#bill x female!human!reader

[thedarkcircuswritings]

Bill(In Denial) x Female Human Reader Headcannons from dating to getting married! :D

Bill definately started dating you with semi-malicious intentions at first, being a dream demon and all, but that's melted overtime

Bill can only date you in secluded areas since he can't be seen out in public.

No matter if he's human or triangle shape, you'll always be the taller one in the relationship

Sometimes he'll just appear, kiss you, and then disappear

Your wedding will be during the second Weirdmageddeon

Bill easily gets grumpy, but you always seem to know what can help him

You're the only restraint he has from not making deals with other people without your permission

[queers-gambit]

Tell Me Every Terrible Thing

[ part one of two ]

prompt: you embark on a secret but passionate affair with the Rogue Prince, and when his wife, Rhea Royce, passes away, he chooses you to wed next - a decision that angers his niece and changes history.

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!Hightower!reader only description given: red hair

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 5.6k+

note: what the fuck is this, Cherry? also two parts 'cause author gets carried away!

warnings: show spoilers, cursing, author has small bouts of feministic ideas, author also really likes the "little birds" storyline (let her live!), wonky brain is wonky, i think hurt and comfort, angst, very mild NSFW (brief female receiving oral), technically alternative timeline 'cause this goofy-ass author has an overactive imagination, #icanmakehimworse, another reader-episode-insert (this warning is for the fucking losers in my inbox).

part two: "Tell me every terrible thing you ever did, And Let Me Love You Anyway," - Edgar Allan Poe

"How angry do you think he'll be with me?"

You offered your best friend, The Realm's Delight, Crowned Heir to the Iron Throne, Princess Rhaenyra, a unamused, stale look. Sarcastically, you replied, "Oh, come now, Nyrie, why would your father be angry? It couldn't be because you rejected every suitor His Grace put before you, or even how you abruptly ended the tour with two months remaining. What father would be angry after that?"

She groaned, "I know, I know, you don't have to be so right all the bloody time. I just... I couldn't do it anymore, you saw what it was like," her head bowed and you knew the girl was truly overwhelmed by her 'job' picking a suitor.

"This was no easy feat to arrange, Princess," you spoke diplomatically, aware of the ship's crew dotting around the royal ship. "Our fathers went through much difficulty to ensure this tour's success, Princess, and I'd imagine neither will be thrilled by our early arrival."

"But it's just - "

"I know," you soothed with a knowing, sympathetic smile. Your arm extended around her, her head dropping to your shoulder for comfort. "In an ideal world, women would have a real say in their futures. Perhaps, that is what you're meant to do, Nyrie... Perhaps you're meant to break this wheel, give the other half of humanity a fighting chance against the men who have long suppressed us. Being heir is a monumental stereotype to shatter, but most women are not born into royalty and have nobody protecting or defending them."

She picked her head up to stare at you for a single moment, then nodded slowly, "That's a lot of pressure."

"Less if you pick a respectable man to help you lead," you advised softly, reaching to caress her cheek briefly. "You're to be Queen, Nyra, which means you need a King Consort that the common folk will respect, who will play his part in the courts to come. I know it's not ideal, my friend, but it's not meant to be - it's meant to be strategic." You paused, adding, "Similar to Ali marrying your father, yes? That was a strategic move on my father's end. Now it's up to you to chose your own match, to plot your own strategy."

"Who would you see me marry?"

"In truth? I'm unsure if anyone would fit the bill perfectly, so, I don't know who I could see you with. Definitely someone smart, though."

She only hummed, sighing deeply and making you frown. Before another word could be said, there came a distant screech that sounded all too familiar - though you refused to let it show that you knew this particular dragon's sound.

Nyra moved away from the ship's railing to stare longingly up into the sky, and about a minute later, without visible sight of any threat, Ser Criston Cole was shouting, "Take cover!"

And then, like a bird swooping to snatch a fish, a crimson dragon descended from the cover of clouds - seemingly materializing from nowhere. The large, long, slithery beast with wings knocked into the ship's main mast; jolting everyone on board enough to topple over.

You tried to stabilize the Princess, but you lost balance and dropped to your knees as Cole rushed to help Rhaenyra to her feet. When able, you looked to the sky; grinning to yourself as you recognized the retreating Blood Wyrm. Seeing the distinct form of Caraxes made you giddy with anticipation, however, that was short lived as you clocked Rhaenyra's gaze of awe and wonder.

It seems she was excited for her uncle's return, too. Though, it won't be till later that you learn the extent of her adoration.

Less than an hour later, the ship was docking and you escorted Princess Rhaenyra from aboard; her guards surrounding you both as you trekked to the Red Keep. "Just... Perhaps try to stay invisible," you advised your friend, arm-in-arm. "The King won't be pleased if you interrupt court, even just by being there. With luck, we won't be noticed."

She agreed softly, continuing on. She started fiddling with her necklace, the piece of Valyrian Steel jewelry that her uncle, Daemon, had gifted her years ago before Queen Aemma passed away. Your lover had told you the Princess was owed a piece of her Valyrian history, and since he could not gift a sword to a young lady, the necklace was chosen, crafted, and gifted.

When you returned to the Red Keep, it was just in time for court to be called to session and your friend was all too eager to join. "Nyra," you warned, hand in hers.

"It's all right," she assured, "come, it must be Daemon - "

"No, I should return to my chamber. Don't piss your father off too much," you warned her with a smirk, watching her grin in response, squeeze your hand, and then file into the Throne Room with the other members of court.

You retreated to your old room, sighing in relief when you discovered nothing was disturbed. "My Lady!" A voice gasped at the open door. You glanced over, smiling at Milah, your usual handmaiden, and opening your arms when she rushed forward. "You're not supposed to be back yet! Oh!" She tutted, looking you over. "I'll get your bed made and - "

"No, it's fine - "

"Nonsense, let me do this," she insisted, already busying around the room. "I was wondering why they were bringing things into the foyer - must be all the Princess' luggage, hmm?"

"Yeah," you sighed, helping her strip the bed and change the sheets. "It was strange," you admitted, "the men, I mean, and the way they all competed for her hand in marriage."

"Did you expect anything else?"

"I did not think they'd honestly kill one another. Though it was more so their pride than the Princess they fought over."

Milah smirked, "Sounds about right. Well, what of you? Anyone catch your eye?"

"Of course not," you sighed a little sadly.

"Still hung on the Prince, aren't you, my Lady?"

"Perhaps," you mused.

You spent the better part of an hour gossiping with Milah before she had to go grab a few things, but promised she'd send your belongings up as soon as possible. You thanked her, walked her out, assuring you were just going to get a bath or something, and just as you shut and locked your chamber door, gasped when a pair of hands seized your waist.

"Daemon!" You hissed when you saw the short, white locks of your surprise guest. "The bloody fuck is wrong with you?" You demanded, turning in his grip to shove your hands into his chest. "What're you doing here? Want to get us caught?"

"Three years," he grit, gathering you in his arms to heave upward and force your legs around his waist if you wanted to keep balance, "three fucking years I've been gone - away - missing you, do not deprive me a moment more."

"Someone will come looking," you whispered, caressing his face as your forehead met his. "And perhaps I want a moment to just look at you, 's been years," you breathed. "You cut your hair," you commented, running your hands through the short strands.

"I cut my hair," he agreed softly, just holding you close and tight.

"I like it... But I'll miss braiding it."

"I will, too," he admitted. He nuzzled closer, inhaling your neck sharply, boldly licking a flat tongue up your pulse point to make you shudder lightly.

"Daemon," you whispered, pulling his head back so you could look in his eyes, beaming, "I missed you, too."

"Viserys is arranging a lunch for my return," he informed, turning so he could approach your newly-made four-poster bed; dropping you flat on your back with a grin. "Which roughly translates into only allotting a few minutes to make up for lost time."

"We will have time later - "

"I overheard Viserys saying he and Otto intend to take evening tea with you regarding the Princess' return from tour," he eased, reaching to spread your legs, bunching your skirts. "But I will call upon you tomorrow? Yes? Officially?"

"If you insist," you teased, letting him finally descend to smash his lips against yours. In truth, you were used to his empty promises of 'calling on you officially' because of his marriage to Lady Royce, but it was his way of telling you without words that he wished it was you instead of Rhea.

Daemon groaned, melting into your form; breathing heavily. "I've missed you past words," he whispered, nuzzling your nose with his. "But for now, I just need a taste - "

"We don't have time - "

"We'll be fast. Tell me, love," he nipped your pouting lips, soothing his tongue over the puckered skin, "have you taken another in my absence?"

"Of course not," you hissed in offense.

"Good," he nodded, kissing you sweetly.

"Need I ask?"

"There were no concubines," he mused, "though, they were offered, I did not accept. So, we'll be quick - faster than quick," he promised, pawing at your undergarments and exposing your dampening cunt to his sight. "I'll take my time with you later, but for now, I need this," he all but seethed before diving tongue-first into your core.

His spit mixed with your arousal, creating a slippery mess.

"Shit," you hissed, grabbing his shorter hair as his tongue flattened to lap at your entrance, dripping in your essence. One of his hands held your thighs apart for his access, the other releasing his cock from the pair of breeches he wore. Daemon groaned at the taste of you, lapping wildly like a man starved, and stroking his bare cock in rhythm with his ministrations.

It truly took no time at all once he found your clit and sucked mercilessly, the hand holding your thighs now extended up to paw roughly at your tits. Alternating his tongue around your sloppy cunt added to your heightening pleasure, swirling his tongue as he bobbed and shook his head - making an absolute mess, and causing your climax to shatter your mind and soul.

Your legs twitched, spine curled, stomach contracted as your arms quivered from the rush of adrenaline; hand slapped over your mouth to keep your moans to a minimum. You grabbed his hair so tightly, he groaned in mock pain; legs then contracting to a suffocating grip around his ears and head while Daemon met his own end, spending in his hand whilst milking you for all you had.

He panted with satisfaction when he pulled back, grinning at you in mischief when you released your hold on him. "Good fuckin' girl," he praised, standing to his feet only to slither over top of you. "Like not a day's gone by, huh?" He whispered, kissing you messily, smearing your cum on your tongue; grinding his bare cock into your recovering core to make you shudder. "Take a moment, then get ready," he whispered. "I expect to see you at the celebrations... Wear that dress I got you for your fifth-and-twentieth nameday," he smirked, adding, "if you'd so please, my darling."

You chuckled, "You magically learned manners during the war?"

"Perhaps," he mused, pecking your lips again.

"Hey, Daemon?"

"What is it, my sweet one?" He asked, seeing the sincerity in your eyes and hearing the seriousness in your voice - something in his heart jumping.

"Would you tell me about it all later? The war, I mean? Would you tell me what you've endured?"

"I do not think it's a tale befitting a lady's ears."

"Please? I wish to know..."

"Then I will tell you," he promised, "but only if you wear that dress."

Your eyes rolled in humor as Daemon stood. You watched him wipe his cum on a spare rag, tossing it away, and after one last kiss, was leaving out of the secret passageway's door. Taking another moment, you finally stood on weak legs and unlocked the main door, preparing how you could for your day before Milah returned.

After arriving at the luncheon, you made a beeline for your father, greeting him happily before explaining your surprise reappearance. He filled you in on that day's court, explaining that Prince Daemon was back; and you felt almost guilty for the way your skin was still set ablaze from your lover's earlier visit.

For all Otto's faults, he was still your father, and you felt guilty for sneaking around with Daemon behind his back. Your father ushered you off to mingle, insisting he was only there for the King; and no, he wasn't hungry. So, you parted ways with a chaste peck to your forehead; the feeling of his scratchy beard lingering on your guilt-riddled flesh.

"Sister, what a surprise!" Alicent happily distracted by greeting you with a bright grin. You adjusted course to approach the Queen, King, and newly-returned Prince. "Oh, what a lovely dress you've chosen," she complimented with ease, reaching for your hand. "You always do have the best eye for clothes, I feel as if need you to live in my wardrobe, tell me what to wear everyday."

"Thank you, Your Grace, I'd be honored," You smiled at her, holding her hand, looking to the others. "My King," you curtsied to Viserys, glancing at Daemon and bowing your head respectfully, "my Prince, how nice to see you, again. Welcome home."

"Thank you, my Lady," he smirked. "Might I welcome you home as well? I hear you've been gone from the Capital."

You hummed with a nod, "I was on tour with the Princess, my Prince. I've only arrived home today, as well - though not by dragonback."

He eyed you up and down, offering, "I must agree with the Queen, my Lady, that is a lovely dress you've chosen."

You pet the black material, smiling genuinely, "Thank you, my Prince. It's one of my favorites."

"I can see why, given how beautiful you look," he flirted, and from behind you and Alicent, you could hear your father scoff.

"Thank you," you whispered. "What conversation did I rudely interrupt before?"

"Oh, nothing of importance," Daemon told you, looking to his brother and your sister.

"Because we spoke of how Daemon, here, was always Mother's favorite," Viserys grinned. "Do you want to know, my Lady? About how much Mother adored Daemon?" He asked you, his little brother trying to drone over him - but Viserys was determined to tell you the examples he could think of regarding his brother's favoritism.

You giggled from both Viserys' stories and Daemon's evident embarrassment.

However, almost awkwardly, on Alicent's other side, Princess Rhaenyra approached the group and stood amongst you. You knew the King must be unhappy with his daughter, but did not voice any opinion since you were not the source of disappointment at the moment. Instead, you listened to the King's complimenting words to his brother; thinking it was interesting that Daemon was so egotistical and yet, flushed under his brother's praise. Princess Rhaenyra waited until a natural lull to tell Daemon, "Congratulations on your victory."

It was awkward as Viserys just glared at her, Rhaenyra's expression falling short. Daemon covered smoothly, "Thank you, Princess."

Trying to save the tension, your sweet sister offered, "Perhaps Prince Daemon would care for a tour of the gallery? He hasn't yet seen the new tapestries gifted to you by Norvos and Qohor."

Viserys nodded and whispered, "Oh, oh," mockingly. He asked his brother, "Would you like to see the tapestries?" But by the end, he broke character and laughed with his brother; the latter who whom you knew spat on trivial things - such as tapestries and such. Through their laughter, Viserys proclaimed to his wife, "He has no interest in such things!"

"But thank you for the offer, sister," you smiled at her, trying to reassure her when her husband laughed in her face. "The tapestries are very beautiful, you've chosen a grand place to display them. I saw them on my way here."

"I'd like to see them," Rhaenyra jumped in, seemingly to Alicent's aid - something she'd not done in an age considering the tension between them. You just smiled politely, seeing the way Viserys dropped his grin when he looked at his daughter with distain while the rest of you looked away sheepishly.

"Then you should not deprive yourself."

Rhaenyra offered a pained, pursed smile, "I shall enjoy them alone."

You, Alicent, and Daemon all stared after Rhaenyra with varying degrees of pity as she walked away to sit solemnly by herself on a distant bench while Viserys went on about his and Daemon's youth; over Daemon being their mother's favorite. However, Alicent excused herself to follow the saddened Rhaenyra, perhaps to offer the Princess comfort in her father's anger. The King looked ready to protest, but instead just shook his head in disappointment.

Viserys turned you and Daemon away from the sight of the girls, showing off the Godswood in bloom; your father approaching you three stiffly. "Your Grace," he bowed to Viserys, then nodded in resepct, "my Prince. Daughter," he smiled, trying to instigate, "how was tour with Princess Rhaenyra?"

"Oh, as eventful as a Royal Tour can be," you smiled, deflecting, "though I must admit, while seemingly exciting at some parts, I'm sure it pales terribly in comparison to the Prince's adventures in the Stepstones." Viserys smirking broadly at your redirection. "I do wonder, what brought the war to an end? We've heard rumor, but surely the Prince might know for sure what brought the Triarchy down?"

"Surely," The King nodded, looking to Daemon expectedly.

The Rogue Prince smirked and readjusted his stance, deflecting, "Perhaps a conversation for later."

"Oh, come now, brother!"

"Your Grace," Otto interrupted, "I do apologize, but there are matters at hand that require your attention. The Tully's still - "

He sighed and waved your father off, "Yes, yes... Well," Viserys nodded, "I'll call upon you both later."

"Your Grace," you instantly curtsied.

"Your Grace," Daemon bowed right after. Viserys smiled and nodded back at you both, patted his brother's shoulder, turned, and when he walked away, Otto followed with a single look to you and Daemon.

"Daughter," he bid curtly - and you read between the lines. He really wanted to say, "Do not linger around the Prince."

When the King moved, his usual procession of advisors, guards, and entourage followed right after. You sighed as almost all of the Godswood cleared out, Daemon eyeing you as he readjusted his stance; subtly reaching out to pet your hand with his fingers.

"Daemon," you warned quietly.

"Nobody is watching us," he smirked. "You look beautiful, love. I'll have to buy you more dresses, you wear them so well."

"I cannot believe I will not see you tonight," you whispered with a pout.

"I will call on you tomorrow," he reminded.

You opened your mouth, but another voice answered. "Sister," Alicent called, you looking over and smiling innocently. You caught sight of Princess Rhaenyra glaring at her uncle, but didn't think much of it.

"I look forward to your tales from the Stepstones," you told him calmly, offering a curtesy.

He took your hand, pressing a soft kiss to the back, "I look forward to any time spect together, my Lady."

You hummed in contentment before stepping away, instantly taking Alicent's arm when close enough. "What was that about? Daemon looks so smitten!" She whispered with a growing grin.

"He was being polite," you whispered back, "and simply being Daemon - you know how he is. He's got three years of mischief to make up for."

"I see," she giggled. "He's quite handsome with the short hair, isn't he? It suits him well."

"I have to agree," you gossiped. "I can see why the ladies of court have missed him so."

Your younger sister giggled, smiling at you, offering, "I've missed you greatly. Come... I wish to hear of your time away."

"Oh, sister, please, I've only just returned."

"But... Wouldn't you tell me before the King?" She whispered.

You paused, then nodded, "Got me there, sister-dearest."

"We'll take tea together," she decided, leading you around the Keep until she saw a familiar face she knew. "Talya, my sister and I wish to take tea in the gardens, please. Privately, of course, so do not announce it," she directed the handmaiden. "We'll be in the gazebo in the rose gardens, bring tea, sandwiches, and my sister's always loved those peach crumbles?"

"I know the dessert," she nodded, smiling at you. "Can I interest you, Your Grace, in anything specific?"

"No, but bring enough for us both. Come, sister."

You three parted ways, Alicent leading you to the gardens as promised. She dismissed anyone in the area, even telling her guards to wait at the front hedges to give you ideal privacy while deeper in the roses at the gazebo. While sitting, you exchanged gossip about what happened while you were away, Alicent happy to catch you up because she was happy to finally have a friend, even if it were a sister, back in her corner.

You were happy, too.

While you loved Rhaenyra, the tension between her and Ali made you feel in the middle despite both parties assuring you "you weren't". Nyra was a good friend, your best, even! But it was something about your sister that was calming and assuring. She was trustworthy to a fault, but she was still your strongest pillar.

As Talya dressed your table with tea, lemon water, sandwiches, fruits, and other foods (including the peach crumbles), you giggled at Ali's retelling of whatever failed proposals occurred this past season you were away. When alone, at last, Ali turned to you in her padded chair and asked, "Tell me in truth, how was the tour? Why did you return early?"

"In truth, sister, vying men made the Princess uncomfortable. She did not need the two months more, she knew she was unhappy with the men so far presented to her."

Alicent sighed, "So, who does she intend to marry?"

"Yes," a new voice agreed, you both jumping in shock and looking up to see Viserys approaching with your father behind him. "Who does my daughter intend to wed, Lady Hightower?"

"Your Grace," you uttered, both you and Alicent standing in respect to bow your heads.

"Please, please," he permitted you both to sit, taking the lone chair across the table as your father remained standing. "I only wish for the unfiltered truth. I know what is said, I know what is reported, I know..." He sighed, "I know what my daughter might say, but please, Lady Hightower, what is the truth of it?"

"The truth, Your Grace, is that Rhaenyra was overwhelmed. Perhaps it was too long for her that she eventually, I'm not sure, shut down? She did not care towards the end which men was presented, she was overwhelmed with the options and pace at which everything moved."

"Kings and Princes before her have done the same, many Queens and Princesses embarking on their tours to find proper suitors," Otto reminded. "Why was this different, my Lady?"

"Because she is the first," you reminded. "Never before has a woman been named heir - she holds a different responsibility. Perhaps having everything thrown at her was too much, she has to filter through lesser men that would be King Consort. Nobody stood out, she became discouraged, and honestly, Your Grace?" You spoke earnestly, "I think it just made her sad. She did not want to disappoint you by choosing a man not worthy of being her King, so, she would rather face your anger in coming home early."

Alicent frowned but nodded to herself.

Otto adverted his eyes.

Viserys looked dejected, but sighed, "I see... Thank you for your words, my Lady, truly, you've always been a trustworthy advisor to the Queen, Princess, and I."

"It's the least I can do, Your Grace, since you and Queen Aemma - you - you were so kind to me when Mother passed. And Rhaenyra - to both Alicent and I - she was a true friend. I am in debt to you, Your Grace, and whatever I can do, be it just a simple different perspective, I am happy to provide."

"Well," he considered, "in the spirit of your unfiltered perspective, who would you see Rhaenyra marry?"

You blinked in shock, "Oh, Your Grace, I-I am not qualified to say."

"You serve as my Master of Whispers, do you not?" He smirked. "Speak, please."

You sighed deeply. With a small gulp, you blinked twice, then admitted, "I do not think my opinion matters, but... It would make sense to marry her to Ser Laenor Velaryon, would it not? He's a warrior who survived the Stepstones, is of Valyrian stock and blood, rides the dragon, Seasmoke. He's kind, brave, true, unmarried, heir to Driftmark. I think when it comes to filling the position of King Consort, Ser Laenor Velaryon would make a fine candidate."

Apparently, this was all Viserys needed to hear.

You could not sleep that night. You could not explain why, but something foul was in the air and prevented you from drifting off. So, you chose to browse your private library, select a literary favorite, and stroll the deadened halls of the Red Keep; reading by flickering torch light.

Good thing you were up and out, because one of your Little Birds chirped at you from the shadows. You looked around to see nobody in the hall, but another chirp directed your attention to a darkened alcove. "Hmm, oh, Kaela," you hummed, approaching her slowly and bending at the waist. "What is it, child?"

"I came as fast as I could."

"What's wrong?"

"I've seen something - something you'll want to know," she glanced up and down the hall, "but not anyone else."

"Come," you whispered, pushing her further back into the dark and sheltering yourselves safely. Once knelt before her, you asked the child, "All right. What is it you have seen, little one?"

"Do not get angry, my Lady..."

"I promise I won't," you spoke softly, confused - you never got angry at your Little Birds... Why start now?

"I-I saw... I saw the Prince Daemon and... Princess Rhaenyra."

You nodded slowly, asking quietly, "Where?"

"In the city, in a pleasure house."

You blinked, "And what were they doing?"

"What grown-ups do."

"I see. They were coupling?"

She shrugged, "No, just kissing, but it stopped fast. He left her there."

"He left her there? In the pleasure house?"

The little girl nodded. "The Prince looked sad... When the Princess tried to kiss him again, he pulled away... Then he left."

"Where did he go? After?"

She blinked, frowning, "My brother, Grenn, said he saw him at the pubs - but he was always on the move, very drunk. I came here right away."

"Good girl," you smiled, offering her whatever Gold Dragons from the pouch you usually kept on your person under your robe for times like this. "Where will you be tomorrow evening? I will bring you and Grenn supper."

She smiled, "We can meet you at the dock!"

"The dock?"

"He likes watching the boats."

"The docks, then. By the Fisherman's Pier?"

"No, Grenn like the Harper's Pier. They're not there around supper, they're still out at sea."

"Harper's Pier for supper," you agreed. "Go on."

The little girl looked around before scampering off down a different passageway and you stood from your knelt position with a stony look of tentative contemplation on your face. With a deep breath, you did the only thing you thought you could... You went to your father.

With a rapid knock at his chamber door, it took a moment or two before he was opening it - still dressed. "What is it, daughter?" He asked gruffly. "It's late, this should wait till morning."

"The castle is about to wake - "

"I know and I've much to attend to - "

"Father," you hissed, glancing up the hall.

He sighed and let you in, "What is it?"

"I carry scandalous news," you muttered, his door's lock echoing around you. "About the Princess Rhaenyra."

He turned to you sharply, you taking a step back in surprise. "You... Know?"

"About her sneaking around in a pleasure house?"

Otto frowned, "Do you know with who?"

You could not tell him, so you answered, "No, just that she was seen in disguise."

"Who told you this?"

"One of my Birdies."

"All right," he decided, nodding to himself, "thank you, daughter, for reporting this. I will... I will figure out what to say to the King."

"Should you say anything?"

"I'll figure it out - but now we both know."

You nodded, "So you knew before I came?"

"I was awoken an hour ago to hear this news."

You nodded slowly, "Then I will leave you to it."

"Thank you," he whispered, letting you peck his cheek in parting before slipping out of his chambers. With nothing left to do or anything else to say, you went back to your chambers as to limit your exposure to the castle's tenants.

The less that could say they saw you this night, the better.

Once safe in your chambers with a locked main door, you could do nothing else but (over)think, wishing to all the Seven Gods you didn't know what you knew. Information and knowledge was vital to maintain power, this is true, but it also made you dangerous - also a target. The more you knew, the bigger the target.

It was only a few hours after dawn when the secret passage doors to your chamber opened. You were braiding your hair, ignoring the man you knew to have the only balls to use that door - especially now.

"I've always wondered, if we had children, would they have white hair or waves of fire, like you? Perhaps something between?"

"Fuck off, Daemon."

"So, you've heard," he sighed deeply. "Won't you even look at me?"

"I can't stand the very thought of you right now, nor the actual sound, I'll lose my stomach if I have to look at you."

"Let me tell you the truth," he begged, "before I have to leave the Keep, let me tell you the truth. Let Viserys and everyone have their ideas and opinions, their lies and slander, but let me tell you!"

"Excuse me?" You asked, whirling around in your seat to glare at him fully. "Viserys banished you, again?"

"He did... Back to the Vale."

You scoffed, "Good... Your Lady wife awaits you."

"Viserys thinks I've sullied Rhaenyra's virtue. I do not need you thinking the same, so, please, let me tell you what happened - no matter how uncomfortable, please, let me tell you the truth."

"What difference does it make?"

"I can't have you thinking something more occurred. Was I tempted? Yes, but I refrained. Did I touch her? A little - but not how you think."

You sighed, shaking your head, "I don't care, you're returning to your wife in the Vale, and I will be rid of you. No matter for how long this time, you will be gone - "

"For a time, yes, but I intend to return for you."

"No, I think I'll let Father make me a match. I despised the North, it was too cold, so the handsome Cregan Stark is out. I don't mind Dorne, perhaps a Martel to marry? Or even a Tully of Riverrun?"

"Do not speak such atrocities to me."

"You're one to talk! Your niece, Daemon? The girl I consider my closest friend? You couldn't just find that whore you like and be satisfied with her? Couldn't wait a single day, could you? Huh? How fucking pathetic!"

"Perhaps you are not as close with Rhaenyra as you thought," he tisked, making you feel disarmed. He spent the next hour and a half explaining to you what happened the previous night, and despite your disgust, you just listened.

Knowledge was power.

"I will return," he sighed at the end, "and in that time, you can make your own decisions if you want me or not. But I will return and I will have you, if you will have me, and this foolishness will be behind us."

"I'll give you a single year. I will not wait for you longer than that," you whispered, tears streaming down your face. "I can't stand that you've done this, but I will wait one single year for you to find a way out of your marriage and back to me. Any longer than that, and I will simply move on. I do not want to live my whole life in the Red Keep, and the truth of it is, I cannot live in the Princess' shadow any longer. One year, Daemon."

"One year," he nodded, stepping closer. "My love, please - "

"Do not assume to touch me. Not after you've touched her," you snapped, stepping away. "Get out, I need to be alone, you have been banished - you need to go, you cannot be seen here." Your eyes rolled, muttering, "Probably have to go collect your whore for this banishment, too."

"Not this time," he smirked, "this time, I leave with my promise that I will return for you, my sweet Lady Hightower."

"Fuck off, you perverted Prince Daemon," you sassed, watching him slip out the door; shutting you in an echoing silence. Your heart ripped itself apart, making you wonder what the fuck you had done to deserve getting caught in such a scandalous affair. But you knew, in your heart, you'd do anything for Daemon - the thought sickening your stomach as you pondered how far this would all go.

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

[pedrospatch]

lean on me

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist

summary: It's been three months since you and Joel left your baby daughter with Bill and Frank in Lincoln; you aren't coping well and Joel tries to help you get through it.

pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. BOSTON QZ ERA ((TW)) though it is not explicitly stated, it is implied reader is suffering from postpartum depression. mentions of being unable to breastfeed. angst, hurt, comfort, tiniest hint of fluff at the end.

word count: 3.7k

a/n: this was only meant to be a short drabble, but it ended up getting longer than i anticipated. sorry for more angst.

September, 2020

Joel had known things would get bad.

But he hadn’t expected for them to get this fucking bad.

He glanced across the table at Tess, quietly asking, “She eat today?”

Tess let out a small sigh, shaking her head. “Nope.” She picked up her chipped, ceramic mug and took a sip of crappy, two decades old dark roast coffee and stated, “She didn’t eat anything yesterday, either. Or the day before that or the one before that. I can barely get her to take a fucking sip of water these days.”

“Fuckin’ hell, Tess! We can’t just sit around watchin’ her starve herself,” he hissed at her, his hands curling into fists on the table. 

She shot him an irritated look. “You think I don’t know that already?”

“Tess—”

“What are we going to do, Joel? Pin her down and force feed her?”

Joel’s jaw clenched, his lips pressing together in a tight, thin line. He glanced over at you with a heavy, sinking feeling inside of his chest at the mere sight of your current state. 

You were sitting on the bed in the same pair of gray sweatpants you’d been wearing for the last couple of days, your knees pulled up to your chest as you stared blankly, vacantly, out of the window beside you at absolutely nothing. You were beginning to appear frail—the current tone of your skin was so dull, so washed out that anybody who took one glance at you would probably think that you had spent your entire life locked away in some basement, never having seen the fucking sunshine before. The pallor of your skin was only emphasized by the dark, bruise-like circles underneath your eyes, courtesy of the long and sleepless nights you’d been having, especially lately. 

You had fallen deep into a sadness, a darkness—one so deep that you had become nothing but a mere shadow of your former self. You were an empty shell of a human being and it was starting to scare the fucking shit out of Joel. 

“Maybe if we took her to see the baby?” Tess suggested, quietly. She took another sip of her coffee and then set her mug down. “Frank has been wondering why you two haven’t been over there to see her. Hell, even Bill is curious why I’ve been going over there alone.” After having done some digging around, Tess managed to find someone in the QZ who had helped her get her hands on homemade infant formula; it was worth gold and only ever went to officials of a higher ranking who could actually afford it. Somehow, she’d pulled a few strings and the next thing Joel knew, Tess was loading a pack full of cans to take over to Lincoln. She’d made a couple more trips since then, and each time, she had gone alone. “It’s been over three months, Joel. Maybe it’s finally time—maybe it would help her.”

“In her condition?” Joel shook his head, adamantly. “No. For one, she wouldn’t fuckin’ make it a mile down the road before collapsing—from exhaustion, from starvation, you name it. And even if she could make the trip somehow, the truth is, she’s not ready to see her.” He lowered his voice to keep you from overhearing him, although at this point, he was certain that you were too zoned out to even pay attention. Every word was probably going in through one ear and out the other. “I hate to say it, but she’s just not strong enough to see her yet, Tess.”

“And what about you, Texas? What’s your excuse?”

He glared at her. “You really think I can leave her here alone in a state like this while we go skippin’ off to Lincoln together?”

“Good point.” Tess paused and peered curiously at him. “You haven’t even told her what they named her, have you?”

“Don’t think that’s such a good idea right now, either.” Joel held back a heavy sigh as he looked down into his own mug of shitty coffee. A huge part of him wished that she hadn’t told him what Bill and Frank ended up naming the baby. Since then, his daughter’s name echoed in the back of his mind, over and over again, damn near constantly.

“Joel, if we don’t do something, she’s going to wind up—” Tess could see his jaw clench again and she stopped herself, choosing her words more carefully. “She’s walking on thin ice. She’s not eating, she’s not sleeping. She’s already been in lockup twice this week alone because she can’t even keep up with work detail anymore. I know this is hard for you to hear, but if something doesn’t change soon, things are only going to get worse from here—she’ll get worse. You’re the only one of the two of us who actually has a chance of getting through to her and you need to fucking do something.”

“Tess, I’ve tried—”

“Well fucking try harder, Joel. If you don’t, you’ll fucking lose her. You know that, right?”

“I know.” Joel rubbed his face tiredly with both of his hands. He knew it was nothing but the truth that she was speaking, but goddamn the truth fell onto his shoulders heavy, almost too heavy. It felt as though he were carrying the weight of the entire fucking planet. But she was right. If something wasn’t done, he was going to lose you. “Tess, you mind if I have a minute alone with her?”

She nodded and took one last gulp of coffee before standing up from the table. “Yeah. I have to go see Robert and a couple of his buffoons about something anyway.” As she walked past him towards the door, she stopped and tossed him a pointed look. “Maybe today is the day that you finally decide to give her that thing that you’ve been carrying around in your pocket,” she suggested. “We went through a lot of shit for it, Joel. It’s the reason we have been drinking crappier coffee than usual for the last two weeks.”

He nodded, watching her as she grabbed her jacket and left.

After a minute or two, Joel finally pushed himself away from the table and rose to his feet. He made his way over to you, and he wasn’t even the slightest bit surprised at how you didn’t turn to acknowledge him despite the sound of his heavy boots on the creaking hardwood floor. He said your name as he came closer to you, but you remained as still as a stone statue, your eyes still fixed outside of the window.

“Alright,” he said, standing next to you at the side of the bed, both of his hands placed firmly on his hips. “Enough is fuckin’ enough. I can’t and I won’t let you keep carryin’ on like this. Either you get up and get your ass over to that table and eat somethin’ or I’m going to pick you up off of this bed, take you over there, and feed you myself. And don’t think I won’t. I’ll tie you down to the chair if that’s what I’ve gotta do.”

Finally, you turned to look at him. You spoke, your voice sounding just as fragile as you looked. “I’m not hungry.”

Joel’s expression immediately softened.

Fuck. 

He couldn’t be tough on you, not in the state you were in—he thought being hard on you would be the way to get through to you, but he just didn’t have it in him to be stern with you, not when you were like this.

“Baby. Please.” He knelt down beside you, reaching for your hand. He winced at how frigid your hand felt in his palm, as if he were holding a block of ice. He brought his other hand up and placed it on top, doing his best to warm it up with both of his. “Look, I get it. I know that you miss her. I know that you’re hurtin’ over her. You might not think I get it, but I do.” He paused, feeling sick to his stomach upon noticing the lifelessness in your eyes. He almost wished that he could see you cry, because at least he would know for certain that you were still in there somewhere—but Joel hadn’t seen you shed a single tear since you’d broken down sobbing in his arms that night in Lincoln. “You just can’t keep goin’ on like this. You don’t eat, you’ve barely slept in weeks. You keep fallin’ behind with all your work assignments and you’ve landed yourself in lockup more times than I can fuckin’ count because of it.”

You simply shrugged, as if you couldn’t give two shits about any of it.

Joel managed to bite back his sigh of frustration. He knew that losing his temper would do nothing more than sink you further into the hole you were currently in. But he was angry. He was just so fucking angry about about everything. Here you were, just slipping right through his fucking fingers, slowly fading away right before his own two eyes and he didn’t know what to do to stop it from happening. He felt lost. He felt hopeless—useless. 

He squeezed your hand out of desperation. He would fucking plead if he had to. “I need you to fuckin’ snap out of it. Please,” he begged, as he continued holding your hand tightly, holding onto it as if he were holding onto dear life itself. “Please, for the love of fuckin’ god, I need you to just snap out of it. If not for yourself, fuckin’ do it for me—do it for her.”

“Snap out of it?” You repeated. “You want me to just snap out of it?”

“Baby, please just listen to me for one goddamn second—”

You snatched your hand out of both of his. “I can’t just fucking snap out of it, Joel!” You nearly shouted at him, speaking the loudest he’d heard you speak in several weeks. “Alright? I can’t snap out of it! My heart is shattered into pieces, don’t you fucking understand that?”

“‘Course I do. Givin’ her up was hard for me too,” he reminded you quietly, resisting the urge to match your tone. 

“And I don’t deny that,” You prefaced yourself. “I know it was hard on you too, Joel. But you’re not the one who came this close, this damn fucking close to aborting her.” You held up your index finger and your thumb close together. You’d started trembling as everything seemed to catch up to you all at once—sleep deprivation, malnourishment and of course, the emotions you had been bottling up inside of you for the last three months. “You’re not the one who carried her inside of your womb for almost nine months, who felt every one of her flutters and her kicks. You’re not the one who had to go through the excruciating pain of giving birth to her in this crumbling apartment, only to have to place her in someone else’s arms and leave her behind three days later. You’re not the one who had to deal with the aftermath, Joel. Do you know how much it fucking hurt not to be able to feed her? How much it fucking sucked to have to wait for your milk supply to dry up because you no longer had a baby to feed?”

For the first time in a long time, Joel was left speechless. 

He didn’t know what to say. Hell, there was nothing he could say.

Because you were absolutely fucking right.

None of what you’d just said to him was a lie. Of course he knew that giving the baby up had been a hundred times harder on you than it’d been on him—mentally, emotionally, and even physically. He thought back to the nights when he would see you sitting there with your own arms wrapped around your chest, knowing you were aching, knowing that although you said nothing about it, you were in unbearable pain from being unable to breastfeed. 

And what could he do about it?

Not a goddamn fucking thing.

Still, Joel had tried. He always made the attempt to comfort you, only to be shot down time and time again. He’d been so used to being the one who rejected any kind of support that, when the tables had been turned on him, he hadn’t known how to handle it. Joel could feel the guilt slowly creeping in as he wondered if perhaps he just hadn’t tried hard enough for you. He was your partner—it was his duty to take care of you, to look out for you, to protect you, and yet here he was, failing to do any of that. 

He could have done more. 

He should have done more.

Especially after all the friction he’d caused from the beginning of your pregnancy. From letting you go to those crooked motherfuckers for a procedure that could have cost you your life, down to the way he had treated you the night you’d brought up Sarah, it seemed as though all Joel had been doing was fucking up, time after time. 

Seeing the expression on Joel’s face, you immediately knew what he must have been thinking. Your eyes widened and you quickly uttered a nearly breathless apology. “Joel, I’m so fucking sorry—”

He stopped you, tightly shaking his head. “No, don’t be. It’s true, it’s all fuckin’ true.”

Finally, after three months of bone-dry eyes, a warm tear slipped out, falling down the side of your face. Your entire body shuddered as the flood gates opened and more followed in suit, each one falling faster, harder than the last. The next thing you knew, Joel had pulled himself up onto the mattress beside you, pulling you into his arms just as you had started sobbing. With one hand, he delicately cradled the back of your head as you cried and cried into his shoulder. The other rubbed a soothing circle into your back over and over again. 

And just like that night in Lincoln, Joel just held you, waiting patiently as you finally allowed yourself to release each and every single one of your emotions out into the open. He didn’t say a word to you, nor did he attempt to stop the tears—he just held you close, merely using his touch to silently let you know that he would wait as long as he had to until you were finished.

“Joel,” You sniffed his name, your hands clutching fistfuls of his shirt.

“I’m right here, baby,” he assured you, holding you even closer against him, as close as humanly possible. His heartbeat was right in your ear and you closed your eyes, listening to it and letting it calm you. “I told you I wasn’t gonna let you carry this pain alone, darlin’. You remember that?”

You nodded against his chest, whispering, “I remember.”

“Well then, you’ve gotta let me help you,” Joel said into your hair. “For three months, I’ve been tryin’ but you just keep pushin’ me away. It doesn’t work like that. I need you to lean on me. I need for you to let me back in and help you because the road you’re headin’ down right now is a dangerous one.” 

Opening your eyes, you pulled away from him slightly, just far enough to meet his worried gaze. You could see the absolute fucking hell that you had been putting him through and felt your heart clench painfully inside of your chest. “I know I can’t keep going on like this, Joel,” You admitted softly to him. “Believe me, I know that. I tried so hard to get a fucking grip. There have been so many days where I think to myself, today is the day that I’m going to get my shit together. But then I just think of her sweet and innocent little face and I just fall apart all over again.” You muffled another sob with the palm of your hand.

“Oh, baby.” He gave your body a gentle, but firm squeeze. If he could take your pain away, all of it, and carry it along with his own, he would do it in a fucking heartbeat. 

You swallowed harshly. “I know she is far better off where she is, Joel, I know that she is. I never want her falling into the hands of FEDRA. It kills me to think of her being here in this shitty fucking place, going to their shitty fucking school.” Your voice broke at the mere thought of it all. “We know what would happen, Joel. As soon as she comes of age and meets their requirement, they will put her through their recruiting program. After her training, they either deem her worthy of becoming a fucking ruthless officer or they will give her the shittiest civilian jobs making her work for scraps of nothing, the same way they do to us.”

Joel sighed, rubbing your back again. “I know, baby. I know. It’s why we did what we did. We did what we had to do to spare her from that shit.”

“But then there’s this selfish part of me that wants her back so badly, so fucking badly that it makes me fucking ache,” You confessed, guilt lacing your tone of voice. “I just want the hurt to stop. I want to be at peace with the decision that we made, but the way I miss her, it feels almost impossible. I feel like I’ll never be able to accept that this is the way things have to be.”

“You have to accept it—we have to accept it. We ain’t got a choice,” Joel spoke the truth to you as gently as he could, though he knew it wouldn’t make a difference.

“I know,” You whispered, your eyes glazing over with fresh tears.

He stared at you for a moment and then pressed his lips against your forehead. Deciding it was time to show you what he’d been keeping a secret from you, Joel reached into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out a small, crumpled up wad of brown tissue paper. With one of his arms still around you, he used both of his hands to unwrap the tissue paper only to reveal a delicate silver chain—a bit too old to be shiny, but still in good shape nonetheless. Joel picked it up and tossed the tissue off to the side. He held it up in front of you to give you a better look at it. 

A single white pearl hung from the chain. 

“Joel, where did you get this?” You gasped lightly, taking it from him with trembling fingers. You didn’t even want to know what the hell he must have had to do or trade for it. Sure, jewelry was one of the most useless items that anyone could possess in this world because it no longer had any monetary value, but if someone wanted something bad enough and another person had it, then advantage was going to be taken somewhere, somehow. 

“Don’t you worry ‘bout that, darlin’.”

You glanced up at him, an incredulous look in your eyes. “Joel.”

He almost chuckled, knowing you wouldn't let him off that easy. “I’d mentioned to Tess that I wanted to get you somethin’ special to carry around with you, somethin’ that would remind you of her. Tess said a pearl was the birthstone for June, and so I asked her to help me find one a few weeks ago. She found some guy and I cut a deal for it. But that’s all I’m tellin’ you.”

Joel took the necklace from you and beckoned for you to turn around for him. Moving your hair aside, he reached around you and clasped it at the back of your neck. “I’d rather only you wear it when you’re here in the apartment. Once you go outside, it stays hidden in your pocket so no one sees it, alright?”

You turned back around to face him. “I don’t even know what to say. I can’t believe you did this for me, Joel.” You reached for his hands and held them tightly in your own as you shot him a sincere, grateful look. “Thank you.”

He leaned forward, lightly brushing his mouth against yours. “Baby?”

“Yes?” You murmured against his lips.

Joel squeezed your hands, hesitating for a moment before he said, “I know I’ve only ever said it to you once—that night. Outside of Bill and Frank’s place. But I need you to know that I love you. The truth is, I’ve been lovin’ you for a long time now. Never had it in me to admit it, not even to myself.” His eyes met yours in such a tender way that you felt a part of your broken heart begin to heal itself. It was just a small part, and you knew that unless you had your daughter back, it would never mend itself completely. Still, it was enough to give you a sense of hope. It was just enough to remind you that you would be able to find the strength in you to survive this pain. If you had any reason to keep going, it was right there it front of you. It was Joel. “I love you. I’m gonna do everythin’ that I can to help you through this. All you’ve gotta do is lean on me, alright?”

“I love you, Joel.” Though you’d said it to him once before, it still felt a bit foreign to say out loud.

It felt right, though. And it felt right hearing him say it to you. 

Reaching up, you lightly clasped the pearl in your hand. You leaned into Joel’s chest and felt him wrap his arms around you. 

“Y’know,” Joel said, breaking the momentary silence that had fallen over you, “Tess said Frank’s been wondering why we haven’t been over to see her yet. I know it might still be a bit too soon for you, but—” He let his sentence trail.

Though he didn’t say it out loud, you could hear it in his voice.

He wanted to see the baby.

“I’m not ready for that just yet,” You admitted. “I want to see her more than anything, but look at me. I’m a fucking mess.” You paused, clutching onto the pearl a little tighter. “Maybe we can try in a few weeks? What do you think?”

Joel kissed the top of your head. “Soon as you’re ready, say the word and we’ll go.”

[donutz]

Yandere Catnap x female reader

Request from Wattpad—! Here you go Justlila79☆

A/N|| I barely ever mention that you are a woman in this fanfic, but there is a mention of chests, not sexually, but it does talk about it

—☆You are a human in this

Catnap’s been.. Gone. But still here.

He’s been distant but he’s still there.

You find it terrifying that you always feel like you’re being watched even at home.

You can’t even change without closing the blinds!

You were at home after a long day of working at the daycare, wanting to just lay down. You again, feel like you’re being watched. Let’s just hope nothing happens while you’re sleeping.

You didn’t want to shower, but you want to be clean for the next day and do not appreciate morning showers.

So, you decided to go through the process of showering. Doing your usual routine. Thankfully, you didn’t feel like you were being watched at the moment. Whoever’s watching you is well-mannered.

For some reason, you smiled at that. At least someone knows when to look and not to. Your shower took about 20-30(or more) minutes. The warm water(unless you shower in cold water) doesn’t want to let you go.

Now you get it, when cats lay in the warm sun rays.

But sadly, there’s something called a water bill and getting weirdly wrinkly from water, so you had to get out.

You were soon dressed for bed(if you do, some people don’t sleep with clothes on). Then went to sleep, feelings watched once again(unless you sleep naked, or half naked like a bra and underwear or something).

Catnap has manners y’all.

Soon, it’s the next day. Nothing’s watching you. Not at the moment. You don’t feel those occasional goosebumps run across your skin.

But then you do.

Only because it’s cold. Like I said, nothing’s watching you.

At the moment.

You’re dressed for the day to work at Playtime co. And prepare to deal with screaming, wide smiles, pushes, hugs, what’d you expect at a literal daycare.

You’ll feel ‘that’ again once you get to the workplace. So just be happy you don’t right now.

You arrive at Playtime co, signed in with your id, and went to your ‘station’ you called it.

“Hey coworker!” You have no idea why Dogday didn’t call you by your name.

It’s fine, you’re used to it.

“Hey Dogday..” He was really worried about your well being, but sadly had to deal with kids. No worries! He’ll make time for you! Hopefully.

You were walking to your office, and you’re being watched. For sure.

You’ve caught Catnap creepily looking at you a few times.

“Catnap? Are you there?” Dumb thing to say, but y’know, just gotta make sure Catnap(isn’t) is there!!

The lights were on so you weren’t as scared.

You could see his beady white irises in the dark.

“Jesus there you are!” You ran up to him and gave him the biggest hug.

“I’ve missed just seeing you right in front of me!”

.

.

.

Silence.

“Also are you the one who’s been watching me”?

“...”

“Keep you… away… from others…”

“I can’t Catnap, here—” You picked him up, went to your chair, and settled him on your lap.

You scooted your chair in and started working.

“Did you want my attention? Here, I mean it’s not necessarily my full attention, but you can cuddle up to me or something.”

Catnap was— surprised. He didn’t really expect you to do that, he thought you’d go away and he’d end up having to use his gas.

.

.

.

He can. Right now.

But. He wants to be with you just a little longer.

He can use his gas later.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Thank the lords Catnap was asleep. You didn’t get goosebumps anymore.

You looked down on your lap, but your chest was in the way(unless it wasn’t, not everybody has a big chest) so you move your head to the side(unless you didn’t) and get a view of a sleeping kitty.

You heard a low sound of soft buzzing, and leaned your head in towards Catnap. Is he.. PURRING?!

For some reason you had a video tape recorder, just in case something happens at Playtime co, or when you’re driving home or walking to your car. Soooo, of course! You recorded his purring, for memories.. Also this is the first time Catnap has purred, around you.

You feel as if he knows that you’re recording his purrs. But he’s still letting you. Even if he’s been away, for a while.

.

.

.

Anyways now you’re in a basement.

Away from everyone. Away from the critters, the kids, the workers.

You don’t know why you’re here.

Though. It wasn’t that bad. I mean you can get really bored and lonely down here but Catnap visits you almost every day. You ask him why you’re here but he doesn’t say anything.

Surprisingly you actually get food! From Catnap. Good food. I guess, He knows where you live so he gets food from your house, or from playcare. He wants you alive, he could starve you, but you’re human.

And apparently, humans need food. Yeah sure he gives you water. Sometimes orange juice. You need your vitamin C!

But one day, he took off your cuffs. You were confused, you wanted to go out but decided to stay down here. Where you’re ‘safe’.

The next thing you knew you heard screaming. No, not a child’s screams of joy. It was horrific. Terrifying. You heard screams of kids, teens, adults, you heard so many screams.

You could hear the voice cracks in their pleas and yells. The cut offs of their loud, terrified screams. The splatter of blood. You could hear it all.

Yet you wish you didn’t.

And after… An hour? Catnap came back, but he wasn’t the smaller one that you usually saw. No.

He was taller, on all fours, more skinny and he was heavily breathing.

You could see blood on his fur. In his fur. On his face. And he was just staring at you.

Like a little kid, you walked up to him and hugged his leg. Maybe you went so insane that you didn’t care about the fact Catnap caused those screams.

He picked you up by the collar of your shirt at the back of your neck, and walked out.

Hundreds of dead bodies. On the floor.

He showed you the dead bodies.

Like he was proud.

Though, you didn’t care.

You tried scrambling out of Catnap’s grasp, and somehow did.

“Catnap, can I ride on your back?” You asked.

He lowered his body for you to do just as you said.

You wondered how the critters were doing.

—☆Catnap's so spooky ^_^

[temmtamm]

Hello! Could you do yandere Pines family x female reader. (Mostly targeted to stanford pines) Can you do it where the reader (the reader is in her mid-20s) was traveling through gravity falls. But her car broke down, so the reader managed to stop at a motel (if gravity falls have one). The reader looks around gravity falls while she was there. And went to the mystery shack, and that's when standford meets the reader. He was love struck. So obviously, he started to stalk her, etc. Till he finally talks to the reader. After a while, the pines family has been noticing his strange behaviors (more than normal), so they went to investigate (mostly dipper and Mabel), and they realized they too really liked her. And started to see her as a graunty. Stanley comes in to see what's up and realize he also likes her too (as a little sister) and all of them try to get the reader to date/relationship with stanford. But the reader finally mentioned she was leaving soon. And that just...broke them. You can come up with the last part, okay?

Hii ^^ friendly reminder that I do not do gender specific asks, but I will gladly do this concept using gender neutral pronouns!!

Yandere Ford (+ twins) Headcanons

Okay, so I don’t think Ford would be a hard guy to impress, mostly because he had been away from human society for three decades and hence, grew accustomed to other dimensions customs, including their appearances.

That is both to say that you are something very new and exciting for him, both in the ways of fashion and what-not as you don’t exactly look like what people did in the 70’s-80’s, and you’re the first human he’s seen that was a romance-able option.

Things to note about Ford is that he is awkward, not all that socially aware, and he has no conversation skills to save his life…but, another thing to note that he is self obsessed. Ford is narcissistic as all his life he had been praised for his intellect. So, he is convinced he can use his intellect to woo you over, he just needs to study you.

He doesn’t like to call it stalking, only bad people stalk. He’s not bad, he’s just…collecting data. He’s not stealing, he’s just collecting samples, you get the point.

At nights, he lies awake thinking of you, over analyzing your twos relationship. He worries he is turning into a freak of nature, an obsessive monster that will end up destroying you and everyone else he loves. He’s afraid he’ll end up like Bill.

But…when he talks to you, when he watches the wrinkles form in the crows feet of your eyes from how much you laugh at his jokes, how well you take care of the twins, all his worries melt away.

He will never end up like Bill. He’ll make sure of it. He doesn’t want to destroy, he wants to protect. It’s the intent that matters, right?

Well…Stan doesn’t exactly think so. He gets worried seeing Ford hover so closely around you, always analyzing, always watching. He doesn’t want to lose his brother. It might be a bit selfish, but he just got Ford back, he doesn’t want you taking Ford away to god-knows-where once your car gets patched up.

So, he starts asking around, asking to see if Mabel and Dipper noticed Ford’s new attitude.

You see, another thing to note is that Mabel and Dipper don’t have a good home life. It’s not out of reach to assume that they had gotten sent to the Mystery Shack during summer while their parents got divorced, and in such a troubling time with a collapsing home life, they latched onto the closest thing to a family they had, which was you and Ford.

Ford had been Dipper’s ideal for a long, long time, before Dipper even really knew who Ford was, and hence, he’d be estatic to have him as a father figure. And Mabel?? Well, she has this unique ability to bond with almost everyone she meets, but especially you. You don’t chastise or make fun of her for being boy crazy, or liking pink, or being the ‘dumber’ sibling. You just let her be a kid and have her fun.

So, the two cover for Ford.

What do you mean he’s going out late?? He must just be getting used to his new life back home.

What do you mean he has a collection of your clothes? He’s keeping it for you…to wash.

He bought a perfume/cologne with your exact scent?? Obviously, it’s an early birthday present.

Hell, the two might even try to convince Soos to stall the fixes on your car, with Mabel in particular winning him over, saying it’s for ‘love’.

They, along with Ford, aren’t that willing to part with you. Won’t you just stay a little longer?? They barely got to know you.

C’mon, just stay…

At least let them pretend they have a happy family, at least for a little.

[triannel]

Okay angst...I wanna try and request one with Bill...

Where Bill is doing his absolute best to save Human Female Reader from dying after one of Bill's Manipulated Human puppet came in and took reader out thinking that Reader is the root of Bill's Imprisonment in Theraprism

(PS: He successeded but now his more wary and more Protective and more clingy to reader)

Well...I think I got even more spoiled of TBOB lol. Not really sure how his power works right after being imprisoned so things might not make sense...

There You Are

Bill Cipher x Reader | Oneshot | Angst/Fluff

Warnings: Mentions of Blood, Injuries, Bill Cipher lol, Unhealthy Attachment to Reader, Possession, Near Death Experience

---√-------√-------√-------√-------√----

Heaving in distress, you held your stomach tightly, trying to stop yourself from bleeding out. Taking in deep breaths, you slowly descended to the ground as the puppet stood in front of you.

Slowly but surely, your consciousness was slipping away. The utter terror in your mind becoming blurry as you began to black out. You didn't even know what you did to deserve this. However, before your body accepted it's fate, your eyes managed to catch a glimpse of someone else quickly approaching.

----√----√----√

Once Bill found out what happened, he quickly took over another worshippers body. From head to toe, all he could feel at that moment was absolute terror. He could not even feel anger towards the person who did this to you. All he cared about at the moment was you.

He can't afford to lose you. No, he just can't. You're his better half, his love, the one person he managed to care about in a trillion years, the only person he'll consider his equal remember? You can't leave him now...

Doing all he can, he rips off some of his clothes or anything that he can use to wrap your wound. He doesn't exactly know how to drive so, quickly he'd force someone to drive both of you to the hospital.

Holding a knife out, he holds you close behind the driver's seat.

"Whoa man. I don't want any trouble..." The driver spoke in a panicked state, seeing the bloody mess you both are in.

"DRIVE TO THE HOSPITAL NOW!!" He shouts loudly from behind, pointing the knife to the drivers neck.

"Okay! Okay.." The driver mutters under his breath.

"AND SPEED IT UP WILL YA!?" Bill shouts once more, slightly making the edge of the knife touch the drivers neck for a second.

The driver complied and stepped on the gas pedal, making the car speed up greatly.

(Bills POV)

Flashing by the pastures of the town, Bills gaze landed on your unconscious body. A pang of... guilt? No, a pang of extreme worry, he guessed, was all he could feel right now. Although there might be a tinge of anger in between for that stupid meatsack...

You really got him more messed up huh? All this commotion just for you. He hasn't been able to feel this way in an incredibly long time, he's never gone out of his way to actually do something like this, so please, for what's left of his sanity deep inside, please be okay.

Fixing your position, a few strands of your hair then manages to cover your face. After placing it back behind your ears, he held your chin for moment as he felt a slight twinge of discomfort seeing you so lifeless.

Once you both got to the hospital, he pushed through the doors and demanded a doctor to treat you right away, almost triggering security guards to lunge at him, but fortunately, they saw your critical state and directed a team to take care of both of you.

"THIS ISN'T MY BLOOD, JUST GO AND HELP HER!" Bill spoke, pushing a few nurses off him.

----√---√---√---√---

He was restless the whole time. Walking back and forth his mind managed to make him feel even worse as he thought about the great possibility of losing you.

What if you lost too much blood? What if something wrong happened while the healthcare workers are treating you? What if you actually died right after they took you? What if-

Shaking his head, he forces himself to calm down, taking deep breaths as he fiddled anxiously while he continued to stand near the door separating him and you. 'Relax! It's okay...it's not a big deal...' He thought, quickly trying to make peace of the worst possible thing that could happen.

Looking down at his hands, he held his fingers together, touching your dried blood on his palm. Standing quietly, he continued to wait, strangely taking comfort on the only thing he could associate to you.

Sooner or later, a few people managed to farce him to go clean up and take a shower as this was a hospital after all. The blood staining his clothes was not at all welcome. Begrudgingly, he did end up complying. He would never have done so, but he knew he had to if he wanted to see you.

Quickly stealing clothes from somewhere, he went back to his post as soon as he got cleaned.

...

After a few more hours, his mind could not let him rest at all. Sitting impatiently outside, waiting for someone to let him see you again.

Finally, after a long wait, a nurse approached him, "Hello...Mr..?"

"Cipher." He spoke in a passive but eerily empty tone, it seems he couldn't hold out his charm right now as his worries managed to eat him up when he was waiting.

"Ms. Cipher is now stabilized" the nurse spoke, assuming both of you are together, "You can now go inside."

Quick on his feet, his quirky smile appeared once more as he saw you. You were not awake yet, but it was enough for him to feel relieved.

(End POV)

After Bill entered the room, he absolutely refused to go out right after. Not until...

Fluttering open, like a butterfly starting to spread it's wings to soar through the air, you opened your eyes slightly to see... him. Blinking even more, you woke up feeling groggy.

He held your chin up to him, his smile seeming genuinely joyful to see you.

"There you are..." He mumbled under his breath.

"Good morning sleeping beauty!" he spoke, the window behind him showing the dark night sky, "You had quite the hit there..."

"Good evening to you too?" You spoke, still trying to register where you are.

"Aww don't you recognize your old pal?" He made a triangle shape with his hands, before bending down near you and placing his eye in the middle of the shape to make his thin pupil more noticable.

Rasing your eyebrows, you slowly start to become more active as a smile sprouted on your face, "Bill!"

Standing straight, he fixed himself slightly,

"Yep, the one and only!"

Slowly looking around, your mind registers the hospital room you're now in. Hearing the heart rate monitor, you quickly get reminded by the wound on your stomach.

Thinking about it, you mind quickly connected the dots, "Then that would mean-"

"Yeah, yeah, it's not a big deal toots!" He spoke, adjusting his outfit once more.

"Still though, thank you." You spoke, continuing to smile up at him.

"Well, when you get out, remember to pay me back okay?" He spoke, in a joking manner, before giving you a wink.

You chuckle at his remark, nodding your head slightly.

----√----√----√----

Right after that day, the same person who slit your stomach came by to apologize to you. You soon found out how you even got wrapped into this mess. The person did end up paying all your hospital bills though but right after that, you never saw that person again.

Night after night, you'd always get visited by Bill Cipher himself. Maybe as an apology or some sort of penance, he'd always manage to make your dreams relaxing and more amazing. If you mention it, he'd flat out ignore you and make your dream even more amazing to distract you.

Although he doesn't talk about it, you do notice his clinginess level reach even higher than before. He'd subtly sneak tiny compliments here and there, he's always near you in your dreams, he'd frequently try to visit you in real life by possessing the same person he used in the hospital.

You're also not entirely sure if it's his doing, however, you found yourself to be quite lucky a bunch of times. When you're about to get hurt, you or something else often manages to stop anything from hurting you. Perhaps it's just luck, however something tells you it's most likely not.

[leonw4nter]

been obsessed with ur fics relating to Taylor’s songs 🥺 can u do one with ‘sl/t’? Just a good ole fluffy fic.

My Cuddly Eldritch Boyfriend!

Eldritch Horror!RE2R!Leon x F!Reader

“Ah yes, my human female companion, I believe I am required to inform you of my whereabouts for today. Since we have run out of the minuscule jar of the chocolate-hazelnut spread you quite enjoy consuming with sliced bread, I had to leave our shared den and purchase some for you. It appears that I have underestimated the price of such delicacy for the bills I have pocketed fell short of a few more dollars,” your boyfriend Leon happily recounted as he showed you the large tub of sandwich spread that he bought earlier today. “Boyfriend”, rather, if he can be considered that.

Leon waltzed into your life quite interestingly, a little more differently than most boyfriends do in the lives of others who have them. You were trapped in an unhappy relationship, the kind where you had to beg to be shown affection and got scolded for buying yourself little goodies like a funny little pond jewelry dish. He was always on his gaming computer or out with his buddies for beer and snacks, yelling at you over the phone whenever you refused to lend him more money. You went home one evening, after a draining workday, to see your “boyfriend” quietly cleaning around the house and stopping to greet you good evening and ask you about your day. It’s quite the contrast to go from an “annoying clingy hoe” to “human female companion” but the latter is leagues better than the other words hurled at you. Leon isn’t even the name of your former boyfriend, wherever he is now; this replacement simply decided to name himself. You know you should be looking for your former partner, wherever he is, but you don’t want to. You’re more than happy with Leon and you wouldn’t want another undeserving girl to fall into the suffocating clutches of your ex.

“A lady has also offered me a small slice of processed meat– a sausage, it is called. Seasoned pork meat rolled into logs, a cut skewered into an infinitesimally slim stake referred to as ‘toothpick’. It is quite delectable, I must admit, but I haven’t any payment in my pockets so I had to politely decline her offer,” he continues recalling. You take out your phone and google a word: “infinitesimally”. This is another of the changes you noticed with your boyfriend: his lexicomane speech; you would never hear words the likes of ‘infinitesimally’ and ‘minuscule’ from him, intelligent phraseology is not in his vocabulary. A few days after the swap of boyfriends, you found yourself having to install a dictionary app on your phone in order to keep up with his sesquipedalian use of words and engage in conversation. You smile, finally spotting the definition of the word: extremely small.

“That’s great, Leon. We still have some sausage in the freezer, though, so I think it’s only right that you didn’t get some coz we might’ve ended up with far too much,” you respond as you set your phone down on the counter. “What brand was it though? I might pick that up for you next time around when I go for groceries.”

“Hm,” he hums in thought.

His human appearance appears to slightly glitch as he delves deeper into his recollections of the day earlier; he appears to have a chromatic aberration, multiple shadows of his head moving about and twitching around in smoky wisps, as several muffled voices of ancient chanting begin to grow a little bit more noticeable in volume. You grow worried yet you stay seated on your chair, carefully observing Leon before anything too out of control and mind-shattering occurs. Thankfully, he finally manages to remember before the voices get too overwhelming for your human mind.

“I believe it was called ‘MorningStar’,” he finally says. He falls silent, head tilting as his face grows expressionless. “Are you alright, girlfriend?”

He steps closer and sits in front of you, back straight and hands in his lap as he continues to observe you thoughtfully, the gears in his head turning to determine how to approach you.

“Oh, yes, Leon. Don’t worry, just zoned out a little. That’s all,” you respond with a forced smile that doesn’t convince him entirely.

“Have you finally observed that I have left the bathroom light bulb switched on during the entirety that I was out purchasing goods to consume?” he quietly asks, voice laced with guilt and shame as he looks at you with something akin to puppy-dog eyes; you didn’t know that eldritch horrors are capable of giving puppy-dog eyes. “I apologize with utmost remorse, my human female mate. In my haste to please you, I have overlooked a step in securing your household utilities.”

You wonder what is the connection between his previous concern for you and the most recent sentence he just uttered then it occurred to you that he wanted to delay admitting to  you that he forgot to switch off the lights; Leon must’ve also forgotten that humans don’t have the level of perception as whatever his kind has, or maybe he assumed that you and you alone possessed that ability. You never would have known if he didn’t bring it up to you. It is funny to see this eldritch being that was clearly trying to pass off as human, as if you had the power of the universe in your palm and could so easily kick him out into the streets, a look on his face now reminiscent of a kicked puppy. It appeared as if he shrank into his olive green sweater, hiding into the warm and dark depths that the piece of clothing offered. Now his ashamed aura was seeping into you, making you feel a slight tinge of what he’s feeling.

“Leon, it’s fine, okay? We’re still in one piece and nothing too bad happened. Besides, I have enough money to comfortably pay off utility expenses so there’s nothing much to worry about,” you reassure him with a gentle hand to his firm shoulder, feeling the spot unwind from the tension beneath your warm palm. “That happens to me too and I get frustrated sometimes but now I just laugh at it.”

He lights up again and that aura of despair fizzles away lickety-split. He beams again, a little too widely for what could be considered normal. He continues rambling on about sausages before asking you about your workday and leaning in to listen intently; you talk and talk, he sits and devotes all his attention to you and answers too, from time to time. He’s a lot more engaging and present when it comes to talking about yourself than your former boyfriend; all he’d talk about is himself and how you’re lucky he loves you, the occasional comparison to other girls. When you’re finally finished talking about your day, it’s Leon's turn to talk about his.

You don’t want to tell him that he’s not perfect on trying to pass off as another ordinary human being– he still tends to unhinge his jaw when he gets excited, his form glitches when he’s deep in thought, he refers to you as ‘human female mate’ or ‘human female companion’ or simply ‘girlfriend’ though in a manner free of offensive intentions, he likes to change the shades of his blue irises, and his verbose vocabulary. Other than the multiloquent manner that he converses in, no one seems to pick up on the irregularity of his physical form, not even when there’s faint shadows of his head fluctuating when he thinks; surely he’s travelling to universes beyond human comprehension just to figure out an answer to “what’d you think of the new Deadpool and Wolverine movie?”. You guess that he’s conjuring some form of illusion that mask slip-ups in his form but why this doesn’t apply to you, you’re not exactly sure but you don’t plan on telling him his lapses; you’re perfectly content with him cooling up your drink with his hand alone in a matter of seconds when you’re out together. He’s far from perfecting the image of a totally human boyfriend but you’re slightly positive that he’s the most perfect lover.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

“I would like to relish in the amusement of motion pictures with sound alongside you on our couch,” Leon expresses in mild emotion though he seems quite eager to watch movies, just phrased in a more archaic fashion.

“Me too” you respond with a small giggle at his unintentionally goofy personality. “Got a movie in mind?”

“Movie? Ah, yes. The moving images,” he recalls. “I have overheard this title from a young couple I happened to share a bus with, Kate and Leopold, they said. Appertaining to this hearsay statement, it must be a picture that thoroughly imprints itself on the heart and mind.”

“Kate and Leopold?” you say out loud and he nods. “Sure, why not. C’mon let’s head to the living room.”

“Of course,” he responds with an enthusiastic smile as he gets up from his dining room chair and quietly pushes it back before trailing behind you like the lovecraftian horror puppy that he is.

You put on the movie, both settling into a comfortable silence, attention centered on the film on your TV. In the middle of the film, you realize how you are quite near to him yet he does not make advances to touch you as he appears content with your shoulders touching. You sit up, inching closer to his side yet you don’t make this all simultaneous as you don’t want to shock him into discomfort. Much to your pleasant amazement, he not-so-subtly extends his arm behind your neck and rests it there. You look at his head and his face is still trained on Leopold chasing the snatcher, though the tips of his ears are dusted with a faint bloom of pink; who knew that cosmic beings could blush. Now slightly more confident, he slowly tries to urge you closer to the warmth of his side though he’s now hesitant with his actions. You snuggle closer to his side and now his hand is comfortably resting on the side of your arm where his silvery touch sends a flurry of tingles. Leopold and Kate are now sharing a kiss on a rooftop after a waltz to which your heart nearly goes into overdrive; Leon is not faring any better, visibly red-faced and overcome with butterflies that press up against his lungs (if he has any), making breathing feel a little funny. You wonder if he’s mentally replacing the characters with you and him and the image makes him feel madly excited.

“Leon, are you cold?” you ask towards the movie’s nearing end.

“No, but are you?” he counters, turning to face you now.

“Kinda.”

“Would you like me to fetch some for you?”

“No, no, it’s fine. I can get it myself–”

Something heavy and weighted and fuzzy envelopes you from the chest down, placed down by the man beside you.

“What’s this?” you ask in a slightly raised voice.

“A blanket,” he responds in a nonchalant manner.

“Why is it so heavy? I know weighted blankets exist but this one’s a little heavier than what I’m used to…”

“It’s bear fur.”

You fall silent, staring down at the brown fur mass laid above your body before staring back up at him, silently asking if this is his form of a prank. Unfortunately, he is serious about this.

“Um… Leon, I appreciate the blanket but I generally prefer faux fur to actual animal-sourced fur. It’s, you know, more wildlife friendly… yeah, um…”

You need not to say more when the blanket is still brown but is now clearly made of faux fur, having changed it right away without arguments or insults hurled at you. He seems satisfied with his service, adjusting the blanket to cover you up properly without obstructing your view of the movie. You offer to share the blanket but he objects, tomato-faced as he stutters his apology.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

The movie is finished and he smiles, remarking on how the couple was correct about their opinions and recounting some of the lines that stuck to him. He seemed to especially adore the portion where Kate is enchanted by the sight of Leopold on horseback, most excitedly analyzing the scene and going into detail about the look of love and the twinkle of Kate’s eyes before sighing dreamily.

“I wish to one day flawlessly emulate the depth of emotion she captured with only both her eyes, though I am well-aware that this is all expert acting. It would be my pleasure to one day look at you with such adoration as you tell me tales for there is nothing more that I desire than to enlighten you about the boundless worship that I present to you,” he wistfully conveys as he watches you walk around the bedroom before settling down to lay beside him.

You softly giggle, biting your lip as his voice bounces off in the walls of your mind and plays over and over again.

“Thank you. You’re doing a great job at that already honey,” you sincerely respond to him as you slip under the sheets and get snug.

“Your welcome,” he softly murmurs as a dopey smile points the corners of his lips skyward.

You ask if you can switch the bedside lamp off and he nods, the darkness of the room taking over as your eyes adjust to the lack of light. You lay still and silent before quietly wishing him a good night and restful sleep, to which he returns before he shifts and faces his back to you. Sometime in the middle of the night Leon awakens to the warmth and weight of your head and arms on his chest, the sight of you causing a human warmth to bloom where a human heart would be. You are peaceful and delicate, basking in the warmth that his form offered; the fact that you sought him out in your sleep made him feel loved, a feeling he didn’t know he’d grow to constantly crave. He pulls you closer and delicately wraps his arms around you in a protective embrace, a soft purr humming from his chest– an actual purr, like a cat’s. He strokes your hair with a silvery touch, daintily patting strands as he thinks about the fragility of his human and how he’d need to be very careful with them. His silky hands cause you to drift between the world of sleep and waking consciousness, growing more aware of his purr. You’re not new to his purring; he purrs when you two hold hands while running errands together, he purrs when you refer to him as your boyfriend to other people, he purrs when he finds out that you bought him a snack he likes. He has yet to discover that humans do not and cannot purr, that’s why you aren’t returning his physical display of contentedness but he’s satisfied that you’re letting him hold you like this. You don’t mind his purring at all and you’re firm on the decision that you love him and that he loves you back.

NOTE - First off, thank you to the anon who requested this!! I hope this one reached your expectations, even if I did put a little twist to it :)) guys... I think we're back!!! coz I decided to start on this last night at around 11:30 PM and I rlly had my creative juices flowing, like it just occured to me so clearly so now ig I'm going to start quite late into the evening if I'm going to start something new :D this fic is inspired by the eldritch horror boyfriend prompts that I came across on TikTok and also bc I felt like writing Leon rlly poetic and soft tonightt teehee :3 That's it and and I hope you really enjoyed this fic :)) Thank you for reading my works!!!!!!!!!! I <3333 UUUUUU!!!!!!!!!

The dainty chain dividers are made by @cafekitsune , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

[urprettylittlething]

Stuffed Full

Yandere - Gojo Satoru x CursedKitty! Reader x Geto Suguru

A/N - Again another part of CursedKitty universe! This is basically a smut series at this point but im not complaining lmao, this was partly requested by a lovely anon, which i also mixed with a request from someone on AO3 <333 Ty my lovess, ive been so busy recently and ive been getting little sleep but ive finally got another part for you all, they seem to get longer and longer lmao, And thank you all so much for all the love on my CursedKitty Universe <3333 It means a lot to me that you all enjoy it so much, i love to read any comments you guys leave it really makes my day :,) <333333 Ily all so much i hope you enjoy my second written smut ever </3 If you want to request anything feel free! <3

summary - You beg them for cock so don't be surprised when you get two.

warnings - she kinda begs for it so ig consensual? But Dubcon to be safe, female anatomy, smut, two cocks in one hole, double stuffed, clit play, squirting, a lot of cum, lots of praise, dumbification? i think so, very vague yandere vibes but theres something there, crying during sex, overstimulation? probably, shes desperate lol, heat vibes, (let me know if i need to add more please)

genre - Oneshot

wc - 2.3k

-not edited yet, will be soon-

It’s the end of the day when Geto and Gojo come back to see Kitty. They arrive at the high end apartment complex and start making their way up to the top. It’s paid for by Gojo who has the most money amongst the two of them, but Geto pitches in with the bills every now and then and food stock when they want to stay here instead.

It wasn’t often that they’d use Gojos apartment, but it was nice for some privacy every now and then. True privacy. It was also good during their vacation times. It’s especially come in handy now that they have a cute little kitty to look after. 

They only keep things stocked really for them since Kitty doesn't need to eat any human food, but every now and then she gets curious about the snacks they eat. Being able to smell the scent of the chicken broth, or Gojo’s sweets looking particularly alluring with bright colors and fluffy insides. 

So they’d feed her every now and then while she has fun enjoying the new tastes and textures in her mouth. Besides, they have fun too, pulling her into their laps and squeezing her hips and flesh while she nibbles on the soft sweets in their hands and licks the remaining scraps off of their fingers. 

When they get to the door Gojo begins unlocking it and they make their way inside. Runes decorate the door on the inside, as well as every window in the apartment. Just a precaution they’re taking to ensure she doesn't accidentally escape, to keep her contained.

Gojo lets his bag slump to the floor while he stretches obnoxiously, looking forward to the entire week off they have with Kitty. Geto trails in behind him and actually hangs his bag up, closing the door behind him he calls out, “Kitty cat, where are you?” 

A shuffle and thump could be heard down the hallway before the pitter patter of bare feet on the floor could be heard coming towards them. When Kitty rounds the corner she practically pounces on the first person she can see.

Her hands immediately gravitate towards Getos trousers, where she tries tugging and pulling on them in an attempt to get to what's inside. 

A startled sound escapes Geto as he instinctively grabs onto her wrists and pulls her hands away from his dick. Now holding her squirming arms in the air his brows furrow as he looks to Gojo. 

“Don’t look at me!” he says, holding his own hands up in the air in a mocking act of surrender. He’s leaned up against the back of the couch, one leg hooked over the other as he watches on in amusement from behind his glasses. “What’s got her so riled up?”

Geto huffs and looks back down at the squirming curse in his arms. She’s resorted to crying, large drops of tears trickling down her cheeks and dripping off of her chin. Her bottom lip is wobbling and she's looking up at Geto almost pleadingly. 

The more the two men take in the curse the more they notice and the more curious they get. They notice the light sheen of sweat glistening on her skin, the way her thighs try and rub themselves together and the sticky wet sounds they make when they do. 

Geto seems to clock it a second before Gojo does. Cooing down at the Kitty caught in his arms he practically purrs, “Awh, such a good kitty, were you trying to ask for my cock? Is that it? Need my cock to make yourself feel better?”  

She's blubbering, pretty tears still falling down her cheeks as her hands still try and squirm away from his hold. She seemed to register his words at least somewhat as she looked down to his trousers again before looking back up at him with those begging eyes.

God, he can already feel himself hardening in his boxers. 

“Oh? Kitty is asking to be stuffed, is she? This is a first.” Gojo says, already standing up and making his way to the bedroom. 

Geto follows shortly behind him, lightly dragging Kitty along with him as she fumbles over her steps, his strides being bigger than hers. He hums in response to Gojo. Gently sitting Kitty down onto the ruffled sheets. It's clear she was in them before they got home. 

Gojo grabs onto Kitty and pulls her further up the bed, pushing her onto her front when she tries to grab at his trousers as well. He keeps his hand on her head and pulls her hips up with the other, flipping the loose shirt over her ass and hips to rest on her arched back. 

Her hips wiggle and Gojo groans. He brings one hand up to massage her ass, fondling and gripping the flesh. “She’s dripping Sugu.” He murmurs, voice dropping a few octaves and becoming husky. 

Her tail had been curled around one of her thighs the entire time, some of the fur wet with slick as it uncurled itself and rested against her back, the tip flicking back and forth every now and then.

His hand pushing her head into the sheets briefly massages her scalp when she starts whining, becoming restless. A gentle purr starts up in her chest while her ears flatten against her head but she still continues to squirm. 

“Okay Kitty, don't worry you’ll get your milk soon.” He brings the hand that was groping her flesh to his zipper, pulling down his trousers just past his hips, his boxers following shortly after. He spits in his hand and takes his already hard cock, giving himself a few quick pumps before lining himself up to her pulsing hole and pushing his way in. 

He leans over her, one hand still keeping her head down while the other goes back to gripping onto her hip, no doubt bruising the flesh beneath his fingers. His glasses slide down his nose as he finishes sheathing himself inside of her.

Her little hands are resting either side of her head while gripping the sheets beneath. Her eyes are half lidded and small pants leave her open mouth, leftover tears dribble over her water line and soak into the sheets below her.

Gojo groans squeezing his eyes shut tight while his chest heaves, her tight walls still trying to suck him in further while they pulsate and flutter around his hard cock. 

When his eyes open again he catches Geto’s gaze from where he's standing at the edge of the bed in front of Kitty’s head. “You didn’t waste any time, huh?” he says while raising an eyebrow. 

“I was already hard and besides, she was begging for it.” Gojo responds after catching his breath. 

“You didn’t even prep her.”

“She can take it.” 

“Can she?”

“Are you jealous I got here first Sugu?”

Geto goes quiet for a second at that while they stare each other down. It’s only when Kitty starts trying to move her hips and whine again that he speaks up. “So what if I am?” 

It’s Gojos turn to go quiet for a second until he blurts out, “I’m sure she can take two.”

Geto stares at him in shock as a small smirk graces Gojos face, his glasses slid down far enough that his eyes are exposed. A glint of mischief and lust present in the irises.

Geto sighs before smirking himself, “I guess we’ll find out.” 

Gojo huffs out a laugh before reaching under Kitty and pulling her up with him so they're both kneeling on the sheets. She yelps when he pulls her up, his cock moving inside of her, before leaning against his chest. He rests his head between her fluffy ears while watching Geto climb onto the bed and kneel in front of Kitty. 

Geto unzips his trousers and pulls them just below his hips exactly like Gojo did. The impatience getting to him as he eyes her dripping pussy being stuffed full with Gojos cock. He brings one hand between her legs to swirl loose circles around her engorged clit while he pulls his cock out. 

Kitty squeals and her hips jolt at the sudden contact of his cold fingers to her hot flesh. She begins mewling at the consistent pleasure to her nub while Gojos cock presses against all her sensitive spots from inside. Her ears are pressed flat to her head while she twitches and gasps in his arms. Her hands grasping on tightly to the arm wrapped around her middle holding her up.

“Can feel her squeezing me.” Gojo murmurs into her hair, head tilted slightly so he can watch Getos fingers pleasure the cursed kitty in his arms. 

Geto shuffles forward a bit more so he's pressed against Kittys front, her perky breasts squished between them while he stops circling her clit to rest the hand on her hip. The hand still gripping tight on his cock guids it to her already stuffed hole. 

“It’s going to be a tight fit.” Is all he says before trying to squeeze his way inside the desperate Kitty they caught. 

She wails at the extra intrusion, Gojo trying to calm her down with hushes and coos, using his hands to caress her flesh. When Geto is about half way in he stops for a second to groan and pant, murmuring about how tight she is before pushing the rest of the way in.

Kitty squeals at the feeling, being stuffed full with two cocks overwhelming her senses. She's mewling and blubbering, the pretty tears from before had returned to caress her cheeks. Geto joins Gojo in rubbing and whispering to Kitty, giving her a second to get used to them together. They weren’t that cruel. 

Gojo brings his hands up to fondle and massage her Kitty ears, helping her relax faster as a small purr tries building in her chest, Geto continuing his caresses over her hips, sides of her breasts, shoulders and back. 

It’s Gojo that starts moving first, beginning to thrust in her tight walls the smallest amount. Geto’s breath catches at the feeling before he begins to do the same. 

They’re alternating between thrusts, whenever Gojo pulls out a bit, Geto pushes in. They’ve resorted to resting their hands on parts of her flesh to give them something to hold onto as they pick up the pace. 

Gojo has one hand on her hip and the other arm wrapped around her middle. Geto has one hand on the other hip and the other hand holding the back of her head, pressing her into him more.

The more their pace picks up, the louder Kitty gets, sputtering and gurgling between the two of them, gasping and mewling as well. Her little pussy was stretched to its limit, pulsing and gushing at the unrelenting pleasure. It was getting easier and easier for the two to move inside her from all the slick she was producing.

When they’re finally at a consistent pace they both lean down to whisper and murmur in her ears, barely making out words of, “Such a good girl.”, “Such a pretty little Kitty, taking us so well.”, “Letting us fuck you at the same time, naughty Kitty.”, “ You’re my perfect little curse aren’t you?”, “God, listen to your pussy taking us so well.”

Neverending praises being fed to her while they pounded her with their cocks.

She's almost sobbing by the time they’re about to cum, her chest heaving, cheeks and chest flushed, eyes lidded while the tip of her tongue pokes out of her mouth, droplets of tears still fresh in her eyes.

When the two of them start panting and groaning, their rhythm starts to get sloppy, one of them reaching down with two fingers to rub and flick over the exposed nub. The juices that have dripped onto the sheets below provide more than enough lube to smoothly glide over the flesh. 

They can both feel her tense up around them, an inhuman shriek leaving her as her whole body shakes. Gojo throws his head back and starts fucking into her with a rabid pace, chasing his orgasm with Geto. Her walls suddenly tense up further, almost making it impossible for them to move as her walls pulse and gush fluid, squirting out juices onto both of their cocks and soaking the sheets below them.

Kitty goes limp between the two of them. Holding her up while they finish groaning and moaning, fucking their orgasm up into her.

None of them move or say anything for a few minutes after they finish cumming. Leaning against each other while they try and catch their breath. 

Eventually Gojo pulls out, bringing a whine out of the overstimulated Kitty in his arms. More of her juices, now mixed with their cum, drip from her hole, onto the ruined sheets below and down the length of Getos cock which was still inside of her. 

No one says anything as Geto shuffles the both of them up the bed a little before collapsing onto his back, Kitty tucked into his chest with an arm going around her back and the other burying itself into her hair to massage the base of her ears. 

A few light mewls escape her as another gentle purr begins building up in her chest, content now after being stuffed to the max. 

Gojo comes back a few minutes later, collapsing into a pile on the sheets next to the pair after having run a bath for them all to relax in.

He looks over at the two, making eye contact with Kitty as she gazes at him with half lidded eyes. The small purr audible if you listen in closely. Gojo reaches over with one hand to caress her cheek. Dancing the tips of his fingers under her eyes and down the sides of her face. 

“We really picked a cutie, didn't we Sugu?” Gojo murmurs. 

Geto hums in response, voice husky, “Never letting her go.”

Gojo huffs a laugh as he brings his hand back to join the other tucked behind his head. “Wouldn't dream of it. Our pretty little curse.” 

[httpkaulitz]

high enough

PAIRINGS: Vampire!Bill x Female reader

CONTENT: Smut

SYNOPSIS: Bill is a little addicted to you.

WARNINGS: mention of addiction, mention of blood and bite, manipulation, fingering, oral (f receiving)

You met Bill by chance, after another day of work you were coming home and literally bumped into him. Staggering and somewhat disoriented, he didn't know where he was.

Against all your thoughts of self-preservation you took him home and took care of him.

When Bill told you he was a vampire, you thought he was crazy and when he showed you what he was you strangely remained calm. Somehow you felt like he wouldn't hurt you. And he never did.

All the blood he had from you was given to him willingly. You wanted to help him and so you did.

And it was by wanting to help him that you ended up in this situation.

"What do you want?" Bill asked impatiently.

"What I want?" You repeated, looking at yourself in the mirror. "Nothing. I'm happy."

He let out a frustrated groan before taking a deep breath. You watched him straighten up, though the action was considerably less intimidating. His bleached blonde hair was disheveled and tangled with a light sweat on his forehead.

"Damn it." You observed. “you’re worse than an addicted.”

“Brilliant deduction! Do you want a fucking medal?” You raised an eyebrow.

Bill slapped his face, rubbing his stubble tiredly.

“Can’t you just help me?” He was always ready to dramatize, you already knew his tactics. You turned to him.

“We have already had this discussion. No." You said firmly.

"I can give you-." He started to speak but you interrupted him before he could even continue his speech about how good he could be and give you expensive things that you never had. You've been through this before.

"Nothing." You interrupted, crossing your arms. “I don't want anything from you, Bill. I like my life. I like my boyfriend. I like my job. There is nothing I want from you that can change my mind. Plus, I’m pretty sure I can think of a handful of humans who would be more than willing…”

“I DON’T WANT ANY IDIOTS OFF THE STREET!” His jaw was tense. If he applied more force, you'd think he might break his molars. “I want your blood. Yours. Do I need to spell this out for you?”

He approached you, brown eyes glaring at you.

"Please." His voice was almost pleading.

Inhaling silently, you studied him with half-closed eyes.

A second later and you shook your head.

“There is nothing special about my blood. You're being needy because I was there for you when no one else was. It was my mistake. I won't let that happen again.”

Before he could lift a finger, your arm flew forward. Either he was too weak to fight back or he wasn't even trying. Whatever the reasoning, you were easily able to make him fall back into a chair.

He didn't seem surprised by the gesture, nor did he try to fight it.

“I’m going to meet my boyfriend.” You said approaching him. “When I come back, you will be gone.”

“Liebe.” He whispered with furrowed brows and doe eyes.

“Bill, stop. You're better than that." You paused, grimacing. “I'm serious, control yourself.”

His head fell back and despite your better judgment, you went to his side. The last thing you needed was a drugged-out vampire in your apartment.

The moment one of your hands wrapped around the back of his head, Bill grabbed your wrist.

The pressure was gentle but sticky. His reddish brown eyes tried to mask a poorly concealed despair. Both pupils were dilated.

"You know." He drawled, bringing the back of your hand to his cheek. "You're my favorite human."

“I’m not yours.” You corrected, unable to not find his attention somewhat amusing.

“Oh, but you are.” He snapped and you rolled your eyes, the stubble rubbing against the skin of your hand like sandpaper. “It means your blood is very special. You are my special human. I don’t want anyone’s blood but yours.”

He continued stroking your hand. You found it slightly disturbing and strangely adorable.

“Quick fix.” He whimpered softly, pulling your fingers up to his lips as he blinked rapidly. “Just a taste will be enough for me. I won’t bother you again after this.”

You let out a pained gasp, your thumb thoughtlessly brushing his upper lip. He responded by kissing the tip of your thumb.

“I won't do it again. This is the last time, okay?” You always said that and you both pretended to believe it. The truth is, you couldn't say no to him even if you tried.

"Sure." He agreed, releasing your hand. "Last time."

                      ✮✮✮✮✮✮✮

“Oh, Jesus, not again.” You exclaimed impatiently.

This time, he was lying in your bed, with the sheets piled up beside him. Your comforter was thrown somewhere on the floor.

“Liebe.” He greeted you lazily. Despite knowing his name, he never used it. Always using some German word that you didn't know what it meant. “I'm glad you're here. Would you mind giving me some liquid?”

You shook your head in disbelief.

"Unless you want me to piss in your mouth, I suggest you get out of here." You responded sarcastically without patience.

“Piss in my mouth?” He repeated slowly. Without warning, he burst into laughter, fingers gripping the sheets in delight.

You made a mental note to change them after he left.

“I’m an eccentric bastard, but not that eccentric.” He said. “You said last time that you wouldn't donate again, but you don't understand. You don't understand the euphoria you give me. It’s… I imagine it’s magical.”

''I'm sure you can live without it.'' Spinning around, you quickly rid yourself of the shirt, tossing it onto a nearby chair. You took a deep breath, arms reaching for the ceiling. The position was maintained until you felt the pleasant burning in your muscles.

"But I do not want." He says thoughtfully.

“That doesn’t surprise me.” You mumbled, taking off your jeans.

He didn't respond to your joke. Instead, he got up from the bed. Not that you heard or noticed it.

Until you felt the unexpected pressure of two warm hands resting on your hips.

“Bill.” You warned, looking at him over your shoulder.

"Hmm?" He hummed, shamelessly pressing into you.

“Get off me.” You whispered seriously hoping he would respect your request.

"I don't want." His grip tightened. You tried to ignore his hardened length digging teasingly against your ass.

“I heard a rumor that you’re not happy with your little toy.” He whispered in your ear huskily. You were so shocked by his boldness that you ignored how your skin crawled.

"You don't have ri-."

"It is not?" Bill asked with a raised eyebrow. “I keep tabs on my favorite human.”

You weren’t sure if he was serious or bluffing.

��So, you have romance, flowers, blah, blah, etc.” He listed, two fingers slipping under the band of your panties but not going any further. “But when it comes to being naughty, he falls a little… boring.”

A calloused hand brushed against your ribcage, nails grazing the skin experimentally. Involuntarily, your breathing became shallow.

“A little sexually frustrated, aren’t you?” He continued.

You were ready to lift a heel and tap his toes when, without warning, he grabbed one of your breasts, smirking when you shivered.

“I could do anything you wanted.” He suggested, brushing the outline of your hard nipple with his thumb. “I could be a good boy for you, if you want. I could easily spend hours paying attention to your pretty pussy, you know. I spent a beautiful day or two thinking about it.”

His breath sent a wave of goosebumps across your shoulder.

“Playing with your clit. Sucking it. Making you all nervous. Always giving. I don't have to worry about my own needs. I’ll put my tongue to good use, ma’am.”

Your hips moved forward as the two previously inactive fingers slid across the opening, not penetrating but brushing the sensitive wetness with tantalizing intent.

Protesting the action would have been counterproductive. Despite Bill's irritating nature of manipulating and being a general jerk, his words were leaving you embarrassingly wet.

And that was what was confusing you.

“You are a pathetic addicted.” You tried to sound angry, but your voice came out shaky.

You felt his shrug before he rested his chin on your shoulder.

“You are my conflicted and sexually frustrated supplier. I don’t think we need to point fingers” He said amused.

Biting your lip, you forced yourself not to think about the hand massaging your breast or the two fingers caressing your pussy.

It was a trickery. The word alone made an unpleasant feeling of guilt in your stomach. Your boyfriend was a nice guy. Better than you dated in a long time. He treated you with a respect that's hard to find these days.

So, the sex wasn't the best. Was it really worth throwing away months of a well-paced relationship just for a few seconds of mindless pleasure? Especially with Bill, of all people!

You may not be the best person in the world, but you tried to be good.

On the other hand, befriending him wasn't exactly a step in that direction.

“Mistress?” He was gone. There was no longer Bill in that tone.

You would have found his submission more comical if it hadn't worried you so much. And it intrigued you more than anything.

“I’ll be a good boy, I promise.” He insisted. “Our little secret. Fair deal, I guess. In fact, I'll give you a free sample.”

Unexpectedly, he removed both of his hands and moved away from you. The disappointment you felt at the loss of contact was not something you wanted to reflect on.

You saw him kneel before you, his eyes wide but focused. More focused than you usually witnessed when he craved your blood.

"Come here." He gestured.

When you stayed still, he snorted softly. With a few quick movements, he knelt so he was eye level with your hips.

You knew what he was about to do. This, perhaps, was the worst part. You knew and you felt…excited. Relieved, even. For the first time in months, you were about to receive as much as you gave. Appropriately.

It was selfish and terrible, but equally thrilling and exciting.

“Open your legs a little for me, baby.” You did as he said, teeth firmly gripping your bottom lip.

"My God, you've been a lecherous young lady, haven't you?" Bill smiled, hands steadying himself on your hips.

"Shut up." You mumbled, ignoring his embarrassment.

"Yes ma'am." His fingers hooked into the elastic and slowly slid your panties down. The entire time, his tongue was stuck between his teeth while his eyes never left your pussy.

You took off your panties, almost shaking with excitement when he threw them over his shoulder.

“Hmm.” He marveled, tilting his head. "I was right. Beautiful."

The compliment made you not only blush but also become slightly irritated. Were your priorities really that far off?

That depressing thought spurred your next action.

Quickly, a hand grabbed Bill's hair by the roots. With a push, you pulled back, ensuring his eyes locked with yours.

“If you want my blood, you work for it. Got it?" You didn't even realize you had a dominant streak until Bill's obedient nod made you smile. “If I don't reach my high, you certainly won't reach yours.”

"Yes ma'am." He responded obediently. No sign of sarcasm or mockery.

You looked at him for a second longer and let go of his hair. Bill wasted no time.

It didn't take more than five minutes for you to cum. Whether this was a result of not having pleasure for so long or Bill's genuine talent, you weren't sure.

What you could be sure of, when a hand found his hair again and kept his tongue and lips attached to your clit, was that you were entirely willing to make that bargain again.

                     ✮✮✮✮✮✮✮

This arrangement lasted a solid month. Which surprised you. You thought the moral of exchanging blood for sexual acts would disgust you. At least enough to present a bigger argument the next time Bill showed up again. But that wasn't the case.

The next meeting was certainly a little awkward. You came home from your shift and found him sitting patiently on your bed. He didn't say anything. He just watched you as you tiredly took off your clothes. His submission was strange but attractive. It wasn't until you were blessed with a quiet Bill that you realized how much you appreciated him.

"How are you doing?"

It was strange, but you couldn't help but ask. Bill may have been an addicted and willing to do anything to get what you wanted, but he was still a living creature beneath that stupid desperation. Completely degrading him brought you no pleasure and wasn't something you felt completely comfortable doing.

“You won’t hurt me.” Bill complained. “I'm a big boy. Do your worst."

“Do you want a safe word?” Yet you asked.

“Unless you have plans to kill me, I really don’t see the point.” That was the last discussion about a safe word or words in general.

Bill came three times a week, sometimes four. Always when you were alone. His snark, thankfully, wasn’t present and he did everything you requested of him.

At first, you were careful about boundaries. The first week was spent mostly in your bed, with Bill buried between your thighs. He was surprisingly energetic, licking and sucking you like a hungry animal. His fingers were excited too, starting to pinch your clit and moving in and out of you at deliciously insane speeds.

No orgasms were faked, and if you were taking a while to cum, Bill worked with impressive voracity to ensure you reached your high.

That's what made you bolder.

In the second week, you ordered him to touch himself.

"What?" He asked confused.

"I want you to touch yourself." He studied you with half-closed eyes.

"You understand this isn't about my pleasure, right?"

"Yes. It's about mine. Drop your pants, sit on the chair and touch yourself.” Your voice didn't even tremble.

His confusion was evident, but he did as you asked.

As you guessed, watching him masturbate was a deeply satisfying sight. On some level, you wanted him to feel pleasure from this arrangement, but that had more to do with fascination. Fascination with being able to make someone bigger and stronger take off his underwear, sit down, spread his legs, wrap his hand around his generously sized cock and slowly start stroking himself. In front of you. Simply because you ordered it.

The control was intoxicating.

You didn’t ask him to do anything else after he climaxed with a strangled moan. And it was one of the first times you realized that Bill had no idea what your game was. Or at least why you were enjoying watching him cum.

The rest of the month followed roughly the same schedule. You would give him an order and after a brief but curious glance in his direction, Bill would obey.

Many of the commands required you to cum. At you request, Bill got into the habit of bringing a vibrator. Which he used on you very well.

Some days the commands were to get him out. You were creative and it was never the same way. True, he always touched himself, but sometimes it was kneeling on the bed or bending over a chair so you could admire his cute ass. Once, you even deprived him of his vision with a scarf, taking advantage of the slight uncertainty his hand felt when caressing himself.

By the four week, you were comfortable enough to ride his persistent tongue into pleasure without an ounce of shame or embarrassment.

On the days Bill didn't show up, you questioned what you were doing with him. In public and surrounded by friends, you were passive and sociable. On nights when the two of you were alone, you were loose and experiencing some serious dominance kink.

For a long time, you were puzzled and faintly appalled by your actions.

Then one night, it hit you.

When would you ever get that kind of sexual freedom again? That ability to explore what made your toes curl and grip the headboard until your mind went blank and your voice hoarse.

Nights with Bill made you feel liberated. They made you feel like a woman. The vampire never judged you, although in the end he received your blood, so that was his triumph.

Regardless, the ability to delve deeper into your sexuality and learn the new ways your body responded to stimulation was one of the biggest reasons you never withheld your blood from Bill.

If there was any guilt you held onto, it was because Bill did the things you asked for your blood, nothing more. It would have been nice if his actions were genuine. But he was an addicted, you reminded yourself.

This, when you looked back on the whole fiasco, was ultimately where you made an error in judgment. Assuming Bill regarded your meetings as nothing but a necessary task in order to gain the true source of pleasure: your blood.

In fact, you were completely unaware that after only two weeks together, he’d completely kicked his blood habit.

And that he was testing you.

It wasn’t until the month was complete that you found out why.

                         ✮✮✮✮✮✮✮

He wasn't sitting on the bed this time.

Instead, he was standing tall and physically looked immaculate. Hair combed, beard trimmed and he looked at you differently.

The moment you absorbed all these changes, you felt a distinct shift in power.

It was definitely not in your hands anymore.

“You look healthy.” You greeted. “Who finally got to talk you out of it?”

A part of you couldn't deny that you were a little disappointed. You sessions would probably come to an end. And the Bill before you certainly didn't look like he was taking orders.

But you weren't selfish enough to deny feeling genuine happiness that he was no longer an addicted. No one deserved to be a victim of this desire. Of course, he will always have to live with the desire to drink blood, but now in a controlled way.

“That’d be you, darling.” He revealed. “Put plenty of things in perspective for me.”

"Good." You encouraged, offering him a soft smile.

He continued watching you without blinking.

“See yourself in the mirror lately?” He asked.

Immediately, a hand patted your hair.

“Did a bird shit on my head again?” You walked over to the mirror, fingers examining you head.

Bill appeared behind you and stopped your search by grabbing your wrist.

You looked at him.

“Skin doesn’t have the vibrant glow it normally has.” He whispered calmly.

Eyebrows furrowed, you looked at yourself in the mirror.

Wow. How did you miss that?

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m flattered.” He continued. “Always giving me the amount of blood I ask for is not an easy task. Or a healthy one. But I can’t allow you to get hurt.”

You nodded absently. Your brain became more fuzzy at the consideration Bill was giving you.

"Why are you being nice?" You asked, looking at him warily.

“Like I said… I got a little perspective on things.” He replied.

“Do I need to be worried?” You asked apprehensively.

"Hardly. Not only have you fulfilled my needs, but you did so discretely. As an added bonus, you even made personal sacrifices. That right there... that's the way to a man's heart."

“I think you’re overestimating my worth.” You pulled your hand away. The conversation starting to make you uncomfortable.

“Honey, you’re underestimating yourself. Let me explain what happened last month to you. I was vulnerable, needy and weak. Instead of making a name for yourself - which I'm beginning to doubt even crossed your mind - and taking advantage of me, you quietly gave me my fix. With me so far?”

“Anyone would have done it.” You knew this was a lie the moment it passed your lips.

“Mm… I’m afraid not, liebe. I don’t find that kind of loyalty.” You weren’t sure if you should feel flattered or flustered.

“Now, this is where it gets interesting. After I got my addiction under control, I couldn't help but wonder why you were helping me. So selflessly, in fact.”

“I got off on telling you what to do.” You defended.

“No, I understand that part. But you started making small sacrifices.” Swallowing hard, you took a step back.

"Like what?" You asked confused.

"Well, like breaking up with your little toy, for example." Bill hummed in amusement.

“He didn’t deserve to be betrayed. It had nothing to do with you.” Bill smiled at that.

“If it weren't for my mouth on your pussy three times a week, you never would have let the poor guy go. I had a little input into that.” Something inside you twitched with discomfort and pleasure.

“So, as we saw, you neglected your appearance a little. You didn't even realize how much blood I was taking from you. And yet, you continued to give.” Taking a careful breath, you tried to get your thoughts in order.

"You deserved to get what came to me for." It seemed like a lame excuse, despite its veracity.

“And that’s the fun part!” Bill exclaimed. “This whole time you were under the impression that I hated it. I hated making you cum, I hated cumming while you watched, I hated the total attention you gave me. I'm not sure if you've heard, but I have a bit of an ego. And you caressed it until I was weak in the knees. You had so much control in your hands and had the courtesy to worry about my own pleasure. Not very mistressy of you, liebe.”

“If you were so confused about it, then why the hell didn’t you stop?” You retorted. “If you didn’t like me not playing my role, you should have stopped playing yours.”

“Ah, but I liked my role.” He assured, eyes slowly scanning your body. “In fact, if you knew how much I enjoyed it, you would be more worried about disappearing so I could never find you.”

"Are you-?" Your voice died in the middle of your throat.

“Ah, I left my favorite human speechless. Well, let’s see if I can remedy that.” Before you could blink everything went dark.

When you woke up you were in a huge room with incredibly expensive furniture. The place was well lit and looked very modern, you could see some paintings on the walls around it. The tables held a variety of food and drinks. Some, you noticed, were among your favorites.

Your mouth officially dropped open when you noticed it was king size and the sheets were brown. Also expensive, it seems. Above that, your eyes sharpened on the silk ties tied provocatively to the headboard. That was certainly a vision that spoke for itself.

“I will not be your mistress!” You argued, quickly getting up from the bed.

“I prefer the term girlfriend.” He didn't move from his seat once.

This gave you the confidence to try to escape. You ran towards the door but it was locked.

“Nice trick, isn’t it?” Bill mentioned, pride coloring his voice. “I blocked your exit, my dear.”

“Bill let me go.” With a tight frown, you stared at him.

“I will give you anything you want.” He promised. “In the meantime, you might consider this vacation a little more…permanent.”

“You are imprisoning me!” You screamed, anger burning through your veins.

"Keeping." He corrected. “I'm keeping you. Considerable difference in terminology.”

You tried to regain control of your breathing, but your current situation didn't allow for that.

“I like you, liebe.” Bill stated seriously. “You are charming, adventurous, and deceptively thoughtful. More than that, you are trustworthy. And has a sexual appetite that rivals mine.”

“And you couldn’t have told me that without kidnapping me?”

"Keeping." He remembered. “What would you honestly have done if I told you I was pretending to be an addicted because I was more addicted to you? Which sounds as terribly sentimental out loud as it does in my head. Shame. I thought it would translate better.”

You backed away until the backs of your knees hit the bed. Tremblingly, you sat up, palms hitting the sheets beneath you.

“I was kidnapped-.”

“-kept-,” Bill said helpfully.

“-all because I was…nice.”

Bill shrugged. "Opposites attract?"

You lost consciousness right after you finished laughing. Rest assured, you found the situation more grim than hilarious.

Sighing, Bill walked over to your unconscious form. He sat up and gently picked you up so you rested against his chest.

The urge to smile and grimace fought violently within him.

“This could have been worse.” He confessed, looking at you.

He rested his chin on your head. The desire to smile won. He was happy.

[bettyfrommars]

don't say you need me (it's understood)

vampire!steve x deliveryDriver!fem!reader

summary: you are a delivery driver who gets extra hazard pay to bring blood to the vampires of Crimson Alley, but this time, you get up the nerve to ask Steve for something you have always wanted. This story has a surprise ending and an appearance from vampire!eddie. Steve is not a typical vampire. Slightly True Blood au. wc:6.3k

18+ONLY, mature themes, Steve is a vampire but he is also something else, reader's first time feeding a vampire, smut, drinking blood, sensitive!steve, lovesick!steve, monsterfucking, doordash delivery for vampires, oral for all, reader wears a sportsbra, unprotected p in v, creampie, self-inflicted knife wound.

author's note: I've had this one in my wip's for a while, and it was going to drive me crazy if I didn't finish it. My Steve fics rarely see the light of day, but I can't stop writing them for some reason. This is my last little detour before I go back to working on my other series. Or, until I get distracted again, which will probably be in two minutes.

Part 2 smut extra Wolf Moon

Part 3 fluff request

The way you earned money lately was not your dream job, but it paid the bills.  Food delivery was a necessary evil with your life being as chaotic as it was.  The particular app you worked for paid better than the rest because of the “hazard pay” you accrued for some of the deliveries that required more “risk”.

The risk in question had you delivering blood to the local vampire population, most of which lived in a particular section of the city called Crimson Alley.  It wasn’t just an alley; there were apartment buildings and a long street full of picket fence houses, all with heavy, black out curtains over them during the day.  

One minute, you’re leaving tofu Pad Thai on someone’s doorstep, and the next—-you’re casually dropping off a grocery bag full of type O.  

It was dark, of course, when you made your final delivery before clocking out.  You took on as many deliveries to Crimson Alley as the app would allow, mostly because you needed the money, but also—you weren’t afraid of death.

Most of the vampire clients who signed up for deliveries on the app were decent, law abiding ghouls, but there had been two noted incidents where the vampire in question only wanted a live human to feed on, and ended up draining the delivery driver before disappearing into the night.

You told yourself they were just rumors, but also, you spent quite a bit of time ruminating on what the sensation of fangs breaking your skin would feel like.

The receipt stapled to the front of the paper bag from the blood bank said Harrington, and you matched it with the information on your phone before making your way up the sidewalk.  It was an old, vintage building with renovated apartments inside, and so you punched in the alarm code from the notes in your phone, waited for the beep, and then made your way up to C5.

Two female vampires were just leaving as you stepped into the foyer, and they seemed to be dressed for a night on the town.  You jumped back to make room for them, and they excused themselves with a laugh and a wave, fangs exposed, as if they were any other living humans going out for drinks. That was the great thing about vampire specific blood banks and the recently invented blood substitutes; fed vampires, for the most part, were happy vampires.  Sure, there were those who still lusted after the chase and the thrill of the kill, but most of the newer vampires were surprisingly chill.  

The customer requested that you hand the delivery directly to them, which meant you had to knock instead of just dropping it at the door and bolting.  

But, as your finger rose to touch the doorbell, the door opened, yanking back into the apartment so fast, and you scrambled back, startled, testing the handle of the bag with your vise grip.

“Oh, shit, sorry,” the vampire said, smiling around his fangs, wearing Wayfarer sunglasses even though it was dark outside.  “I didn’t mean to scare you, my bad.”

“You didn’t scare me,” you stiffened, shaking your head, hoping that was the correct answer, since the customer is always right.  

In the next few heartbeats, the two of you looked over each other.  Your vampire customer had a full head of lush, dark hair, just long enough to tuck behind his ears, and a solid, muscular frame.  He had on a white shirt that was of little contrast to his pale skin, rolled up to the elbows and unbuttoned to expose a swatch of chest hair, black pants that made it look like he was getting ready to go somewhere fancy, and a pinky ring with what looked like a skull on it.  He smelled like sandalwood and vanilla tobacco, and your mouth produced an overabundance of saliva that made you swallow and choke a bit.

Steve liked what he saw so much that he didn’t want to remove his sunglasses, so that he could continue to look you over without you seeing his eyes move.  But, eventually, he did, sliding them up on top of his head, clearing his throat.

“Harrington,” he said, leaning against the door frame, forgetting why he was about to leave the apartment in the first place. “That’s me, I’m Steve.”

You introduced yourself, and then lifted the bag up in the space between the two of you. “Would you like me to set this by the door, or—?”

“Oh, damn, yeah, of course,” he chuckled fondly to himself, as if remembering a private joke.  “I can—yeah, sure, here—I’ll take it.”

You passed it off and he opened it to look inside as if he didn’t know what he’d ordered.  

“Alright,” you backed up, offering a low wave.  “I guess I’ll be going,then? As long as everything looks okay.”

“Sure,” Steve said, uncertain, still staring into the bag.  You turned on your heel to head for the stairs. “But, wait—” he called after you.

You spun around to face him, rubbing your lips together, wondering if you were crazy, or if the vampire was trying to flirt with you.

Steve held the bag with one hand and let it fall to his side while his other hand shoved into his front pocket, smirking at you in a way that screamed trouble.  “Would you like to meet up later? After your shift? For a drink, or something?”

Or something.

This wasn’t a good idea, you told yourself, as you turned around to accept his invitation.  

“I’m free right now,” you told him.

—-------

Steve didn’t have a plan; he just knew he didn’t want you to go.

“Were you about to leave?” You asked, gesturing to his outfit as you accepted his invitation inside the apartment.  

“Nowhere…special,” Steve looked you up and down again, forgetting that his sunglasses weren’t covering his eyes.   He was about to go and meet up with his friend Eddie, but he’d shoot him a text real quick and let him know he got “caught up”.  Eddie had canceled on him at the last minute more times than he could count, so his conscience was clear.  

Steve had eclectic taste, and the first thing you noticed was the Depeche Mode poster on the wall, along with some original art, oil abstracts, and there was a retro sense to the place: a boombox from the 80’s, a panasonic tv/vcr combo on a stand in the corner and a 1960’s wicker rattan chair with a big, dark blue cushion.  He had a large collection of vinyl in vintage, wood apple crates stacked up the wall, and a yellow kitchen table set that looked like it was right out of the 1950’s.  

You turned to ask him a question, but he was right there on your heels, and your chests pressed into each other, your noses almost bumping, and that was when you took a closer look at his fangs.  They weren’t long, obnoxious fangs like in the movies, and could almost pass for normal, albeit extra sharp incisors, but for the way they extended down further than the rest of his perfect teeth.  

“Do you ever accidentally—” you motioned to your own tooth, tapping it.

“Bite my own lip? All the time,” he gave a snort.  “My tongue too, and it fucking sucks.”

He offered you a beverage and you were surprised to find out he had human food there.  

“I have several human friends. I cook for them sometimes too,” he assured you from the kitchen which was around the corner. He carried the grocery bag of blood in to pour some out for himself, and then you heard the top pop off a beer.  But then he peeked his head around the corner, raising his eyebrows at you. “Did you think all vampires were hermits that just hung out with each other in a cave somewhere? Like in The Lost Boys?”

You put your hands in your back pockets and went over to take a closer look at the bat with nail spikes through it that was mounted like a trophy above his stereo system.  He came out carrying a wine glass full of a deep claret liquid, and handed you the beer, gesturing to the futon with his elbow.

He’d only known you for a few minutes and he already wanted to kiss you.  He could see the heartbeat in your throat from where he sat, and he wanted to take a sip from your lifeforce and then kiss you with his bloody lips, smearing it down your chin.  He couldn’t smell any other man or partner on you, but he also couldn’t let you walk out and be with someone else; he was actively attaching to the scent of your blood, and if you stayed any longer, he’d have to do something about it.  

You took a few gulps of your beer, thinking that if you didn’t make you move, you’d lose your nerve.  A chance to be consensually bitten by a vampire did not come around as often as people would think.  Especially for the modern vamps of today who’d been following a set of rules for decades.  Most vampires had specific humans they “bonded” with, be it a familiar or a partner, or they ingested a specific type from the blood bank or blood substitute.  Vampires were very finicky creatures, and the blood had to taste good in order for them to want to ingest it.  The way it tasted had to do with a certain mix of hormones and chemistry, you really had no clue.

After a bit of small talk about where you came from, and how long Steve had been a vampire—he was turned in 1996 by an ex he didn’t want to talk about—you set your empty beer down on the rectangular wood coffee table and sat back.

“So,” you bobbed your head a few times.  “Here we are.”

“Yes,” he inclined his glass to you, taking the last sip of his Type O claret. “Cheers to us.”

And then, there was silence, but for the sound of people chatting out in the hall, the low hum of the Depeche Mode song It’s no Good, and your heartbeat in your ears.

But then, you just blurted it out, and Steve started to talk at the same time.

“How would you feel if I asked you to—”

“I have to confess that I—”

You licked your lips.  “You go first,” you said on a nervous exhale, fiddling with the arm of the futon.

“No, you—please,” Steve sank down and rested his head on the back of the cushion, his gaze lingering on you in a way that made your cheeks hot.  You couldn’t help but notice the bulge in his pants was abnormally large even though it wasn’t even erect.

This was crazy, what were you even doing in his apartment? Your friends would be screaming obscenities at  you if they knew, telling you to pull out your colloidal silver mace spray and run.  But yet, all of  your blood seemed to be tickling at the surface of your skin, wanting to escape.

You turned in your seat and Steve’s eyes followed your movements, watching how you bent your knee up and scooted towards him..

“Here’s the thing,” you cleared your throat, finding your words.  “I’ve never been bitten before, by, you know, a vampire, but I’d really love to know what it feels like.  I fantasize about it, sometimes.”

In an unexpected turn of events, Steve abruptly got to his feet, mumbling, “not another one,” as he put his back to you and rolled his head from side to side, walking away.

“Wait,” you stood up too. “What do you mean, ‘not another one’? Do delivery drivers normally show up here asking you to bite them?”

When he faced you, his eyes were full of weary disappointment.  “I’m not turning you, okay? I will never turn anyone as long as I exist,” and then he rounded the corner into the kitchen and you heard the wine glass drop into the sink.  

“Hold on,” you followed, coming up behind him as he bent forward to brace his hands on the countertop.  He appeared so suddenly distraught, your hand hovered at his lower back for a while, wondering if you should touch him, and then you finally did—feeling his cold skin through his shirt like winter marble.  

You made a few comforting circles with your palm, and he let you, secretly closing his eyes at the soothing nature of your touch.  

“Hey,” you whispered.  “I don’t want to be a vampire.  And even if I did, I would never want to put that on you, a complete stranger.”

This admission made him stand, and you watched the way the ends of his hair caught on the collar of his shirt, shoulder blades flexing under the material.

You rested your hip by the sink, eyeing his back muscles.  “I’m kind of embarrassed now, that I admitted that to you,” you laughed a little then, at yourself, at the situation, looking down at your nails.  Could you have fucked this up any harder? 

You barely had time to register that he had turned around and was coming toward you, it all happened in a human blink. But then he had your back pressed flush against the wall by the fridge, one hand cupped your throat while the other pinned your hip.  It knocked the air out of you, but it also turned you on, and he returned your stare with a flicker of uncertainty.  Silky brown eyes that seemed to go ink black as the pupils expanded.

He brought his cheek down, rubbing it against yours, inhaling the scent of your hair, his words a tight whisper at your ear.  “Why do you want me to hurt you?”

“I-I don’t want that,” you stammered, knees wobbling as he sniffed along the side of your face and down your neck; his skin was cold and it made  your nipples hard.  “I just want to know what it feels like to be…needed like that.”

Steve snapped his head up to look at you; brows clenched, cherry lips parted.  The urge to taste you, to feast on you, had him questioning almost a decade of sobriety from using his fangs to feed.  His teeth ached, his stomach growled.  The light in the kitchen was on, and aside from a lamp in the living room and the street lights from outside, the rest of the apartment was dark.

Steve nudged your nose with his; lips an inch or two away from yours.  “Maybe…just a taste.”

You lifted your chin to kiss his pouty lips, but he pulled back.  “We can’t do that, though.  We can’t kiss.”

You searched his eyes, confused.  

Steve released your throat, and the tension of the moment subsided.  “It’s too…intimate.  I can’t risk an attachment to a complete stranger.” You could tell he was using your words against you, and you wondered why that description bothered him so much.  You were both, indeed, strangers, and you didn't know how else to categorize him.

“I want it to be a good experience, though,” he hushed, taking your hand, guiding you back out to the living room. “It’s the least I can do.”

He told you to wait there while he got a towel from the closet; he didn’t want blood on his new futon.  If only you knew how many offers like this he’d turned down in his life; if only you knew how nervous he was to break this seal with you.

“Should I lay down or sit up?” You asked.  Your mind was having a hard time registering that this was actually happening.  

Steve came back and plopped down onto the squishy futon.  His shirt was off, and your eyes locked on the patch of chest hair over his milk white skin.  “It’s less messy this way,” he gestured to his bare chest, and then he raised an eyebrow, his face serious.  “Are you comfortable straddling my lap?”

“Facing you?” 

Steve dropped his shoulders, giving you a look, and then he patted the cushion on either side of him.

You were about to drop your knee down to do as he suggested.  

“Oh wait,” he stopped you, giving you an open, earnest expression.  “Do you want to take your shirt off?  It might get blood on it. It’s been a while since I’ve done this.”

You looked down at your shirt.  It was a vintage concert tee, and you didn’t want to risk it. “Um, yeah, okay,” you had a sports bra on underneath, so this was fine.  

Steve watched you remove your shirt with a hitch in his chest, but then looked down when you finished and tossed it over the chair.  

You climbed on top of him, bracing your hands on his shoulders.  “You’re so cold,” you observed.  “You make me want to get you a blanket.”

“You’re all the warmth I need,” he muttered, shifting as your core settled above his cock, his hands tentative at your hips. 

“Listen, it’s probably going to sting, or hurt, even,” he coached, watching the plump artery in your throat.  “But once I start drinking, your endorphins take over and it should feel…good, in a way.”

You nodded, pushing your shoulders back.

“Now, come forward,” he continued, pulling you close so that the two of you were skin on skin, his fingers spread out on your back.  “And tilt your head to the side, just like that.”

Steve’s mouth watered as he took in the sight of your neck so exposed to him, like an offering.  It reminded him of way back when he used to confuse the gift of blood as a form of love.  Back when he was naive and bursting with wet dreams about a home and a family and one love forever.

A few seconds passed and your chin rested on the cool muscles of his shoulder.  You could feel his breath on your skin, tingly like wintermint gum.  

“Should I count down?” He asked.

“No, I’m fine,” you returned with an edge of irritation. “Whenever you’re ready.”

You adjusted yourself in his lap and it made his cock throb, and now he was nervous that you could tell how aroused he was.  It’s been a while since he drank from someone he wasn’t in love with, and his cock assumed it was its turn to get involved too.

You felt his lips tremble on your flesh as he brushed over the spot. 

“Okay, here we go,” he mumbled. Steve’s stomach growled again as he made “O” with his mouth over your big, thumping artery, swiping his tongue a few times over your salty barrier.

But then his teeth broke the surface, making you choke and clutch his arm.

It did hurt, in the same way thorns from a rose bush hurt, and your adrenaline surged, preparing your body for fight or flight, but Steve’s arms were strong, and now they had you caged in a vice grip.

The sweet hesitancy of consent was gone now that he knew the honey nectar in your veins.

Now, his animal urges made him growl as he drank from you; whimpering, even, when he felt you ease into it, shifting to be closer to him.

There were only a few seconds of that sharp pain, but then as he sucked, you felt your pussy flutter and bloom—a reaction that you had not expected.  You closed your eyes, vibrating, leaning into each pull, turned on more and more by his wanton need for you. A trickle of blood trailed down along your breast and it made your skin raise with gooseflesh.  

Steve jerked his mouth away with a gasp after about a minute, breathless.  He looked at the dripping fang marks in your neck, and then, without thinking, he kissed you there. He released his double arm lock on you and held your upper arms, his forehead dropping to your shoulder.

“Fuck,” be breathed.  “That was so good.” 

“You can have…more,” you whispered, keeping your head tilted to the side.  

Steve swallowed hard: the temptation was real. “I can’t,” he managed.  “I’m afraid I’ll take too much.”

You wanted to cry out in disappointment, to beg for more.  But then, Steve picked up the towel and started wiping you off. He pricked his finger to heal the fang holes with his blood and you felt a sizzle as they closed up and vanished.

You couldn’t look at him right away, but when you finally did—you saw the trickles of your life force in the corners of his mouth and the strawberry wine tinted hue of his lips. His cinnamon brown eyes that had somehow turned hazel  Your need was too great, and before you could stop yourself, you were leaning forward to flick your tongue out to taste the evidence of his feast.

Steve turned his head and that was when you remembered the rule: no kissing.  He was the Julia Roberts Pretty Woman version of vampires.  

But a  twitch of his cock against your inner thigh from inside his jeans betrayed him. 

“Oh, fuck it,” he hissed, acquiescing to his own desires, holding the back of your head to find your mouth.  He kissed you deep, without any hesitation.  It was innocent and urgent, like a man who had been starving in many different ways for a long time.

The taste of your blood in his mouth had your eyes rolling back in your head.  There was something about the closeness of it; the way he received nourishment from you.  You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him back, not paying any attention to the way your hips were grinding into him.

“Wait,” there was a smacking noise as Steve pulled his mouth away. He ran the back of his fingers down your cheek.  “Do you want this? Do you want…me?”

Your lips throbbed and felt bruised, and you nodded, unable to form words.

Steve would regret this the next day, he knew he would.  He wasn’t one of those people who could do casual intimacy like Eddie and Argyle.  He wondered if he was hypnotized by your blood, wondered if maybe he’d see clearer in the morning.  But right then, he didn’t care.

You crossed your arms over yourself and pulled your sports bra off, watching Steve’s breath catch at the sight of your nipples. He took one in his mouth, swirling his tongue, moaning as he did so, and you flexed your hips against him. His sucking popped off as your mouth went to his neck; you didn’t kiss him, you just planted your lips there and said:

“I love knowing my blood is inside of you.”

And for some reason—that was it for Steve.  

He gasped, clamping his hands onto your thighs, locking you in place. “Wait…fuck…oh shit—”

You felt him tremble and arch his pelvis up, his hips stuttered, and then his head dropped to your arm with a strangled cry.  

“Hold on…did you just?”

“I’m afraid so,” Steve admitted with a tight, aggravated sigh.  “Excuse me while I—”

He motioned for you to move out of his lap, but you stayed there, lowering your head to find his eyes.  “Can I clean you up?”

Steve shifted, feeling embarrassed and a little uncomfortable, about to decline your offer, but then you were sliding down between his legs, pushing them wider with your shoulders.  Your attention went to unbuckling his belt and zipper, but then your eyes flicked up to meet him, hovering there.

“What are you doing?” He asked softly, lifting his hips when you needed to scoot his jeans and red boxers down.  You saw the wet spot where his tip had exploded and the dark hair around the base of his cock.  You grabbed onto his length to bring it out of hiding and Steve shivered.

“You don’t have to—” but your lips were already on the fat, sticky tip, licking down the vein and the excess that dribbled down his shaft.  His cum didn’t really have a taste—it reminded you of something with a clear flavor, like glycerine.  He was semi-hard now; caught between being done and getting excited again.  He threw his head back onto the couch, exposing his throat to the ceiling, Adam’s apple jerking as he swallowed back a whimper.

His hips bucked up when you took the tip to the back of your throat, and Steve’s fingers dug into the couch, wondering if he should touch you.  “Do you like the way I taste?” He asked in a hush.

You nodded, meeting his gaze again, kissing the head of his cock.  “I want more.”

Steve leaned down to grab your face with both hands and coaxed you back up into his lap for another depraved kiss; moaning into each dive of your tongue.

“It’s my turn,” he said with a crooked grin, rubbing his nose on yours, and then he flipped you over with surprising strength.  You pushed your jeans down as he pulled them, yanking the denim all the way off your feet.  They landed inside out in a crumpled pile nearby.   He kissed down your breasts, your stomach, flicking his devilish tongue along the soft curve of your hip.  

Your legs stretched out to meet the width of his strong shoulders, cursing when his tongue licked a stripe up and down your slit a few times. When his mouth pulled away, there was a string of saliva connecting you to his chin, and he found your eyes before he moved to taste you again.

He lifted your thighs up off the couch—god, he was so strong—and licked down even further, until his tongue fluttered at your tight muscle back there, making both holes clench.  Your torso was almost bent in half when he looked up at you over your pussy.  “Do you like that?”

“Don’t stop Steve, please,” you gushed.

He took that as a yes, smiling to himself, continuing to work you over in that spot.

He lowered you and moved up to suck your clit and sank two fingers in a little too fast, making you tighten up for a moment.  “Shit, your fingers are so big.”

He made a guttural growl, staring at the way his fingers stretched you, and it sounded so unlike the noises he made thus far, it made your eyes snap open.

“More,” you gasped, taking his head in your hands.  Your fingers threaded through his hair that was a bit crunchy from styling product.

He slipped a third finger in and your cunt pulsed around him, making his cock get stiff and leaky again. “Fuck, you’re going to take my cock so good.”

The throb of the artery in your inner thigh caught his attention and so—that was all he could think about.

His fingers went in to the last knuckle, and twisted them a few times.

Your jaw went slack with a moan.  You watched his mouth lift off an inch so that he could stare at the spot just below the curve of your hip.  You could almost hear his thoughts, they were so loud, and the thought of him feeding on you again made  your cunt tighten like a fist.  

“Fuck, Steve, please do it,” you whined, squirming.  “Take more of my blood.”

Steve felt like a man out of control. Like the vehicle had already flown off the cliff, but he was still trying to work the break and steer.  There was no hope for him now—he might as well release his grip on the wheel.

His fingers curled up inside you as his fangs nipped at your tender flesh, toying with you.  When his his sharp teeth finally sank in, he didn’t give a shit about staining the couch or his clothes—he didn’t care if you could tell how much he fucking loved this.

When his mouth locked onto you, your pussy clenched around his fingers, and you were whimpering, clutching the back of his head, encouraging him, “moremoremore.” 

Steve had to push himself off of you with all of his strength, sending the couch sliding back a few inches with you on it, knocking over a table and a lamp that went crashing to the ground.  Your flesh was still leaking as he stumbled back, breathing quick and heavy, mouth and chin wet from his meal. His jeans were still down his hips a bit and his cock curved angry and sticky against his belly.

“Cover it,” he braced his hands behind him on the carpet, gesturing to your inner thigh, but you weren’t quick enough.  “Cover it now!” He barked, wincing, baring his teeth.  

You reached over for the towel and did as he asked, wrapping it around your thigh, securing it with your hand, watching whatever struggle he seemed to be having with himself.  It looked almost as if Steve was…changing? The hair on his chest and arms seemed to grow thicker right before your eyes and his jaw muscles strained as if making room for more teeth.

Once he caught his breath, his eyes locked on your cunt—so open and ready for him—and another animal growl escaped his chest.  You watched his cock twitch a few times, a sticky strand of precum connecting to his stomach.

No words were needed as he grabbed you by the crook of your knees and yanked you off the couch.  You yelped only because his movements were so fast and your lower back skidded on the rug, but you were equally opening yourself up wider for him, spreading your knees out.  

He knelt before you, chest hairier than ever, and his eyes flicked red for a moment.  He stretched his thick cock down along your slick and with one thrust, buried himself to the hilt, making you both throw your heads back with a cry.  

“Fuck,” you wanted him deeper, you wanted all of it.  Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes from the size.  He put one hand at your shoulder and one at the crease of your thigh and began to pound you onto his cock as if you were a toy.  Your breasts bounced and you kept eye contact with him as your jaw went slack, feeling a mounting orgasm already teasing in your core.

Steve’s hands no longer resembled the hands of a man; they were completely covered in hair now with curved claws. Honey brown fur covered his flesh entirely, and his nose was more of a snout as his eyes bore into you, burning an orange red.  His mouth was wider, teeth bigger and sharper as he revealed them to you in a sneer; his tongue lolling out thick and sharp.

You were not afraid though, and he could see it in the way you regarded him, as if the change had not taken place at all.   Your curiosity was piqued, but you were not disgusted, nor did you look away.

The curse, it was real.  He had not dared to tempt it for so long, thought maybe he had outrun it, but now he was mating you and he didn’t know how to stop.

You didn’t want him to stop. You wondered if maybe this was what happened when some vampires had sex—you’d never tried it before.

His strong, animal hips slammed against you; muscular, hairy legs splitting his jeans open so the seams ripped to accommodate his size.

“Steve, I’m gonna cum,” you gasped, brushing your fingers over your clit.

Monster Steve’s movements sped up and got erratic as you screamed his name again and the fire in your belly swelled to your entire body, exploding like firecrackers behind your eyes.  

Steve barked and locked you up against him, balls deep, as his cock pumped everything he had inside of you; body tensing, muscles straining.   

You were both panting when your eyes found each other again.  He searched your face with his feral eyes as his cock jumped a few times inside of you.  You wondered if he had lost the ability to speak since he hadn’t said a word since the transformation. 

He unhooked his hand from your shoulder and ran a claw down your face, gently, parting your lips with it, and then drawing down your throat.

There was a knock at the door, and somewhere in the deeply muffled civilized part of Steve’s brain he thought: “Shit, I forgot to text Eddie.”

You looked around, wondering what to do, wanting to cover yourself up, and Steve pulled out of you, savoring one last look at his cum leaking out before he bolted to the fire escape window on all fours and then crouched there.  

“Steve?” Another man’s voice came from the other side of the door.  “Yo Steve man, what gives? I waited at the bar for like two hours.”  He knocked on the door again, and then tried the knob.  “I’m going to use my spare key if you don’t answer, man.  It’s not like you not to text.”

Monster Steve growled low, staring across the room at the door, snarling like a dog.  

Getting the hint that maybe Steve didn’t want anyone to see him like that, you jumped up to find your clothes when you heard the key in the door.  You had your shirt on and were struggling to button your jeans when the door opened.  

You rushed over to greet whoever it was and found yourself face to face with another vampire, but this one had long, dark messy hair, and bangs that were too long, and a leather jacket over his Alice in Chains tee shirt.  

“Hey,” he paused, offering a confused smile to expose his fangs.  “I’m Eddie.  Is Steve here? We were supposed to meet me but he—-”

That was when Eddie caught sight of the huge, hairy monster dropping from Steve’s fire escape and into the street.

“Shit!” Eddie cursed, pushing passed you, yelling for Steve.  

You both made it to the window in time to see monster Steve bounce over the hoods of several cars like something out of a DC comic, and then bolt down an alleyway on all fours before climbing up the next building.  

Eddie turned to you, the only human in the vicinity, and cursed.  “You let him drink your blood, didn’t you?”

“Well I—” you stammered, trying to catch sight of Steve from the window again, but he was long gone.  “I-I didn’t know that vampires couldn’t—”

“Most can,” Eddie sucked in his bottom lip and put his hands on his hips, looking around.  “But not Steve.  He was already a werewolf when he was bitten and turned into a vampire, and if hybrids drink blood directly from a human, they turn into a beast, like what you saw.”  Eddie glanced down at how your jeans were unzipped, and then he quickly looked out the window again.  “Especially if there is some type of sexual act involved.”

Eddie paced back and forth in a line for a minute, wondering what he should do—-who he should call. 

You swallowed so hard there was a click in the back of your throat.  “How long will he…be like that?”

Eddie scratched his forehead, parting his bangs.  “It’s really hard to say.  Could be hours, could be weeks.  But the problem is—” Eddie trailed off, thinking about the last time this happened.  “----he’s out there all alone and there’s no way to find him or catch him.  He’s stronger than any vampire or a werewolf now.”

You told Eddie a little bit about who you were as you collected your things and went out in the hall with him so he could lock the apartment back up.  You told him that you didn’t mind waiting there, until Steve came back.  Maybe he just went for a run to stretch his monster legs?”

“That’s way too dangerous,” Eddie promised.  “Once Steve is back to Steve again, he’ll want to know I kept you away from him, that I kept you from danger,” he walked you out of the complex and down to your car.  “The smartest thing you can do right now, sweetheart, is go home and wait for things to go back to normal.  I’m sure he’ll call you when he returns to himself.”

You thanked him and shook his hand, even though you knew Steve didn’t have your number.

You had a plan you thought might work even better.

Once you got back to your place, you showered, cleaned up the sticky trail of Steve’s cum down your inner thigh, and then wrapped a towel around you and went to the kitchen to find a sharp knife.

You went out to your modest balcony on the 6th floor of your building, and blinked against the breeze as a hand-shaped cloud circled the moon.  The stars were bright and the air smelled of honeysuckle, and you held the blade of the knife tight before yanking it through your grip.

It slit the flesh of your palm like butter, and you bit your lip against the pain.  You squeezed your fist in the air—a summoning on the wind—and watched the dark red flow trickle down your forearm.

You let it drip onto the railing, all along the cement ledge, and then left the sliding door open and made a trail of droplets on the floor to your bedroom.

And then, you waited.  

[thedarkcircuswritings]

Okay so...

Hear me out

Bill made a book about himself and got that said book to someone and unfortunately when he was transferred to a new Counselor aka Reader he slowly started having feelings for reader who is a human female who constantly calls him Dorito just for the fun of it

And unfortunately he forgotten all about the book he made and remembered it too late when that said person went and killed Reader to use there blood to give Bill back his powers

-🥀Angst Anon

Even with a taste of freedom now, this was never part of the plan. How could his new worshippers be so happy to kill you in order to free him from Theraprism? Entering the continuum of space, now he has none by his side, his sides now stained red as they were with your blood. Not even their screams of regret and guilt could sway him. It was already too late. You were already too gone.

[crystalandparrot]

The Hardest Trial

A Gravity Falls Reader Insert

Part 1: The Frilly Guy Upstairs

Bill is OOC!! He will be growing as a character that he probably wouldn't otherwise and if you have a problem with it, don't read. It's not a romantic story, it's just what I thought would happen if he was FORCED into this situation. This is an insert, I was gonna make it into an OC, but I don't know if people want that. If you do, I'll switch it up. Enjoy :)

"Look, from one God to another, who cares I tried to kill those brothers? They're all ants, it's all a game. Let's press restart and try again! I'm too cool and fun to die, just give this angle one more Tri."

With a sigh, the AXOLOTL spoke, "You cannot regrow through denial. You'll have to face my hardest trial. See my program to the end then you may yet live again."

Bill laughed, pain erupting through his body as he giggled. "What? Am I fighting demons? Eating ghosts?"

"You're getting what you need the most. One way to absolve your crimes. To change your form will take some time." The AXOLOTL blinked slowly.

Bill felt a white, tingly feeling start at his feet and crawl up. Bill couldn't believe his luck! Man this salamander was an idiot! All he had to do was fake a tear or too and he was home free! Whatever kind of challenge it was Bill could handle it! He was UNDEFEATED in combat, there's no way he wouldn't win. With a joyful expression, Bill shook the AX's hand. It was a deal!

X ilkb zefia ibcq tfqelrq zxob

Obsbxiba ql yb x clodlqqbk ebfo

Vlr jrpq molqbzq rkqfi peb'p lc xdb

Lkiv qebk zxk vlr jxhb qeb buzexkdb

For the first time in his existence, Bill was awoken peacefully with quiet music. He sluggishly blinked his eye opened—popping it open when he felt a squeeze around his body. Frantically, Bill looked around, pupil narrowing on a chubby arm hugging him to a small, plushy body—a baby.

"WHAT?!" Bill shouted suddenly, ripping himself from the chubby arms of the sleeping infant. As suspected, the baby began to cry from the unpleasant disturbance. Its arms reached out, looking for its angular cuddle buddy in desperation. Fat tears rolled down the round, rosy cheeks while wails of sadness left the lips of the baby in front of Bill.

Without warning, the door burst open and in ran two humans, both frantic and sweaty. Bill recognized one of these humans, the taller woman who was holding a hand to her chest to calm her racing heart. He supposed the other female was her wife or spouse of some sort, a shorter female who's eyes glanced around for any possible threat to the infant's physical form, completely on edge with a golf club in hand.

"Peri, it's fine, the baby probably just had a nightmare." The taller female walked to the crib, breath still slightly uneven.

"Well, well, well, nice to finally meet you face to face Raindrop! The name's Bill—"

"Look, she's fine." The taller female held up the baby gently.

Bill blinked at the woman and briefly flushed red, "Look, lady, I don't take kindly to being ignored—"

"Yeah, I guess." The shorter female (Peri, if Bill recalled correctly) dropped the club and approached the two humans.

"Mindscape. It's still the Mindscape..." Bill said flatly. He closed his eye and rubbed the eyelid, much like how Ford used to rub the bridge of his nose when his glasses started to hurt. "Alright, I can work with Mindscape. I just have to enter a mind of an innocent, impressionable being and influence them to forever serve their one lord and master for all eternity." Bill snapped his fingers, "Piece of cake."

Hearing a giggle, Bill's pupil shot over to the small human that was being gently placed in the crib. He floated over to the crib, joining the parents gazing upon the chubby flesh bag. Once Bill peered over the railing, the baby's eyes shot to him and a large, boneless smile stretched on the baby's fat cheeks. With "grabby" hands to Bill, the baby began forming the letter B and mimicking the sound of said letter.

"Aww, you want your Baba?" The tall woman asked, giving the baby a yellow pacifier. The baby took it gratefully and dropped its arms, but its eyes still stared intensely at Bill.

"Okay, get some sleep, sunspot." The smaller woman kissed the infant on the cheek and began walking out of the room with her partner. "Have you talked to your mom recently?"

"Last week. I have to call her again today, maybe invite her over."

"That'd be nice, I miss Shermie."

Bill was more preoccupied with this infant than the conversation, wondering why this thing of ALL beings in the universe could see him while he lacked a physical form. Soon enough the round doe eyes of the infant closed, its constant sucking on the pacifier lulling it to sleep with comforting familiarity. Only once Bill could hear even breathing from the baby that he could give himself the will to float away.

There had to be something that explained why he was there...but as Bill searched room by room, phasing through walls and drawers for some semblance of a clue, his hope began to die down. Maybe this was the AX's trial, figuring out why he's here. This wasn't Gravity Falls (not that Bill minded, he'd prefer not to be encased by the natural weirdness laws...again), which meant he was no where near his old form, so why?

Bill peeked into the living room, seeing the two women cuddling on the pastel yellow couch, not his favorite shade, but they had nice taste. They were looking into a large family album. They looked to be halfway through it, a picture of Sixer's college gradutation, the nerd was standing there with his PhD(s) in hand and a large stupid smile on his cheeks. Next were two pictures, one of the T.V with Stanley presenting the "Rip-off", the next was an arm, red and splotchy, with the words underneath, 'It gave me rashes'.

"You ever think about calling?" Peri asked, glancing up at her spouse from the spot on her shoulder.

"Sometimes, but I haven't spoken to anyone from that side of my family since my Uncle Stanley died." The taller spouse turned the page. It was a baby picture with the words, "Our little Sunspot : August 30th, 2004"...that was the baby that was currently sleeping in the crib...but that could only mean...

Bill quickly glanced around the room and flew towards the kitchen when he found it. He looked around and finally spotted a classic human time tracker-a calendar. The date most recently crossed off was February 20th, 2005. So either Bill was dealing with some people who really needed to update their decor...

Or Bill went back in time.

[queers-gambit]

When It Rains, It Pours

prompt: ( requested ) after a long hike, you and Joel find a rundown motel, and after finding the cleanest room, there's only one bed.

pairing: Joel Miller x female!reader

fandom masterlist: HBO's The Last of Us

word count: 4.4k+

note to requester: i know i said i'd get slutty but it wasn't going the way i wanted it - so, we've come to this. i'm so sorry 😭

warnings: cursing, we all pretend like we're not all dirty and disgusting from the apocalypse, mild mild mild smut but still NSFW [female-receiving fingering]. OC Joel who has a thing for pet names. author doesn't know what this is and promises she normally writes better.

The night was pitch ebony, swirling thick darkness making it hard to see in the absence of the silvery moon. There had been a wicked storm that brewed quickly overnight, and being as you and Joel were making a supply run into an area you don't often venture, it was easy to lose yourselves in the wilderness. If it wasn't the night that disrupted sight, it was the sideways rain that pelted over you two; and no matter a functioning compass or not, it was still hard to fucking see, let alone gage where you were.

"Joel!" You snapped, "This is fucking ridiculous. We're either going to wonder into a fucking trap or catch pneumonia. In case you're not paying attention, we're not exactly strapped with penicillin right now!"

He sighed, the two of you huddling under a tree. "We're almost there," he told you gruffly after hours of silent hiking.

"Yeah? How's it you know that? The rain is washing out the trails, Joel, we're kinda stuck out here with no real indication of where we are or where the fuck we're going!"

"No, we keep heading West - "

"How can you even determine which way is which!?" You snapped. "Our flashlights went out an hour ago, we should've made camp to wait out the storm."

"So the rain water could wash us out? Or so Infected could accidentally stumble upon us? Oh, wait, I know! So the other humans could come and rob us blind before leave us for dead, right?"

You offered a mocking look, "Then what do we do now, genius?"

Joel sighed heavily through his nose, shaking his curls out and spraying water all around. He tried to look through the trees but it was difficult to see three feet in front of yourself. "We should keep moving," he decided.

"I agree but our dilemma is, which way?"

"Uh," he tried to wipe the compass clean but in reality, he simply couldn't see from lack of light. "Shit."

"Yeah! Shit!"

"Don't get snippy with me - "

"I told you at least three miles back that this wasn't doable nor smart," you glared. "We should've been better prepared. So, where to now?"

"Well, I mean - "

"Fuck's sake, Joel, are we lost now?"

He paused, "Not exactly lost..."

"Just unsure, right? A little misplaced? Confused, even?"

"Just - c'mon." You glared at the back of his head but pushed off the tree trunk to follow him. "Bill said there's an old motel 'round these parts. With luck, we can crash there."

"If we're even in those parts," you growled.

"Well, keep an eye out."

"Have I slapped you today?"

Joel hummed, "Nope."

"There's still time," you huffed, yelping slightly when your foot stepped into a thick mud hole - tripping you into the flooding mud. "Ah, fuck! Ow! Hey, Joel?"

"What happened?"

"I'm stuck," You grit, trying to yank your leg free. "Fuck's sake, it's really in there. Joel, c'mon, help me out. What the fuck is this new Earth made of? Bastard ain't budgin'!"

Joel had to pause and double back to simply kneel, soaking his knee with mud, and after three good yanks, there were two pops: a loud one from freeing your foot (with your shoe still on) and a small one from within your ankle.

"Shit," Joel panted, wobbling for balance with a small pant. "You all right?"

"My fuckin' ankle," you breathed. "God, I twisted it real good, 's throbbing and swelling already."

"Think you're good to walk?"

"Gonna have to be," you used his offered hands to help you to your feet as you refused to be left behind as dead weight. In this day-and-age, you understood that injury would often get you left behind because nobody had the strength or ability to support the weak and injured. You tried a few slow, tentative steps but they were decently painful, so, Joel sighed and let your one arm sling around his neck to aid you as a crutch. "This is not ideal."

"No shit," he breathed, trying to keep hold on you, his gun, and keep his head on a swivel.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey, what's that?"

"What's what, where?"

"Just pause, Joel, hang on, hang on," you snipped, tugging his shoulders You took a full minute to retrain your gaze, but then, you saw the outline of a building. "There," you pointed through the trees. "Do you see that?"

Joel squinted for a long moment, then nodded, "Could be the motel."

"Oh, thank you, God," you sighed, the pair of you moving for the motel as the storm drowned out any grunts of exertion. Bolts of lightning flashed to only confirm the building's appearance, and thunder seemed to reach into your bones. When closer, the building came in clearer view - shadowed, rundown, overgrown with vegetation... But with a few opened room doors.

"Here," Joel panted, leaning you on a thick tree trunk along the tree line. "I'll check it out - "

"Like hell you're going alone," you shook your head, pulling your hand gun out. "But it's also cold as shit and I'm drenched, I'm more than willing to help search the area if it means I lay down. C'mon, I can go slow on the ground floor."

Joel paused for a moment, then nodding slowly, "I'll check out the top. Shoot first, ask questions later," he reminded with a meaningful stare - as if he wanted to say more but couldn't. "And fucking run if you have to."

You offered a tired look, "Still givin' me that advice, all this time later?"

"Someone has to, you're chaotic and reckless."

"It's gotten me this far!"

"With bullet wounds."

"Flesh wounds," you instantly corrected, limping across the car park. "C'mon," you muttered, the two of you spacing out and slowly checking out the motel. Without your flashlights, it was ten times as difficult, but you had a little bit of a system.

Any door that opened, you tossed something into the room to rattle any Infected from rest. You'd wait at the open door, hoping the bolts of lightning were enough light to guide you. Some rooms were bolted shut, some literally fell off its hinges. Some were ransacked, some looked torched, others seemed... Lived in.

"Joel!"

"What?" He asked, appearing behind you so suddenly you jumped in fright. The man should often wear a bell, he was too sneaky for his own good.

"Fuck you," you sighed, shaking your head, "you know I'm jumpy."

"What is it? Why'd you call?"

"What's this look like to you?" She asked, pointing into the room as she stepped back. He offered a confused look before glancing in, then doing a double take.

"Gun up," he nodded, slowly taking two calculated steps inside to reach for the oil lamp he saw through the flashes of lightning. He got it lit using the leftover lighter, amazed by the way the lamp provided the room with warm light and also how nothing moved in the room.

It was almost suspicious after years of 'worst case scenarios' coming true. I mean... Look where you were! In the Wastelands of stupid-fucking Zombie World. Doesn't really get more 'worst case' than this!

Slowly, Joel checked out the closet and bathroom as you looked under the bed - wait, wait, wait, wait, hold on a second.

Pause.

Freeze frame.

Back up.

Record scratch.

One bed? Just one?

And as if that wasn't bad enough, it seemed to be unusually small. There was no way this bed belonged to this room, making you wonder from where the old inhabitants came from... Local, perhaps, if they transported a fucking mattress. Looking around, you realized the bed wasn't in the best condition, but there were blankets and thin pillows left behind.

Trying not to worry about the single bed, you poked around the materials in the room, Joel exiting the bathroom.

"We're alone," he nodded, looking skeptical.

"What do you think happened?"

He toed a few empty old cans, sighing, "Probably went out to find food. Not much other reason to leave." He picked up a child's stuffed animal, nodding, "Guess they just didn't make it back."

"All right, well," you shrugged, setting your gun down to lock the bolt on the door, "help me out here."

Joel stepped up and helped you move furniture in front of the door for added protection; then drawing the tattered curtains over the lone window to try and provide comfort in solidarity.

"All right," Joel sighed, staring at the bed like you had. "Hm, all right. Well... Let me get a blanket or two and I'll crash in the tub - "

"Like hell you are," you scoffed, shivering from the freezing rain water. "I'm not listening to you bitch and gripe and moan about your back all the way to Bill and Franks - and then all the way back to Boston."

"So, what? You think we're both gonna fit in that bed?"

You eyed it for a moment, but the cold was settling into your core. "You afraid to touch me or something?" You asked sarcastically. "Oh, right, I forgot, God forbid you get close to someone!"

Joel sighed your name in reprimand.

"What's the issue?" You whined, hands shoved under your arms. "I'm freezing, man, can we make a decision so I can at least have the decency to pass away in my sleep? Fuck's sake."

Joel glared, "That's not funny."

"What's your issue!?"

"It's not so much as us sharing the bed as it is we'd have to strip and share the bed," he tried to explain.

"You're almost 60-God-damn-years-old, but you're nervous about seein' me without clothes on? Are we in 6th grade again? Did we go back in time and I missed it!?"

"You've made it clear since day one you didn't want nothin' to do with me - "

"What the fuck are you on about?" You snapped. "Joel, honestly? You're the most important person in my life. I care about Tommy, I care for Tess, sure, but I wouldn't be gutted losing them. I would be if I ever lost you. So, shut the fuck up about how I didn't want nothin' to do with you, we share a fuckin' apartment - "

"That's because of space issues," Joel sighed.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," you took a long breath. "Joel?"

He rolled his neck out, "What?"

"I care about you," you simply said. "And I'd much rather lay in that bed awkwardly without clothes on, sharing body heat, than stand here another moment. We're both drenched, my ankle is throbbing, and you know what? I'm tired. I'm really fucking tired and that rain isn't letting up."

He sighed, nodding, "We might have to keep shelter for a day."

"So long as I can get warm, that's fucking fine," you shrugged. "Now, are you good? Is it okay to try to rest?"

Joel sighed, glancing at the bed and feeling his throat tighten. The bed was smaller than he hoped, and in honesty, you two would be lucky laying on your sides, pressed against one another, and not fall off. "Fine," he agreed, seeing how you were now trembling without control. "Fuck, I'm sorry, look at you, you're shakin'," he sighed, approaching you with rushed steps.

"Just cold, Joel," you complained, stiffly letting your pack fall off.

"No, you're fuckin' frozen," he sighed. "C'mon, get this jacket off."

"I-I'm tryin'."

"Want help?"

"Please, I'm just fuckin' tired," you groaned, letting your forehead fall to his shoulder as he worked to shed your outer jacket.

"Work with me, sweetheart, lift your arms, there you go, that's it, good girl," he whispered, trying to help you peel more layers off. "You look like hell," he frowned, the flickering oil lamp providing minimal visuals from the shadowing, but in a warm, honied light.

"Feel like hell, too," you looked down your leg, sighing at the mud caked up them. "You look at peachy as ever," you tried to tease, but it came out in a shudder from a shocking wave of cold.

"Sit," Joel directed, turning you to lean on the bed's edge. He knelt to take your boots off - taking care of your injured ankle - and left your shoes at the bottom of the bed. He peeled your socks off, sighing as your toes were turning a slight shade of blue. "All right, quickly now. Lift your hips, let me get your pants off."

"Tryna get me naked, huh?" You grunted, flopping backwards on the bed.

"Keep talkin'," he grunted, unhooking the button on your jeans to start peeling them down. It turned into more of a shucking, and he tried not to notice how your panties tugged down, too.

"This is stupid."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm. Bill gave us fried information, Joel, ain't shit out here."

"He was right about the motel, though. Maybe we get a fresh start when the storm clears."

"Maybe we just say fuck it and go live with Bill and Frank."

Joel chuckled, "Yeah? That's what we should do?"

"Yeah, fuck people."

"All right, now," he sighed, successfully getting your pants to your thighs without your panties following. "So, fuck people, we go live like hermits?"

"Yep, better than under FEDRA's heel."

"They pay good money for pills," he reminded, sighing deeply. "All right, little one - "

"I hate that nickname."

Joel sighed, seeing your eyes closed but brows crinkled. "Peach?"

"Yeah, that's the one I like," you hummed with a soft smile.

Joel allowed himself a solemn chuckle, "All right, peach, let's get you under the covers."

"Poor excuse for 'em," you grunted, rolling over a bit to shuffle under the blankets. "They're scratchy."

"They're wool," Joel noted, petting the blanket. "They'll warm you up."

"Can't feel my toes."

"Let's hope your lips go numb soon."

"Fuck off, I blame you for this."

"You blame me for the storm?"

"Yes," you grumbled, shifting under the blankets to take your last layer off - your tank top - and tossing it at Joel. Your bra followed. "Lay those out for me, will you?"

"Mhm," he grunted, doing as you bid, but also laying out your other clothes. Your eyes didn't open out of pure exhaustion, and after a few minutes, Joel's weight was dipping the mattress. "Feelin' all right, peach?"

"Mhm."

The oil lamp went out, and Joel shifted in bed. "Fuck's sake," he muttered, trying to adjust, but every movement jolted your body. The mattress was worn and old, sinking under your weight but still loose enough to jostle you around. "Sorry, sorry."

"It's all right, but just settle down, Joel, please," you sighed, eyes cracked as he still twitched around. "Oh, my God, please, just - spoon me or something. Just whatever gets you to lay still."

"It's just too small a space."

"Then get closer."

Joel sighed and shuffled once more, but then, his chest was pressed right up to your back and soon, you were being cocooned in his warmth. Another readjustment, and his legs were forming around yours. "All right?" He checked again.

"Mhm."

He sighed, "Can I lay my arm down?"

"Yeah," and now, your eyes were wide open, but in the pitched darkness of the room, Joel couldn't tell. His arm, thick with undefined muscle due to natural age-deterioration, laid over your hip and waist - trying to find a comfortable angle. "You're warm. Feels nice," you mumbled.

"I'm... Sorry?"

"No, no, it's good," you assured, trying to throw him a bone and took hold of his arm to pull him the last inch closer. You cradled his arm to your chest, and Joel sighed almost in relief. He soon started to relax - but you couldn't help but notice he still felt tense.

"You're shaking."

"I'm cold, shut up and go to sleep," you snipped, but your lips stretched in a smirk. His nose slowly traced the skin of your neck to rest just by your ear, pausing, and then tightening his arm to let himself rest in the crook of your neck. His breath was warm over your skin, and oh, fuck, did it feel good. In fact, you even hummed, mumbling, "Warm."

"You sound drunk."

"You fucking wish."

Joel sighed, his other arm easily sliding under the skimpy, thin, decaying pillows you used. For a singular, secular moment: everything was normal. There were no Infected. There was no end of the world. There was just you and Joel, maybe on a camping vacation and this was your night in a motel before hiking into the wilderness. He was warm, he was alive, he was breathing against your back and neck that you couldn't help but give a brief moment of thanks for the gentle reminder you two were okay for the present.

You were alive, and that was a huge relief.

Things seemed to quiet for a moment, until Mother Nature made her cruel reminder that She was the only force on Earth to be reckoned with by cracking a large boom of thunder. One so loud, it rattled the window. One so loud, it created small tremors in the pooling-waters. One so loud, soaking-wet leafs dropped from branches. One so loud, it made you jump and recoil back into Joel.

"You're okay," he eased in your ear, cracks of lightning flashing behind the thin, moth-eaten curtains. "Scared of thunder or somethin'?"

"No."

"Then why's your heart racing?"

It was only then you became acutely aware that when you jumped, you had subconsciously pulled Joel's arm in and his hand was nearly pressed over your entire breast. Just a hair's adjustment and he'd have hold of your nipple; the feeling exhilarating but also somehow forbidden. "Oh," you flinched in embarrassment, "sorry, I just... I'm not the biggest fan of thunder when it cracks like that."

"You're breathing funny."

"All right, this isn't gonna work if you're just gonna keep pointing out shit. I can do it to you, too, you know."

"But I'm not - "

"You're hard," you pointed out smugly, Joel going silent.

But then, you didn't expect him to gruffly reply, "Can you blame me?" Your breathing stuttered when his hand freely moved up to palm your breast tightly; kneading as if holding a fresh loaf of French bread. "Got the prettiest thing pressed against me, bare fuckin' naked, it'd be impossible not to be hard," he all but growled in your ear, you trying to clear your head as his actions were mesmerizing you. "Don't even know what you do to me, doll, do you?"

"No," you squeaked, gulping to clear your throat. "Gonna tell me?"

He chuckled, "Remember that real bad fight between Tess and I? Few years back? When she stormed out and slammed the door so loud, it knocked over those books?"

"Yeah?" You panted, slowly pushing your hips back to let your bottom grind into his bulge. You wore only your panties, feeling Joel hot and heavy against the curve of your ass through his thin and wearing-out boxers. He usually only liked wearing them for hikes for chaffing, so, most days in the QZ, he forwent boxers.

"It was cause of you," he whispered, both hands sure to leave bruises behind as he let his hips meet yours.

"I didn't - "

"No, doll, you ain't do nothin'," he cut you off, grunting slightly as he dry humped into you. "But I fucked up. I was so stuck in my head, it was durin' that heat wave. You wore that fuckin' grey tanktop and I was done for, girl. Hear me? Fuckin' done." You shuddered against him. "Felt like a God damn teen again, not sure what to do when he saw a woman's skin."

"What's you do?" You wondered.

"Might've said your name," he admitted, the hand not palming your breast snaking under your form to wiggle between your thighs. "Women don't like you bein' balls-deep in them, sayin' another woman's name."

"No, we certainly don't," you mused, reaching back for his neck.

Joel took this as invitation and rutted harder into you, letting your breast go to guide your leg back over his hip. Then, it darted back to grope the warm flesh. He grunted in your ear, "You were in my head, darlin'. Always have been, but it was real bad back then."

You remembered, "Because I was seein' that guy? Oliver?"

"Think so," he panted.

"Jealous?"

"Terribly," Joel growled, toying with your wet (from rain) panties for a moment before easing his hand into the front of your panties. "Jesus fuckin' Christ, girl," he noted in appreciation.

"It's from the rain."

"Yeah? That so?"

"Uh-huh."

"Even down here?" He smirked, middle finger ghosting over your slit to make you twitch with the smallest of gasps. Long forgotten were your freezing cold state, finding Joel similar to a personal furnace.

Okay, time for a little bit of truth. Ever since you started having "regular" sex, you learned that while cocks are nice, it's so much more pleasurable for you to have a man with skilled fingers. You liked that stimulation so much better for some reason - but hey, hey, hey, if Joel wanted to offer you a romp in the sheets, you wouldn't say no.

"Yep," you gulped, answering your companion and reaching for his other hand to forcefully grope your breast. It'd been far too long since you were intimate with another person, so, you didn't want nice and gentle. You weren't even sure if this thing with Joel would (or could) ever happen again, so, you really didn't want it nice and gentle.

"Darlin'," Joel warned, moaning in your ear as he slipped his finger inside you - wetness welcoming him like a vortex into your unknown. "I don't think I can stop - we should stop now. We should stop now, doll, c'mon."

"I'm not doin' anythin'," you whispered, whining when he pushed a second finger in.

"So fuckin' good for me," he grit.

"Joel? Joel?"

"What's wrong - "

"No, nothing, I just - I want this, too. I don't want you to stop."

"You don't mean that - "

"Joel, however long you've wanted me is probably almost as long as I've wanted you. Please," you whispered your beg. "I just want to feel you. Give me a bit of life, Joel, baby, please, I just want to feel alive."

Joel sighed your name, and you pushed his hands off to lift onto your hands and twist around. He looked up at you for a moment before reaching up to hook his hand around your neck and pull you forward until your lips collided in a frenzy of lips, teeth, and tongue.

Joel knew kissing you was a bad idea, but he was out of fucks to give at the moment. He wanted this, so, he'd relish in it.

He had you, he finally had you - and he wasn't about to give you up for the fucking world. He sighed before completely submitting himself to your charm; to you.

Knowing he had fucked someone more recently than you, you reached for the outline of his straining member and reacquainted yourself with the feel of a cock - of a hard cock hidden beneath fabric. Joel was right, you were starting to feel that juvenile excitement as if this was your first time again, and how you loved it.

Your lover moaned into your mouth, nearly hissing at the feel of your hand over his hot cock; trying to gulp down the feeling and not bust his load right then and there. "Can I take these off?" Joel asked, toying with your panties.

"Please," you breathed, helping him shed your last layer of decency before hitching your leg up his hip again and exposing your cunt to his wondering hands. Your moan was broken and whimpered when he pushed two fingers in again, letting go of him for a moment before latching onto his arm when Joel increased the speed of him tempo.

You begged his name for reprieve, but there was no mercy to be found in Joel's actions. You whimpered and shoved your face in his neck, unconsciously humping into his ministrations as Joel slowed himself into sweeping motions to search for you G-spot. You couldn't remember the last time you had such a diligent love, most simply thinking the clit was enough - and while it was with a vibrator, it wasn't if your sexual partner didn't know where the fucking clit was!

However, Joel proved he was well-versed in how to please a woman, and while he wasn't a regular Casanova, he was determined to bring you to your peak. "There, there," you jolted when his finger pad found that spongy-good spot inside your inner walls that, when stimulated, had you seeing stars. "Oh, my God, yes, yes, fuuuck yes," you whimpered, needing to open your mouth to latch onto his shoulder as your climax reared its white-hot head.

"C'mon, darlin', lemme feel you," Joel muttered, his Southern accent coming out into play more as he reached for your clit at the same time. The combined efforts had you ready to cry. "I know you're there, c'mon, c'mon, baby, want you to cum all over my fingers, c'mon - yeah, like that, good fuckin' girl, there it is," he coached, watching you closely as you briefly forgot to breathe.

You would've been ashamed of the moan you let out if anyone else was around, and if the storm didn't drown you out; Joel praising you for doing 'so good' for him as he stared down to watch you twitch and cum - coating his hand.

You didn't usually squirt unless your G-spot was hit, and Joel seemed mesmerized by the messy action as well as the sight. It made him feel both prideful and primal to see himself splattered with your juices. However, it wasn't enough to distract Joel for long - who didn't let up. He kept you going by never removing his fingers, and instead, watched as he coaxed you through your epic ride. "That was better than I imagined, baby," Joel admitted quietly.

"You might change your mind before the sun comes up."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yep. I wanna be on top."

Joel paused for a moment, blinking at you, then decided, "Maybe for one of the rounds - but the first one, I'll be the one fucking you."

With a growing smirk, you taunted, "Bring it on, cowboy."

author isn't very confident writing NSFW, but hey, practice makes perfect, right?

requesting rules and masterlist

TLOU masterlist

[ussgallifrey]

(She Moves With) Shameless Wonder | 29

✦ Summary: Your badge clearly said SHIELD consultant, so you weren’t entirely sure where Fury was getting this whole make you an Avenger idea from. But you had a feeling it might have something to do with the recent discovery of an artifact at the bottom of the Arctic Sea.

✦ Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

✦ Warnings: Canon divergence, dialogue taken directly from Captain America: Civil War and the Marvel Civil War comic, domestic Avengers, language, official team movie nights, political discourse, references to human trafficking and kidnapping, violence.

✦ Word Count: 7.7k

✦ Playlist: Here

✦ Cinematic Soundtrack: Here

[Master List]

Grabbing a handful of M&M's from Pietro’s offered bag, you hum in consideration, giving your answer at last, “No, I think I see what you’re saying.”

“Thank you!” Natasha sighs in relief.

Tony scoffs from his position on the loveseat. He’s got one leg hanging off the side and the other bent at the knee as he tries to balance a half-finished smoothie on his chest.

“No, I’m clearly a Will-type.”

You can’t help the immediate retching sound that escapes your lips as you sputter, “You are so not.”

“I mean, I can kinda see it?” Rhodey suggests from the armest beside Tony. He just happened to be in the area today and who could say no to Chinese takeout and a movie when Stark was footing the bill?

Beside you, Steve tilts his head. His eyes, darkened in the low light, squint at the screen across the room.

“No, no. We have to be honest with ourselves here,” Natasha placates. “If Tony is anyone, it’s Jack. I mean - ”

As if to explain herself, you all find yourselves watching as Jack performs his daring escape from Norrington and the redcoats. Your eyes follow the pirate captain as he goes sailing on the rope.

“Yeah, I see it,” Steve agrees as the pirate runs across the bridge, getting shot at by Norrington’s men.

Which is followed by a rumbling agreement amongst your fellow movie-watchers.

“Fine, fine,” Tony grumbles, sitting up to run a hand through his hair as he glances around at the rest of the team. “Then tell me this, who else is supposedly dashing young Mr. Turner if not moi?”

You, Clint, Natasha, Rhodey, and Sam almost unanimously say: “Steve.”

With a groan of exasperation, Tony raises his hands in defeat, “Come on!”

“Okay, hear me out,” Natasha points with her drink at the TV. “Boyish charm, protective of the girl he’s had a crush on for ages - ”

This is met with a general hum of approval, though you don’t entirely see how that fits the bill for Steve. The supersoldier in question has his face turned away, occupied with his phone from the looks of it as the bluish-white light of the screen has his face lit up in odd angles in the otherwise darkened room.

“- jumping into a fight he may or may not be able to handle.”

“Total misunderstanding of how the world around him works - you know, with the pirates and shit,” Clint adds with a laugh.

“Awww, come on,” you call out, wrapping your hand around Steve’s left arm, giving him a squeeze of reassurance. “Lay off the guy. He’s nearly a centenarian!”

At last, he turns to look down at you, a smile blooming across his features, as he turns off his phone.

“That’s rich coming from the thirty-five-hundred-year-old sitting next to me.”

“Hey!” you accuse, removing your hand to smack him across the shoulder instead before your eyes travel across the room to the source of your disdain. “Romanoff, I thought I swore you to secrecy on that!”

“Beggars and choosers, Seven,” she grins with a wolfish smile as she tosses a piece of popcorn into her mouth. 

Damn spies. She had pulled that little tidbit out of Dionysus when he was into his fifth glass of wine during your birthday party last year.

“Captain Rogers would take on a new meaning entirely,” Vision contemplates from the island counter.

Wanda nods in agreement beside him as she finishes decorating the sugar cookies she has been working on for the better part of the afternoon.

“If Steve were to grow a beard and wield a cutlass, he would look the part.”

“A beard?” you question as you glance up at the supersoldier. “I can’t picture you with a beard.”

Steve absently rubs at his chin, smooth and stubble-free as always.

While Will begins dueling with Jack in the blacksmith’s shop, the lights in the living room suddenly brighten - leading to several groans of annoyance - and a sharp alarm rings out twice before FRIDAY jumps in.

“You have a Priority Three from Agent Hill, sir.”

The otherwise carefree expressions of the team seem to sober at once as Tony hits the pause button and stands.

“Right, conference room A, FRI. Patch her in.”

Wordlessly, the rest of you deposit your snacks and drinks and get up to follow Stark down the hall to the designated meeting area. Pietro moves to join you, but you put a hand on his shoulder and push him down.

“It’s okay. Stay here.”

He has that look on his face again, but Steve has his hand on your right elbow and he’s gently tugging you along, “We gotta go.”

Offering the teen a final look, you join the rest of the team. Wanda glances up from the cooling racks of cookies, while Vision merely watches the team disappear around the corner.

Though you enjoyed the carefree days at the Compound, you were all too aware of the fact that it was not the norm. 

FRIDAY's alarm interrupted many dinner nights, training sessions, and otherwise obligation-free evenings. Whether it was sightings of an ex-HYDRA operative shooting up a mall in Virginia or the mention of a scientist experimenting with old Chitari weaponry, you were all too used to the call for the Avengers coming in.

Hill’s already on the screen when you enter the room behind Steve. Tony has a holographic map up and two videos running on a loop. You study the city names and the topographical blue-lit mountains to get your bearings.

“This seems like a SHIELD thing, co-director. Not really an avenging thing.”

“Well,” Hill balks. “I thought this one might be of particular interest to you. This operation is just another in the latest stings we’ve conducted across the Midwest this past month.”

Taking a seat at the table, between Sam and Clint, you stare up at the flashing array of pictures from previous sting operations. There’s images of weapon cases, shootouts with masked gunmen, women. A lot of women in various states of well-being.

Tony taps on one picture in particular, enlarging it.

“Not to mention, we’ve been picking up on this more and more frequently.”

It’s an emblem of a snake. Coiled at the tail, standing upright with two visible fangs. You tilt your head to the side, studying it. Trying to remember where exactly you’ve seen this before.

Steve shares a pointed look with Sam before his gaze shifts over to you.

Oh, that’s where.

“Looks like a HYDRA knock-off,” Clint comments.

Steve nods, voice low as he says, “I was thinking the same thing.”

After their two-week-long mission in Texas, Steve had become very well acquainted with that symbol. Though it hadn’t been as graphically pleasing as this new emblem was. When he had discovered a trove of weapons caches in an abandoned storage warehouse, that image had been spray-painted onto the pallets.

Looks like whoever this group was had seriously upgraded since their last encounter with the Avengers.

“It very well could be,” Hill agrees. “Wasn’t their motto about lobbing off one head and another appearing? This could be a branch of some sort. Either way, the reason we’re calling you in tonight - ”

There’s a security feed of a hotel entrance, black and white, typical grainy quality. A woman, maybe early 20s at most, exits the building, says something to the doorman, and moves to the backseat of a waiting car.

“That’s Olivia Nichols, daughter of Jeffery Nichols - CEO of Horizon Global, a multinational corporation that has dealings all over the world. She was supposed to be en route to the airport to meet up with her friends for some kind of bachelorette party. The fact is, she never arrived. And this showed up two hours later in her father’s inbox.”

A cellphone video of a young girl, Olivia, tied to a chair, screaming into the camera appears in the hovering hologram above the conference table.

“Ransom?”

“None.”

Sharing a weary look with Natasha, you both stare at the girl’s panicked face.

“And we’re being asked to handle it because… she’s someone of importance?” Tony questions, voice calm as he flips through Hill’s transferred files.

“Well, that’s part of it,” Hill admits. “We’ve had eyes on a group operating about forty miles south of Las Vegas. Tonight, two truckloads were brought in. One might have had Olivia Nichols on it. The other…”

A final video pops up.

Two faceless guards have their hands on some boxy-looking gun. On the security camera, they aim it at a stack of wooden pallets. But instead of a simple bullet being discharged, a sharp white wave of energy shoots out from the muzzle.

“That’s Hammer tech. Son-of-a-bitch,” Tony grunts, scrubbing a hand across his chin. “Okay, so… kidnapping, illegal arms with extreme military-grade components in the hands of two-bit criminals. Is that about the gist of it?”

“Our insider says they have plans to cross the border tonight. And that they’ll have help.”

A final video appears. In it, a handful of SHIELD special ops agents are knocked out by a man in a dark combat suit. His face is obscured by a mask. The bullets do nothing to stop him as he surges forward and squeezes the neck of an agent to the point of decapitation.

“And one superpowered individual to wrap it out. Wonderful,” Rhodey comments.

Steve drums his knuckles on the table for a moment, a pensive look in his eyes as he studies the multiple videos and pictures.

“Do we have any more information on that individual?”

Hill shakes her head, “This is all I’ve got for you, Captain.”

With a nod, he glances over at Tony who remains silent for a moment as he also looks over the images.

“Right. Wheels up in ten. Hill, send the coordinates over to FRIDAY, we’ll talk when we’re up in the air.”

As you all exit the conference room, headed down to the armory to equip yourselves and suit up, you’re immediately met by both Wanda and Pietro.

“Uh…”

You shoot Steve a look as he goes to leave. He’s immediately at your side, arms crossed as he looks down at the two teenagers.

“Where are we headed?” Pietro asks brightly, bouncing on his heels.

“You? Nowhere.”

“Come on,” the boy groans. “It’s been over a year, we have been training every day. We can help. Let us come this time.”

“You know we can’t do that,” you settle.

Wanda’s eyes flash from you to Steve.

“We fought Ultron, for fuck’s sake - ” Steve flinches as the boy pushes forward with his speech. “We can handle ourselves.”

Placing a hand on the supersoldier’s shoulder, you take his place. This was not the first time you had heard this argument and you sincerely doubted it would be the last.

“We understand that. But you both know it should have never happened. You two were too young and untrained to be anywhere near a threat like that. It’s on us. Your safety is our responsibility. And, I’m sorry, but that’s one thing we’re not willing to risk.”

Pietro glares up at you with a dark look in his eyes, rage bristling along his fingertips.

“You’re going to keep training and you’re going to get better each day. And one day, you will join us in the field. But that day is not today. Now please, we need to go. Vision will stay here with you.”

“We don’t need a babysitter,” Wanda bites as she turns on her heel and walks away.

Pietro stares at you both for a moment more before he disappears in a flash, back down the hall toward the kitchen. Though you doubted that was his final destination.

Turning to look up at the supersoldier, you sigh and give a roll of your eyes.

“Let’s go.”

Steve rolls to the side, using the shield to cover his head as an electrically charged coil comes slamming down on top of him. He can feel the currents surging across the vibranium, but it’s muted compared to the wave of pain Natasha had just suffered.

Sweat soaks his uniform as the unnaturally hot temperatures of the Mojave make him swelter, even in the late-night hour.

“Tell me you got a bright idea up there, Tony.”

Stark soars past, blasting his repulsors at the masked criminal. The man merely turns around and sends his nearly thirty-foot-long coils up at the Iron Man who just barely avoids them.

“Uh, working on that.”

He chances a glance over in your direction. While they maintained the man’s attention, you and Clint had slithered away to deal with the cargo containers. One of which likely contained the missing woman.

Standing back onto his feet, he sends the shield flying at the silent fighter. It slams into his chest but seems to only send him back a foot or so before he’s slinging his electrical whips at the supersoldier once again.

One manages to coil its way around his arm and it burns. The surge of voltage ignites his blood - tears sparking at the corners of his eyes, a scream retching itself from his throat as he tries to fight it.

And then it’s gone in a breath as Steve collapses to his knees.

Sam slams into the masked man, feet first, knocking him completely off-balance.

“Got you, Cap,” he calls as he flies past for a second run at the guy.

Shoving his fist into the ground, Steve pushes himself back up once again.

“Okay, think I might have something here,” Tony calls over the comms. “It’s going to require a live bait for it to work though.”

With a sigh, Steve straightens his posture before asking, “What do you need me to do?”

When the fight is done with, and the supersoldier is sitting on the metal bench on the back of the quinjet, he finds relief in your worried eyes.

“Seriously, Rogers,” you chastise as you dab an alcohol-soaked cloth at the nasty cut above his left eye. “I leave you alone for one minute - ”

“About twenty, really.”

Your hand pauses as you fix him with a particularly heated look.

Steve offers you a crooked smile in return. With a shake of your head, you get back to cleaning him up.

“Twenty minutes, then. And look what happens to you. Were you always this reckless?”

Unable to stop the chuckle from happening, Steve looks away with a sheepish expression.

“Worse, probably.”

You make a humming noise as you go to grab one of the bandages created by the combined efforts of Stark Industries and Dr. Cho that can stitch together lacerations in the span of thirty minutes. They had been truly handy these past few missions out on the field. Mostly with Steve being the one in need of them.

“I’d believe it,” you murmur as you press down on the edge of the dressing to seal it to his skin.

When you back away to return the medical kit to its rightful organization, Steve sits up on the bench, watching your meticulous handiwork.

“How are they?” he questions.

Your body tenses for just a moment before you place the kit back in the cabinet next to the bench.

“They’ve all seen better days,” you admit.

While the team handled the guards and masked criminal - who had managed to get away, though Sam and Tony were currently flying after him - you and Clint had uncovered not a single container of weapons. Instead, you found thirty terrified women huddled together in the back of one of the shipping containers.

“The agents are getting their statements now. Most of them said they signed on to do a cash-under-the-table make-up trial. I’m sure there’s more to it than that, but that’s what I overheard.”

Based on the vacant expression on your face, Steve knows there’s far more to it than what you’re willing to say.

You had both dealt with your fair share of trafficking rings, prisoners, and HYDRA hostages before today. Steve didn’t have to ask to know what things you had likely seen when discovering the women.

When the hostages are safely secured in SHIELD’s hands and the quinjet is back in the air, they get a comm in from Tony. The masked man, apparently, disappeared about ten miles north near Mountain Pass - likely hiding out in one of the old mine shafts until the area was clear.

“Okay, we’ll get the word out,” he says from behind the controls.

A gentle hand on his shoulder has him glancing up to see you, your face already in your phone.

“I’m letting Agent 47 know now. They’ll get teams to set up a perimeter around the town. He won’t get far.”

As you continue typing, Steve gives you a nod before returning his attention to the open skies ahead of them.

Natasha subtly leans her head over in his direction, her eyes never leaving the match in front of them both, as she says,

“Twenty on Seven?”

Steve scoffs, watching as you gather Clint’s wrists together in one hand and pull him up and over your shoulder before bodyslamming him into the mats.

“It’s not really proper betting if we’re both betting on the same person, Nat.”

She hums in return as if to say fair enough, as the pair continue to watch the two of you spar.

He’s leaning on the edge of the mat, peering between the ropes as Clint uses his folded bow like a spear, slamming it onto your shoulder before going for a close-quarters jab to your abdomen.

Steve knows you’re holding back for Barton’s sake. Likely Natasha and the archer also know this fact. But you’re acting like you’re giving it your all.

His eyes become transfixed on the flexing of your biceps, the heaving of your chest as sweat rolls down your neck - dangling on your pendant before falling into the sweet divet of your breasts. It’s not very often that you dress in such a way - a dark sports bra and leggings, similar to what Natasha dones during training - but today it’s your outfit of choice. And Steve is definitely noticing.

He can feel the flush of heat near his ears and cheeks, as well as the rapid beat of his heart as you move around the ring like a gladiator. You flash him a smile as you charge at Clint, tackling him around the torso as you slam him into the ropes.

“OH!” Steve cheers.

“You got this, Clint,” Natasha calls out behind the clap of her hands. Though she immediately leans back over to the supersoldier and mutters, “He’s going to whine about this for days.”

With a laugh, he returns to singing your praises. Cheering you on as you corner the archer once again.

“Come on, we’re buddies, right?” Clint plays, eyeing an escape near your right side as he wipes the sweat from his brow.

“Co-workers at best,” you return with a wild smile as you capture his left forearm in your hand, twisting him around your back.

“That hurts, Seven.”

You let out a breathless chuckle as your hands find purchase on your bare hips.

“No, that actually hurts. What the hell did you do?”

At his concerned voice, your body language changes in an instant as you lean down to look at his wrist, “Are you okay? I swear I didn’t - ”

Clint lets out a triumphant hah as he latches his hands around your neck and physically pulls you up and over his body, slamming your back into the mats behind him. You’re on your feet in a second, crouching down low as you fix him with a predatory look.

“Ooh,” Natasha whistles. “Now you’ve awoken the God.”

“Oh shit,” he stumbles back.

You’re on top of the archer, pinning him down with your thighs and hands. Steve can’t make his gaze move away from the arch of your back before his eyes slowly travel down lower and lower.

“Sorry, Captain Rogers. Miss Romanoff. Mr. Barton. The Goddess Athena.”

Steve pulls away from the ring as he looks up at the ceiling where FRIDAY’s voice has come from. You’re off of Clint, offering him a hand as Natasha joins the supersoldier’s side.

“What is it, FRIDAY?”

“Uh… sir is requesting the team’s presence in Conference Room 2B. He says to tell you that Secretary… Dickless is here, Captain Rogers.”

His eyes move over to Nat.

He hears Clint’s wheezing laugh behind him, followed by your soft chuckle, as the archer manages out, “It’s true sir. This man has no dick.”

“No more Ghostbusters for you,” you say.

“Come on, it’s a classic.”

As Clint and Nat move ahead together - Steve hears her murmur something about needing to work on his footwork - you linger behind with the supersoldier. He turns his gaze on you, but you seem to be focused on the hallway ahead.

“What do you think this is about?” he inquires as the others move ahead through the double set of doors leading up to the stairs.

You pause for a moment, working over your thoughts.

“The SRA if I had to hazard a guess.”

His brows furrow as he stares down at you, “I thought Stark said those were dead on arrival?”

“Nothing in politics is ever truly guaranteed. Best case scenario, it’s an intimidation tactic. I mean…” you resume walking, Steve’s just a step behind you. “The guy’s been after Bruce ever since New York - before New York actually. He might be trying to pull a power move to make us give up his location.”

Steve lets that thought mull over for a moment as you head up the stairs, side-by-side.

Tony’s set up the meeting in the room furthest away from the main living space - right near the entrance to the residence building. And when he enters behind you, he lets out an internal breath of relief when he notices that the twins are not in attendance.

They shouldn’t - would never - be anywhere near the Secretary of State.

Ross is speaking with one of his aides as everyone finds a seat at the conference table. He wedges in next to Sam, while you find a spot between Natasha and Tony. You lean back to say something to the billionaire, careful to keep your words low - too low for even Steve to hear.

“Should I be worried?” Sam asks.

Steve turns to look back at his friend.

“Why? Do anything illegal lately?” he attempts a smile.

Sam shakes his head, “Man, our whole existence has basically been one act of defiance after the other.”

When Ross steps up, silence settles across the room. Steve immediately fixes his expression to be one of unmoving stoicness. He had faced down drill sergeants and SHIELD directors before. He knew how to school his features.

“Five years ago,” the Secretary starts. “I had a heart attack and dropped right in the middle of my backswing. Turns out it was the best round of my life because, after thirteen hours of surgery and a triple bypass, I found something forty years in the army had never taught me. Perspective.”

Steve catches your eye from across the table.

“The world owes the Avengers an unpayable debt.”

He immediately senses the but to that sentence as he crosses his arms.

“You have fought for us, protected us, risked your lives but while a great many people see you as heroes…”

There it is.

“There are some… who would prefer the word vigilantes.”

Natasha, never missing a beat, asks, “What word would you use, Mr. Secretary?”

He looks up, fixing the woman with a look, “How about dangerous?”

The man takes a moment to stare each of them down with his gaze. Steve can sense the physically unrestrained disdain he has for them all. Prejudice was not so easily hidden.

“What would you call a group of US-based, enhanced individuals who routinely ignore sovereign borders and inflict their will wherever they choose and who, frankly, seem unconcerned about what they leave behind?”

As the Secretary moves to the side of the table, the projector behind him lights up with a display. Steve has to restrain the roll of his eyes as he prepares himself. The man made a presentation. God help them all.

A black and white map appears with yellow labels. Without even reading them, Steve knows exactly where this is headed before a clip of Tony flying away from a Leviathan appears.

“New York.”

Rhodes looks away as a cellphone video of the Hulk jumping from a tall building down to the street - near the cameraperson - takes over.

“Washington D.C.”

Sam’s posture is rigid as a video of one of the hellicarriers crashing into the Potomac plays.

“Johannesburg.”

The Hulkbuster suit slams into the ground before the Hulk knocks it off-screen.

“London.”

A surge of Iron Legion bots swarms down upon the city as you slam the Abomination into the side of a museum building, fire sparking in the background.

“Sokovia.”

The city is ablaze. Dark black smoke chokes out the sky as drones of silver bots attack the civilian populace. A woman’s decapitated head -

“Okay,” he bites. “That’s enough.”

Ross, looking entirely pleased, nods at his aide to turn off the presentation.

“For the past four years, you’ve operated with unlimited power and no supervision - ”

“FRIDAY,” Steve turns in his seat as your voice, calm and steady, calls out, “Play archival clip A7 Rio de Janeiro 8.”

Without a word in return, a video appears on the projector behind Ross - who, if looks could kill, Steve assumes the entire room, the projector included, would be in flames.

A security camera quality video shows a team of armed guards outside of a building, firing at a creature. There’s an explosion before the screen goes dark.

“And A7 Culver 4,” your voice has the bristles of rage stemming from it now as you cross your arms over your chest.

Another security camera. A long glass hallway, smoke grenades. 

“And Culver 5.”

An exterior shot of armed men on a grass lawn, firing at a college campus. Large sonic cannons and tanks.

As you settle back in your seat, Tony perks up from the end of the table.

“And hey, FRI, while we’re at it, do you have anything from Harlem on the night of… oh, let’s say… June 4, 2010?”

Ross’ face turns so incredibly red that Steve almost believes a second heart attack is imminent as clips from the Dual of Harlem play out behind him. You had told him all about that particular mission; the clean-up process of securing the Abomination.

As you share a smile with Tony, Ross slowly attempts to gather his composure - straightening his tie.

“You know, since we’re playing out this trip down memory lane,” Tony smirks. “Figured fair was only fair since you and the SOCC were operating within sovereign borders, correct?”

“That was a military operation sanctioned by the US Government,” Ross warbles.

“Oh?” you question, straightening in your seat as you rise to the occasion. “Shall I have FRIDAY bring up the files for Operation: Buster as well?”

“Also a sanctioned operation. Whereas this team is not.”

“By the way, who exactly invited you here? I’m not in the habit of giving out invites to government officials who enjoy sniping my armor from me,” Tony questions with a tilt of his head.

“I did.”

Steve and the rest of the team turn toward the door as Hill walks in. Dressed in her usual tactical suit, but with her hair down, the co-director of SHIELD moves into the conference room. Standing opposite Ross near the front of the table, she keeps her hands behind her back and her chin high as she refuses to meet even one person’s gaze.

Settling his hands on the edge of the table, Ross regains his previous speech back from your hands.

“Unless you would like to bring up videos of you and the god Thor destroying this great city…” your silence lingers for a moment too long, allowing the Secretary to continue. “As I was saying, this is an arrangement that the government and many governments around the world can no longer tolerate. But I think we have the solution.”

Steve stares at the heavy booklet that his aide hands over to Ross.

“The SRA; the Superhuman Registration Act.”

The legislation is passed from Clint to Rhodes then Natasha. Down the table, it goes before it lands in front of Steve.

114-23: The Superhuman Registration Act stares back at him.

“Approved by fifty-four Congressmen and women it states that the Avengers shall no longer be a private organization.”

Steve’s gaze lands on Tony. That was more than what the billionaire had claimed. Apparently, the Democrats were more than willing to jump the aisle. 

“Instead, they’ll operate under the supervision of a government panel. Anyone wishing to use their powers in an official capacity will register with the government. They’ll go through the proper avenues of training and testing before they can be allowed out in the field to defend the people of this country.”

“Just this country?” Steve questions as he raps his knuckles against the book before passing it along to Tony.

“Allied nations, of course,” Ross supplements.

Steve, unable to keep his mouth closed now that he’s opened it stares up at the Secretary as he says, “The Avengers were formed to make this world a safer place. I feel we’ve done that.”

Ross immediately counters, “Tell me, Captain. Do you know where Thor and Banner are right now? If I misplaced a couple of thirty-ton megaton nukes - ”

Before he can respond, you chime in, “The Virgin Islands.”

With the man’s attention turned on you, you offer him your sneeriest smile.

“I just spoke to them yesterday. They’ve been enjoying a thoroughly wonderful vacation in one of your territories.”

The Secretary clears his throat, signaling to his aide.

Your secretive smile curves further as Steve catches your eye. Clever girl is what he wishes he could say to you.

“Compromise,” he restarts as he moves back to the head of the table. “Reassurance. That’s how the world works. Believe me, this is the middle ground.”

Rhodes looks down at Tony before he addresses the Secretary, “So, there are contingencies.”

“Three days from now, this piece of legislation will be up for a vote in the Senate. After that, the House. Talk it over.”

Having apparently said his fill, Ross and his aide move to leave.

Clint looks back at the Secretary as he retreats, “And what if we come to a decision you don’t like?”

Ross pauses near the door, by Tony’s chair.

“Then you retire.”

Nodding at his aide, the two disappear into the hallway.

“Don’t let the door… smack your stupid ass on the way out,” Tony mutters to himself, dragging a hand down his face.

“How’s it going, Maria?” Clint chatters as he kicks his feet up onto the edge of the table.

Steve turns his attention back to the co-director as she saunters over to the table.

“It was necessary.”

“Inviting Thunderbolt Ross to our house? That was necessary?” Tony questions with a biting tone. “Thanks for the memo, by the way. Minutes before it happened.”

He feels his fingers tightening into a fist on the table before he forces himself to relax his hand.

“While you guys have been galavanting around the world, mission to mission, I’ve been trying to rebuild SHIELD from the ground up. Do you know what kind of measures I’ve had to implement to get the government to trust us as an official entity once again?”

“Once Insight went to shit, you had the country in an uproar - screaming at their senators and representatives, demanding we get disbanded. But then I’d just be handing over control to the Army. And… I think we all know how well that went over…”

Her gaze moves from the table to the door in which Ross had just exited.

“A little compromise with them is going to lead to us still being able to function in any real capacity. The next time aliens decide to attack New York, we’ll actually be able to handle it instead of having a higher government panel choose to nuke the city. That’s why I brought Ross in.”

“So… instead of us getting to decide when and where we need to be, we’ll have... who exactly doing the deciding?”

With a sigh, Hill looks from Tony to Steve, trying to maintain their gaze.

“This is a way to get your foot in the door to negotiate your terms. Stark, you know all about that.”

Seeing that she’s still not garnered an inch of trust, she pushes on, “I did this to give Ross the impression that he’s got the power here. But, come on, you guys have two Gods on your side. That’s more than enough to sway things in your favor.”

“Our favor, or SHIELD’s?”

Steve raises his head as you fix Hill with a bristling look.

The co-director straightens her posture, smoothing out the imaginary wrinkles on her suit.

“Both. It’s mutually beneficial legislation.”

Movement from across the table catches the supersoldier’s eye. You push yourself away from the table, ignoring Natasha’s worried eyes and Tony’s words of complaint.

“Agent Seven,” Hill uses her commanding tone to gain your attention like you were just another soldier who would just fall in line at the snap of her fingers.

While your brow is raised in question, you merely cross your arms and stare at the co-director.

“I’m sorry. I thought these were human affairs. As someone who is in fact in-human, I don’t think it’s necessary for me to sit here any longer and hear bull spew from your lips.”

Hill recoils before schooling her features, “You might not be human, but you do choose to live here amongst us and work with us.”

You shrug your head to the side, “That can always change.”

And then you’re out of the room before the woman can even form a rebuttal.

“Smooth,” Rhodey grimaces as he turns in his chair to look at the rest of the team.

Steve watches your retreating form, your steps hurried as you disappear down the hallway. Without much more thought, he’s up and out of his chair.

“Captain Rogers.”

He turns, offering her an equally neutral look, “Yes, co-director?”

“Steve,” she attempts instead, trying to play to his humanity like it wasn’t the oldest trick in the book.

“Hill. Don’t try and play politics with me. We need to stay above this stuff or we get Washington telling us who the villains are. I’ve seen it happen before and I’m not interested. If you’ll excuse me,” and then he’s out the door, going in the same direction you had.

He can hear someone call his name, Natasha he thinks, but he’s at a half-jog now, trying to catch up to you.

But Tony’s faster as he speeds around the corner - a hand reaching out to stop the supersoldier before he can get much farther than the end of the corridor.

“Hey, look - ”

Steve turns around, gaze sharp and posture rigid.

“Whoa, at ease. What I was going to say,” Tony sighs, raking a hand through his hair, “before you decided to run off was… we’re all on the same page here, Rogers. Fuck Ross, fuck the SRA. We’re not gonna have Yoko come in and try to split up the band.”

Steve blinks, “What?”

“Yoko… as in Ono? Oh, for fucks sake I thought you already covered this. Beatles, circa ‘69. The Let It Be album. Trust me, you’ll get the reference eventually. Point is! We’re sticking together in telling Hill to suck it, alright?”

“Got it,” he mutters, gazing down the opposite end of the hallway.

“Right, just wanted to…” Tony reaches out, lightly tapping his shoulder once, twice, before he backs off. “Go and find your girl, or whatever.”

“She’s not my - ”

But the amused look on the billionaire’s face keeps him from finishing the sentence.

Because while you might not technically be Steve’s, most people would assume that wherever you were he likely wasn’t far behind. In every sense but the literal, you were Steve’s girl. Even he acknowledges that now.

The hallways filter off into three directions: the stairs to the lower levels - your quarters, the hall that leads to the living space and kitchen, and the third which splits off toward more empty meeting rooms and offices.

You were too worked up to go where the twins might be located, which nixed the first two halls. He ducks down the third instead. Glancing into each room he passes, but finds them to all be darkened and notably empty. 

“FRIDAY?” he calls out. “Do you have a location on Athena?”

“The Goddess Athena is not inside the Compound at this time, Captain Rogers.”

“Not inside the…” Steve mulls, glancing around the hall.

But then his eyes land on a final set of doors that lead out to a small garden area. It was a part of the building that had seen little to no use since Tony opened the Compound up to them all.

But Steve pushes open the door anyway. The stone-lined patio is also devoid of one particular goddess. However, his eyes travel over to a dark-stone-lined path that wraps around the corner of the fenced-in patio space. Having never ventured out this way himself, he’s actually sort of surprised to see you sitting on the edge of the covered dock along the river.

He doesn’t keep his approach quiet, giving you time to tell him off - to tell him to go away. But you don’t say a word.

You’ve got your leggings pushed up to your knees as you dangle your bare feet into the water. Tiny goosebumps cover your arms and neck as he draws near, dropping down beside you on the wooden deck.

“You have an uncanny habit of finding me, Rogers.”

Your voice is soft and lithe in the cool air of the early summer day. The clouds overhead are a subdued gray, thick rolling waves against an equally dull sky. The right kind of weather to match the conversation they had all been dragged into, he surmises.

“More of a hobby.”

Your eyes meet his and a half-smile graces the curve of your lips as you briefly take him in.

Removing his own shoes and socks, Steve slowly rolls the cuffs of his pant legs up high enough before he too eases his feet into the cool murky waters of the Hudson. With his hands folded in his lap, he watches the river flow past, allowing that lingering bit of silence to last a few minutes more.

But, eventually, he can’t help himself.

“What do you make of it?”

Your wary eyes meet his before you focus your attention back to the river.

“Whether they’ll happen or not?”

He gives a half-hearted shrug, “I suppose.”

You lean back, your hands splaying out against the wooden boards behind you, “I suppose there’s a higher chance now than there was before. If it gets through the Senate and eventually the House, you’ll just have to hope that Tony works his way with Ellis to dispel disaster before it hits.”

“We will?”

Your expression seems to say oh, caught that, did you? While Steve’s own brow furrows.

“Like I said, I’m not a permanent resident of this country. I could come and go and never be truly affected by any law they put in place.”

“Leave the team? Just like that?”

Before annoyance can cloud his mind, your left shoulder bumps into his right.

“I never said I wanted to. Just stating a fact. This whole bill… it’s a human issue, Steve,” your eyes meet his gaze. “It’s none of my business, really.”

Heaving a sigh, he drops his hands on either side of his body, feeling the smooth grain of the wood beneath his fingertips.

“And if I asked you what your true opinion on the SRA is?”

“I would say…” your hand seems to move to the pendant around your neck as your fingers draw circles over the locket itself for a few quiet beats. “That I could see some merits with it, in all honesty.”

Drawing one foot out of the water, you bend your leg at the knee as you turn to face him.

“Don’t get me wrong, with the right administration behind the wheel this could be a genuine good thing to enact. But the wrong government… well, then you get things like Insight.” 

With a sigh, you twist your fingers together. Steve can’t help himself from reaching out a hand to stop the motion. 

A bubble of laughter escapes your lips as you allow him to entwine your left hand with his right. Despite the amount of work you do, the fighting and sparring, your hands are smooth beneath his touch. Warm, despite the chilly air.

“I think… it wouldn’t hurt to have some sort of oversight, to keep things in check at times. I mean, there’s the entire Iron Legion debacle. Or… if we were to send Wanda and Pietro out now. You and I both know they need more training. If there are more people out there like them… I can’t imagine if they were just allowed to be out in the world with whatever powers they might possess with little to no combat training. It’d be like…”

Your free hand gestures outward as you try to think of the right analogy. Steve gets lost in the exasperated curl of your lips.

“Like… sending out your boot camp cadet for D-Day, you know? And honestly,” your voice grows soft, more somber in tone as your fingers tighten in his hold. “Ross had a point. Thor, Bruce, me - we are like nuclear warheads in the wrong place. We’re a destructive force never meant for the likes of humanity.”

“Please don’t say that,” Steve implores as he forces you to meet his eyes. “I mean it.”

With a nod, your eyes remaining on his, your hands tightening into an enclosed grip, you say, “Sometimes, it would be good to have someone keeping things in check. Even on a small scale, like… deciding who would be best equipped to handle a mission and who would be better to have on standby. Or, god, I don’t know. Not having two Gods entering a foreign country to threaten security guards for intel might be a good idea.”

Yeah, even Steve will admit that wasn’t the height of their crowning achievements. He lets the cool water rippling around his calves and feet settle him down to a point that his thoughts won’t be construed as angry.

“While I understand that,” he begins. “I just can’t see this working in our favor, at all.”

Giving a solemn nod, your hand slips from his hold.

“Even in a liberally-minded president’s hands, anything can be turned in the blink of an eye. Freedom disappearing overnight in the name of national security.”

Images of Project Insight play out in his mind. SHIELD had targeted millions across the country with their play at securing public safety. Every member of the team, the President, and millions of civilians of varying ages and creeds. Though it had been taken over by HYDRA, Fury had originally green-lit the project. That had been his solution for the attack on New York.

And now, after four years, this was the government’s solution to, well, them. The Avengers Initiative.

No, Steve wasn’t going to sit by the wayside and let the team be touched by the same people who had tried to nuke Manhattan, who had chased Bruce across the world, or who had tried to take the suit from Tony.

“You’ve got that face again.”

The supersoldier blinks, taking in your smile. Your eyes seem more radiant in the sunlight now as you begin to laugh.

“What face?” he questions with a quiet chuckle.

“The face you get whenever you plan to do something incredibly stupid.”

Steve shoves at your shoulder and you actually allow him to push you back. But then your right hand dips into the river and suddenly he’s got a spray of water in his face. And then he’s drawing his own legs out of the water and he’s crawling after your retreating form as you kick back at him with a high-pitched series of giggles, but he wraps his arms around your knees. And then he’s dragging you toward him, your body prone and your chest heaving as you recline against the deck.

Your hair is splayed outward around your head and your cheeks are tight with laughter as you settle him with a warm look and god he should just do it, just lean his lips down and capture your lips finally, fucking finally after all of these years.

“Oh, Rogers,” you sigh - your hand lifting up to ruffle his hair.

Steve ducks his head into your touch, eyelids fluttering as your fingers dig in.

“What am I going to do with you?”

Leaning his head down, his lips almost coming in contact with your very close and very warm chest, Steve mutters, “I could think of a few things.”

Your hand stalls and he wants to kick himself for saying anything at all, but as he lifts his head, he finds your easy smile, and all other thoughts seem to fade away as you huff out a breath, your knee shoving into his abdomen.

“God, you’re heavy.”

Knowing the moment for anything has long since passed him by once again, he plays the usual teasing card as he winces at your sharp kneecap.

“Okay, okay, I’m going. I’m going.”

As you sit up, smoothing your hair away from your face, and as he stands back up to offer you a hand of help, your sparkling eyes meet his gaze.

“Not too far, hopefully.”

As he clutches your hand, helping to pull you up to your feet, your body just a breath apart from his, he mutters, “Never. That’s a promise.”

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

[flowersandbigteeth]

Your first day with your alien husband

General Plot: You finally get your glasses fixed and begin sorting out matters of becoming an archduchess

Word Count: 3.5k

Kherae alien x female reader with glasses

💕 SFW MASTERPOST 💕

W: a bit of angst, sfw alien fluff

Tags: @almostoriginalartisan @lizzhearthz

“I want you to teach me more about managing the family estate, brother,” Dessin said as Idreod choked on his morning coffee. It was one of the few human inventions he really admired. It was bitter and earthy. Delicious. He was annoyed his brother was spoiling it. 

“What are you talking about?” he asked sharply, setting down his mug. “Why this all of a sudden?” 

He set his jaw. 

“I’ve been useless in the past, but I’ve grown up a bit. I want to be an asset to our family. You don’t think I hear the way the staff snicker about me? They think all I’m good for is perfume recommendations for their girlfriends. That was fine when I was young, but now I want some responsibility,” he said. 

“Dessin, this is work,” Idreod said, “not a game. If you want to play around I’ll give you a hundred million credits and you can invest in human cryptocurrency or the stock market. I’m told it’s amusing.” 

He growled. 

“You are always like this!” he snapped, “how can I grow if you are always treating me like a child?” 

“Don’t throw a tantrum. Why don’t you visit Gedra for a few days? Get your dick sucked and meet a new plaything,” Idreod said, already bored with this conversation, “I’ll send all your friends this time in celebration of my engagement, all expenses paid. You can call it my bachelor party, isn’t that what human men have?” 

He made a noise in the back of his throat. 

“You are not taking me seriously, Idreod!” he growled. 

Idreod barked out a tight laugh. 

“Of course I’m not Dessin. You’ve never done anything serious in your life and that’s fine. You’ll never have to want for anything, so why are you so upset?” 

He stood and glared at him. 

“You are so sick, brother. You get off on being superior to everyone but deep down you’re just a lonely fool. Someday you’ll find yourself alone with a knife in your back,” he hissed. 

Idreod rolled his eyes at him. 

“Will you be the one to put it there? Then who will pay your pleasure house bills, Dessin? Don’t be foolish. The humans have a saying. Don’t bite the hand that feeds you little brother.” 

He jumped up from the table, knocking his chair to the floor and stormed out of the room, which was just like him. 

If he really wanted something he would build it for himself, not beg his big brother for a position. He thought.  Idreod could give it to him, but then he would just get bored in a few months and return to his lifestyle. He wondered for a moment if he should just indulge him a little. He would get bored after all. 

Perhaps he was still a bit bitter from the day before because he shook the thought away. I am too soft on him already. He behaved with impunity, despite how it tarnished their family name, spent money lavishly without a thought for how it was made, and was generally a poor representative of the Zovith family. He didn’t owe him little kindnesses. 

He picked his coffee back up, determined to retrieve his good mood. In a few minutes he would meet his lovely fiance and begin her training. 

—

“That was so fast,” you told the optometrist as he handed you your new pair of glasses.  

“Yes, Kherae manufacturing technology is much more advanced than human,'' the Kheraen doctor said. 

You pulled on the pair and blinked at him as your world came into focus. Like most Kherae he was handsome, but quite a bit older than you with heavy lines in his face and silver tipping his once jet black horns. 

“You know we can have your vision corrected,” he offered, “it is a simple procedure. You’ll suffer a day of blindness while the nanites restructure your lenses, but after that your vision will be perfect.” 

You smiled at him, just happy you could see. 

“Actually, that might be nice,” you said. 

You’d always wished I had good vision, being legally blind was such a limitation. He smiled at you. 

“I will have a consultation added to your schedule,” he said gathering his tools, “we’ll be in touch soon.” 

You thanked the doctor and finished the breakfast the maids had brought you when he left. 

A few minutes later Airies appeared and you got a proper look at him for the first time. He was a lean Kherae, with their signature purple skin and spade tipped tail. His horns were short and stuck out of neatly cropped black hair in delicate arcs. 

“Archduke Zovith will see you, my lady,” he informed you, gathering you up and leading you down the hall to his office. 

You were impressed with the decor now that you could see it. Everything was done in tasteful neutral tones with pretty Kheraen art hung on the walls. Aries noticed you looking and stopped. 

“If there is anything not to your liking, my lady, please let me know and we will change it,” he said, “the archduke has given you free reign to decorate as you like. He doesn’t really care about such things. This office looks the same as every other office on Kherae, it would be nice if you would freshen it up for us.” 

You nodded and hurried along after him. Your heart pattered in your chest. You were about to see your husband for the first time. 

“(Y/N), you look lovely this morning!” you looked up to find Dessin standing in front of you. He was taller than Airies and a bit bulkier with messy golden hair that just covered his ears and black eyes. His horns delicately curled back on themselves in smooth rolls. He was certainly more good looking than you imagined and you blushed a little remembering that you’d kissed him on the cheek. 

“Good morning Dessin,” you said, trying to hide your blush with a little bow.

“Are you on your way to see my brother?” he asked, seeming a little flushed and out of breath. 

“Oh yes,” you said, “he wants to teach me how to manage the estate.” 

Dessin’s face turned chilly for a moment. 

“So he will teach you but not me,” he growled.

You frowned. 

“I’m sorry, did I say something wrong?” you asked. 

He shook the dourness away and smiled, revealing bright white teeth. 

“No, not at all (Y/N). You can’t say anything to offend me,” he said, taking your hand suddenly and kissing it. Your cheeks felt like hot irons. 

Airies cleared his throat. 

“I think we should be going now,” he said tightly. 

You nodded and pulled your hand away. 

“See you Dessin,” you said and followed Airies into Idreod’s office. 

Golden eyes gripped you when you walked in the room and you stumbled into Airies’ back. 

“My lady!” he exclaimed, catching you, but you were looking at the Archduke. 

He was a beautiful male, looking like some kind of god out of a fairy tale. 

His skin was deep plump, making his bright golden eyes shine like polished coins. His hair was spun gold, that fell in a thick sheet down his back. Large, black horns curved backwards in a shallow bow. He had a painfully handsome face. You could see the resemblance with Dessin, but he was so much more, the kind of face that broke spirits. His aura leaked complete power and esteem. 

Large hands splayed across the desk as he rose. 

“Are you well?” he asked, his eyes narrowing. You felt the urge to brush his delicate, gilt eyelashes with your fingertips. With Airies’ help, you steadied yourself and nodded shyly. 

“Do your glasses work properly?” he asked. 

“Yes, thank you for sending the doctor, he was very nice,” you replied. 

“Leave us,” he said to Airies, waving at him sharply. 

When we were alone his eyes inspected you from top to bottom. He smiled coolly and you felt a shiver go down your spine. 

“You are dressed befitting an archduchess,” he said, opening a drawer in his desk. 

You looked down at the purple dress the maids had given you in the morning. It was a scalloped, boat neck, A-line that fell neatly at your knees. They’d even done your makeup and hair to look pristine. Being fussed over would take some getting used to, but you could appreciate having your eyeliner done perfectly every time. 

“You should look like this every day, because you will show up to do business every day,” he explained, “but as a Zovith you must be even more extravagant. Our title is recognized and our rank must be easy to identify when we enter a room.” 

He crossed the room holding a square box, opening it to reveal a platinum and diamond brooch with a large emerald at the center. You swallowed thickly as his large fingers manipulated the delicate piece of jewelry and fastened it to your chest. 

“I’ll give you a new one every day, ” he said, quietly, his eyes intently searching yours. 

You felt your cheeks burn. 

“That’s really too much,” you mumbled. 

He frowned and stood up straight. 

“It is not,” he said, curtly, returning to his desk, “you will have something new every day. My wife will exude a certain status.” 

You crossed your arms. 

“Idreod, isn’t that a bit wasteful? New jewelry every day? Wouldn’t it be just as impressive to open an orphanage or start a food pantry? You can put your name and glitter all over that if you like!” 

He glared at you, but you were becoming more immune to his intensity by the second. You weren't sure why, but he didn’t exactly scare you. He was a lot for sure, but not frightening. Seeing that you weren’t backing down, he blinked and tapped the button on his desk to call Airies. 

“Send in Mr. (Y/LN)!” he barked.

Your heart fluttered as your father entered the room. 

“Daddy!” you squealed, jumping on him. He held you tightly in his arms, breathing into your hair. 

“I was so worried about you ladybug,” he murmured, “you shouldn’t have done this. Please, let’s go home. I’ll sell the shop and we’ll get out of town together. It doesn’t matter.” 

He inspected you carefully. 

“He hasn’t harmed you, has he?” 

You shook your head. 

“No, Idreod has been very…thoughtful,” you said diplomatically. 

He glared at your fiance. 

“Look Mr. Zovith. I know my daughter is very headstrong and foolish, but I’m not okay with this. I’m taking her home right now. This deal is off.” 

“Daddy!” you shouted indignantly. 

He looked at you. 

“Well you are! What were you thinking selling yourself to an alien?” he snapped, “did you think I was just going to give my only daughter away? I’d rather die!” 

“You would have died!” you countered, “Typhon would have killed you!” 

“Which would have been preferable to this!” he went on. 

“Mr. (YLN),” Idreod broke in, “I didn’t bring you here to negotiate. As the father of the future archduchess, you have a role to play as well.” 

Your father’s mouth dropped open. 

“A role to play? Let me tell you-” he started. 

Idreod held up his hand. 

“Mr. (YLN), what kind of future do you want for your daughter? Do you want her to spend the rest of her life looking over her shoulder while you scrape together enough to keep the wolves at bay every month? Who will that loanshark try to sell her to next? Did you know someone attempted to kidnap her on her way here? Who do you think that was? Together, we can provide her a life and I can promise protection. The life she deserves, as royalty.” 

He tapped a tablet on his desk. 

“This is an employment contract. Last night I bought a chain of laundromats. I can’t allow you to keep the one you own, but if you sign this, you will be president of this company. You can see your daughter as much as you like as long as you agree to appear at necessary functions. You also agree to sign a sworn statement saying I met your daughter after I hired you as president.” 

Your father gritted his teeth. 

“I’m not selling my daughter,” he said. 

Idreod gave him a cool smile.

“You are not,” he said, “you are becoming a Zovith.” 

You took your dad’s hand. 

“Daddy, please. Just do this…for me? I wish I could have saved the laundromat, but I won’t let you die if I can do something to stop it,” you said.

He looked at you and rubbed his eyes. 

“Ladybug. It’s not about the-” 

He sighed and crossed the room to Idreod’s desk. 

“Fine,” he said, swiping his finger across the screen, then he glanced up. 

“If you hurt her,” he said, “I will do anything and everything I have to do to end you.” 

Idreod seemed unmoved by his threats, but nodded anyway. 

“Of course,” he said, “I wouldn’t assume any less, but I assure you (Y/N) is in the best hands. I don’t just see your daughter as a means to an end, Mr. (L/N). She will be my precious wife and will be treated like fine china.” 

You weren’t sure if those were placating words, but they shocked you just the same. 

Your father nodded, seeming a little defeated, but still suspicious. 

“If you don’t mind reviewing your new role with my assistant Airies,” Idreod said, “(Y/N) and I still have business to attend to today. There will be time for you to reconnect after work hours.” 

You gave your father an optimistic smile as he clutched the tablet in his hands like a lifejacket. 

“Everything will be alright, daddy,” you assured him. 

It took a few more minutes, but you finally convinced your father that you were safe and he could leave the room to go on with his day. 

“Thank you for saying those things,” you said, when he was gone, “I think it helped.” 

I nodded at her. 

“We are a team,” Idreod said, “I only act to benefit both of us.” 

Your eyebrows bobbed up, but you nodded. 

“Oh…okay,” you said, folding your hands and looking down at them. 

“There’s something we need to do,” he said, “follow me.” 

Idreod was hesitant to do this, but it needed to be done. As Idreod led you past Airies’ empty desk to the first floor of the building, his subordinates couldn’t keep their eyes to themselves, all curious about the new Archduchess. 

He called his personal driver and had you carted across town to the local botanical gardens. 

“What are we doing here?” you asked as he helped you out of the car. 

“We have important business,” Idreod told you gravely. 

He led you through the garden, which he’d reserved just for you the night before. Ahead of you, clouds of butterflies flitted here and there from where he’d had them released for this occasion. 

The roses were in full bloom and the air was sweet with their fragrance. 

“When I came to Earth, you know what stunned me the most?” he asked. 

You looked up at him, pushing your glasses up on your nose. 

“No,” you said. 

“The varieties of flowers,” he commented, brushing a finger over a fleshy bloom, “the foliage of Akhet is mostly purple with few flowers, but Spring here is like its own festival, full of life and color.” 

He looked at you. A flower petal had fallen in your hair. 

“No flower here is quite as lovely as you, though,” he said, plucking the soft scrap from your head. 

Your cheeks burned and he kneeled in front of you, removing the little box from the pocket he had hidden there. 

“(Y/N), will you do me the honor of being my wife?” Idreod asked, presenting you the ring inside. He hoped he was doing this correctly. Aries had suggested some movies to watch for this moment, but he wasn’t sure if it was having the desired effect. Your face darkened and your mouth fell open as your eyes widened. 

“Ah…” 

He frowned. 

“Did you change your mind?” he asked. 

You blinked and then your eyebrows jumped up. 

“Yes!”

His face looked suddenly, actually, quite horrified. It was shocking on such a usually composed alien. 

“...I mean no! Wait..I mean. Yes…I will marry you,” you said, straightening your dress, nervously. 

A genuine grin bloomed on his face for the first time that was not related to someone else’s death. Your acceptance was far more satisfying than he expected. He felt warm and tingly all over. He reached out for your hand and you shakily held it out to him. 

Your fingers were trembling while he slid the ring on to the right one. 

He stood and took your arm. 

“Come, let’s take a moment to celebrate before we have to return to the office.” 

You nodded up at him, your face flushed. 

He led you to a pagoda in the center of the gardens where he’d had his staff set up a violinist and some champagne. 

“You arranged all this?” you asked, seeming stunned. 

He looked down at you. 

“Of course, is it not traditional for human brides?” Idreod asked. It was possible he had misunderstood some cultural nuance. 

You blinked at him. 

“Um…I guess so…Usually the groom does something special,” you mumbled. 

“Then what’s wrong?” he asked. 

Your eyes became a little wet. 

“It’s just all so lovely. I never expected…I’m sorry, I’m getting a little emotional,” you said. 

“Have a glass of champagne,” he offered, releasing your hand and popping the bottle for you. 

He handed you a glass and you took a thirsty sip before giving him a wet smile. 

“Maybe I’m just a little sad,” you said, sighing, “this is so perfect, almost like I had always imagined it, but I thought it would be with someone who loved me.” 

You gouged him with your honesty, but there was something so pure about it, he couldn’t really be hurt. 

He tipped your chin up to him. 

“You are so lovable, (Y/N),” he told you, “do you believe in fate?” 

You blinked at him. 

“I don’t know. I’ve never had any reason to,” you said. 

“In Kherae culture it’s believed that the goddess guides us to our fated mate, our perfect counterpart,” he explained, unsure if he should even be saying it, “I never put much stock into it to be honest,  but if it’s true and I have a fated one. I hope that it's you.” 

Your cheeks darkened again, but he refused to let your chin go and instead leaned his head down to press his lips against yours. 

Idreod had never kissed before. It was some kind of magic. 

Your heart exploded in your chest as you felt his soft flesh grazing yours. He tasted sweet and tart with champagne on his lips. His fingers flew to your cheek, drawing you closer. You wanted every ounce of him. His tongue slipped past your lips, exploring you and you welcomed it. You had no way of knowing this but you could have taken whatever you liked, as fast or as slow as you wanted it. From that moment forward, everything that was his became yours. 

When you parted, you stared up at him, your fist clutching his chest while he panted. 

Airies cleared his throat and you both looked up to find him standing patiently to the side. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt you, Master,” he said in his usual polite way, “but the schedule demands we move on, unless you would like me to cancel your afternoon appointments?” 

Idreod straightened himself and collected the glass from your hand. 

“No, you’re correct. There’s a lot to get (Y/N) caught up on.” 

[theravenclawlover]

🎃Kinktober Day 31🎃

Day Prompt: A combination of any day: Edging/Bondage & Blindfolds/Vibrators & Toys

Word Count: 1,807

Warnings: +18 (MDNI), filth, absolute filth, sexual content, lewd language, female reader, teasing, blindfold, ropes/bondage, edging, overstimulation, vibrators/toys, oral sex (f receiving), anal play, anal plug, and my shit yet fun writing.

A/N: IT'S STILL HALLOWE'EN FOR ME SO I'M ON TIME! HAVE FUN!

Bill Weasley x F!Reader

Maybe you deserved the torture, it was all culmination of your mistake of forgetting Bill’s birthday. Not that he knew you had, but you had totally blanked on his last birthday, and you had made up a story about how the last-minute coupon could be redeemed only once throughout the year until his next birthday. And it had been a busy year given your jobs, but he finally had gotten around to bringing it up again, and he’d used it very well. He’d ask for a night where he could tease you all night. Obviously, if it was too much you could say no, but guilt had overridden the desire to pass on the torture you knew he was capable of, so you had said yes.

And now you were tied to the bed, arms above you with ropes attached to the bed frame, same wet for your ankles, leaving room for little squirming or closing your legs if it got too much. And to add the cherry, you had a blindfold on you, depriving you of the sight that was Bill and his mischievous eyes. A look that reminded you just how much of a Weasley he was, the curiosity that took over him in moments like this was both exhilarating and nerve-wracking.

You don’t even know how long he’s had you like this, his fingers and mouth teasing you all over until you could barely comprehend the situation at hand, begging for him to touch you where you most needed him, and not only to slightly rub your clit or tease a single finger in before tracing your slick on some part of your body, even your lips at times, leaving them glossy before your tongue instinctively licked it away.

And to make matters even more intense, Bill was only talking to you when he felt like teasing you about your moans. It made your lack of sight all the more intense, to have to rely on his little words of indication. You trusted him fully, knowing that he wouldn’t do anything to cross your boundaries, but it was only human to feel the slightest sense of unease as you heard him move away from the bed as you chuckled at your whine.

“Shh, love,” he said. You heard a bag being picked up, then boxes being opened. “You’ve been doing quite well, doing as told. Such a good girl, love.”

You moaned at the praise, the sound of his voice a treat to your imagination. You could almost see him by the dresser, opening whatever he had come home with.

“And because you’ve been so good, I’ll give you a little treat, baby.”

Your ears caught the sound of his movements, coming back to the bed, right in front of you, watching your bare form with his usual lustful eyes. It was a look that drove you nuts, and a whine escaped you as you couldn’t see it now when he had you where he wanted you.

More noise came, a clicking of sorts, and then he was climbing the bed, knees digging into the mattress. You felt something cold land by your twitching thigh and something right between your legs. Your heart was pounding in your ears as your batted breaths covered the rest of the noises you could catch. You felt heat on top of you, and you knew it to be Bill, and then his lips placed a soft kiss in the valley of your breasts, and then another above each breast until his lips were kissing your parted ones. You whined as his tongue traced your bottom lip, taking in the taste of you that lingered there. The kiss was soft compared to the need you felt, but you followed his pace but as you pushed your mouth harder against his, he pulled back with another chuckle. The tease.

He moved away, and you heard the faintest of snaps, a second of silence, and then another snap, almost a click.

“Wh-” but the question died in your throat as you felt a slick finger tease your asshole. “Bill.”

“It’s alright, love, nothing new,” he said, you could almost hear the grin. “Well, at least not yet.”

You didn’t ask for more information as his forefinger pushed in with small pressure. You moaned at the intrusion, the smallest of discomforts and then you moaned even louder when Bill pushed forward to mouth at your slick folds.

“Aw fuck,” you cursed, head trashing as your hips tried to bulk higher, almost trying to get away as the hours of being starved of the feeling of his mouth became too much, your body unable to take the sudden touch. Your hands clenched as you tried to reach for him. A whine escaped your mouth, a plead of his name. But Bill grinned against you, his tongue burying inside your slicked hole while his finger fucked your ass, following a rhythm that had you crying for him, his name suddenly becoming a prayer, Bill being your god.

And in minutes you felt it, the need to cum, that heat pooling on your stomach until the band that held it snapped, but that sweet feeling didn’t come. Bill pulled away, only leaving his finger to open your asshole for him.

“Not yet, baby, can’t have you cumming yet.”

You pleaded in what you hoped were coherent words, but something told you it was nothing but sobs and gibberish as your hips trashed in their limited movements. Bill added more lube, making you flinch and whine, and it was a mess of stickiness from your overflowing slickness and the lube with his saliva. Another finger joined his pointer, and you were gasping as the stretch did nothing but ask your orgasm to stay there, stuck and awaiting the opportunity to snap out of you.

But it didn’t come, not even when his fingers had fucked you to his satisfaction, and you were babbling pleas which he could only chuckle at before offering a teasing kiss or lick to your pussy.

But then he was moving slightly around, and when his fingers left you completely you almost screamed in agony for him to come back, but your whine was rewarded with more lube before the feeling of cold metal pushed back your rimmed hole.

“Shh, that’s it, love,” he cooed. “C’mon, baby, take it just like that.”

Bill pushed the plug slowly, making you feel every inch of the thing. His fingers had definitely been some help, but you still struggled to breathe a bit by the time he had pushed it flush against you.

“Breathe, darling, can’t have you passing out,” he said, a kiss to your thigh for reassurance. “We haven’t even gotten to the best part.”

You felt the blindfold get wet with small tears being dried by it, you were feeling so much, but you were not about to throw the white flag when you hadn’t even gotten your orgasm.

“Bill, p-please, needa cum,” you pleaded, ass clenching around the plug which made your cunt clench harder around nothing.

“Alright, baby, I’ll give you something,” he said against your lower tummy, a kiss there as his hand did something you couldn’t see nor quite make out the sound off. But the slightest of clicks made you flinch. “Now, I know you want to cum, but don’t. Unless you want to spend the rest of the night tied to the bed while I get off over and over. Leaving you on the verge until we get to fuck again.”

“O-ok, p-please,” you moaned. The shiver that went up your spine was a small reminder of the last time he’d done that to you. Hours of edging resulted in days of it until he had finally let you cum around his cock.

But when you had made your promise you hadn’t expected the sudden click of a vibrator, and then you hadn’t expected it to be so loud when it got near you, nor had you expected the assault of it against your stiff and sensitive clit.

You cried out as your hips trashed, head moving as if trying to rid of the blindfold to watch as Bill pressed the vibrator to you while two of his fingers dipped inside of you like it was nothing. You were clenching around them and the butt plug, your walls unable to do nothing but squeeze whatever tried to give you beyond the pleasure and stimulation your clit was receiving.

You knew Bill was talking, you could feel his breath against your quivering thighs, but you couldn’t make it out. Your ears could only pay attention to the vibrator that was offering you so much but torturing you in heights, and the squelch of your cunt as Bill fucked you with his fingers, which quickly added up to three as your soaking cunt accepted more abuse before almost regretting it. You were gasping, moans only coming out in short sounds as you could barely focus on not cumming because you weren’t sure if you could take hours of denying your next orgasm if this was what it would be subjected to again, and then it would be harder because your clit wouldn’t be able to take it. And if you held back now, maybe Bill would be merciful enough to give you a break before assaulting you again.

“Fuck, baby, that’s it,” you made out from above the noise you were making, “good girl, love. Good fuckin’ girl.”

“Bill,” you warned as the wood of the frame cracked under your pull.

“Cum.”

And it was like something had hit you with a spell right on your stomach, letting the band rip to the point of becoming nothing but dust as your orgasm crashed and burnt you.

A gasp and a sob were the only sounds you made out as your hips rose off the bed, feet digging into the bed as best they could as the vibrator was still forced against you. Your orgasm gushed out of you like it knew no end, making your body tense and quiver like a woman in possession, eyes rolling back in the darkness that it had been submitted to, nails digging into your palms as your ears rang with the faint sounds of your squirting, Bill’s groan, and the damn vibrator still assaulting your clit. Forcing your orgasm to prolong obscenely.

When Bill turned off the vibrator and let it drop, so did you. Your body slumped like a limbless thing.

You didn’t even notice Bill kissing your body softly, praising and cooing at you as his wet chest and hair dragged against you. His lips were soft and practically cold against your feverish skin. You twitched when his lips got near your ears, voice deep and beyond husky.

“Ready for more?”