be back in bed with you. He just needed to open his eyes.

“She’s alive,” Arthur managed to say, “They took her alive. Raiders–” another cough, “Broke in. Alma dead.”

The panic in Arthur’s face was almost too much for Joel to watch. His breath was heavy, breathing through this new information as his head spun with questions. Arthur’s eyes glazed over, and Joel knew there wasn’t enough time.

“Where is she?” he hurried, his hand lightly tapping Arthur on his cheek. He just needed to stay alive a little longer.

“Woods.” Was the only word Arthur could manage, as he used the last of his strength to point south.

An awful stench mixed with the smoke, and Joel knew Arthur was gonna die. His body couldn’t control itself anymore, ridding itself of the last of pieces of life. There was nothing beautiful about it. Nothing peaceful or dignified. Not how an old man like Arthur should leave this world.

Joel grabbed Arthur’s hand, it was clammy and cold, but it was the least he could do – Arthur wasn’t gonna die alone. He tried to think of something to say, anything at all, but the words died on his tongue.

“Alma…” Arthur whispered with his last breath, and Arthur’s hand went slack in his hand.

An eerie silence fell over the farm, safe from the fire crackling and moaning. Emotions raged inside Joel, fighting to bubble to the top. Anger, confusion, guilt, grief. A loud crack could be heard, like glass shattering, and it pulled Joel from his shock. He gently laid Arthur down on the ground, before he managed to rise on unsteady feet.

A loud noise started ringing in his ears, and Joel’s breath started coming out in an uneven pace. Shit. Joel tied a fist over his chest, his body tilting forward as he tried to catch his breath over the panic tying up his throat. He took a few shuffling steps before he hurled, gall burning his tastebuds as Joel vomited on the ground.

When he’d thrown up all there was in his stomach, Joel groaned. He ripped off the bloody mittens as quickly as he could, his hands digging into the white snow to wash his mouth of the bitter taste.

Joel burned inside and outside. Standing so close to the house, the heat was unbearable. Everything was unbearable. Sarah was dead, Tess was dead, Alma was dead, and Arthur was dead.

Could he take anymore grief? Joel wondered. How much grief was a man supposed to endure in a lifetime? None of this was fair.

Had he just gone back to the house for lunch, they’d all be alive. Had he not dragged her across the country to find his stupid brother, she’d still be alive. Had he not told that soldier she was hurt, she’d still be alive.

As he stared into the raging fire, Joel felt his own anger simmer to the surface. It pushed away all the grief, and the guilt, and sharpened his senses, made him laser focused. His arms and legs moved by their own accord, tugging the shotgun from his shoulder, before he started moving in the direction Arthur had pointed.

They were gonna pay for this. They’d made his world go up in flames and struck the match on their own life in return.

As Joel vanished into the night, he left a piece of himself behind. He was going to find you. He was going to hold you and kiss you again. Nothing or no one could come in the way of that.

Nothing could come in the way of Joel.

i hope someone liked this? i'm very curious about what your thoughts for the last part will be, so if you have them please leave a comment, reply or an ask. they are always super welcomed, and they make me super happy <3 other than that thank you for reading!!

next part -> here!

© shellshocklove, 2024 i do not give any permission to repost, translate, feed to AI or redistribute any of my writing, with or without credit!

[kisses4kaia]

And if request Art and Patrick threesome during a camping trip then i’m the issue

anon!! how dare you ?!??!! unacceptable—thank u for 1.7k🫂. (fwb!patrick, fwb!art, handjob, etc. mdni.)

summer was always a haze with the three of you. spending each night in a stuffy motel as you traveled vast distances for tournaments, leisure, or whatever needed tending to, got tiring—fast.

with school out of the way, you made the most of your free hours with your two best friends. but now, after two months of back-to-back games on a multitude of continents, you were all in need of a break. and according to patrick, a forest camping trip was as good as any—sexier, too, whatever that meant.

the roadtrip was an endeavor of its own, patrick’s jeep he’d gotten for his 17th birthday 3 years ago transporting the trio of you out of the suburbs of town into the outskirted woods.

and well, you may or may not have been intentional when letting them make out with you, grope, pet, and bite the whole way to the wooded mountains outside of town. however, their greedy hands were always stopped just above the golden crest of your belt. annoyingly, you’d push them off of you and hop into the passenger seat, leaving them hard and frustrated. “c’mon,” patrick groaned your name. “what’s going on, man?” he’d beg, but you’d only shrug. “just not feeling it right now, that’s all.”

but finally, when the sky was making its daily transition from enlightened to dusk, the jeep was parked in a clearing within the forest and the back was opened up. the seats were pushed down to allow for all of your car-camping gear to be set up: a thin mattress laying down the floor, pillows, throw blankets, chargers and other necessities all strewn about the stuffy car.

and after dinner (leftover wingstop from the drive), the three of you retired to your pillows, the boys’ bodies on either side of you, legs tangled in with yours.

finding serenity in the warmth of the blankets and pillows and man-sized cuddles sandwiching you, plus the owl’s call and nearly audible twinkling of the stars in un-light-polluted night sky, you found yourself latching onto a dream of a US open trophy. but, all your hopes were cut short by a soft pair of lips sticking onto your neck, sucking on your jugular.

another mouth found its way onto your wrist, kissing up your arm til it found your shoulder, at which it then moved from the blade to your shut eyelids, finally to nipping at your earlobe. you knew that had to be patrick, him never being one to stay put in one place for long.

art was needier, kisses on your neck intensifying as his middle grinded up against your thigh, whimpers leaking through desperate nips and wet pecks. “please, can you touch me?” art whispered in your ear, and you found your hand gravitating towards his waistband. “‘course, baby.”

“thank you, thanks so much,” art muttered as he felt your hand wrap around the base of his cock, starting slow as you began to pump and then sliding up to circle your thumb around the achy weep of his tip. patrick whined, feeling slightly neglected as he indulged in the lovely sounds you were pulling from his blonde friend. you were quick to move your hand from art’s hair to patrick’s need, sliding past the confines of his sweats and boxers.

you stroked them both with equal vigor, speeding up and slowing down at the same time for both boys. you knew what you were doing, and so did they. somehow, the synchrony, the knowing that the two best friends were feeling equally as good together, everything, made it so much hotter, and that much more erotic.

the best friends locked eyes with each other, nodding with that look in their eye. there was a mutual understanding between the two mindless, whimpering, males, and all it took was an unspoken three, two, one… and they were spilling their loads into their boxers and onto your hands with obscenely loud, lost in the night moans.

pulling both your arms out of the pants of your best friends, you licked both clean before sliding under the thin fleece throw blanket barely covering half of each of the boys’s bodies. “night night.” you bid sweetly, as if you hadn’t just given the pair the strongest orgasm they’d experienced in a long time.

“yeah, night, baby.” “goodnight.”

[444ngles]

You know you want me

synopsis: some variation of either you or your partner taking an aphrodisiac. content: fem reader, gojo, nanami, toji, geto, rough sex, angry sex, taking of aphrodisiac, work sex, masturbation, dirty talk, teasing, oral, penetration, praise, degradation, hair pulling, choking, mild exhibition, slapping, all big dicks duh

Gojo

Exhausted was an understatement. As you dragged yourself through the front door, the serene silence welcomed you with open arms. 

‘Finally, some peace and quiet’ you thought, kicking your shoes aside and dropping onto the plush of your couch. 

Although…It shouldn’t have been this quiet. Where was Gojo? Your boyfriend had texted you that he was on his way home over an hour ago. What had he gotten up to? Maybe he’d taken a nap?

Feeling the urge to check, you stumbled your way to the slightly ajar bedroom door, peeping through the gap. Careful not to wake him, you hold your breath, straining to make out his form in the dusk of your room. The bedside lamp was shone, on its dimmest setting, and the curtains were drawn shut. It took longer than usual for your eyes to adjust, but when they did, you couldn’t help but wish they hadn’t

Shocked, you freeze, finally able to make out his hunched posture, one hand covering his mouth the other rapidly jerking beneath the sheets. 

Subtle groans and grunts slipped from his muffled lips, eyebrows shrewd together as he fucked into his fist. Mesmerised, you couldn’t help but watch as his toned abs flexed and relaxed, his hips thrusting upwards, even his arms seemed tense, veins pulsing against his milky skin. 

“O-oh f-fuck, yes. Yes!” Suddenly, head thrown back, Gojo pistoned into his tight grip faster and harder, so much so that the covers fell from atop of him, revealing his furiously red tip, shooting rope after rope of thick, white cum. His orgasm painted your sheets, his hand gripping his mouth so hard you could see his skin turning a painful red. 

Over and over he pumped his length, but still, even after his orgasm ended he seemed to remain impossibly hard. 

Relaxing his grip, Gojo fell slack against your headboard, hands falling to his side. His frustration was evident…something about it was arousing. Then, as if he felt your presence, he looked straight at the door, crystal-coloured eyes meeting yours. “Finally! You’re home… help me, please?” 

Never had you known Gojo to whine like he did then, sounding like a wounded puppy as he brought his hands together, begging for your assistance. Almost pitying him, you can’t help the faux pout as you climb on the bed, ruffling his soft white tufts of hair. “What’s wrong my love?”

“My dick…it hurts, so bad!” Eyes glossy, cheeks flushed, you can’t even begin to imagine how long he’d been going at it. 

“Let me kiss it better…” Lowering yourself to his lap, laying on your stomach between his thighs, you bring your plush lips to his glossy tip. From just the one kiss, Gojo shuddered, gripping the sheets at his side. Sure enough, he must have been beyond overstimulated at this point. “Does that feel good?” 

Nodding desperately, Gojo reaches to sink his fingers into your hair, softly gripping at your scalp. “M-more, please.”  Biting down harshly on his bottom lip, he braces himself for the contact, as if even the slightest touch could make him bust. 

“Yes sir…as you wish.” Kiss after kiss, his grip on your head tightened, a sign of growing arousal. Then, sticking your tongue out, you swirl it around the underside of his tip, before licking your way to his slit. 

“Nghh that’s it, don’t st-top.” With heavy breaths, Gojo’s thighs tensed and relaxed either side of your head, feeling his balls clench as you left warm stripes of saliva across every inch of his painfully hard cock. From his base, up his shaft and to his leaky tip, you left no inch untouched. Just what he needed to soothe his unbearable ache. 

Tantalising fingers wrapped around him, feeling how his cock twitched and throbbed for joy. “Needed me that bad hmm? How had you coped?” Cooing at this new and submissive side to your otherwise smart-mouthed and quick-witted boyfriend, you couldn’t resist the urge to make the most of it. 

Lips parted, you bring them to his throbbing head, sinking your head onto his length slowly, only stopping when his tip hit the back of your throat. Your hands, meanwhile, worked on his base and balls. Unable to withstand your blatant teasing any longer,his hips shot up, grip on your scalp holding you in place as he fucked himself deep into your throat. Truthfully, he’d been working on his erection for over an hour, to no avail it just wouldn’t go down. While watching you think you were dominating him was hot, he simply couldn’t wait anymore. 

Shrieking and gasping, you slap at his thigh, begging him to stop. “Sa-Satoru sto-stop!” Muffled by his cock filling your mouth, repeatedly abusing the back of your throat, he barely noticed your panic. As blood rushed to his ears, pulse so strong he thought his veins might burst, your gurgles and gags took a backseat in his mind. Gojo just needed to cum, and now. 

“ ‘M so sorry, my gorgeous g-girl…” Teeth clamped together, he muttered praise after praise, watching in utter bliss as fat tears rolled down your cheeks, sinfully glossing those dollish eyes that he loved so much. 

“I’m so close, f-fuck…” With each thrust, Gojo felt his balls clenching, tighter and tighter as your mouth sucked him in, constricting around his fat head as you gasped for air. 

When the shock wore off, you found yourself entranced by how rough he was being, so drunk on the way his cock mercilessly abused your throat, you felt your cunt begin to throb. Desperate to see your boyfriend’s fucked out expression, you looked up through glossy eyes, blown out pupils and slack jaw a testament to his pleasure. Feeling his need to release, you hollow out your cheeks, sucking his cock sinfully down your throat, making it harder to thrust in and out. 

“Mngh…that’s it, that’s it baby, so good!” Grunts heavier now, Gojo’s pace became sloppier, barely pulling out before he was back down your throat again. Struggling to take his throbbing tip, chocking and gagging around him, Gojo shuddered at the feeling of your throat tightening. “F-fuck, I’m going to c-cum.” 

Almost whiney, you can’t help but moan in return, so turned on by the sight before you, you thought you might cum too. Soon enough, his eyes were clenching shut, head rolling back and jaw dropping open, as his thighs trembled beside you. Finally, hot ropes shot down your throat, Gojo’s thrusts ceasing as he pumped you full of his cum, making you swallow every drop. Only when you tapped his thigh, clearly desperate for air, did he pull out. 

Coughing and heaving, you roll onto your back, throat soar and coarse, you could only hope you’d be able to speak tomorrow. Shutting your eyes, you fight to catch your breath, relaxing into the plush of the sheets beneath you. It’s  when you hear the rustling of a wrapper that you finally open them, looking up at Gojo. 

“Want to go again?” Cheeky smile painting his face, you can’t help but gape your mouth in shock. Sucking at the sweet he’d just popped into his mouth, he extends his hand to pass you the empty wrapper.

“You’re joking?” Sitting up right, you grab it from him.

“Nope…read it.” Nodding to imply he meant the wrapper, he watched in anticipation as you digested the cause for his untamable erection. 

“W-what…why have you just had another?”

“It was a gift. Now take those panties off.” 

Nanami 

As Nanami’s personal assistant, it was your job to photocopy, type up his notes and most importantly, make his tea. For some reason, your boss was really picky about his daily brew, almost snobbish in his criticism. “Why is it cold?” “You took the tea bag out too early!” “This tastes like dishwater…did you add sugar?” 

How hard could it be to make a simple cup of green tea, in the same simple mug? Still, he found ways to complain, forcing you to remake them over and over with no remorse. Other than this, Nanami was a fair employer, always understanding and happy to turn a mistake into a teaching moment - not when it came to his beloved beverage, however. 

Today, like any other, you were in the kitchenette, boiling the water and ripping open the paper wrapper. You hadn’t thought to question the new packaging, with the usual plain green being replaced with an almost effervescent pink. Who were you to doubt the tea change, he ordered them, it was simply your job to make it! 

“Hurry up! How long does it take to make a drink?”

 Pulling a mocking face you repeat his words in a soured voice, stirring the water into the cup more aggressively than usual. If he rejected this, you just might have lost your mind. 

Bringing it to his side, and placing it on his coaster, you sighed as he ignored you, too busy writing to even acknowledge you. “Your tea, sir.” 

Nodding, he takes it in his hands, polite pinky held in the air as he brings the mug to his lips, taking a prolonged sip. “You know what…this might be the best one you’ve made yet!?” Surprised, you might have even caught a glimpse of a smile! Something Nanami rarely offered you the pleasure of. 

“It’s probably those new tea bags you ordered! They looked quite nice.” Chatting casually, you barely noticed his confused expression. 

“Sorry, new tea bags?” 

“Yeah…the pink ones.” 

The room fell silent, if you hadn’t known better you might have tried to lighten the mood, but you knew it was best you silently returned to your desk, opposite his and did something productive. Despite his initial shock to find out his beloved tea had been replaced, he continued taking sip after another, almost buzzing for joy as the warm liquid slipped down his throat - he hadn’t tasted anything remotely close to this. The velvety feel was almost luxurious, bitter and subtly fruity, he just had to check out these teabags before he went home. 

Apprehensively, you looked from your desk to his, waiting for his next command, but for what felt like hours, he was silently working through his paper, even getting up once to make copies of his own. You only hoped you could give him tea like this again, you’d never had an easier day at work in your life. However, with an hour to go before the work day ended, the air in the office suddenly seemed to thicken, so stuffy you thought you could suffocate. At first you weren’t sure why, although it all made sense when Nanami finally called your name.

Hoarse voice croaking in his throat, you almost worried he sounded sick as he summoned you. “C-can you, bring me one of those tea bags…please?” Not only was your boss stuttering, but saying his please and thank yous? What had gotten into him. 

Nodding obediently, you scuttled to the kitchenette, grabbing what you needed and returning the side of his desk, placing the tiny package into his huge, calloused hand. Staring down at him and awaiting his next request, you can’t help when your eyes dropped down to his lap, which was turned to face you. 

Normally, you boss wasn’t one show any sign of vulnerability, or even humanity for that matter, but when you caught a glimpse of his throbbing bulge, his strange behaviour suddenly made sense. 

Rolling the pack back and forth between his fingers, Nanami brings a hand to his forehead, letting out an exasperated sigh. 

“What the fuck have you fed me?” Flipping the packet to face you, you read the bold red writing, almost too large to miss. If you hadn’t been so flustered, you would’ve pointed out that this was the first time he’d cursed in front of you. 

‘Love tea: aphrodesiac (one cup a day)’ 

You almost choke, struggling to stifle your laughter at the ridiculousness of this situation. 

“What are you laughing at?” Nanami barks, dropping his hands to his sides in defeat. Normally, his abrasive tone would’ve shut you up, but the way his cheeks flushed a delicate rose, and his eyes dejected to the floor in humiliation was honestly entertaining. 

“Where did you get these from, sir?” subtly giggling, you loose your balance slightly, leaning on the corner of his desk to keep you up right. 

“Me? This was clearly your doing. Trying to play some sick joke on me, right?” Now, more confused than ever, you can’t believe he was accusing you of this. Exaggerating your offence, you take a step back. 

“Even if I did, not much I can do to help you now.” Raising your hands either side of your head, you back away, attempting to return to your desk. 

Before you can he’s reaching for your waist, pulling you into his lap. “Where d’you think you’re going?” Firm grip holding you in place, you can’t help but squirm against him, pushing against his chest to get away. 

Realistically, this was almost a dream come true for you. As much as you found his audacity and self entitlement overbearing, there was something about the way he loosened his tie every time he relaxed in his chair, right opposite yours. Or the way he ran those veiny hands through his perfect blonde hair, biceps bulging through the shirt, fighting to contain his toned physique. God, if not for how morally wrong this power dynamic was, you would’ve begged him to fuck you long ago. 

“S-sir we can’t.” Whispering pathetically, you can’t help but feel disappointed at how small your voice sounded. If only you were strong enough to resist the urge, you were sure you could’ve broken free by now. But it was clear to the two of you that deep down, you needed this just as much as he did - shown by the way your legs subtly wrapped around his waist, pulling the two of you closer, arms draped delicately around his neck. 

“I make the rules right? I’m the boss…” Hot breath whispered against the shell of your ear, sending shivers down your spine, straight to your throbbing cunt. 

Nanami couldn’t help but notice how your skirt had ridden up your thighs, the delicate curves of your ass on display, just for him. “Wow…a thong for an office job, now I really believe you did this.” 

“If that’s what you want to believe sir…” Smirking subtly, you pull away, looking deep into his eyes, admiring his blown out pupils, clearly desperate to release his pent-up stress on you.  

“Well…I’d like to believe you want me as much as I want you…” Whispering so sensually, Nanami began to guide your hips, pushing your gushing folds against his clothed erection, whimpering as he throbbed beneath you. “And I think I’m right…”

“H-hurrry.” Almost begging, Nanami can’t help but chuckle. Considering he was the one being chemically simulated, you were certainly the one who seemed more desperate. 

“Okay baby…so impatient.” Tutting, he pushes you towards his thighs, skillfully removing his belt and undoing his pants all with one hand - honestly, you expected nothing less of him. What you weren’t expecting, was how thick his cock was, as it flopped out his boxers, it stood tall and proud, a brutal size compared to any you’d seen before. 

“Shut that pretty mouth, or I won’t know what to do with myself.” Just knowing he was as crazy for you as you for him made your walls flutter, anticipating how he’d ruin you, here in his office. “Think you can take me?”

If not for your daze, you would’ve retorted at his cockiness, but you couldn’t even deny how wet you were for him. Lifting you back atop him, you help him in moving your panties aside, arousal stringing from the fabric. “F-fuck, so pretty…” Sucking in a sharp breath, Nanami aligned his tip with your sloppy entrance, watching your expression intently as he split you open with his mean girth. 

“O-o-oh my god, N-nanami!” Gasping and clutching at his wrists, you watch where the two of you meet, a ring of arousal forming around his base as he finally bottoms out inside you. “ ‘S too much, too much.” Struggling to contain your moans, your thighs shake either side of his waist, feeling so full. 

“You can take it, darling, I’ll help you…” Trying to help you losen up, his lips crashed onto yours, slow and sensual as his tongue prodded at your bottom lip, demanding an entrance. Simultaneously, his hands reached for the buttons of your shirt, undoing the top few so that your breasts were freed, clad in mesmerising black lace. If not for the fact that you were at work, he would’ve torn all the clothes from your skin, leaving them a pile by his feet. Instead, he grazed your nipples gently through the thin fabric, grunting in satisfaction when your walls tightened around him, clearly loving the contact. 

“Think you’re ready now?” In a softer voice than usual, Nanami, rocks your hips slightly, placing soft kisses along your collarbones and down your cleavage. “Y-yes, sir…” The sensation was intoxicating, the position he held you at letting your clit rub against his pelvis. 

Amused, he raised you for your seat on his lap, an inch at a time, waiting for the ‘pop’ sound as his tip slipped out, before slamming you back down. Almost violently, he abused your messy cunt, pistoning into your tight walls and drowning in the sea of moans and whines that spewed from your lips as a result. He used you like he would a fleshlight, for now you were his personal fuck toy, and you’d be lying if you said the thought of that didn’t excite you. 

“Fffuckk Nanami…” Leaving crescent-shaped claw marks around his wrist, you struggled to contain yourself, trying your best not to scream the walls down, but with how precisely he was hitting that spongey sensitive spot you thought you wouldn’t be able to take much more. 

“T-this is what you wanted when you made that tea right?” Fucking harder into you, you could’ve sworn he was almost getting impossibly harder. “You wanted to ride my cock like this.. Isn’t that right?”

Too fucked out to respond, you simply moan louder, jaw forming little ‘o’s in the air. You wish you could protest having any involvement in the mix-up, but if anything you were grateful for the mistake. When you did find out who was responsible, you might just have to thank them. 

Soon enough the warmth in your stomach began to pool, tightening and twisting with every thrust. “N-nanami, ‘m so…close.” Hitched breaths almost prevented you from forming coherent sentences.

“Cum for me…that’s it, good girl.”

With every other thrust, Nanami’s grip on your waist tightened, holding you in a vice grip, until he felt his own orgasm begin to approach. The closer he got, the weaker his thrusts, sloppier and less targetted. “Fuck…so tight…” As your walls tightened around him when your orgasm washed over you, so did his, holding you down on his length, feeling the way the both of you shook, enjoying the best highs of your lives. 

Once he had shot you full of his cum, he lifted you up, watching the mix of his and your fluids pour out from your fluttering hole and into his lap. Too your shock, even as you had caught your breath, Nanami’s cock was still furiously hard, throbbing in anticipation. 

“Get on my desk.” Rushing to meet his command, you swept the papers to the side, making space for yourself when you finally caught sight of the neon sticky note. 

‘Enjoy, the tea should help you loosen up - Gojo ;)’ 

“Uhmm… I think you want to see this.” 

Toji 

Currently, you were being dragged to the nearest taxi stand by your boyfriend and you knew you were in trouble. 

For the first time in months, Toji had offered to take you out to dinner, something he rarely did. To spice things up, you thought you’d offer to share some whiskey before you left, something you knew he could never resist - little did he know it was laced with an aphrodisiac. The two of you often played devious pranks on each other, tonight you were getting back at him for making you walk around, stuffed with a vibrator while having a picnic with some friends. 

You couldn’t wait to watch him shift in his seat, getting more and more worked up without knowing why. Just the thought of his flushed skin, pursed lips and slightly unkempt hair as he tried to conceal his arousal made your skin crawl with anticipation. 

However, you never got the chance to unveil your evil plan, with your insightful significant other being able to figure it out way too soon. The moment you had sat at your table, he knew something was off. The way your thighs were squeezed together, the way your lips were parted and pupils blown. While it was almost way too normal for him to have a hard-on, you were usually far too self-conscious to be so blatant with your desire. He didn’t even need to ask you what had happened when he remembered you sharing the drink with him - suddenly, he remembered how much you hated whiskey. 

“You’re such a bitch, you know that? Can’t even have a nice dinner without you wanting to hop on my cock.” 

Giggly, due to your intoxication, you couldn’t even argue with him. He was so right and who could blame you? You always wondered how you were able to bag the hunk of muscle that was Toji. Everything about him was just so huge and so overwhelming, how could he expect you to resist? 

“Shut up, I swear to god.” Jaw clenched, he struggled to flag down a car, yanking you into the first one that stopped. 

The moment you were back at your apartment, Toji had you pinned to the wall, vice grip on your neck so brutal you thought you might pass out. It wasn’t until you were seeing stars that Toji loosened his grip. “Such a filthy whore…” 

Toji was always mean, but at that moment he was almost violent, but with the chemicals flowing through your brain, each touch of his calloused skin, kind or not, went straight to your throbbing cunt. Noticing this, also affected by the drink, he spun you around, pressing your face to the wall, and pulling your ass against him, slotting a knee between your plush thighs. “Was this what you wanted?” 

Nodding, shamelessly, you find yourself rubbing against his thigh seeking any form of contact. 

You can hear him scoff as he lands a sharp slap to your ass, even the fabric of your dress couldn’t protect you from the sting. “P-please…”

“Please what? Speak up slut.” Landing another spank, your back arches into the wall, shrinking away from his touch. 

“Fuck me…please.” 

Toji couldn’t deny how much he needed you too, if not for his anger, he would’ve taken you there and then, but he had to put you in your place, even a little bit. “Hmmm…not sure you deserve it, baby.” 

“Please, T-toji, I need you to fill me up, so b-bad.” At this point, you weren’t sure whether it was the whiskey or just you talking, but as his hands slipped up your dress, you could barely contain yourself. Teasingly, his fingers looped around the hips of your panties, pulling and pinging them back against your skin, leaving painful marks in their wake. “Please…please, To-ji!” Begging desperately, you reach back for his wrists, but fail when he grabs them, pinning them against your lower back.

Toji wasn’t even speaking, usually, he couldn’t help but run his filthy mouth, describing what nasty things he wanted to do to you, how he wanted to ruin you. But now, he was silent, only the occasional grunt slipping from his lips. This made you feel uneasy, unable to predict his next move like you usually could. 

The hand that wasn’t holding your wrists rubbed the flesh of your ass, soothing the pain from before. Slowly he brought his hand under the fabric of your dress, letting it ride up until only your upper half was covered. “You’re fucking soaked.” Toji hissed, looking at the pool of arousal staining your white panties. 

Clearly unable to resist his urges any longer, you listen as he undoes his zipper, slacks falling to the floor before you feel his tip prodding at your clothed entrance. Shuddering at the sensation, you try to pull your hands away, but Toji’s grip tightens. “I’m going to fuck you so deep…so hard, you’ll be so fucking sorry.” 

There he was…the Toji you knew. 

Smiling in relief, you fuck back onto his weeping tip, letting it rub against your sensitive clit. “P-please do…” 

“That’s my girl…begging to be destroyed.” Smirking, he finally pulls your panties down, just enough to be able to slip his dick in. Without any warning, he’s splitting you apart on his massive length. He knew far too well just how big he was, and just how small you were in comparison. Still, he couldn’t help but feel slightly giddy at the sight of your tight cunt struggling to stretch around him. “This is what you wanted…pretty fucking pussy.” 

Each word slipped straight past your ears and into your cunt, even as you tried to adjust to his size, your walls fluttered around him, sucking him sinfully in. If he hadn’t known better, he would’ve taken that as a sign to bottom out, but he knew you weren’t ready yet - as angry as he was, he didn’t want to hurt you. 

Once you’d adjusted, Toji pulled out, all the way, tip teasing your entrance before it pummeled back in, now in its entirety, kissing your cervix. “F-fuck, s’too m-much Toji…” Breathless, you felt a tight knot in your throat, struggling to voice just how full you felt. This alone had your eyes rolling back, each thrust feeling more euphoric. 

Toji’s grunts and curses tickled the shell of your ear as he leant into you, face beside yours, the warmth of his body against yours engulfing you. Despite his mean thrusts, bruising your the sensitive spot inside you over and over again, his presence was still soft and loving, making you want to melt into him.

Cock drunk, you found yourself focusing on how the network of veins that decorated his erection dragged against your wall, feeling him so disgracefully inside you, you couldn’t possibly think of anything else. 

Reaching for your hair, Toji pulls to get you to be face to face with him, cheek still pressed harshly against the wall. He almost cums there and then when he catches a glimpse of your fucked out face, eyes so large and glossed with tears he couldn’t resist the need to kiss you. “My…perfect…pretty…girl…” With each kiss, he muttered words of praise, the only sign of his rage being how he bullied your sopping cunt, so hard and fast that your fluids dripped onto his thighs, painting his abdomen with your arousal. 

“I-I’m clo-se.” Barely managing to catch your breath, you mutter against his lips, moans and whines being swallowed by his hungry kisses.

“Cum on my cock…show me how good I make you feel…” Grunting desperately now, you can feel how he throbbed against your walls, constricting and milking him for all he had. Toji’s mindless babbles and continued rough pace brought you closer, but it wasn’t until hand released your hand, reached down to massage your clit that you were tipped over the edge. 

Toji groans, watching how your thighs shook against him, soft moans turning into screams and cries as your orgasm washed over your gorgeous face, contorting in uncontrollable. If not for his hold on you, you were sure you would’ve dropped to the floor. His manipulation of your clit was unrelenting, thrusting into your glistening cunt just as fast, completely unwavering. 

“T-toji s-s-top!” Gasping and whimpering, the sting of overstimulation almost paralysed you, tensing beneath him with no where to escape to.

“Shut up bitch, I haven’t cum yet…” 

Geto

‘Which one, which one?’ Eyes darting from one sake bottle, to another almost identical one, you couldn’t remember which one Geto had bought for this specific dinner. 

As a celebration for the opening of Geto’s new company, he had invited a few employees over. The three of them sat in the room over, loudly laughing and chattering as you helplessly read the labels of all the drinks in your husband’s collection. “Alcoholic asshole…” You curse, taking a light sip of the one that most matched the one Geto had described, while sniffing another. 

“Who’s an alcoholic asshole?” Snapping your head to face the door, you eye the man of the hour, clad in the most enticing black slacks and waist coat, sleeves rolled up so tastefully you thought you might bite them. 

“How the fuck am I supposed to tell these apart?” You sigh, slumping in despair, surrounded by the intimidating bottles.

Chuckling, he kneels down beside you, instantly grabbing the one he’d requested without much more than a second glance. Leaning over you, the woody scent of his cologne plugs your nostrils, the ends of his ebony hair tickling your wrists. Was he always this sexy? 

Despite being married for almost three years now, you felt like you’d only just noticed how beautiful Geto was, sharp eyes so intently reading over the bottle, powerful looking grip making you squirm. “This is it…see?” Turning the label to face you, you can’t even bring yourself to read it, eyes still drawn to him, sat on his heels before you, looking so fuckable. 

What was wrong with you? 

This was so out of character you almost couldn’t believe these were your thoughts. 

Geto laughs at your seemingly embarrassed expression, assuming it was about the alcohol. “Don’t worry baby…I know it-” As he reached to grab the open bottle, still in your hand, he freezes. It doesn’t take him a second to realise what had happened. “A-are you...feeling okay?” Anxious smile painted on his face, he tries to pull the aphrodesiac sake away from you, fixing the lid before putting it away. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Feighning your innocence, you still didn’t quite understand what had shook him so much, not until you finally read the label of the bottle, as you watched him lean to put it away. “O-oh…” Suddenly your thoughts made sense, you had noticed how warm you core had suddenly felt, but attributed that to being tipsy rather than horny.

“Why do you even have this?” Shocked expression, you barely care to hear his excuse. How could he send you in here knowing this was a possibility.

Sheepishly, Geto scratches at the back of his neck, “I was saving it for our anniversary…” 

Speechless, you simply shake your head, you’d just have to put up with it, there were guests in the other room. “Come on…I don’t want them getting any weird ideas.” With a slight wobble, you leave the room, Geto following closely behind you.

As wrong as it was, Geto secretly found this rather amusing, he’d never tried anything of the sort and couldn’t wait to see the affect it had on you - even if that was at the dinner table. 

“What took so long?” Gojo, Geto’s business partner called the moment he watched the two of you walk in. 

“Someone couldn’t find the wine.” Nudging your shoulder, he places the bottle onto the table, along with the cups you had collected earlier. You can’t help but roll your eyes whilst you take your seat, directly opposite your long time friend Shoko. The four of you had been close since highschool - it was a dream for all of you to work together, so having this dinner was honestly overdue. So for this to be ruined by one cup of laced sake pissed you off to say the least. 

Even as you sat, completely untouched, you couldn’t ignore how violently your cunt throbbed. Trying to ease your pain, you pressed your thighs together, barely hearing the conversation around you as the sudden friction sent a buzz of pleasure up your spine. Only when a cup of sake was thrust into your vision, did you return to the dinner, “Are you alright my love?” 

Looking at Geto, you wanted nothing more to smack that stupid smile off his face, the mischievous glint in his eyes missed by everyone but you. “Yeah, sorry…” Reaching for the cup, your fingers graze his. An otherwise normal interaction was anything but normal to you. Just the contact made the heat between your thighs intensify, arousal practically seeping through your skin. 

Geto pursed his lips, stifling laughter as he turns back to the others at the table, faux ignorance plastered ontop of his deceitful expression. By his face, you wouldn’t have been able to predict his intentions, however, when his hands slipped onto your knee, you almost couldn’t contain yourself. Still, Geto held an unbothered exterior, conversing as if it were nothing, but to you it was everything - thoughts consumed with him. Obsessed with his scent, his pretty face, those long fingers tracing your inner thigh and that fucking suit.

“Wan’t to come with me while I smoke?” Suddenly, Shoko’s hand is rubbing on yours, eyebrows thread together in concern. You were sure to her your arousal could’ve been mistaken for sickness or upset. As much as it was probably the right idea to get some fresh (Geto-free) air, your messy cunt spoke for you.

“No thats alright, don’t worry.” Flashing a comforting smile, she nods, pulling away from the table and heading outside. 

Now it was the three of you, Gojo, if anyone, was overly alert, and you couldn’t help but worry that he would notice. The soft circles Geto traced against your skin burned rings of fire in their place, you could barely stay up right, head dizzy with desire. 

“What about you? This company was your idea anyways.” Gojo’s voice startled you, making you realise just how little you’d been paying attention. 

“Sorry, what are we talking about?” Sheepishly you look between the two of them, hoping they’d catch you up. 

“Just talking about how sereal it all is, we planned this shit since we were 16! I mean…” You were doing so well, listening intently to every word that left Gojo’s mouth. Until, your attention was drawn away when Geto’s fingers slipped between your thighs, pushing your panties aside and running a slow finger between your folds, collecting your arousal.

“I-I’m so proud of us…honestly never thought we’d finally get to this point.” Despite keeping your answer short and sweet, you can’t help the shiver that interrupts you, unable to ignore the way his finger so casually grazed your clit. 

Luckily, Shoko had returned, drawing the attention from you and back to her - you could almost cry you were so grateful. Finally, Geto bothered to look at you, head resting in his hand as he watched you, fighting your instinct to squirm under his touch. Luckily, the other two were so preoccupied that they didn’t notice the way you twitched, or Geto’s sly smirk. 

If not for your guests, you knew you would’ve lept on your husband ages ago, having to wait only made your desire grow. 

‘I’m- going-to-make-you-cum’ Geto mouthed, so clearly it couldn’t have been mistaken for anything else. 

Before you could even retort, he’d turned away from you again. As he did, his finger finally settled on your clit, rubbing perfect circles on the sensitive bud. Your hands clenched into fists, grasping at the table cloth as Geto attempted to elicit a moan from you. No way could you let that happen, you wouldn’t dare embarrass yourself infornt of your friends and your husband knew that. 

Still, his pace increased, before he replaced his finger with his thumb, instead pushing the digit into your fluttering walls. If not for the loud chatter, you were sure they would hear how wet you were. Over and over he fucked into you, so hard and fast it was a shock that no one had noticed, or how he was able to remain so calm and controlled. Desperate to let out a moan, you turned your head to the side, covering your contorted expression.

Only when the tension in your stomach grew unbearable did you reach to grab his wrist, squeezing it to try and get him to stop. You knew if he didn’t you were about to reach your orgasm, right infront of your husband and two closest friend. But, to no avail it was to late, and your high washed over you with such intensity you barely managed to remain silent, thighs squeezing shut so intensely that Geto couldn’t move even if he wanted to. Caught of guard, a little whine slips out, forcing you to cover it up with a fake coughing fit. 

“Awe are you feeling unwell?” Cooin, Geto finally turns to look at you once more.”Maybe we should call it a day, get some rest?” Looking at the guests at the table, the nodded in agreement.

“She has been…off.” Shoko sighed,  a soft smile on her lips as she got up from her seat.

As they did, Geto leaned into your ear, whispering seductively about his plans for you tonight.

“I won’t stop until you’re begging me.”

[toxicanonymity]

The Wall (stepdad drabble)

1.5k | stepdad!Joel x f!reader | stepdad au SUMMARY: This ask about being at the pool. WARNINGS: I8+ drugs, possessive!joel, sexual tension, baiting, shotgunning, dirty talk, very risky touching in public, blue balls, hair pulling, mild manhandling & degradation, use of "daddy" x2 A/N: Title is an album by Pink Floyd. Loose fit flashback before the holidays (old school SD). The latest present day is ✨It's Hard.

Joel hasn’t given in yet. So far, he’s fingered you in his office, but nothing more than that. Now both of you are going with your Mom on a work trip.  The trip is in driving distance, and Joel doesn’t realize you’re going until you show up at their house packed and ready to go that morning. He’s flustered, and overall none too pleased. You’re wearing him down. You can tell.  

You’re wearing a hoodie and short shorts. When you stop at a rest stop, your Mom goes to the bathroom and you and Joel get out of the car to stretch. You take your hoodie off, revealing a thin, low-cut tank top and no bra, then stretch with your hands behind your back. Joel tilts his head, watching you, eyes glued to your chest. 

He takes a deep breath and doesn’t even bother looking up at your face as he complains, “Havin’ fun with all this?”

“What are you talking about?” you smile. 

He scoffs. “You’re gonna be a pain in my ass all week, aren’t ya?” 

You cross your arms under your boobs, pushing them together. 

He adjusts himself and shakes his head. 

—

During your Mom’s first work event, Joel disappears. He walks off somewhere to get away from you and remove temptation. Meanwhile, there’s a group of skater guys at the hotel. Probably college students, a little younger than you. You find them in the lobby and they smell like weed. They offer you some and you tell them maybe later, but out of boredom you stick around with them and go to the hotel bar. While you’re there, they flirt with you and give you a joint. 

Joel gets back to the hotel and finds you in the bar with these guys all hitting on you. He can’t stand it. When he walks up, the scowl on his face delights you and offsets his festive Hawaiian shirt. 

“Let’s go,” he commands, nodding toward the exit. 

“Daddy,” you complain. His jaw clenches and his face blotches pink. Something comes over his eyes, and you can’t tell if the word has turned him on or just pissed him off. He steps forward and pushes through two of the guys. He grabs your arm, physically pulling you toward the exit. It makes you flutter between the legs. His grip doesn't loosen until you cross the lobby.

“What was that about?” he asks as he walks you down the hall, “Hmm?”

“What was what about?”

“You tryin’ to get gang banged, or what?” he grumbles. 

“You trying to turn me on?” you ask. “It’s working.” 

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters under his breath. 

When you’re close to the hotel room, your mom rounds the corner and you look at him to watch his face fall. 

“I’m going to the pool,” you announce, turning around to head the other direction. 

—---

It’s just after dusk and you’re in a pool chair scrolling your phone when Joel comes out. You’re wearing a bikini top and daisy dukes. You put your phone down and check him out. He’s in red swim trunks that are a little shorter than standard, and a gray shirt with a black line drawing on it. He takes off the shirt. 

“Okay, Hasselhoff,” you tease, checking out how his meaty thighs stretch the bright red shorts. “His suit was longer though.”

You pull out the joint and a lighter. 

“Hey,” he cautions nervously, looking around. “That better not be what it looks like.” 

You light it and he huffs. 

“I know you do it too,” you tell him. 

“You’re full of it,” he says. 

“Am I? You keep your stash in the drawer with my panties you stole.” 

That shuts him up. Wow, lucky guess. He’s silently flustered, and it turns you on. You take the joint with you and slip into the pool, feeling his eyes on you even as you’re turned the opposite direction. 

“Gettin’ in, Daddy?” you ask as you put your arms on the ledge and rest your chin on your hand. 

He warns, “Don’t fuckin’ call me that.” You laugh and he doubles down. “Don’t.” Sounds like you actually pissed him off. He takes his glasses off, then adjusts himself before he stands up, and it makes you tingle. You look around the deck as he gets into the pool. It’s just a few couples, and they’re wrapped up in each other. 

You’re both facing the wall of the pool with your arms on the ledge, faces turned toward each other. He’s to your left. You try to hand him the joint and he shakes his head no. 

“Worried we’ll get grounded?” you ask and he just barely smirks. “That’d be fun,” you add saucily.

“You are real fuckin’ trouble,” he murmurs, slow and loaded. It almost sounds like he’s daring you. You reach your foot over to brush the inside of his ankle, and he doesn’t scold you or pull away. 

He looks at the joint in your hand. You take a chance and bring it to his mouth. He briefly meets your eyes as he takes a puff and you can’t suppress your smile. Your eyes must have gone wide with joy. As he holds the smoke in his mouth, he looks like he's trying not to laugh, then it fades. His eyes fall to your mouth, then your bodies turn toward each other and he gets a little closer. His hand grazes your waist. You lean in, a few inches from his face. He leans ever so slightly toward you as he releases the smoke. Your mouths come closer and closer as you suck the smoke from his mouth. Your lips almost brush, and he abruptly pulls away as he finishes exhaling. “Fuck,” he mutters, then clears his throat. 

You close your eyes as you finish inhaling, and when you open them, he’s watching you, brow furrowed. It's silent for a few seconds and you hear the tiki bar closing up.  

You bring the arch of your foot back to his ankle and he lets you rub it. You're still facing each other. You come a little higher on his calf.  “If I didn’t know any better I'd think you almost kissed me,” you say. 

“No,” he chuckles. “You know better.”

“You wanted to,” you note. 

“‘Course I–” he stops himself and swallows. He lowers his voice. “--that’s not what I wanna do to ya.” 

“Yeah?” Your foot works up to his knee. 

He shakes his head. “I wanna stuff your mouth full’a cock like it should be.” 

“Mm,” you encourage.

“Shut you up for a few minutes while I fuck your face.” 

Your eyes drift to his pecs. 

“That’s not what ya want though, is it?” he asks. 

“It’s a good start,” you whisper, sliding your foot up to mid thigh. 

“You’re dyin’ to have your cunt stuffed.” 

You bite your lip and play coy. You take another drag of the joint but he declines. He palms himself under the water and your chest flutters. Your nipples get hard, and you feel yourself gushing. 

“I know how wet you are right now,” he says. 

“Feel for yourself,” you whisper. 

He reaches for your crotch but you pull back at the last second, unable to resist the opportunity to tease him. He shakes his head, plucks the joint out of your fingers and takes a short drag. He puts it down, and as he inhales the smoke in his mouth, he gets so close you can reach down and feel the thick silhouette in his shorts. When you squeeze his cock, it makes you twitch. You need him so bad. He pulls your hair, tilting your head so you’re looking up. His face hovers over yours for a moment with smoke slowly billowing out of his mouth. Then he blows it away to the side and lets go of your hair. 

“Oughta bend you over and fuck the brat outta you.” 

“Yeah,” you whisper and give his cock another squeeze against his thigh. “Maybe later?” You take your hand away and say, “I’m gonna order something to eat.” 

“Gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” he mutters. 

“I have an extra room key,” you offer as you push yourself out of the pool. It’s an empty offer, mostly. The rooms connect. Too risky. 

“No,” he shakes his head. “Fuck no.” He’s slowly palming himself under the water, and you’re glad you brought a vibrator, because as soon as you get back to your room, you have some things to think about. Like the exact size and shape of his cock under your palm. 

“s’just talk, sweetheart.” He looks at your tits as you adjust your suit. “You know I’m not really gonna fuck you, right?” he asks, still slowly rubbing himself. 

“Keep telling yourself that,” you smile, hoping it’s not true. 

-----

-----

Thank you so much for reading and engaging 🖤 Love you guys. I still have another stepdad one shot planned back in present day, too.

These are normally night walks moves, so maybe check out the original night walks if you like this. In my header.

[ghettogirly]

How would Armando react to you doing the Tim tok challenge that goes it 7pm Friday it 95 degrees.. please do this if u could

𝟕𝐏𝐌, 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐀𝐘

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

-> synopsis: you decide to do a tiktok prank on armando.

-> format: drabble.

-> theme: fluff w/ a little bit of suggestive.

-> warnings: mature language.

-> authors note: hope you enjoy!!! 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝. 🌸

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The sky grew dusk as nightfall grew over the city of Miami. Laying in your shared bed with Armando, each of you was doing your own thing. Coming back from a heated mission, all he wanted to do was to be cuddled up next to you and chill. Both wanting a peaceful night.

Well, that’s what they thought.

“¡¡Cúbreme de mierda!!” Armando screamed into his headset as his fingers frantically pressed the buttons on the ps5 controller, trying to capture the flag of the opposing team. “Todos ustedes son tan inútiles.” The male spoke as he got sniped from the opposition who was hiding in a building, placing his controller down gently before shouting out of anger.

“Babe.”

“lo siento amor.”

2 more hours went by. constant shouting and loud echos bounced off the floor at Armando paced up and down the room while stomping, shouting at the screen to his friends. “¡¡Maldita sea, revíveme!! ¿Qué estás haciendo?” Pointing at the screen , the mexican’s face was slowly turning red in anger at not only the frustration of his team’s incompetence but also the disbelief of it all.

You was used to it all. He mentioned this is how he liked to “de-stress” after missions, yet it did everything but that.

Nevertheless it was funny. He acted exactly how he did in missions , like he did in the video games. Always showing the same energy. His friends shouted back at him, not understanding Armando’s complaints or tactics, raising some of their own before they got shut down by the stubborn male.

They were always loud to the point where you could hear their voices through your man’s headset.

“¡Escúchanos Armando, tus tácticas son horribles!” His team exclaimed.

“My tactics are-“

And then the arguing started again. However, in the end they won the game. After everyone finished praising each other, Armando turned off his playstation and climbed into bed with you, kissing your forehead delicately as a way to apologise again for his outburst during his gaming sessions.

“Sorry babe.” The male whispered, kissing your cheek. Smiling at the comfort of his touch, you just turn to him. “You know i’m used to it already babe.”

Clicking his tongue, the male just turned back forward before shaking his head while slightly chuckling. Embarrassed by his own outburst as he recollects what happened 30 minutes beforehand. Reaching for the remote, Armando began to flick through the movie selection on his fire stick on the shared tv that hung on the middle of your white wall. LED lights were decorated around the tv, syncing with the background of the movie or show playing on the screen.

Scrolling through tiktok, you was bored. A collection of hair, cooking and funny videos made up a multitude of your for you page. Your eyes eventually landed on a specific video where girls pranked their boyfriend with this sound. Playing it lowly while turning on the captions, you watched the video secretly so Armando couldn’t hear.

“I’m so doing this..”

After a couple minutes, Armando finally found a tv show to watch and settled in bed. Flicking on the reality tv show called “Perfect Match” where reality influencers come on the show to find love ultimately and win money. Both enjoying trash tv, each episode you commentated and gave your thoughts. With Armando laid next to you sucked into the TV, you thought it would be the perfect time to do the prank.

Clicking the start button, the sound started playing.

You lipsynced along to the words, being a bit skeptical of how your man was going to react.

“It’s 7PM, Friday,

It’s 95 degrees.

I ain’t got no nigga,”

Slowly turning the camera slightly onto him, you saw Armando give you a death stare. Looking up at you confused. “You got a man the fuck?”

Not being able to lip-sync the rest of the sound, you burst out laughing. The video quickly coming to an end. Watching it back, you started laughing again, watching how his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Babe, it was just a prank.” Laughing while slapping his chest.

He was unfazed. Looking up at you with a nonchalant look, however, something was up in his eyes.

“Babe?”

“Te voy a mostrar que tienes un hombre.” He lowly expressed before attacking you with kisses and throwing the covers over the both of you.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[🌸] 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒:

“¡¡Cúbreme de mierda!!”: Fucking cover me!!

“Todos ustedes son tan inútiles.” : You all are so useless.

“lo siento amor.”: sorry love.

“¡¡Maldita sea, revíveme!! ¿Qué estás haciendo?” : Fucking revive me!! What are you doing??

“¡Escúchanos Armando, tus tácticas son horribles!” Listen to us Armando, your tactics are awful!

“Te voy a mostrar que tienes un hombre”: I’m going to show you that you got a man.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[🌸] 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @shurisgf @milliumizoomi @yeahnohoneybye @tyneshaaa @5tarlan7 @deadpool15 @wizewhispers @thedarkworldofhananerea @armandosbabymama @dyttomori @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @believeinthefireflies95 @sarcasticbitchsblog @amplifiedmoan

[zugmode]

this is now infinitely worse now that it’s summertime btw. she has watched three (four? idk) seasons of shameless in under a week. i leave for work at 9am, she’s watching shameless. i come back from work anywhere between 3 and 5, she’s still watching shameless. she offers me the remote (speculatively, hesitantly, as though whatever i put on can’t possibly be as good as shameless), but i know she hates high fantasy & wouldn’t want to watch game of thrones, so i refuse. rinse and repeat for most days of the week. i begin to understand why her parents wouldn’t allow her to watch tv outside of like two hours in the evening. there is no such thing as silence in this house.

i always feel bad when i use the tv in the living room to watch my obnoxious shows. but then my cousin watches six episodes of castle in a row. and i stop feeling bad, because that show is truly the most annoying, mind-numbing piece of television on planet earth.

[erwinsvow]

rafe looks even cuter when he's asleep.

you don't know how the thought has never crossed your mind up until now—it's so alarmingly obvious to you right now. you stare—a bit stalkerish, even for you—but that doesn't deter you at all. you watch his chest rise and fall with each breath, the way he's completely crazy, sleeping firm on his back with one arm on your waist and the other tucked behind his head.

maybe rafe seems even cuter just because he's escaping all the stress of his real life right now—firmly asleep with hopefully nothing but nice dreams about you. and as much as you try to avoid it, you are the primary cause of all of rafe's stress. he worries about you from dawn to dusk, even when you try to convince him there's nothing to be worried about.

it's become something of a habit for him—taking care of you, making sure you're okay, even when he's not around. and you—well, you've gotten quite reliant on it. on him. you're not positive—but you think rafe likes it.

even now, on the verge of waking him up because you can't sleep, you hope he doesn't get mad. it doesn't stop you though.

"rafe," you whisper, pushing his arm softly, and then a little harder. "rafe. rafe."

he groans, eyes still shut. the third push has him blinking, staring up at the ceiling and getting his bearings.

"what time is it?" he slurs, clearly still half-asleep. "still dark, kid, go back to bed-"

"i can't sleep," you say a little too quickly, your restlessness presenting itself quite clearly. "please. i don't know why. i'm scared."

rafe closes his eyes, but then opens again, no matter how hard it is to stay awake right now. he sits up a little, propping his back against his headboard. when he turns to look at you, he doesn't feel so tired anymore.

you look really awake, like you haven't had an ounce of rest since the two of you went to bed hours ago. fiddling with the straps of your nightgown, you look up at him the way you always do—like rafe can solve any one of your problems in a minute.

and he likes it. rafe doesn't even try and hide it anymore—he loves it and loves that about you.

"what're you scared of, huh?" he asks, voice still thick with sleep. you breath in and out, trying to figure out how to explain.

"i dunno. i just am."

"okay," rafe says quietly. he closes his eyes for a few moments and then opens again. your lips curl into a pout automatically—you feel bad for waking him up. "how can i help?"

"i don't know that either. i just want to feel close to you."

"m'right here, kid-" rafe extends an arm around you, bringing you into his chest. you curl up against him like you always do, breathing in the scent of his skin and the warmth from where his hand rubs your back. but it's still not enough.

"i want to be even closer," you murmur, feeling a little more tired but not nearly enough to actually fall asleep.

"how d'you suppose i do that, hm?" you look up at your boyfriend—cuter still with his eyes closed like this.

"can't you just.." feeling surprisingly bold—probably from how wired yet exhausted you currently are—you sneak a hand over rafe's pajama shots, pressing your hand down until-

"jesus, kid. gimme some warning, huh-"

"what? you said you're 'never too tired for that', remember?"

"well, i lied. c'mon baby, just go to bed, i'll fuck you first thing in the morning."

"hmpf," you scoff, turning around and taking much of rafe's comforter with you. you don't have to see rafe to know what's going on—he's rolling his eyes and sitting up, probably has his head in his hands for a moment.

"jesus, kid. you're gonna kill me. c'mere," rafe says, turning you back around to face him with just one hand. your body flops next to him, staring up at rafe, seeing what he'll do next.

"we don't have to do it," you finally say, watching rafe move around in the sheets for a few moments. "can't you just... put it inside?"

"sure i can. c'mon," he says, and you climb onto rafe's lap as swiftly as you can. it doesn't take much—he slides up your nightie with one hand and pulls down his shorts with the other. you feel rafe prodding at your tight hole when he grabs at your tits, letting the skirt of your sleepwear fall back down.

"you just said-" rafe cuts you off.

"still gotta wake him up, remember?" you roll your eyes but they end up rolling all the way back. rafe slides in quickly—you almost fall onto his chest at the feeling.

incredibly full, realizing this is exactly what you needed, you let yourself curl back up against him. rafe's saying something quietly to you, one of his hands firm on your ass and the other on your back, but you can't even hear him.

"thank you rafey," you murmur, interrupting him without even realizing. "this is what i needed." rafe presses a kiss to your hair and you fall asleep before you even hear him whisper back.

[thecreelhouse]

one breathes life unto the other

Paring: Steve Harrington x Reader (GN terms & pronouns, reader has breasts & a vagina)

This is part two of one sin leads to another (both also on ao3), I highly suggest reading this first so you’re not lost! Also, this is the end of this little two-part fic. MDNI!

Summary: The catastrophic destruction of Hawkins leaves Steve utterly hopeless. You refuse to give up on him, trying to find a shred of comfort to offer among tragedy.

WC: 10k+

Includes: angst, hurt/comfort, a lot of grief and survivor’s guilt, suicidal ideations, PTSD, mentions of blood and wounds, mentions of memory loss, brief appearances of other characters, friends to lovers, fuck-ton of feelings, smut— handjob, soft dom!reader, sub!steve, dirty talk, PiV sex (unprotected), nipple play, oral fixation, praise kink, etc.

A/N: I wanted this out months ago, but life happened. This one is heavier than the first, focusing on Steve’s feelings/pain post-s4 destruction, but there’s comfort smut and a realistic happy ending as promised. If it’s not your cup of tea, I understand. Please heed the warnings if you decide to read! I appreciate y’all so much<3 title is from dusk - chelsea wolfe, and dividers from @strangergraphics!

Despite only just reconnecting with your childhood best friend again, you still knew the way to Steve’s house like the back of your hand.

What you weren’t so great at navigating were the roads all torn to shreds, cracked wide open. Down the street, you can see the front of Steve’s house, with no smoke or fire in sight; you assume his was one of the lucky ones that weren’t sucked into the ground.

Rolling to a stop, feet away from a fissure in the ground, you sigh; foot on the brake, chin atop your resting hands on the wheel, you break the silence.

“Steve?”

He barely has the energy to acknowledge you, weakly humming in response. It’s hard to fight the weight tugging his eyes shut, but he somehow manages to.

“I don’t think I can get any closer to your house from here.”

You offered to drive, after all was said and done; everyone was hurting, emotionally, physically, but you knew Steve was in no shape to be behind the wheel.

“S’just a bump in the road,” he murmurs, not bothering to peer out the windows. 

“I’m not wrecking your car trying to get through this shit.”

“Drive in the grass. Who cares?” He still won’t look out the window, stare landing on you instead. “All these fucks are gonna move after tonight anyway.”

Steve’s not wrong about his neighbors, wealthy enough to quickly find homes elsewhere, you know that. Hell, his parents will probably never set foot in Hawkins again after tonight; won’t even come home to assess the damage, gather personals, just leave a mess for their son to handle.

But the damage hasn’t discriminated what paths to take; some houses are crumbled wrecks, too, falling into the mini canyons the earthquake created. If you could even call it that.

“It’s not safe—“

“I don’t even care if the car gets scratched up—“

“Even if I found a way around this shit, there’s a chance we’d fall right through the ground.”

Silence falls between the two of you, and you wonder if Steve fell asleep. Seconds of quiet feel like hours, but he eventually answers, and it’s not one you’d like to hear.

“Fuck it. Not like this was worth surviving anyway.”

Your heart sinks, and it sinks fast. Never once have you heard him so hopeless before. Not even in the past day.

“Steve, don’t say that—“

“Bet it was nice to just… be asleep during this shit.” He throws a hand out to the ruins of a nearby house, void of any faith left in existence. “Not even know the ground opened up wide under your house, die in your sleep— it- it’d be so quick, you’d never even know. You’d be stuck in a dream, forever.” 

You want to counter that with the fact his dreams— more often than not, are nightmares— but you hold your tongue.

The last 24 hours alone have changed you drastically; you can only imagine the amount of change Steve has undergone time, and time again these last several years. But this isn’t him; no past, present, future version of him would ever sound like this.

 This is a polar opposite of the Steve you’ve always known.

You blink away tears, scorching hot, while your throat threatens to close, aching as you do your best not to give into your emotions.

Don’t be a crybaby. Don’t cry, don’t cry, please don’t fucking—

“How can you say that?”

No tears, not yet, thankfully. You’re shaking, though.

“It’s true—“

“It’s not true, Steve. I- I can’t imagine how awful this all feels, how heavy this weighs on your heart every time something terrible happens, but you can’t believe that.”

“Well, I do, so deal with—“

Rage shoves sorrow into the backseat, takes control before your mind can catch up with your mouth. You slam your hand on the steering wheel.

“Don’t you dare tell me to “deal” with you feeling so hopeless like it’s… like it’s some fucking chore. I know you feel awful, you have every right to, but I’m not going to ignore the way you’re talking, either.” Resting your head on the wheel, you sniffle harshly. “Eddie is dead, an- and Max… she’s barely hanging on. I am not trying to guilt you, but goddammit, Steve, this group can’t afford to lose you, too.”

You take a deep, shaky breath, sitting up again.

“Dustin looks up to you and Eddie, you’re both practically older brothers to that kid.” Steve slinks down in his seat, almost trying to make himself small, picking away at the callouses on his fingers. “Don’t make that harder on him.”

A mirthless laugh bubbles out of his chest. “Now you’re definitely guilting me—“

“Fine! Maybe I am! A- and maybe that’s fucked up, but we all need you. We need you here.”

“Always needed, but no one ever wants me to need them.”

You’re balancing on a line between empathy and anger, a very dangerous, thin, wavering line. So, you don’t respond, you only reverse his car away from the fissures, find a safe enough spot to park it on the street, cutting the engine. 

“Get up. We’re walking.”

“What?”

You’re already out of the car, slamming the door behind you; rounding the hood, you tug his door open, hand outstretched towards him.

“Out.”

“Just leave me here.”

“I—“

A shrill static flows out of the walkie on the floor of his car, followed by a tinny voice.

“Hey… what’s the status on your house, Dingus?”

Dustin cuts in, “Robin, you’re supposed to say ‘over!’” He sighs dramatically.

The sound of the kid’s voice— somehow strong enough to still be a little shit after the traumatic night— brings tears to Steve’s worn eyes, fixated on the floor. He can’t bring himself to grab the walkie to respond, so you do.

“Uh, we have to park a few houses away, the street’s all torn up. I think his house is safe, though.” You’re quick to add, “Over”, before Dustin can scold you. While Steve rubs his glazed-over eyes, a hint of a chuckle escapes him. It gives some relief; an ounce, but it’s relief, nonetheless.

While you give the others the rundown, you watch Steve disconnect from the present, face blank and weary stare off in the distance. They agree to meet at his house, since everyone else’s are blocked off by carnage, or completely uninhabitable from the destruction.

Next step: convincing Steve that rotting away in the car isn’t an option.

“Do you want me to help you out? Or do you want to wait for Robin? Because she might drag you out.” You feel like you’re trying to bargain with a child mid-tantrum. He scoffs, crossing his arms; how fitting. “And if she doesn’t, you know damn well Dustin will. Do not make that child drag your grown ass out of this car—“

“Okay, okay, Jesus.” Cautiously, he climbs out, hands gripping the door’s frame. His stare flits to yours, only for a moment; it falls to the cracked ground. “I’m sorry. This— I can’t stop thinking— it just feels like…”

Steve trails off, unable to either find the right words, or unable to speak them into existence. You give him a moment, but he just runs his hand through his hair with a sigh.

“C’mon.” Gingerly, you wind your arm around his torso, tucking it under his arms to help him walk. It’s impossible to remember where his wounds are under his shirt and jacket, so you do your best to keep a gentle hold; he winces as your hand brushes against a raw spot. “Sorry, should I let go?”

It embarrasses him how quickly he responds, swallowing down his pain as he gasps, “Please don’t.”

“S’okay, I got you.”

What should be a five minute walk feels like an hour long trek, weaving around the fissures and splits in the ground; illuminating red, the sweltering heat radiates out, while thick smoke billows out of a few. Some neighbors are missing their cars, or parts of their house have been swallowed by the ground beneath them. You wonder how many of them were home when this happened.

You wonder how many of them are still alive.

Steve has to pause every now and then, catch his breath and assess the surroundings; one wrong step could be fatal for the two of you. 

“God, I can’t wait to sleep,” He murmurs as his house comes into full view. A sigh of relief spills out at the sight of his house completely intact— at least, from the front, it seems. “Gonna crash as soon as we get in.”

“You can’t go to bed like that, you’ve got…” You give him a once-over, grimacing, “… Upside Down gunk on you.” He snorts as you make your point. “And you have to clean your wounds.”

“Yeah, do I? Thought I’d let them get gross this time around.”

“Ha-ha. Very funny.”

The rest of the journey is uneventful, much to your relief; you get Steve inside and help him up the stairs. He begins to wander to his bedroom, but you gently redirect him, hands on his shoulders, pushing him into the bathroom. 

“Nope. You’re gross. I’m gross. I can guarantee we’re both still covered in each other’s—“

Steve groans, more out of disgust than anything.

“God, yeah, okay. Yeah.” He carelessly shrugs his jacket off onto the tile floor. Dirt, soot, and dried blood sprinkle off the leather, tainting the pristine surface. “I’ll… tomorrow.” He’s too tired to care about complete sentences right now.

Removing his shirt is another story; the fabric catches on his bandaging before he can pull it over his head. He winces, hissing in pain. 

Blood soaked through his makeshift bandaging from his wounds— which really should’ve been re-dressed by now, but there were bigger concerns at hand. Now, it’s been— and still is— seeping through the fabric, through his shirt, sticking it uncomfortably to his skin as it dried over, and over, against the gashes on his torso.

The discomfort makes his head spin, like he hadn’t paid much attention to the severity of his injuries until this moment; he reaches for the edge of the bathroom sink, breathing shakily.

“Did it— is it kinda hot in here?”

“Hm? No, I kinda think it’s a little cold— shit—“

Steve’s knees buckle, and you don’t completely catch him in time, but you attempt to anyway. Quickly, you throw your arms out behind him as he falls; you lose your balance as he stumbles back against your chest, slamming against a wall.

“Okay,” you groan, holding onto him tightly. “You need to be at the hospital, not here—“

The fear in his eyes reflects in the mirror before you, breaking your heart.

“Yeah, no, that’s not an option—“

“It’ll have to be if you’re just gonna bleed out on the floor—“

“Well maybe that’s for the best,” he grumbles, finding his footing again only to lower himself clumsily to the floor. “The room’s spinning like I have the worst hangover, I have a headache the size of Alaska, and—“ He squints up at you, frowning. “There weren’t four of you before, when did that happen?”

“Yeah, I’m calling 911–“

Steve uses the little strength left in him to grab your ankle, anchoring you in place to the floor.

“Don’t.” He forces himself to sit up, wincing with a sharp hiss. “M’fine, and there’s no reason for me to take up a bed a the hospital when someone else might need it more.”

You drop back down to the floor in front of him, “Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Sounding more wounded than pissed, Steve can’t meet your gaze; he averts his stare as he tilts his head back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling. “For once, can you stop putting others needs before your own? You mean well, I get it, but you need help, too.”

“I can’t go.”

“Give me one good reason why not.”

That’s when you notice a tear cascade down his face, then another, and another.

“I’ve never seen anyone outside of our friends deal with this shit. What if I— shit, this is so stupid—“

You take his hand in yours, embracing it with a reassuring squeeze.

“If it upsets you, it’s not stupid at all.” 

His eyes screw shut, attempting to stop the tears, but his body betrays him, only letting them flow freely.

“I can barely handle seeing any of our friends getting hurt, and I just know if I see anyone else we know, it’ll make all this shit more real. A- and I can’t see Max. I know we should visit, but—”

“Steve, it was only a few hours ago. They’re taking care of her, and probably wouldn’t allow visitors anyway, and you’re in no condition to check on others right now.”

His shoulders jump as he suppresses a sob, but it’s no use when the dam breaks. He blankets his face with his empty hand, splaying it over his spiraling expression. He shouts into his palm, voice raw from agony, “We shouldn’t be living through this shit- why the fuck are we living through this shit?!” 

Sliding closer, you keep your voice calm, even as it wavers with the threat of your own cries; somehow it’s easier to push your emotions aside to take care of Steve, though.

“We shouldn’t… and I don’t know why, but we’ve survived it this far, so we gotta keep going.”

Steve shakes his head, his cries steadying into full-blown sobs. Hand falling away from his face, you notice how swollen his eyes are already.

“I don’t want to, I don’t fucking want to!” He removes his hand from your own, glaring back at you. “I don’t want to be strong, or brave, or any of this fucking bullshit.  I just want to go to sleep, and never wake up. I want th- this shit to go away. I want to go away.”

It’s years of turmoil, torment, and trauma, all spilling over into what he believes to be a last ditch effort to end the suffering.

“Can’t help my friends—“

“You do, Steve—“

“One of them is dead!” He’s inconsolable; while it’s better to let out the emotions than bottle them up, you’re scared of the way he’s spiraling so rapidly. “One of them is dead, one is barely alive, we all got hurt one way or another— I couldn’t— I just want everyone to be safe, but I can’t even protect anyone.”

“It’s not your job, and realistically, you can’t protect everyone. No one can. We do our best to watch each other’s backs, help out where we can—“

“And you,” his bottom lip curls into a trembling pout, while his bloodshot eyes bore into your own. “You could’ve been killed, and it’s my fault you were hurt to begin with. Then those— the fucking vines, god, the more I think about it, the more I realize how insanely fucked up that was.”

“But we survived, Steve. I’m okay, I promise.”

“That shit was against our will,” voice cracking, he runs his hands through his hair, tugging with stress. “Wh- what the fuck do you mean you’re okay?!”

You scoot closer, hands softly grabbing his face on either side. 

“I’m okay, ‘cause it was with you. I wish you never went through that, never even saw what happened, but you saved me anyway.” Calmly, you reassure him you’re fine. Granted, you’re not, you’re far from fine, really, but you’re more stable than he is right now; if he won’t take care of himself tonight, you will.

His grip slips out of his hair, expression softening with your touch. 

“We’re beat up, and mentally, we’re fucked. For life, probably, just from those stupid fucking vines.” Tilting your head forward, you rest against his, sighing. Steve shudders with a small, broken noise, face twisting up with grief. His tears drip onto your cheeks while he reaches out to you. “But we’re alive, we’re home.”

He brings you closer, cautious of the physical state you’re both in. The moment he ducks his head into the crook of your neck, the cries build back up.

“I don’t want this to be home anymore.“

“I know, sweetheart,” you hold him close, choking back your own tears. 

There’s no bright side to look to, no silver lining hiding in the clouds; you have no words of comfort that’ll actually relieve his pain. Reassuring he’s not alone won’t do much here either.

What the fuck do you do? How do you convince him surviving this tragic, reoccurring, living nightmare is worth it?

Instead, you let him sob it out, whisper anything you can think of to remind him you care, his friends care, that it’s worth sticking around than disappearing forever.

 Time is lost on the both of you, and if he needed all the time in the world to cry on your shoulder, you’d let him. When he starts calming down, he begins to murmur something into your shoulder, but makes a frustrated huff.

“What’s on your mind?”

“Will you… would you mind… helping?” He nervously asks, face still squished against you shoulder, breath tickling your throat. “Helping me, I mean… with the- in the—“

Steve has put everyone first for so long, it’s as if he forgot how to ask for help for himself. You realize it’s not that he doesn’t want to ask, he doesn’t really know how. Not without feeling like a bother to others, or that his problems are minuscule to anyone else’s.

“Of course, I’d help you with anything, y’know.”

He slides back, loosening his grip with a teensy, tiny, fraction of a smirk, “Anything? You’d rob a bank with me?” 

“I’d even bury a body for you,” you joke, but cringe at yourself; the timing isn’t the best.

Read the fucking room.

Yet he allows his smile to grow, not much, but enough for it to be visible. “For me? Not with me?”

Snorting, you roll your eyes teasingly, rising to stand with your hands held out. “Can you stand?”

It takes patience, soothing encouragement, and keeping him upright to get him undressed and into the shower safely. Unfortunately, that’s not the hardest part of this process.

Steve leans against the shower wall while you strip quickly, worried to watch him collapse again. As you fiddle with the water temperature, you hear his breath hitch; you glance over your shoulder to check on him, still facing the shower head.

“What’s wrong?”

His gaze is fixated on your back, eyes wide with concern.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?”

Your brows scrunch together, turning to him as the water finally feels comfortable enough. “What are you talking about?”

Trembling hands gently spin you around by your shoulders while he examines your back.

“Shit…” He breathes, fingers gliding along your skin. “Your back is all scraped up.”

“Goddammit.” Poking your head out of the shower, you glance down to your shirt on the floor; sure enough, there’s blood stains on the back of the garment. “Is it bad?”

“The marks don’t look deep—“

“Then I’m fine.” You push past the sharp stinging in your wounds as water rolls over them. 

“Bullshit.”

“Fine, okay, yeah. Compared to you, though, I’m okay, so let’s clean you up first, alright?”

Steve’s first instinct is to argue, but one glance at the look you give, and he bites his tongue instead. Allows you to guide him under the water, murmuring for him to take his time. You brace yourself for his cries as the blood and grime washes out of the gashes on his body, but they’re nonexistent.

It hurts, it really, really fucking hurts, more than any other injuries he’s had in the past— and that’s saying a lot after everything he’s endured, yet he can’t react. His emotions feel frozen, stuck in between bottling them back up, and breaking down all over again.

“I hate that you’re quiet right now,” you suds up soap between your hands. “If you need to cry, or scream, or whatever helps, you can.”

Steve shakes his head, stare far away in some distant thoughts, exactly like earlier, while trying to coax him out of the car.

“Okay… well, you’re safe with me. You know that, right?”

“Don’t want to scare you after… all of that.” He means the outburst he had— minutes, maybe hours, who fucking knows— ago.

“After tonight, you’re the farthest thing from scary.”

The light teasing leads him back, just enough, to the present, to you; he snorts, and it brings you some relief.

“Was I scary before?”

“Oh, the scariest,” you quip, careful to keep your touch light as you massage soap onto his forearms. He groans as you sweep your fingers along his biceps, aching from exertion. His limbs feel heavy with pain and grief, but your touch is a soothing balm amidst the suffering. “Never met anyone as scary as you.”

He’s not used to this, being doted on with extra care and precision, and the bonus hint of playfulness, too— but maybe he can get used to it, as long as it’s with you.

You take your time, washing around his wounds, trying to avoid and divert any soap slipping into his wounds. It surprises you how still he stays, but you notice the way his jaw tightens when your fingers wander too close to some of the gashes. 

“You doing alright?”

“Kinda, y- yeah, nothing I can’t handle,” he mirrors your words from earlier, after the vines finally released you. 

“Can you turn around for me?”

Steve’s eyes snap wide open, “What? Why?”

Your brows knit together, “So I can clean up your back too?”

“Oh. Right.” He turns, hands planted on the shower wall for support. You continue your meticulous work of cleaning away dried blood and soot from the Upside Down off his skin. In time, he’s free of any filth that hell left behind.

Tenderly, you massage any areas far enough away from the wounds, hoping it brings some relief.  It’s relief in itself to watch his shoulders relax, while he releases a soft sigh. It goes on like this for a bit, until you get closer to Steve’s hips. That’s when he tenses up again.

“Does it hurt?”

“No,” he strains out.

You’re not buying it. “Steve, what’s wrong?”

He doesn’t answer you, rather, mutters to himself, “Christ, am I really—“ Steve forces a laugh, hair flopping forward as the water weighs it down. Sighing, he leans his head against the wall, eyes shut. “Ah, fuck.”

“What’s up?” Your hands wind around his hips, fingers brushing low against his hard-on. “Oh. Well, I guess you’re up.”

It bubbles a laugh out of him, a real one; it’s weak, but you’ll take it.

“Wow, that was—“

“Smooth, right? I know.”

He doesn’t answer, only turns slowly, hand splayed out against the tiled wall for support.

“Second time in 24 hours I’m hard when I shouldn’t be. That’s fucking embarrassing,” he mutters, shaking his head with a bashful smile. You quirk a brow at him, a smirk curling along your lips.

“Second time? When was the first?”

Steve’s eyes meet yours over his shoulder, before looking away. He murmurs, “When I found you.”

Oh. Duh.

“Why are you embarrassed? It happens. The— getting hard part, I mean. Not the whole… weird mind-controlling pollen that turned us into insatiable freaks thing, that… that doesn’t happen. Often. Ever. At all.”

The two of you hold one another’s stare for a second before bursting into a fit of laughter. He’s caught up in the brief moment of joy, he doesn’t notice you step closer, eyes pinching shut as he snorts. Not until your hand slides around his shaft, then the laughter dies abruptly; his breath hitches for a moment, then he shakily exhales.

In a languid motion, you stroke him with one hand, while the other finds his face, palm resting on his cheek. His head lolls into your touch with a whimper.

“Hey, you don’t— it’s— don’t feel like you have to do this.”

“I know I don’t. I want to.” Your thumb rolls over the head, catching a bead of pre from the slit. You laugh softly, hand sliding down to his neck while you kiss the opposite side.“Actually, what I really want is to get on my knees for you, but there’s no way I’d get back up right now.”

Steve begins to smile, but you stroke him just right, enough pressure over that prominent vein to lure out a beautiful, breathy moan.

Without disturbing his injuries, you lean as close as possible into him, head resting on his shoulder to gaze up at the pleasure written all over his face. The blush on his face has crept down his neck, spreading along his chest; you can feel the heat under his skin turning red. His eyes screw shut as he bites his lip, muffling the sweet sounds you’ve grown to love in the last 24 hours.

For a split second, Steve appears tortured in his expression, but sinks deeper into bliss. Your hand on his length slows, while the other lets go of him, concerned.

“Are you alright? Does it hurt?”

He shakes his head frantically, managing to look down at you without losing it right there. 

“N- no, it— pl- please keep going.”

 His back arches off of the wall, reminiscent of the way he writhed on the floor for you earlier. Now, though, he’s not bound by vines, nor is he in a frenzy, looking for a way to put the fire out. It’s your gentle touch turning him to putty; a drastic contrast from the way you treated one another in the Upside Down. One hand slides around your waist, holding you even closer, while the other cradles the back of your head, kissing the top and lingering there. His moans are quieted while he nuzzles into your wet hair.

 God. This man is un-fucking-real.

“When you said no one ever wants you to need them… that just isn’t true,” you mumble into his neck. “I need you, and I want you to need me, too.” You’re trying not to get emotional while giving your friend— boyfriend? whatever— a hand job, but the vulnerability won’t stop pouring out. “I’ve always wanted you. I’ve always needed you. And I’ve always wanted you to feel the same.”

Steve tucks his head against your shoulder, “Close…”

“You’re so good, Steve. So good to everyone. So good to me.” You wish you could shut up, you’re probably ruining the moment, but it’s true. It’s all true. The praise seems to spur him on, regardless; he’s thrusting into your fist and panting. “Shhh… let me take care of you, for once. I got you. Do you trust me?”

“Yeah, I- I do,” he’s whining into your skin, sucking marks along your shoulder. “I trust y- you, I  really—“ He chokes back a wavering whimper.

“Don’t be afraid to be loud with me,” you reassure him, stroking him at a steady, delicious pace. “S’okay, Stevie. I got you.”

Just as Steve finally reaches his peak, about to release some of the most sinful, beautiful moans you’ve ever heard, the front door slams shut.

“Hellooooo?”

Eyes clamped shut, he bucks wildly in your grip, whimpers building into those sounds you were oh so lucky to hear earlier. You already know from experience he is loud, and you just encouraged it, but you’re forced to mute his audible bliss, throwing your hand over his mouth.

Steve’s eyes spring open, glancing down at the hand over his mouth, trailing his gaze to you, only to nearly cross as they roll back. The vibrations from his moans shake you to your core, but never mind that. He spills over— your hand, the shower floor, his stomach, your leg— it’s all a mess, matching his demeanor. 

“Good boy,” you whisper, rewarding him with soft, slow kisses, planted along his neck, under his jaw. He shudders, your hand still guiding him through the last of his climax, but then he jolts under your touch, squirming and panting under your palm. Barely finished, another wave of pleasure rolls through him, and he’s shooting pearly, thick ropes everywhere again.

“Is that really all it takes to get you off? Just some praise and kisses?” Steve nods aggressively, eyes fluttering shut as he slumps against the wall. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

“Are you guys here?!”

His head falls back against the tile, catching his breath. “Ah, shit.”

“Yeah… um, sorry for the whole ‘be loud for me’ thing… kinda got carried away and forgot they’re coming over.” When your hand slips away, he gives a drained, yet content smirk. 

“Thought this whole time—“ He holds a finger up, trying to ease his breathing steadily. With lids still hooded, he glances over your way, smirking ever so slightly. “— You weren’t into taking control.”

“What? Why do you say that?”

“I thought it was just that pollen and the vines earlier.”

BANG!

“Christ on a fucking—“

“I hope you’re not dead in there!”

“We’re actually far from it—“ Steve slaps his palm over your mouth this time, glaring as you whine.

Well. This is horrible timing.

“We’re alive, just— just give us a minute!”

“Us?” Nancy’s tone would pair well with a pearl-clutching expression. “Are they—“

“You two are gross!” Robin chastises through the door, kicking it for emphasis. “Wasn’t once enough?!”

 Dustin gasps, “Once? Wait, are you saying—“

“I can’t believe this is happening right now,” Steve grumbles under your palm, head falling onto yours, sighing. You pull his hand off your mouth, rolling your eyes.

“Steve was bleeding out, and I was trying to— ugh—“ Frustration overwhelms you while calling out your defense; to be fair, you’re not lying, just… not telling the entire truth. “— can y’all for once, just once, not make it weird?!”

Though they don’t sound like they’re buying it, Robin, Nancy, and Dustin murmur apologies through the door before walking away.

Sighing with relief, Steve’s arm slides around your waist, reeling you in closer. Water continues to tumble down between your bodies, rinsing away evidence of his arousal. Under calmer, lighthearted conditions, you’d be happy to clean him with your—

“Hey,” Steve’s hand cradles your face, leaning in to kiss you softly; it’s quick, but reassuring, breaking you from your thoughts. “Thank you. For taking care of me, I mean.” He’s got a dazed smile on his face, one that doesn’t reach his eyes, but he’s content, just enough in this moment.

“Not sure if you’re thanking me for making sure you didn’t bleed to death, or for the handjob, but you’re welcome—“ He clasps a hand over your mouth again, eyes wide.

“Shhh!”

“Not even 24 hours ago, you were railing me with a buncha’ fucking vines—“

“Oh my god.” With a groan, he glares at you, “Please shut up—“

“And now you’re too shy to talk about a handj—“

Both hands fly up to cover your mouth, which you only giggle under them.

“You’re so lucky we’re not alone right now.” It’s cute, watching him try to take control all on his own; he’s a flustered mess without the pollen running through his system.

“Oh, please, like you’re in any state to fuck me at all.” You slip out of his grasp before he can pathetically try to silence you once more. He rolls his eyes, but again, a hint of a smirk lingers.“Lemme bandage you up before we go downstairs.”

“Hang on,” he grabs your hand, stare falling to your back again. “Gotta take care of your back, first.”

“It’s fine, really—“ Hands flying to your hips, Steve gently leads you under the water again. His forehead rests against yours, lips brushing together.

“Let me take care of you, too.” 

He sounds so broken, desperate to repair something within him by doing what he knows best— putting others before himself.

You don’t have the heart to deny him right now; with a simple nod, you allow him to dote on you, too.

“Fucked up we can’t order food right now,” Robin grumbles, digging through the kitchen cabinets. “Could really go for some comfort pizza.”

Dustin frowns, “Robin, people died.”

“Like I don’t know that— I’m trying not to think about how many people we might know that didn’t survive tonight, so let me whine about pizza, okay?!”

“Pizza would be in the freezer, not the cabinets,” Steve, fighting sleep that he needs in the worst way, counters. He’s leaning against the kitchen island, chin in hand, elbow on the table, falling asleep every so often. It’s when he begins to fall over that he wakes up, and repeats the process all over again.

“Okay, y’all just go— go be comfy somewhere, I’ll make something.” When Steve lingers while everyone else files out, you narrow your eyes. “Steve, babe, that means you too.”

“You don’t need help?”

“With what? I still know where everything is.”  You begin opening cabinets and drawers, not looking when you name the contents correctly. “Plates, silverwear, mugs on the bottom, glasses on the middle shelf, top shelf has the nice glass—“

“How the hell do you remember this?”

“— The really fancy glass is in that hutch,” you throw a thumb over your shoulder in its direction, rummaging through a drawer. “The one your mom hated us running around when we were kids.” Steve’s silence catches your attention, finally looking up. “You alright?”

He opens his mouth, ready to speak, but can’t find the words he needs. He loses them, like a dream slipping away after waking up, just dissolving the longer he thinks about it.

“Steve? Did I say something wrong?” You step closer to him as he shakes his head, running a hand over his face with a sigh. “Is it weird that I remember this stuff? I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t, you don’t,” his voice splits with despair as he gets up suddenly. “I— I need to lay down.” You don’t get a chance to comfort him as he rushes to the stairs, wincing and hissing from the deep aches and stabbing pain all over his body. 

Instead, you’re left standing alone, stumped, and a little hurt.

What did I do?

“What happened?”

Nancy’s soft voice, laced with curiosity, startles you out of your thoughts.

“Sorry,” She grimaces, but notices how tense you are. “Are you okay?”

“I… don’t know. Not really, I guess.” You still stare where Steve was moments ago. “I have no clue what’s going on. I think I upset him,” You tell her what happened, slumping into a chair nearby, sighing with defeat. “He just… froze, and left.”

Nancy seems to catch on immediately, nodding with her lips pursed. “He didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

She slides into the chair next to yours, sighing with a shake of her head.

“He’s been pretty beat up the last four years, but the damage left behind is worse than he likes to let on.” She glances down at her hands, folded in her lap, speaking carefully. “He’s still himself, but sometimes he— he has these memory lapses, and gets really frustrated with himself, even if it’s out of his control.”

You feel sick. This is a detail he shouldn’t have left out while reconnecting with you. You’d never judge him for what he can’t control, and of course one could only take so much damage before there’s heavy consequences.

“I think the trauma kicked it off, because it’d happen at times when we—“ She cringes, pausing, not wanting to cross a line, but you’re not bothered by the past they have.

“S’okay, you don’t have to tiptoe around it, Nancy.”

Offering an apologetic smile, she continues, “He’d forget things here and there, when we were dating, but it wasn’t enough for the alarms to go off, at least not for me. It changed quite a bit after Billy nearly beat him to death. We weren’t really close anymore at that point, but it was still noticeable, even from a distance.

“Some days seem to be better than others… at least that’s what Owens said. Then last summer, he was even more roughed up, and this time has to be the worse yet.”

Yet.

God, you want to vomit.

“It’s the trauma and head injuries combined,” she explains, voice wavering. “Steve’s still Steve, but sometimes he just… loses himself for a bit. It’s not so life-altering that he can’t be independent, but it’s gotta be terrifying just… forgetting your own life, even for a second. Especially while we’re still young.”

“So that’s why he left,” you realize aloud; Nancy nods solemnly. You need to check on him. “I— do you care if I go—“

“I got it under control, it’s all good.” She rushes over to the pantry, pulling out boxes of pasta— angel hair’s easy enough to make with low energy. 

“Thank you so much, Nancy.” You wipe your eyes as you head for the doorway, but she calls your name, spinning you back around.

“I’m glad you two found each other again, even if the timing is shit.” Her sincere sentiment eases any lingering tension. “He needs someone like you.”

The door to Steve’s bedroom is ajar, and he’s sitting on the edge of his bed, looking through a book.

“Steve?” You call out softly, poking your head through the door. He whips around, dropping the book, facing you with a bloodshot stare. “Shit, sorry, I just— I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

He gives one, dismal laugh, “I think you know the answer to that already.”

You step inside, gently shutting the door behind you. As you move closer, you notice he wasn’t holding a book, but a photo album; when he dropped it, some of the photographs spilled out onto the floor.

Most of the images are of you and him throughout your childhood years.

You crouch down, collecting and handing them back to him. Your eyes meet his own, soaked and swollen in sorrow.

“Why didn’t you tell me about the memory loss?” It’s not out of anger, or hurt, it’s out of concern, if anything at all. 

“Would you believe me if I said I forgot?” He chuckles, but again, it’s lifeless. “I wanted to say something, but I kept pushing it off, and really did just… forget.”

Shuffling next to him on the bed, you wind your arms around him as he continues.

“When you brought up that old memory, it scared me that I couldn’t remember. The photos help, and shit eventually comes back to me, but those moments where everything dissolves away is—“ He chokes up, “It’s fucking terrifying.”

Steve rests against you, head on your shoulder as his arms lock around you, like you too, would dissolve at any moment.

“I scared you enough earlier, didn’t wanna do it again.”

“It scares me for you, but really, I could never be afraid of you. This is out of your control.” You kiss the top of his head, fingers running through his hair, gently scraping along his scalp in soothing, slow repetitions. “But you can’t get rid of me that easy, Harrington.”

The two of you sit in a comfortable silence, holding onto one another for dear life.

After managing to stomach some food and water— all five of you weren’t hungry in the slightest, but needed something in your systems before sleeping— you finally get Steve alone again, cozying up to one another in his bed. Clothes strewn around the room, you burrow under the covers, tangling around one another without fabric barriers— aside from bandaging, wanting to feel as close as possible.

You figured the two of you were both far too exhausted and depressed to fool around, but he’s determined to try and return the favor; you’ve tried telling him there’s nothing to return, you were happy to distract him, make him feel good, even for a little bit, but he wouldn’t have it.

“As much as I want this right now, we both really need sleep.”

“Please? I jus’wanna be good for you,” He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, sporadically leaving kisses on your skin. “Please…”

It pains you to say no, but you shake your head anyway. “Steve, you were ripped apart earlier, a- and flung around like a damn rag doll. I need more than anything for you to rest, okay?”

Silence hangs heavy above the both of you, buried beneath the sheets of his bed. Steve’s the first to shatter the quiet, barely above a whisper:

“What if you leave? What if I go to sleep and wake up and you’re gone?”

You lean up on your arm, trying to get a better look at him, but it’s too dark to make out his expression.

“Why would I leave?”

“Everyone always leaves.” He shudders a breath, adding, “You did.”

“Whoa, wait…” You’re baffled. “Steve, you left me behind. You walked away from our friendship for some—“

“Earlier, I mean. When you ran off. You just… left.”

“Because you were saying awful shit to me—“

“‘Cause you didn’t need to get tangled up in this mess!”

“It’s too fuckin’ late to argue that, Steve. It’s said and done— why the hell are you upset over this now? I don’t get—“

“I could’ve lost you!” His voice breaks into a pitchy rasp, trembling against you. “All of this has been so… so… confusing. Do you know how relieved I was to see you come through that gate, but how badly it pissed me off you’d even put yourself in danger to begin with?!”

“We talked about this—“ The sheet covering your naked form falls as you abruptly sit up, scoffing. “I was scared, and you never even asked what I was afraid of. Did it ever cross your mind I was scared to lose you?”

Steve shakes his head with a mirthless, forced laugh. “You said you were scared because everyone left—“

“And you never let me finish that thought, ‘cause you were too focused on being some… some know-it-all dickhead.”

“Yeah, yeah that’s real mature,” He sits up, close to you, but it’s still too dark to make out the details of his expression, whatever that may be right now. “Did it ever cross your mind that I never wanted you to see that place? That maybe I never wanted you to experience a hell like that? That— this— all of this has ruined my life. I’d never want you to feel what I feel— or what I don’t feel sometimes.”

“I’d follow you into hell, any form of it, if it meant helping you stay alive.” You say it so calmly, like it’s a no-brainer, and it is. 

To Steve, it’s just another display of your well-intentioned naivety. He grabs you by the shoulders, hands shaking through his grip.

“What don’t you understand?” His voice cracks, weakened by exhaustion and hopelessness. “Why would I want you to do that? I want you safe. Not down there with me. I wanted to you stay here. Stay safe.”

“Well, sometimes, when you care about someone, you do stupid shit for them—“

“No, no way, you don’t get to use that as an excuse,” He flatly laughs. “You don’t see me pulling stupid shit ‘cause I love you.”

Your ears ring, nearly drowning him out as he begins to nervously ramble.

He what?

“A- and look, I get— I’m sorry. I really am. I know we said earlier we’d leave that shit behind, but I need you to know it was out of—“ He pauses, catching himself before letting the word slip again. “It was never a mistake fixing our friendship. Not for me, at least, but you’ve always deserved better. Fuck—“ His hands leave you to press the heels of his palms into his eyes as he sighs; that much you can tell from the sliver of moonlight creeping in through the window. “I never wanted you down there ‘cause you deserve better. You always have. If anyone deserves to live a normal life, it’s you.”

“Oh, fuck normal, Steve.” Pulling his hands away from his face, you lace your fingers between his. “When has normal ever been my thing? I don’t care how much it pisses you off— I love you enough to follow you into hell, and did.” 

This is the version of you he knew all those years ago, before leaving you behind for a chance of a higher status that never would matter in the real world. A version so unapologetic your own skin, to defend what and who your heart embraces the most.

You’re climbing onto his lap, swinging a leg over to straddle him, and all he can do is watch you with a perfect balance of hearts and stars in his eyes.

 One hand leaves his to cradle his face, skin tingling as he turns his head, kissing your palm. “I’m sorry I caused so much trouble, with the— y’know—“ Talking about the vines is a little difficult without the intoxication of that sinful, stupid, demonic plant you found. “But I’m not sorry for loving you.”

Steve’s struggling to find the right words, eyes searching your own for any doubts, any signs to keep his guard up; all he can find is the sincerity you’ve always shown him, but it’s deeper now, rooted in love. 

His hand reaches to the back of your neck, fingers splaying out and up to clumsily pull you towards him. You gasp once his lips meet yours, matching the hunger he kisses you with. It’s passionate, but slow, at first; in mere moments, he’s pressing his free hand to your back, pushing you even closer into him, whimpering into the lip lock.

Bucking up against you, his bare length glides along your slick heat; you’re caught off guard, completely forgetting the two of you never bothered to get dressed before bed.

“Shit—“ You throw your head back and grip tightly onto Steve’s shoulder. He hisses in pain, pulling you from the haze you’d began to lose yourself in. You immediately release your hold, realizing he was bruised badly. “Fuck, Steve, I’m sorry.”

“S’okay, I kinda— I forgot the vines did that,” He rests his head back against the headboard, wincing as the burning ache lingers. “You were right, we should just go to sleep. Neither of us are in the best shape right now, and—”

“What if I do all the work?” Your offer catches his attention as you run a hand through his hair. “I’ll be gentle, I promise, and you wouldn’t have to do a damn thing, ‘cept take it like a good boy.”

Steve shudders, cock kicking underneath you, still nestled between your folds. He wants it. Wants it bad. Real fucking bad. But, ever the gentleman that he is, there’s still concern over your current state.

“Yeah, but you’re not… you’re pretty beat up, too.” He swallows a gasp, hips twitching as he holds himself still. “Don’t wanna hurt you just to make me feel good.”

You shrug, like the pain’s not a big deal, and really? It’s not, not one bit. All you feel is love and heartache all at once, and you both need a distraction, to channel out the energy built up in that confession.

“I’ll let y’know if it’s too much,” You kiss his forehead, leisurely making your way down to his lips, only ghosting yours over his own. “But I’m gonna be so real with you, Steve—“ When you shift your hips, sliding tauntingly slow along his length, he whimpers, biting his lip to muffle what would’ve been a beautiful sound. “Can’t stop thinking about fucking you since yesterday.”

“Oh, fuck…”

“Shh, gotta be quiet for me, honey.”

It’s a surreal sight, having Steve writhe underneath you with overwhelming desire, whimpering again with his eyes rolling back as you call him honey.

That’s when it clicks; all Steve’s ever wanted is someone who can be as soft with him as he is with them. He just wants to be seen as precious and important as he sees you— wants to feel as treasured as he tries to make you feel.

And god, Steve Harrington is the most precious, important soul in your life. He’s so treasured, every fiber of his being— everything, even the stubborn, bitchy moods— you love all of him. Always has been near and dear to your heart, and always will be.

“Do- don’t think I can,” He pants, desperately trying to keep his voice at a whisper as the head of his cock catches at your entrances. Bucking up into you, he’s rushing out, “Just need t’be inside you. S’all I want, all I need— I- I need you so bad, angel.”

“I know, Stevie,” You grind down onto his cock, biting your lip to mute your own pleased sounds. “It’s all I want, too.”

His arms wind around you, reminiscent of the vines in their selfish urgency, but otherwise, his embrace is filled with a tender adoration.

Eyes flicking down to where your bodies meet, you glance back up at Steve, and oh, what a fucking wreck he is already; stare hooded with lust, mouth parted as he pants, the anticipation of your next move has him on edge, to say the least.

You search his expression for a final grant of consent, and he offers it in the form of a frantic nod, whimpering, “Mhm.”

The stretch as you slowly impale yourself onto him will take time getting used to; it was easier under the spell of some fucked up aphrodisiac, but completely tuned into reality has you taking it slow.

“Fuck. Fuck— Were you this—“ A moan attempts to leave him, until he strangles it into a grasp while you sink further onto him. “T- this fucking tight yesterday?”

Jaw falling open, you keep the cry of bliss to yourself, fully sheathing him while your breaths fall shallow. “M’sorry, I— give me a—“ Steve surges forward to kiss you, hoping it calms at least one of you. 

He breaks the connection, just barely, to whisper against your lips, “I know, s’okay—“ The way you scrunch your eyes shut catches his attention, drags him out of the fog of lust, just for a moment. “Hey, hey, look at me,” Gently, he holds your face. “If it hurts we- we can stop.”

Your gaze is glassy as you open your eyes, shaking your head as your body trembles.

“I- I don’t know how to— it’s like you’re—“ You take a deep breath, then another, for good measure. “Yesterday was… intense, but you… you’re here, we’re both here.”

Steve’s puzzled. “Well, yeah, f’course we are—“

“I thought— shit, m’sorry, I was trying so hard to— I didn’t want to fuckin’ cry.” You mirthlessly laugh at yourself; the action flutters your walls around him, but again, for your sake, he finds the strength to ignore it, pushes back a throaty groan. “S’like… knowing we’re somehow still alive makes it I- I sound insane—“

“Not even close, honey.”

“I feel— you feel closer, somehow. I- I- don’t know how to describe it, but I feel you everywhere, and now that I know y’feel the same, it’s— you—“

“Shhhh, sweetheart, just breathe for me,” You take a deep breath, inhaling rapidly and constricting around him; with a sharp gasp, his cock throbs inside of you. “Okay, not— fuck— not like that, or I’m gonna lose it.”

The lapse of restraint gives you a step up, helps you regain control over your emotions. With a few more slow breaths, you settle down, anchor yourself into the present.

“Are you okay?” You manage to ask, and Steve, in need of rest more than anything, smiles dopily at you.

“M’good, you?” He grabs your hips, lazily guiding you back and forth on him. 

“Uh-huh.” When you discover a rhythm gratifying enough for you both, he moans out, too tired to react in time to quiet down. “Steve.”

“Can’t help it,” He leans into your neck, kissing and failing to keep his mouth busy. “Not with a pussy like this.”

Flexing his hips into you, there’s nothing you can do in time to cover the quick yelp you make,“A— ah! Oh my god…” 

Steve tries his hardest to hold back his needy sounds, but has to bite down onto your shoulder to muffle the noise somehow. 

You rush out in a whisper, “Oh, fuck, Steve! Shit…” Riding him with a steady pace, you pant, “Wish I had something to gag you with.”

“M’sorry, m’so sorry,” He whispers frantically as you bounce on his cock. While you keep a gentle hold on his face, he parts his lips, turning his head towards your thumb, inches from his mouth. A brilliant idea crosses his mind, “Shit… use those.”

“Use… what?” He manages to flit his tongue out to the pad of your thumb, whimpering some more as his taste buds hit your skin. “Oh. You want this?” You bring your hand closer, and happily, greedily, he sucks your thumb in, tongue lapping around your digit.

“More,” He mumbles around your thumb. “Please… more.”

How could you deny his simple, yet sweet, request?

Sliding your thumb out, you replace it quickly with your pointer and middle fingers; selfishly, Steve takes in your ring finger, too, sucking sloppily on all three. With his mouth stuffed, just enough, he begins to drool a little at the corners of his mouth, while gazing up at you so lovingly.

“You’re fucking perfect, Steve.” You praise him, grinding down into his lap. He twitches, desperate to fuck up into you, but holds his composure. “So good for me, so, so good… this feel okay?”

Tears prick his lash line as he nods wildly, still gagging himself on your fingers as you fuck him.

“Here I was, trying to make love to you, but you still need it to be filthy, huh?”

“Mhm,” is all he can manage to reply with, but nearly loses it when you remove your fingers. “N- no, wait—“ The noise of protest dies on his lips as your hand curls around the back of his head, guiding him toward your chest.

“Would this help?”

“So fuckin’ much— mnph!” You push his face into your chest the moment he latches onto your nipple. He laps and sucks with abandon, drooling all over your breast as you lift and fall over his length.

You push his hair away from his eyes, running your fingers through it softly a few times. A rosy blush dusts over his cheeks, watching you watch him; he’s a bit embarrassed by how turned on he is just from this alone, but that’s clearly not stopping him.

“You’re so pretty like this, Stevie.”

Against your fluttering walls, he pulsates over your sweet words. He paws at your chest, toying with your neglected nipple, still swirling his tongue around the other.

“Can’t wait ‘til we’re alone so I can hear all those pretty moans you make,” You murmur to him, feeling him twitch inside you again. He’s whimpering again, stifled by his oral fixation. “I wanna take care of you, all of the time… would y’let me?”

He nods feverishly, teeth grazing along your nipple, earning a pitchy gasp from you. Lips glistening as he pulls back, a thread of spit still keeps him leashed to your skin.

“You’ll let me do the same, ye- yeah?” Steve asks, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth to quiet a groan; you lean back, arching yourself into him and finding a delicious angle for you both while you still ride him. “Jesus… you’re unreal.”

“Mhm… just gotta…” You trail off, biting down on your fist as a squeal threatens to form. “Gotta heal up for me first, okay?”

Steve shoves your hand away, holding your face again; he whispers his promises of healing, ones he plans on keeping. As he babbles on, drunk off the shared bliss while you meld together, he begins to get emotional. “I promise, yeah, I really do, I mean it, m’gonna get better, gonna be okay,” He whispers, kissing up your neck, avoiding any heavy bruising from the vines left behind. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

“Sorry? For what, Steve? Nothing’s wrong—“

“I fucked up, saying I didn’t wanna be here anymore. It’s so… fuck, it’s so hard sometimes to find reasons to stay.”

Your thrusts begin slowing to a stop, “Don’t ever apologize for telling me how hurt you are. I want you safe, and happy, but if you need to get it out, you get it out—“

“Yeah, but I shouldn’t—“ Steve attempts to guide you back into your steady pace, needing the physical connection to steady his train of thought. “I really wasn’t thinking—“

“I love you, and I mean that.” You’re as careful as can be, but wrap your arms around him, leading him to rest against your shoulder as you start grinding on him again. “This has to be hell… to relive over and over…” He can’t help it, bucks up into you, taking your breath away. 

“Y’got every right to want the pain to end,” He’s going to leave aching bruises behind with the grip he’s got on your hips, fingers digging into your curves. “B- but it can’t end like that.”

What an emotional rollercoaster to ride while fucking.

“It won’t, I swear,” Voice wavering, he lifts his head. His eyes, filled with endless emotion, meet yours; pain, adoration, fear, passion— it’s all on display in his bloodshot, spent, tear-lined gaze. Resting his forehead on yours, he whispers, “Never, ever.”

“Good, ‘cause I- I— o— oh— kay—“ Steve finds your clit with ease, toying with it slowly. “If I c- can’t disappear, you can’t either— christ, Steve, don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, honey.” Your thighs tense up, squeezing around his body. His hips jerk up, slamming himself into you, so he plants his feet on the bed, intentionally fucking up into you. “Shit, you’re close, huh?”

You barely nod as your jaw slacks, body trembling as pleasure hits you all at once. Steve kisses you, just in time to muffle your cries of bliss. Your high racks through you in convulsing waves, coaxing him to the edge of his own climax.

He practically swallows your moans and mumbles against your lips, “M’gonna— I’m— honey, please—“

“Let go, Stevie,” You manage to tell him through pathetic whimpering. “I got you, a- always.”

Returning the favor, you smash your lips against his, muting his symphony of ecstasy, much to your disappointment. He forces gravelly groans down your throat while he sloppily runs his tongue over yours, sucking softly on it. With a borderline violent grip, he pins you closer to him, as close as physically possible, spilling over into you. Your aftershocks are enough to milk his cock for everything he’s got; he better sleep well tonight after this.

You’re so lost in the moment, drunk on passion, it takes a moment to realize he’s babbling something between kisses and winded breaths.

“Don’t let me go.”

Shaking your head, your nose brushes against his, feeling the dam of your emotions finally crumble. Your tears mix with his, holding him with great care.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, honey.”

Sleep breaks itself apart for you both; if one of you has a nightmare, the other stays awake to provide comfort. Steve’s taken more painkillers than his stomach lining can handle, and still continues to toss and turn from the deeply embedded ache in his bones. You have a harder time falling back asleep than he does— after all, it’s not his first rodeo.

Maybe, at most, you gain an hour or two of continuous rest, but daylight breaks far sooner than either of you would prefer it to.

It’s a little bizarre, hearing birds chirp outside among the never-ending sirens that have droned on through the night; the early morning skies paint the world outside his window in soothing hues of orange and pink.

You don’t dare to look longer, fearing the billowing smoke will break the little bit of illusion left that things are alright. If you avoid peering through certain windows in his house, you can’t see the bleak reality; you stay put, shielding yourself from the truth, just a little longer.

“Hey, Steve?” You’re draped over him from behind, cautious of where you rest your body onto his. You’re quickly learning you like any position where you’re wrapped up in one another, but being the big spoon for him might be your favorite yet.

“Hm?” His voice is gravelly, and you wonder if it’s always like this in the morning, or if it’s just free of charge with the suffering he’s endured all night.

It’s a naive question to ask, but you still want to know how he feels; after all, he is the seasoned veteran out of the two of you. “Do you think the world’s really ending?”

He exhales roughly through his lips pressed together, falling into a pause. “… I don’t know, honestly. It’s, uh, pretty scary, huh?”

Burying your face into his neck, you shrug. “Yeah… but it’s not as scary as it’d be going it alone.”

Squeezing your hands, holding them close to his chest while carefully pulling you closer against him, he sighs. His lips meet the backs of your hands, warmth lingering as he keeps them close.

“I take back what I said last night.” He whispers into your skin, “M’really fuckin’ glad we made it home alive.”

“Even if home’s hell right now?”

“Yeah,” Rolling over, Steve’s hand embraces your jaw, resting softly on your neck. He traces your bottom lip with his thumb, stunning hazel stare holding your own; it’s still bloodshot, but there’s now faint traces of rest, at least. “‘Cause it’s still home with you.”

[ariseur]

hii!!! can you do “their attitude immediately uplifts when you’re around” with megumi please?? congrats on 500!!

✧˖° - saved this one from the 500 event even if it’s been a few months, fic quality is crap lately because of lack of motivation .. sorry in advance (◞‸◟)

gritting his teeth, megumi doesn’t even spare his mentor a glance once he hears a teasing, “what’s with the attitude, ‘gumi?” from behind him. instead, he stuffs his hands in the pockets of his uniform, warm from the fact that he keeps fidgeting with his hands in and out of his pockets. he’ll take them out, mess with his fingers, shove them back in, and the cycle ensues.

“don’t call me that.”

“fushiguro’s just mad his partner hasn’t texted him in the last hour,” nobara yawns before lolling her head to the sky, savoring the view of dusk. her lip quivers as she holds in a laugh, struggling to pretend she doesn’t feel the way megumi turns around only to pointedly glare at her.

“ah, so that’s what it is?” he jolts at the hand on his shoulder with gojo’s ever growing coos. a brash hand ruffles his hair and he shrugs it off harshly, maneuvering out of the way so that he was safe from the assault; the edge of the sidewalk his sanctuary.

“she’s at the school, though?” yuuji replies guilelessly. . . even though the only response he gets is a sharp flick to the side of his head.

“i know that, stupid — we’ve just been on this mission for days,” megumi says, facing forward as yuuji rubs the spot of his head with a soft pout.

“ah, young love,” gojo sighs. “can’t even live without each other.”

“shut up.”

nobara huffs, “you know, you were the one scolding them for going on that mission a month ago?” she stretches and puts a hand on her hip as a blur of pink hair nods in agreement.

megumi doesn’t say anything to that. maybe because everything’s just pissing him off — his friends, gojo, the sun that-no-matter-how-much-he-thinks-of-how-beautiful-you’d-think-it’d-look-is still so blinding that he has the urge to take his hands out of his pockets once more. sweat forms on his furrowed brow as he closes his eyes to drown out the soft teasing and mindless chatter carried by those two idiots. oh, sorry — scratch that, three idiots.

but when his eyes scrunch shut, all he can think of is you. your face, burned into the haven on his eyes, is the only thing that appears, except for the other obscure, floating shapes that drift around the darkness. but behind all those weird. . . blobs, he can make out your eyes; crinkled at the corners with your smile. your stupid, stupid smile.

megumi opens his eyes again. he can’t even escape you with his eyes closed. fingers fiddling with the loose seams in his pocket, he ignores the way his palms get sweaty even when he tries to pretend he doesn’t care.

“. . . and i heard the food here’s okay.”

reverie soon broken by yuuji’s voice growing back to normal volume, megumi’s eyes finally flicker in their direction. nobara making a face at the reviews of the place he’s talking about online, itadori walking backwards while he faces gojo; the slick bastard, who already knows how megumi’s looking at him, turning his head ever so slightly.

even if he has a blindfold, megumi clenches his jaw at the fact that he can tell he’s looking at him.

so he sighs in exasperation before throwing another glare at them.

“you guys realize we have about four hours to get home, right? and we’re not even on the shinkansen yet,” he can practically hear his classmates roll their eyes. “it’s already getting dark out and—“

he’s cut off by a raised hand and gojo shaking his head fondly. “alright alright,” putting his hand back in his pocket, his head tips up towards the sky. “since loverboy wants to go home, we’ll just go ahead and get some tickets for the train already.”

gojo chuckles at the whines nobara and yuuji emit in unison.

“yeah, yeah. i’ll take you guys out another time — preferably when megumi’s not feeling so grumpy,” a hand comes up to ruffle megumi’s hair and he does everything in his power not to swat it away.

once they’re on the bullet train, the ride’s pretty silent; save for the irritant, loud coughs of the man across from them and the quiet bickering between dumb and dumber in the seats in front of them.

jade eyes occasionally darting next to him, they narrow at the sight of his teacher — a placid smile on his lips, never faltering the whole way back from their mission.

“you excited?” he asks, catching the boy off guard.

“for what?”

“to see them.”

megumi presses his lips together. “it’s not like we’re dating or anything.”

he’s met with a soft laugh as gojo slumps back in his seat, spreading his legs and interlacing his fingers, cracking them with the extension he brings forward before he shakes his head.

“you might as well be,” he shrugs.

megumi squints. “what does that mean?” with a small cock of his head, gojo’s laughing grows louder until his student’s looking around in all directions and shushing him.

but, being satoru gojo, megumi has no choice but to sit there and slink into his seat, hiding his face from the turning heads in nearby seats.

“it means,” the white haired man swallows as he extends his blindfold to act like he’s wiping a tear from his eye. a breathy chuckle and he finally turns back to megumi, “it means that it’s so obvious—! i don’t know how you don’t see it.”

“there’s no way,” crossing his arms, megumi looks away from the man.

“way,” said man grins. “you guys are so into each other.”

“shut up.”

“do i hear two people sitting in a tree?”

“you’re so irritating,” he massages his temples — although, nothing can ever properly drown out gojo’s teasing. he sighs, wondering how principal yaga does it. so instead, he closes his eyes with a wrinkled brow and leans back in the cheap seat, hoping to somehow fall asleep on the way there.

the last thing he hears is gojo’s giggles and what he swears is the sound of a camera shutter. he’s so gonna tell tsumiki about this, maybe she’ll knock some sense into him.

when he opens his eyes (or more so, they’re opened for him, as the first thing he sees when he wakes up is yuuji poking at his face for him to wake up), he rolls his neck around with a satisfying crack while the speaker system calls out how they’ve reached tokyo.

his bones feel achy when he steps off the train, the dull pain gnawing at the balls of his feet from all the walking and running they had to do today. it wasn’t a high level grade curse, maybe a three and a half or so.

megumi huffs when he looks at the maps on his phone. turns out he had to endure at least twenty minutes of walking once more before they got back to the school. the dawning sunrise paints over his vision as his eyes squint to see in front of him, ignoring the way nobara pokes his back to try and get a reaction out of him.

he can only pray he can see you sooner.

five minutes can feel like an hour, he thinks — and those twenty minutes seem to stretch on for eternity, even as megumi passes through the veil that shields jujutsu tech from the rest of the world.

footsteps like lead, he rolls his neck around to try and relieve the pressure that seems to have built up. his hand comes up to massage at the muscles but to no avail, his headaches only growing with every step. they only come to a halt when he sees a familiar head of hair, streaks of orange from the sky seeping into them; and there you are.

you’re talking with maki-san, waving your hand as you ramble about something. he makes a small noise when he stops, maybe because there’s also a firm hand slapping itself on his shoulder with fingers digging into his back.

his head whips around only to find kugisaki staring at him, her nails digging into his arm by the minute.

“oi, if you hurt them,” she furrows her brows. “i’ll kill you.”

he stares at her blankly, blinking once or twice. “okay,” he says.

“and then castrate your dead body!”

bewildered, megumi’s lips part a bit at a loss for words. unnecessary, he thinks.

“and then—“

“ah kugisaki,” gojo hooks his hand around the collar of her uniform to drag her away, despite the angry amount of mumbled curses spewed in feeble retaliation.

“megumi?”

he almost freezes at the soft call of his name, head turning towards the source before he sees you. you and your stupid smile.

(okay, not stupid, he decides. it’s pretty nice once he thinks about it. . . maybe because it’s all he thinks about. whatever.)

he mutters your name, his hands back in his pockets as he makes his way towards you. you throw a grin at maki, whom only rolls her eyes before slipping past the corner towards another section of the school.

his eyes occasionally dart from the stone path back up to you, and that’s how it goes. back and forth, back and forth. . . until you chuckle at his behavior and wave a hand over for him to come walk with you.

“how’s your leg?” he asks, trying not to look at the way the sun grazes over you too long.

you glance down at it and shrug with a small hum. “it’s been better.”

“i think that’s a given.”

“c’mon, it’s been three days since i’ve last seen you and you’re already getting smart with me?”

he huffs. “sorry, then.”

patting him on the back, you laugh heartily as you shake your head. “i’m just joking,” you say. “you were right that day, you know. i should’ve just listened to you.”

megumi’s brows lift, his lips parting with a soft, “ah.”

your head tilts up to spot the entrance doors, right where it leads to the dorms. you stop in front of the building, the tiny kanji on the directory reading, “boy’s dormitories,” being the boy’s wing and all.

“well,” he dismisses, “no point in beating yourself up about it now, right?”

you grin. “right.”

a lump forms in his throat, one he can’t get out — so instead of responding with a polite quirk of his lips or a hum, he turns his head to the wall with a soft ‘tch’.

“we haven’t seen each other for a while, though,” you begin, pushing off from the pillar with your shoulder before crossing your arms. “i’ve got the new weezer cd.”

he cocks a brow.

you chuckle, “do you wanna come by my dorm later to listen to it? you know how much i love your critiques.” your fingers form small all air quotes at the end of your sentence, to which he scoffs — he doesn’t notice the way your eyes look at him when he turns away.

he looks at the stairs, then back up at you with a small hum; which is megumi for “yes”.

“i’ll see you later, then,” you beam, hopping down the stairs as you throw him one last, small wave.

he lifts his hand with a meager one of his own, before watching you walk away, your head turning the corner first in hopes that maki or panda are still loitering around somewhere.

in the distance, he fails to see yuuji, maki and inumaki watching him from afar.

“fushiguro’s always like that with them, huh?”

“salmon,” inumaki nods, his words muffled behind his uniform.

maki grumbles, pushing the bridge of her glasses up. “that idiot,” is all she says before she starts walking away. yuuji cocks his head a bit before watching as the two walk away.

megumi doesn’t care as he closes the door behind him and walks down the hallway until he finds the familiar door of his room. he can’t help but let his lips settle into a small smile. you were the one thing his day got right.

so he’ll sit on his bed, thumbing at the worn threads of the nearby plush you got him at one of the more recent festivals you went to. he’ll look it in its eyes, dark and glossy buttons woven in, before he flops onto his back and starfishes on the bed.

he scoffs, “stupid,” before putting an arm over his face.

𐙚 taglist ; @sad-darksoul @kasumitenbaz @chxlexauriana @seternic @kalulakunundrum @2ukika @silly-norman

𐙚 requests are open — december twenty-ninth, 2024

[painted-flag]

A VICTOR, part two - Commodus

𓃮 emperor commodus x fem!reader 𓃭 masterlist. part one | part two | part three (final) 𓃮 warnings: small scene of violence towards reader (not by commodus) 𓃭 As a longtime and loyal servant working in the underbelly of the palace, your emergence into the light catches the attention of the emperor.

Days turned into a week, and then another, and another – blending everything. It had been almost a month since your invitation to Commodus’ chambers. The morning after you had feared the inevitable. Like all the other women he sent away, you would go too. However, such was not the case. Not only had you remained at the palace, but it had now become a nightly routine. 

After cleaning the kitchen at the end of the day, you would hastily make your way to his chambers. There, he would have you eat; knowing that you had little during your day of work. In the beginning, he would speak to you about random topics all in what you concluded was an effort to distract himself. Over time, he would begin to speak about his duties and frustrations regarding the senate. You understood that all he wanted was someone to listen.

All that was required of you was to offer words of comfort. You learned quickly that if you were to even slightly defend the senate and any of the senator's words, he would grow cold and become shut off for the rest of the evening; yet still did not wish for you to leave.

You still had no idea of his intentions, but had decided that for now, you were safe. At least, as safe as you could be – given Commodus’ well-known tendency to lash out. You had not been on the receiving end, nor would you ever try and bring it on. You were not stupid. The day after you told Commodus the identity of the servant that hurt your arm, that servant was never seen again. Simply, you provided him company which appeared to please and soothe him. 

Unfortunately, your duties had begun to slip. He had started to demand attention outside of the times of dusk until dawn. He wanted more attention and more of your focus. A natural consequence was rushing to finish your work. Scrubbing would be abandoned, some dishes would not be cleaned, and candles in other chambers would not be lit. If the other servants noticed it, they did not vocalize it. 

At first, some of the women wanted information regarding your first night with the emperor. They poked and prodded for any ounce of knowledge, but you remained steadfast in guarding the emperor’s secret. They all drew their own conclusions that you had slept with him, which was far from the truth, but a surprising event was the fact that you were not shunned and cast aside. Instead of a single night, they watched you go back every night since; now watching the emperor himself seek you out during the day. Whispers carried, but none wanted to be caught gossiping about the emperor. Should they choose to, their life could be forfeit. 

And so, your life carried on as though this was normal – as though this has been routine for years. 

You had been in one of the many spare rooms, wiping up some dust that had accumulated on a ledge with a small cloth when the door to the side opened. Before you could turn around, you felt arms come and wrap around your stomach. The sudden touch almost made you drop the cloth. The familiar scent of parchment and burning wood entered your senses and you immediately knew it was Commodus. 

He buried his head into your exposed neck and let out a long sigh. You felt his muscles relax as he leaned closer to you. By the sound of his sigh, he was in one of his irritated moods; often brought on by a difficult time with his duties. You made a move to turn around, but his grip got tighter and his lips brushed over the juncture between your neck and shoulder causing you to freeze. He had, in passing a few times, gently kissed your shoulders or cheek, but never had he been so bold in his movements. 

“Is everything all right, Caesar?” You questioned. 

Commodus shook his head against you and murmured, “What have we talked about?” 

“Of course,” You responded, “Is everything alright, Commodus?” Still, even a month in, it was sometimes difficult to address him by his name. However, his insistence was what brought you to heel. 

“No,” He breathed out on your skin, the action sending warmth from the area straight to your stomach, “They undermine me again.” 

“It is likely because they feel inferior to you,” One time, you had tried to defend the senators, but that only worsened his mood. You had learned the words that pleased him the most and gradually began to believe them as fact; an inner displeasure towards the senators you had never even met started to take root. 

“I don’t wish to speak of it,” Very slowly, he began to place featherlight kisses on your neck with one of his hands reaching up to gently pull back the fabric on your shoulder to give him more access, “What are you up to?” 

He often wished to hear you speak of monotonous things, letting himself sink into your presence and voice. It calmed him and in a sense, it calmed you as well. 

“I am only cleaning,” You began to speak, but found it difficult to focus on thinking when his hand that was wrapped around your stomach began to move in massaging patterns and his lips continued to assail your neck and only got more intense. 

“Cleaning?” Commodus spoke between his kisses. His voice was disconnected, entirely focused on his current task, “Sounds interesting,” He joked as he nipped at your skin. The action caused you to drop the cloth in your hand and let out a gasp. 

Commodus lifted his head and looked at the ground where the cloth fell, “Ah, it appears you have finished and are no longer busy,” Despite not seeing his face, you could tell there was a faint smile on his lips. He quickly spun you around in his arms, letting out a laugh at your dishevelled state. Red had made its way from your face to your upper chest, a sight that always amused him. 

“Commodus,” You scolded. 

His gaze darkened and his grip on your waist tightened, “Say it again.” You paused for a moment, wondering if that had angered him, but found no trace of annoyance on his face. However, the heavy look he had in his eye was like a man starved. It caught you off guard. 

“Commodus,” You whispered. That seemed to please him and he pulled you flush against his chest and began to kiss your jaw. His lips trailed down your jaw and towards your chin before moving up to capture your lips in a searing kiss. It was greedy and raw, but stirred unknown feelings in the pit of your stomach; a frantic flutter that would not go away. He had only ever given you gentle pecks on the cheek or shoulder, this was entirely new and you wondered what brought on such a craving. 

He pushed you backwards until your back hit one of the pillars. The marble was cold, shocking you for a moment due to the contrast of the heat of Commodus’ body. Yet, there was something about this that felt good; felt oddly right despite its unholy nature. He continued to kiss you, a mix of hunger and impatience wrapped in heated excitement. It made your knees feel weak and had your mind go fuzzy until all it could focus on was him. 

A small moan clawed its way from your throat that quickly made a groan fall from his lips. Commodus pulled away abruptly and looked at you through heavy-lidded eyes. You recognized the look of calculation on his face. It was the same one he got when he came to moments of clarity; the slight widening of his eyes, the lines between his eyebrows crease, and his lips twitch almost imperceptibly. He had thought of something in that moment and it appeared to shake him.

As if burned, Commodus pulled away. The contrast between his now reserved nature to his openness just seconds before nearly whipped your head into a frenzy. He looked almost… unsure. 

“There are duties I must tend to.” He cut your meeting off short, giving a curt nod and speeding out of the room. His clothing billowed as he moved and you could do nothing but stand there and watch his back as he left. 

As he fled from your presence, disappointment flooded your body and you could not help but wonder what it was in that moment that shocked him so greatly.

You had been making your way to your room to finish weaving a carpet for one of the guest rooms when your master, Attius, turned down onto the corridor you were in. Upon spotting you, he lifted his hand to command you to stop. Instantly, your body ceased its movements, eyes flickering like the torches that lined the space. You waited as Attius got closer and held your mouth shut; he hated when spoken to first. 

He stopped short just in front of you, “You have been neglectful in your duties.” It was not a question to wonder what was happening, but a statement. He did not care about any excuse, but you tried to plead your case anyway. 

“The Caesar has been wishing for more of my attention-” He cut you off. 

“So it’s the emperor’s fault that you have failed your work?” Attius crossed his arms and stood closer to you, towering over your figure. 

“N-no, master, that is not what I meant-”

“Then why do you bring it up?” His tone came across as condescending and rhetorical. You sucked in a breath at his growing aggressive posture and chose to submit, lest you incur his wrath. 

“I will try and do better, master.” You bowed your head in submission. 

“You will not try, you will do better.” He used his forefinger to lift your chin so you could look right at him and he lowered his voice, “It would be a displeasure to hurt such a pretty face.” He quickly retracted his hand and continued down the corridor, casually as if the threat was a regular occurrence. It was, but you had largely managed to dodge it for most of your life. Unfortunately, it appears patience for you has worn thin. You gulped some air into your mouth, just noticing that you had held your breath through his threat. 

It was not until he turned down at the end of the hallway and left your sight that you felt you could move. It was as if released from a spell. You shook off the fear and moved in the opposite direction to your room. It was only a few doors down. 

Entering the room, your eyes saw a small space. It was all stone and had some open-air windows at the upper parts of the wall, as the rest was underground, that cast some golden light from the sun into the space. In the corner was a woven mat that you slept on. Thankfully, despite your status as a slave, you and your mother were able to keep some items when going into servitude – a privilege not afforded to most. Because of that, there were pillows and animal skins that lined the space, making the floor mat more comfortable to sleep on. 

It was where you sat down to continue the final details of finishing up the carpet you had been working on for one of the guest apartments. Time passed in a way that was unknown to you. The light got brighter, signalling that the sun was setting and the angle hit just the right spot to come flooding into your room. It was fairly warm, given that the cool ground normally fended most of the heat off. 

You were lost in your work, singing to yourself gently as you were trying off some pieces of fabric when your door opened. Looking up, you saw Commodus standing there. He had never come down to the lower levels of the palace before. His eyes scanned your room, taking note of what little possessions you were granted. 

“Commodus,” You spoke and got his attention. Seeing the tired look on his face, you became sympathetic, “What has happened?” What you really wanted to ask was what happened when he left you so abruptly earlier that day, but knew it was an answer you would have to wait for. 

“Damn the senate,” He mumbled as he closed your door and made his way to where you sat. You scooted over to make room and he settled amongst the pillows and animal furs behind you. Commodus placed his chin on your shoulder, looking over and down at the work you were doing. His arms wrapped around you and pulled your back to be flush against his chest while his legs lay bent at the knees on either side of you. 

Being cocooned in his warmth was something you had begun to get used to and dreaded the day it would go away. That negative voice in your head always reminded you that soon he will get tired of this, of you. 

Commodus looked at the various details on the carpet, spotting a small image, “A tiger?” 

“Yes,” You affirmed and ran your hand along the woven design, “I like tigers.” He moved his chin from your shoulder and replaced it with his mouth, his nose peeking over. He inhaled deeply and sighed. 

“Have you ever seen my tigers in the games?” He asked. You could feel his lips moving against your shoulder as he spoke.

“Once. I’m always too busy with my duties that I never have much spare time.” Your fingers tied off two pieces of fabric and moved on to the next bit of work. Commodus focused his attention on you, his hand brushing away your hair behind your ear and down your back, exposing your neck. 

He rested his head back on your shoulder and watched as you skillfully continued your work. Minutes passed in silence and you decided to hum a tune knowing it would make him happy. His fingers traced patterns on your stomach and you tried with all your might not to focus on it or you would melt into his arms. You had to finish this piece soon or Attius may use it as an excuse to reign down on you with anger. 

In the haze of relaxation, Commodus spoke gently, “Do you ever think about doing other things with your life?” 

His question came out of nowhere and left you wondering about his true intentions to ask such a thing. It was not something you ever thought about, nor cared to think about. This was your life, always and forever. There was no freedom given to a servant and such wishful thinking would only worsen your state. 

“I am good at what I do and I am honoured to serve the empire.” You responded. Yet, your answer did not seem to fully please him and he sighed. 

“What if there were other ways you could serve?” You did not understand Commodus’ mode of thinking, nor would you ever begin to try. In the time spent together, you learned he can often be unpredictable. 

“There is no other way I would wish to serve.” You reasoned. He hummed at that answer and brushed your shoulder before leaving a quick kiss over the fabric. His hand reached out to grip your chin gently, his thumb brushing over the skin in calm movements. Commodus looked you in the eyes. 

“Whatever you wish. Whatever you desire. State it.” You caught on to his unspoken words. Commodus wished for you to confess something you were not entirely sure of; confess you felt for him beyond a silly companionship. There were two paths set out for you. 

The first path was to deny. Deny that you have feelings for him and continue these little trysts. Hope that they continue for as long as they can and pray for mercy should he get bored of you. If you were lucky, you would end up like the previous women who shared a night with him and lose your position at the palace and be moved somewhere else – to some other rich person’s dwellings. It would not be so bad at the end of it all and you would have shared something special with someone; a moment of shared camaraderie on a level you never expected to have in your life. 

The second path was the one you wished to run down. You could say it there. Confess that your heart beats faster when he walks into a room. That now your favourite time of the day was visiting him in his chambers, talking, and falling asleep in one another’s arms. You wanted to say that each time he kissed you, it was like you were tasting Elysium. There was nothing else you wished to spend your days than in his arms. 

But that second path was even more unpredictable and greater than that; nothing but a stupid fantasy. 

Your place was as a servant, a slave. You were worth less than a single buckle on his clothing. 

That was why you gave him a soft smile to pretend everything was okay and recite words that felt like a stab in your heart, “I am content with my life. I would wish for nothing to change.” 

His face remained neutral, not giving away the same feeling you were experiencing: the sheer weight of his heart being crushed. He nodded and looked back at the carpet on the floor. His chin balanced on your shoulder and he appeared done with this conversation. 

You immediately wanted to take back your words. You wanted to scream out an answer, shout out the feelings that had been brewing in your body since he first summoned you into his room. You cared for him, you yearned for him. In some insane, unpredictable way, you believed you were beginning to love him. 

However it was futile, it was all too unlikely to end up well. 

And so you worked in silence with nothing but the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back and the rhythmic movements of your hands as they crafted; wishing, hoping, dreaming it could all be different.

The day had ended quickly with the beautiful soft glow of a setting sun. That evening you had dived into your work in the kitchens, cooking and forgetting about your troubles. For a brief time, it worked. However, every little thing began to remind you of him. The food that would be served to him, the colour of the olives not even coming close to the vibrancy of his eyes, even the taste of figs did not come close to the sweetness of his lips. Upon that realization, you had the urge to throw the bowl of figs at a wall but resisted. 

Commodus was so frustratingly consuming. He had made a home in you, wedged his way into the crevices of your skin and stuck to your bones until it was him that made your body move; made your body get up in the morning and decide to continue. 

That damned man. Why did he ever invite you into his room in the first place? 

The kitchen had long cleared out and you were now calm and eager to finish the last of the cleanup. You moved around the space on nothing but muscle memory, totally focused on the tasks that needed to be done. You were so focused, that you failed to see Attius lingering in the doorway, observing your movements. 

A few pots you were balancing fell to the ground and you moved to pick them up. Your knees hit the ground and you began to stack them. Sandaled feet moved into your vision and you halted your movements. Gradually, your vision moved upwards from your crouched position and you saw Attius staring down at you. His face was set into a scowl and his eyes were full of scrutiny. 

“You have failed me,” His voice broke you from your shock. You made a move to get up, but he held his hand out as a command for you to stay down, “You said you would get better, but your work has slacked more. That makes me angry… and you know what happens to those that make me angry.” 

“I’m sorry, master, truly. I-”

“I wish not to hear your excuses. How do you think such actions should be punished, hm?” Attius leaned back on one foot and tilted his head. 

The thought of begging made you want to hurl. You would sooner wish to spit at his feet than plead for mercy, but there was no other way for you to get out of this. Your head hung low, bowed towards him.

“Master, I humbly ask for mercy for my transgressions,” You put on the kindest tone you could, voice dripping in false sincerity. 

He bent over and gripped your chin to look up at him. He slowly made you rise to your feet, giving you a soft expression – a stark contrast to his personality just seconds ago. Once you had stood up, he still kept your chin in his hand. 

“You have always been such a good worker, just like your mother.” His words reassured you, if only for a moment, “Which is why this will hurt me just as much as it hurts you, but nothing must go unpunished.” 

The momentary ounce of relief you had washed away immediately. Before you could respond, a sharp stinging sensation hit your cheek and almost knocked you over. You hunched slightly and raised a hand to cover your cheek and recognized that he had hit you. 

You tried to back up and get away, but his hand reached out and gripped your tunic. He pulled you close to his face and whispered with unconcealed anger, “You will learn to obey.”

Each light dab against your cheekbone felt like needles piercing skin. You had endured Attius’ rage and had now spent the last hour in a small room where the slave healer lived. Cassius was an aging and withered man, unable to participate in heavy labour and had since taken it upon himself to aid the other servants when they became injured. He was kind and attentive to everyone and you remembered him healing your mother many times as a girl. 

After Attius had beaten you, you managed to crawl on your hands and knees down the hall and towards Cassius’ room. He immediately took you in and began assessing the damage. A large bruise had begun to form on your face that spanned from your cheekbone to the top of your temple on your right side. Your arms and legs were littered with other matching bruises, but what hurt most of all was your stomach which had been kicked multiple times. 

All of your wounds had been treated, save for a split lip and the bruise on your face which was now being assessed. 

“Some of the bruises should only take two weeks to heal, as they are not too terrible. The one on your stomach will likely take longer.” Cassius informed you as he pulled away from cleaning your face and put his blood-stained rag down. 

You let out a sigh, brain overwhelmed with information. Yet, all you could think about was Commodus and what he would think. You were already worried that any day he could grow bored and send you away – this would only solidify it. If you were covered in bruises, why would he ever find you attractive enough to keep? He would become tired of you before you could heal. 

Deep down, you wanted to think it would be different, but insecurities had always held a vice-like grip on your heart.  

“He can’t know,” You whispered to yourself.

“Who can’t know?” Cassius questioned. 

You rested your hands on your knees, “The emperor. He cannot know or he will send me away.” For a moment, you two were silent with nothing but a single flickering torch lighting the room. You knew you needed to bide time to heal. If there was a good enough explanation, a proper excuse, you could heal and pretend nothing had happened. 

That night, you were supposed to visit Commodus like every night prior. Except you could not this time and needed to figure out a plan. 

“Say that I am sick,” You got Cassius’ attention, “Inform him that I am ill and can not be visited by anyone out of risk of spread.” 

“You are asking me to lie to the emperor,” He confirmed. The way he framed it like that had you understanding the severity of it all. You were asking him to risk possibly his own life to cover up your injuries. 

“I’m sorry, Cassius. I should have never suggested it.” You let out a low sigh and stared off into the corner of the small room. You needed to come up with another plan quickly before Commodus began to wonder where you were. 

“I will do it,” He broke the silence, “I only hope you know what you are doing.” 

You wanted to leap out of your chair and hug him but restrained yourself. It would only make your body hurt more. You nodded in thanks to him. The pain had begun to set in as the adrenaline wore off and you found it difficult to move without causing enough pain to nearly immobilize your body. 

“Stay here for a while and rest. I will go and inform him of your absence.” Cassius opened his door and closed it gently, leaving you to sit with your thoughts. 

Your life, in only a few short weeks, had changed drastically from the regular routine you had come to love. The world you had grown up in was blending with a world you never should have touched in the first place. Yet you could not imagine it any other way, nor wanted to forget the memories you had made. 

Deeply, you wanted to think that your time with Commodus was more than temporary, but the lingering thoughts in your brain forced you to look at it negatively. With your feigned sickness, you could perhaps hope he forgets about you and does not have you sent away. Already you could barely handle severing your life from his – it hurt your heart more than the bruises on your body. Perhaps, if he forgot about you, you could still remain in the palace and not lose everything you had ever known. 

You leaned back in the chair and stared into the open flame of the torch, seemingly wishing that the fire could consume you whole. It would not hurt as nearly as the cracks deepening in your heart.

taglist: @scrumptiousloser

[slutforgarlogan]

"You can check if you like" | Peter Maximoff x F! Reader

Summary: Peter comes back from a mission with a wound and you patch him up. He takes the opportunity to tease you.

Warnings: nsfw content, fingering, teasing, Peter being a cocky asshole

"Oh my god what happened to you?" you jump up from your seat when the team gets back from their mission, noticing the bleeding coming from your boyfriends head. You'd be lying if you said he didn't look hot all bloodied up, but you were too concerned with his wellbeing to indulge in the urge to make out with him.

Peter gives you his usual cocky smile, ignoring your concern "I'm fine babe, its just a scratch." You aren't convinced, but you know he wont go back on the statement, ever the cocky bitch despite his constant dramatics. You raise an eyebrow at him to indicate you dont believe him, "Please just let me look at it anyway"

Peter rolls his eyes and groans, smiling at you playfully while he does so - but he doesn't protest and takes you to one of the bathrooms with a fwip.

Though he does that all the time, you never expect it - and the speed always makes you feel ill and disoriented. You take a second to ground yourself, before getting the first aid things out of the bathroom cabinet to sort him out, and speaking to him as you rifle through it. "You're okay everywhere else yeah, nothing got through your suit?"

"You can check if you like" His tone is suggestive and he wiggles his eyebrows, and you roll your eyes at his answer - taking that as a no. He watches you for a second, and then sits down on the closed toilet lid before you have the chance to tell him to.

You move to stand in front of him, subconsciously situating yourself between his legs where he was practically manspread, and you push his goggles onto the top of his head, trying to make sure his hair stays tucked under them and out the way. The cut looks deep, and you wince a little thinking about it. You lock eyes with him as you pick up a little cotton pad and alcohol to clean the wound - you've done this a fair few times and he knows the drill, but you warn him regardless. "It's gonna sting a second Quickie"

You press the alochol soaked cotton pad on the wound, making sure to be gentle, and Peter grips onto the nearest thing when you do so, which happens to be your thigh. The feel of his hand on you shoots to your core immediately, and your breath hitches for half a second before you catch yourself and ignore it. You keep cleaning the wound, eventually moving on to clean the dried blood around it, and Peters leg is bouncing as he starts to get bored and restless.

You lock eyes with him and lean back a second. "Peter, sit still, find something in here to distract yourself im nearly done i promise" There's a certain look in his eye when he looks at you, and you can see an idea forming in his head, and you worry slightly what ridiculous idea you've accidentally caused him to have, but you get back to what you're doing anyway.

As you grab a roll of bandaid and scissors to cut it down to fit the wound, you feel a hand at the top of your thigh, fingers hooking into your panties to get them down a little - you try to ignore it and focus on finishing what you're doing, holding the roll up unrolling a little bit to see how much you need.

You hear a little cocky laugh from Peter as his finger prods at your folds and you could have ripped his suit off him there and then. But you try not to react, steadying your breathing before you look at him. "Whats funny"

He looks up at you, a shit eating grin on his face. "You're so wet and i haven't even touched you"

A pink shade dusks over your cheeks as you roll your eyes, in your head you know exactly what made you wet, but you know he'll poke fun at you for it so you don't tell him. "Shut up"

You cut a bit of a bandaid off the roll, big enough to fit the wound, and as you do so, he slides a finger into you, thrusting it in and out at a painfully slow pace - but he doesnt take long to slide a second finger in. He is still in his suit, and the gloves of the suit feel weird. The feeling is foreign but good. Your breathing goes a bit shaky as you try to concentrate, putting the roll down and picking up the bit you cut off, flipping it around to peel the back off, struggling a little fiddling with it.

Peter speeds up his fingers, curling them inside you to hit the spot that makes you whine a little, earning the same shit eating grin as before as he makes sure to keep hitting that spot. He brings his other hand to circle your clit as you finally get the back off the band aid, and you moan out as he draws figure 8's over the sensitive bud. "Fuckk Peter"

You stick the band-aid over the wound carefully but quickly, placing your hands on his shoulders as soon as you're done, breathing heavily and whimpering a bit. "Peter please"

He speeds up the finger on your clit, practically vibrating it and you moan loudly, legs shaking as you try hold yourself up properly and your walls clench around his fingers a little.

Thats when he stops. You look at him with pleading eyes "What the fuck"

He laughs a little "You've finsihed patching me up"

You look at him dumbfounded and annoyed, you open your mouth to protest but he speaks before you.

"You wanna check under my suit now?"

[djarincore]

— vampire!simon punishes you

warnings: noncon/dubcon, smut, angst, dark, jealousy if you squint, blood, sorta based off this post

You're stiff when he throws you against the sheets. A silk nightgown does nothing to shield the feeling of his body molding into yours, trapping you against the bed.

His hands leave trails of ice along your skin as they slide beneath your thighs to force them apart. His lips are on your neck; his tongue drags against your rapid pulse for a taste. You shrink beneath him when it becomes teeth—pointed canines scraping against your skin.

Your voice wavers, a thick lump swelling in your throat. Tears gloss over your eyes as you force the words out. “My Lord, forgive m-”

“Shut up,” he hisses, wrenching away from your neck. His nose meets yours as he looks into your tear filled eyes. “You’re lucky I don't fuckin’ drain you.”

“Thank you, my Lord,” you whimper, shutting your eyes. His gaze, so intense, is enough to make you feel like you're being swallowed whole. If he wants to bite you, fuck you, then he can. You just want to be free of his grasp and breathe again.

“What did you hope to accomplish tonight?”

“N-Nothing, I-”

“Look at me!” He roars. A hand clamps around your jaw and forces your face back to his.

When your bleary eyes open, Simon is still above you, holding a carved stake. The same one you tried plunging into his back.

“Thought you could stick me with this twig? Who gave you that idea, huh? You think that bastard wants to save you?”

You know you shouldn't be going back to him, but you can't help yourself. John makes you feel safe, wanted, more than a lamb for slaughter. When he takes you into his arms, they're warm. Pressed against his chest, you hear his heartbeat, reminding you you're still alive too.

When you're forced to return to Simon at dusk, you're hit with the harsh reality of why you no longer belong to the living.

Simon barks out a mocking laugh. “No one wants to save a pathetic, sniveling thing like you.”

Your chest aches and the tears you hold back flow down your temples.

“I should stick this in you to teach you a lesson. You'd like that wouldn't you?”

A new cold washes over you. When his hands push your nightgown past your hips, exposing your naked core, you grab at his wrists. He ignores your clawing fingers and you begin pleading instead. “Please, don't. Please.”

“You'll take anything in that greedy cunt. This won't be a problem,” he sneers, smoothing a hand down to your mound. “I'll even get you nice and ready for it.”

His thumb presses down on your clit and your legs lock around his waist as the sensation jolts through your body. Quick circles are all it takes for you to shift your hips forward.

“Look at you. Already asking for it.”

You bite your lip and hold back a moan. You hate the way he makes you feel used and dirty and breaks you apart with his touch.

When the stake’s tip touches your folds, you gasp. Luckily, it's dulled at the tip, not sharp enough to pierce you, and the round base is sanded down.

Simon bullies the stake into you, ignoring the way you squirm. He's met with resistance as he pushes deeper because you're not wet enough to take it.

“I can't,” you insist, shaking your head. Its pointed head prods at your walls and you wince. You resist shifting your hips and focus on his thumb still slowly swirling on your clit instead.

“That's not what this cunt’s tellin’ me,” he retorts. “Look at ‘er, takin’ it just like a cock.”

Simon thrusts the stake further. The head stabs deeper into you, forcing a pained gasp from you. Tears swell in your eyes once again and your finger dig into the sheets.

“I can't—I've learned my lesson. Forgive me,” you cry.

He pulls the stake from your cunt. It drags against your walls, making you wince, as it is pulled free, glistening with some of your arousal. Simon throws it to the side with so much force it’s embedded into the wall. To serve as a reminder for the next time you get any foolish ideas.

You take in a shuddering breath, hoping the worst is over, but yelp when his hands suddenly grasp your hips and flip you on your stomach.

Simon bends to your ear, chest pressed against you back and his hard cock against your ass. “Next time the two of you try to kill me, bring him along and I'll drain you last.”

You burrow your face into the pillow and nod your head in shame. You would be a fool to try anything like this again. And you wouldn't dare put John in danger.

“That’s a good girl,” he coos, grinding his cock against your ass. A hand sneaks between your thighs, returning to your clit.

You can't help but move your hips against his hand now that the stake is gone.

His nose brushes your bare shoulder and his other hand forces your head to the side, baring your neck for him. “Now, stay still for me.”

The pierce of his fangs is a cold sting at the juncture of your neck and shoulder. The shock is always first, rooting you in place and unable to even form a scream. And when that subsides, the pain comes hot like poison spreading through your veins.

You squirm beneath him, both the heat of his bite and your rising pleasure clash in you. But the pleasure always wins and the pain becomes nothing but an afterthought against his fingers. Instead of a scream, you moan.

You're so close, you can feel the knot in your belly tighten, but your vision is becoming blurry. You begin to fear he’ll make good on his threat to drain you.

He drinks and drinks, taking what he needs, but you feel yourself slipping between consciousness and your climax. You open your mouth but all that you manage is a weak, intelligible mumble and any pleasure you hoped for slips into a cruel darkness.