#Maybe if I believe hard enough it will be him

[shadowykittengladiator]

I disagree actually. I stand by my earlier words. Joker is not that important that a king would have to come from an another dimension to kill him. Joker didn't get ressurected that many times, there have been people that died and came back a lot more than Joker in DC canon. Including Jason, Bruce, Damian, Talia, Ra's, Superman, Superboy, the entire thing with the Black Lanterns really. It can't be because Joker killed many people either. There are people in both DC canon and earth history that killed a lot more than he did. Danny would need to visit a large number of people before he comes anywhere near Joker in that list.

I mean, let's be honest, we know why Danny is headcannoned to kill Joker a lot. Because people care about Jason Todd and wants him to get revenge. Never mind the fact that Jason doesn't want to kill Joker, he specifically wants Bruce to kill Joker. I mean I don't like Jason but I can still understand people who do. People in general disregard a lot in comic canons while writing fics, Which is,like, fine This isn't criticism by the way. It doesn't need to make sense in canon sense for it to be enjoyable. This is DC we are talking about after all. Comics are a mess.

Also I don't think Bruce would mourn Joker. Not even in the sense you talked about. Year 1 Batman might have given a thought or two, maybe felt pity for a second, that Joker wasn't able to change his life, before moving on with his life, completely forgetting him. But after Jason became the red hood in the timeline? No way. It's has been proven time and time again that Bruce wants the Joker dead, that he wants to kill him but is holding himself back due to his principles.

Just to be clear again, it is a bit hard to convey opinions in text. This is not criticism, don't come after me people. Overall, I enjoyed this discussion and the prompt.

By the way, if we are going with infinite realms being infinite, there must be other knights working for Danny. And with many people like Joker, Danny obviously can't go after them all. So instead;

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

He sends one of his knights. One of the inexperienced ones. Joker is after all, not as important as someone like Darkseid, who has been a thorn in Danny's side for some time now.

Batman is skeptical at first after all, when a knight in an armor appears and explains to him. A dead dimension? People Joker killed wanting revenge? Joker unbalanced life and death so much he must stand trial before the king? He doesn't believe it.

He sends word to Constantine, who confirms Infinite Realms exists and there has, in fact, been a new king but he doesn't know much more than that. A word to Captain Marvel confirms it's a death dimension and the new king is a good king. Marvel would know, he is friends with the new king, apparently. Diana confirms Joker might have been broken the balance and it is possible this might gather the attention of the king of the Infinite Realms.

Batman makes some more research after that but it is enough to him. The knight asked Joker to be delivered in a days time so Batman prepares to go Arkham Asylum only to find cave empty of Jason, who has been restlessly pacing while angrily muttering something.

He arrives at Arkham Asylum just in time to see Jason knock Joker out. He watches him for a bit before making himself known.

"Are you going to stop me?" His son asks. Batman doesn't answer. Instead he takes out a......... present tape?

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

"Is that the Joker?" The young knight asks them when they show up at the agreed time. He sounds bemused, seeing Joker wrapped like a present and bound with tape. But that wasn't the funniest part. Courtesy of Dick, Joker looked like a clown. And actual clown this time, with red nose and wig.

He also had various bruises from various people all over his face but nobody cared about that.

"We figured your king might like it." Dick answers as Nightwing.

The knight coughs and Bruce doesn't need to have perfect reading skills to know he is trying not to laugh.

The knight takes of his helmet and offers them a smile. He reaches out for a handshake. He couldnt be older then eighteen but that is not what Bruce focuses.

A gasp by his side, from Red Hood, makes him realize he is not hallucinating.

Bruce knows this boy. Like he knows the girl he failed to save because he couldn't solve Riddler's puzzle in time, or the girl that drowned in the sewers because Bruce wasn't strong enough, or the boy that was stabbed by his father because he he didn't want to join a gang, or the boy that froze to death the last time Dr.Freeze escaped Arkham, or the child that burned to death due to Firefly and to this day they don't know who they were.

He knows this boy. Aiden Miller. Got kidnapped by Joker. The clown told them they were on a time limit. Him and Jason, as Robin at the time, managed to find him in time, only to find Aiden's body completely brutalized. Joker played with them again. Aiden's parents were also killed in the attack. Bruce made sure the boy had a funeral for him.

He shakes the hand of the boy he couldn't save and watches as he takes the Joker. Bruce thought this Infinite realms was just another afterlife governed by a God. And it was. But it has to be more than that. This boy that died as a preteen grew up to a fine young man and came back to bring justice to his killer. Even if he was a ghost.

He needs to talk to Constantine and Marvel. See if they can help him join Jokers trial and get him and his family a seat on his execution. Jason's birthday was coming, his boy would appreciate it.

He wondered if this King of the Infinite Realms needed a lawyer for Jokers trial. He is Batman after all, and Batman was a master of many things.

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

Damn, I don't know how to write in English😮‍💨😑

DPxDC Legal Power

Batman: You can not punish the Joker

Batman: You are no judge, jury, and executioner

Danny Fenton, standing over Joker's beaten body: Actually, I am

Danny Fenton, raising the Creep Stick up: I am the High King of Infinite Realms, and this bitch has been resurrected more than once

Danny Fenton, smacking Joker like a piñata: With the use of a pool of some nasty smelling ecto, mind you, but it puts him under my jurisdiction nonetheless

Danny Fenton, smiling at Batman as Joker is wheezing and trying to crawl away: So I am the judge, jury, and executioner for him since I'm the highest power in a Realm where he is a denizen

Danny Fenton, catching the Joker by the ankle and dragging him back: And as the King, I hereby sentence him to death by a repetitive use of The Creep Stick over his whole body

Batman: ...

Red Hood, with a bowl of popcorn: Do you mind switching The Creep Stick for a crowbar?

[danroiie]

Jayce Talis x male!reader. NSFW. MDNI.

content; soft!needy!dom!Jayce. sub!reader. grinding against clothes. fucking on a desk. light masturbation (received). rough but soft grinding. maybe a little bit of “friends” to lovers(?. he is a ‘please’ boy.

A/N; I need more of him x m!reader. 👹 #needthat. Well, what I was coming to. English is not my first language so I apologize in advance for any grammatical error, I do what I can 😪🫶🏻. Feel confident to correct me (as long as it is with respect, of course)

By the way, this was planned to be longer, but in the end I didn't like it and I cut that part leaving only the action. You can imagine what you want about what happened before.

The second punch of the day hit his right cheek. This time, you felt the regret forming in your chest as you watched him complain of the pain. But despite that, his hand was still firmly clinging to you, with no intention of letting you go. You took his wrist, trying to separate his hand from your forearm, but the only thing you got was a war of struggle through the room.

The fight ended only when you were cornered between your desk and Jayce. Most of the things that were on the nearby desks ended up on the floor. You don't know how long you two had been like this, but the sweat had already accumulated on your forehead because of the physical effort, just like on Jayce's.

He was close enough to you that you could feel his breath hitting your chin. You both stared at each other, trying to regulate your breaths. You hadn't noticed how much he had changed until he was very close. His hair was longer than usual, as was his facial hair. You were surprised that you were able to recognize him just moments ago.

For his part, you were almost the same since the last time he saw you. Of course, the only difference was the small dark circles under your eyes, but other than that everything remained the same. You kept looking at him with those eyes even though your expression or words wanted to make him believe otherwise. Your hair was not in that tidy hairstyle you used to wear; it was untidy and small strands stuck to your forehead because of the sweat. That only made you look so much better.

His gaze unconsciously turned to your ajar mouth.

He had really missed you, more than he should have.

You felt one of his hands slide from your jaw to the back of your neck, where it stood still and firm. You swallowed hard as you continued to look at him carefully, avoiding losing any other movement. You watched him exhale in a very peculiar way as he met your eyes again. He approached uncertainly, stopping millimeters from you. You could swear that his nose brushed against yours.

And what had only happened in your deepest dreams was fulfilled.

His lips crashed with yours in a fierce and needy way that barely gave you time to react. The hand that was on the back of your neck had now tangled between your hair.

You clung to the collar of his shirt to bring him closer to you. He let out a gasp among kisses as he carefully got you on top of the desk, positioned himself between your thighs. His kisses moved away from your lips only to continue their journey across your cheek, whispering repeatedly how much he had missed you as he passed by your ear. His path then moved down to your neck where he left sloppy kisses.

After a short time, you began to feel a small erection growing in the middle of your legs. You felt your face burn with embarrassment and you tried to close them, only to remind that Jayce was between them. The small pressure on his hips made him stop at his work with your neck to look down confused by the sudden movement. He let out a low and small laugh as he raised his head again to look at you, smiling sweetly before planting a small kiss on one of your reddened cheeks. "Don't hide it from me" he whispered to you with that same low tone in your ear, his hands slowly went down to the buckle of your belt.

His forehead rested on yours as he closed his eyes. You did the same as you felt one of his hands slip inside your trousers. The two of you let out a gasp in unison when he finally managed to touch you over the fabric of your underwear; you clung to one of his arms at the same time as your other hand clung to the wood of your desk.

His touch began slowly and softly, as if he was afraid of hurting you. Then, he started to go a little faster when he made sure you were wet enough.

"You look so pretty like that" he managed to say with difficulty.

"Shut up"

A contagious giggle escaped from his lips and you couldn't help laughing too.

You moan in reply when you feel his hand move away from you, but that didn't last long. His hands rested on the lower part of your thighs, raising them slightly upwards, which caused you to almost have to lie down on the desk. You looked at him confused for a few moments until you felt his own erection colliding with yours.

You heard him let out a hoarse moan before he leaned down to find you. You got up as best you could with your elbows. Your gaze traveled to your crotch, where you could better appreciate his erection against yours.

You couldn't help but moan when you saw that.

You felt Jayce's arms rest on both sides of you and the soft touch of his forehead against yours. You looked up to meet his eyes again; he watched you for a short time before leaning over to kiss you.

You could feel how he began to grind against you faster and faster, so much so that your desk began to move, throwing some of the papers that you had previously scattered on top to the floor. You felt your legs falter, but Jayce's hands made sure not to let them fall by clinging tightly to your thighs.

After a while, both of you let go of each other's mouths, with a small thread of saliva connecting your lips.

“Ah fuck-” You whimper, almost out of breath “I’m gonna-”

“Don't look away, keep looking at me, please”

Your underwear was soaked with the fluids of both. Your elbows hurt from the effort to support your weight, and not to mention your legs. Them were only still up thanks to Jayce. Your back began to arch from time to time, and you knew that soon you would cum.

Your breathing was a mess. You no longer knew if what came out of your mouth were moans, if you were just hyperventilating, or even a mixture of two.

For god's sake, it was just a grind, why was it making you so fucking bad?

“Jayce, I can’t… I… I need it, I need it so bad”

“Ssh It’s okay, I'm right here” he whispered to you in gasps “Why don't you lie down completely, hmm?”

Your back leaned completely against the desk. His hands grabbed your arms and brought them straight to his neck, where he quickly intertwined them before returning his hands to your thighs.

“Just let me make you feel good”

His face was hidden in the hollow of your neck as he continued to grind against you desperately. You clung to the fabric of his shirt, biting his shoulder and muffling the sound of your whimpering. You could only hear the sound of your desk hitting the wall of the room and Jayce's sometimes hoarse moans.

After a moment you heard him curse as he moved away from your neck, looking for your gaze.

“I need you to cum with me, baby, can you do it, please?”

You nodded quickly; you didn't make an effort to say anything because you knew it would be in vain since only incessant whining came out of your mouth. You looked at him, and you could swear that you had come right at that moment; the way he looked at you pleadingly and needy made you question which of the two looked more pathetic now. It was a miracle that you could contain yourself. You clung to his back tighter when you felt your pelvis contract as well as your legs. You would do it; you were close.

On your way to hide your face in the hollow of his neck one of his hands stopped you, holding you by the nape.

“Look at me when you cum, baby, don't hide your face, yeah?” you didn't tell him anything, but it wasn't necessary. The way your eyes looked at him told him everything.

For a moment, you genuinely believed that the desk would break under you. Jayce's hips began to move against you in a disastrous way, with an irregular but fast and strong rhythm. One of his knees rose to lean on the corner of the desk, and you felt one of his arms take you by your lower back. You could see the sweat on his forehead.

Your vision clouded as you felt the heat forming inside you; your orgasm approaching with each stroke. And, as if he knew, the grip on your thigh tightened harder, just like the one on your back.

“oh yes!, please, please, please, please”

Your body reacted to his words, and that's when you felt the barrier of all your control break. You felt your orgasm hit you with a wave of pure pleasure all over your body. You cried out, your voice broke with lust and need as you felt your legs tremble just like your back arched. Feeling your body pressing against you, Jayce's own climax rose to the foreground with the intense sensations pushing him to the limit.

“Fuck!” he groaned, his eyes rolling back with hips jerking erratically.

His body fell on yours, avoiding crushing you, of course. Your foreheads joined together while trying to regulate your breaths; both let out a small chuckle as you looked into each other's eyes. As the last pulses of his orgasm faded, Jayce tenderly wiped the tears and saliva from your face, which you hadn't even realized you had. He looked at you with sweetness and softness, still holding your face.

"You have a lot to explain" a smile drawn on your lips.

"You have no idea"

[spxllcxstxr]

Jayce Dating Someone from the Undercity • Headcanon

(Gif not mine)

Request: i would like to request jayce x fem reader headcanons with a reader who is from the undercity. -- anon

Warnings: mention of undercity judgment/bigots, mentions of scars, general anxiety, still very very cute

A.N: JAYCE!!!! 😫😫😫😫😫😫 I love him so much, I hope you all enjoy!

•

You never thought you would end up with someone like Jayce Talis. Piltover’s Golden Boy. The Man of Progress. An easily excitable man with just the biggest heart. No, you never thought you’d ever be this lucky

At first you thought he was just some privileged top sider; pretty on the outside, ugly in the inside. But Jayce wears his big heart on his sleeve. Within moments of interacting with him it was revealed to you that he was a caring individual with dreams of helping people in need. He wanted peace and prosperity for all

No matter how hard he tries, Jayce will never understand what life was like in the murky depths of the Undercity. You had friends you considered as family growing up, of course; that was the sliver of happiness you were lucky enough to have. But even then life was tough

The constant fear of something lurking behind you (or hanging above you) was one you couldn't shake even after years of living top side with Jayce. The need to check over your shoulder when strolling through the streets of Piltover and the frantic obsession with double--no, triple--checking the locks in your apartment was a necessity that was buried deep within your soul

(When you first started dating you felt immensely embarrassed by the mannerisms the Undercity ingrained into you. It took a couple dates before Jayce asked you in a hushed voice if you were being followed by a chem-baron or some other adjacent criminal. At that point you knew you had to sit him down and explain everything)

Jayce is ever so patient when it comes to you. While in the lab he wants answers and results for whatever he's tinkering with, with you he feels as if he can sit and wait forever. If you ever need to talk he’s all ears

He never made you feel stupid or insane for your habits, not even when you first told him about how you were raised. Jayce was so patient as you told him with tears in your eyes that no amount of time top side would stop the gnawing anxiety your childhood gave you. He held your hands and wiped the tears away as they ran down your cheeks. You almost made him cry, golden eyes filled to the brim with tears making them look like liquid sunlight

That's when you really knew you loved him completely, and that he had loved you too. That was your Jayce, a man who wanted to understand you and have you know every second that he had your back

Despite your differences, Jayce never made you feel less than. Being top side made you feel like you were branded with the term 'Undercity Rat' across your forehead. People would give you looks and stuff their hands deep in their pockets to grasp onto their coins tighter when you walked by. But Jayce was never like that. Maybe it was because of his close friendship with Viktor, or maybe your sweet, sweet Jayce simply wasn't born with a bigoted bone in his body

Jayce also sticks up for you and has your back if anyone makes you feel unwelcome top side. He knows you can hold your own and fight your own battles, but he can’t help but get involved and defend you. His jaw clenches and his knuckles turn white from squeezing his hands into tight fists at his sides. He just doesn’t believe that you of all people should be judged. Jayce believes that you are a kind and beautiful soul and that you deserve the world

He likes holding your hand when walking around the city, not only because he’s big on touch and displays of affection, but also to let everyone know that he loves you—no matter your background

If you have any physical scars on your body he will always lightly kiss them; showing affection is what Jayce loves doing. He wants to make sure you know that he loves every single part of you

He loves that you and Viktor become friends. You two started out with a shared bond of being Undercity street kids turned top siders. Jayce asks Viktor for advice when it comes to you, whether you would like something or if you knew what something was

All in all, Jayce just wants you to feel loved every second of every day. He has so much love for you and he wants to show it. He’s just bursting out the seams with his admiration for you. You are his everything, and he’s never afraid to show that off

•

[tanuki1029]

Hi! I very much appreciate the sentiment, and I can tell you mean well. Normal and abnormal can be pretty loaded terms.

That being said. This is extremely bad advice for someone dealing with a potential loose grasp on reality. Some hallucinations might not cause any problems for some people, and maybe for them, being told that they're not normal would be primarily hurtful.

I, however, am now learning I genuinely don't have as good a grasp on reality as I thought. I needed input on reasonable realities to figure out if I had one or not. As it turns out, I do not.

I go in and out of thinking I'm god, or being hunted by god. The one I no longer believe in, partially because believing in him made me believe that I could control spiritual forces with my mind, and the followers of that religion encouraging me to believe these things. I was told I have a gift of prophecy, and I still have trouble believing that I cannot see the future.

I didn't know any of that wasn't normal. While I was in the thick of this religion, though, I was not upset by these delusions. I was ecstatic when I could pray hard enough that I felt God's power flowing out of my paws. I was excited to learn how exactly I could use this power to end all of the world's suffering, and it was all very normal for me. So normal, that I saw them as integral to my daily functioning until I fell away from the church from life getting in the way enough for the dread of hell to overpower the ecstasy of being god's chosen Priestess.

If I was less lucid, I would be thanking you for your advice. That wouldn't be a good thing.

Proving a point to myself

[bandsofmarv]

Future, past and present.

Struggling with adjusting to the new timeline. He meets someone new. Logan slowly begins to trust you, he realises that maybe—just maybe—this new timeline offers him something he thought he could never have: a second chance, and someone to share it with.

TW - not really any, fluff and angst, smut.

The cabin smelled of pinewood and faint traces of whiskey, the air heavy with a history Logan could never escape. It was quiet—too quiet for his liking. For someone used to chaos, peace was like a loaded gun: unpredictable and waiting to go off.

You, however, had brought that damned sunshine into his life. From the moment you had breezed into his space—too bright, too warm, too alive—Logan had been trying not to crack under the weight of your presence.

But you weren’t easy to ignore.

“Logan,” you called softly, your voice lilting as you stepped into the room. You carried a mug of steaming coffee, its rich aroma cutting through his brooding haze. “You’ve been staring out that window for hours.”

He grunted. “Maybe I like the view.”

You smiled, leaning against the counter, watching him with that unshakable optimism that made his chest ache. He didn’t deserve you—hell, he didn’t deserve much of anything. Not after all the bloodshed, all the lives lost on his watch.

“I’d believe that,” you teased, “if you weren’t scowling at it like it owes you money.”

He glanced over at you, the corner of his mouth twitching in something that could almost be called a smirk. “What do you want, darlin’?”

“Breakfast? Company?” You stepped closer, unfazed by the storm brewing in his eyes. “You can’t keep shutting me out, Logan.”

“I ain’t shutting you out,” he said gruffly, though the words felt like a lie. The truth was, you had wormed your way past his defenses before he’d even realized it. Your kindness grated against his jagged edges, smoothing them in ways that scared the hell out of him.

You placed the mug on the table in front of him and sat down, propping your chin on your hands as you stared up at him. “If you say so.”

For a long moment, he said nothing, the silence stretching between you like an old wound. Finally, he sighed, the sound heavy with the weight of years. “I’m just… not used to this.”

“This?” you prompted.

Logan ran a hand through his thick, graying hair, his jaw clenching as he searched for the right words. You didn’t press him, though the concern in your eyes was enough to chip away at his defenses. He wasn’t good at talking about this—about anything, really—but if anyone deserved an explanation, it was you.

“This… timeline,” he started, his voice rough, “it’s not where I came from. Where I was…” He trailed off, his gaze dropping to the mug of coffee in front of him, fingers tightening around the edge of the table. “It was hell. And I ain’t using that word lightly.”

You didn’t flinch, didn’t interrupt. You just waited, patient as always, letting him find his way through the storm.

“Everyone was gone,” he said finally, the words quieter now, like they were being dragged from the deepest part of him. “Most of ‘em dead. Mutants… wiped out. Charles…” He paused, swallowing hard. “He didn’t deserve what happened to him. None of ‘em did.”

You watched him carefully, your heart aching at the cracks in his usually impenetrable exterior. You’d heard whispers about his past, about what he’d been through, but he’d never opened up like this before.

“They relied on me,” Logan continued, his voice gaining an edge of bitterness. “And I failed them. Over and over again. I survived, sure, but what the hell was the point? Just to watch it all burn?”

“That wasn’t your fault,” you said gently, your voice soft but steady. “You did the best you could.”

Logan’s laugh was short and humorless. “Yeah, well, my ‘best’ didn’t stop the world from falling apart.”

You reached across the table, placing your hand over his. His skin was rough and scarred, but you squeezed gently, grounding him. “You’re here now, Logan. In a world where they’re alive, where you can make things right. That has to count for something.”

He looked at your hand over his, then up at you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you thought he might pull away, retreat back into the shell he kept so tightly around himself. But instead, he turned his hand over, lacing his fingers with yours.

“It’s not easy,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Being here, pretending like I don’t see the ghosts of what I lost every damn day.”

“I know it’s not,” you said, your thumb brushing over his knuckles. “But you don’t have to do it alone. Not anymore.”

Logan stared at you, something flickering in his eyes—something raw, vulnerable, and so deeply buried you almost didn’t catch it. And for the first time in what felt like forever, he let the smallest sliver of that sunshine you carried seep into the cracks of his broken world.

“Guess I don’t,” he said, his voice softer now, as though the weight of his confession had lightened just a little.

You smiled, warmth radiating from you like a beacon in the dark. “Not as long as I’m around, old man.”

Logan huffed out a breath that could have been a laugh, shaking his head. “You’re too good for this world, darlin’.”

“And you’re too stubborn to admit you deserve it.” His hand tightened around yours. For once, he didn’t argue.

Logan’s grip on your hand tightened as his gaze lingered on your face, his usual stormy eyes softening, just for a moment. Something in the air shifted, the weight of his grief replaced by something electric, something that hummed between the two of you. You felt his thumb stroke the back of your hand—tentative, almost unsure—and when your lips parted to speak, he surprised you.

Logan leaned forward, capturing your lips in a kiss that was fierce, desperate, and utterly consuming. It wasn’t graceful—nothing with Logan ever was—but it was real, raw, and filled with the kind of hunger that made your heart race.

You gasped against his lips as he pulled you into his lap, his hands finding your hips and grounding himself in the warmth of your body. “You sure about this, darlin’?” he growled, his voice rough and gravelly as he searched your eyes.

Your answer was a soft moan as you kissed him back, threading your fingers into his hair and tugging, eliciting a low rumble from his chest. “I’ve never been more sure,” you whispered, breathless, your lips brushing against his.

Logan didn’t need more convincing. His hands slipped under your shirt, calloused palms exploring the soft curves of your waist. He groaned as his lips trailed down your neck, teeth grazing your skin just enough to make you arch against him. Every touch, every kiss, was a testament to how much he’d been holding back, how deeply he craved you.

By the time he carried you to his bed, the quiet cabin was filled with the sounds of your shared desire. His kisses grew slower, more deliberate, as he explored every inch of you like a man trying to memorize something precious. His scars brushed against your skin, but you didn’t shy away. Instead, you welcomed him, showing him with every touch that he was safe here, with you.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice husky as he took in the sight of you beneath him, your body bathed in the dim light of the room. His hands roamed your curves, his lips following, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

You pulled him closer, your fingers tracing the lines of his muscles, marveling at his strength and vulnerability. “Logan,” you gasped, the sound of his name on your lips driving him wild. He groaned as he finally gave in, his movements slow but intense, savoring the way your body responded to his.

It wasn’t just about lust—it was more. In every kiss, every touch, there was a depth of emotion that neither of you had dared to voice before. He wasn’t just claiming your body; he was baring his soul, trusting you with the broken pieces of himself.

And as the night stretched on, Logan finally allowed himself to let go, to let you in, and to believe—if only for a moment—that he might deserve this happiness after all.

[blackenedsnow]

ART X A SELF DOUBTING VAMPIRE READER PSLPLSPSLLS!! like they think they taste all rotten and nasty but art doesnt think sooo!

red as snow

WARNING: Self doubt

PAIRING: Art the Clown x Vampire! Reader

NOTE: Omg this is so fun to think about!! thanks for the ask <3 I ALWAYS love writing about vampires OHHHH MAN

SUMMARY: Art doesn’t mind what’s wrong with you. That’s the worst part, really. You can’t understand how someone so perfect in his brutality could ever want something so rotten.

The blood pools around your feet in lazy rivulets, stark and shining against the pale stretch of snow. It’s almost beautiful, in a grotesque sort of way – the kind of beauty you find in shattered glass or a body just before the life leaves it. Art would know what you mean.

He’s doing something behind you, a slow, lilting tune, soft as snowfall. He’s in his own little world, swaying slightly, his bloodied hands clasped behind his back. His clothes look filthy now, stained with deep red streaks.

You think he looks ridiculous. And perfect.

“Do you ever think,” you say quietly, your voice barely carrying over the winter hush, “that I might taste bad?”

Art stops. His head snaps toward you, and even though you know he doesn’t speak, you feel the weight of his question in the tilt of his head, the way his wide eyes narrow just slightly.

“You know,” you murmur, staring down at the corpse between you, “if someone tried to bite me. My blood’s probably awful. There’s something wrong with me.” you glance back at him, watching the way his grin widens like it’s some private joke only he gets. “You’d agree, wouldn’t you?”

You’re half-joking, but it still stings when he laughs – or whatever you’d call that silent, breathy wheeze of his. He’s doubled over, clutching his stomach like you’ve just told the funniest joke in the world.

“I’m serious,” you say, your voice sharper now, a little defensive. You fold your arms over your chest. “Why wouldn’t it be bad? I’m rotting from the inside out, Art. I can feel it. There’s no way it’d taste good.”

He straightens up, wiping at his face even though there’s no tears, no sign of any real laughter – just that grin of his, smeared with someone else’s blood. He takes a step closer, his boots crunching over the snow.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you mutter, turning away. “I mean it. It’s not romantic to drink from something dead.”

He’s behind you before you can finish the thought, his hands curling over your shoulders in a way that makes your skin crawl – and not because you don’t like it. You hate that you do. That you want him to hold you tighter, to crush you in that terrible grip of his.

“I mean, maybe it’s fitting,” you continue. “You’re a demon. I’m a vampire. We’re both monsters. But even monsters deserve something better than this, don’t you think?”

Art spins you around in one fluid movement, his hands dropping to your arms to hold you in place. You can feel the press of his fingers through your clothing, too strong, too insistent, but you don’t pull away. He’s tilting his head again, his grin growing impossibly wider, like he’s daring you to keep talking.

“You don’t believe me,” you say softly.

He shakes his head, slow and deliberate. Then, quick as a flash, his hand moves to his chest, dragging his fingers down like he’s unzipping it, miming something pulling at his heart.

You swallow hard. “You’re just saying that.”

He glares at you, his grin faltering for the first time. It’s subtle, just the faintest twitch at the corners of his mouth, but it’s enough to make your breath catch.

“Okay, okay,” you say quickly, raising your hands in surrender. “You love me. I get it. You don’t have to be so dramatic about it.”

He doesn’t let go. Instead, he leans in closer, his face inches from yours. You can smell the copper tang of blood on him, can see the splatters drying on his skin.

Maybe he doesn’t care what’s wrong with you, doesn’t care if your blood tastes like poison, if your body is too far gone to be anything worth having. He just loves you.

[goingmerryfics]

A really funny reverse on the daddy post: someone asks you to call them daddy and you say “you’re not my dad!”

You're Not My Dad! - Sabo, Usopp, Kid

Content: NSFW & MDNI (not in Usopp’s), sexual situations, unintentional (?) kinkshaming, laughing during sex, Pre-Skip Usopp, Usopp being silly, Usopp’s can be read as platonic

Notes* yeessss thank you sm for this one >:) I took a little bit of creative liberty with this one and did some different characters this time!

Sabo

The sheets are tangled around the bare bodies of the both of you

The room is quiet aside from the soft pants and sounds from the two of you

In this intimate moment, you’re completely enveloped in each other

Sabo leans down, biting at your earlobe. He’s so lost in the moment, lost in you

“Call me Daddy.”

You didn’t believe it at first. Did he just say that? Like for real?

You look him dead in the eyes, have just enough time to ask him what the hell he just said, before you burst out laughing, asking him if that’s his way of asking for a baby, or if he’s just feeling extra spicy today

Sabo looks like he’s going to explode

“Oh, crap, I got a little carried away, I’m sorry!” 

It’s kind of hard to continue your coupling after that but you two are laughing pretty hard

Kid

Sex with Kid was a pretty frequent thing as his partner. The guy just has an insatiable appetite for your body

With that, your relationship has dived into quite a few kinks 

So as he’s got you pinned, writhing and sighing at his touch, he has no hesitation as he whispers,

“Who’s your daddy?”

It doesn’t throw you off guard so much as it does just kind of… Turn you off a bit?

You really don’t wanna think about your dad in the middle of this

You hardly think about it when you reply along the lines of, bitch, not you!

Of course he stops, thinking for sure that you’re just being bratty before he realizes no, he’s just goofed up here

“Just- Forget it!”

He’s red in the face and just continues touching you, trying to move on from the situation

Usopp

You were sitting nearby, watching him making repairs on the Merry

He was rambling on and on about how he’s fixed ships from 20,000 different pirate ships in the past

An obvious lie, but it’s entertaining to listen to him ramble on about it, making up stories that very well could be turned into truth one day

Maybe not this particular one- Usopp was, by no means, a Shipwright. But he cared for the Merry and he did his best, so you couldn’t fault him for that

Usopp leans back from his task, wiping his forehead and sighing with finality as he finishes

He excitedly gestures to his work. It’s messy, but he prevented a leak and for that you give him a little clap

It’s then that he puts his hands on his hips and proudly puffs out his chest.

“Call me Daddy Usopp!”

You immediately scream out the first thing that comes to mind in response- you’re not my dad!

It makes the both of you laugh out loud, enough to bring tears to both your eyes at the ridiculousness of the situation

[koolades-world]

So I actually just read the post about an MC who is very avoidant and has taste and texture issues with foods and it delighted me because I am a person who loves to cook and actively enjoy being given restrictions in textures when cooking so I can make things everyone can eat. And I'm the exact opposite who with very few exceptions (like allergies) will eat ANYTHING. (and have learned about allergies the hard way once) So - maybe - the direct opposite - the MC who will try ANYTHING that doesn't eat them first.

hi!! so glad you enjoyed that post enough to request! while my requests are actually closed right now, i actually really liked this and decided to do it anyways! this doesn't mean i'll do this for everyone, because then am i really closing my requests?

but anyways! had lots of fun writing this! perfect for right before thanksgiving, because food mmmmmmm. i'm baking a cheesy bread this year for my contribution :)

Mc who will try anything

Lucifer

he won't lie, you do worry him a little

so many devildom foods are not safe for human consumption

but yet, you shove it into your pie hole without a second though

he's always prepared to help you if you eat something bad however

Mammon

he's thrilled because that means he always has a buddy!

you'll help each other out if you're a little hesitant to try something new

it's all fun and games until you accidently eat something that turns you into the human equivalent of drugs again

he will most likely cry and quickly find you help lol

Levi

will ask you lots of questions about the taste and textures of foods

that way, he knows if he wants to try them or not

you’re much more adventurous than he is

he knows you don’t mind being the taste tester for both of you!

Satan

he’s very curious

surely there’s something you’re opposed to trying, right?

boy was he wrong

once, he offered you something you both knew would have adverse affects on humans and freaked out when you still ate it… he never did that again

Asmo

he constantly tells you that you’re glowing

he swears it’s because you’re so open to trying new things

you’re not sure if that’s how that works, but if that’s what he wants to believe, sure

it’s not everyday someone is complimented to that degree by him

Beel

instant best friends!

he's so glad that someone else can see the appeal and how tasty everything looks

maybe even some not foods. so what if that plate looked good?

anyways, he'll call you over as soon as he sees something new and interesting to try!

Belphie

he's quick to learn all of your favorite devildom and human world foods

whenever you're having a bad day, he'll make it appear for you <3

if he sees something he knows you haven’t tried, he’ll pick it up for you

after making sure you can eat it, of course

[tom-foolery-incorporated]

I’m thinking something with starscream!? Like smut with a dom starscream and sub reader where he bends her over and overstimulates her pls🙏

Bro did you shoot like some CIA brainwave thingy at me because the night before I had a dream about Starscream and today I’ve been thinking about him all day. Poorest meow meow, most evil loser, fucked up princess

Starscream x Reader, AFAB gender neutral reader, racially ambiguous, overstimulation, g/t, brat taming, finger fucking, slight breeding kink, degradation

Starscream wasn’t known for his patience. He constantly jumped on every opportunity to overthrow Megatron that came his way but somehow Starscream managed so be methodical.

Impatient and methodical.

Maybe more so impulsive and methodical.

He jumps in leaps and bounds to conclusions, always the worst ones. Starscream wasn’t the easiest to get along with by any means yet here you were always by his side. Soft little human form perched atop his shoulder and hugging his helm. Tiny, flesh fingers dancing over his wings as he allowed himself to rest into a recharge state. You were his and Starscream made that very clear.

“Too big!” You cried drool dripping from your mouth and onto Starscream’s desk. Your ass was propped up over Starscream’s arm in the air while your lower body was slumped against the cool metal of his personal desk. His other servo was busy pushing two of his digits into your wet hole.

“I’ve seen you take larger,” Starscream said smugly. “You have no business complaining about taking two of my fingers.”

You moaned as he scissored your hole open. You managed to take his digits down to the second joint and covered them in your dripping arousal. “I can’t believe how greedy you are,” Starscream scolded as he set a brutal pace fucking his fingers into you hard enough to push your body forward. “Speaking to Thundercracker like that,” Starscream huffed as you moaned out for him pathetically. “Is your human valve really so desperate to be filled you’d take any Cybertronian spike that came your way?”

You shook your head desperately. “No! No I only need yours!” Tears welled up in your eyes at the feeling of having your poor pussy brutalized by Starscream’s fingers. “Hm,” Starscream stopped pulverizing your sweet hole for a second to think. “I don’t believe you.” He added a third finger giving you no time to adjust as he returned to his previous pace.

“Please! I only want you!” You wailed feeling your wetness leaking around where his fingers plugged you. “Please!”

Starscream smirked at your reaction reveling in your pathetic form. “Prove it.”

He pulled his servo away from your body taking his fingers out of your slick hole with a schlick. Starscream brought his digits to his intake cleaning off your arousal with his glossa.

You panted watching him over your shoulder. His lascivious display did nothing to help you catch your breath. You turned your body over so you were on your back propping yourself up on your elbows with your legs spread.

Starscream simply sat back in his chair with a smirk plastered on his stupid, handsome face. You pouted at your lover completely furious with how smug he could be.

“Don’t tell me you’re already scared?” Starscream teased releasing his modesty plate with a hiss. His spike sprung to life slapping against his abdomen. You tried your best not to melt at the sight of his fully erect cock and kept your grimace firmly in place.

Starscream gave a firm stroke of his spike before frowning down at you. “I don’t think you want to learn what I do with brats,” he warned with a scowl.

“Takes one to know one,” you snap back with an all too proud smile.

You felt the air shift for the worse as Starscream’s turbines whirled loudly. He pounced slamming his hand down to grab you as you skittered backwards like a crab. “I shouldn’t have to put up with this attitude,” Starscream growled grabbing you around your waist. You shrieked at the sudden motion of being brought to Starscream’s lap.

His spike throbbed between your thighs as the tip beaded transfluid against your chest.

“I generously let you lay on my berth,” Starscream started as he pulled your body upwards so your cunt dragged along his spike. “I amuse your little human antics.” He pushed the tip of his spike against your clit letting his transfluid lubricate down your vulva. “And you still continue to behave like a brat!” Starscream reeled his hips back then pushed forwards stuffing the head of his spike inside of your hole.

You grabbed onto his wrists as your whole face scrunched up in pain. “I think for once I’m going to take what I want from this little organic valve,” Starscream purred with a sharp thrust. You cried out his name pressing the bottom of your feet against his thigh plating. “Such a lovely little hole to fuck,” Starscream said punctuating the last word with a deep rolling thrust.

He kept a steady rhythm using you like a toy. Your cries and squirming only did more to excite him. Your hole felt raw from his fingers previously abusing it and now his spike stretching you to your limit. Tears streamed down your face as you babbled out praises and cries of pain. Starscream seemed all too pleased with how you writhed against his spike. Your squishy body so tender in his servo he could crush you like a bug. The way you gushed and squeezed around his spike made his cooling fans sputter in bliss.

“Say it,” Starscream barked stilling his thrusts. You cried out in protest at him ceasing his movement. “Say that you’re my hole to overload in.”

You whine in embarrassment and softly repeat what he had said.

Starscream pinched your clit harshly earning a cry of pain from you. “Don’t test me, human,” Starscream growled. “Try again and be louder this time.”

“I’m your hole to overload in,” you said breathlessly. Starscream huffed still not satisfied. He flicked at your sensitive pussy making you yelp.

“I’m your hole to overload in!” Your voice rang out.

Satisfied with your display of submission, Starscream grabbed you around your waist and lifted your body up and down his spike. You went limp in his servo having every ounce of your being controlled by Starscream’s drive to cum in you. “I want you to thank me for interfacing with this filthy organic valve,” Starscream spat.

“Thank you Starscream!” You cried feeling yourself pushed far past your limits.

“Unlike you,” Starscream started with a grunt. “I don’t go around taking whatever spike comes my way.”

“I don’t-“

“Shut up,” Starscream barked. “As I was saying, I don’t just interface with anyone so you better feel special to even brush up against my interface panel.”

You nod giving breathless thanks to your lover. Starscream smirked all too satisfied with his fuck toy.

His spike twitched and writhed inside of your gripping cunt. The wet noises produced by your conjoined bodies mingled with your croaking thanks to have your pussy used by your lover made Starscream dizzy with lust. “I’m surprised how you managed to stay so tight,” Starscream hissed. He could feel his release crawling its way through his circuits. “With such a floozy lifestyle I was sure you’d be gaping for any spike that came your way.”

You cried out apologies and continued raining your gratitude onto Starscream. “I don’t want any spike but yours!” You cried feeling your lower body throb in ecstasy.

Starscream swore under his breath trying not to let his hips falter. His little human so beautifully submissive in his grasp. He could be as mean as he wanted to you and still control how you clench your thighs in arousal. “Tell me what you need,” Starscream panted his thrusts becoming erratic.

“Fill me,” you panted squirming in his iron grip. “Please! Fill me with your transfluid!”

Starscream whined your name pushing his spike into you frantically. His optics were squeezed shut as he sneered in pleasure. Your velvet walls were gripping him trying to milk him dry as transfluid spilled from his needy spike. Your combined juices leaked around where he plugged your hole. Starscream’s frantic thrusting didn’t cease until his lower body was shaking. You only shivered and groaned in delight at being so full. You could feel your womb stretching to accommodate the load your lover delivered deep into you.

Starscream’s fans blared in the silence of the room. His tired optics trained on your sweaty body. “My love,” Starscream panted giving you another thrust that made you cry. “Don’t act like I’m finished taking what I want from you just yet.”

[raguma1002]

i have some thoughts about what would happen if bojack and mr peanutbutter got together before the start of the show. @fandomfreakstudios have a wonderful post on this topic and i like their au very much. i just want to speculate on this from a slightly different angle.

i agree with freak's vision in many ways, but thinking about it, i've always found their relationship in such a scenario to be more messy and extremely ambiguous. ambiguous in terms of the fact that they themselves do not know who they are to each other… okay i'll try to explain

they meet for the first time at some event: an award ceremony, a party, whatever. then they see each other again, again, again, and in the end bojack reluctantly gets closer to pb - out of boredom, maybe - they drink together, chat about everything, discuss acting and so on. gradually they grow closer, their relationship becomes more trusting and intimate.

and before they knew it, they suddenly started spending nights at each other's places; mr peanutbutter recently divorced katrina, and he doesn't want to feel lonely, so all his attention is now focused on bojack. he became attached like a faithful dog (literally) and it will be almost impossible for him to let this man go, no matter what a jerk he actually is.

and bojack, who completely destroyed his previous relationship with herb, sees this. he doesn't reject pb when he becomes more intrusive for two reasons: firstly, he is afraid to ruin everything again, to lose a loved one, and therefore he tries to play a good friend; secondly, he likes this attention. he craves it. he longs to be wanted, to be admired, to be needed no matter what.

so, yes, their relationship is growing, and so is codependency. bojack tries to be kind, fair, supportive, but when he discovers how difficult it is - and most importantly, when he sees that his efforts don't matter, because pb won't leave him anyway - he stops. and, when there is not only an agent who will get you out of any trouble, but also a close person who is ready to love you no matter what disgusting things you do, and justify your behavior in any way, you stop not only growing, you become much worse than you were already.

nevertheless, he still has bright sides, some kind of concept of morality, and he is literally eaten up by guilt for what he is doing with their relationship. he, from time to time, makes some attempts to fix it - with well-known grand gestures - but it doesn't last long. then he gets tired again, realizes that everything he does is pointless, and turns to alcohol, drugs - everything, just to calm the pain and guilt consuming him from the inside.

mr peanutbutter also tries hard at first. he genuinely believes that if he makes enough effort, their relationship will be as happy and trouble-free as it was in his family, as it was on his native peninsula. he keeps ignoring all the red flags until everything turns into a real disaster. he still doesn't want to leave bojack because a) he is afraid to be alone, b) he is attached to him, he actually likes him very much; c) he feels sorry for boj.

we have seen how mr peanutbutter can behave in a relationship if he is really displeased or upset about something. eventually even his patience comes to an end, and maybe he makes the first attempt to leave, but quickly returns - either on his own initiative, or because of bojack's conviction that he will change. then everything repeats again.

this time, pb stops ignoring the bad attitude and goes on the offensive - he responds to manipulation with manipulation, to neglect with neglect etc. as a result, he becomes little better than his partner. they start quarreling constantly, it exhausts both of them. but that's all they have left when they just can't let each other go.

if we draw analogies, then this is something between bodiane, pb/diane and bojack/pc relationships, but i hope you understand the course of my thoughts.

bojack's career is still a failure, but at the same time pb's one is much less successful than in the original, obviously because of his personal life. well, now he has much more time to, for example, fight with his life partner again and eventually drive off to the other side of the united states together. for some unknown reason. they're sick to death of each other and yet still codependent. well. you know how it is

i could write more, but it seems like i've got a cold and i also want to sleep (whimpering whimpering) and the post already came out kinda long. so yeah. but maybe i'll talk about it later again

oh and i almost forgot

[peppertoastuniverse]

Hi pepper!

I have a request for a one shot Gojo x reader. that’s fluffy based off of this song called “memory lane” by aqualina

I do have a scene based off of it but do whatever you’d like. Imagine this, either reader or Gojo finds some old footage of Him, reader, Shoko and Geto hanging out in their high school years. Reader and Gojo reminisce on old memories.

omg thank you for your sweet request ! hope this one was worth the wait ✨

something good – gojo satoru x reader

contents: gojo satoru x reader, geto suguru mention, ieri shoko mention, light angst with LOTS OF FLUFF, mentally strugging softboy!satoru gojo, lots of yearning, 2 pages of making out, slightly suggestive summary: gojo uncovers hidden memories and realises that all he needs is you wc: 3.6k

spring time, second year.  “.. it looks like me and you haven’t really changed that much, hey?” he says softly, the fondness for you showing in his younger face all those years before.   even when he didn’t ask, he knew that you would always be there. you were his constant. he didn’t know when he started seeing you in everything he did, if you could see his thoughts, you’d be able to see your smile reflecting back at you.

“satoru?” still concentrating on his nintendo DS, he sighs. he recognizes suguru’s tone, it either going to be a deep question or a fucking stupid one. he rolls over with a groan on suguru’s bed to face his best friend, his book that he was reading lay forgotten on his desk. “yeah?” satoru asks lazily, eyes darting back to his flashing screen. “who do you see yourself as in the future?” oh, here we go. satoru fights the need to roll his eyes. “what do you want for your life?”  “pff, I want to just fucking beat this level.” he says aggravatingly, groaning dramatically as his character dies again. suguru laughs seeing his flashing screen, previous annoyance disappearing instantly, satoru can’t help but grin back – he always liked suguru’s laugh. 

“...don’t you ever think about it though? the future?” the future?

he blinks. blessed with great strength and power, he knew from a young age that that choice wasn’t something that he was lucky enough to have. satoru never had to worry about the future, he had his whole life planned out for him. the thought never saddened him, and why should it? he wasn’t a fool and believed that all things were equal in this world. he was the chosen one, the future of jujutsu society – that was just how life was –  another consequence of being the honoured he supposed. but glancing at suguru’s thoughtful expression, the flicker of hope and despair in his violet eyes, his rough hands winding through his dark hair, it was clear to see that this obviously mattered to suguru. satoru didn’t understand where suguru was going with this but it was just like him to worry about things that didn’t matter. satoru sighs, attention back to his game,  “i dunno, it’s hard to say when we’re already the strongest. what else could you want?” suguru scoffs, shaking his head “you won’t be a teenager forever – you’d better wake up sooner or later, satoru.” satoru jolts awake, moving his blindfold up to rub his eyes irritatedly. 

shit, for once he didnt mean to fall asleep. still feeling slightly disoriented, he hastily slides off of the couch, moving quickly to his room down the hall. groaning as he glances at the clock in the hall, he sighs hoping to ignore his slightly teary eyes. he was going to be late – you were going to kill him. 

satoru hasn’t been sleeping well lately – not that it was from a lack of effort. he’s tried melatonin pills, exercising before bed, even those sleepy girlie time party mocktails – or whatever you called them – but nothing helped. it definitely wasn’t the endless missions that the irritating higher ups were making him go on, he was used to the workload. maybe he was worried about something. walking quickly through his room, satoru wondered if you were getting enough sleep. did you have dreams too? sleep never seemed to be there when he wanted it. rubbing his face, to fully pull himself into reality, satoru could still feel the remnants of the quiet comfort produced by his unexpected dream. he felt shame at the feeling. guilt in the comfort. 

satoru didnt get a lot of sleep to begin with, but there were times where the extra hours awake weren’t all bad. he might as well be useful, which is how satoru started learning how to cook in the early hours of the morning, proudly surprising tsumiki and megumi with cute bento boxes. he would binge watch a whole tv series at once, determined to tell nanami all about it at jujutsu tech. but he thinks the best use of his time awake was when he was simply seated on the couch with you, listening to you talk about your day until the drowsiness would overtake you and he could just hold you for a little bit. he liked when you came over, tsumiki and megumi liked it too. just last week, when he saw your expression melt when tsumiki begged you to stay for dinner, giving into her like you always have. satoru remembers your grin as you sat next to silently pleased megumi, picking out the tender pieces of chicken from your plate to give him more of his favourite. when you were around satoru noticed that fushiguros were more at ease, and he couldn’t help but think that maybe it would be better if you moved in. but this was uncharted territory – a necessary boundary– protecting you from the rise and fall of his storm. his greed would have to lay dormant in his dreams. 

but the lines were getting blurrier throughout the years. satoru couldnt deny how his face would light up when you’d call him while he was on a lengthy overnight mission. concern smothering the delight in your voice that he was still awake (“satoru! what the fuck, did you even sleep today?”), he’d easy dodge your concerns, covering the fatigue in his voice with teasing remarks and crude jokes to your obvious frown.  “tell me something good, satoru” you’d say, seeing right through him like you always did, voice still laced with sweetness, wanting nothing more than to listen to him talk. 

taking wide strides across his room to throw something on, satoru rustles quickly into his closet grabbing whatever looked clean and appropriate. if he showed up in his crinkled pajamas again to a meeting again, you’d surely cuss him out. his eyebrows crease at the thought of disappointing you, he was supposed to make you smile not stress you out – he made a promise to himself to always look out for you and there you go again worrying about him. 

hastily grabbing the folded dark blue sweater at the back of his closet, blue eyes widen at a box toppling to the floor. its contents dramatically spilling across the cold hardwood floors. 

great. he didn’t have time for this. groaning, he quickly kneels down to right the box, his breathing hitches. 

strewn across his floor, he sees scenes of his missing dreams. photographs of his time at jujutsu tech as a student, his eyes taking in the many photographs that shoko had taken, moments of a simpler past. gathering the pile of photos, he slowly rifles through them – a photo of shoko and him with matching peace signs, a photo of you doing shoko’s hair, blurry photos of suguru chasing after you when you’d steal his cigarettes, snickering photos of him trying to climb suguru like a tree, a photo of you and kento sharing sandwiches. 

another lifetime ago. he picks up the slightly faded photo of himself and you, a reminder of a well loved memory. satoru shakes his head softly at the way you sat on his back while he was sprawled out on the gym mats, his glasses perched at the top of your head acting as a crown on your shit eating face.  satoru cant help but grin at his own small pout in the grainy photo. shoko always had the best timing. you had a bet with suguru that if you could get gojo’s glasses, he would treat you to unlimited free ramen from that nice place in shibuya with the fresh noodles for two months. 

satoru remembered how you’d excitedly roll off him ignoring his grumbling, “toru, you know i had to win! it’s suguru! have you seen how much sugu eats? that fucker would run me dry! but don’t worry, i’ll get him to pay for you too.” 

he never told you that he had let you win of course, not putting up much of a fight, distracted by the smile on your face – so bright that he couldn’t bear to diminish it. you must have had some sort of curse in your smile, even convincing a begrudging suguru into paying for satoru everytime, “sugu, you have to! he’s going to whine and cry, do you really want to deal with that?” 

after that month, satoru never went to back that ramen place again– too sick of it to go back. he could hear the creaking floors when the three of you would arrive,  the smell of the rich broth and the sound of suguru’s laughter when he teased you.   satoru knows you havent had shio ramen since then – you insisted on have ramen for every meal for a month to suguru’s annoyance. perhaps he’d invite you to go eat there again if it was still there. 

somewhere in his mind he thinks he hears the warm sound of your arrival, the jingling of the key that he gave you when the fushiguros first moved in. your usual light steps, heavy now with annoyance. 

“really, satoru?” you yell, annoyance dripping from your sharp tongue. “i’ve been calling you a billion times, this is an important meeting – we can’t be late again. you fucking said you’d be ready by the time i –” you see his still figure hunched at his closet. your eyes narrow in confusion, your tightened fist unclenching at the sight of his still broad back. 

“... satoru?” you call, voice softening as you notice the tension in his shoulders and the unnatural stillness of his too tall body. curiously you creep up behind him, your  slow hands feel his shoulders, the tension cold and heavy in his muscles, your hesitant hands leaving a trail of fire behind them. arms weaving their way around his slender neck, a place that you’ve been before. your eyes take in the photos strewn on the floor, visions of a past life swirling in his cluttered mind. your eyes widen. 

“..’toru?” you try again – more gently – calling him from the abyss, a light in a rough storm. eventually, you feel his large cold hand reach up to gently hold your right hand in response, his blue eyes tear away from the photographs, tousled white hair leaning against your abdomen, his tired eyes looking up at your concerned face. 

“hey.” he greets you, trying to mask his fallen expression with a hollow smile, a carefully practiced defense, something that he developed in childhood but perfected in suguru’s absence. but you knew him well. you knew how his eyebrows would crease or how his lip twitched when he was on the verge of crying.  

the dark rings around his eyes echoes you concern – were they darker than usual? you sigh as you take into account his far away stare, his icy watery eyes. crouching down, all anger forgotten, you look over his shoulder to take a closer look at the photo he’s holding. apologetically you let go of his hand in exchange for the photograph, sitting down beside him instead. you miss his eyebrows furrow slightly missing the comforting squeeze of your hand. a bittersweet smile dancing on your face, you stare at the photo, all words dying on your suddenly too heavy tongue. a photo of a past life, a happier time:  suguru’s exasperated expression contrasting his bright amethyst eyes, face fashioned in a pout as he was sandwiched obnoxiously in between you and satoru. a wild grin decorating your face, mischievous eyes closed in mid laughter at suguru’s grumbling, while satoru pulled bunny ears behind suguru.

“oh god, look at him.” you whisper pointing out suguru’s dark shorter hair when he first arrived at jujutsu tech. you almost forgot what he looked like before he – 

your eyes blink, you didn’t want to think about it. 

satoru scoffs, “i know, doesn’t he look like an idiot?” 

“remember how you’d make fun of him all the time? you were such a bully to him – he really hated you when we started.” you laugh sadly.  

“that’s not my fault, he was fucking asking for it! he kept calling me q-tip! or nepobaby!” he counters, betraying tenderness in his tone. “shut up, i know you liked it when he called you anything close to baby!” you quip back, face denouncing you in a soft grin. a heavy silence invades the intimate space between you two, his absence sitting in between you, his rightful spot now vacant.  suguru. you lean your head on satoru’s shoulder, his arm moving around you to settle at your waist instinctively. you look into his eyes reading him easily: i miss him too. 

suguru’s defection was still a sore spot in your mind. satoru still hasnt been able to say his name out loud, suguru’s name carrying too much weight. you suspected that satoru wanted to carry his best friend with him despite the heaviness, a sense of masochistic comfort. you hoped that he knew that you were always there for him when the time came, you still felt the hurt too. 

but there was a strange sort of solace that still lingered in his name. suguru’s memory was still soft if you focused but the pain caused by his name was still sharp and rough around the edges. when was the last time you and satoru spoke this openly about him?

the memory still hurt. a wound that would reopen at any given movement, unable to heal, cutting deeper as time went by. 

mercifully sensing the pounding of your heavy heart, satoru clears his throat and fishes out another photo in the messy pile. a photo of shoko and himself, a cigarette dancing on shoko’s lips, gojo looking at her in mid conversation. 

“ewww – look at you here.” you point out, wrinkling your nose, “this really wasnt your best haircut...” 

he scoffs, the twinkle in his eyes showing you his amusement.  “you’re the one who did it – ”

“oh fuck, right!” you laugh, thinking about the very first time satoru begged you to cut his hair – shoko was away on a rare mission–  yelping at you when you closed your eyes in nervousness, resulting in an uneven cut. you both remembered how shoko laughed so hard she cried when she saw him. you definitely didn’t cut his hair this time, admiring his soft locks and even trim. you move your generous hands to comb through his soft hair gently, enjoying the feeling of his undercut under your slow hands. he closes his eyes, a please sigh escaping his lips, tension immediately easing from his body.

“it’s better now though, hey? makes me even more handsome,” he teases, his eyes still closed. 

“nah, still ugly. brings out your buggy eyes. ‘m so glad you started wearing the blind fold.” you mutter, still playing with his hair absentmindedly. 

ignoring his whine, you laugh, “wow, shoko still looks amazing though.. look at her cute little cheeks! I forgot how she used to put pins in her hair like that.” previous annoyance disappearing instantly, satoru can’t help but grin back – he always liked your laugh. 

he watches while a strange far away expression infiltrates your face, picking up a photo, edges creased contrasting the vividness of his memory. shoko and suguru smiling at the camera, while you and satoru were in mid conversation smiling at each other. spring time, second year. 

“.. it looks like me and you haven’t really changed that much, hey?” he says softly, the fondness for you showing in his younger face all those years before.  

even when he didn’t ask, he knew that you would always be there. you were his constant. he didn’t know when he started seeing you in everything he did, if you could see his thoughts, you’d be able to see your smile reflecting back at you. your presence somehow simultaneously exciting him and putting him at ease. maybe it started when you stole his glasses in first year, or the countless detentions you both got in. surely, it must have been the night that suguru left. in the darkness he wasn’t sure who was holding who, your tears mixing with his as you clung to him in your sleep.

maybe it was when you showed up at megumi’s school when he first got into a fight even though you were in the middle of a mission last month, a fire in your eyes. or maybe it was when you comforted tsumiki when she came home upset over a fight with one of her friends. maybe it was in the way you talked her through it, rubbing her back gently while you listened to her through her teary words. or when you ate all his mochi yesterday, cheekily claiming “you said you’d share, satoru!” whenever it started, he knew that something different was blossoming into maturity in the past few months – something that he never knew could be a possibility –  let alone for someone like him. 

“we should take an updated photo, we never have photos of just us,” you decide, turning to face him fully. “my phone or yours?” he asks, eyes still the photo, breathing in the way you smiled at him all those years ago. unchanged. 

“mhm, yours.” you say as he digs his phone out of his back pocket. “i want a good one, ‘kay toru?? i dont need any more photos of you sticking your tongue out..” you mutter, scooching closer to him. “oy, come closer – you’re so far,” you whine, grabbing his forearm urging him to get closer for a better photo. 

“c’mere then..” he mutters, gently shuffling you so that you’re sitting in his lap, as you hum in content at the warmth of his skin against yours. he easily drowned you, this familiar place, his familiar embrace. yet this time you felt the tide shift, something softer, vulnerable – the calm waters after a storm.  you lean your head to his as you both smile for the camera as the shutter echoes through the room. 

moving impossibly closer to you, he turns his head towards you, his phone lay forgotten on the floor. sensing his stare you turn your head to his, eyes questioning his soft gaze. as the air grows thicker bursting with the weight of years of fondness and poorly hidden desires, your eyes flicker to the curve of his lips. breathing the same air as him, you feel light headed, drunk off the very presence of him.   

inching closer he feels his soft lips meet yours, a fluttering feeling, hesitant and foreign but firm and sure. you easily wind your arms around his neck, sighing as you pull him closer, jumping into the deep end when you’ve been wading in the shallows for years. he effortlessly maneuvers you to straddle his lap, large hands pressing against your back, pulling you closer to meld his heart to yours, his hands begging to memorize the feeling of you. 

too preoccupied drowning in him, you hesitantly break away from him to breathe, only to rest your forehead on his. grounding yourself in the feeling of his warm breath on your cheek, uneven and heavy, your erratic heartbeat threatens to break the fragile silence. the air grew hot and heavy, buzzing with anticipation and nerves.  satoru bumps his slender nose with your playfully, causing you to grin. a relieved smile dancing on his face in reply, a silent conversation dancing in his eyes, a celebration of his love, a proclamation of his devotion to you, an apology for waiting this long, an admission of forever. 

needing to feel more of him, you move your hand to cup his flushed cheek, the sweetness in his skin grounds you once more – satoru was always the question and the solution wound tightly into one. confessions of the past and future swirling in his blue, you meet the weight of his tender gaze like you were carrying the strongest’s life in your very hands. his skin burning with your touch, you greedily move to kiss him to soothe the ache, swallowing his smile in your greed. 

melting with the reassurance of his lips to yours like a signature on a previously forgotten love letter, you wonder how you lasted this long without his lips on yours. you bite back a pleased smile as he reciprocates eagerly, deepening the kiss, tongues dancing, his soft lips moving in tandem with a bruising promise to always be yours if you let him. when your hands weave through his hair, a dark purr escaping his throat, reverberating through your core. his arm grips you tightly as his other hand moves to settle at the nape of your neck, feeling your heart beat in sync through his flushed skin. 

breathlessly, with great effort two magnets part, your hands loosening your grip on his soft t shirt. breaths tangling together, drinking in each other. 

still intoxicated by the feeling of you, satoru can’t help but nuzzle into your warmth, his forehead finding yours once more. his eyes still on your swollen lips, evidence of his want, his mind already on the thought of kissing you again, like he would die without the feeling. “y’okay?” you mumble, heaving chest enjoying his touch. 

he chuckles at the absurdity of your question, you should know by now that he was always okay as long as you were with him – the only time that he feels he would get better is when you were there. 

“hey – don’t laugh…” you mutter suddenly embarrassed by his stare, a deeper blush finding a way onto your cheeks emphasizing your growing pout. laughing fully now, his strong arms bring you closer as they wind around your waist sweetly.

unable to resist, you lightly kiss his jawline as his wandering hands brush some hair out of your face. “hmph, you’re such a dick and after everything i do for you too…” you playfully whisper without malice, leaning into his broad chest, rolling your eyes.

“mm.. how should i make it up to you?” he mumbles, slender hand tilting your chin up to force your gaze to look at him. as you bravely meet his tender gaze, you notice that something different was in his eyes.

“damn, i gotta help you with that one too?” you tease, giggle blooming in your throat as he kisses our nose gently. “well… i have a few ideas.” he hums, moving to kiss you fully, slow and sweet savouring you. “you always do…” you mutter, eyes on his grinning lips. 

perhaps now he could answer suguru’s question he thought as you move to rest your head on his shoulder. satoru knew he wanted you. holding you in his arms now, feeling your shy smile on his neck –  he knew that you were something good.

requests are open a/n: they did not make it to the meeting lol ngl this request was tough, but i loved the challenge of writing my first smoochie smoochie scene.

dividers by @/adornedwithlight

[scarletwinterxx]

the apartments we shared - yoon jeonghan imagine

hellooo ~ i had some free time so here i am😊

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(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

You never thought you’d see him again.

Not like this, anyway.

The call came a week ago. A gruff, emotionless voice on the other end.

Jeonghan.

His name alone was enough to send a wave of emotions crashing over you, emotions you thought you’d locked away.

“I need you to come by next weekend,” he said, after a brief, awkward silence

“For what?” you asked, trying to keep your tone neutral, though your grip on the phone tightened

“The lease. They need both of our signatures since it’s a joint agreement.”

Right. The apartment. The one that had once been your shared sanctuary, filled with late-night conversations and lazy mornings. Now it was just another loose end to tie up.

“Fine. When?”

“Saturday. Noon.”

And that was it. No pleasantries. No apologies. Just business. Typical Jeonghan.

Or, at least, the Jeonghan he became after everything fell apart.

Mingyu insisted on driving you that Saturday, despite your protests.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked, peering over the steering wheel with that concerned puppy-dog look he always gave you when he didn’t believe a word you said.

“I’m good”

“You’re acting like you’re fine, but I know you’re not,” he said, glancing over at you as you fidgeted with the strap of your bag

“I am fine,” you insisted, staring out the window

Mingyu sighed. “You’ve been a wreck all week. Don’t lie to me. You’re not over him.”

You turned to him, your eyes narrowing. “That’s not true. I’m doing fine.”

“Sure,” Mingyu replied, unconvinced. “But just in case, if he so much as looks at you the wrong way, call me. I’ll come in and punch him in that smug face of his.”

You let out a half-hearted laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe. But I’m serious.” He parked the car and turned to you, his expression softening. “Look, I just don’t want you to come out of this even more hurt. Be careful, okay?”

You nodded, took a deep breath, and stepped out of the car

The moment you walked in, it hit you. The faint scent of lavender from the air freshener he insisted on using, the familiar arrangement of furniture you once picked out together.

And there he was, standing near the kitchen counter, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans.

He looked the same and yet different. His hair was longer, brushing against his cheekbones, and his posture seemed more guarded, as though he was bracing himself for something.

“You’re late,” he said, his voice flat,

“Traffic,” you lied, though you’d been sitting in Mingyu’s car for ten minutes, trying to summon the courage to walk in.

He gestured toward the table. “Let’s just get this over with.”

You swallowed hard, sitting down across from him. The table felt like a chasm between you, one filled with unspoken words and unresolved tension.

You picked up the pen and scanned the document, signing your name with quick, decisive strokes.

“Your turn,” you said, pushing the papers toward him

He picked up the pen but hesitated, his fingers tightening around it. “You sure about this?” he asked, his voice quieter now

You blinked, taken aback. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

He looked at you then, really looked at you, and for a brief moment, you saw something flicker in his eyes.

Regret, maybe, or longing.

But it was gone as quickly as it came.

“No reason,” he muttered, signing his name and sliding the papers back to you

As you collected your things, you couldn’t help but blurt out, “Why didn’t you just send these through the landlord? Why call me?”

He froze, his hand lingering on the edge of the table. “Figured it’d be faster this way.”

“Faster,” you repeated, your voice laced with bitterness. “Right.”

And with that, you walked out, the sound of the door closing behind you echoing in your chest.

You walked out of that apartment feeling more hollow than you expected. Mingyu was waiting for you outside, leaning against the car with a knowing look.

“Well?”

“Done,” you said simply, sliding into the passenger seat

“That’s it?” Mingyu pressed, eyebrows raised

“What else did you expect?” you snapped, feeling the weight of his gaze.

“I don’t know—maybe something real? Did he even say anything?”

“No.”

Mingyu sighed deeply but didn’t push further, starting the car in silence.

Later that evening, Jeonghan found himself sitting in Seungcheol’s apartment, nursing a can of beer. Seungcheol was sprawled out on the couch across from him, his arms crossed, a disapproving frown etched onto his face.

“You’re an idiot,” Seungcheol said bluntly

Jeonghan rolled his eyes. “Nice to see you too.”

“No, I’m serious. You saw her today, didn’t you?”

Jeonghan took a sip of his beer, avoiding his best friend’s gaze.

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“And nothing. We signed the papers. It’s done.”

Seungcheol let out a frustrated groan, sitting up. “You can’t keep doing this, man. You can’t keep pretending like you don’t care.”

“It’s not that simple, Seungcheol.”

“Isn’t it? You broke up with her because you thought she’d be better off without you. Fine. Stupid reason, but fine. But do you really think she’s better off now? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you’re both miserable.”

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” Jeonghan muttered, running a hand through his hair.

“And now?” Seungcheol pressed, leaning forward. “What do you think now?”

Jeonghan didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stared down at the beer in his hand, his thoughts a jumbled mess. “I don’t know,” he admitted finally. “I don’t know if I can fix it.”

“Of course you can,” Seungcheol said, his tone softening. “But only if you stop being a coward and actually talk to her. Tell her the truth. Tell her how you feel.”

Jeonghan looked up at his friend, doubt and hope warring in his eyes. “You think she’d even listen?”

Seungcheol smirked. “She loved you once, didn’t she? That doesn’t just go away.”

A week later, Jeonghan finally worked up the courage to text you. His message was simple, almost tentative, yet it carried the weight of everything he had left unsaid.

Jeonghan: “Can we talk?”

You stared at the screen for what felt like forever, your thumb hovering over the keyboard. A dozen responses ran through your mind, but none of them felt right.

Finally, you typed back, trying to mask the emotions threatening to surface.

You: “What’s there to talk about?”

His response came almost instantly, as though he had been waiting for yours.

Jeonghan: “Everything.”

You told yourself you shouldn’t go. That it wouldn’t change anything. But against your better judgment, you agreed to meet him. He chose the café where you had your first date—an unmistakable choice that sent a pang through your chest. Did he still remember the way he held your hand across that very table, the way he laughed when you nervously spilled your coffee?

When you arrived, he was already there, sitting at a corner table with a coffee in front of him. His hair, longer now, fell into his eyes as he glanced up and met your gaze. He stood quickly, his nervous energy radiating across the room.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice careful, as if afraid he might scare you off.

“Hi,” you replied, sitting across from him and clasping your hands together tightly on the table.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The air between you was thick with tension, memories hanging unspoken in the space between.

“Thanks for coming,” he finally said, breaking the silence. He ran a hand through his hair, a habit you recognized from years of knowing him. “I wasn’t sure you would.”

“Why am I here, Jeonghan?” you asked, your tone more impatient than you intended. “What do you want?”

He flinched slightly but didn’t back down.

“I wanted to see you. To say what I should have said months ago.”

“And what’s that?” You raised an eyebrow

He took a deep breath, his eyes meeting yours with a vulnerability you hadn’t seen in him in a long time. “I made a mistake. Breaking up with you—it was the biggest mistake of my life.”

“You don’t get to say that now. Not after everything.”

“I know,” he said quickly, his voice tinged with desperation. “And I don’t expect you to forgive me right away. But I need you to know the truth. I thought I was doing what was best for you. I thought… I don’t know, I thought I was holding you back. That you deserved more than me. And instead of talking to you about it, I ran. Like a coward.”

Your throat tightened as his words sank in. “You decided for me,” you said, your voice trembling. “You didn’t even give me a choice. You just left.”

His face fell, the guilt in his eyes almost too much to bear. “I know. And I hate myself for it every day. I thought I was protecting you, but I was just selfish. I didn’t want you to resent me for holding you back someday. But I see now that all I did was hurt you... and myself.”

You looked away, blinking back the sting of tears. “

You don’t get to just come back and say that like it fixes everything. Like it erases the months I spent trying to figure out what I did wrong.”

“I’m not trying to erase anything,” he said, leaning forward, his voice cracking. “I know I can’t. I just… I couldn’t stay silent anymore. I couldn’t keep pretending I’m okay without you.”

A tear slipped down your cheek despite your best efforts to stay composed. You quickly wiped it away, but he noticed. “Why now?” you asked. “Why are you saying this now?”

He hesitated, his hands gripping the edge of the table. “Because I can’t live like this anymore. Seungcheol’s been on my case for months, telling me I’m an idiot for letting you go. And he’s right. I am an idiot. But I’m also the idiot who loves you—still. Always.”

His confession hung in the air, raw and unguarded. You searched his face, looking for any sign that he wasn’t being sincere, but all you saw was the Jeonghan you used to know. The one who made you laugh until your sides hurt, who memorized your coffee order, who kissed you like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

“I don’t know if I can trust you again,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “You broke me, Jeonghan.”

His face crumpled, and he reached across the table, hesitating before his hand hovered over yours. “I know. And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that you can. If you let me. Please, just let me try.”

The tears you’d been holding back finally spilled over, and you covered your face with your hands. For a long moment, you couldn’t speak, the weight of his words settling over you like a blanket. When you finally looked up, his expression was one of pure hope, tempered by fear.

“What if we’re just setting ourselves up to fail again?” you asked, your voice trembling.

“We won’t,” he said firmly. “Because I’ve learned what it’s like to lose you, and I’m never making that mistake again.”

You let out a shaky breath, your heart warring with your mind. Every logical part of you screamed to walk away, to protect yourself from more heartbreak. But then you looked at him—really looked at him—and saw the man you fell in love with, the man who was baring his soul to you.

Slowly, you nodded. “Okay. I’ll give you a chance. But don’t waste it.”

His face broke into a smile, the kind you hadn’t seen in what felt like forever. “I won’t. I promise.”

Six months later, you and Jeonghan stood side by side in a new apartment, the keys dangling from his fingers.

The walls were bare, the furniture sparse, but it felt like a fresh start.

“You ready?” he asked, turning to you with a grin.

“Ready,” you said, smiling back.

As you stepped inside together, his hand found yours, and for the first time in a long time, everything felt right. This wasn’t about starting over; it was about moving forward—together.

[orions-choker]

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Serial Killers, Murder, Obsessions, Yandere tendencies, more to be added.

Chapter Eight

“You really think right now is the most important time to be taking me on this date?” Y/N asked with a soft huff as Kirk’s hand rested in the crook of her elbow, guiding her down the cracked pavement. The streets were dead as usual lately. She missed back in high school when things were lively downtown, filled with raucous laughter from teenagers and the disgruntled mumblings of the annoyed elderly. She felt almost stupid being out here.

Kirk smiled down at her, her eyes catching on the small sharp crooked tooth that nestled between his canine and front teeth. A flush warmed her cheeks, he was impossibly cute. “Y/N you can’t completely shut down your life, who knows how long it's going to be until they catch this creep you can't hide forever.” He said in an attempt to be encouraging. But she could, she could hide forever if she tried hard enough probably. “And I promised you I was taking you on a date.”

She could crawl into her parents bed, nestled between them the way she used to when she was six with her dog in her arms, have them protect her from the cruel intentions of the world outside. Hell based on the way the streets looked right now that's what most people were doing. Kirk seemed ever fearless though, she couldn't tell if she was impressed or unsettled by the way he just…didn’t seem to care about all of this. “Yeah well, going to see a horror movie right now seems like a bit of a tone deaf date idea don’t you think?” She asked, her eyes wearily glazed over a missing person poster tacked to one of the telephone poles. It was one of many, this girl had been found…she supposed her parents didn’t have the strength to come take it down.

The grip Kirk had on her arm tightened slightly as they approached the movie theatre. “Well that’s why we're going in the middle of the day, won't be scary that way.” He said nonchalantly, frowning playfully at her. “It’s a creature feature anyways, not remotely the same.” He waved his hand dismissively as he approached the teller and began purchasing their tickets.

“That’s not what I meant.” Y/N mumbled wearily as Kirk shoved an oversized popcorn into her hands. She could appreciate his carefree attitude only in the sense that it distracted her. But she was getting uncomfortable with his increasing lack of care for the situation at hand. She remembered when she first approached him in his backyard just a few weeks ago, how mature he had seemed, the way he had expressed his condolences to the victims.

She was coming to realize he was a lot less mature than he acted, she found it hard to believe that he was older than her. It was something about the way he was always smiling at her, always laughing under his breath like there was an inside joke she wasn’t in on. To top it off, his insistence that they go on this date worried her. She liked Kirk, she liked him a lot actually but dating was the last thing on her mind.

He had simply ignored her protests as they shuffled into the dark theatre. It was empty and cold, that didn't surprise her. Who in their right mind went to see a horror movie in the middle of your neighbors being slaughtered like cattle. Her and Kirk she supposed, though she wasn’t quite sure either of them were in their right mind at this point. Kirk seemed to flip on the drop of a dime between overwhelmingly playful to almost scary. She hadn’t missed the possessive primal look in his eyes when he didn’t think she was looking.

Initially it had excited her, made her feel a bit warm and fuzzy to think he was that interested in her. “Relax baby, I got you, remember?” He leaned over to whisper in her ear, noticing the tension in her shoulders. He didn’t really need to whisper no one else was in here. Maybe she was a little messed up in the head in the fact that it seemed to comfort her. She leaned her head against his shoulder as the lights from the screen began to illuminate their faces.

Suddenly Kirk's hand was on her cheek, guiding her face up towards him as he pressed his lips to hers. Her whole body went limp as she kissed him back. She had quickly grown addicted to these metallic cigarette flavored kisses. She pushed up the arm rest in between their seats that had been separating them as she leaned further into him. Yeah she was messed up, making out with him in this empty theatre to the backdrop of blood curdling screams and monstrous growls. She pulled back with a soft gasp. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this here, pretty sure they have cameras in here.” She whispered.

Kirk was looking at her with a flush to his cheeks, his eyes dark and lidded. There was an almost aggressive curl to his fingers against her hip. “What, it’s not like there's anything illegal about kissing.” He grunted softly as he tugged her closer. “That's all this is baby, it's okay c’mere.” His lips ghosted across hers once more. She couldn’t deny the thick sweet desperation lacing his voice. Y/N climbed into his lap a little awkwardly, restricted by the size of the theatre seats. Her hands cupped the back of his neck as she kissed him fervently.

His fingers dug almost painfully into her skin as he slid his hands up beneath her sweater, his blunt nails leaving indents in her flesh. She hissed softly against his lips but didn’t dare pull away. She almost choked as Kirk pushed his tongue into her mouth and down her throat. A soft needy whine coiled up from her throat, drowned between the soft smacking of their lips together. Her lips were swollen and bruised by the time the end credits to the movie rolled. The only thing interrupting the two of them was the brightening of the theatre lights.

Hesitantly Y/N crawled off him, leaning down to rub at her cramping calves. She watched as Kirk not so subtly adjusted himself in his jeans, his hand slipping beneath the waistband to tug his hardened length up flat against his stomach so it was less noticeable. It was lewd, the movements and her mouth went dry. “You should wash your hands after touching your dick.” She chastised him instead.

He blinked at her and laughed, a sweet airy sound. She was completely enamored with him in spite of his…concerning behavior. “You serious Y/N?” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders as they left the empty theatre back out into the lobby. “Did you wash your mouth out after you sucked me off the other night?” He whispered teasingly to her.

“What!” She sputtered, looking up at him with wide eyes. An embarrassed flush rising to her cheeks. “I- Yes I did!” She protested softly as he continued to laugh at her. “Oh my god Kirk you can’t just say things like that.” She covered her face in embarrassment, as if the two pathetic workers in the building could possibly hear the conversation they were having right now.

There was a soft kiss planted on her temple as Kirk’s laughter died down. ”Jesus Y/N calm down you look you’re about to combust.” He shook his head, his wild dark curls bouncing softly. “You don’t have to be so shy around me, as cute as it is.” He pressed her closer against his side as they made their way back to his car. “How about we get takeout and head back to my place.”

As Y/N slid into his passenger seat she eyes his glove box wearily. She wondered if that knife was still in there. The silver gleam still fresh in her mind…why did he keep that in his car. Self defense seemed highly unlikely who keeps a butcher's knife for self defense. Her stomach twisted uncomfortably. “I don’t know Kirk, I think my parents want me back home, I’ve been at yours all weekend.” She sighed. Since that phone call two nights ago she had been spending the night at Kirks. Her parents were less than pleased but were comforted by the fact at least she was right next door, they couldn't really do much to stop her anyways.

Kirk had a tight grip on her thigh as he started the car. “You don’t have to spend the night again, just…hang out with me a little longer. This is a date is it not?” He grunted, he was trying to keep it playful but she could hear the genuine aggravated tone in his voice. This was a date she supposed, a bit of a…odd one. She hadn’t even really agreed to it, kirk had sort of just woken her up and insisted she come with him.

“Yeah, okay.” Y/N relented with a soft sigh as she relaxed beneath his touch, his fingers grinding into the soft flesh of her thigh through her jeans. His touches were always so hard and aggressive, his kisses soft and fleeting. It was a balance she was struggling to figure out. “I think I just want a drink, I don’t have much of an appetite lately.” She rested her head back against the seat.

It was hard to miss the way Kirk's face lit up as she agreed to stick around him a bit longer. She didn’t really pay attention to where he had stopped to get food. Her eyes were trained on his figure as he disappeared into the shop. Quickly she leaned forward popping open the glove box. There it was tucked in the back beneath his insurance papers. Her hand gripped the handle gingerly as she tugged it forward to get a better look, It was discolored along the razor sharp edge, it almost looked rusty.

A sick feeling settled its way into the pit of her stomach. She flipped it over a couple of times in her hand. Why was…Her eyes caught sight of something else, an earring? She pushed the knife back beneath the papers, nestled into its poorly concealed hiding place. She pinched the silver hoop between her fingers and closed the glove box once more. Kirk has his ears pierced sure but this was unmistakably a woman's earring. A large glimmering silver hoop, she laid it flat in her palm as she stared down at it.

It wasn’t hers, she knew that much. Kirk’s moms maybe? She didn’t ever recall seeing the woman wear anything quite like this before though. An ex fling, a random hookup? For some reason that thought made her stomach twist even more uncomfortably. Why did Kirk have this, why did he have that knife. She jumped lightly as she heard the driver door open again, her hand quickly clasping around the earring as she looked up at Kirk with a surprised smile.

“Woah, jumpy much?” He teased her, placing the plastic takeout bags in her lap. Her heart was hammering wildly beneath her ribcage, she had almost been caught snooping again, she could remember the way he snapped at her when she opened his glovebox the last time. “You good?” he asked a little softer this time, noticing the distant look on her face.

Quickly Y/N shook her head, snapping herself out of the daze. “Oh yeah I’m fine, sorry just zoned out while you were gone.” She lied quickly as she smiled brightly at him. She could feel the silver hoop burning against her skin, reminding her of its presence in her fist. It felt heavy, like it carried the weight of hundreds of sins, she couldn’t let go of it. Discreetly she slipped it into the front pocket of her jeans. “Thanks for the milkshake.”

Kirk hummed and nodded. “Mhm, got you Oreo, your favorite.” He smiled, his hand returning to its rightful place on her thigh, like it belonged there, like he owned it. Oreo was her favorite, she didn’t know how he knew that though. She was almost positive it had never come up. It was almost an undetectable slip up, but she was hyper aware. Something was seriously wrong, with all of this, with Kirk. She should have been scared, should have pried a little further into him before she had gotten so comfortable with his presence. But instead she relaxed under his touch and looked up at him softly and she smiled.

“Yeah, it is my favorite.”

[emjayewrites]

spin bout u • aurélien tchouaméni request

REQUEST: from @whoevenisthiz — I was wondering if could write me an Aurèlien fic with a bit of a toxic vibe? Like, not an established couple, but more of an intense, messy push-and-pull dynamic—kind of raunchy too, coz you know how I am 😏. I’m not too picky about how it ends; I just think it’d be really cool to see your take on something like this! Thank you in advance Emjay xxx

WARNINGS: toxic!aurelien, cursing, smut. 18+/minors dni

TAGLIST: @trenterprise, @sucredreamer, @pepfectionary, @irishmanwhore, @certifiedlesbianbaddie, @perfecttrashface, @deonn-jaelle, @f1-football-fiend, @julescpu, @peyiswriting, @2serenity0, @greedyjudge2, @queenshikongo3

A/N: Send requests!

The winter air bit at Remy's cheeks as she turned the corner to her apartment building, her boots crunching on the salt-covered sidewalk. Atlanta's usual humidity had given way to an unusual cold snap, the kind that made her miss the warmth of summer. She spotted the sleek black car first, its glossy paint reflecting the glow of the streetlights. Then her eyes fell on him—leaning against the driver's side door, arms crossed, wearing a thick gray Nike sweatsuit with a hood pulled up over his head.

Aurélien.

He looked every bit like trouble, his sweatsuit hung off his frame just right, his sneakers impossibly clean against the slush. He was doing that thing he always did—biting his bottom lip as his gaze flicked up and down her body with deliberate slowness, like he was daring her to react.

Remy stopped dead in her tracks, her grip tightening on her bag, believing him to be some mirage, but unfortunately he was really there. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

Aurélien smirked, pushing off the car with lazy confidence. "Miss me?"

She rolled her eyes so hard it almost hurt. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Visiting an old friend," he said simply, his French accent curling around each word like a velvet ribbon, thicker than she remembered. She scoffed at his response. "Ah, but we were never really friends, were we?"

"We weren't really anything," she shot back, even as her heart betrayed her with an irritating flutter.

"That's not how I remember it." His eyes glinted with something unreadable in the streetlight.

"Your memory's selective then." She started walking toward her building's entrance. "What are you doing here? Don't you have a match or something?"

"Postponed." He fell into step beside her, matching her pace easily. "Figured I'd check in on you."

"Check in?" She barked a laugh. "You mean spin the block?"

His smirk widened as he sucked his teeth. "Call it what you want. You gonna let me in, or are we doing this out here?"

"I haven't decided yet," she shot back, even as her feet betrayed her, carrying her closer. "You could have texted first."

"I did. You didn't answer."

Her lips pressed into a thin line. "Maybe that was a hint."

Aurélien straightened up, his hands slipping into his pockets as he took a small step closer. The familiar scent of his cologne mixed with the crisp winter air made her head spin slightly.

"Or maybe," he said, his voice dropping lower, "you were waiting for me to prove I still give a damn."

"You're so full of yourself," she muttered, but there was less bite in her tone than she intended.

"And yet, here we are." His eyes softened just enough to make her defenses waver. "Can we go inside? It's cold as fuck out here."

She stared at him for a long moment, debating whether to leave him standing there or give in to whatever this was. Her pride told her to walk away, but curiosity—and something else she wasn't ready to name—won out.

The tension in her apartment was thick as she dropped her designer bag on the counter and kicked off her boots. Aurélien stood by the door, his hands still in his pockets, trying to play it cool but his eyes following her every move.

"You didn't have to come all this way," she said, keeping her tone casual as she grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.

"Didn't I?"

"It's been months, Aurélien." She took a long sip of water, trying to ignore the intensity of his gaze. "Why now?"

"Maybe I missed you."

"Don't."

"Don't what? Be honest?"

Remy set her water down harder than necessary. "You can't just show up here and say things like that."

"You watch my matches," he said suddenly.

That made her head cock in confusion. "Excuse me?"

His smile was knowing. "Your likes on Twitter show up, you know. Three in the morning your time, watching Madrid games."

"Insomnia," she said flatly. "Your boring-ass matches put me right to sleep." Remy let out an irritated huff. "You should leave."

He moved into her space, not touching but close enough that she could smell his cologne. "If you really wanted me gone, you wouldn't have let me up."

"Maybe I just want to tell you off properly." She tilted her chin up defiantly. "Private event, you know?"

"Maybe," he stepped closer, his eyes darkening, "you missed this too."

"This?" She gestured between them. "What's 'this'? The part where you show up whenever you feel like it and expect me to just fall in line? Or the part where you disappear for months when things get too real?"

Something flickered in his expression – a crack in the smooth façade. "That's not fair."

"Neither is showing up at my apartment in fucking Atlanta when you should be in fucking Madrid." She crossed her arms. "What happened? Your usual rotation got boring?"

"You want to talk about running?" His voice dropped lower, an edge creeping in. "How about those unanswered messages? Those declined calls? The way you acted like what happened between us was nothing?"

"Because it was nothing," she lied through her teeth. "A few weeks of fun. Ancient history."

He laughed, but it wasn't amused. "You're still a terrible liar, Remy."

"And you're still way too convinced of your own importance."

The air between them grew heavier with each passing second. She hated how well he could still read her, how easily he could slip past her carefully constructed walls.

"What do you want from me?" she asked finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I want to talk, bébé."

"Talk?" she repeated, incredulous. "You flew across the Atlantic to ‘talk’? Nigga, kindly go to hell."

Instead of backing away like a normal person, Aurélien had the audacity to smile, as per usual. He loved the toxicity between them just as much as she loved when he—

Don’t do that, Remy. Not right now, girl.

"You know that you miss this, mon bébé. Or do I have to remind you? I mean I just came here to talk but if you want…"

"I thought we were done with this," she said, but her voice lacked conviction.

"Do you really believe that?" His hand reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Because I don’t."

She searched his face for any sign of the old Aurélien—the one who kept everything surface-level, who never let anyone too close. Instead, she found something new: hope, mixed with a touch of fear that matched her own.

Her breath hitched, and before she could overthink it, she grabbed the front of his sweatshirt and yanked him down into a kiss.

The rest of their conversation dissolved into heat and frustration and the kind of chemistry that always seemed to burn too hot.

Aurélien’s hands roamed her body like he was trying to memorize every curve, every dip. He backed her up against the counter, his lips moving to her neck as her fingers tugged at his sweatshirt.

"Remy," he murmured against her skin, his voice thick with want.

"Don’t think this means anything," she said, her nails dragging down his chest as she arched into him. "It just been awhile."

He pulled back just enough to smirk down at her, his eyes dark and teasing. "Keep telling yourself that."

She shoved him, but he only laughed, his hands gripping her waist as he lifted her onto the counter.

"Aurélien—"

"Say my name again," he interrupted, his lips brushing hers before trailing lower.

"Don’t push your luck," she shot back, though her voice wavered.

He didn’t answer, but the way he looked at her, like she was the only thing he needed in that moment, was almost too much. And Remy knew that by the night’s end, he will have her screaming his name multiple times.

When he finally slid his hands under her thighs, pulling her closer with a possessive grip, all she could do was hold on tight and hope she didn’t regret this later.

Remy’s hands tugged at the hem of his sweatshirt, yanking it over his head with an impatient huff. "Why do you always wear so many damn layers?" she muttered, her fingers already working at the waistband of his sweatpants.

"Maybe I like making you work for it," he quipped, biting his bottom lip as she shoved the fabric down his hips, revealing the sharp lines of his abs and the curve of his erection straining against his boxers.

She didn’t dignify him with a response, instead pulling her own top over her head and tossing it aside. His gaze immediately dropped to her chest, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip.

"You got a new tattoo?" he asked, his voice dropping a notch as his fingers brushed the delicate ink just below her collarbone—a minimalist design of a crescent moon intertwined with flowers.

"Noticed that, huh?" she said, her voice light, but her breath hitched as his lips replaced his fingers, pressing a warm, open-mouthed kiss over the tattoo.

"You always did like pretty things," he murmured, his tongue tracing the curve of the ink. "Guess I shouldn’t be surprised."

His hands slid down to her waist, gripping the waistband of her leggings. With one swift motion, he tugged them down, leaving her bare except for a pair of black lace panties. He let out a low hum of approval as his hands trailed along her thighs, his thumbs brushing the soft skin.

When he dropped to his knees, Remy’s breath caught. Aurélien’s eyes locked onto hers, a wicked smirk curling his lips. "I missed this," he said, pressing a kiss to her inner thigh. "Missed the way you taste."

"Then stop talking and do something about it," she shot back, her voice more breathless than she’d like.

He chuckled, low and rough, before pulling her panties down with deliberate slowness. The cool air hit her skin just as his warm breath followed, and then his tongue was on her, licking a long, slow stripe up her center.

Remy’s hands flew to his hair, her fingers tangling in the curls as he worked her with maddening precision. His tongue teased and explored, alternating between broad strokes and focused flicks that had her arching her back and moaning his name.

"Aurélien—oh, my god."

"Say it again," he murmured against her, his voice vibrating against her most sensitive spot.

She did, over and over, her voice trembling as he pushed her closer to the edge. But just as the tension coiled tight enough to snap, he pulled back, leaving her gasping in frustration.

"What the hell—"

"Where do you want me to fuck you?" he interrupted, his voice dark and commanding.

Her mind scrambled to keep up, her body still throbbing from the near-release. "The couch," she managed, her voice breathless.

He grinned, standing and pulling her with him. "Good choice."

Aurélien led her to the couch, his hands firm on her hips as he bent her over the armrest. His lips found her spine, trailing kisses down her back until he reached her ass. He spread her open with his hands, groaning softly.

"Fuck, Remy," he muttered, his voice tinged with reverence and hunger. He spat on her, the slick sound followed by the warmth of his tongue as he devoured her from behind.

Remy moaned, her fingers digging into the couch cushions as he worked her over, his grip on her hips bruising. "You’re such an asshole," she gasped, her words dissolving into a whimper as he sucked on her clit.

"And you’re still letting me eat your pussy," he shot back, his voice muffled.

She didn’t have a response, not when his tongue was doing sinful things that made her toes curl. Just when she thought she couldn’t take any more, he pulled back again, his hands sliding down her thighs.

"You miss me, don’t you?" he asked, his tone mocking but with an edge of sincerity.

"No," she said, though the breathiness of her voice made it sound more like a lie.

"You do," he said, pressing the tip of his dick against her folds. He teased her entrance, tapping the head against her clit before sliding it through her slickness. "You missed this. Missed me. Admit it."

She threw a glare over her shoulder. "Fuck you."

"That’s the plan." He pushed into her slowly, filling her inch by inch until her head dropped forward, a soft curse spilling from her lips.

"Aurélien—"

"Yeah," he said, gripping her hips as he started to move. "Say my name, Remy. Let me hear how much you missed me."

Her response was a series of moans, her body meeting his thrusts as he set a punishing rhythm. His fingers dug into her skin, anchoring her in place as he drove into her, his dirty talk pouring out like a confession.

"Feel so good, baby," he murmured, his voice thick. "So tight. So wet. Fuck, I’m not letting you go again. You hear me?"

She whimpered, her body arching into him. "You’re so—"

"Say it," he interrupted, slamming into her harder. "Say my name, Remy."

She cried out, her voice trembling as she obeyed, the sound of his name like a prayer on her lips.

His movements grew erratic, his breath hot against her shoulder as he leaned over her, his chest brushing her back. "Where do you want it?" he asked, his voice rough and urgent.

"Inside me," she answered without hesitation.

He groaned, his hips stuttering as he thrust deep, spilling into her with a final, shuddering moan.

Aurélien’s weight settled over her as they caught their breath, their bodies tangled together on her couch. The quiet hum of the city outside seeped through the windows, but neither of them moved, too lost in the afterglow to care about anything else.

Remy trailed her fingers lazily across his shoulder, tracing the faint scars and ridges she’d come to memorize. Her mind was a jumble of satisfaction and irritation—the two emotions he always managed to pull out of her in equal measure.

Aurélien shifted, his lips brushing against her temple as he murmured, "You’re quiet."

"That’s called peace," she said, her tone dry. "Something I had before you decided to drop in uninvited."

He chuckled softly, his hand sliding down her side to rest on her hip, possessive even now. "You didn’t seem too upset a few minutes ago."

She rolled her eyes, though the flush on her cheeks betrayed her. "Momentary lapse in judgment."

"Is that what we’re calling it?" He shifted, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at her, his smirk firmly in place.

Remy swatted at his chest, trying not to smile. "Don’t you have a plane to catch or something? A very long one back to Madrid, preferably."

"I’ll be in Atlanta for three more days," he said, his voice taking on that infuriatingly confident tone again.

"Lucky me."

" Very," he said, brushing his thumb across her bottom lip. "Saint Bene. Eight tomorrow."

She sighed, tilting her head to glare at him. "You’re relentless, you know that?"

His grin widened, and he leaned down to kiss her once more, slow and unhurried, as though he had all the time in the world. When he pulled back, his dark eyes held hers, amusement and sincerity mingling there.

"I’ll see you tomorrow."

Remy groaned as he rolled off the couch and started gathering his clothes. She stayed sprawled where she was, her body still humming from his touch, even as her mind screamed at her to push him away.

When the door clicked shut behind him, she sat up and reached for her phone.

A text came through almost immediately: "Goodnight, ma belle. Sleep well."

Her fingers hesitated over the screen before typing back: "The audacity you have is astronomical. "

His response came just as quickly: "You love it though. Don’t forget to wear something nice."

Remy stared at the phone, letting her head fall back against the couch with a groan. She already knew she was going to dinner tomorrow. Already knew exactly what dress she’d wear.

"Fuck," she muttered into the empty apartment, finally admitting defeat.

That’s how it always was with them—a constant push and pull, a dance on the edge of something they both refused to name.

[romanarose]

Safe With Me

Eddie Brock x fem!reader (Some Venom x reader)

Join my taglist : Masterlist

Buy Me A Coffee : Kofi : Go Fund Me

Summary: You open up to Eddie about being sexually assaulted. He takes care of it.

Warnings: mentions of past sexual violence. Actually literal violence lol but its okay because he's a bad guy. talking about how hard it is to report and victim blaming.

dividers by @kodaswrld

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

Eddie held you close on the couch, letting you tell you're story the way you wanted to. You sat straddled on his lap, resting your head on his shoulder because you said this made you feel extra safe. Like he was all around you. Sometimes, if things were extra rough, venom would come out like a blanket of sorts around you, wrapping you up in his warmth. Today, you thought it might be overwhelming.

Eddie knew something had happened to you, the way you were skiddish when you first started dating. And not that he was complaining, but it was a little odd to wait 2 months to have sex. Still, that was your choice and you were worth waiting.

He wasn't an idiot, he could read the signs in your behavior, so he made sure you're first time together was filled with the most explicate consent you could dream of, and was always conscious of your non-verbal ques in bed. Eddie liked to think he was always the kind of guy to pay attention to that, but with you, he was extra certain.

As he got to know you, you made passing references of a bad past, and he let you know he was ready to listen when you were ready to talk, but you were a private person and wanted to wait. You and him talked about exes, and nothing stood out.

Finally, a few months in, you and him were having a movie night. Rewatching your favorite Disney princess movie Eddie was nice enough to indulge you in and Venom was thoroughly enjoying, when you pause it.

"Can I talk to you?"

At first Eddie thought you were about to dump him, but when you looked at him with sad eyes, he knew it was something more serious.

You sniffle against his wet sleeve. "That's it, I guess..." You said as you finish telling the story. "I know, *sniff* i should've reported it but... I dunno this was when 50 Shades was coming out and I was afraid he'd say I just liked it r-rough..." A fresh little bought of tears come, and Eddie is quick to rub your back in comfort.

"Ah, shit, hey now... I know it ain't like that..." He presses a gentle kiss to your hair. "We believe you, baby. Trust me, I'm not tryna scare no one away from reporting, but man... it can be fucking brutal."

You nod against him. "And, and I was just barely having sex, you know? The idea of a stranger doing the rape kit, having to tell a hundred different people what happened knowing they don't believe me... and I couldn't really prove I'd said no... and god, having to tell my parents?!?! I couldn't do it Eddie! i just couldn't do it!"

"Shhhh, shhhh... it's okay, I know, I know... you made the best choice for yourself."

You sit up, rubbing your red and puffy eyes. "Now I see colleges have this thing, well, some of them, the You Have Options Program where you can report and choose the level. Like if you want to report but not press charges, or you aren't sure if you want to press charges but they can gather evidence... or maybe you just want something on record incase they offend again, you know?"

"That's good, that's real good baby. i think they'll help a lot of people." As a journalist, Eddie had reported on many rape cases, or times people had tried to cover up sexual abuse of different kinds. he'd seen many young girls crying, expressing the same feelings you had. He knew better than to say 'it's not your fault' even if he still had the urge. Instead, he thumbed away a tear as you looked down at him. "We believe you, we don't think any differently of you, okay? We're here to help you."

You smile at him, fondness in your eyes. "Thanks for listening, Edide. And Venom." You lean down and give him a chaste kiss on his plush lips. "I love you."

"I love you too."

The next day...

Eddie is furiously typing on his laptop while you're at work.

"Okay, so she said college, he went to college with her."

Venom excitedly shouts out the name of your old school, happy he remembered, but Eddie shook his head, frustrated. "That's a big fucking school buddy, we need to narrow this down." he pulled up school records. "She said they were in theater, right?"

"YES! AND HE WAS IN HER SPANSIH CLASS!"

"Right! Fuck yeah! and she took Spanish her freshman year because she wanted to 'get it out of the way'. Okay I can narrow down the year, look up students who took Spanish that semester... then i just gott pull up the theater pamphlet... she said he was an actor... alright, now we just gotta cross reference the names of people who acted in that production with spanish class students..."

10 minutes later they had a match.

Pulling him up, he matched the description of the student to a T. He would have a senior at the time, same hair, skin tone, facial features...

"Now, we just gotta find him."

That didn't take long either. Eddie was able to find everything he needed. His job, his home address, everything was right there.

That night, he gave you a little kiss on the forehead as he left for the night. He told you he had something to investigate for work, and you didn't ask any questions.

"And you're sure you don't wanna come over after you're done?" You give him a pout. He hated to leave you alone, everything you'd trusted him with made him just want to watch over you all the time... but who knew how messy this would get?

"I might be out late baby, i don't wanna wake yuh at 4 am. I'll bring you lunch tomorrow, how 'bout that?"

that makes you smile. Food usually did.

"Okay. Lunch tomorrow it is."

The house was way too nice for someone like him, someone who hurt innocent younger girls. He was a corporate executive too, and Eddie was sickened to find he'd had a string of bad luck keeping assistants and interns, no doubt preying on more vulnerable young girls, using his power to keep them complacent. Men like that never changed. He wasn't gonna feel bad.

The light turned on the the living kitchen, revealing where Eddie sat drinking his expensive whiskey.

"Your security is shit, man."

He looked shocked, dropping his briefcase and freezing in fear. Eddie figured its not often he's the powerless one. He was going to let him cook in his adrenalin.

"Whatever you want, you can have it."

But Eddie just shook his head, standing up. "I don't want nothing here but you."

"i have-"

Eddie interrupted him with your name, "Remember her? Freshman girl you raped in college? Or does that not narrow it down enough?"

He chuckled nervously, raising his hands and backing up. "Listen man, you her husband? i don't know what she told you, but i swear to god she wanted it."

"Shut the hell up."

"Begged me for it!"

"Oh yeah? That why she had a black eye and a busted lip after?"

"Hey," he shrugged, trying to play it cool like he wasn't about to dash for the door. "What can I say, she liked it rou-" His words turned into a scream as Venom took over the body, biting off his head before he could say another word about you.

Eddie's face popped from behind the goo. "Venom! i had a whole speech planned!"

"TOO LATE! I was tired of him talking!"

He rolled his eyes but hey, what could he do about it now? Nothing. At least the asshole was dead, couldn't hurt anymore women.

The next day, at lunch time...

Baby <3: Meet me at my place, I went home early.

Eddie Boo: Everything okay?

Baby <3: Just come please?

When Eddie let himself into you're apartment to find you sitting on the couch with your arms crossed, eyes wet.

"baby, are you oke-"

"Do you want to explain to me why, a few days after I tell you I was raped, he ends up dead with his head ripped off?"

Eddie blinked. "Uhhhh.... coincidence?"

You stand, walking over to him. "Venom, got anything to say to me?"

Venoms head popped out behind Eddie. "WE ARE NOT SORRY AND HE TASTED DELICIOUS!"

"Venom!" You gently flick him. "Eddie, why would you do that?"

"Ahhh, come on baby, you know he deserved it! I'm not gonna apoligize for killing a rapist, and i don't feel bad!"

Eddie watched your face soften, lip quivering a bit. "I know. I know he deserved it I just... it's just a lot, right now..."

"Ohhh baby...." Eddie took you into his arms as you began to cry again. "Do you feel guilty? Is that it? Cause this was all me, nothing to do with you."

You sob into his strong chest. "I can't believe you love me this much."

His heart almost broke at that. "Of course I do! baby, don't you know we'd do anything for you? We'd break a guys finger off for look'n at yuh wrong, of course we'd kill for you."

Eddie scooped you up, carrying you over to the couch where he sat you down on his lap. "You're gonna be safe with us, always. You know that don't you? We're always gonna protect you. never gonna have to worry about anything again."

"LETHAL PROTECTOR!"

You chuckle in his arms, and Eddie holds you close. "Yeah, the lethal protector. No ones ever gonna hurt you like that again."

OKAY THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING EDDIE/VENOM

Eddie will be a part of the team in my very gay series The Prodigals and maybe has gay sex with marc spector who knows! yet to be determined. but there will be a lot of gay sex. logan and wade, logan and scott, scott and kurt. It will be 99% gay.

Anyway!!!! thanks for reading!!!! i love fics were rapists die so I thought eddie was appropriate! I saw venom for the first time at the start of the month, literally watched one and two the day before i went to see three in theaters. CRIED

if anyone has any good eddie series, something quality im looking for a masterpiece here! eddie/venom is 100% welcome! so is gay shit.

If you are new to my blog just coming in from this fic, I mostly write Logan Howlett, and oscar isaac/pedro pascal characters. Mostly fem! reader but i like to dabble in other stuff, like trans readers or trans characters, lots of gay shit.

Anyway, hi if you're new!

Have a great day!

I wrote this after already writing a chapter of rooms on fire, and after doing a bunch of homework AND battling bronchitis soooooo plz be patient my writing isnt the best in the first place, i type and spell very badly.

[waynes-multiverse]

Polaris – Chapter 9

Series Summary: When Beau Arlen moved to Montana, he left behind a past he wasn’t proud of. But when a series of murders requires the FBI’s help, Sheriff Arlen‘s ghosts come back to haunt him one by one. With a wrong turn waiting at every crossroads, it’s hard to make the right choices and find his way back home – back to you.

Pairing: Beau Arlen x FBI Agent!Reader

Warnings: 18+, ramp up the angst, guilt trips all around, hospitals, bits of fluff in all the chaos, smut (with a heavy dose of more angst)

Word Count: 5.4k

A/N: Well, there was no way this wasn't going to be angsty af. Enjoy the ride, loves! 😘

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Tag List

Chapter 9: Marooned

The cool, breezy autumn air whipped you across your face, a sharp, frigid sting in your lungs that burned right through to your heart. Each breath you desperately clutched was a fight for life.

Your mind, moonstruck and lunatic, spun complicated cobwebs. Your feeble body and fragile bones threatened to crumble and crack underneath the devastating weight of the truth. You crouched down on the parking lot asphalt, head heavy in your shaking hands.

“Hey, hey, just breathe…” Beau’s deep voice and warm hand on your back were a short-lived comfort before the first sob broke through you.

He knelt down in front of you, large hands cupping your head when your own grew too tired to hold it. He rested his forehead against yours, green eyes leveling with you. His thumbs wiped the tears from your cheeks.

“Maybe it’s not him,” Beau bargained, his voice a soft whisper. His disavowing mind refused to accept what his breaking heart knew to be true.

However, there was no doubt in yours. “No, I’m sure it’s him.”

“It still might not be true… It could be one of those CGI deep-fakes. You know, they’ve gotten crazy good… She just wants to mess with us,” Beau tried to reason, every bone in his body fighting to accept the truth. Because as soon as he would acknowledge it, he’d lose you. How could he live with that?

Your eyes lifted from the ground, your gaze boring into his. “You really believe that?” Your voice was harsh enough to break through the solid brick barrier he had erected over his heart, your words a wrecking ball. A jittery and hesitant lick of his lips was his abdication. He lowered his head in resignation. “How’s that even possible? You saw him die, right?

Beau’s mouth opened without an answer, his eyes flickered alive with memories. Panic rose with realization and poisoned the pumping blood that coursed through his heart. “I-I saw him get dragged away… I heard the shot.”

He was sure. He was so, so, so sure. And then, it all fell apart. What had he done?

You straightened up, slipping out of his grasp, and clasped your mouth, turning your back to him as your body rattled with shock. “Oh my God… Oh God…”

Beau rose to his feet behind you and swallowed harshly as the realization hit him like a freight train. He wanted to reach out and touch you, needing you now more than ever, but he didn’t know if he still could. His mind raced a mile a minute with questions he couldn’t find an answer to.

How was Randy still alive? Had the cartel kept him all this time? How did Diane find out? And how the hell did she get a hold of him?

“Y/N, I-… I don’t know what to say.” His voice trembled. He could feel you drift further and further away from him till you were just a dot out on the vast ocean. He didn’t want to lose you but didn’t know how to stop it, either. He thought all he needed was for you to just look at him, and it would all be right again. But when you did, it shattered his heart into a million pieces.

“All this time he was alive and God knows where. I-I could’ve looked for him. I could’ve helped him…”

“You didn’t know,” Beau said softly, pushing your blame onto himself. He could’ve known. He should’ve known. He felt helpless, lost, adrift. “Y/N, what d’you want me to do?”

You needed a moment to clear your head enough to think straight. If it wasn’t Randy but any other victim, what would you do next?

“We need to find that bunker. Get him outta there,” you concluded. “You think he’s still alive? You think she’d kill him?”

Recalling the snippet of the video, you remembered the timeline only read an hour instead of the usual forty-eight. It wasn’t about making you suffer through his death because you’d already done that. Diane just wanted you to see.

Beau knew there were only two possible options. Either Diane caught Randy only to show he was still alive and then kill him, or she brought him back into your life to wreak havoc. But the hows and whys didn’t really matter. Both options would cause a rift between you two wider than the Grand Canyon. If Randy was back, dead or alive, Beau’s relationship with you wouldn’t survive it.

He knew it was over. You’d never pick him. He wasn’t the love of your life. He wasn’t your once in a lifetime. He wasn’t true love.

He was your second choice. The one you were stuck with. Your rebound.

“I don’t know,” Beau replied and forced some oxygen into his lungs. He didn’t know for how long he had held his breath. For a minute there, he had forgotten how to breathe at all – and he didn’t even care.

The ringing of your phone broke both of you out of your haze and fatal fantasies. You fished it out of your pocket and stared at the screen with a furrowed brow.

“Who is it?”

“Unknown caller,” you replied before you answered the phone, pinning it between your shoulder and ear. “Hello? Yes, this her…”

Beau watched as your eyes widened, how your brow rose, how your mouth fell open, how your heart stopped. As you hung up, he could see you swallow before you found his eyes. He waited with bated breath for news he already knew.

“That was the hospital here. They said someone brought in my husband.”

The stone silent ten-minute drive to the hospital felt like an eternity. Beau drove, his grip stiff and knuckle-white around the steering wheel. The heat of the old Jeep had barely kicked in by the time you arrived, your hot breaths coming out in vaporizing clouds as you bit your nails bloody and down to their beds on the passenger’s seat. Neither of you spoke a word, too terrified it would cut the last string between you that still tied you to each other.

As the bright sign of the hospital came into view, your heart thudded in your ears, so loudly you could barely hear the world around you anymore. Everything was subdued and distorted as if someone was holding your head underwater. All you wanted was air, but your lungs flooded with water.

Beau killed the engine in the parking lot. Both of you sat there in silence and petrified in time, two fossils buried deep in the earth and uncovered by archeologists with fine brushes millions of years later.

His gaze drifted up to the star-filled sky, green eyes locked on the North Star. He wished he could rewind the tape to that night, all the way back to the start where the two of you were still alive. His eyes then swerved to your hand that lay there untouched on the edge of your seat, his own palm twitching to hold it in his.

“You want me to come in with you?” Beau asked carefully.

It was the first time since you’d left the Sheriff’s Department that you looked at him again. Your eyes were pleading. “Of course I do. Please don’t go. Don’t let me do this alone.”

Then, you saw it – the flicker of relief that flashed through him. You recognized the insecurity and apprehension in his eyes. Your heart dropped. You had been so consumed by the news, you hadn’t noticed how he had spiraled. You clasped his hand tightly in yours. He squeezed it desperately back. He was drowning, and your touch was the lifeline he had been waiting for.

“I don’t know if I’m ready to see him. I don’t know if I’m ready to see you with him,” Beau confessed. He had endangered his best friend, deserted him, and left him to die. And that wasn’t even the worst he’d done. The worst was you.

“Me neither,” you admitted and interlaced your fingers with his. “We’ll take it step by step, okay?”

He nodded.

As the nurse sent you down the hallway to your believed-to-be-dead but actually only-long-lost husband, you didn’t know what to expect as your hand lingered on the door handle.

Beau could not only feel the tension in your body but physically see it. The stiffness in your neck and shoulders, the tremble in your hands, and the twitch in your eyes were a dead giveaway.

As you felt Beau behind you with a hesitant palm resting on your lower back, you wondered if you should tell Randy. You supposed you had to at some point. And suddenly, you felt overwhelmed.

You had been so focused on what awaited you in that room, you hadn’t thought about what your husband expected. Or was it ex? Did he know you had moved on? Were you still allowed to? Would he be happy for you? Would he let you go? Would he hate you for it? He probably would, considering who you ended up with. Or maybe you had it all wrong, and he would be relieved it was someone he loved, too. Wouldn’t you be if the roles were reversed?

His death had severed your ties, but now that he was back, were your vows, too? Did he even know everyone thought he was dead? Had you cheated? Was that what Diane had been trying to tell you? That you had sinned? That you were a liar? That you were awful? That you were a whore?

“Should I-, uhm…”

“No,” Beau answered your dangling question as if he could read your mind. He dropped his hand from your back and ceased all contact, even going as far as taking a step back. If you hadn’t known any better, you would’ve thought you were radioactive. That should’ve been answer enough. “Not yet, at least.”

“Okay.” The rejection hurt, but you understood. This was hard for him, too. Maybe even harder. You had to weather the storm alone, ship-wrecked and marooned on a desolate island.

“You wanna go in alone first?”

“No.” You shook your head and pushed down the handle, suddenly feeling more courageous and determined than before.

You barged in. Not gentle. Not slow. The urge to see him, face to face within the same four walls – after all these years, after all the tears – washed over you like heavy rainfall. You didn’t want to weather the storm – you wanted to be it. It felt safer than to seek shelter under driftwood.

Then, your heartbeats halted. The world around you paused. No murmurs in the hallway, no beeping machines or bustling footsteps. It felt like you were standing in the eye of the hurricane, everything else flying fast around you, but the center was calm.

As you stood there, feet calcified in front of his bed, a set of familiar whiskey-colored eyes found you. The slightly furrowed brow above them softened, his lips parted in awe. He still looked the same, only slightly aged by the years and what he’d been through.

“Randy?” Your voice was a quiet tremble but still filled the entire room.

A smile flickered alive on his face. “Hey,” he said, his own voice raspy and dry as if he hadn’t had water in several days. Deserted like he had been. His hazel eyes lit up, full of love and adoration. It was the same look he had always worn when he gazed at you. For a second, it felt like nothing had changed. It saturated your frozen heart with warmth and your gray and bleak vision with technicolor.

“I-I don’t know what to say,” you stammered with a thick swallow.

Randy snorted a bit. “Now, you know how I always felt,” he quipped, blinking the tears in his eyes away. He’d always been a ray of sunshine. He was light and sweet and good down to his bones. A part of you had expected that light to fade, though, considering what he must’ve experienced the last few years. But it hadn’t. He was still shining as bright as ever, his spirit untouched by the darkness that had tried to swallow him. “Are you just gonna stand there like a moron?”

A small laugh escaped you as tears began to sting your eyes when he spoke those same words you once had said to him. You wanted to cry when you heard them. What sliver of doubt remained in your mind that it wasn’t truly him vanished upon his words. Your feet wanted to move forward, but your heart tugged you back.

You glanced back over your shoulder and found Beau, standing with lovelorn patience by the door as he watched the exchange between you two. The muscle in your chest then stung, like someone had dropped it into a pit full of cacti. You felt torn in two, pulled into opposite directions.

Randy followed your gaze and finally noticed his second visitor, his brow shooting up in surprise. For a second, Beau felt nervous as he awaited a reaction. He expected resentment, hatred, blame, and anger. What he got, however, was a rising smile.

“Hey, man.” Randy seemed happy to see him, not an ounce of animosity detectable. “You two realize you’re staring, right?”

“‘S good to see you, Randy,” Beau managed to say and forced a quivering smile to his lips. And it wasn’t a lie. A big part of him was elated to have his best friend, his old partner, his brother back. But he couldn’t ignore the gnashing, lethal wound in the shape of you that Randy’s return caused.

Carefully, you stepped closer and let out a nervous breath as you sat down at the edge of his bed. He reached out and tenderly caressed your cheeks, brushing a few strands of hair behind your ear. A smile curved his lips as soon as he touched you again. It felt like he was holding a miracle while you looked at him like he was a ghost.

“You look good, sweetheart,” he said. His hand then slid down your arm to hold yours, fingers brushing over the one. His gaze dropped when he couldn’t feel what he was looking for, the tan line of the missing item around your ring finger still visible. Pensively, he licked his lips. “They told me everyone thought I was dead.”

“Yeah, uhm, that’s kinda my fault. I’m sorry, buddy,” Beau said and swallowed harshly. The sight in front of him almost took him out. Even though it was a familiar picture, one he had seen a million times before, seeing it now was a different story. After everything he knew, you in someone else’s arms that weren’t his felt like a bullet piercing through his chest. His heart was bleeding. “I thought you got shot.”

“It’s okay. Don’t blame yourself, man. It was crazy in there. It could’ve happened to anybody. I did get shot. Only the slug went straight through the shoulder,” Randy explained. “Cartel then took me to Mexico. Juárez.”

Your wide eyes wandered to Beau, the two of you sharing a horrified look. Randy had been right underneath your noses this entire time. You could’ve saved him.

“You were in Juárez? We were there, too,” you muttered in shocked realization.

“Oh, I know,” Randy said, surprising you both. Your heart beat faster, accelerating to lightning speed and close to jumping out of your chest. Did he already know about you and his best friend? But he answered your question before you could ask it. “Cartel talked about a task force moving in on them. I overheard them once. Said my old partner and wife were looking for me. When y’all got too close, though, they moved me further south. There’s nothin’ you coulda done.”

“What did they do to you? How are you still alive?” you asked and didn’t want to sound ungrateful for it, but you were completely baffled. You had too many questions racing through your mind.

Randy chuckled a little at your line of questioning. “You’re still the same.” He smiled and tore your heart apart, because you knew you weren’t. Not really. “I think they thought they could keep me for leverage. Trade me at some point? They held me in a basement at first till they moved me south. Kept me at farm of some cartel member. It wasn’t highly guarded, but even when I had opportunity to flee, I didn’t know where I was or where to go. I thought they’d either kill me or give me back at some point, but then months… years passed. I gave up hope they’d ever let me go. And then, one night they threw a bag over my head and I woke up in some weird bunker… in Montana. Apparently. Anyone wanna explain what I’m doing here? How did you guys get here so fast? They only brought me here a few hours ago. Had to convince them a little to find and call you since they thought I was dead.”

“I was already here for a case. There’s a crazy serial killer lady who took you. That’s who locked you into that bunker,” you explained and watched his brow crease.

“Huh.”

“I work Major Crimes now. It’s a long story,” you added quickly. You didn’t even know where to start. How could you recap three years?

“Really?” His smile was back. This time, it was a proud one. “That’s good. You always wanted that.”

“Yeah.” You blushed a little and gave him a small smile in return.

He squeezed your hand, his gaze flickering to your missing ring on your finger once more. “So, uhm… since everyone thought I was dead, I guess we’re not married anymore, huh?”

Your heart exploded like he had just deposited a grenade inside of it. You averted your gaze to your joined hands. “Uh, Randy…”

“No, hey, it’s okay, sweetheart,” he quickly soothed and chuckled to lift your worries, and you weren’t sure if it was a real smile or just one for your sake. “I’m just trying to catch up, you know? Get up to speed. ‘Sides, if we’re not married anymore, we could have a second wedding. Might be fun, right?”

Tears gathered in your eyes as you tried to smile through the pain. “Uh, yeah.” You nodded and hoped he couldn’t see your reluctance.

Randy then stretched his neck and pulled you closer, his lips meeting yours in a slow and chaste kiss that felt like your first. Tears of happiness mixed with sadness as they rolled down your cheeks. When Beau softly cleared his throat, you broke away from Randy, your cracked heart shattering into sharp daggers that sliced through your skin. What were you supposed to do, though? Reject the man you married because it would break the heart of the one you currently loved?

“I-, uh, I should go. Let you two catch up,” Beau said uncomfortably. The crestfallen look on his face destroyed you. “I’ll keep the press away from this for as long as I can. Lord knows they love a good back-from-the-dead story.”

“You can do that?” Randy arched a curious brow.

Beau pulled his jacket back a little and tapped the badge on his belt. “Kinda the sheriff here.”

“Wow, congrats, man. You deserve it,” Randy said with a genuinely happy grin. He seemed like a kid who was catching up with all his friends on the first day of school after summer break.

Beau gave him a tight smile that said he didn’t think he deserved it. But only you could read that one. “Uhm, thanks, bud. I see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Beau, wait–”

But he had rushed out of that room so fast, he couldn’t even hear you as the door fell shut behind him. You offered Randy the same tight-lipped smile and stroked his cheek. Your emotions were a mangled mess. A part of you was hauled back to the past, old feelings that you had buried deep coming back alive, while new ones reminded you that it wasn’t the same anymore.

“Give me a sec, okay? I’ll go talk to your doctor. See when we can get you outta here,” you said and waited for Randy’s nod of confirmation before you darted out of the room.

Your heart thrummed in your ribcage as you raced down the hospital’s corridors all the way to the parking lot where you finally caught up with Beau. He was on a fast-paced escape to his car before he stopped when you called his name.

“Beau, wait!”

As he spun around, he dragged a palm over his face in an attempt to wipe away the tears. But the evidence was still visible, his eyes red and distraught. “You should go back, Y/N. He needs you.”

The heart in your throat caused you to choke. “So do you. I’m so sorry,” you said, sniffling as tears flowed down your cheeks. But as you stepped forward to hold him, he took a step back.

“It’s okay. I get it. Trust me. I do. He’s your husband, and I’m just… Well, I’m nothin’,” he said, his voice laden with heartbreak. “Just don’t come closer, ‘cause if you do, I don’t know if I can hold myself back, alright? ‘Cause all I wanna do right now is kiss you and love you, even it’s the last time. I can’t do that to him. You understand?”

Everything in you wanted to break through the fence he had set up, full-throttle with a lead foot on the gas, but you thought it was best to respect his wishes for now. You didn’t even know where your head was and wanted to avoid hurting him more.

“Here, uhm, you should have this back.” He fished out your wedding ring from his back pocket and dropped it into your palm, the quick brush of his skin tearing you apart even more. The golden band suddenly felt heavier than it ever had. You didn’t even know when he had grabbed it from his desk drawer, but the foresight scared you. He let out a humorless chuckle as the sadness brimmed in his green eyes. “Not the ring I thought I’d give you…”

Your lips parted, your brow lifting in realization. Whatever dusted remnants were left of your heart plummeted. “Beau…”

“Don’t. ‘S okay,” he wrung out with a doleful smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow, alright? Call if you need somethin’.”

With a passive nod, he jumped into his Jeep. You clutched the ring in your hand so tightly it almost burned through your skin as you watched him drive off.

Beau uncapped his third beer of the night (plus two tumblers of whiskey and a shot of his old friend Don Julio) as he sat on the bed in his trailer. A pile of your clothes still lay on the floor to his right, your favorite coffee mug stood in the kitchen sink, and your shampoo was stored in the shower. It felt like you hadn’t left, even though you had.

He replayed the clips of the hospital in his mind over and over again. How Randy held your hand. How he touched your cheek. How he kissed you. How he looked at you when he first saw you – like he had finally found the piece of his heart again that he lost years ago, the same love in his brown eyes that had been there since day one. And Beau understood, because he had felt the same way once, too, when you walked into his office – back into his life.

He told himself it was the torture he deserved for all of his sins. And he swallowed it all down – the hurt, the heartbreak, the jealousy, the possessiveness. He had no right to feel those things. Not anymore. You weren’t his. You never were.

How long did he have with you this time around? Five weeks?

Suddenly, he regretted leaving Houston, regretted leaving you. He wasted a whole year that he could’ve spent loving you. He always thought, in the end, he'd have more time. Eternity, even. How fucking foolish was that?

The headlights and sounds of a car in front of his home drew his attention to the window, shadows and lights dancing along the walls of his trailer. He couldn’t see his visitor, but considering it was in the middle of the night, he assumed it was either Jenny or Cassie checking up on him. He had texted them to let them know what was going on. But as he opened the door, the sight left him speechless.

“Y/N…” Your name fell from his lips like you were an angel he had prayed for. For a moment, he wasn’t sure if his eyes were seeing things right, or if you were a booze- and depression-induced hallucination. You wouldn’t be the first ghost that came back to haunt him, after all.

“You ain’t nothing.”

With those words still floating in the night air, you cupped his neck and crashed your lips against his, kissing him fervently with everything you had as tears streamed down your cheeks. He returned the kiss just as passionately, although you could feel a part of him fighting against it. But his large hands grabbed your waist and pulled you flush against him, the kiss lasting till both of you were bluer than the sky. You didn’t let go of him, though, hands holding onto his shirt, too scared he would slip through the cracks of your fingers if you did.

“Y/N, I can’t…”

“I love you,” you interjected his hesitance with firmness and gripped him tighter, your gaze drilling into him like you hoped your words would. “You think I’d just forget? You think my feelings for you just vanish into thin air? It doesn’t work that way. I can’t just snap my fingers and stop loving you. I can't go back to the way things were. I know you think me and Randy are some great love story, but so are you and I. Look, when he died, I grieved that loss and it felt like I was dying, too. I never thought life would be... exciting... and fun... and happy... and so full of love again. And then… I-I fell in love with you, and my life somehow started again. And I know this whole situation is fucked up and confusing and impossible. And I don’t know what to do… I don't know what the right thing is here. But I do know you feel right, and I can’t just pretend you and me and everything good that came with it never existed. I don’t want to. Please, just… I need you, Beau. You said you wouldn't leave again. You're not making things better by walking away...”

With a stretch of your toes, your nose grazed his before you gently claimed his plump, soft lips once more. Your tear-stained cheeks met the roughness of his beard. The kiss started ginger and careful, giving him time to withdraw if he wanted to. But he didn’t. His tongue slipped inside your mouth and stoked the flames of the fire that burned for him deep within your soul. Inhibitions were set ablaze as the kiss turned searing. He hoisted you into his arms, your legs wrapping around his middle as he carried you inside.

The trailer’s peaceful silence was disturbed by panting breaths, a pathway of clothes leading from the entrance to the bed. You peeled off his shirt, and he slid off yours over your head. You unclasped your bra and tore it off, pressing your tits against his bare chest as your lips tried to remain connected to each other through it all. By the time he sat down on the edge of the mattress with you on top, only two naked bodies seeking friction remained.

You wanted to feel him everywhere, wanted him to fill you and make you whole again until you stopped feeling like you were breaking apart at the seams. Hands roamed and explored as tongues mingled and savored tastes. As you straddled his muscular thighs, his arms wound around your middle and kept you firmly pressed against him, his hold on you strong as his fingers dented your flesh. You hoped it was enough to leave bruises behind. You never wanted to forget him, wishing his marks would be permanent ink on your skin.

“I need you,” you murmured against his thoroughly kiss-swollen lips, his cock rubbing against your soaking core as you gently rocked your hips.

“I want you,” you assured him, your mouth trailing a path of featherlight kisses along his jaw and down to his throat, his groan vibrating against your soft lips. One hand steadied itself on his broad shoulder as your other one fisted his hard, throbbing length and positioned it at your entrance, his cockhead gliding through your slick and teasing you till you shuddered with wanton need to feel him inside of you.

“I love you,” you whispered and gasped as you sank down, sheathing his thick cock in your warmth as your velvety walls welcomed him. With a needy and yet tender kiss, you soothed his grunt when he was fully inside you and prodded at your cervix. “Wanna make you feel good, okay?”

He nodded and squeezed his eyes shut. “Fuck, Y/N, don’t do this to me if you’re gonna leave,” he pleaded, his gravelly voice laced with desperation and pain. His hand softly caressed your face as he rested his forehead against yours. His love for you radiated in his green eyes like kryptonite.

You cupped his bearded cheeks and forced him to look at you, lifting his chin to find your eyes. “I’m not leaving you, okay?”

“But–”

You kissed him before he could bring forth all the reasons why you should, but you didn’t care. Your heart was the North Star, and your heart had led you to him. When you left the hospital, there was nowhere else you wanted to go, no one you wanted to see more. Your heart had only ached for him.

You were finally home, and now that you were back in the arms where you belonged, you kissed him so hard till his mind quieted down to a soft lullaby. You kissed him so hungrily till his cock twitched inside of you because you were the only one he wanted, too. You kissed him so passionately he felt your love for him seep into his own heart.

As you began to roll your hips, he met you thrust by thrust as he pounded up into you. His massive hands and sinful mouth roamed every inch of your body. Palms groped your tits and fingers tickled your spine. Lips kissed your throat and tongue massaged your nipples. Teeth grazed your flesh and beard burned your skin.

Your nails dug into the thick muscles on his shoulders and scraped his scalp as his cock split you open with each pump. His girth tore you apart, each time you eased back down a new pleasurable burn coursing through you as your walls stretched to accommodate all of him.

Your pace rose with the tides of your hips, your thighs flexing as your cunt stroked his cock and came closer to the finish line. Beau buried his head in the crook of your neck, writhing and groaning underneath you. His fingers bit into your flesh, surely leaving bruises behind this time. Your tits rubbed against his chest, and you could feel his muscles tensing and straining underneath your fingertips with each bounce. He was barely holding on.

“Come for me, baby,” you beckoned him, feeling your own orgasm approach. The fuse was sparked and burned a path right to your explosive core. “I love you…”

“Fuck!” Beau cried out and spilled into you, his body trembling in your grasp. Those words were all it took to tip him over the edge.

You came with a thundering moan. His release triggered your own, your pussy pulsing violently around him and milking his cock for all he’d got. His cum mixed with your arousal and gushed out of you, trickling down your thighs and coating even his balls. Your thighs shook with exhaustion as you let yourself fall down on him, his arms catching you and holding you close.

Still panting, his mouth found yours in the dark. His thumbs stroked your flushed cheeks, the rest of his fingers dangling in your hair, the grip soft turned bruising as he kept you lip-tied to him, the kiss tender turned rough.

His nose brushed yours as he looked deeply at you. You could see the despair drowning in his pine green eyes, his emotions overtaking him.

“Pick me. Don’t go,” he begged in a harsh whisper, your flushed face in his warm palms.

You placed a gentle kiss on his lips and nodded. “I’m not going anywhere, corazón.”

Chapter 10: It Matters – DECEMBER 06

Phew, writing that hospital scene nearly killed me 😮‍💨 Next up, we have even more drama as the awkward throuple reaches a boiling point...

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