#please keep yourselves as safe as possible

[tuttle-did-it]

STOP USING BIOMETRICS TO UNLOCK YOUR TECH BEFORE GOING TO A PROTEST, RALLY, OR ACCESSING BIRTH CONTROL OPTIONS

Encrypt your tech. If you are US based, or in a country that does not protect your rights when it comes to cops, please read these article. There are not currently laws stopping the police from using your thumb or face to unlock your phone without consent or a warrant. Especially if you are taking any part in any protests throughout America, or accessing birth control needs.

Or you're, you know, queer, disabled, a person of colour, a woman, or generally just know how horrible the cops and government can be. They can pull you over for no reason, unlock your phone, and look for something to charge you with later. They can and will and have.

Cops will do ANYTHING they want, and chances are, the courts will let them.

(this might be relevant for other countries, too-- the protest rights are completely fucked here in the UK, so please be careful out there!!)

Helpfully, there is also a cop-proof your phone article as well:

[sweetpascal]

" someplace nice "

summary: when simon finally comes back home from deployment, he makes sure he spoils you in the best way possible. *wink wink*

warnings: cursing, teasing touches, husband!simon needs a warning of its own UGH, filthy car sex, messy pussy eating, wet noises, missonaryyy, filthy nasty dirty talk, we already know simon has the mouth of a sailor hehe

wc: 2.8k

notes: first of all, i wanna give a big big big shoutout to @suimon because without her AMAZING FUCKING PHENOMENAL works of art, i wouldn't have gotten out of my writing funk and they truly have inspired me 🫶🏼 second of all, i was on twitter and came across this spicy video and it basically helped me create whatever this is 😭 enjoy !

.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・

it wasn’t that you didn’t want to go out tonight. in fact, you’re ecstatic to go out with your husband. it’s only been two days since simon has been back from being deployed for almost one month. he had spent the two days sleeping and getting up to eat when it’s necessary, only to go back to sleeping. you didn’t care about that. you were just happy that he was back home. safe. alive. on the third day, he surprises you with a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

“we’re going out t’night,” he tells you, eyes all soft with a barely there smile on his lips when you go nose deep into the flowers and sniffing deeply with a pleased smile on your face. “i won’t tell you where. but it’s gonna be a nice place.”

that night, you got ready with nervous butterflies bubbling in the pit of your stomach. it had been so long since you and simon have been out on a date night. with his deployments and your full-time job, having time for yourselves, let alone as a couple was a rarity these days.

you sprayed yourself with simon’s favorite perfume of yours and did a once over in the mirror. your hair looked beautiful, your makeup was on point, your outfit wasn’t too flashy nor too casual - it was a body hugging dress with thin straps and tasteful cleavage and some wedged heels. as you walked downstairs, you saw simon waiting for you at the bottom with his keys in hand. he was dressed so nicely and the color of his dress shirt matched your dress. with tight fitting slacks and his ‘going out’ boots, you knew you’d be staring at him all night long. your cheeks warmed when you caught his gaze. his lips had parted and you could’ve sworn his eyes sparkled. although your heels added a few inches to your height, it was still nothing compared to simon. he still stood above you, two and a half heads taller.

“so.. how do i look?”

he didn’t like how hesitant you sounded. with a slow step forward, his finger hooked under your chin to lift your head up. god, the smell of him was mouth watering. you’re on your ovulating schedule so his natural musk combined with his cologne was like sinking your teeth into the tenderest meat there is. you nearly moaned. nearly.

“you look.. almost as beautiful as the day i met you,” he told you, so genuine, so soft, and so in love.

“almost?” you giggled and caught him off guard by pulling him down and clumsily kissing his chin instead of his lips.

“mhm,” he grumbled and led the way outside to his suv.

dinner went smoothly. simon had taken you both to a nice little italian restaurant downtown. it was the perfect place for a romantic night. the tables were dimly lit with candles and fresh flowers. he did everything a gentleman should do. pulling your chair out, knowing your favorite dish and ordering it for you, getting you your own dessert, paying. but the night still had a salacious vibe to it. for some reason, simon just couldn’t keep his hands to himself. his hand kept brushing up on your thigh, subtly hiking your dress up to feel your skin under his fingertips. you had to quietly scold him as the restaurant was nowhere near empty and your table wasn’t secluded from wandering eyes.

“can’t help it,” he told you in your ear, his voice all low and gruff and husky in a way that always had you tingling. “my wife s’just so fuckin’ gorgeous to look at.” and with that, he left a warm kiss under your earlobe, knowing exactly that was the spot he knew makes you whimper. and you did. only loud enough for him to her.

during the car ride home, it began to rain. it was damn near impossible to drive with the way the rain pelted hard and fast onto the windshield and roof. simon cursed under his breath, the hand resting on your thigh tightening for a brief second. you swallowed down a soft moan as it got lodged in the back of your throat. but simon, having the ears of a true soldier, heard it. he fucking hears everything. you hated and loved it simultaneously.

breaking free from your thoughts, the car swerves to the side to go down an empty road leading to an abandoned part. it was the only place farthest from town. no busy streets. no houses. no stores. it was deserted.

“si?” you were getting confused when he put the car into park and turned the ignition off. he turns on the top light and then turns to you. you expected him to give you a kiss with how he’s leaning over the console, but instead he reaches under your passenger seat, pulls the lever, and forcefully slides your seat further back so it puts a big amount of space between you and the dashboard. “simon?!”

“gimme a minute,” was all he says before getting out of the car and getting wet from the rain.

the door slams shut and you’re twisting and turning in your seat. it was pitch black outside with no streetlights, no house lights, no nothing. your side door is yanked open and simon hops in, slamming it shut and locking it after. he’s on his knees in front of you in the passenger side as you’re still in the seat, dumbfounded. he starts to unbutton his dress shirt as he stares down at you. the dim light in the car casts shadows on his face and he looks so fucking good.

your breathing starts picking up as he kneels before you shirtless. he then starts to unstrap your wedged heels, carelessly throwing them into the backseat. you finally let out a moan when he grabs your hips and forces you to slide down your seat and your thighs fall open.

“fuck, you smell so good,” simon grunts and buries his face between your thighs to mouth and nose at your covered cunt. he licks and sucks through the fabric, further getting it wet with his saliva. “taste like fuckin’ heaven.” he’s quick to slide your panties down and hoists your dress up to pool around your hips, fully exposing your bare cunt to his eyes and his eyes only.

“s-simon,” you whimper softly, eyebrows drawn and lips parted. the ache in your core began to hurt. your hips bucked and your thighs twitched. you didn’t know what you wanted. his hot, messy tongue. his long, powerful fingers. or his thick, hard cock. all you can utter is, “please.” please, anything.

immediately, he bows his head and licks a hot stripe from asshole to clit. he focuses more on your clit. he widens his tongue and uses his big hands to hook underneath your knees to press them into your chest. the wet slurps and hot puffs of air all over your messy pussy has you keening with uncontrollable twitches.

“ooh fuck, fuck, oh my god!” you grab onto his wide wrists, manicured nails digging into the skin for some stability. “fuck me. please, fuck me!”

when your voice gets all high pitched and whiny, simon knows it’s go-time. with one hand reaching down to expertly unbutton and slide down his slacks, he uses his other hand to spread your thighs open. your right foot rests on the window ledge. with the dim lighting and the rain pattering on the car roof, everything about this was romantic. simon lowers his head and gives your lips messy, hard kisses. all tongue. all teeth. heavy breathing and hushed moans. you tasted your slick and a hint of wine on his tongue. if that wasn’t the perfect combination, you didn’t know what was.

“you ready f’me?” his voice is so gruff and thick with lust. he taps the head of his leaking cock on your messy cunt. the lewd noises made you want to cover your face from embarrassment of how wet you are. “hm? ‘s this little cunt ready f’me to fuck her?” god, the things he says would be enough to make a deaf nun cry. but you didn’t care. you ached for him, everywhere.

“plea-please, si,” you weakly whimpered. your body was on fire and you were close to tears. wetness made your lashes clump and you sniffled softly. “need you. need it bad. need you.”

he tuts. he actually tuts. and the condescending smile he sends you makes you all the more embarrassed as your cunt leaked even more slick. “poor angel,” he croons and grins wolfishly. “poor, poor baby.”

and then finally, finally, he dips the head inside your pathetic little hole. and inch by inch, he slides in and then slides back out. he slides in again a little more and slides out again. the teasing torture was enough to make you start crying. simon’s arms wrapped around your trembling frame and he allows you to bury your face in his bare shoulders. you’re hugging his big, beefy body to yourself, your hands desperately holding onto his sides.

“i-i can’t ta-take it! fuck me, please, please, simon, please.” you’re babbling incoherently, sobbing softly into his skin and curling your toes as he grinds his cock up and down your cunt before finally sliding all the way in.

“there we go,” he coos in your ear. “there’s my girl.”

almost instantly, the sobbing stops and is replaced with garbled moans and punched gasps. your lips are open on his shoulder and drool slowly begins to seep out. you hug him closer as warmth explodes throughout your entire body from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.

“‘m y’girl,” you can barely form a coherent sentence.

“that’s right,” simon huffs, now starting to work his hips faster against yours. “my good girl.”

his hips smack into yours, his thickness filling you repeatedly. over and over and over again. the lewd wet noises of your slick leaking onto his balls and maybe his thighs has your cheeks flaming up. simon pounds into you, forcing every moan out of your chest and spilling from your lips, no matter how bad you wanted to quiet them as you two were still in the car and anybody could pull up. everything felt so good. he starts speeding up his thrusts, now pounding into you at an alarming speed and causing you to scream hoarsely in the small space. and then he slows to a grinding halt.

“mm, mm, mm,” you whimpered in his shoulder, tears freely sliding down your cheeks from the excessive pleasure you're receiving with little kisses of pain.

simon hears your reaction and does it again, this time creating a rhythm. he’ll fuck into you at a high speed and then slow down. he feels your tits bouncing against his chest and the way your swollen clit is continuously bumping against his pelvis.

“yeah,” he grunts in your ear, tightening his arms around your non-stop shaking body. “fuckin’ take my fuckin’ cock.”

your eyes slowly cross as he slows again, only fucking you with deep, slow, grinding thrusts. you’re 100% sure you’re leaking onto the seat right now. you wouldn’t be surprised if you were. simon’s cock was heaven and hell. you were obsessed. addicted, even. it look a lot of practice for you to take every inch in the early stages of your relationship. he made sure to take his time training your cunt into swallowing his hardness. simon pulled up just enough to capture your lips in a hot, messy kiss. he grinds deep inside, the tip of his cock nudging your cervix deliciously. your hands desperately grasped the sides of his face, your tongue sloppily entering his mouth and circling around his.

“can’t get ‘nough of you” simon grumbles. he keeps kissing and kissing as he grinds his hips in slow, deep circles. “my wife is jus’ so fuckin’ needy, eh?” the subtle cockiness in his tone had your pussy clenching. he grins at that and pistons his hips, fast and hard and unrelenting.

“ah! ah! ah! aaah!” you squealed and scratched down his back. you’ve been on edge for however long. time was nonexistent and this was torture. you needed that final nudge. a certain thing that helped the rollercoaster of euphoria finally crash down from the tip of the hill. “n-need.. cum. need.. n-need to cu-um!” god, you probably sounded so pathetic.

simon grunts every time he delivers hard thrusts that would’ve made your entire body slide up the seat if it weren’t for his arms wrapped around you. your thighs twitched non-stop. your toes curled and repeatedly thumped against the window. clinging onto your husband, your moans start getting more high pitched and drawn out as you got closer and closer, but simon knew what you needed. he always knew what you need. he pulls back enough to direct his attention to your neglected clit, so puffy and swollen and glistening in your slick from having no attention paid to it. simon slows his hips again and grinds to a slow halt once more. his cock throbs as your walls twitched and tightened around him, eagerly sucking him deeper.

“you poor, poor girl,” he tuts, splaying a large hand over your tummy and humming pleased as he feels the bulge of his cock nestled deep inside. “jus’ need my thumb, eh?” with the first swipe, your nails dug deeper into his skin and your thighs nearly shut. and from that reaction, simon knew it was time to finally let his beautiful wife cum.

and for the last time, his hips smack against yours at a fast speed, pounding and fucking as if tonight was the end of the world and you two had to say goodbye to each other. when his thumb lays against your clit, rubbing circles at the same rhythm of his quick hips, the dam finally broke. your body forcibly arched and your head slides between the seat and the backseat window. simon forces your thighs to keep spread open and grunts into your throat as your pussy contracts around his cock. all of your moans kept spilling out - you couldn’t stop them even if you tried. it was like electricity was coursing through your body. the wave of euphoria crashed at an alarming speed and you’re sure you’re screaming, but it sounds like you’re underwater. simon was stunned, in all honesty, at how hard you came. and you just won’t stop.

“agh!” he grunts and pulls his thumb away from your overly sensitive clit. he instead wraps his arms back around your trembling body and does three good, hard thrusts before the knot tightened and tightened and he spills inside of you. he grinds deep and slow, making sure none is wasted and is settled thickly inside your womb.

heavy breathing and weak moans echo in the car. the heavy rain slowed to a gentle drizzle. your thighs couldn’t stop twitching. simon lowers his head and kisses your pulse point so very gently, humming pleased when you sign contently. he kisses the side of your face tenderly, tracing a line from your pulse, up to your soft jaw, and then your plushy cheek. your breathing finally slowed and you lift your head to look up at simon. a bead of sweat slid down his temple and you had half a mind to lick it away. the two of you look into each other’s eyes and there wasn’t a single thing that could make you look away. and there wasn’t a single thing that could ruin this moment. simon had to swallow down the lump in his throat.

“d’you realize jus’ how much i love you?” he asks you quietly, head tilting to brush his strong nose against yours. “i would go to the ends of the earth f’you.”

at this whisper of a confession, you sniffle and let out a watery laugh, a lonesome tear sliding down your cheek that is quickly wiped away by his thumb. he leans down and hovers his lips over yours. you take the last step and curl your fingers into his hair to pull him down. when your lips touched, it felt like everything disappeared at that moment. the two of kissed and kissed until you needed air. and even though, you would take gulps of air and find his lips again. his cock was still snug deep inside. even soft, he still had some length and weight to him. but you loved this. it made you feel more connected to each other. the rain had stopped completely now. you both broke your kiss, a thin string of saliva connecting. simon lightly thumbs at your lip to wipe it away.

“now, lets get you home.”

[a-court-of-fics-and-errors]

Keep Moving Forwards, Part 1

Azriel x Reader Fic

Summary: After finally deciding to leave your abusive and manipulative mate for good, you find unexpected companionship with Azriel, the Shadowsinger of the Night Court. As you navigate the aftermath of your traumatic relationship, you struggle to understand where the mating bond went wrong and contemplate your path forward, vowing never to return to the past.

Find other parts here: Master List

To follow this fic, follow that "Keep Moving Forwards Fic"

Content Warning: This story contains depictions of extreme emotional manipulation and abuse, mentions of physical abuse, loss of a child, and general trauma.

Word Count: 4.3k

Author's Note: This is the first part of what I anticipate will be a multi-part series. Unlike my previous works, this fanfiction delves deeper than just fluff, exploring complex emotional landscapes. As I navigate this new writing journey, I kindly ask for gentle feedback. The topics addressed are profoundly impactful, touching many lives with diverse experiences. Please be gentle with yourselves and others. Healing is a journey, and everyone processes it differently. Be kind to yourself. Take what resonates, and leave what doesn’t.

Please continue reading being aware of the above content warnings, ensuring you are in a healthy headspace. Give yourself time to process and be gentle with yourself.

Keep Moving Forwards, Part 1

There would be no going back. You had promised yourself that. As you stepped out of the cabin door, you vowed not to look back, not to turn around, not to wish for what was. You would move forward, one foot in front of the other, into the world. Yet, as you crested the first hill, your heart clenched, and tears welled in your eyes, a sudden and overwhelming loneliness gripping you. You shook your head, dismissing the thought. What could possibly bring you back to that place? A place where everything hurt constantly, and the only safe refuge was sleep—where even then, he invaded your subconscious.

You wouldn’t go back. Not this time. Not like the last time.

Pushing the tears down, you took another step forward. The companionship of the night, lit by the full moon, felt both lonely and liberating. You adjusted your pack and pulled your oversized, worn leather jacket tighter around your torso as you silently crept through the forest.

It wouldn’t be morning for a few more hours, and if you kept moving, you would cross the river while it was still dark. You had a plan and a general idea of where you were heading, but at the time you made this plan, your only thought was to get as far away as possible. To put as much distance as you could between yourself and the old, rotten cabin that had been your home for the past fifty-three years.

The moonlight made the trees seem farther apart, and you felt exposed. Glancing over your shoulder, despite the hill and the fallen trees and boulders between you and the cabin, you imagined you could still see smoke rising from the chimney. You quickened your pace.

You hoisted yourself over a fallen log, the moss soft and forgiving under your fingertips. The new spring air was beginning to overtake the cold of winter, and the damp scent of rain filled your nose. You had loved spring—or at least you used to, fifty-three years ago. Now, you couldn't remember what you loved or who you would be when you finally made it away. But you would make it away. You would not go back. Not for anything. No matter how much he begged, no matter how much he cried, no matter how much you ached to return.

Hours passed as you continued your trudge through the woods, your legs growing more tired with each step as you carefully descended the mountain. You lost your footing twice, but quickly regained your balance, careful not to make a sound. You wouldn’t stop moving, not until you had crossed the river.

As the night sky shifted from deep blue to purple, and the first light of dawn began to creep over the horizon, you heard the rushing of the river and quickened your pace.

When you reached the clear waters of the Highlawn River, you stopped, tossing your pack onto the pebbled shore, and leaned down to drink from the cold, clean water. You dipped your hands in greedily, cupping them to your lips, when you caught sight of your reflection glaring back at you. As you sipped, your eyes traced the cut on your cheekbone. What had once been a wound was now only a trace of dried blood, just like the gash on your forehead. You splashed water onto your face, scrubbing at the blood caked on your skin. You scrubbed the area raw and red, as if washing it away would also erase the memory of what caused the bleeding.

Kneeling there, your face burning slightly from the cold water, you took a deep breath and let yourself feel alive.

You pulled your jacket back over your shoulders, catching his scent, which made you recoil, your heart racing and your stomach dropping. But you reminded yourself you were alone. He was not with you. He would never be with you again. You grabbed your pack and hauled it back onto your shoulder, then turned and wandered down the shore of the river, searching for the shallow, rocky crossing. When you reached it, you carefully tiptoed across, taking care not to slip into the nearly freezing water.

Once on the other side, you turned and looked back up the mountain you had just descended, squinting to see the cabin's roof that sometimes poked out when the leaves were down. You couldn’t find it. Not that you wanted to, but you just couldn’t help yourself.

He would be getting up soon. He would find your note. Would he run from the house calling your name? Would he cry? Would he rage, swearing what he would do when he found you? Would he hunt you down, sending birds flying from trees and animals racing for their burrows? Or would he stand there in silence, reading the note, his green eyes calm and collected, before starting the kettle for his tea?

You hoped you would never find out. You turned again and walked farther into the deeper woods. You would not come back. You would live. You would live your life. You would survive this, just as you had survived the last fifty-three years.

As the early morning turned warmer and the sun rose higher, heating your hair and sending warmth radiating down your body, you removed your jacket, tying it around your waist. You continued wandering through the deeper woods, determined to reach the tavern, a day's walk away. Despite your legs burning and aching for rest, you kept moving forward. You would always keep moving forward.

The trees of the Night Court, now blooming with spring flowers, cast shadows on the forest floor. The sun's warmth on your face was both comforting and energizing. Morning shifted to afternoon, and afternoon into evening, and by the time you saw the tavern lights, you were nearly crawling with exhaustion. A renewed sense of energy hit you, and you made your way across the field, nearly running as you pushed open the creaky wooden door.

You peered around the lively room, searching for an open table. The crowd chattered animatedly, downing beers and spirits, guffawing with friends. You hadn't been around this many people in a very long time. Almost giddy with excitement, you chose a table near the back of the tavern. Settling into the booth, a waitress promptly placed a cold glass of water on the table, which you downed before she could introduce herself. You ordered a plate of chicken and potatoes and allowed yourself a moment to breathe. Leaning back in your chair, you felt your spine relax and the ache in your feet begin to subside.

When your dinner arrived, you scarfed it down as quickly as you had the water, the grease of the meat making your lips shine. You wiped your face with your sleeve, not caring if you looked like an animal. When you inquired about a room, the waitress informed you there was one left, but it was connected to another room already rented. You considered sleeping in the woods but knew you wouldn’t rest well and still had miles to travel. So, you pulled a satchel of coins from your bag, paid for the room, and gave the waitress a few extra coins, asking her to deny anyone who might come in asking about you.

When you made your way up the creaking steps, the lights in the other rooms had already been turned out for the night as the other travelers rested their weary bones. You found yourself at the end of the hall, the light under your door still lit. As you unlocked it, you were quickly taken aback by the sight of a man sitting in a chair across from you. His feet were propped up on an end table, and he leaned back comfortably in an oversized armchair, a book in one hand while the other hand lazily traced his lips. He looked up quickly, closing his book. He wore only a pair of black linen pants, his tanned skin covered in various whirling tattoos, and his black hair tousled as though he had been running his hands through it repeatedly.

“Sorry, I think you have the wrong room,” he said, quickly putting his feet back on the ground.

You paused, taking a tentative step back. “Um, no, actually, I rented this room. The owner said that someone else was staying in the adjoining one, but I can go to that one if you’ve taken this one.”

The man rose to his feet, and you suddenly noticed the large wings tucked behind him. He was much larger than he had looked when curled into that chair. “No, please,” he said, gesturing to the room and moving toward the adjoining door. “I was just using this as a sitting room.” He picked up his book, his bare feet padding across the floor. Opening the adjoining door, he ducked his head, turned back to you, wished you a goodnight, and quietly shut the door.

You didn’t move until the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears subsided. You hadn’t spoken to a man in decades, and the first one you see is half-dressed, and you walk in unannounced. Shaking your head, you muttered to yourself before walking in and shutting the door behind you, pressing your back against the wood, resting your head on it, and closing your eyes. You had worked so hard all day to keep the bond shut on your end, willing it closed while he pounded on the other side, screaming to be let in. You had given yourself a headache doing so.

You threw your pack down on the floor, pulling off your sweat-drenched shirt and pants from the hike and tossing them over the chair the man had been lounging in before flopping down onto the bed, your head pounding.

________________________________________________________

The sun beamed down onto your face as you squinted, eyes still shut as you rolled over in bed, groaning softly. You inhaled deeply, taking in the smell of the burning fire, the heavy wetness of the April woods, and the scent of spruce and sage. Your eyes opened, and you found yourself staring at the log wall, the window above it slightly open with sheer linen curtains fluttering in the wind. The quilt you had spent months making was balled at your feet, kicked away in the night as the pre-summer air seeped in through the open window. Your hair was plastered to the sides of your face with sweat.

You sat up, your cotton nightgown sticking to your torso, the lace scratching lightly at your skin as you rubbed your neck and eyes. The cabin air was slightly damp; it must have rained last night. Planting your feet on the hard wood floor, you looked across the room to see a small wooden cradle. Walking towards it, you tied your hair up with a ribbon from the window sill and leaned in to see your tiny babe, still sound asleep. You smiled down at them, brushing your fingers over their soft cheek as they softly gurgled. They were perfect, angelic, with your nose and lips, their tiny hands curled into loose fists beside their head as they slept on their back. Even in just their cloth diaper, the heat of the morning had made their cheeks red and their skin slightly damp as you continued to run soft lines down their face. Perfection. They were perfection.

The morning dove cooed its melody as the world around you seemed perfectly soft and hazy, as though all the colors were muted and edges somehow rounder. Then you heard it, the soft crying from the main room of the cabin. The babe stirred slightly but remained asleep as you looked through the open door to the living room. You glanced back at your perfect babe, still sound asleep, and then lightly stepped through the bedroom, trying to peek around the corner of the door without making the floorboards creak.

You stopped at the threshold, placing one hand delicately on the frame as you peered out. He was sitting there, on the couch he had carved for your 120th birthday, the blanket your mother gave you draped over the back. The window next to the front door was shattered in a moment of blind rage many months ago that he still hadn’t fixed.

He sat there, his head in his hands, sobbing quietly. The wet inhales and exhales formed a rock in your throat as you stood there, still as a deer. His head jerked up, and he turned to look over the back of the couch at you. His eyes were red, bloodshot, and he sniffled back another sob.

“Why would you do this?” he asked, his voice a breathless sob. “Why would you leave me?”

You said nothing, eyes wide in shock, seemingly frozen in place. The only movement in you was your heart, beating faster and faster. You worried he could hear it. Your hands and feet went numb, and you felt every twitch in your body as you tried to keep still. Your mouth parted slightly to speak, but before you could get a word out, he was standing, walking over to you, the heavy sound of his footsteps echoing in your head, pounding through the cabin until he stood in front of you. You took a step back, hands flying upwards to block the doorway.

He wrapped his arms around you, his large frame towering over yours as he sobbed into your neck. “We can fix this, baby,” he cooed into your ear, still sobbing. His height lifted you from the ground, rising to stand on your tiptoes as he continued to plead. “Just come home, baby. Come home. We can make this right.” Your arms slackened at your sides as he held you up. You swallowed the lump in your throat, unsure if you were going to scream or vomit as everything inside you burned. “Just come home,” he whispered again into your ear, his hot, wet breath streaming down your back as his tears glued your hair to your face. He pulled back to look at you, releasing you back to the floor. His green eyes peered into yours, searching for a response—the response he wanted. He leaned down to kiss you, and in a moment of bravery, you stepped back. He reached for your arm to pull you back, and you took another step backward, your hands behind you.

“Baby,” he managed to get out, but the sound of his voice, broken by sobs, no longer echoed through your mind. Instead, it was a warning. He took a step toward you, reaching out. He grabbed your wrist, which you tugged free. He took another step, reaching for you.

“No!” you shouted as he grabbed for you again. Your voice barely above a whisper, “I won’t come back.”

He stopped, his hand still extended toward you as his face twisted in anger. His mouth curved into a catlike smile, though his eyes darkened. “Where are you going to go, baby?”

You swallowed down the rock in your throat, your vision blurring as tears clouded your eyes. “I-I-” you stuttered.

He smiled at you again. “Where would you go?”

You took another tentative step back, your hands brushing the cradle, which rocked softly. Your babe cooed lightly, looking up at you with bright, brown eyes.

He peered over your shoulder at the babe in the cradle. “You want a baby? I can give you a baby,” he promised. “You just need to come home.”

You looked at him, your mouth hanging open, searching for words to shut him up. Words that would let you win. He reached for you again. “Where will you go where I can’t find you?”

You turned, grabbing the babe from the cradle, picking up their blanket with them. In the frantic motion, the babe let out a wail, but it didn’t stop you. You pushed past him, dashing through the living room, past the broken window, and down the steps. Your feet barely registered as you pounded through the front grass and headed into the woods, your babe pressed to your shoulder, crying out. As you hit the treeline, you turned to see him standing on the porch, his arms crossed, the catlike smile still inching across his face.

You tore through the woods, careful to hold your babe's head to your neck, trying not to trip over roots and branches, panting out wild breaths as the woods crashed around you.

As your babe let out another piercing wail, you found a hollowed out log that you crouched down in, trying to shush the screams. You rocked, hushed and pressed soft kisses into their temple as your heart continued to beat wildly in your ears. From behind you, you could hear branches and twigs snapping as he made his way towards you. Where would you run? Where could you go? Where can you go he wouldn’t find you? As your mind races you suddenly realize the babe has gone quiet and your arms are light, you look down and in your arms you hold an empty white blanket. A sob escapes you as you search around frantically for your babe, a wail crosses your lips as the sounds of the branches get louder and louder, you fall to the ground screaming as the sounds of him calling your name mixed with your pounding heart flood your head. It’s all gone. Everything is gone. 

________________________________________________________

“Hey! Hey!”

Your eyes shoot open, and the room around you is pitch black. You hurl in a heavy breath, wheezing out a cough, sweat pouring down your face and back as you scream, but no sound comes out. As your eyes adjust to the darkness, you see moonlight streaming in from the window, tears blurring your vision, and the silhouette of someone yelling at you, their hands pressed onto your shoulders.

You rip their hands off, kicking back to ball up in the corner of the bed, pressed into the wall, ragged breaths tasting of iron in your lungs. You pull your legs into your chest, eyes wide and frantic. The figure in front of you is the male from earlier, sitting on his knees, his wings tucked behind him and his hands up, showing he means no harm.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, “It’s okay.” But it doesn’t feel okay. Everything is on fire.

You shake your head, snot running down your face, your lips quivering as you try to form words that won’t come.

He shushes you quietly, lowering himself from the bed onto the floor. He slides closer, reaching out a hand, his hazel eyes filled with concern. You look down at his hands, scarred and malformed. You try to let out another breath, but it gets caught in your throat as you cough. His extended hand covers your foot, and you continue to fight down sobs and screams. He hushes you again, “You’re safe. You’re here. You’re right here.” He squeezes your foot lightly, the pressure somehow grounding you. Your screams fade, but the tears continue to stream down your face as you cry silently. He runs his thumb up and down the top of your foot, his eyes never leaving you. After a minute, he reaches out his other hand, and you reach back. His hand engulfs yours, squeezing gently, kneeling beside your bed as if in prayer. “It’s okay.”

As if the reminder shatters something inside you, your tears fall heavy and full as your body relaxes. “Everything is,” you start, “it’s so loud.”

He lifts himself from the floor, and you curl away again, pulling your hand back. Realizing your response, he slowly lowers himself back to his knees, reaching out again. You take his hand, and he presses it between his palms so it disappears completely.

“There are clouds rolling in. I can smell the rain,” he says, barely above a whisper.

Between sharp intakes, you can smell it too. A storm is coming.

One hand stays with yours as he runs his other over the blanket. “This blanket,” he says, pressing your hand to it, “is scratchy and wool, too hot for this season.”

You nod slightly, unsure of what he’s doing. He glances at the clock. “It’s a little past two in the morning.” He looks back at you, your hand pressed into the bed, his hand over yours. 

“Can I stand?” he asks, still whispering.

You nod, unable to speak. Slowly, he rises from the floor, which creaks beneath him. His movements are deliberate, raising both hands as he gets to his feet. “Can I sit down?” he asks, gesturing to the bed.

You nod, and he turns to sit next to you, his back against the wooden wall. He holds out his scarred hand again, and to take it, you have to scoot away from the wall. He takes your hand and runs his thumb up and down the back, his face now calmer. “You’re okay,” he reminds you.

Finally able to breathe more steadily, you wipe your eyes with your free hand, never letting go of his. He never loosens his grip.

“I’m-” you start, your throat raw, “I’m so sorry.”

He smiles lightly at you. “It’s okay. I was already awake.”

You look around the room, everything as you left it when you went to sleep, but the bed is a mess. Pillows have been ripped, and the sheets are strewn about as though a tornado had passed through.

You glance back at him and suddenly become aware that you’re only wearing your underwear. You rush to pull the blankets up around yourself, the wool feeling immediately too warm. The male reaches for the armchair and hands you your shirt, which you gratefully pull over your head, pushing the blanket off of you.

He looks at you again, his hazel eyes scanning your incredibly red, puffy face. “Has this happened before?” he finally asks.

You swallow and nod, licking your cracked lips. In truth, it had happened many times before, whenever you had run. In sleep, when the bond opened up, he wormed his way back into your mind and tormented you. You had replayed this scene so many times: you and the babe you wished you had, sprinting through the woods to get away, only to find the babe missing. Normally, he made it all the way to you and brought you back to the cabin, finding your scent and coming for you. But not this time.

You wipe another rogue tear from your eye, pushing the snot from your face where it pooled above your lips. You sniffle as he takes your hand again, rubbing soothing circles into the back.

“I really am sorry,” you say, the words coming out broken.

He just shakes his head. “Like I said, I was already awake.” Then he smiles slightly at you. “Are you okay?” he asks.

You nod, trying desperately to clean your face.

“I’m going to grab you a wash rag, okay?” he offers.

You shake your head. “That’s okay. You can go back to bed. I’m alright.”

He gives you a tight-lipped smile. “I’ve heard less intense screaming on the battlefield.” You look down, shameful. “Let me at least get you a washcloth.” With that, he stands slowly and makes his way to the washbasin, running a rag through the water and bringing it back to you. You look up at him, your eyelashes clumping together from the tears as he props your chin up and runs the cloth delicately over your cheeks and eyes, giving you a soft smile. When he’s finished, and the cool water has soothed the burning on your skin, he pushes your hair back behind your ear.

He hands you the cloth as he takes his place next to you on the bed again. You run the cloth over your face and chest as he watches.

Your head feels heavy, your body like you’ve run miles. Everything feels sore. You let out a sigh, wiggling your nose slightly as it finally clears.

“I am genuinely sorry,” you say, looking down at the bed, hands in your lap.

“And I genuinely don’t want you to worry about it,” he responds, chuckling slightly. “It sounds like whatever’s going on in your head is much worse than losing a few hours of sleep, if I was sleeping at all.”

You chuckle slightly as well, then look up at him. His eyes meet yours. It’s so strange. This whole interaction is very strange.

“Thank you,” you finally say.

He smiles at you, a genuine smile, laced with a tinge of pity.

“I think I’m okay now.”

He nods, his smile fading slightly. “Are you going back to sleep?” he asks.

You nod, even though you’re sure you’ll spend the rest of the night with your eyes wide open, too afraid to let your guard down again.

He slowly stands, reaching out to take the wash rag, which he brings back to the basin to wring out. He turns, looking at you again, and opens his mouth as if to say something but stops himself. He makes his way to the door of the adjoining room, still flung open from when he crashed through earlier.

“If it’s alright with you, I’m just going to keep this cracked,” he says, one hand on the door.

You nod.

“Just in case you need anything,” he says again, “not that you do, but,” he pauses and smiles, “for my sake.”

You smile, the dried tears on your cheeks making your skin feel tight, and chuckle slightly, “Sure.”

With that, he closes the door to a crack. You hear him through the wall as he crosses his own room, the rustling of blankets being pulled back and the creak of the bed as he lies down. You wait until it goes quiet before pulling the sheets back up, resting your head on the last pillow that isn’t shredded, and stare at the window, waiting for the sun to come up.

[antidesire]

im willing to sacrifice all my limbs for you write leon putting reader in a mating press

woahhh woah ethan winters, let’s keep all our limbs in tact

disclaimer.. afab!reader x leon s. kennedy. 18+ only! p in v, mating press, dirty talk, praise, biting, pet names, size kink implied, creampie, don't be like them, use protection and practice safe sex. feel like my writing got sloppy at the end, i apologise.

reblogs and feedback are appreciated. requests are open

“mating press?” you heard your boyfriend repeat, acting oblivious. blood quickly flowed straight to your cheeks, making them burn red,

“yes, it’s like a position, in bed, y’know..” you tried to explain, rather coyly.

leon laughed, which only caused you further embarrassment, your arms crossing over your chest and lips pressed together firmly, “it’s not funny.”

“it’s not, i just think it’s cute you still get all shy. baby, if you wanted me to turn you into a damn pretzel or wanted me crawling around on my knees in circles, i’d do it for you.” he cooed, mockingly as he cupped your cheeks.

“ugh, shut up, you’re such an asshole.” you groaned, jabbing his chest and swatting away his arms, suppressing the laughter bubbling in your throat.

you both had managed to make and maintain trust and comfort with exploring and talking about your sexual life, it made things much more exciting- not that it was ever dull, to begin with, but something about this all had made you become much closer, feeling like you both knew each other more than your own selves.

which is how you both found yourselves on the bed, tangled limbs and tongues, your fingers clawing at his clothing until they found grip on his belt, “m-mh, get off.” you huffed, almost scolding the leather holding his pants up, hearing leon chuckle against your ear amidst open mouth, wet kisses he was adorning your neck with, teeth grazing along your skin.

he was making it hard for you to rid him of his clothes- which you found quite unfair considering you had barely blinked and you were left in nothing but your jewelry, slick bastard.

his hips were grinding down on you, rough denim pressing against your bare cunt which had your body reeling upwards against him, “leon, help me out here.” you whine pathetically as you tugged his belt from his loop holes, throwing it aside somewhere amongst your pile of clothes.

he grumbled something- probably grumpy he had to turn his attention away from you, pushing himself up he raised his arms to tug his shirt over his head, your eyes wasting no time darting to the expanse of his bare chest, next came off the rest of his clothes in a haste.

“god, you’re so handsome.” you spoke your thoughts aloud, fingertips reaching out to rub along his stomach, over the bumps of his physic that all his years of training rewarded him with.

if you weren’t so distracted with your own advances you would’ve noticed the warmth that reached his cheeks, and his throat bobbing.

“I want you so bad.” your fingers curled into the flesh of his hip, legs parting until they clasped around his back, pushing against him with all intents to have him as close as possible, to entice him.

he could’ve sworn he felt all the blood rush straight down to his cock, evident by the way it twitched and the way his pearly pre cum sat pretty at the tip, “you’re gonna drive me insane.” he sighed out.

you would’ve laughed but the way the head of his length was rubbing past your puffy warmth and nudging your clit made your head feel fuzzy. your fingertips trailed from his chest up until they reached his shoulders, squeezing onto them in an attempt to retain some composure.

“please..” you breathed out quietly, nails dragging down his back just to scratch back upwards, feeling the goosebumps form on his skin.

to leon, there was nothing prettier than your sweet pleas, the way your features softened but your body lurched towards him and your fingers gripped any inch of his body they could get ahold of.

“i know baby.” he hummed, lips pushing against yours, you leaned up a little, eager to kiss him back with just as much passion, the taste of him your favourite thing in the world.

leon's arms ducked under your legs, lifting them upwards a little before his hips pressed flush against the lower back of your thighs, sheathing his cock inside you easily thanks to how soaking wet you were, “oh, leon..” you mewled, hand tangling in the long lock of his hair, squeezing his body into you.

“so warm.” leon squeezed onto the pillow beside your head as he began rocking his hips, back and forth, steadily at first, feeling your tummy flutter, that deliciously stretching feeling of adjusting to his size, how your body has gotten used to him, shaped exactly to him, for him.

“feel good, hmm sweetheart?” he pushed himself up a little, propelling your legs until they folded on each other, squished to your chest before lifting your calves to rest over his shoulders, “comfortable?” a smile tugged at the corners of his lips which had your heart fluttering.

“mhm, comfortable.” you squeezed his arm reassuringly before glancing down, looking between where the both of you were connected, the way you could see the bulge of him pressed against your tummy, drifting your hand down to push against it, “keep going.” you encouraged him, fluttering your eyelashes up at him.

leon’s eyebrows were furrowed and his tongue dashed out to lick over his lips, watching you beneath him like this was making his cock twitch inside you and it took every ounce of his sanity to not lose it all. he eased his hips back before stuffing inside you once again, leaning down to push his weight against you, the back of your thighs against his chest as your feet bumped in the air with every bounce, the bed frame creaking in tandem.

the tight, confined feeling of his weight pushing against you felt delightful, your body filled with leon, your mind, thoughts and heart swelling with him. you couldn’t move the lower half of your body an inch, not even a squirm, as close as he already was your arms flew out to crush him further into you, hugging him as close as possible, feeling his breath on your cheek- your own breath turned into small heaves, the air feeling like it was knocked out of your chest as he fucked you into the mattress, pussy squelching around him.

“i’m not going anywhere baby, this pussy is all mine to use, you’re all mine.” he gushed out, his arm reaching past your head until it settled on the headboard, tight-fisted grip making the wood creak and with every thrust it obscenely crashed into the wall.

“this what you wanted sweetheart? you’re so fucking obsessed with me, just can’t get enough..” he grunted, every pump of his hips getting more and more erratic and you could barely even form a sentence in your own head let alone babble coherent words.

“too much? i can slow down?” he teases, drawing out his words, chuckling when your eyes flew open in a panic,

“no, n-no—“ you gasped when he pushed flush against you, cock pressed so deeply inside of you, a strained squeal sounding from your throat, “oh my god, leon.” you cried out, “i love it s’much.”

that’s all he needed to hear, hips continuously slamming into yours, not even giving you time to catch your breath, your body bounces shallowly beneath him, clutching on to his arm before you turned your head to bite down on his wrist, hearing him hiss through his teeth.

“fuck!” he groaned, “i can feel you sucking me back in every time i’m not deep in your guts.” he chuckled out in bliss, finding the feeling out of this world, something he’ll never get enough of.

teeth marks were imprinted on his wrist when you let up, salvia glistening on your lips, eyes squeezed shut as you concentrated on that bubbling feeling at the pit of your stomach, “m’ so- oh!” you squealed when he changed the angle of his hips, somehow drilling his cock even deeper inside you, “leon!” you cried, legs over his shoulders spasming and your soppy, abused pussy was clenching around him as you climaxed, arousal coating his length, leon not letting up in his relentless pace, knowing you could take it.

he got whinier, higher pitched as he got even closer and closer to release, his pleasured sounds were oh so heavenly to you, especially in the state you were in, even though your ears were ringing and oversensitivity was kicking in, he was the most gorgeous precense.

his thrusts became sloppy, messy, and he buried his head against your neck, taking the opportunity to weakly reach up to his head, tangling your fingers through his hair and dragging your nails along his scalp, “cum baby, i want it so badly, please.” you pressed gentle kisses to his cheek.

“baby, you feel.. so, so good.” he muffled against your neck, feeling the way his hips stuttered before his hot release spurted out, filling you up. breathlessly gasping out at the feeling, you let him push into you over and over again to ride out his high, your nails still dancing along his scalp, occasional tug of his hair.

“mmh..” he panted out, eyes fluttering back open as he fell on top of you, wincing at the way your muscles ached, but you struggled to tell him to move yet, he was like a tired puppy all of a sudden, nose nuzzled into your neck and soft warm breaths fluttering along your skin, his arms maneuvered to around your waist in a strong hug.

“baby, as much as i love you so much, can we do this with my legs, not in the air.” you heard him muffle a laugh against you before pushing himself up, letting your legs relax back down on the bed.

“if i clean you up can we cuddle and take a nap?” he stretched his arms upwards before rolling his shoulders back.

“how could i ever say no to you?” you giggled, leaning up on your elbows and pressing kisses to his face.

“i don’t know, guess i’m just the best boyfriend ever- not to brag or anything.” he shrugged his shoulders, followed by a dumb wink.

[littlelovelyra]

The Change.

Astarion x F!Tav

Inspiration: What if Cazador got hold of Tav (Astarion's lover) first?

"My, my, it seems my most favoured spawn has been busy…"

Roughly 4,450 words. (I know its long, I couldn't stop)

Triggers: Cazador, abuse (as minimal as possible only there for the plot to do with the jerk), non consensual bite, blood, kidnapping, adult language, death, Fluff, angst(?), intimacy (near the end), PiV, CONSENSUAL blood drinking, finger stuff. If I have missed anything let me know.

18+ Minors DNI - Mild disclaimer I am not a great writer, but great at day dreaming, so I hope it all makes sense and you can enjoy my current day dream:

Summary:

You have leased the top floor of the Elfsong Tavern, and it is the first night of your stay. Retiring to your bed for the evening after a long day of chasing leads to find the murderer causing chaos around Baldur’s Gate, you and your companions are woken up during the night surrounded by Cazador’s Spawns attempting to retrieve Astarion. In that moment, you decide to do everything in your power to keep him safe, even if it means sacrificing yourself to buy him time. What comes next is something you could have never foreseen.

Tav:

“Just our luck, right? All we wanted was a place to stay, and lo and behold, we find the single inn that has had a murder take place in it. And, of course, we start investigating it straight away," Astarion says, practically steaming with annoyance as he helps you remove your boots. You watch him attentively. You love the way his lip curls and his nose scrunches when he is particularly annoyed at something. He looks up at you through his lashes, his crimson eyes looking confused as to why he’s caught you staring at him with a very goofy smile plastered upon your face.

"What?" he says, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing, I just think you’re adorable when you get annoyed," you say as you lean down and kiss his forehead softly.

"Adorable? Adorable?? Excuse me, but I am exactly the kind of person your parents warn you about when they tell you not to explore at nighttime. Thank you very much." His expression is mischievous and playful as he rises, pinning you to the bed.

"Can the two of you PLEASE just behave for ONE night?? You’ll have your private quarters from tomorrow, so behave for the sake of all of us. Please," Gale says exasperated, pinching the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb.

You and Astarion share a knowing look and burst into laughter as he loosens his grip on you. Your companions have graciously offered you the private room after the cleanup of the murder scene and changing of bedsheets takes place. They deserve some respite after enduring the sounds from your tent throughout this journey. Despite taking a break from your intimate explorations, you and Astarion find yourselves acting like infatuated teenagers, constantly joking and teasing each other. It must be exhausting for others to be around your lighthearted antics all the time.

Yenna, the child you found on your journey, has a remarkable talent for creating various soups, and you are delighted to see that she has taken the initiative to prepare dinner for you and your companions tonight. After savouring the soup and engaging in lighthearted banter, everyone retires to their assigned beds. Surprisingly, Astarion decides to join you in the small bed, refusing to sleep separately even for just one evening. After making sure the others had fallen asleep you silently offer him your neck for his nightly feed before bed.

It doesn’t take long for sleep to find you, nor does it take long for your rest to be interrupted.

“Get the hells away from me!” Astarion’s voice is angry but panicked. You shoot upright and immediately see two other vampire spawns circling him. One female and one male.

“Peace brother, we are here to take you home.” The female speaks calmly

The male continues; “The Master needs all seven of us for the ceremony. Come with us and be reborn. We’ll live again.”

“Oh, I’m well aware of what the Master needs. But don’t we deserve better? After all these centuries of torment, I know what you all want, more than power, more than to walk in the sun. You want to see him dead. The right of profane ascension will be mine and he won’t see a scrap of its glory. I am going to complete the ritual as the ascendant and then I AM GOING TO KILL HIM. This is your chance, stand with me, name me your new master, we will get our revenge and you will all live again.” Astarion is confident, you know he is lying to them, you steal a glance his way with hurt in your eyes. Does he wish to be the ascendant this much?

Before you can stop yourself you turn to your lover and plead “Have you no heart Astarion? You’re asking them to die for you in this ritual”

“Don’t look at me like that, with the sweet little disappointed ‘I’m not getting cuddly Astarion’ pout. I can’t take it, I can’t be what you want to see in me.” His eyes lock with yours and you see a glimpse of it. Fear. The fear of never being safe and the desperation that this is his only chance of never having to be afraid again.

“You’re lying! Quick grab him!” The female one yells as two other spawns blink into the room joining them.

The rest of your camp is now awake and begins to spring into action. It’s not long before the first drop of blood is spilled, as Karlach lunges toward one of the spawn, slicing an opening clear across their chest, they topple back and disappear before the killing blow lands. You break into a sprint to the other side of the room as poor Yenna is being picked up by one of them. Luckily Gale shoots a firebolt cantrip their way and they release their hold on the child.

Suddenly out of the corner of your eye, you see the two spawn from earlier still circling Astarion and your world slows down. The male leaps forward with his hand outstretched, you know it’s to take Astarion and he knows it too. His eyes lock with yours practically seeping with fear and you scream an incantation of misty step placing yourself between them just in time, knocking Astarion back. The hand grabs you and you are transported in a cloud of red ash out of the Elfsong Tavern and land in a dark, cold cell.

Gazing at the floor you see a pair of expensive loafers appear in front of you, slowly you raise your head. Standing before you is what seems to be an elf at first glance well dressed with blood-red eyes, pale skin and long black hair slicked back out of his face. Your gaze darts around the room as you see the spawns all kneeling around him.

“Cazador.” You spit out the word, your face repulsed as if the name itself tasted vile on your tongue.

He leans down and takes your chin in his hand, moving your face towards the left, exposing your neck and the two puncture wounds that are still fresh from the evenings’ feedings.

"My, my, it seems my most favoured spawn has been busy…" He says amusement dancing in his eyes. “My spawn may not have brought him back but you… I have big plans for you. You pretty little thing.”

___________

Astarion:

You look across the room, searching for her. You know you are about to be taken, so you need to have one last look at her. You find her, and your eyes lock together. She knows it too; you can see it all over her face. Then the unthinkable happens.

You hear her scream the incantation. You see her appear in front of you as she knocks you back. Before you could blink, before you could get up, she was gone. They’ve taken her. And your world comes crashing down.

“TAV! NO. NO. No no no no no. This is NOT happening.” You are frantic, you cannot control the fear that has taken over. Your body shakes your breathing becomes shallow, your mouth dry. “We need to go. NOW. We need to get her.” Your companions are all standing there in shock as they watch you crumble. Karlach walks up to you gripping your shoulders and gives you a few shakes.

“Astarion, calm down. This is not going to help get her back. You need to breathe," Karlach pulls you in, squeezing you until you listen to her words. She's right, Tav needs you to be strong. She needs you to collect yourself. You need a plan, but it needs to be a good plan. You cannot afford to make one wrong step.

“We need to make a plan. I don’t know where he will be holding her, get me some paper, ink and a quill. I will draw out the layout of the palace and we will discuss options. Shadowheart, make sure we are stocked on healing potions and count the Revivify scrolls. Gale you need to learn the daylight spell, it is imperative, I know Shadowheart knows this spell but we cannot afford for only one person to know this. Karlach, gather the soul coins. We have to utilise everything we have.” You try to sound confident but the quiver in your voice betrays you. Everyone glances around briefly before attending to their allocated tasks.

I am coming for you, little love. Be strong for me just for tonight, I will not let him have you. You make a silent promise to her, to yourself.

__________

Tav:

“Fuck you.” Your words are laced with venom as you spit on his shoes. His hand comes soaring down across your other cheek and a familiar metallic taste settles in your mouth.

“Did Astarion not teach you what happens to those who do not obey me? Did he not tell you that mercy is not a word that lives in my vocabulary?” He lifts you by your neck and you feel your feet dangle off the floor.

Between your gasps for air, your voice is cold. “Get his name… out… of your… dirty… fucking mouth.” You spit what’s left of the blood and saliva in your mouth right on his disgusting face. A small improvement you think to yourself.

“I’ve had enough of this.” He hisses. “You will both learn. You see, I know my spawn better than they know themselves. He doesn’t love you! He is using you! You offer him protection, look how far you’ve pushed yourself just to protect him! And where is he? Do you hear him beating the door down? He knows where you are and yet, he’s not here.” Cazador spins around in a circle with arms spread open and a laugh escapes his mouth. “Stupid girl. You are but another number added to his list of fools.”

“You know nothing of him.” Your voice sounds so hoarse, so small. Astarion would never play you like this. You know him. The real him.

“Oh? I don’t? Why don’t we make a little wager then?” Amusement dances in his eyes. “Here is what is going to happen. I’m going to turn you into a spawn, just like him. I will return you to him once most of the change is complete and I can promise you my dear he will hate you the way he hates himself. Then when he realises that the game is done, he will hand himself over.” He places you down back on your feet, still gripping your neck tightly. Your body turns ice cold, your skin clammy as his crimson eyes bore into yours. He turns your head once again exposing your flesh. You feel a sharp excruciating pain pierce your neck, nothing like the ones you have shared with Astarion. It is at this moment you know that your time is up.

You feel yourself slipping away, tears spilling down your cheeks you close your eyes and hold your lover’s face in your mind, the face he makes after each kiss, the way his smile curls up when he’s being mischievous… how peaceful he looks when he rests next to you.

I love you Astarion. I am so sorry I couldn’t protect you, I failed you. The whisper in your mind dissipates as you can feel yourself leaving consciousness.

Something opens your mouth, you feel a single drop of warmth splash onto your tongue and everything goes black.

Your eyes snap open as you feel an intense burning sensation in your throat, you bring your hands up clutching at the base of your neck. You feel an immense pain and heaviness in your mouth, running your tongue over your teeth you feel something sharp scrape along the tastebuds. No. Your eyes dart around the cold cell and you spot a mirror in the corner. You rush towards it and raise it to your face only to find nothing. Nothing. No. No no no no. “No.” A small sob escapes your lips.

“There she is. Well my pet, you may just be my most beautiful spawn. Look at you… death becomes you, my dear.” Cazador is leaning against the wall outside the cell, a devilish smile runs across his face. “You are beautiful. If I am correct and he tosses you aside I may just keep you to myself. How does consort sound? Hmmm? No? Pity.” Words elude you, and a response will not come out from your mouth, not because of him, you still have the tadpole, but the words simply don’t form because you are in shock.

“Feed her a rat and then take her to him. He will surrender himself shortly after, I will win this little wager we have placed. I always do.” He turns to you again another smile spreading over his face “I’ll be seeing you again soon my dear, my most beautiful spawn.”

A smaller female spawn enters the cell, holds you down and pours a small helping of blood from a rodent down your throat. She then places her hand on your arm and once again you are teleported in a smoke of red ash back into the upper floor of the Elfsong tavern.

______________________

Astarion:

You look around the room, every single person in here is moving with purpose as fast as they can sorting out the final details, and gathering the supplies. Not one person has slept since her disappearance it has almost been a full 24 hours since she was taken but you promised yourself you would not wait a moment longer than that to finalise your plan. You knew he would use it as a trap to lure you to him and that’s exactly what you intended to do, just with reinforcements.

“ASTARION!” Shadowheart screams out to you from the doorway leading into the room. Your body is on full alert as you sprint towards her, she is on the floor holding something, no, someone. That’s when you see her, laying on the floor curled up, shaking and sobbing. You move quickly to her side and glance at Shadowheart, you see something in her eyes, sadness, rage and disbelief.

“What? Shadowheart. What? What is it?” You break your stare and glance down at your lover placing your hand under her chin. Something doesn’t feel right, gently you lift her to a seated position on the floor and as she turns to you you are met with crimson eyes.

“No.” You breathe out. “No… not you.” A crowd has gathered around you, their voices are muffled panicked noises in the background. You collect her in your arms and walk to your private quarters, close the doors and gently lay her down on the bed. She begins to sob uncontrollably as you scoop her up into your arms, crying with her. You have failed her and now she will never forgive you for not coming sooner.

“I’m… I’m so sorry Astarion. I… I couldn’t stop him. And now… now you won’t have me. He… he told me this would happen. He told me he would take me as his consort because once you saw me as a spawn you wouldn’t want me.” She sobs into your chest barely getting the words out. You stiffen after the confession is out. His consort? HIS? She had only been with him for 24 hours and he successfully derailed her mind, twisting her thoughts. You knew he was capable of this but still, it shook you to your core nonetheless. The way he gets into the minds of others and manipulates their thoughts. You are going to kill him, slowly and painfully for this. You swear it to yourself, to her.

“You will never be his.” Your words hiss out like venom. “You are mine. This changes nothing.” You bring her face up to yours looking deeply into her eyes as you plant a soft kiss on her lips, she lets out a small whimper that breaks you to pieces.

______________________

Tav:

"This changes nothing." Gods you want to believe him, you really do. It’s been two days now since you’ve been back, and you have mostly stayed in your private quarters lost deep in thought replaying the events from the palace. Astarion hasn’t left your side once, always holding you, placing soft kisses on your forehead and whispering soft “I love you’s” and apologies into your ear.

“Little love, look at me. Please… please.” His voice is soft and tender. You regain focus on the feel of his hand cupping your face, you only now notice it doesn’t feel cold anymore, instead it feels warm and soft.

“Your hand… it feels, warm. Why?” You whisper into his palm.

“Our bodies run at the same temperature, I will feel normal to you now.” He brings his face to yours and presses his forehead to yours inhaling deeply.

“Are you… sure… you still want me?” Your voice is small, unstable and your body shakes with anxiety while you wait for his response. You feel him tense slightly and then relax as he pulls away to look into your eyes.

“You once told me that being a spawn doesn’t define who I am. That Cazador may have turned me but I am still me inside. That he has no control of that.” He grazes his lips slowly across yours. “You are still who you are. You are still my world, my life. Your appearance may have changed slightly but it would have also changed as you aged and I would have grown to love those changes. I love you the same now, the only difference is that I get to love you forever instead of having to go through the pain of outliving you.” He kisses you deeply and you feel the love behind his kiss, you were a fool to ever doubt his love in the first place. You were right, you knew him better than Cazador.

“Astarion?” You ask quietly, “Does this mean I can no longer help you feed?” Your voice breaks a little bit near the end of your question. The act of him feeding on you has become something extremely special for you and it hurts to think that you may never get to do this for him ever again.

“You have been taken… Turned into a vampire spawn and your main concern is that you won’t be able to feed me?” His face lightens and a soft chuckle escapes his lips. “Darling, we need to talk about your priorities. But if you must know, we can still share this, the only significant difference is that you will now be able to feed off me. Should you wish to do so.”

“But, blood flow? How does that work?” You ask puzzled.

Astarion raises an eyebrow and a flash of mischief runs across his face. “Umm well my sweet, I’m sure you of all people will know that blood flow is still very much a thing for us. If you know what I mean.” You feel your cheeks flush as the realisation hits you.

“Oh. Right.” That is all you can say to that.

The light moment is replaced with heaviness once more as the two of you lay beside each other, scanning one another’s faces.

“I’m sorry Tav, I should have come straight away to save you. I thought… I thought we needed a plan, something solid to get in and get you out as fast as possible. I failed you and I am sorry…” He pauses for a moment and continues “Why did you do it? Why did you come between us when they tried to take me?” His voice was barely above a whisper now.

“I love you. That’s why and I would do it all over again if it meant I kept you out of his grasp.” You lift your hand and run it behind his head, lacing your fingers into his silky curls. He leans in moving his body closer and brings his lips to yours. It starts slow and tender, but the pace quickens with the realisation that this could have ended differently. His kisses become sloppy and urgent as his tongue enters your mouth. You suddenly taste something metallic and a growl escapes your mouth, a hunger springs to life within you and you push him away flinging yourself back off the bed. “It’s okay my love. I can help, just, give me two minutes, stay there do not move. You’re hungry, you haven’t fed these past couple of days. I have a jar that I had kept for myself. I will be right back, I promise.” He quickly exits the room and re-enters not even 40 seconds later.

“Come here, drink this.” He sits you on the bed and hands the jar over. You open the lid and the smell hits your nose, your mouth starts to salivate as you bring it to your lips and take your first gulp. Your hunger instantly eases the moment you go for your third mouthful.

“Drink it all.” He says while he holds your hand. You listen and drink your fill and place the empty jar on the side table. “Do you feel better now?” He asks as he strokes your cheek.

“Much, thank you.” You offer a small smile to him.

“Good, because I believe we were interrupted. Where were we?” He asks as he slowly guides you back down onto the bed. His lips crashing into yours parting them instantly as he cautiously moves his tongue against yours. A soft grown escapes his lips, his hands roam up your body tangling up into your hair as he grinds against you.

“Astarion, stop - we don’t need to do this.” You say between kisses. “I told you we can wait when you’re ready.”

“Tonight my love I’m making an exception.” He says as he kisses you again his hands running down your frame and he lifts your shirt off with ease. He trails soft kisses up your torso over your bare breasts and pauses at your neck. You know he is looking at the fresh wounds.

“I’m going to kill him.” He hisses. “I’m going to kill him slowly. I will make him beg for mercy.”

“I want to be there when it happens.” You whisper. “Astarion? You can say no… but I don’t want his marks to be the last on me. Please… please replace them.”

“Darling, you need not ask. I was already thinking just that.” He slowly leans down and places a soft kiss on your neck before sinking his teeth in. His free hand slithers down your body, slips under your panties and starts running circles around your swollen bundle of nerves. You let out a soft moan and his paces quickens. The first wave of pleasure rolls through you fast and unforgiving as he releases his mouth from your neck placing another soft kiss onto the bite.

His gaze meets yours and a flicker of that mischief you love so much makes an appearance.

“Your turn now, little love. Replace my marks. Please.” He whispers his breath hot in your ear.

“…How? How do I do it?” You ask breathlessly.

“Listen to your body, go slowly and let… instinct guide you.” He rolls underneath you and turns his head to the side.

Slowly you mimic his previous movements, you think about all the times he’s fed on you and you focus on every single step. As you lower your mouth to his neck you plant a small soft kiss on the healed wounds, you open your mouth and slowly sink in. You feel a small amount of pressure on your fangs and then they sink deeper. The blood in the jar is nothing compared to his. You take slow, long pulls into your mouth, enjoying the way he moans and sighs in pleasure. You can feel him harden underneath you and you grind against his length. After two pulls you release him from your mouth and you hear a small moan of disappointment.

“My sweet, I was rather enjoying that, do it again.” He says while he removes his pants letting his length spring free. He then makes quick work of tearing off your underclothes and gently brings your head back down to his neck.

You sink back in but as you make your first pull he has moved underneath you making sure his hard length enters you, stretching you out deliciously. You growl against his neck as he starts thrusting upwards into your sex.

“Gods…” He breathes out as the thrusting quickens his hand finds your clit again and starts rubbing furious circles around the sensitive bud. You start to pull back but his other hand comes down holding you into place. “Drink.” He orders and you obey. “Fuck. Good girl. I’m.. I’m close.” His words send you into a frenzy as you match his thrusts with your grinding and it doesn’t take long before he cries your name as his hips start bucking in ecstasy.

“I love you. I will always, always love you.” He moans into your ear as you come crashing into another wave of pleasure. This time he allows you to let go of his neck and you fall beside him on the bed. The two of you slick with sweat while you hold each other.

“He really thought, that I wouldn’t love you anymore? Hasn’t he realised that he has unintentionally given me the greatest gift of being able to love you eternally.” He speaks the words into your hair while holding you close.

“Forever?” You whisper.

“Forever.” He says and places a kiss on your forehead. “But first, let’s go kill the bastard.”

____

Part two here

[waterdeepwife]

Gale NSFW Headcanons

Paring: Gale x Fem! Reader

Warnings: NSFW, smut, talk of different kinks, both soft vanilla Gale and kinda kinky Gale, unprotected sex, P in V, typos probably, bondage, soft top/gentle dom! Gale, student/professor roleplay, oral sex, mirrors, edging and teasing, typos, Mystra mention(gross), that might be all? Proceed with caution and take care of yourselves!

Gale is a freak there is no denying that, but he also knows how to keep his freak side in check. He knows not everyone will be into what he is into, so he tends to start off very vanilla in the start of relationships. (Unless asked otherwise.) And he always has a safe word in place.

He was slowly beginning suggesting new things in the bedroom starting off very light and sweet. An example would be where he asks if you’d let him tie you up as he eats your pussy. If you are a virgin/never been into BDSM before he will only restrain your hands, he doesn’t want to scare you. But if you experienced/want to be tied up more he will happily accommodate you. Gale uses a purple rope that won’t burn or hurt you, or he will simply use magic to keep you in place.

Gale prefers to be on top and to be the dominant one, but he is very sweet and caring. All because he loves you and wants to please you, to show how devoted he is to you.

He will never do anything that will hurt you. No choking, no slapping in the face, no weapons. He couldn’t bring himself to do that to you even if you liked that. However you could get Gale to spank you, but it’s very light and barely stings as he rubs your ass afterwords.

The wizard takes some time to admit that he has a huge kink for Teacher and Student Roleplay. Loves when you play a bratty student who won’t behave, or a sweet, innocent student desperate to raise her grade. Gale will conjure up a fake classroom to even make it seem more real. He gets into his role as your dirty minded professor easily.

Loves to teasing and edging. He wants to spend as much time as possible making love to you, to be close and bond with you. So Gale with edge you both at the same time. He fuck you until you are both close to your release, only to pull out and tell you how much he loves you. How he doesn’t want this to stop and he needs a moment to catch his breath. All while his hand snakes down to your pussy and starts teasing your clit and hole. He also loves when you tease him orally. He doesn’t like blowjobs fast and sloppy, but slow and sensual. Gale goes crazy when you fondle his balls and sucking him gently, he mumbles about how close he is into for you to stop. He will whine and beg for you to keep going, but you only giving little licks to his tip.

Gale could come from praise alone. Calling him a good boy makes him so weak in the knees, it makes him work even harder/faster. Lives to please you and knowing he is loved, and appreciated, and doing a good job means the world to him. He will also reciprocate the praise; “Such a good girl.” “You feel so good, my beautiful woman.” “You are taking me so well.”

The wizard also conjures up mirrors surrounding you two, so you both can get a good look at what’s going on. There is always a mirror on the ceiling so you can watch Gale pound you while you are trapped under him.

Gale is a simple man when it comes to positions in sex. He loves missionary so he can keep you close as watch your face. But he also loves spooning sex, typically right before bed or when you both wake up in the morning, he loves it for lazy sex. Other positions he’s tried with you are; Face off, leap frog, table top, against the wall, your legs over his shoulders. Probably some others.

He also loves to overstimulate you, if you allow him. Which it honestly just stims from Gale is a pussy addict and loves to be between your thighs for as long as he can. I’m not kidding trying to tear him away is not an easy thing to do, he pouts and whines and begs for more. If you need a break or want to move along he will agree out of respect, but he is already missing the taste of your pussy.

I’m sorry to all you big dick lovers but we keep things realistic around here. Gale isn’t a very big man, so his cock isn’t huge either. When fully erect his dick is just a little over five inches long, but he is decently thick. He knows how to use it, how to thrust at just the right angle to make you see stars.

I have a toxic headcanon that Mystra would use magic to make his cock bigger, which lead him to being even more insecure and feeling unworthy.

Aside from his talking Gale isn’t very loud during love making. He mostly makes soft groans and hums as he rocks into you, or he will pant or breathe heavily. Even when he talks to you it’s sweet whispers and promises.

He doesn’t like being called Daddy, it makes him cringe. Gale wants to have children one day and his children call him Daddy- so it rubs him the wrong way to be called it in bed by his wife/lover.

Gale loves filling you up with his seed and just holding himself inside you while you two catch your breath. When he pulls out he holds your legs apart so he can watch his cum pool out of you.

He is the king of after care. He loves to clean you up, rub your body and make sure you a warm and comfortable. Gale tells you how well you did, how much he loves you and promises to always be by your side.

[always-just-red]

A/N: Poured my soul into this a couple weeks ago, am dedicating it to everyone who's similarly torn between Sylus and their original LI- especially my fellow Rafayel girlies! This is not going to help! It's going to make it worse!! 🥰

Unspoken

Sylus x Reader 🩸 (implied Rafayel x reader)

Summary: You could fix all of this if Sylus would just resonate with you. Why won't he resonate with you?

Genre: Angst, so much angst, brace yourselves

Warnings/Additional tags: gn!reader, injury detail, blood, swearing, possibly not lore-accurate (I've taken some creative liberties with Sylus' healing abilities and MC's resonance for the sake of maximum angst, because I like to suffer!)

| Word count: 2k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Like the first, warm prickle of sunlight when you step out of a cold shadow.”

“Hmm?”

“That is what you said to him, right?”

Sylus’s eyes are closed, his head leant back against the wall and his whole body heavy with tiredness. He doesn’t move as he asks you the question. Doesn’t fix you with that suffocating, crimson gaze— like he usually does— and you almost miss it. There’s a pain to his tone, accentuating the gravel of his voice, and a part of you thinks it isn’t all for the injuries you’ve set about tending to.

If he was looking at you, you would see it, wouldn’t you? That flicker of melancholy that sometimes liked to betray the rest of him. Maybe that’s why he keeps his eyes closed.

You deliberate his words, trying to ignore the way he tenses as you press gauze to a wound on his stomach. They did feel familiar: a simile dancing at edge of your consciousness, just barely out of reach. It was hard to pursue the past with the present wetting your fingertips, fresh, hot, and red.

One clue: That is what you said to him, right? Him. Him? Who was—

Ah.

Suddenly the words are your own, at the tip of your tongue, because you're saying them in a memory. You were with Rafayel in his studio, reunited and safely returned from the N109 Zone. He had been holding you close, telling you he’d missed you and that he’d been waiting forever; he was so, so bored. You’d smiled fondly. Laced your fingers through his and resonated: wanting to lose yourself in his power, wanting to forget there was any other kind of warmth. He had sighed softly. The sensation was usually buried beneath blood and battle; you’d forgotten how intimate it was.

Then he’d asked you what it felt like.  

“You heard that?” you say to Sylus.

He hums a little. “Not directly.”

“Sylus.”

His name evokes a faint interest, or perhaps it’s the way you said it: chiding, stern— like you were just getting started. His right eye opens, regarding you warily. “Mmm?”

“We’ve talked about this.”

“You’ve lectured me, sweetie.” He leans back again, eyes closed. “There is a difference.”

You resist the urge to wring his neck, especially when it’s bared as invitingly as it is now. It feels calculated. Deliberate. You can almost imagine him lying there, anticipating the fatal vice of your hands. It was what he always seemed to want: to drag you into sin with him.

“I wouldn’t have to lecture you if you actually listened to me,” you reason, releasing a breath. “You can’t keep spying on me, Sy.”

He hums again: this time sceptically. “Can’t I? But you say such pretty things to him, kitten. It’s like watching a melodramatic film. I’d hate to miss it.”

“You’re jealous.”

“Maybe,” he admits with a half-hearted chuckle. “Then again, maybe not.”

You don’t know what to say, so you pretend it’s because you’re busy. Sylus’s hastily rolled up shirt has slipped downwards, catching the edge of his wound, and you lift it delicately, your fingers skirting over skin. His jaw clenches. His hands fist. His mouth is a tight line and you’re not sure what it’s holding onto more carefully: a short hiss of pain or the rest of his confession.

There are always things he isn’t telling you, but he comes closer to it at times like this, when you could do anything to him— cut his throat, collect on so many bounties— and instead you’re just… nice.

It’s the reason he doesn’t call when he’s slumped somewhere after a shootout, his Evol exhausted and his strength draining from half a dozen wounds he can’t quite heal yet. It’s the reason he lay here for who knows how many hours before you found him, rolling his eyes as you rushed to his side, because Luke and Kieran couldn’t keep their mouths shut.

You want to shout at him— want to scold him for being so goddamn stupid— but you don’t. Here you are instead, humouring him and playing nurse, when a simple resonance would suffice. He’d tried to force it before, but now, when you had thrust your hand into his and willed him to take? He’d snatched his hand back. Insisted on bearing his pain ‘the old-fashioned way’.

He was so fucking stubborn.

“What does it feel like with me?”

Sylus’s voice is gentle but his eyes are sharp— cutting into you like a blade striving for bone. It’s an unintentional violence, a jarring: I know what you’re thinking, but I’d rather hear you say it. Kindred spirits; he sees your mind and your heart and then looks at you like it isn’t a weapon. Like you should be grateful for the knife at your throat because you can trust the hand that’s holding it.

“I don’t know.”

“Oh, please,” he scoffs, “if you can conjure up a metaphor for your little artist, you can do the same for me.”

Something is stoked in you, and though you bite your tongue, your careful fingers slip for a moment, pressing into the tender skin at the edge of his wound. Sylus grimaces— hisses— though you could swear there’s a hint of a smile on his lips.

You’d sinned, hadn’t you? “You really wanna know?”

He nods, his eyes on you again. It’s your hand on the knife, and he trusts you implicitly.  

“It’s like… the ocean, I guess.”

“Inspired.”

“Shut up—” you flick his forehead— “just listen, ok? It was overwhelming at first. Zayne, Xavier, Raf… They’re all so powerful. But you? It felt like you could drown me. Like you wanted to drown me.”

Sylus is quiet. You’re running an antiseptic wipe over the smaller scrapes on his stomach, but he doesn’t flinch.

“It was consuming,” you carry on as you work. “Frightening. There was so much of it- so much you- filling my lungs, trying to take my breath away. The entire time I could feel how fathomless it was. I knew if I stopped fighting it I would sink, and that I would never, ever stop.”

You can remember it vividly, especially when you’re as close to him as you are now. Though there’s no more dark energy, twisting around you, dragging you closer, you can still feel its grasp. You can see it, too, when you look up at him: hunger, burning red.

It isn’t a command anymore; it’s a longing.

And you both know you can’t give him what he wants.

“But then I did stop fighting,” you continue, because you can at least answer his question. “And I could still breathe. I was still… myself.” You place a hand on his knee. “It doesn’t scare me anymore, Sy. It’s vast and intimidating, but it’s… exciting, too.”

You smile and give his knee a playful squeeze. “I wanna see how deep it goes.”

He’s stoic for another moment, an apathetic gaze dropping to your hand before lifting to your lips. Then he’s smiling too, leaning closer: “I want to show you how deep it—”

“Don’t ruin it.” You push him back to the wall.

He laughs, running a hand through his white hair, his eyes never leaving yours. There’s a place in his mind where he’s closing the distance again, and he doesn’t care if you know it. You feel the heat in your cheeks betraying you, so you focus back on the man’s injuries: the gash on his stomach has already bled through your bandages. It’ll need stitches.

You sigh, starting to peel back your previous work.

“Does it hurt?” Sylus asks. “Now that you’ve… stopped fighting?”  

You glance up, and he’s examining his hand like it’s a gun he hasn’t yet fired and so can't know the power of. He flexes his fingers, pale in the light. “A little,” you admit, thinking of Zayne’s ice and Rafayel’s fire. Resonating was always a trust exercise: it could kill you, could burn, and you had to be willing to let it. “But I can handle it.”  

Used bandages tossed aside, Sylus’s wound looks as dire as when you’d first lifted his shirt to find it. You lean back, lips pursed in bleak assessment; somewhere at the back of your mind, Zayne is insisting this is a job for a real doctor.

“That bad, huh?”

You huff in answer, exhausted. You shoot Sylus a look of defeat before gingerly offering your hand.

His eyes flit between it and you, and you have to give another nod of encouragement before he surrenders. He holds his breath— it’s slow— his forefinger gliding tentatively up your wrist, spelling a silent question, before tracing a circle in your palm. He closes his eyes. His long fingers spread yours and he’s claiming your hand with something between reverence and sin.

His touch trespasses delicately. His Evol doesn’t.

You bite back a gasp as power surges through you, dark and devouring. Your eyes snap shut and your hand tightens around his, not knowing if it’ll ground you or drag you deeper, not caring so long as there’s something in all this everything to hold onto. This could kill you— you would let this kill you, but it won’t. Your nails are leaving crescents in his skin and you know, you know, the world will burn long before you do.

This is different than the others. Better than the others.

Suddenly your hand is empty and the darkness is not a promise but a place where you’re alone. Your eyes flutter open, searching for an anchor. Your head is swimming.

“Are you alright?” Sylus is looking at you, his hand on your shoulder, steadying you, and it takes everything in your power not to grasp it again.

So empty. So alone. “I’m fine,” you manage, but your voice is shaking.

“Tch.”

He’s not a man who wastes his time, and he knows better than to push that particular lie. Rejuvenated, he sits up, stretching his arms and rolling his shoulders— reacquainting himself with the strength of his body. He’s imposing again. Looming over you, again. His wounds have all healed, and you watch as the stains of his blood lift and disintegrate, like embers on a breeze.

His hand moves to massage his neck, and he yawns as he lazily tips his head from side to side. “Enjoying the show, sweetie?”

You don’t really hear him. He chuckles, pulling his shirt back down before waving a hand in front of your face; you catch it in a heartbeat. “Stop it.”

“There you are.” 

He twists his wrist free, but then your fingers are around his hand, turning it over so you can get a better look. Your thumb traces thoughtfully over the marks you’d made. “Aren’t you going to heal—”

“No,” he smirks.

He wants you to ask him why, so there’s no way in hell you’re going to. You both have your secrets: some worn on the sleeve and others, clutched a little closer to the chest. What does it feel like with me? You turn the question over in your mind as you tidy up wet gauze and bandages. You had told him the truth, just not all of it.

Like how you don’t lose yourself in him, but feel more yourself than you ever have.

Like how every time it gets easier, but so much harder to stop.

“So,” you mutter, distracting yourself, “are you happy with your metaphor?”

Sylus mulls it over as he studies you, a faint glow in his right eye. There are also things he wants to say, but he’s thinking of you and the artist, locked in a wistful embrace in a cluttered studio, so he keeps them to himself. His gaze tells you what he doesn’t: that he will bear it with a smile, for you, and that he will hold onto it long after it makes his hands bleed.

“It was a trifle trite, perhaps. Though… sweet,” he purrs. “Who knew a kitten could be so eloquent?”

“Fuck you.”

“Mmm.” He grins as he looks at your marks on his skin. “That’s better.”

[gluion]

safe haven (how much longer do we have?) ➵ leehan

leehan x reader, slight sungho x reader

you can only hope for more tomorrows with leehan.

genre/warnings ➵ strangers to lovers, heavy angst with a happy ending, touch of fluff, gender-neutral reader, reader is shorter than leehan and sungho, lowercase intended, apocalypse au, hurt/comfort (both physical and emotional), depictions of grief, descriptions of gore/blood, use of guns, allusions and discussions of suicide, minor character deaths, sungho is your ex, myungjae and taesan appearance :’), elements of the last of us (don’t support neil druckmann!), mostly written in past tense (because u’re remembering!)

word count ➵ 6.2k words

inspired by ➵ “anaheim” by niki, “are you happy?” by wavesmp3, “love wins all” by iu, episode three of hbo’s the last of us, and “you’re gonna carry that weight” quote from cowboy bebop

a/n ➵ i really love this piece with everything in me so i thought i'd release it to bonedoblr as well!! you can check out the jacob & taerae versions as well. if you enjoyed reading, please do reblog and leave feedback!

want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! masterlist

time was the one thing that occupied everyone’s minds. it held value, something that shouldn’t be wasted, and people revolved their lives around it.

questions flew around with every tick and tock—what day is it today? when’s your next doctor’s appointment? how long has it been since you’ve last seen your friends from high school? until when does this meeting last? 

as the hands of the clock continue to rotate, the calendar pages would flip along. birthdays were celebrated with every revolution as candles on cakes were lit up, awaiting the puff of celebrants as they wished for their desires. holidays were ones to look forward to; people dressed up to celebrate periods of the year that mattered to them while others slept in until noon. and days were spent counting down until graduations, where caps with tassels would fly to the expanse of blue and orange as cheers and sobs sound throughout.

but now, no one keeps track of time. clocks stopped moving and calendars weren’t produced annually. once the surge of the infected took over, grabbing on humans—taking them away from the lives they’ve lived—everyone ran like they were running out of time. with every second that passes, people are ridden with possibilities of how they might bid farewell to life itself—would it be through the hands of the infected or their own?

now, only one question echoes within their minds: how long do we have?

yet, the clock continues—tick, tock, tick, tock. it keeps going, and going, and going, like how everyone expects it. while everyone seemed to let time go, you still kept track of it all: birthdays, holidays, a graduation you never had.

the outbreak hit two years ago on the day of sungho’s graduation. cheers turned into screams. white togas and diplomas were splattered with red. the lively became lifeless.

you remember sungho’s hand in yours, fingers gripping you as if you were his life, as you charged out of the gymnasium, legs keeping up with the speed of his. you darted off to nowhere as images of the infected tearing people apart took up every block, all the way from skin to bone.

and while it was a rush of tragedies, sungho was the only hope you had.

“keep your eyes on me,” he glanced at you, “don’t look at them. only look at me.”

it was impossible to ignore the wails that filled your ears, but you would repeat his words—his soft-spoken voice—to drown them out.

by nightfall, you and sungho found yourselves in a motel room, skin cleaned from blood splatters and dressed in clothes that engulfed your figures, and in each other’s arms on a twin-sized bed. the duvet that wrapped around you two is thin, not at all keeping you warm for the night, but the warmth of sungho was enough to provide you a sense of security—stability amidst the ever-changing world.

he whispered into the crown of your head, words meant to dispel your fears, all while you sobbed into his shirt. there was nothing that he could do but stay strong for you.

and for a few days, that room acted as your safe haven. the time spent within those four walls is the life you imagined your future with sungho. it would’ve been in a two-story house with a garden where a singular orange tree stands, lounging on the couch as you played movies to fall asleep to, but all you had was an old room with a carpeted floor with unrecognizable stains and a bathroom unable to fit two.

yet, you would choose this over anything. even if it meant eating instant noodles for every meal or sleeping on a mattress that ruins your backs, you would choose this if it meant sungho would be with you.

still, time continues to move. sungho knew that you both couldn’t stay in that room or else the infected may reach you. so when you both went to bed on that last night, you outlined his features from the space between his eyebrows all the way to his lips, and you spent that time memorizing his warmth to carry with you for the rest of your life. you could only hope that he stays with you until the end.

after a month passed, you and sungho met jaehyun, an injured boy who only wanted to live. at first, sungho was hesitant to take the stranger in, but you wouldn’t allow yourself to live with the idea of abandoning someone in need. in a world where the infected have taken over, it only seemed right to help out others; save them from a fate they’re not ready to meet.

what started off as a pair turned into a trio. you’ve learned more about what it takes to survive in this life. long gone is the need for money to buy necessities; you need to scavenge for supplies if you want to live in an infected-ridden world. thanks to jaehyun, you and sungho got to learn about how to find them in every building that you pass on the journey.

but it’s not enough to know where to find food and bullets. sungho decided that it was only right to teach you how to use a gun. with every morning that came, you two spent hours learning how to hold, reload, and fire.

“don’t worry,” he told you as his chin hovered over your shoulder. you both stared at the tin can situated on a stack of boxes only a few meters away. “you won’t have to worry about fighting alone. i’ll be here with you.” as you exhaled, your eyes zeroed in on the target. “now, shoot.”

six months have passed, and you were happy that you were still a trio. jaehyun became your best friend over that time. his laughs were enough to shine glimmers of hope onto you. you were glad that you decided to help him off the ground and tend to his bullet wound that day.

until you found yourselves retreating from the horde of infected.

time moves at a constant speed but it can become swift if it decides to. when you and jaehyun reached the doors leading to safety, you remember seeing sungho fighting off those who were once like you, bullets firing at their heads. you remember your screams, telling him to run to you—go to where it’s safe—so that you can keep having tomorrows with him.

yet, sungho glanced at jaehyun, nodding at him before his eyes met yours. you watched how his mouth moved, a soundless three-word phrase leaving him before the doors shut before you. you would’ve pried them open but jaehyun kept his arms around you, holding you back. from letting the infected reach you. from letting sungho come back to you.

the wails that left you were enough to attract the infected. if only they were to burst through the doors, grab onto you and bring you to sungho, then maybe you would stop crying. yet, jaehyun dragged you away. you never saw him as your best friend after that.

a month passed, and you still refused to talk to him. the boy tried to strike up a conversation with you, trying to earn your laugh like he used to, but he was only met with a cold shoulder. with every brick he put, you smashed your sledgehammer against it, dispelling any hope he had in rekindling his friendship with you.

the two of you learned to live in silence, fighting for survival while dealing with the loss of the one who would always bring you both to safety.

until you came across another boy who pointed his gun toward you. his defensive demeanor reminded you of sungho, and you wondered if this was his doing—his reincarnation. but before he could pull the trigger, jaehyun saved you from meeting your fate.

somehow, the duo had turned into a trio once more. you still refused to talk to jaehyun but would eavesdrop on the conversations he shared with the stranger. you learned that the new addition is named leehan.

but even the stranger wasn’t enough to fill the void that sungho left. with every nightfall, when the soft snores of the two boys filled your ears, tears streamed down your face as sobs threatened to spill out. the palm of your hand wasn’t enough to muffle your weeps. behind your eyelids, sungho’s last words to you play on repeat. the ones he failed to say. the ones you’ll never hear again.

maybe if you didn’t leave that motel room then he would’ve still been with you, arms finding their place around your waist as he trails kisses all over you. if the outbreak didn’t happen, then maybe you would be living in that two-story house with him. maybe you would wake up to a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice by the bedside table and the warmth of his lips on your forehead. and maybe you could finally tell him yes before he slips the silver band on your finger—you could’ve grown with him until your hair turns grey.

the weight you carry never got lighter with time. the void continued to consume you whole with the goal of ripping you apart. as another month passed, another life was lost—not to the infected but to the raiders.

“myungjae, you have to stay with me.” those were the first words you told him since sungho’s death. crimson continued to spill out of his abdomen through the gaps between your fingertips in the same way tears flow out. “leehan! find gauze, betadine, anything!” you never glanced at the stranger, keeping your gaze on your best friend whose eyes continued to droop.

still, jaehyun caressed your face, thumb wiping teardrops. as he slowly entered territories that you both knew he would never escape, he grinned at you one last time. “i missed hearing you. i’m glad you’ll be the last thing i hear.”

but you tried to tell him that you couldn’t be the last voice he heard. it should’ve been with someone he can imagine his future with, maybe in a two-story house or a cramped flat in an apartment complex. he deserves more tomorrows in the same way sungho did.

but time continues to move. it took him away from you in a matter of minutes, slithering away without a second thought and no regard for the value of life, and all you were left with was his temple—still. lifeless. as you sobbed into his shirt, still holding the wound, the warmth of leehan’s hand stayed on your back, moving along with your wails. 

now, you carry the loss of two. it never got easier with time.

leehan still sticks with you. it only seemed right. stay strong in numbers as you wander off to nowhere, grasping at the loose ends of survival.

two weeks have passed. you and leehan got used to the new dynamic; while he went hunting and you were tasked with scavenging, you both played your roles in combat, ready for any raid or horde. when night comes, you both took shifts, keeping watch while the other got some shut-eye.

until that one evening.

you recall the sounds of wood crackling from the fire. it stood strong against the breeze—burning, shining—surrounded by greens that latch on browns. hues of amber cascaded over your skin, painting you with warmth—it’ll never compare to the one you craved. your eyes drifted to leehan who sat across from you, his eyes trained on the fire as he rubbed his palms together. perhaps he craved the same type of warmth you longed for.

“we used to be three.” his eyes snapped towards yours. “before you came, we used to be three—jaehyun, me, and—” it rose in you like bile, wanting to escape but never leaving. “we were three then.”

you glanced at the wood that continued to burn. “we met jaehyun a month after the outbreak, spent six months together until—” the claws of the void struck against your throat, holding you back from sharing with the stranger what your life was before he came. while you never found the right words to say, leehan never pushed, letting you say what you wanted to share while filling in the blanks on his own. 

“i resented jaehyun after what happened.” you moved your gaze to leehan whose eyes never left you. “refused to talk to him. refused to forgive.” and you remember how you hesitated, taking a deep breath in before sputtering out the next sentence. “refused to accept.”

nine months ago, the outbreak didn’t happen. nine months ago, you were attending sungho’s graduation. nine months ago, you two were imagining your tomorrows together—for eternity.

and those nine months fractured all hopes and dreams; the glass is now littered with cracks, ready to burst into shards.

“but i think about the last time we saw jaehyun,” the image of him sitting in front of you all frail, treading the line between life and death, flashed in front of you; it’s quick but strong to remind you of what’s lost. “and i wish i could’ve learned how to forgive during those two months.”

but it was an impossible request. how could you ever forgive a boy you’ve known for only six months for taking your future away? how could you forgive a world that took him away? how could you forgive and live?

and still, you did.

you left it at that. they were enough. so when you told leehan that you’ll take over tonight’s shift, he never asked to hear more. instead, he laid near the campfire as you kept an eye out.

and once enough hours have passed, you allowed yourself to sob like other nights. the breeze that passed through branches reminded you of jaehyun; rustling leaves imitated the giggles of the boy you’ve only known during the apocalypse.

the wind that grazed against your skin should’ve been a nuisance, but the warmth of the fire wrapped you up like the duvet in that motel room. and you don’t complain—it’s the only part of sungho you have left.

the heat was enough to last you the night, but the chill of reality sent you back to the void.

that night, leehan listened to your sobs. not one of you got enough rest for the journey.

another two weeks went by. you two got into a better groove of the routine; instead of hunting and scavenging in silence, you and leehan found yourselves talking more about your lives before the outbreak. you learned that he’s only a year younger than sungho, and he shared that he had plans to pursue music.

“if the world finds a cure to this mess, you have to promise me that you’ll get me front-row tickets to your first show.” it was a joke. in what world could there be a cure for the infected? but the wishful thinking of what could be—what could’ve been—is all you had left.

still, leehan promised you that.

that night, you two stayed in the living room of an abandoned house. instead of lighting the fireplace, candles were placed on the coffee table. they shined in the middle of you two, you who stayed on the couch and leehan who sat on the mattress lying on the floor.

“where were you?” his eyes met yours. “on the day of the outbreak, i mean.”

he leaned back, hands resting on the mattress before he looked once more at the wax that continued to melt. “i was there for my upperclassmen’s graduation.” it hit you like sudden downpour on a sunny day. “i knew people in the music program and we were going to celebrate after. until the infected came.”

and when you said the name of the university, his gaze met yours as his shoulders stiffened. “m—my sungho.” it’s the first time you spoke of his name, and the sight of leehan’s eyes widening over it was enough to speak for himself.

“i—i didn’t know,” he whispered, but his words were loud enough to shatter glass. “i only spoke to him a few times. he talked about you with so much love.”

your heart skipped beats; it should’ve been enough to send you off into the same territories where sungho and jaehyun now stay. your mouth turned dry as leehan’s voice morphed into radio silence.

before you knew it, the two of you left the information to hang in the air as you tried to drift into slumber.

the clock continues to tick. minutes turned into hours; time moves like it usually does once more.

yet, you were stuck in the same gymnasium, fixing sungho’s toga as you scolded him about how wrinkled it’s become—hey! you’ll go up on stage soon. we can’t take pictures of you like this. despite your words, he smiled at you before grazing his lips on your temple—his silent way of telling you the three-word phrase.

in a split second, you were off the couch. you barged out of the house, clutching your chest as the knot constricted your throat, and your feet dragged you off to nowhere. every sound has turned into a buzz—only the voice of sungho being the one clear thing amidst the hysteria.

before you knew it, you stood before a horizon of green. it takes only one step into the woods, alone with no protection, for you to meet your demise. you would’ve charged into it in the same way you would’ve charged out to save sungho that day.

all it takes is one step, and—

“what are you doing?!” a pair of hands gripped your shoulders, spinning you around until you were face-to-face with the last form of life that you know of. his breaths were short as his fingers dug into your arms. “you can’t just rush out in the middle of the night! i woke up worried sick.” his eyebrows knitted in frustration. confusion. distress. the voice was caught in your throat.

how does one begin to unpack the baggage they’ve learned to carry? when the items they bring are revolting, rotten, repugnant, how does someone not feel shame about showing all the tattered-up objects?

how do you learn to open up to someone you’ve only known for three months?

your hands trembled; you’ve carried the weight of it all for too long.

in that split second, your nose met the juncture between his chin and shoulder. the material of his shirt against your cheek allowed you to bathe in what you miss—the hand of jaehyun that once caressed your face. the lips of sungho that lingered with every kiss. all the moments that you hoped time would freeze just for you lives in the boy you stick with for survival.

all it took were leehan’s hands to rest on the lower side of your back for the tears to begin their stream. the sobs spill out. for once, they weren’t muffled like those other nights. they sounded throughout the space that surrounded you two. you allowed yourself to drop the baggage only for a few minutes.

leehan took you back to the house that night, allowing you to sob about all that you’ve kept under the wraps.

when sunrise came, you found your legs mixed with his as his arms remained wrapped around you and your ear pressed against his chest. the sound of his breathing is the one reminder of what a safe haven is. 

half a year went by. leehan still stays by your side. the baggage got lighter.

it should’ve been the same routine; leehan goes off to hunt while you scavenge, and you’ll take turns on the night shifts. but that night shifted something between you two. stolen glances. quiet giggles. linked fingers.

two months have gone by. the moon shined through the trees, their shadows cascading on an abandoned cabin that you and leehan decided to stay in for that night.

it should’ve been the same set-up as other nights spent in abandoned houses; you’ll sleep on the couch while he sleeps on a dragged-out mattress. instead, he sat with you, your back resting on his chest along with his hand staying on your arm. 

a lit candle rested on the table; its amber tones painted leehan’s skin—close to the fruit tree that stands in your lost future.

“what would you do if there is a cure to this?” you watched how his fingers danced across your skin, calloused from plucking guitar strings or wielding a gun. 

leehan’s chest rumbled against your back as he hummed. “what would you do?”

a giggle left as you looked at the boy. “i was the one who asked you first!”

he shot you a grin as his hand slipped into yours. the candle continued to burn; it did a poor job of giving you light and warmth that night. but he did it all—one smile. one exhale. one indication to show that he lives.

“travel, maybe? or i’ll go back to writing music.” you nodded at his plans before looking back at the light source. “what about you?”

“i don’t know.”

there was no point in going back to university after such a catastrophe. if anything, the year spent surrounded by the infected, fighting for survival, has shown you that there’s more to life than the perpetual cycle of working a nine-to-five.

so…

“i would settle down if i could.” the wax continued to melt. “i think i’ve seen enough of the world. for once, i just want to stay home. indulge in my hobbies. live the life that i want.”

his breath grazed the top of your head. “with someone?” and suddenly, you became aware of it all—the heat that emitted from his palm. the movement of his chest against your back. the gravity of his question.

the words get caught in your throat. your heartbeat rang in your ears. for the first time since sungho’s death, you considered it. 

“with someone.”

before you knew it, his hand caressed your cheek. you were forced to meet his eyes which glistened with devotion. he leaned forward, his breath grazing your skin while you held in yours. you didn’t miss how his gaze flickered to your lips before he met your eyes once more.

then, he held back. it’s a choice, one only you can make. but when your eyes shut, it’s a quiet plea—a silent yes.

his lips met yours. 

the warmth that blossomed in your chest wasn’t like the one in that motel room. not like the embrace of the one you’ve lost. it was one of all seasons—changing with the weather, bringing comfort throughout the everchanging times.

it’s a perpetual cycle of fighting for survival.

you’ll endure through it all.

a month passed by, and you came across another boy on the journey. he’s named taesan, and he told you of a safe haven located in the town that you and leehan grew up in.

for a moment, it was an internal debate—should you go back to where the downfall started? can you go to where the memory of sungho still lives?

but one glance at leehan was enough to settle it. the three of you embarked on your journey.

you remember that day. it was a walk with the goal of finding a car to make the journey back an easy one. the heat of the sun prickled against your skin but you still kept your arms crossed.

“are you two together?” taesan asked, causing you to whip your head towards him. your eyes met leehan’s for a split second—confusion. dejection—before they landed back at the stranger who kept his eyes on the path you took.

“no, we aren’t.”

for the rest of the journey, it was quiet.

sundown came, and you found yourselves in a convenience store for that night’s shelter. leehan was in charge of taking the night shift, allowing you and taesan to rest up. when the stranger went off to sleep on the makeshift bed, you were left alone with leehan.

you watched how he cleaned his gun with a rag stained with dark splotches. the moon gleamed through the window—it can’t compare to how leehan shines.

you needed to get some sleep, is what you tell yourself. with one spin, you were about to make your way to where you’d sleep for that night.

“are we really not?” you halted in your tracks. “did it mean nothing?”

not a single answer left your mouth. your eyes remained straightforward as you refused to meet his gaze.

the warmth vanished with a lack of an answer. instead, it was replaced once more with the cold—the void—that attempted to consume you whole.

and when a scornful chuckle left leehan, you knew that you’d burnt the bridge. you walked away, leaving him to do his job, bidding farewell to the closest form of a safe haven.

two weeks went by and another goodbye had to be done. taesan stood in front of you two, a grin on his lips while tears streamed down his face. his arm was out, revealing a bite mark. the veins near the wound had already turned black. he would’ve turned in a few hours.

“go out.” those were leehan’s first words to you since that night in the convenience store.

you remember the last thing you told taesan before you left the room—you’ll get to your safe haven. the sobs that spilled out of him are ones you’ll never forget. and when you shut the door behind you, it took 20 seconds until you heard a gunshot. 

the weight got heavier once more.

another two weeks went by, and you and leehan found yourselves standing in front of the remains of a safe haven. the fences were torn down. streaks of dark red littered over pavements. not a single sight of a soul lived.

still, you two trudged your way through the town, all the way until you reached leehan’s house. like others, his was abandoned. the cream walls were littered with red strokes and vines. when you both entered, you didn’t miss how leehan’s eyes lingered on a photo hung on the wall—a picture of him and his parents.

you gave him all the time he needed to explore, to sit with the mess, while you stayed in the living room. as you sat on the couch that had gathered dust, you caught sight of a bowl of plastic produce that rested on the coffee table. it held a variety of fruits whose paint had chipped: watermelon, chestnut, and fig.

but amidst the crowd of old, torn-down, plastic fruits, a pear and an orange leaned against each other as grime collected on them. once your hands reached out to the fruits, you pulled them apart—a mess of green and orange stained the two.

he came back to you in 30 minutes, eyes glistening with tears. yet, he only gave you a nod, and you two went to another house. 

you then stood in front of your old house with leehan by your side. weeds grew in the front yard, and the wooden exterior has turned a few shades darker. silence settled between you two. 

to be back in a place you grew up in, where all your memories live, is a process—a grieving one. being face-to-face with the damage brought by the infected can only remind you of what you had and could’ve had.

and once you made your way to your childhood room, you were reminded of all your hopes and dreams before the outbreak. dust rested on top of books. the laptop on your desk had no charge. potted plants have withered.

when you approached the picture frames found on your table, your hand darted out to a photograph of you and sungho. there was no occasion when that picture was taken—the fact that you two were together was enough for it to be remembered. memorialized.

as you made your way back down the stairs, you saw leehan crouched in front of the console table with eyes trained on photographs. “was this your high school graduation?” you approached him and saw the picture he was referring to, you who stood beside sungho with a big grin as his lips were on your temple.

“yeah,” you said as you crouched beside leehan. “we knew each other back when i was a freshman.” your fingers trailed on the wooden frame, gathering the dust before flicking it away. despite your efforts, it was still covered in grime, but you didn’t mind. 

“and you stayed together since?” all you did was hum. “did you find anything up there?”

for the first time since you entered your old house, you looked at leehan and he met your gaze. your eyes trailed his features. the eyes that speak of a thousand words. the lips that once kissed yours.

and it hit you like the gunshot that filled your ears, the breeze that rustled the leaves that one night, the doors that shut close. it was 20 months since the outbreak happened, 13 months since you lost sungho, and 11 months since jaehyun told you his last words.

but it was also 13 months spent with leehan, choosing to survive with him. 

“yeah.”

you found a lot of things within those four walls. there were books you once read growing up, stuffed toys you slept with, and the one picture of you and sungho; they’re the remaining pieces you have left of a life that was good.

you would’ve kept it all, rebuilt the life that was ripped away by the hands of the infected—

“but nothing to hold on to.”

they’re memories, ones you’ll carry with you, but ones worth moving on from. 

“oh,” he said as his eyes still held your gaze. “okay.”

and with one exhale, you said, “let’s rebuild it, just a place for us two.”

it was a whirlwind of emotions in leehan’s eyes, ones you can’t identify. for a moment, you thought he’d say no. maybe he decided that 13 months was enough. one more day with you would be too much, and—

“okay.” when his hand reached out for yours, linking fingers with you like all other times, you gave him a small smile.

when you and leehan stood up, you made your way out of the house, off to find a place just for you two—a safe haven to last you many tomorrows with him.

a month passed. the safe haven was rebuilt; the fences stood strong with electrical wires and barbed wires, and the town was cleaned of all remnants of grime and blood. the two of you took up different tasks ranging from cleaning, cooking, building, and maintaining the haven.

but while you were okay with a knife, accidents did happen. “fuck!”

“what happened?” you remember how leehan came rushing in, only to see you pressing on the skin around the cut on your finger.

before you knew it, you were sitting down with him as he wrapped gauze around the wound. “leehan, it’s just a cut. i’ll be fine.”

“still, i don’t want you getting hurt.” you watched how his eyes were focused on treating your finger. “i’ll be in charge of cooking now.”

you shook your head. “no, i like to cook. i want to cook for us.” his gaze then met yours, his filled with worry while yours filled with determination. they flickered back to your finger and his hands busied themselves with covering it up.

once he was done, his hand continued to hold yours. you remember the heat of his thumb as it drew patterns on your hand. he’s etched himself onto you.

his eyes met yours once more, and he said, “okay, just let me help out.” all you gave him was a nod.

another month went by, and you woke up to the sound of gunshots. you remember how hazy your vision was that night, fresh from sleep but panic coursing through your veins. and when you looked beside you to only see an empty spot, you didn’t think twice about rushing out of bed.

when you exited the house, you saw leehan holding his gun, firing at the people who attempted to tear down the haven’s fences. “leehan!” he looked back at you and you caught sight of the crimson that poured out of his abdomen.

another gunshot was fired, grazing leehan’s leg, and he fell to his knees. you ran to him, reaching out to rest your hand on the wound as you began to sob. “fuck! you have to stay with me.” with his arm resting around your shoulders, you dragged him back to the house.

you set him on the table and moved his hand to hold where he was shot. “hold it.” you rushed to where the medical supplies were stored and gathered whatever you could hold. when you got back, you saw how blood continued to spill out.

you got to work, focused on trying to patch him up, making sure he stays. “you can’t go. i won’t let it happen.” and while your hands busied themselves with treating the injury, you remember how leehan’s hand caressed your cheek, thumb wiping away the spilled tears. 

“in the basement, there’s a piece of paper that has all the codes. if you ever—”

“no, you’ll be okay.”

still, he continued to talk. “if you ever forget the codes, you can always look at the paper. don’t forget that you need to always check the water system every two days, and—”

“leehan!” you croaked out his name in between sobs. “you’ll be okay. you have to, okay?” the more he went on about what to keep in mind, the baggage got heavier. “i can’t do this without you. i won’t allow it.”

because 15 months ago, you would’ve bid farewell to the mayhem. 13 months ago, you hoped for time to drag you away. 12 months ago, you would’ve walked into the forest. but it’s been 22 months, and you were still walking on this earth, choosing to live amidst the chaos—so long as leehan was with you. 

and when you leaned your forehead on his, eyes closed, you felt his breath graze against your lips. “i need you.”

all it took were three words from you. “okay.”

it’s been two months since that happened. the safe haven was rebuilt once more. you and leehan fortified the defense system, hoping they’ll be enough to keep any infected and raiders out. all that matters is that you two were protected—safe—from the chaos.

now, you sit on a couch as you flip through the pages of a book you didn’t have time to read before the outbreak. when all responsibilities vanished, you were able to find enough time to do things you couldn’t do then.

you were ready to get yourself sucked into the world of the novel, but leehan came into the living room with his hands behind his back and a small smile on his lips. “do you remember what you made me promise you before?”

you frown at him, confused, until he shows you an acoustic guitar. “oh my god, you found one?” you put the book on the coffee table.

he takes a seat beside you, body facing towards you as he rests the instrument on his lap. “here, front-row tickets to my first show.” you almost laughed because this is no stadium or club, but a home—one you built with him.

it takes only one smile from him for you to hold it back.

“any song requests?” he strums on the guitar strings, perfectly in tune. it’s almost as if he tuned it before coming to you.

a hum leaves you as you rest your head on your hand propped on the couch. “whatever you want to show me.”

it takes him a few seconds, fingers fiddling with the strings, until he figures out what to play. when he sings out the words—dearest, darling, my universe—you melt like the candles you lit up those nights. as he continues to play a song of a world in hysteria but a love that endures, that’s when you realize what you’ve had all this time.

time is the one thing that occupies your mind. it holds value, something that shouldn’t be wasted, and you learned to revolve your life around it.

it takes you two years to figure out that life doesn’t end after the outbreak—and 17 months to realize that your safe haven is not a two-story house with an orange tree in the garden but the boy in front of you.

when you lean closer to him, his fingers falter, messing up the chords. your hand reaches out to caress his face as your eyes flicker to his lips. you don’t miss how leehan holds his breath, how he stops playing the guitar, how his eyes look back at yours—it’s a slurry of warmth. tenderness.

“i love you.”

all it took was a three-word phrase from you for him to close the distance.

the warmth that spreads within you is like the one you experience in the abandoned cabin. but now, you’re full of hope—a reason to stay—in an infected-ridden world.

now, only one question echoes within your mind: how much longer do we have?

an eternity is what you hope.

tag list: @onedoornet @kflixnet @loserlvrss @lionhanie @nicholasluvbot

@blumisiu @0310s @icyminghao @shegotthewoobies

[lila-lou]

✨His second exception - Pt. 8/?✨

Summary: The moment Ben found out you were pregnant was probably the happiest moment of his life. However, happiness proved fleeting. Now, he is faced with the aftermath of his shattered dreams. Of what is left of you, and what is left of him.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: Language, fluff, hurt/angst

Word Count: 7022

A/N: This is the sequel to “His only exeption” - and Part 8 of "His second exception".

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

A few days later, your mom and dad came over for a visit. You tried your best to hide everything that could hint at your relationship with Ben. As you put away the last picture of you and Ben, the doorbell rang.

Taking a deep breath, you opened the door to find your parents standing there, their eyes wide as they took in the sight of your home. It wasn’t a villa, but it was certainly impressive—Ben had bought it for the two of you. You knew you’d have to come up with a convincing story if they asked how you ended up in such a nice place.

“Hi, Mom, Dad”, you greeted them with a smile, stepping aside to let them in. “Come on in”.

They stepped inside, looking around appreciatively. “This is a beautiful place”, your mom said, her eyes sweeping over the elegant decor. “How did you manage to get a house like this?”.

You had prepared for this moment, trying to keep your story as close to the truth as possible without revealing too much. “Well, when I started working with the team, I got a significant pay raise and a bonus. I decided to invest in a nicer place. I wanted something comfortable and safe”.

Your dad raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further, which you took as a good sign. “It’s very nice”, he said, his tone still carrying a hint of skepticism but also admiration. “I’m glad you’re doing well for yourself”.

“Thanks, Dad”, you said, leading them to the living room where you had prepared some snacks and drinks. “Please, make yourselves at home”.

As they settled in, you did your best to keep the conversation light and casual, talking about mundane topics like work and the neighborhood. Your mom complimented your taste in decor, and your dad seemed genuinely impressed by the house.

Just as you were starting to relax, your phone buzzed with a message. You glanced at it, seeing Ben’s name on the screen. Your heart skipped a beat, but you quickly placed the phone face down on the table, hoping your parents didn’t notice.

“So, how’s work going?”, your mom asked, taking a sip of her tea. “Anything exciting happening?”.

You nodded, trying to keep your focus. “It’s been busy, but it’s going well. We’re working on some important projects”.

“That’s good to hear”, your dad said, leaning back in his chair. “I’m glad you’re finding success”.

The conversation continued smoothly, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of tension, knowing you were walking a fine line between honesty and secrecy. Every time your phone buzzed, your heart raced a little faster, but you managed to keep your composure.

Eventually, when you were in the kitchen preparing dinner, your mom joined you, while your dad watched the football game in the living room. She seemed hesitant but determined to talk, her eyes soft with concern as she approached the topic she had inadvertently upset you with the other day.

“I didn’t mean to upset you the other day”, she said gently, watching you as you chopped the vegetables. “You can take your time, there’s no rush”.

You stopped cutting the vegetables, the knife still in your hand, and looked at her. The pain you had been trying to hide was evident on your face, and you could see her expression change to one of deeper concern and empathy.

“Mom, it’s not just about taking my time”, you began, your voice thick with emotion. “There’s something I haven’t told you”.

She stepped closer, her hand reaching out to touch your arm. “What is it, sweetheart? You know you can tell me anything”.

You took a deep breath, gathering the strength to share the painful truth. “A few months ago, I found out I was pregnant”, you began, your voice trembling. “But… I lost the baby”.

Your mom’s eyes widened in shock and sorrow, and she quickly wrapped her arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry”, she murmured, her voice choked with emotion. “I had no idea”.

Your mom held you close for quite a while, her embrace warm and comforting. A few tears escaped your eyes, but you felt more relieved than sad. The weight of the secret you had been carrying was finally lifting, and sharing it with her brought a sense of peace you hadn’t expected.

Eventually, she pulled back slightly, still holding your arms as she looked at you with concern. “Was it planned?”, she asked gently, her voice filled with understanding. “And who is the father?”.

You took a deep breath, feeling the need to be honest. “No, it wasn’t planned”, you admitted. “But when I found out, I was ready to make it work”.

Your mom nodded slowly, absorbing your words. “And the father?”, she asked gently.

You hesitated, struggling to find the right way to explain. “I have a boyfriend”, you said finally, your voice trembling slightly. "But I haven't introduced you to him yet".

She nodded thoughtfully, her eyes searching yours. "Is there a reason why we haven't met him?", she asked softly, concern evident in her tone. "Is everything okay between you two?".

You sighed, knowing you owed her an explanation but unsure of how much to reveal. "It's complicated", you began cautiously. "We've been through a lot together, and he means a lot to me. But with everything that's happened recently, I haven't found the right time to bring him around".

Your mom nodded again, her understanding growing. "I see", she said gently. "Just know that whenever you're ready, we're here to support you. And we'd love to meet him whenever you feel comfortable".

You nodded gratefully, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders knowing she wasn't pressing for details. "Thank you, Mom".

She gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. "Of course, sweetheart. We just want you to be happy".

With that, you both returned to preparing dinner, the conversation easing into lighter topics.

After a while of lighter conversation and a sense of relief settling in, your mom nudged you gently, a mischievous glint in her eye. “So”, she began casually, “is he handsome?”.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at her persistence. “Yes, Mom”, you replied with a teasing smile. “He’s handsome”.

She raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Hmm, and how did you two meet?”.

You hesitated briefly, considering how much to share. “We met through work”, you said carefully.

Her excitement grew, her eyes lighting up. “Does that mean he kills supes too?”.

You swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in your throat. “Yes, he does”, you said cautiously.

Your mom's excitement grew even more. “How old is he?”, she asked, clearly eager to know more about this mysterious boyfriend of yours.

You nearly choked on your own spit at the question. The age difference was a complicated topic, considering you were just in your twenties and Ben was technically in his early forties, though his time frozen in Russia made it even more complex.

“Uh”, you began, trying to find the best way to explain it without revealing too much. “He’s… a bit older than me”.

Your mom raised an eyebrow, her curiosity only increasing. “How much older?”.

You took a deep breath, deciding to be as vague as possible. “He’s in his forties”, you said carefully, hoping that would satisfy her without prompting more questions.

To your surprise, your mom didn’t seem too fazed by the age difference. Instead, she looked thoughtful for a moment before nodding. “Well, as long as he treats you well and makes you happy, that’s what matters”.

You felt a wave of relief wash over you. “He does, Mom. He really does”.

She smiled, reaching out to squeeze your hand. “I’m glad to hear that, sweetheart. Just remember, we’re always here for you if you need anything”.

“Thanks, Mom”, you replied.

As the evening continued, you enjoyed the time with your parents, the atmosphere lighter and more relaxed.

After an hour, you set the table as dinner was almost ready. Your dad stood by with a beer in his hand, while your mom placed the napkins. Just then, the front door swung open, and Ben stormed in, his supe suit covered in mud and blood, his face streaked with grime. His hair was tousled, and his bloodied shield hung loosely from his hand.

“I fucking swear, if there’s another man inside my fucking house—”, Ben’s voice boomed through the hallway, but he stopped mid-threat as he rounded the corner and saw the three of you in the dining room. The shock on his face was mirrored by your parents, who stood frozen in place.

For a moment, the room was silent, the tension palpable. You could see the confusion and fear in your parents’ eyes as they took in Ben’s appearance.

Your mom and dad looked shocked, their eyes darting between you and Ben. Finally, Ben broke the silence, pointing at your parents with his bloodied shield still in hand, his eyebrow furrowed in annoyance. “Who are those?”, he asked, his voice carrying a mix of irritation and confusion.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “Ben, these are my parents”, you said, your voice calm but firm. “Mom, Dad, this is Ben”.

Your dad’s face darkened with a mix of anger and disbelief. “Soldier Boy?”, he said, almost spitting out the name. “You’re with Soldier Boy?”.

Ben’s eyes narrowed, his grip on the shield tightening. “Is there a problem?”, he asked, his tone challenging.

Your mom stepped forward, her expression a mix of concern and anger. “We were just having a nice family dinner”, she said, her voice shaking slightly. “We didn’t expect… this”.

Ben looked at you. “You didn’t tell them?”, he asked, a hint of hurt in his voice.

You shook your head, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on you. “I was going to, but… it’s complicated”.

Your dad stepped forward, his face flushed with anger. “Complicated?”, he nearly shouted, his voice rising in a way you had rarely heard. “You’re involved with a fucking supe? And out of all of them, with fucking Soldier Boy?".

Ben’s eyes flared with anger, and he stepped closer to your dad, his own voice rising. “Stop fucking yelling at her!”, he shouted back, his presence imposing and intense.

Your father’s face reddened even more, and he stood his ground, his own anger matching Ben’s. “I’m her father! I can yell at her whenever I want!”, he roared.

You felt the tension in the room reach a breaking point, the air thick with anger and fear. Desperately, you stepped between them, raising your hands to push them apart. “Enough!”, you yelled, your voice breaking through the cacophony. “Both of you, stop it!”.

You looked at Ben, his anger still simmering beneath the surface. Seeing the desperation in your eyes, he took a deep breath, trying not to lose his temper. You gently touched Ben’s forearm, feeling the dried blood under your fingers. “Why don’t you take a shower, and we’ll talk when you’re done?”, you suggested, your voice shaking slightly.

Ben’s eyes softened a bit, the tension in his muscles easing just a little. He glanced at your parents, then back at you, and nodded reluctantly. “Alright”, he muttered, his voice low and controlled.

Ben turned around, letting the shield drop with a loud thud onto the wooden floor in the hallway. The sound echoed through the house, adding to the already tense atmosphere. He made his way upstairs to get a shower, leaving you and your parents standing in the kitchen, the weight of the situation pressing down on all of you.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. “I know this is a lot to take in”, you said, looking at your parents.

Your mom looked at you with a raised eyebrow, her expression a mix of disbelief and concern. “A lot to take in?”, she repeated, her voice snapping with anger. “Baby, out of all men, why him?! He’s a supe, damn it! He’s a misogynist asshole who’s screwed every woman he’s ever walked into, probably has all the venereal diseases that exist. He’s killed so many people, humans! He’s not a good man!”.

You flinched at her words, feeling the weight of her judgment. In your distress, you had momentarily forgotten about Ben’s super hearing. Even in the shower, he could hear every single word your mother was saying.

The tension in the room was palpable. You glanced at your dad, who looked equally troubled but remained silent, his face a mask of concern and confusion.

“Mom, I know his past is… complicated”, you began, struggling to find the right words. “But he’s not that person anymore”.

Your mom crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing. “And you think you can change him? You think love will fix all of that? Honey, people like him don’t just change”.

Then, your mom’s eyes widened even further, her expression one of shock and anger. “Wait, you’re telling me that asshole got you pregnant?”, she exclaimed.

Your dad choked on his beer, his face turning red as he coughed. “You’re fucking pregnant?!”, he yelled, his voice echoing through the house.

You felt your heart start to beat faster, a mix of emotions swirling inside you—upset, pissed, sad, all of it. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the tension in the room was overwhelming.

“Not anymore”, you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I lost the baby”.

The room fell silent, the weight of your words settling heavily. Your dad looked like he had been punched in the gut, his eyes wide with shock.

With red-rimmed eyes, you gathered your strength to defend Ben. “You don’t understand”, you began, your voice trembling but determined. “Ben did everything he could to be there for me. He took care of me in ways I never could have imagined. He’s saved my life more times than I can count”.

You paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. “Even before we were together, he was always there, protecting me. He’s risked everything for me, and he loves me. I know his past isn’t perfect, but he’s trying to change, to be better”.

Your parents exchanged a look, the anger and fear in their expressions slowly giving way to a more thoughtful silence. They were processing your words, trying to reconcile the image they had of Soldier Boy with the man you were describing.

“I just want you to understand that he’s not the same person he used to be”, you said, your voice softer now. “He’s trying, and he’s been there for me through everything. I love him, and he loves me. That’s all that matters”.

Your parents exchanged another glance, their expressions slowly shifting from anger to contemplation. Just then, Ben stepped back into the room, now clean, his hair still wet. He was wearing a pair of sweatpants and a simple black shirt, which made him look less intimidating than before.

Ben paused for a moment, taking in the tense atmosphere.

There was again a heavy silence, the weight of the unspoken words hanging in the air. No one seemed to know how to approach the topic again, the tension palpable. You sighed, turning your attention back to the oven. “Can we just eat first, please?”, you mumbled, taking the roast out and setting it on the counter.

Your mom nodded slowly, her eyes still wary but softening slightly. “Of course”, she said, stepping forward to help you with the dishes. Your dad remained silent, his gaze shifting between you and Ben, his expression unreadable.

Ben moved to the table. His movements were careful, almost hesitant, as if he was trying to navigate the fragile situation without causing further tension. You appreciated his effort, a small gesture that showed he was willing to try.

As everyone settled at the table, the atmosphere remained heavy.

The dinner remained quiet, the clinking of cutlery and the soft sounds of chewing the only noises filling the room. Ben kept his eyes on his plate, acutely aware of the intense gazes from your parents.

After a while, your mom finally broke the silence, watching Ben intently. “So, you don’t remember us, huh?”, she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity and something else, something deeper.

Ben looked up, a questioning look on his face. “Should I?", he grumbled.

Your mom finished the rest of her wine in one gulp before crossing her arms. “I was your PA in the eighties. Well, one of them”.

Ben’s eyes narrowed as he studied her face. Slowly, his eyebrows went up in recognition. “Wait, we didn’t—”. He cut himself off, gesturing with his finger between her and himself, a look of realization dawning.

Your mom’s expression twisted in disgust. “Ew, no! You were all about Monica”.

You could see the wheels in Ben’s head spinning, trying to piece together the memories. “Yeah, right. Monica”, he said slowly, the name sparking a faint memory. After another short pause, his eyes widened. “You’re Mary?”.

Your mom nodded, a small, tight smile on her face. “And Frank”, she added, nodding toward your dad.

Ben chuckled, a hint of genuine amusement breaking through the tension. “No shit! You two got fucking old”.

Your dad bristled slightly, but your mom just rolled her eyes. “It’s been a long time”, she said, her voice softening slightly.

You bit your lip, not sure how to react. The tension in the room was palpable, and you felt caught between two worlds. Ben leaned back slightly, crossing his arms, his demeanor shifting to one of guarded curiosity. “Then why are you so mad at me? I always liked you. Both of you. I always treated you good”, he said, his voice firm and unwavering.

Your mom’s eyes narrowed, her sassiness returning as she pointed out the obvious. “Ben, it’s not just about how you treated us. It’s about your lifestyle—your drug and alcohol addiction, the countless women, your misogynistic attitude. You were like every other supe, doing more harm than good”.

Your dad chimed in, his voice filled with grumbling anger and a dismissive hand gesture. “And now screwing my daughter”.

“Dad!”, you squeaked, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. The room fell silent again, the tension thickening with each passing second.

Ben’s gaze remained steady, though his jaw tightened at your father’s words.

Again, there was silence. No one knew what to do or say. Ben’s jaw remained clenched, a clear sign that he wasn’t willing to back down. The tension in the room felt almost palpable, with everyone at a loss for how to proceed.

Finally, Ben broke the silence, his voice steady and firm. “I get it. I get why you’re angry. But I’m not the same person I used to be. I’m trying to change, and I’m doing it because I love her”. He gestured towards you.

You bit your lip as Ben said that he loved you. It was still very rare to hear it from him, and even more rare for him to say it in front of people. The moment felt heavy with significance, but your dad’s voice broke through, his tone slightly less aggressive but probing.

“Did you lose the baby because it wasn’t planned?”, your dad asked, his words hinting at an accusation that Ben might have had something to do with it.

That’s when Ben lost it. His eyes flashed with anger, and he stood up, his posture rigid with fury. “Are you for fucking real right now?”, he snapped, his voice a mix of rage and hurt. “I loved that baby. The only thing I love more is her”, he pointed to you, his voice cracking slightly. “It meant everything to me, and to get accused of something like that…”.

Ben’s voice trailed off, the raw emotion in his words cutting through the tension in the room. You could see the pain etched on his face, the anguish of being misunderstood and accused of something so hurtful.

You felt a surge of anger and hurt, your emotions boiling over as you turned to your dad. “How could you even suggest that?”, you snapped, your voice shaking. “Do you have any idea how much we both wanted that baby? How much it meant to us?”.

Your dad’s expression softened, but he looked taken aback by your outburst. “I didn’t mean it like that”, he started, but you cut him off, unable to hold back your frustration.

“No, you did mean it like that”, you retorted. “You implied that Ben was somehow responsible. He’s been through hell trying to support me and cope with our loss. We both have”.

Your mom looked at you with concern, stepping forward. “We just don’t want you to get hurt”, she said softly.

You shook your head, your eyes filling with tears. “I’m already hurt”, you said, your voice cracking. “Both of us are”, you whispered, looking over at Ben. His jaw clenched further, and you could see the effort it took for him to maintain his composure. The tension in his muscles was palpable, and you knew he was holding back an immense amount of anger and frustration.

Your dad sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry”, he grumbled, his voice low. “I just want to make sure he’s treating you right, not poorly”.

“I understand, Dad. But Ben isn’t like that. Not with me”.

Your dad looked at Ben, his eyes narrowing slightly. “How did you even manage to get her pregnant? Supes can’t make babies”, he said, his tone a mix of confusion and curiosity.

You felt your cheeks flush with a mix of embarrassment and frustration. “Actually, Dad”, you began, glancing at Ben, who looked equally puzzled. “Mom and you explained it to me a few days ago”.

Ben’s confusion deepened as he looked at you. “What are you talking about?”.

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the explanation you were about to give. “Apparently, I was born with traces of Compound V in my system. My parents said it was because they worked closely with you back in the day, and some of it lingered in the environment”.

Ben’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Wait, what?”.

You nodded, feeling a strange mix of emotions as you recounted the story. “Yeah, and to prevent me from developing powers or being affected by the V, my parents took me to an organization of doctors who tried to neutralize it. They shot me up with all kinds of stuff to get rid of the V traces in my body”.

Your dad nodded, looking slightly uncomfortable as he added, “We didn’t want her to end up like the other kids who were experimented on. We thought we were doing what was best for her”.

Ben took a moment to process everything, his eyes flicking between you and your parents. “So, you’re saying that because of this… combination of Compound V traces and whatever those doctors used, it made it possible for us to have a baby?”.

You nodded slowly. “Well, that’s what I think. Somehow, it must have switched something in my system, allowing me to get pregnant.”

Your Dad thought about it, and it sure made sense.

Ben thought about it for a moment too, then nodded slowly. “That would explain why my blood never killed or turned you”, he said, the realization dawning on him.

“Your blood?”, your mother asked, her voice filled with shock and concern. “What are you talking about?”.

You sighed, realizing this was another piece of the puzzle your parents didn’t know about. “Ben’s blood has healing properties”, you explained. “Whenever I got hurt, he used his blood to heal me. It worked without any adverse effects because of the Compound V traces in my system”.

Your dad looked at Ben, his expression a mix of disbelief and curiosity. “So, you used your blood to heal her?”.

Ben nodded. “Yes. I didn’t know about the Compound V traces until now, but it makes sense why it worked without any issues”.

There was another heavy silence as everyone absorbed the new information. Finally, your mom clapped her hands on her thighs, breaking the tension. “So”, she began, her voice laced with both disappointment and a hint of resignation, “what’s the plan now? Soldier Boy over there doesn’t look like he’ll let you go that quickly”.

You could sense her reluctance, but there was also a willingness to try and make this work. It was a small step, but it meant the world to you.

Ben glanced at you, then back at your mom, his expression softening. “You’re right. I’m not letting her go. I love her, and I want to be with her”.

Your mom sighed deeply, her disappointment still evident, but she nodded. “I guess we’ll have to figure out how to make this work then”.

Your dad, though still skeptical, seemed to be coming to terms with the situation. “As long as you take care of her and make sure she’s safe”, he said, his voice gruff but sincere, “that’s all we ask”.

You felt a wave of relief wash over you. It wasn’t a complete resolution, but it was a start. “Thank you”, you said, your voice full of gratitude. “I know this is a lot to take in, and it means a lot that you’re willing to try”.

Your dad sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he stood up from the table. “We better get going”, he mumbled, glancing at your mom. “This has been a lot to take in for just one evening”.

Your mom nodded in agreement, standing up as well. “Yes, it’s been quite the night”, she said, her voice still tinged with lingering worry but also a note of acceptance. “We’ll talk more soon”.

You walked them to the door, feeling a mix of emotions. Relief that they were willing to try, anxiety about the future, and a deep gratitude for their effort to understand.

“Thanks for coming”, you said, giving your mom a tight hug. “I really appreciate it”.

She hugged you back just as tightly. “We love you, sweetheart. We just want you to be happy”.

Your dad gave you a gruff nod, then turned to Ben. “Remember what I said”, he warned, his tone serious but not hostile.

Ben nodded firmly. “I will. You have my word”.

As they left, you closed the door behind them and let out a long breath. The evening had been exhausting, but you felt a sense of hope. Turning to Ben, you saw that he looked equally relieved and tired.

“Well, that was something”, you said, trying to inject a bit of humor into the situation.

Ben rolled his eyes and pulled you gently into his arms, holding you close. He missed you way too much, but the words wouldn’t leave his lips. Instead, he mumbled, “Your parents are fucking strenuous”.

You giggled against his chest, the sound muffled by his shirt. “I know, they… they just hate supes”.

Ben grumbled something sarcastic, “Yeah, that was pretty obvious”. He sighed deeply, resting his chin on your head. “But they care about you, and I get that. Just didn’t expect to have my past thrown in my face like that”.

You smiled up at Ben, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Well, you can’t really blame them, can you? You do have quite the reputation”, you teased lightly, poking his chest playfully.

Ben raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Oh, so now you’re on their side?”.

You chuckled, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I didn’t say that. I’m just saying that you can be a bit… intense”.

He let out a huff of mock indignation. “Intense, huh? I’ll show you intense”.

With a swift motion, he picked you up and carried you over to the couch, plopping down with you on his lap. You laughed, squirming a bit, but his strong arms kept you firmly in place.

“Alright, alright”, you giggled, trying to catch your breath. “You win. You’re very intense, and very strong”.

Ben’s smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Damn right. And don’t you forget it”.

You shook your head, still smiling. “I won’t. But you know, sometimes a little softness wouldn’t hurt”.

Ben rolled his eyes, but he knew that you needed exactly that from time to time. With a soft, playful push, he guided you down onto the couch and hovered above you, his presence both comforting and thrilling. He started kissing your neck, his lips warm and tender against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

You couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh, the intimacy of the moment juxtaposed with the absurdity of the thought that had just crossed your mind. “I’m just glad you never had something with my mom back in the day”, you mumbled, your voice tinged with a mix of amusement and relief. “The thought alone grosses me out”.

Ben paused, pulling back slightly to look at you with an incredulous expression. “Your mom? Seriously?”. He shook his head, a grin spreading across his face. “Trust me, I had my hands full back then, but not that full”.

You laughed, the sound light and free. “Good to know”, you said, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair. “Because that would have been really weird”.

Ben kissed you again, but you pushed him away softly. "So who´s Monica?", you grinned and raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, shut up", he grumbled with a smirk and silenced you with his lips.

Ben’s kisses trailed down over your breasts, his fingers deftly unbuttoning your shirt. His touch was gentle but sure, a reminder of the connection you shared. You felt his warmth spreading through you, the tension from the evening slowly melting away.

As he reached the last button, you mumbled softly, “I’m glad you’re back”.

Ben paused, looking up at you with a smile that was both tender and filled with an unspoken promise.

You reached up, running your fingers through his hair as he resumed his kisses, moving lower with a slow, deliberate pace. His lips and hands explored your skin, each touch igniting a spark of desire that made you feel alive and connected.

Ben kissed down your stomach, his lips lingering over your skin as his fingers reached for the waistband of your jeans. Just as he was about to unbutton them, you tugged gently on his hair, your voice soft but firm. “I have an appointment tomorrow to get an IUD”, you mumbled. “So unless you have a condom, we can’t do anything”.

Ben stopped, pushing himself up to look at you, his disappointment evident in his eyes. The mood shifted, the intimacy giving way to tension. His jaw tightened, a flicker of anger crossing his features.

“You’re getting an IUD?”, he asked, his voice low and strained. “And you didn’t think to tell me before now?”.

You bit your lip, feeling a mix of guilt and frustration. “I told you I wasn’t ready for another baby, Ben. We talked about this”.

“We talked about it”, he repeated, his voice rising slightly. “But you didn’t mention anything about getting an IUD. That’s a pretty big decision to make on your own”.

You sat up, pulling your shirt closed. “I thought it was the best thing for now. We’re still dealing with so much, and I’m not ready for the possibility of another pregnancy”.

Ben’s eyes narrowed, his temper flaring. “So, you just decided to take control of everything without even discussing it with me?”.

You felt a wave of guilt, knowing how much this topic meant to him. You sighed, trying to find the right words. “Because I know how you would react”, you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper.

Ben sat up, his expression shifting from anger to hurt. The pain in his eyes was unmistakable, and it cut deep. “You didn’t trust me enough to talk about it”, he said, his voice strained with emotion. “You thought I’d just blow up and not understand”.

You reached out, placing a hand on his arm. “It’s not that I don’t trust you. I just… I was afraid. Afraid that talking about it would make everything worse. That you’d be upset, and we’d end up fighting”.

He looked at you, his eyes searching yours for a long moment. “I get that you’re scared. But I lost a baby too, remember? I don’t want to be left out of these decisions”.

You looked down at your hands, feeling even worse for not asking him what he thought about it. The weight of your decision felt heavier now, knowing how much it hurt him. Ben sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair.

“I really want a baby with you”, he mumbled, his voice thick with emotion. Admitting this out loud seemed to be incredibly difficult for him. “It’s hard for me to say it, but it’s true. I want to build a life with you, a family. And I thought… I thought that was something we both wanted”.

You felt a lump form in your throat, your heart aching at his words. “I do want that, Ben. I want it so much. But I’m scared. We’ve been through so much, and I don’t know if I can handle losing another baby”.

Ben reached out, lifting your chin so you could meet his gaze. His eyes were filled with a mix of determination and vulnerability. “You won’t lose another baby”, he said firmly. “We have the V medication, and I will protect you, both of you. I won’t let anything ever happen to you again”.

The pain of your previous loss still hung heavy between you, an unspoken shadow that loomed over every decision and every moment. While you had pushed the topic of another baby as far away as possible in an attempt to heal, Ben had found solace in the hope of building a family, of healing through the joy of new life.

His words were filled with a promise, a reassurance that he would do everything in his power to keep you safe. You could see the depth of his love and commitment in his eyes, and it brought a sense of comfort and hope that you hadn’t felt in a long time.

“I know you want to protect me”, you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. “And I’m so grateful for that. But I need time to heal, to be ready for this".

Ben sighed deeply and leaned back, closing his eyes as his head fell back against the couch. He knew he couldn’t force you into another pregnancy, and the realization weighed heavily on him. The frustration of not being on the same page was palpable, but his love for you was strong enough to keep him from pressuring you. Despite this, every day without you being pregnant seemed to magnify his own pain of loss.

He opened his eyes and looked at you, a mixture of sadness and understanding in his gaze. “I get it. I really do”, he said softly. “I just… I miss what we had, what we were planning. But… I won’t push you”.

Ben was used to getting what he wanted. It wasn’t until he met you that he found himself challenged in a way he had never experienced before. It was one of the reasons he loved you so much—you were strong and stood your ground, even against him. That strength commanded his respect. But still, you were a fucking pain in his ass.

You mumbled a quiet “Thank you”, your voice barely audible. Ben sighed again, his arm widening in a gesture for you to come closer. You nestled against him, finding comfort in his warmth and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

For a moment, you both stayed silent, wrapped in the shared understanding of your pain and the complicated path ahead. Ben’s fingers traced soothing patterns on your back, grounding you in the present.

You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. “I promise, we´ll try for another baby”, you mumbled, your voice soft but sincere. “Even three if you want to”. You paused, a small smile tugging at your lips. “But I just need a little more time… and maybe a ring on my finger first”.

Ben tensed instantly, the words taking him by surprise. He had always wanted to settle down, to have a family and a stable life, but hearing it from your mouth made it feel more real. He pulled back slightly to look at you, his eyes wide with a mix of emotions—shock, hope, and something deeper.

“Are you serious?”, he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded. “Yes, I’m serious. I want to be with you, Ben. I want to build a life together, but I need to know we’re both ready for it”.

For a moment, Ben was silent, processing your words. Then, a slow, genuine smile spread across his face. “I never thought I’d hear you say that”, he admitted, his voice tinged with amazement.

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your lips as he mumbled, “Now I want to fuck you even more”. The intensity in his eyes was undeniable, filled with a raw mixture of love and desire.

Before you could respond, he cupped your face with both hands, pulling you into a rough, passionate kiss. His lips moved against yours with an urgency that made your heart race. You felt his hands travel down your body, gripping your hips as he pulled you even closer.

The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you, locked in this moment of intense connection. Ben’s kisses grew deeper, more fervent, and you found yourself responding with equal passion, your fingers tangling in his hair.

He pulled away and looked at you again, his eyes searching yours with a mix of wonder and disbelief. “You really would wanna marry me?”, he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You looked at him, puzzled by his question. “Why wouldn’t I want to?”, you replied softly, your hand reaching up to caress his cheek. “I love you, Ben. I want to spend my life with you”.

Ben stared at you, the raw vulnerability in his eyes making your heart ache. Even after months with you, he still couldn’t believe that someone could love him for just himself, without the fame or the power. He had always been seen as a weapon, a hero, or a monster, but with you, he was just Ben.

“I don’t deserve you.”

Your heart ached as you saw the depth of vulnerability in his eyes, the way he still viewed himself as unworthy. You shook your head ,firmly, your fingers gently tracing the line of his jaw.

“Don’t say that”, you said softly. “You deserve all the love in the world, Ben. You’re more than what you think you are. You’re more than your past, more than what people say about you. To me, you’re everything”.

Ben’s expression softened further, a flicker of hope igniting in his eyes. “You really mean that?”, he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief and cautious optimism.

You whispered, “Of course I do”.

With that, Ben pulled you into another kiss, his lips moving against yours with a newfound tenderness. As the kiss deepened, he gently pulled you onto his lap, his arms wrapping around you securely. The closeness of his body against yours was both comforting and exhilarating, a reminder of the strong connection you shared.

You felt his hands slide up your back, holding you tighter as he kissed you with a passion that conveyed everything he couldn’t put into words.

The world outside seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of you, entwined in each other’s arms. The intensity of your feelings for him, and his for you, was overwhelming, filling you with a sense of completeness you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Finally, when the kiss broke, you rested your forehead against his, your breaths mingling as you both tried to catch your breath. “I love you, Ben”, you whispered, your voice filled with sincerity and love.

“I love you too”, he replied, his voice rough with emotion. “And I promise, I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it to you”.

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “You don’t have to prove anything. Just be here with me, that’s all I need”.

Ben nodded, his eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and determination. “I’m not going anywhere”, he said firmly. “I’m right here, and I always will be”.

———————————

A/N: Another one of my favorite chapters. Let's see if we meet Monica one day lol.

Please let me know what you think. 🥰

-

Part 9

-

Taglist: @deangirl96, @thatgirljayy, @suckitands33, @deans-spinster-witch@mimaria420@kaz11283@uncle-eggy@jackles010378@vxnilla-hxrddrugs @meowmeowyoongles@sarahgracej @zemosdarling228 @leila22rogers @mostlymarvelgirl@emily-winchester @blacknoirr @onlyangel-444@seasonofthenerd@staple-your-mouth@artemys-ackles@selfdestructionandrhum@mystic-mara @kat-nee @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @star-yawnznn @me1501 @CheyNovaK @faephoria @hobby27 @baby19sthings @fitxgrld @winchesterwild78 @uddiifiigj @libby99hb @urgogodancer

[tin-wufborf]

Tin's Favorite Sterek Fics (Part 1)

Okay, so listen. A few months back, I mentioned the possibility of me doing a rec list of all the Sterek fics I like to re-read (basically my comfort library), right? Well, it turns out that what I thought was going to be a list of, like, 50 fics max is now, far, far, far, FAR longer than that to the point that I don't actually even have a number to provide due to the fact that I still finding more and more to add to the list. I really hate the idea putting them all in a single post--as someone who primarily engages with this site via it's mobile app, I personally find super long lists harder to navigate, especially when you lose your place and have to start from the top--soooo, I have decided to instead release my recommendations in a series of posts containing 15-20 fics/series each instead of dumping the whole library on you at once. This post marks the first of (almost certainly) many, so I hope you all enjoy!

List and links to next parts below the cut.

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DISCLAIMER: This is me warning you all that some of the fics I've included in this list may cover explicit, dark, and/or "taboo" subject matters. I cannot express enough how little I care what anyone thinks about any of that; all I want is for you to use caution when reading anything I've listed here and to please review and heed whatever tags the authors have provided in order to keep yourselves safe. Your experience from this point on is your own responsibility, not mine and not the authors'.

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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19

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The Boy Who Loved Wolves by orphan_account (NR | 1/1 | 1,522)

Stiles always loved the tamed wolves his tribe used for hunting. When he finds himself face-to-face with an actual wolf, an alpha no less, how will it change him? And how will his tribe react to his change? Based on Paul Goble's The Girl Who Loved Wild Horses.

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Will of the Weakness by Cheshyr (G | 1/1 | 2,248)

Whenever Derek threw Stiles into walls, he always assumed that the teenager didn't fight because he couldn't. Not once did he consider the possibility that Stiles was holding back.

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Making a Memory by beenwandering (M | 1/1 | 2,702)

Stiles was prepared for what would come after the bite. He knew what to expect and, despite his worries, he was ready for his new life. Apparently very ready. Or, “that one where Stiles can’t be anything other than Stiles, even when he’s a wolf."

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A Cottage in the Woods by FaeryQueen07 (G | 1/1 | 2,960)

“There’s a cottage,” Stiles’ mother says, and then she presses a kiss to his forehead before turning off the light.

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Tell Me, Are My Words Worth Less? by Cheshyr (G | 1/1 | 3,830)

Stiles is proud of his words. He loves to talk and tell and share and speak. And he absolutely, deep in his soul, hates his stutter.

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Little Lion Man by lyllytas (T | 1/1 | 5,029)

Sheriff Stilinski has just been fired from his job and is at a loss for his son's recent behavior. All he wants is the truth, so when Stiles comes to him with another crazy story, he's had enough of the jokes and lies. Unfortunately for him, this time Stiles was telling the truth. And Derek Hale is very protective of his pack.

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Love in the Groves series by Sheepnamedpig (3 works | T-E | 5,706)

1. The Oak Tree (E | 1/1 | 1,533) A forest spirit decides to take up residence in Derek's forest. 2. The Cherry Tree (E | 1/4 | 2,170) Derek and Stiles get married. And then they get married again. 3. The Ash Grove (T | 1/1 | 2,003) Stiles gets sick. Derek watches him carve the infection out.

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Knotting Expectations by chase_acow (E | 1/1 | 5,722)

Stiles gets an eyeful and suddenly getting up close and personal to a werewolf is all he can think about.

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go home, or make a home by lady_ragnell (T | 1/1 | 7,437)

In a world where Derek lets Scott kill the Alpha and get the cure, he has to figure out how to rebuild his life, with help from Stiles.

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Communication (And the Lack Thereof) by ProofOfConcept, wilddragonflying (M | 1/1 | 7,687)

Sheriff Stilinski has been waiting for this day for a long time. As he watches his visitor walking up the path, he thinks about everything that's happened in the past year and his fingers twitch for his gun. But he can't do that; he can't shoot this man, as much as he might like to sometimes. Maybe he can go one worse, though.

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Integral to Survival by placeholdr (M | 1/1 | 8,529)

Derek is in the cell for about ten minutes before the lone door opens and a new body is tossed in. The person hits the floor with a grunt, rolls, and stands as the door is clanging shut.

“That’s really not the way to treat a guest!”

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Ten Weeks by scarletsptember (T | 1/1 | 10,024)

They say no news is good news at a doctor's office. The news Stiles gets changes everything.

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adore to see your eyes fly by 1001cranes (E | 1/1 | 11,309)

stiles is a pyromanic, derek is a sociopath. a match made in some kind of heaven. teen wolf kink meme fill.

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Blood and Bonds by ProofOfConcept, wilddragonflying (NR | 1/1 | 20,595)

Stiles wants to lose his virginity, so Derek sets him up with a nice female werewolf at a pack mixer. Nine months later, the pack gets a rather stark reminder, and with it comes realizations, feeeeelings, and danger.

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Heat of the Moment by ProofOfConcept, wilddragonflying (T | 1/1 | 21,320)

I'm the alpha now.

Derek never wanted the alpha power. But now he could feel the alpha power thrumming through his veins, calling to him and the those it considered pack.

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The Wolfvengers (Are Not A '90s Boyband) series by someonelsesheart (2 works | T | 23,152)

1. Angry Birds Is Not Meant To Be Taken Literally (T | 3/3 | 12,917) Derek gets that he and Stiles are kind of on a Need To Know basis, he really does, he just thinks that Stiles' godfather being in the freaking Avengers counts as pretty Need To Know. 2. The Captain America Law (T | 3/3 | 10,235) For the record, Derek is not very fond of talking about feelings, up to and including discussing his personal life, anything that has to do with Stiles, That Time With The High Heels, and games that include having to convey feelings. On a completely unrelated note, who knew that Tony Stark owned a sexy nurse's costume?

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An Exercise in Trust by ProofOfConcept, wilddragonflying (M | 1/1 | 25,529)

Derek Hale hasn't been able to hold a steady job for quite some time, thanks to his past. When an ad is posted for a babysitting job, Derek(thanks to his experience with his large extended family) jumps at the chance to maybe start rebuilding his life.

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hyper heart alone by hito (E | 1/1 | 34,570)

When Stiles returns home to help his father recover from an injury, he discovers that things have changed somewhat in his absence: Derek is working closely with Stiles' father, around the house and underfoot, generally annoying and disconcerting Stiles with his presence.

Well, Stiles isn't sure you could call all the sex they end up having annoying, but he isn't really willing to call it anything else, either.

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By and By series by 1001cranes (3 works | T-E | 35,611)

1. hear his alibis (T | 1/1 | 6,628) creepy never looked so cute - or, how Sheriff Stiles accidentally adopted a juvenile offender. (another) pyromaniac au. 2. multiplied by seven (E | 9/9 | 26,340) Derek isn't exactly like other people. Stiles doesn't say that because he's in love with him, or whatever. He's not like Scott, who thinks Allison hung the freaking moon, or was the first girl to ever let a guy under her bra. Derek isn't like other people. Sometimes he's not exactly sane. psychopaths in love - the story from Derek & Stiles's side. companion fic to 'hear his alibis' 3. up to the highest high (E | 1/1 | 2,643) Kate takes a day to think it over, to plan her attack. She's good on her feet, but a little preplanning never hurt anyone. And if she's going to make Derek bleed, well - she needs just the right weapon. The right words. A thousand little pinpricks and cuts, because Derek isn't the type you can cut off at the knees so easily. You have to look for that dark, hidden place to plant a seed of doubt, and Kate? Kate's good at that. "He wants to be with a girl," she says. Like poisoned honey. "Or he doesn't not want it, am I right?" You think that curiosity won't get the better of him one day?" She's got her hands on him when she says it. She feels the beating of his heart, the firmness of his pectoral muscles, because, hey, this is precisely the way she swings. And Derek might keep it pretty well tucked up under his cap, but he doesn't exactly hate the female persuasion himself. Or at least he's attracted to them. Same difference in the end. "Better the devil you know," she says, and from the way Derek's gaze narrows she's got a feeling she's won.

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Blood in the Water, Fire in the Sky: A Love Story series by ahab2692 (7 works | E | 69,750)

1. God, How Things Change (E | 1/1 | 9,056) After killing Peter Hale, Derek and Stiles have to deal with the aftermath: Scott doesn't want to forgive Derek for taking away his chance for the cure, Jackson struggles with adjusting to his newfound powers, and Lydia remains in a coma. Derek has his own demons to wrestle, and the more time he spends with Stiles, the less sure he is that he'll be able to control himself.

2. The World Spins, Regardless (E | 1/1 | 11,006) Stiles helps Derek expand his pack, and the two of them take steps forward in their newfound relationship. Meanwhile, new enemies arrive in the form of a dangerous pack of werewolves from a nearby town, as well as a pair of mysterious hunters with an unknown agenda. (Sequel to "God, How Things Change.") 3. Cracks in the Foundations (E | 1/1 | 10,107) Preparing for the oncoming war with an aggressive werewolf clan, Derek and Stiles make efforts to secure their friends' safety. Derek put the pack through a rigorous training regimen, and Stiles convinces him to form a temporary alliance with the Argents. However, no one is able to foresee a shocking loss that has a devastating effect on the pack's stability. (Sequel to "The World Spins, Regardless.") 4. The Wicker Throne and the Werewolf King (E | 1/1 | 11,241) Stiles and Lydia travel to a distant mining outpost in the woods to try and kill the Alpha of the rival pack. Meanwhile, Derek and Chris Argent struggle to ensure the safety of the pack in the aftermath of Stiles' recent loss. (Sequel to "Cracks in the Foundations.") 5. Conversation (and Carnage) (E | 1/1 | 9,096) Stiles attempts to negotiate with the Alpha. Derek attempts to negotiate with Meredith Wakefield. Hidden agendas lie beneath the surface. Everything is not as it seems. (Sequel to "The Wicker Throne and the Werewolf King.") 6. ...And Hell Followed With Him (E | 1/1 | 10,080) Stiles emerges victorious as the new Alpha. Derek and Chris Argent launch their attack on Meredith Wakefield. Stiles and Lydia return home. (Sequel to "Conversation (and Carnage).") 7. God, How Things Change (Redux) (E | 1/1 | 9,164) Stiles and Derek pay a visit to their last remaining enemy. The pack recovers in the aftermath. Everything ends. Everything begins. (Sequel to "...And Hell Followed With Him".)

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[xxmayxx05]

Just the Three of us

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader x Steve Harrington

Contents: Smut 18+, oral (giving/receiving), unprotected sex (Please be safe irl), manhandling, praise kink, pet names, multiple orgasms

a/n: Hi everyone! I hope you guys like this second part of the mini series. If you guys have any recommendations of what you want to see on the third part please comment. Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated, I hope you like it. - May<3

word count: 2,8k

After two hours of hard studying everyone decided that a break was truly needed. Eddie and Steve couldn’t keep their eyes out of your beautiful curves. Robin rolled her eyes when she saw Steve putting a hand on top of your thigh, when you both were talking. Eddies gaze hardened and tried to chime into the conversation and put his hand on your other thigh. 

“I have a question for you y/n” Robin said with a little smirk, she was going to get the boys very riled up. 

“What’s up Robin?” you asked as you looked up at her. Noticing her small smirk, you knew that you had something on her mind. 

“Let’s say that hypothetically, what would happen if two boys that you like and hypothetically they like you back. Per se, what would happen?” she asked while leaning back on her arms and waited for your reply. Eddie and Steve have now sat themselves straight and waited with a lot of anticipation to your reply. 

“That is a very odd question to ask Robin” you said and kept eye contact with her. A burning sensation over came you body when you felt Steve’s and Eddie’s gazes burning through you. “I’m very open minded, if I like both and they like me as well. A trio doesn’t sound bad at all” you said and got up. “Help me serve some lemonade Robin” you said and walked to the kitchen. Hoping that the boys got the hint. 

—-

“Fuck, Harrington” Eddie whispered shouted. He couldn’t believe that you were the kind to be okay with a trio. He was surprised but then again he thought that it would be perfect. Eddie knew that Steve liked you as well but never even thought that there could be a possibility of you three becoming a trio. 

“I know Munson” Steve said quietly and looked at him. “I didn’t think she had it in her” he said surprised, deep inside he felt excited. The though of having you in bed, your body all exposed for him and Eddie. Your back arching and the sound of your sweet moans filling the room while they both made love to you; made him go crazy. 

“I would be okay with it” Eddie said quietly and looked at him. “You like her and so do I. I don’t want to keep competing over her” he said and extended his hand toward Steve. Eddie knew that  he was crazy for accepting to be in  trio but he liked you a lot, ever since he saw you for the first time. 

“Let’s keep this civil Munson” Steve agreed and shook Eddie’s hand. 

Right on time you walked in and handed one glass of lemonade to Steve. 

“Here you go” you said and sat between them again. 

“Here you go dufus” Robin said and handed one glass of lemonade to Eddie. She looked up at the clock in the living room and faked surprised. “Shit, I have to go” she said hurriedly and packed up her backpack. Leaning down quickly she hugged you and said her goodbyes to the guys. 

“Oh yeah, she had to go meet up with Max at the arcade” she said and took a sip of your lemonade and looked at both boys. Hoping that one of them would make a move just like Robin had told you in the kitchen. She plotted a small excuse so that she could go and you three could have some privacy to yourselves. 

Steve and Eddie looked at each other and leaned back against the sofa. The three of you drank your perspective lemonades and sat in silence. There was a lot of sexual tension in the living room and they didn’t know how to break it. 

“So, you are okay with being shared?” Steve asked confidently and turned to look at you. He knew that Eddie was too shy to make a move. 

“Mhm, you only live once” you said and put your glass down between you thighs. “Two is better than one, I guess” saying softly and bit your bottom lip when you felt Eddie put a hand on your left thigh. 

“It’s good to know that you think that way, we both really like you alot” Eddie said quietly and massaged your thigh softly. 

You turned your head to the left and looked at him. He was blushing softly and leaned in to peck you lips. Finally you thought. 

“He is right, love. We wouldn’t mind sharing you at all” Steve said and leaned down. He left small kisses on your exposed neck and smiled softly when you let out small moans. 

“I would love to be with the both of you” you said and leaned your head back in pleasure. Eddie had grabbed the glass between your thighs and put it aside. He leaned down and left kisses on the right side of your neck. Giving a small wink at Steve, both of them left kisses on your neck and massaged your inner thighs. 

“Can we go to my room please?” you asked quietly and caressed both of their cheeks. Leaning in to the right you pecked Steves lips and then to the left pecking Eddies. Both boys nodded their heads and got up. Carefully they helped you get up and you grabbed their hands. Leading them upstairs to your room.

“Sit down” you told them as you closed your door and locked it. Both listened to you and sat next to each other in bed. Walking up to them, you decided to stand between Eddie’s legs. Leaning down you kissed him passionately, a needy moan escaped his mouth. Steve bit his bottom lip at the sight of you both making out. His member was growning within each second and he felt his jeans becoming too tight for his growing member. You heard Steve hissing softly and you leaned back. 

“Are you okay Steve?” you asked innocently and caressed his cheek. Looking down, you saw the outline of his member through his jeans. You stepped back from Eddie and went between Steves legs. Getting down on your knees, you looked up at him and Eddie. “Remove your clothes” you ordered them both. 

They quickly and quietly obeyed your commands. You watched them both remove their clothes and watched in awe at the sight. Steve cock was long and hard the tip was leaking with precum. Eddie’s cock was thick and long. Immediately you became even more wet then you already were. Letting out a small whimper, you brought your right hand to your mouth and spit on it. Bringing it to Eddie’s member, you wrapped your hand around it and motioned it up and down. 

Eddie’s deep breathes escaped his mouth, he felt on cloud nine when he felt your hand wrapped around his needy cock. He moaned when he saw you leaned down and licked Steve’s tip. 

“Fuck baby” Steve moaned softly when he felt your wet tongue lick a small strip from the bottom of his cock all the way to the top of his tip. His fantasy was finally going to come true, he was going to have sex with the girl of his dreams and a threesome. “Oh fuck!” he cried out in pleasure when you wrapped your plump lips around his hard cock and began moving your head up and down. Your mouth felt heavenly around his cock. 

You moaned at the praise and the way Steve reacted to your mouth around your cock. Feeling a lot of pride that you had both boys on the palm of your hand, you looked at Eddie while you kept giving Steve head. Tightening your grip softly on his cock, he moaned at the feeling and looked down at you. He brought a hand to your cheek and softly smacked you. 

“Such a needy slut” he praised your and smacked you again.  Eddie didn’t know what took over him but he needed you to become vulnerable for them both. “Look at you being a needy slut, letting me and Steve use your pretty body from now on” he said and looked at Steve. “We own this slut, Harrington” he said with a smirk. 

“Fuck yes we do” Steve said and gripped your hair. Pulling your it up, you removed your mouth from his cock and gasped to catch up with your breathing. 

“Remove your clothes and lay in bed baby” Steve ordered and helped you get up. Him and Eddie were mesmerized by your body, little by little as your removed the only two pieces of clothing you wore. Surprised that you didn’t wear a bra or panties, both boys were falling more in love with you by the second and they couldn’t wait until they finally had a taste of you. 

You took a small breath and laid down, waiting for one of the two boys to make a move. Steve was the first one to remove his pants and got on top of you. Leaning down he looked down at your plump red lips and caressed your cheek. 

“Are you sure, you want this?” he asked softly and looked deeply into your eyes. Hoping that you wouldn’t regret what was to come later on. 

“I really do Steve” you whispered and removed his shirt. Smiling softly when he brought his arms up, helping you to remove his shirt. You looked at Eddie and chuckled softly when he just stood there with a cheesy small smile. “Join us, Ed” you said and leaned your head to the side when Steve started leaving kisses on your neck. Moaning softly when you felt him suck softly against your soft skin, he was marking you and you loved that. 

“Patience baby” Eddie said and removed the remaining of his clothes. He got on the bed and softly wrapped his hand around the base of his cock. “Open that pretty mouth of yours baby” he said and tapped the tip of his cock on top of your plump lips. Eddie groaned softly when he finally felt your warm and wet mouth around his cock, something that he has dreamt about ever since he met you. 

Steve left kisses all the way down from your neck, into between your inner thighs. He smirked softly when he saw how wet your pussy looked from his angle. Leaning in he gave a soft lick between your wet pussy lips and moaned at your sweet taste. You tasted like heaven, just like he thought you did. He knew that he was going to be addicted to your sweet taste and he couldn’t wait for more. Wrapping his arms around your thick thighs, he spread them about and began eating you out as if he didn’t eat for days. 

You were a moaning mess, around Eddie’s cock. Steve was eating your pussy out in such a delicious way, the sounds of him licking your wet pussy, your sweet moans, and Eddie’s praises filled the entire room. Eddie softly held your hair into a pony tail while he thrusted his cock in and out of your warm mouth, the way he praised you made you fall in love with him even more. Making eye contact with him, you started meeting his small thrusts inside your mouth. Gagging around his cock made him moan loudly and fill your mouth with his cum. 

“Oh Fuck” he panted and he brought a hand to your cheek. “Swallow my cum baby” he cooed softly when he saw how fucked you looked. 

You swallowed and leaned upward to kiss him passionately. Feeling a lot of pride that you had that type of control over Eddie. 

Steve had gotten on his knees and spit on his hand. He loved the sight of you and Eddie making out infront of him, but felt a little jealous at the tiny lack of attention that he was not receiving. Wrapping his hand around his cock, he brought it up and down. 

“It’s my turn baby” Steve said and aligned the tip of his cock against your wet pussy. Smiling softly when you turned to him with a drunken gaze and nodded your head. 

“Please, I need you” you said in a pleading matter. Gasping softly when you felt him insert his tip inside of you. He was stretching you out up to oblivion, and couldn’t control your moans. His hips started gaining control as he slid in and out of you, his fingers dug deep into your hips and thrusted deeper. 

Eddie brought a hand down to your clit and began to rub it fast. Your loud moans became music to his ears, he loved how you were so desperate for him and Steve. Loving the sight of your head thrown back in pleasure, back arched and your breasts bouncing with each of Steves thrust. He knew that this was going to be one of many more nights like this. Leaning down he began leaving kisses on your exposed neck and marking it just like Henderson did. 

“Liking my cock baby?” Steve teased and smacked you softly. You looked like a fucked mess and he loved the sight of that. Loving the thought that you were cock drunk, with his cock.

You whimpered when you felt him smack you. Couldn’t put words together, you just moaned and nodded your head. 

“Use your words, princess” Eddie said and wrapped his hand around your neck. “Behave for him” he said and gripped his hand more around your neck.

“Y-Yes daddy” you gasped for air and let out a scream of pleasure when Steves thrust became harder and faster. With no warning, he cummed and filled you up with his warm seed. 

“F-fuck!” Steve moaned and slowed down his thrusts. The way you called him Daddy was unexpected and made him cum right then and there. Steve loved the way Daddy rolled out of your pretty mouth in such a innocent but dirty way. 

“Eddie, I need you” you said quietly and pecked his lips. 

“My baby didn’t cum?” he asked teasingly and got on top of you once Steve slid out. Eddie didn’t care about the mess that Harrington made inside of you and slammed his cock without any warning. Your moans got louder with each thrust that he made inside of you. 

“D-daddy” you gasped and wrapped your arms around his back. Your nails digging on his back, leaving small crescent moons but you couldn’t help it. Eddie was fucking you so well, him and Steve knew how to fuck very well. 

“Mm cum for me baby, cum around my cock” Eddie praised you as he grabbed one of your legs and put them around his shoulder. Sliding even deeper inside of you. 

“Fuck baby fuck!, you are only ours” 

“Y-yes daddy!” you say moaning loudly. Looking to your side, you look at Steve. Feeling that you needed his approval to cum as well. Once he gave you a small nod, you gave into the pleasure and cummed all over Eddies cock. 

Eyes rolled back and your back arched in pleasure. Tears rolled down your cheeks at the intense orgasm that took over your body, it was all too much for you after a long time of being celibate. 

Eddie kept fucking you into oblivion until he moaned loudly and cummed inside of you. His cum mixing with Steves and your wet juices. 

“Fuck” he panted harshly and carefully brought down your leg from his shoulder. Sliding out carefully and laid down next to you. His orgasm hit him the hardest. 

Steve let you both calm down and went to you bathroom. He grabbed a cloth and brought it to the sink. Wetting it a little, he came back into the room and up to you. Steve carefully cleaned up the huge mess that was between your legs and left kisses around your chest. 

“You did so well for us baby” he praised you softly as he looked at your fucked up state. 

All you could do was nod your head carefully and let him clean you up. 

Eddie got up to clean himself up and looked outside the window. He was surprised that it was night time. After finishing cleaning himself up, he turned off the bathroom light and walked inside your room. Smiling at you fast asleep, cuddling with Steve who was also fallen asleep. Eddie grabbed the blanket from the end of your bed and extended it over both of the bare bodies. Turning off the late of your room, he walked to the other side of your bed and got under your blanket. 

“Goodnight baby” he whispered and wrapped his arm around your bare waist. Letting sleep take over his tired body. Dreaming of what was going to happen next.

[vernons-girl]

in the rain | jeon wonwoo

fluff, suggestive?, wc:0.4k

So basically, Wonwoo and you were suppose to go for a midnight walk and grab some food and drinks on the way for an improvised late night date… But the weather decided otherwise.

That’s how you found yourselves coming back home drenched from the pouring rain that fell upon the two of you when you were 10 minutes away from your place. Nonetheless, you two couldn’t help but laugh at each others’ state once you made it to the hallway of your appartment complex, Wonwoo's glasses were all fogged up, bangs sticking to one’s forehead, your clothes just as sticky and you both took your shoes off not without with some difficulty.

“We’re never doing this again" you said playfully, still laughing at the situation.

“No we’re not” agreed Wonwoo who was laughing just as much as you, “We should take a shower, or we’re going to catch a cold” he offered, helping you out of your drenched clothes on your way to the bathroom, the cold air making you two shiver, you both jumped in the warm shower, hugging each other close to bring even more warmth to your naked bodies.

“Is the temperature good ?” Wonwoo mumbled with a slight shaky voice, you nodded, pulling your head up to rub your noses together, making your lover giggle at the cute gesture.

Wonwoo started to rub your arms, your back, all the way to your waist down to warm you up again, peppering your face with kisses before placing a loving and passionate one on your lips at last.

After minutes of soft cuddles and shared kisses, you two decided to finally got out of the shower since your skin started to wrinkle a bit now. 

You got dressed into warm sweats and hoodies, putting on fuzzy socks as well, blow drying each other’s hair to safely put your hood over your head and keep yourselves as warm as possible.

You reached the living room, settling down on the couch under some blankets as Wonwoo left for the kitchen to make some hot tea for you two as you watched the rain pour through the window.

Wonwoo came back from the kitchen and couldn’t help the smile on his face at the sight of you cuddled up on the couch, a book in your hands.

“There you go my love” he said handing you your cup of tea, “Do you want me to read that for you ?” he proposed, pointing at the book, “Yes please” you replied, carefully nuzzling yourself into his embrace, pulling the covers over the both of you, relaxing into each other’s warmth and love.

[crappymixtape]

because of you • part four

PART I • PART II • PART III • PART V • EPILOGUE // REQ -> @sattlersquarry ❝ an enemies to lovers fic with Steve? 💙 maybe they have to put aside their differences to fight upside down stuff and realize they actually have a lot in common 👀 • 18+ | ( 5.6k – little bit of king!steve, mostly angst with a dash of fluff, enemies to idiots in love, steve x reader )

B E C A U S E O F Y O U • P A R T F O U R 🎶 the elevator, lizzy mcalpine

“Alright. We’re gonna take care of things at the Creel house and your job is take care of things here,” Steve leveled with Eddie, thinking he was out of earshot for everyone else, but you heard it. Knew what he really meant.

Take care of things.

Fight monsters.

Try not to die.

You’d dropped Lucas, Max and Erica off, drove halfway across town to Eddie’s, dumped all your weapons through the gaping hole in the ceiling and threw yourselves in after them. Had outfitted the exterior of the trailer with metal fencing and cages, ladders and locks, hoping – no – praying it would hold and begged the universe to let everyone come out the other side of this.

“Robs, you and Nance are with me.”

Steve pulled taut the belt around his waist and clicked his flashlight on, looking for once like he actually knew what he was doing, and for a split second you thought maybe this just might work. Thought if Steve was that confident, if Nancy was willing to go with him, then maybe it would be alright.

But then it came time for you all to split in half again and you walked with Steve and Nancy and Robin to the front door and out into the ash choked air. Half-hid behind Eddie as they double checked their gear and started to walk away, but Steve stopped at the last second and turned back around.

“Listen. If things here start to go south, I mean at all, you abort. Okay?” he said brows tugged together with conviction, the weight of his words causing you to start trembling. “You draw the attention of the bats, keep ‘em busy for a minute or two, and we’ll take care of Vecna.”

And as you looked at the axe slung over Steve’s shoulder, the shotgun held tight in Nancy’s grasp, heard your molotov cocktails clinking together in Robin’s backpack you realized you didn’t want them to leave because what if they didn’t come back?

“And don’t try to be cute or–or be a hero or something. You’re just–”

“Decoys. Don’t worry. You can be the hero, Steve,” Dustin said rolling his eyes, unable even now to let go of the consistent needling that happened between him and Steve, but you could read between the lines.

I care about you.

Don’t get hurt.

Please be safe.

“Absolutely. Agreed. I mean look at us…we are not heroes,” Eddie admitted shaking his head, his nail covered garbage can lid swung over his shoulder and hair tied back out of his face. Trying so hard to just do his part in all this and after Steve nodded his acknowledgement, he looked at you.

Held your gaze for a minute. Parted his lips with words held heavy on his tongue, but unsure if he should say them. Knowing if he set them free, they would make the stakes unbearable and instead gave you a small nod.

A slight smile.

An attempt at quiet reassurance and as he turned to leave you felt a tangled knot of worry start to swirl at the pit of your stomach and the further he walked away the more knotted it became. Snatched up with it regret, possibility, second and third chances and trying to start over until the sound of someone’s voice shouting into the dark broke your concentration.

Your voice.

“Steve! Wait!”

He had never turned around so quickly, the sound of your voice stopping him dead in his tracks and he waited. For you. Waited as your boots crunched in the dead sticks and leaves on the ground, cracking and snapping with each step until you reached him, breathless and unsure of what you wanted to say but insistent on saying something.

“Everything okay?” he asked, trying to be casual. Unattached. Felt Robin and Nancy’s eyes on you both, but shot them a look and they gave you some space.

“Yeah–I mean, no? I just–we’re about to get swarmed by bats from hell and I...well, I guess what I wanted to say is–” you tripped over your words, felt clumsy and stupid, but desperate. Wanted him to know you wanted to work on things. Wanted to give him another chance, but it just wouldn’t come out and his expression softened as he realized what you were getting at.

“Slow down,” he murmured and you drew in a breath.

In.

Out.

Try again.

“I just want you to know that...I wanna try,” you said, still a bit clumsy, one word falling out after the other. “I wanna work on–on forgiveness or…shit. I don’t know,” you squeezed your eyes shut, hoping it would help you gather up your thoughts and Steve waited. Patient. “Just come back, okay?” you finally asked, opening your eyes to see his mouth tugged up at the corner in a lopsided smile.

“You want me to come back, Princess?” he asked wryly and you scowled.

“I’m gonna let that one go cos ‘end of the world’ and whatever,” you snarked and it made him laugh. A low rumble in his chest that filled you up to the brim and spilled over at the edges.

“Gee thanks.”

“Yeah, you owe me now,” you teased.

“Alright, deal. Promise I’ll get you back when this is all over.”

When this is all over.

“I’m gonna hold you to it,” you said, your voice wobbling a little despite your efforts to keep it even and the sound put an ache in Steve’s chest. Pulled his hand to your cheek. His fingers gently tucking your unruly curls behind your ear.

“Wouldn’t expect any less,” he said quietly, only to you, and then took a couple steps back. Put space between you quickly to try and make it easier, but it stung. The sudden realization that your want for reconciliation was mutual and having to watch it walk away with the possibility of not returning.

The possibility of death.

“Good luck,” you whispered, your throat closing around the sob that had lodged itself in your chest, and watched as Steve disappeared into the dark.

❝ JUST ANOTHER TIME THAT I GO DOWN, BUT YOU ARE KEEPING UP, HOLDING TO A HOPE YOU’LL UNDERMINE ❞

“Eddie, Eddie! It’s working!” Dustin yelled after Eddie helped you back into the trailer.

“Shit–” Eddie handed you his nail covered garbage can lid and grabbed hold of your shoulder. “Listen to me. You leave this trailer no matter what, you hear me? Doesn’t matter if I’m yelling at you for help or–or covered in these fucking bats, you leave.“

“Wha–”

“No. It’s not a discussion.”

“Eddie, I’m not leaving–”

“Yes. You are, sweetheart.”

The ache in your chest swelled unbearably, painfully, tight and squeezing around the possibility that your best friend might not come back through that gate with you and the tears came. Hot against your cheeks as they cut paths down to your jawline.

Swiping his thumb gently across the line of your lashes Eddie gave you a sad smile.

“It’s not the plan, honey, but just in case. Now take this and get inside.”

All you could do was shake your head as Eddie popped back out of the trailer, shouting at Dustin to hurry the hell up, and as you walked back to the angry, gaping hole in the ceiling you could hear scratching on the roof.

“Eddie!” you yelled through your tears.

“I know, I know!” he called back.

“Eddie, they’re on the–”

“The roof! I know! Dammit, Henderson, get the hell in here!” yanking the younger boy into the trailer, Eddie slammed the front door shut and barricaded you in. “Fuck!” he shouted into the door, “I hope this works.”

“It’ll work, it has to work,” Dustin muttered, eyes glued to the air vent above you.

“It has to,” you echoed, quieter and under your breath as an image of Steve wielding his axe in front of Vecna flashed in your mind.

The squeals and shrieks in the air vent were getting louder and louder, scratching closer and closer and the ache in your chest twisted into something uglier, dread, fear.

“Eddie…” Dustin looked over his shoulder, “Eddie can they get through that?”

“Uh–I don’t think so–”

SCREEEEEEECH!

The vent burst open as a demobat clawed it’s way through the plastic cover, it’s long, sharp talons cutting deep gashes in the ceiling.

“FUCK! FUCK!”

“SHIT, SHIT, SHIT!”

Eddie and Dustin were on it before it could get all the way in, jamming their spears into the hole, Die, die, die!! until Eddie slammed one of the garbage can lids over the top of it and sealed it shut, heaving holy shit, holy shit from his lungs.

“Nice,” Dustin gasped from the floor.

“Thanks.”

You didn’t realize you were watching everything through your fingers, face buried in your hands, until Eddie glanced up and saw you.

“Oh, god. You okay? You’re okay. It’s okay,” he closed the distance between you and wrapped his arms around you. “It’s okay, they can’t get in now. It’s okay.”

“Eddie…” Dustin was still on the floor, eyes looking down the hallway to Eddie’s bedroom. “Are there any more vents?”

Eddie tensed against you and froze for a second and then let you go in an instant, “Oh shit.”

“What? Eddie, what??” you shouted as he turned and ran down the hallway, Dustin on his heels, both of them just yelling shit so much now that it didn’t even sound like a word anymore.

“There’s a vent in my roo–”

As Eddie yanked open the door to his room the hissing slap of wings against wood paneling almost drowned out the shrieks that followed.

“That’s not gonna hold!” Dustin screamed.

Eddie shoved you back down the hallway, “Let’s go, let’s go!”

“But the others–”

“We don’t have time!” Eddie shoved at you and Dustin, the younger boy already halfway up the knotted bedsheet hanging out of the ceiling as Eddie snatched up the spare garbage can lid.

“C’mon!” Dustin yelled from the other side.

Grabbing Eddie by the jacket you shook him, “They need more time!”

He met your gaze and sobered, chest heaving as he gasped for air and realized what you were implying.

“They need more time,” you said again, quieter, throat tight around your words as Eddie looked up at Dustin through the gate.

“Fuck,” Eddie whispered harshly, squeezing his eyes shut against he knew you needed to do. “Dammit, I’m sorry,” he said looking back up at Dustin.

“What? What d’you mean sorry?? Eddie what d’you mean sorry?? What are you doing? What are you–”

Grabbing a spear, Eddie sliced the bedsheet in half and you watched as the other end fell to the floor in a pile at your feet.

That was going to make getting back just a tad more difficult.

“EDDIE! EDDIE, NO! STOP!” Dustin was screaming now, strained and painful and you couldn’t bear to look at him.

“C’mon,” Eddie grabbed your arm and pulled you with him back to the door.

Steve’s bat was heavy in your hands, your fingers readjusting their grip in anticipation of putting your training session back at the meadow to good use.

…wide stance right?…choke up on your hold…it’ll make your swings hit harder…follow through with your hip.

Sucking in a breath you could hear Dustin still screaming at you from the other side.

“Come back!! Don’t do this! Please, don’t do this!”

And your body went numb as Eddie put a hand on the doorknob, “This is for Stevie. For Nance. For Robin and Max and everyone. And we come back alive, okay?” Eddie said to you, brown eyes soft like brown sugar, crinkled at the edges as he tried to smile and you tried to give him one back.

“Okay. Together,” you said.

“Together,” he echoed and then yanked the door open to a swarm of bats from hell all screeching and clamoring to get their hooks into you.

The bat in your hands hit hard against the body of the demobat flying above you with a sickening crunch. Caught it mid-air as you swung it down into the ground and twisted it, shouldered down and killed it with another pop! but you were far from finished.

Pushing loose hair out of your eyes you glanced up to see Eddie wrestling with his own hoard of nasties that the Upside Down had coughed up.

THWACK!

You swung again in a half circle, taking two demobats down with one swing and a grin flickered at the corners of your lips. Steve would be proud.

“Just a little longer, sweetheart!” Eddie shouted over the slap of desiccated wings and sharp, gnashing teeth.

A little longer, you told yourself, swinging the bat again and again, Eddie keeping up with his spear and shield.

Pulling back, you swung heavy at a particularly nasty looking demobat, a sneer on your lips doing as Steve instructed and following with your hips, but it didn’t connect and you stumbled forward, scraping your hands on the ground.

Fuck, was your immediate first thought, your bat clattering a few feet away with the impact, and again, fuck, when claws sliced through the heavy canvas of your tactical vest and into your back.

The cuts burned, hot and angry, the fabric against your back growing damp with blood, but you couldn’t stop. You had to get Steve’s bat. It was just out of reach as you scrambled against the dirt, fingers fumbling on the handle until something slipped through your hair at the back of your neck. Gritty like sandpaper, slithering as it crept around your throat and wrapping around and around and your eyes grew wide when it squeezed.

“Eddie!” you croaked, hands scrambling against the demobat tail tightening at your neck, cutting off your air supply.

“Wha–shit! Hang on, sweetheart! Hang on!”

The look on Eddie’s face scared you, like maybe you were going to die and god you didn’t want to die, and then the demobat yanked at you and everything went sideways as you hit the dirt, back first. The cuts there screamed and your head thunked hard enough against the ground you saw stars. Then, as if to add insult to injury, the demobat tightened its hold so that now and truly you could not breathe.

Your fingers scrambled against the flesh of the monster, struggling to loosen its grip, but it felt impossible. It was too tight.

Little pinpricks of light appeared against your vision as you watched red cracks of lighting split the sky in two. You couldn’t remember what it was like to take a breath. How long had it been? Thirty seconds? A minute? Longer? Where was Eddie?

A fuzzy feeling crept around you, warm and wrapping around your body as a shadowy haze blurred in at the edges of your vision. Closing in further and further and melting your pain along with it. You couldn’t feel the scrapes across your back, the cuts on your knees, the burning in your throat.

Were you going to die?

But what about Steve? You promised. He promised.

I’ll get you back when this is all over.

You needed to tell him how much you wanted to try. Wanted to hear him out. Wanted to see the real Steve, the one Eddie trusted so much, the one you were starting to feel like might actually prove you wrong, but you weren’t breathing. Hadn’t been breathing and you were dying and–

“God dammit–die, asshole!”

Suddenly the tail loosened at your neck and your body heaved you from the ground, writhing at the ability to breathe again. Gasping and gulping and pulling in ash-thick air, your hands pressed to your throat to make double damn sure it was really gone.

“Christ–” A hand, wide and warm was at the small of your back and the voice in your ear made you feel like you couldn’t breathe again.

Steve.

“Told you I’d come back, princess. You alright?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, but it wouldn’t go away and your fingers smoothed over the angry, swollen skin.

“Look, twins,” Steve tried to joke, tugging his shirt down so you could see the same marks on his neck and it pulled a hoarse laugh from your lips, but it hurt. “*Shit–*I’m sorry, don’t talk. C’mon, we gotta get out of here.”

You wanted to stop for a second and look at him, the moles dotted on his cheek and neck, the dip of his cupid’s bow, the cut on his cheek and wipe the dirt from his forehead and just–

“We gotta go!” Robin yelled from the trailer and Steve scooped his hands under your arms and pulled you to your feet.

Nancy was with Robin back over at the trailer door yelling something about not jumping through gates like that anymore – Dustin? But didn’t he…and then your stomach lurched.

“Eddie?” you croaked, fingers digging into Steve’s waist, “Where’s Eddie?”

“Shh, don’t talk. He’s okay, he’s already in the trailer.”

“Where–”

Steve stopped for a split second and looked down at you, brows pinched together, his eyes dark, worried, “I’ll explain everything, but we need to leave.”

You nodded and he picked up the pace again dragging you both into the trailer and, as Robin says, by some miracle you all piled through and came out the other side.

❝ I FEEL IT COMING ON, YOU CAN BE WELL AWARE, IF I EVER TRY TO PUSH AWAY YOU CAN JUST KEEP ME ❞

When you all stumbled out of Eddie’s trailer into Hawkins it felt like nothing had changed – it still looked like the Upside Down.

Ash fell from the sky, dark clouds hung heavy overhead and smoke rolled up from downtown as you struggled to process what had happened. They’d killed Vecna, or at least blasted his ass out the window and onto the ground below, but when they went to check he was gone and that was when the clock chimed. Four chimes, four deaths.

Everyone was worried about Max, but everyone was also in various states of injury, so you all decided to split up. Nancy and Robin took Lucas, Max and Dustin to the hospital and after you’d suffocated Eddie with hugs he said he wanted to hang back and look for Wayne. Part of you wanted him to stay, but Wayne was the only family he had so you understood. With Vecna ‘gone’ there were no real pressing threats – for now.

So, all that was left was you and Steve.

“Let me give you a ride?” he asked, dirt flecked across his cheeks and forehead, bottom lip split.

“I can’t go home like this,” your voice had made a return, but it was hoarse, sounded rough like gravel and every time you spoke Steve winced.

“Oh, right. Okay, yeah–uh–we can go to my place. My parents are out of town on business, so no one’s there. Get cleaned up and then I can take you home.”

Piling into Steve’s BMW you could feel the adrenaline starting to melt away. The pain that your body had held at bay starting to push against your skin, your very bones, a deep ache that threatened to break you and you fought it as hard as you could.

“Thank you,” you half-whispered into the quiet of the car and Steve’s fingers twitched on the gear shift.

“For…?”

You looked across the center console at him, “For saving me.”

That pulled his attention and he met your gaze and for a split second everything felt suspended, held in mid-air, floating in the space between you and Steve’s lips parted. Trying to find the words.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said quietly, still looking at you, then he flicked his eyes back to the road. “I know you said I owe you, but…I really do. I–I couldn’t stop thinking about you after we left the trailer. How fucked up everything was and how I didn’t get to say everything I wanted.”

You watched his profile, the strong line of his jaw, the way it ticked when he clenched his teeth and fought back the lump in his throat.

“I owe you a lot more. A lot more.”

“Steve–”

“No, I mean it,” throwing the BMW into park he turned to look at you again. "You've made me feel...so many things I didn't think were possible anymore and–god–I thought about losing you and I just..."

"I did too," you admitted to the dark and it pulled his gaze.

"You did?"

"Yeah, Steve. I think I–ouch," a sharp pain punched in you leg and you doubled over from the force of it.

“Wait. Are you hurt?”

You sucked in a breath and tried to sit back up, tried to play it off. "Yeah, I mean, aren’t we all?”

“No...your back," Steve ghosted a hand over the back of your vest and pulled his hand away damp with blood.

“I–the demobat–” stuttering over your words Steve didn’t let you finish and stumbled out of the car and around to your side to get you into the the house.

The Harrington’s place was out of a stupid catalogue. All the art, the vases, the plants and furniture – it all looked staged, not lived in. If you hadn’t felt like you wanted to throw up you would’ve lingered a bit longer in the entry, but Steve was pulling you up the stairs and you were too weak to fight it.

“Shower’s in here,” he said, opening the door to his parent’s room.

Exquisite sky lights cut large rectangles into the ceiling and washed the room in the dim, cool light of the moon above. A clearing in the smoke. Somehow his house hadn’t been swallowed up by the gashes in the earth. A large sleigh bed sat against the wall, a large painting of a garden hanging above it and two matching nightstands with lamps perched on either side. Nice, but cold. Not lived in.

Too busy looking around, Steve came back out of the master bath and called your name, but when you didn’t look he took the few steps to stand right in front of you.

Warm. Safe. Steve.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Sorry, uh–yeah, I'm okay.”

He looked at you, skeptical, but needed to gather more supplies and so didn’t push you on it.

“Alright, princess. I got the shower going in there, but don’t move too quick. Take it slow, one step at a time and I’ll be back with a towel and some bandaids.”

“Okay–”

“Seriously,” he said, “I mean it. Slow.”

“I will,” you insisted, a smile twitching at the corners of your lips and he gave you a little grin.

“Okay. Be right back.”

Even if he hadn’t asked you, you couldn’t go faster than one foot in front of the other. The pain was almost unbearable now, screaming all over your body and you didn’t know if you could handle a shower, but it wasn’t an option. Infection would finish off what the demobats couldn’t, and so, layer by layer, you pulled your clothes from your body.

Your jeans, your vest, your shirt, your socks, your shoes. All of it a muddied brown and red pile on the floor leaving you in your bra and underwear. Your back was burning, felt like fire and when you stepped into the shower expecting more pain, you found peace.

Carefully shuffling on the tile floor, the steam billowing up from the shower floor felt like it was swallowing you whole. Filled the air around you and made everything hazy. Made it feel otherworldly, like heaven, and as you stared you watched the water falling down your body turn rusty. Mixing with the dirt and ash and blood from your skin and carrying it down the drain. Washing away any remaining proof that interdimensional monsters are real and that you’d nearly died killing them. The only things left hinting at what had been life or death, would be all the little silvery scars after your wounds healed.

You turned the heat up and as more steam clouded the stall, you felt a warmth wrap itself around you. One that felt deeper than the hot water. Like a heavy cloak draping over you and you wanted to let it swallow you whole. Wanted to nestle into it and succumb to the deep, soft feeling it was pouring into you and your vision started to blur at the edges.

“Oh–” you half-gasped. Stumbled as the world swam in front of you. Pressed a hand heavy against the wall to steady yourself and your fingers slipped against the tile.

“Hey! Whoa, whoa, whoa–”

Suddenly someone was opening the shower, sucking out the steam, and a shock of cold air hit you as Steve filled the door frame.

“Shit, hang on–” he swore softly and stepped in with you still wearing his jeans and ripped up shirt. Water soaking him from head to toe, he gently looped an arm around your waist and held you steady. “I got you, I got you,” he said, voice barely above a whisper, and it pulled your gaze up.

Water clinging to your lashes, your lids were heavy as you blinked and when he finally came into focus it made your heart ache. A deep pinch between his brows, eyes searching yours and trying to work out what he needed to do to fix you. What he needed to do to keep you here.

God, he wanted to keep you.

“I’m fine,” you insisted weakly, pushing against him as your lips tried to twist into a scowl and it pulled a huff of a laugh from him.

“No, you’re not,” his tone was firm, but gentle. The rough pads of his fingers pressing into your side as he eased you onto the seat at the corner of the stall. Made doubly sure you weren’t going to fall and half-stepped back out onto the bathmat.

Shrugging off his shirt, he pulled it over his head and tossed it into the tub. Kicked off his wet Levis and left them in a pile on the floor. Grabbed a washcloth from the towel rack and stepped back in with you and closed the door behind him.

Kneeling, Steve sank down through the steam, putting himself at your height for once. Water running hot and soothing both of your aching bodies as he wetted the wash cloth. Then, pushing up on one knee, he started to gently scrub the dried blood from your forehead. Rinsed the cloth out and moved to your hand. Looked it over for any obvious wounds and softly cleaned the dirt from your palm. Then, satisfied with what he found under all the grime, he turned to your other hand. Moved up your arms and paid close attention to the cut on your right shoulder. Winced and snuck a glance at you when you sucked in a pained gasp through gritted teeth.

“Sorry,” he said and when he looked up at you it was a thousand sorry’s, so fucking sorry, and it made your chest ache. “Let me look at your back,” he said, standing to see the three nasty cuts across your skin there and he huffed a sigh. “These could be worse,” he assessed, shaking his head, “I’ll look in the light when you’re out.”

He bent back down and knelt in front of you again, water splashing against his back as he took your hand in his. He started up again at your feet. Skipped over the bruises on your shins and the angry-looking scrape on your left knee and as he gently shifted you to reach your upper leg, the water running off your body turned bright red.

“Oh shit..." he breathed, a deep frown pulling at his features as his eyes frantically searched for the source, worry tugging at the pit of his stomach. It couldn’t have been your back…where was it coming from?

And then he finally saw it. The nasty gash on your thigh courtesy of the same damn demobat as it dragged its claw down through your skin. “Christ,” he hissed under his breath, moving to let the water run over it, “We gotta clean this–”

“Fuck, Steve–” you choked out, the pain in your leg white hot as you pressed a hand heavy into his before he could use the washcloth. “It hurts,” you half-sobbed and he quickly blocked the shower with his back again.

“Shit–I’m sorry–dammit–” a string of curses fell from his lips as he leaned closer to get a better look.

The few seconds of water had done a good job of cleaning it up, but he could see now how deep it was. Probably needed stitches, just like his stomach would, and he squeezed his eyes shut for a minute.

It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay. We’ll be okay.

Pulling in a deep breath he went to the place in his mind he knew all too well. The one where he closed out the sick feeling of worry blooming in his chest, the thoughts of 'what if' that didn't end nicely and hardened against it all so that he could do what he needed to keep you safe.

“Alright, princess,” he reached over his shoulder and turned off the tap, then looked back up at you, still on his knees. “I gotta get you out and dried off, okay? Get this fixed up,” he said, nodding at your leg, “Will you let me do that?”

A soft scowl pulled at your features and it almost made him smile – how pretty you were even when you were mad. Even like this.

“I don’t think you’re gonna give me a choice,” you tried to snark around the sob in your throat and that finally cracked a tiny grin on his face.

“I’m not,” he gently agreed and with that you let him lift you from the seat. Let his hands, warm and wide at your waist, guide you from the shower and wrap a towel around your tired body.

Setting you at the edge of the sleigh bed, Steve dug around in the box of medical supplies he’d slowly put together during his time with the Upside Down. Bandages, rubbing alcohol, peroxide, antibiotic ointment, wraps, gauze–

“Steve,” you whispered and it pulled his gaze.

“What is it? Are you okay? Are you dizzy?”

You gave him a weak smile, “I promise I’m fine.” He nodded, not wholly believing you. “What is that for?” you asked, pointing at a needle and thread and his expression shifted.

“For cuts,” was all he could manage and it made your stomach lurch.

“Like mine?”

He chewed on his lower lip, fingers twisting the thread dipping through the eye of the needle. “Like yours,” he agreed quietly and you squeezed your eyes shut.

No. No, no, no. Not here. Not Steve.

“Hey, hey,” Steve pressed his hand into yours, warm and safe, “I promise it’s gonna be okay. Look, I’ve got my own shit I need to do too.” He moved his arm aside to show you the cut along his stomach from the lake gate. “See? Right?”

You were crying, but it was too quiet to really know and when Steve saw your tears silently slipping down your cheek he caught them with the pad of his thumb.

“I know how scary this is,” he finally said, voice a low vibration you could feel in your chest, reassuring and true, “But I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you. I swear.”

And the way he was looking at you was something you’d never seen from him before. Features pulled in pain, agony, but not from his wounds. Searching for something in your eyes he wasn’t sure of, but knew he’d find if he looked long enough and you lifted your hand to his over your cheek.

“Okay,” came out cracked, wobbly, crying, and he gave you the tiniest smile.

You watched as he pulled through a new line of thread, knotted the end and dipped the needle in rubbing alcohol and a wave of nausea crashed over you.

“Here,” Steve caught the look on your face, the way you were shaking, “Lie on your back and hold this to your face. Scream into it if you have to, okay? I’m going to go as fast as I can.”

He handed you a pillow and thank god because you were sure if you’d had to watch, you were going to pass out.

Doing as he asked, you laid back on the bed with the pillow pressed to your face, still only wearing your underwear and bra, and a thought struck you – if this had been literally any other time, what would Steve had said? Would he tell you how beautiful you looked? How he liked the lace trim across your bra straps? How he wanted to trace his finger along the hem of your panties? How–

“Oh, fuck–” slipped out of your mouth, muffled against the pillow, but you didn’t get a chance to finish because everything went black.

“Hey, hey! Oh, shit. Dammit. Princess? Are you with me?” Steve had just finished the first stitch when you suddenly went limp on the bed.

Quickly leaning up he put his ear to your chest for a heartbeat and heard a steady thum, thum, thum. Happy with that he sat back up and took even more solace in the even breaths falling from your lips.

“Sorry,” he whispered to you, “I didn’t do well with it the first time either.”

Then, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead he finished stitching up your leg. Cleaned up your back and applied a few bandages there where needed. It’d looked worse than it actually was, thank god. He pulled back the covers and lifted you up to the head of the bed and tucked you in, checking your breathing again to make damn sure.

He made quick work of stitching up his stomach. Pausing only a couple of times to swallow down his own nausea, and when he was done, he changed into a Hawkins Athletics shirt and shorts and crawled in next to you.

Despite the world on fire outside his window and despite the fact they couldn't find a body for Vecna, it was all okay for right now. In that moment. With you there in that room, hidden in the indigo shadows as he clicked off the light, promising he'd finish saying what he'd started in the car. And soon enough exhaustion claimed Steve too, pulling him into the same deep, dreamless sleep that you'd thankfully found.

[ NOTE: THIS IS PART FOUR OF A FIVE – POSSIBLY MORE – PART SERIES, PART FIVE TO COME SOON ]

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist♥️ reblogs and comments keep me going, friends! ily! ♥️

[bisexualiteaa]

Nobody Gets me, You Do

Older!Logan Howlett x Fem Reader (ANGST TO FLUFF)

CW: post Deadpool and Wolverine, breakups, brief mentions of seggs in the past, mentions of alcohol, mention of death, mutual pining, cursing, kissing, angst w/ fluffy ending! Possible spelling and grammar errors

AN: came across this song again after a while of not hearing it and it just all came to me. It came to me very quickly so my apologies if it isn’t up to par with my usual works! 😅 I don’t own the song or characters. If anyone has any requests for our men Logan or Wade, please feel free! My asks are open! Enjoy!! 🥰

The song followed him everywhere since the break up. When he would get in the car, the radio would come on and play it for a few moments before he could switch the station to his usual 80’s rock. When he would come to the bar to drink, it would play at least once per night, making him groan each time he heard it begin to play. Sometimes he would even hear it in the stores he went to, and it pissed him off how much it managed to wedge itself into his brain. It was an ear worm that perfectly managed to place salt on a wound that could never truly heal. Losing you. It was a fitting song he had to admit, recounting the days of when you were together and how you used to cherish every memory and now all he has of you are those memories to look back on. It made his heart wrench in his chest and his throat fill with bile at the thought that he managed to chase you away. The one person who cared for him the most, not only in this time line, but in his previous one too. The only person that brought him a semblance of happiness and he managed to fuck it up completely. He’d come to learn that he was quite good at fucking things up, perhaps it was just the curse he carried with him. He managed to take a healthy relationship, with someone who felt like his most perfect match and fucked it up completely. He hated to admit it, but out of everything, there was one thing the song got right.

“Nobody gets me, you do”

One night he decided enough was enough, the lyrics had been lingering in his mind like a haunting memory. He needed it out, needed to just sit down and fully listen to it so he could rid himself of the sound on repeat. He grabbed his phone, getting lost in the picture of you two together on his lockscreen. You were both so happy then. The way you looked at him with all the love in the world, and the way his hand rested upon your hip that told you he would always keep you safe. The smile that rested on his lips as he looked down at you, it was gorgeous. It wasn’t the best picture, but it was a candid moment Wade managed to capture out on a mission together in the woods. One he’d never forget because it was the last one he’d get with you. Once he could manage to tear his eyes away from the picture, he searched up the song, bracing himself for the emotional rollercoaster that was bound to come with. He gave a deep sigh as he sat up listening to it on the couch, a beer in one hand, looking down at his dog tags that you had given back to him the day you left in the other.

Took a long vacation

No makeup, just Jay-Z

You were balls deep, now we beefin’

Had me butt-naked at the MGM

So wasted screamin’, “Fuck that,”

Love me now, but I’m anythin’

Hurry now, baby, stick it in

‘Fore the memories get to kickin’ in

That portion of the song reminded him of the last time you were intimate together. His mind wandered to the way you both came barreling through your apartment door, so ready to pounce on each other that you could hardly get to the bedroom and decided to do it on your couch. He remembered the giggles of excitement, the gasps, moans and groans as you lost yourselves in one another. He remembered the way that you complained of the pain in your legs and lower back the next day from how long you two stayed up going round for round. He was never very good with intimacy, but with you it felt natural. With you, everything felt natural, everything felt like he was in his own personal heaven.

It’s too late

I don’t wanna lose what’s left of you

How am I supposed to tell ya?

I don’t wanna see you with anyone but me

Nobody gets me like you

How am I supposed to let you go?

Only like myself when I’m with you

Nobody gets me, you do

You do

Nobody gets me, you do

You do

Nobody gets me, you do

You do

Nobody gets me, you do

Those lyrics hit him the hardest, because they were true. He clung to the last little things he had of you, from the still lingering smell of your perfume on some of his shirts, to the pictures he had of you together in his wallet. Even down to the dog tags he held in his hand. You always kept them tucked under your shirt, keeping it “as close to your heart as you kept him” you would always say. The day you handed them back was the day he knew he lost you for good. He hoped that maybe somehow you still had a space left in your heart for him to reside once more, praying someone else hadn’t come along and taken his place. He couldn’t bear the thought of you with someone else, the thought leaving a sour taste in his mouth. You were his girl, he would always see you that way, even if you didn’t want him anymore.

Took me out to the ballet

You proposed, I went on the road

You was feelin’ empty, so you left me

Now I’m stuck dealin’ with a deadbeat

If I’m real, I deserve less

If I was you, I wouldn’t take me back

I pretend when I’m with a man, it’s you

And I know that it’s too late

I don’t wanna lose what’s left of you

This one wasn’t far off, he understood after everything that he said, after the way he treated you if you didn’t want to take him back. He didn’t even like himself, how could he expect someone to love him in such a state? Closing his eyes, he thought back to the times before your break up, allowing the song to finish.

How am I supposed to tell ya?

I don’t wanna see you with anyone but me

Nobody gets me like you

How am I supposed to let you go?

Only like myself when I’m with you

Nobody gets me, you do

You do

Nobody gets me, you do

You do

Nobody gets me, you do

You do

Nobody gets me, you do

Nobody gets me, you do

He released a long shaky breath, feeling his eyes begin to grow wet with tears he hadn’t noticed began to well in his lash line. He tipped his head back after he took a drink of his beer, trying his hardest to fight the tears from escaping but he could only do so much to stop it as the song played on repeat.

“Well, now that’s a sight I never thought I’d see” Wade said, making Logan groan as he took another hefty swig of his drink. “Fuck off” he responded coldly, but of course, this was Wade he was talking to. Things were never that easy with him. “Easy Wolvie, I’m here for you” he said, placing a hand to the man’s shoulder only further agitating Logan as he shrugged it off. “I’m fine” he replied, trying to get him to leave but as usual, his efforts were fruitless. “Yeah, totally. Listening to a sad song on repeat while drinking is exactly the definition I think of when someone says they’re fine” Wade quipped, making him roll his eyes at his sarcasm. “Fuck you” Logan responded, not wanting to put up with his bullshit but lacking the energy to fight back full force. “I still live in my angsty teenage years every now and then, though I didn’t picture this to be the music of choice for you” Wade said. “It’s fuckin’ everywhere. Like I can’t get rid of it. It’s followed me everywhere since…” he started to say before stopping himself, not wanting to share with Wade of all people but he really didn’t have anyone else. “The break up?” Wade asked, making Logan grunt in acknowledgment. “Yeah” he answered.

It happened so long ago now, but he remembered it like it was yesterday, the sour memories of your usually soft, sweet voice screaming at him. The tears that streamed down your face not only from sadness but from anger. It haunted his dreams at night on repeat, hearing those words leave you as you stormed out, and hearing the awful response he only wished he could take back. You had every right to be angry with him, to break up with him like you did. It was his fault after all. He’d left you in one timeline already, dying before you had the chance to even tell him one last goodbye, and then he nearly left you in this one. Sacrificing himself to try and save Wade and his world without a second thought of leaving you behind again. So this time you left him. He couldn’t be mad at you, not when your anger was completely justified. “Want me to invite her over? Give you the chance to talk with her?” Wade asked, genuinely wanting to help. It was a wishful thought, but your relationship didn’t end the way Wade’s did with Vanessa. A simple meet up wouldn’t take back the hurtful words he’d said to you and he knew that. “Even if you did, she wouldn’t want to see me. Not after everything I said that night ” Logan replied, finishing off his beer. “Can’t be that bad! Right…?” Wade asked, making Logan look at him. “Good god man, what did you say?!” He asked, making Logan sigh. “Told her I was just trying to help, but that if she couldn’t handle me and the dangerous shit that comes with me, then to find someone else. You can imagine the rest” he answered, making Wade hiss in pain at the words his roommate said. “Ouch” he commented. “Well…it could still be worth a shot. How long has it been?” He asked. “Eight months, haven’t heard a fuckin’ word from her” Logan replied gruffly. “Double ouch” Wade said, making Logan shoot a glare in his direction. “Oh fuck off. Stupid of me to think you of all people would fucking help” he grumbled angrily. “No, no, no! C’mon you helped me, let me help you. Just trust me and give it a shot” Wade begged him, making him sit and think on it. Or at least pretend to, he didn’t need to think on it, the idea of speaking to you finally after so long left him anxious but he wanted you back so badly. “And if it doesn’t work?” Logan asked gruffly. “You can brutally beat the shit out of me and get black out drunk and forget it even happened” Wade responded, leaving Logan rather skeptical but at least it was worth a try. “Let’s turn off the sad music though, you’re scaring the hoes” Wade joked as he text you and asked you to come over.

When Wade invited you over to his place, Logan could hardly believe that you actually showed up. He figured you would rather be the farthest away that you could possibly get from him after everything that had transpired between you two. Yet there you were, looking as gorgeous as ever. A little tired maybe, like stress had been hounding you for some time, but otherwise you seemed to be doing well. He wished he could say the same about himself but he’d been nothing but a wreck since you left. Your eyes flit across the apartment, subconsciously searching for Logan. You found him in the kitchen, cooking what looked to be his own dinner, seeing as Wade and Althia got high, while drinking a beer, and the sight made your chest grow tight. You missed coming home to see him like that on occasion, missed when he would cook for you, especially on holidays or your anniversary. You thought back to Valentine’s Day when he made you dinner after a rogue mission gone sour, walking into your apartment to the smell of your favorite meal being made after a long and troubling day. You missed coming home to him, sharing your bed with him.

You missed him.

You weren’t sure how to speak to him after everything you’d said, and with the distance between you, you hadn’t spoken to him since the night you left. He could hate you for all you knew. You couldn’t blame him if he did, you’d hate yourself too if you were told the awful things you’d said. You couldn’t help but pray that somewhere deep down in that gruff exterior of his, that maybe he could forgive you. That maybe he would take you back, allow you a chance to apologize and mend what had been broken. The scent of a warm, hand made meal snapped you from your thoughts, filling the air as you bravely stepped into the kitchen. The minute you did, your heart slammed against your chest, unsure of where to go from here. “You came” Logan said, sounding almost surprised to see you here in front of him. You were thankful that he started the conversation for you and spoke first, you felt almost as if all words were trapped in your throat. “You called” you answered surely, looking at him with a kind, almost apologetic smile. “Wasn’t sure if you would” he replied, and it made your heart ache to know you made him feel that way. “I’m here now” you answered softly, your hand coming to rest gently on his upper arm, making him look to you with an expression that held so many emotions you didn’t know which to read first. Tension hung in the air between you as you stood and looked at one another, this was the first time standing before each other in nearly a year. You could see longing in his gaze, sadness in his body language, but an unrelenting passion in his eyes. He looked as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know the words to say it. So this time you spoke for him.

“Smells delicious, I see you’re still a wonderful cook” you complimented with a nostalgic smile, trying to start up a conversation the best you could with him to see where you stand. “Want some?” He asked without hesitation, tilting his head towards the food before grabbing a plate for you. You didn’t even need to answer. Maybe he didn’t hate you like you first thought, maybe this could go well after all. You surely hoped it would at least. “That’s your dinner, I don’t want to take it all. I know how much you love that dish, I don’t want to take it from you” you said, reminding him of all the times you would make sure he ate, always fussing over him. At the time he used to tell you he could take care of himself and that you didn’t need to worry yourself over him but now? He’d give anything to hear your sweet voice beg him to eat, to be safe, and take care of himself again. “There’s plenty, bub. ‘sides, I remember how much you liked it too” he replied, making you smile a little at the fact that he remembered how much you liked his cooking before fixing you a plate and then himself one. God you fucking missed him. “Thank you” you responded as you sat down and ate with him in peaceful silence that was only interrupted by the occasional small talk. A few stories here and there, some shared laughs, all almost felt completely natural again. Like you’d fallen back into your normal routine as if it had never been broken, but you knew the pining glances hadn’t gone unnoticed. You needed to talk with him, really talk with him. You couldn’t go about this life without him anymore.

Some time had passed after you both finished dinner, the tension between you and Logan had dwindled a bit as you both made your way over to the couch but there was still an invisible wedge between you. One you weren’t quite sure how to cross. You watched as Wade picked up a set of keys from the kitchen counter and made way for the door, claiming he and Althia were going to get dinner for themselves. “We’ll leave you two alone, but try not to wreck my apartment if you decide to have messy make up sex, ‘kay?” Wade said, making Logan almost snarl in anger and you even shot him a nasty glance. “Wilson!” Logan barked, sending Wade flying through the door with a giggle to be out of his line of sight and potentially his wrath. “He never was the king of reading a room” you said, making Logan scoff in amusement and agreement before taking a swig of his beer. “I did want to talk to you” you both said simultaneously, making you chuckle before you both stumbled over telling the other to go first. It was like being a teenager in love all over again.

“Logan I-“ “you don’t have to say anything you don’t want to. I don’t deserve an apology, not after I hurt you” he said, making you look to him with sympathy in your gaze. You knew that you were hard on him, but you didn’t realize truly how hard you’d been. “But you do” you responded softly grabbing his hand in yours, making him look down at your smaller hand wrapped around his much larger one. “I was selfish to be mad at you. I was selfish and cruel for saying the things that I did. What you did was something beyond heroic, something that I’m sure no one else would have ever even contemplated doing, much less actually have done. You did it because you knew what it was like to lose everyone that ever mattered to you in your timeline, and you didn’t want Wade to have to suffer the same” you added. “I was so blind by the thought of losing you again that I didn’t stop to think what a wonderful thing you’d truly done” you continued, shame lacing your tone as you admitted your wrongs, hoping and praying that he would accept your apology as you presented yourself at the most vulnerable you’d ever been. “I should’ve thought of what I would be leaving behind” he tried to say, and you stopped him before he could finish. “No, you have no need to apologize to me or think that way. I was wrong for treating you as if you’d left me that day, because you didn’t, you’re still here. You’re alive” you replied, your hand coming to rest softly on his cheek as you spoke to him, looking deep into his honey brown eyes that enchanted you since the first day you’d met him. “But I hurt you. I screamed at you, said terrible things that I regret every fuckin’ day. You had every right to walk away” he tried to say but again, you weren’t taking it. “Walking away from you was the worst mistake I have ever made, and I cannot even begin to tell you how sorry I am for making you feel wrong for trying to help someone in the way you helped Wade and this whole timeline” you replied, seeing what looked to be the starts of tears welling in his lash line as he looked to you while you spoke. “I’m so sorry Logan. And I know those words will never be enough undo the wrong and the hurt that I’ve caused but I hope you know that I mean it” you added, searching his eyes for any means of anger, any means of rejection. Yet you didn’t find it. All you found was longing. “I love you Logan. I love you so fucking much and I’m so fucking sorry” you apologized, hands cupping his face softly and tears welling to your eyes as a sob caught in your throat, praying it wasn’t too late to mend the bond you broke. “I’ve missed you so much…I don’t want to live this life, or any life without you in it. Nobody gets me like you” you spoke, your voice cracking slightly as tears streamed down your face. “I don’t want to lose you…” you whispered repeatedly through your cries, feeling him press his forehead against yours gently. “You won’t. I’m here, I’m right here bub” he said, and it was everything you needed to hear for so long.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere bub, I’m here” he assured, making you pull back enough to gaze into his eyes. “You promise?” You asked through sniffles and hiccups from your cries, searching his eyes for deceit but once again, you found none. “I promise. Missed you too much to ever do that” he said, making you smile the best you could through your tears. “C’mere pretty girl” he said, his large hand pulling you in closer before his lips slotted against your own. You were quick to loop your arms around his neck and keep him close against you as you kissed him back. It was passionate, filled with desire and warmth but intimate all the same. You chased each other’s lips with your own, not caring for the need for air that made your lungs burn from oxygen deprivation, caring more for the way you finally had one another again. Once you did part, you both panted to try and catch your breath, looking to one another as if to ask what next. “Think this belongs to you” he spoke, holding his dog tags out to you, making you chuckle as you looked down at them. “Are you sure?” You asked, but before you could even finish asking, he was already slipping it over your head, admiring the way it dangled from your neck. “Never been more sure” he answered, making you smile as you held it in your hand before kissing him once more. “I don’t deserve you” you said, pressing your forehead against his once more. “No, I don’t deserve you” he said, making you chuckle. “Yet we get each other in every timeline. Funny how that works, isn’t it?” You replied, making him laugh. “Wouldn’t want it any other way” he responded making you hum as you closed your eyes to enjoy the peacefully intimate moment with him. “Good, I don’t wanna see you with anyone but me” you said, making him laugh again at the irony that it was a lyric from the song that haunted him for the past eight months. “Don’t worry, never gonna happen” he responded, and for a moment he understood the perfect response.

“Nobody gets me like you, bub”

[yanderes-galore]

IM HERE AGAIN!! Anyways, can you do Yuji with your prompts 23 and 37 with a reader who keeps trying to escape?

I can try, sure! Doing an AU where you knew each other in Jujutsu High but once you graduated and grew older you went on to become advanced Sorcerers. It's unknown if Yuji still has Sukuna or not. Sorry if the plot isn't to your liking, I didn't have a lot to work with since Yuji is so tame on his own.

Yandere! Yuji Itadori Prompts 23 + 37

"You're crying... come a little closer, I'll make it all go away."

"We should get married! It's been long enough, hasn't it?"

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Kidnapping, Delusional behavior, Manipulation, Stalking, Isolation, Talks of marriage, Toxic themes, Clingy behavior, Slight starvation (You're choosing not to eat a lot), Implied mind break, Yuji is delusional yet a little lucid, Consensual turned forced relationship.

Yuji Itadori has been your boyfriend since graduation. He had been hopelessly in love with you ever since you two started to dedicate yourselves more to your field and each other. Life's been good in your eyes, especially since Yuji has only ever been getting better when handling himself.

So how did things get so bad?

Nowadays instead of being a happy couple, you're trapped in your apartment. Yuji was adamant when you both graduated to move in together. You both shared the rent and took care of one another.

You didn't mind that...

Until Yuji kept trying to keep you in the apartment.

You wonder what went wrong. Yuji always seemed like such a kind and innocent boyfriend. Always easily excited and clingy with you. It was cute.

You wonder if things began to go wrong when Yuji had brought up marriage.

You still remember when he first brought up the question. You had been dating for around five years when he bounded up to you with a grin on his face. Before you could even ask him what he was so eager about, he held both of your hands tightly.

"We should get married! It's been long enough, hasn't it?"

It was cute how excited he sounded when he brought it up. In fact, if you were ready for it you might've even considered it. He looked so happy.

However, as a new graduate, you were too focused on improving as a Sorcerer to consider marriage with your high school sweetheart. Curses still ran rampant even after graduation. So at the time, you were focused on your career.

"I'm sorry, baby..." You had said, your heart nearly breaking at the look of betrayal on your boyfriend's face. "It just doesn't seem safe right now... we both have a career to keep up with."

"R-Right... I understand!" Yuji has responded with a saddened smile, embracing you tightly.

Back then... you thought that was that.

You wanted to consider marriage in the future. You two had been together for a long time now. Although... you just wanted to focus on more important things right now.

However... now six years in... you begin to wonder if you should've just... accepted or called off the relationship entirely.

"Baby..." Yuji frowns softly, looking at you on the bed. In only a year you looked so much different than the graduate you once were. You looked tired and much thinner now. Yuji had been feeding you, but you just... didn't want any food from him.

"Baby, please look at me..." Yuji tries again, inching closer to sit on the bed. He feels guilt creep into him when he sees you curled in on yourself. Part of him knew this was his fault... but hated the idea of acknowledging it.

Recently you've been escaping the apartment a lot. It had started with arguments, you wanting to continue being a Sorcerer while Yuji wanted you to stay at home so he could protect you. But... every couple has their quarrels, no?

That is until Yuji felt he should be more strict. He begged you not to leave, that he was worried about you and wanted you to stay home. At first, you complied and stayed home a few days to soothe your boyfriend's worries.

Then he stopped letting you out.

Each time you left the apartment by sabotaging locks or playing nice, Yuji would chase you down again. For months you kept trying to leave, both the relationship and apartment. Yet Yuji never relented.

In his eyes you are meant to be together...

Delusional just enough to ignore how you feel about the situation.

Right up until you were curled up in your room, refusing to leave because, well, why bother?

Yuji perks up when he sees your body shudder. A breathy noise akin to a sob leaves your mouth, making Yuji's heart clench. He acts fast, throwing himself on the bed and holding out his arms.

"You're crying... come a little closer, I'll make it all go away." Yuji's words are comforting, as though you're both still loving partners. His embrace feels hot and cagey against your skin. However, you lean in reluctantly.

Did you love him even now?

Yuji is careful to be caring despite all that's happened. He kisses the top of your head lovingly as you sob against him. Hearing you sad makes his grip tighten... a glare thrown towards the wall as he thinks to himself.

He hopes you get better, he really does. He wants to make you his cute little spouse that he can take care of. Although, Yuji is willing to wait until you're feeling... better before bringing it up again.

"Love you so much it hurts...." Yuji murmurs, squeezing you affectionately as he nuzzles into your hair. You say nothing, which is expected, you did recently go against his house rules again.

But... that's okay! Yuji is aware of how determined you are. He just... needs to be patient and protect you like he always has been.

You may be upset now... yet he knows that will change. With a little more waiting... you two can be happy again! When another sob rocks your body, Yuji just holds you tighter... oblivious to how crushing his embrace is.

Partners must stick by one another, right?

He'll stick by you until you're better... then you two can go back to normal and maybe even get engaged!

He's already picked out the ring....

[bouncybongfairy]

Pretty Please?

Rick Sanchez x Fem Reader

Summary: Summer asks you to pet sit her hamster while her family goes on vacation. Of course, you agree because you're such an amazing friend. Definitely not because you and her grandpa would have the entire house for yourselves.

Word Count: 2.0k+

TW: Intox Kink, Worship Kink, Masochism, Dumbification, Nasty Smut

Best Ref Account Ever: @kaionyx

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

You were sitting with your friend group, eating lunch in the quad. Quite boring, the whole school seemed to be yearning for the end of the day. Summer was bragging about the ski trip her family would be leaving for, after school. In all honesty you truly couldn’t care less, happy for her, just not interested. Picking at your salad that had gone soggy as she went on and on. 

“Do you think you could do me like a real solid?” she asks, resting her hand on your shoulder. 

“What is it?” you asked with a sigh. 

“Well, I need someone to come and feed my hamster while I'm gone. I was hoping because you're like, my best friend ever, if you would do that for me?” she asked, trying hard to butter you up. 

“You want me to drive back and forth to your house to mine for 3 days?” you asked, trying to knock some sense into her. 

“Oh my god obviously you can stay in my room,” she said, rolling her eyes playfully. 

“Ugh isn’t your grandpa going to be there?” you asked. 

“Yeah but he won’t come out of the garage. Please I’m literally begging you,” she pleaded, “What if I leave you an eighth of bud?” she whispered in your ear. 

“Make it a quarter and I’ll do it,” you said, which delighted her beyond belief.

As soon as you got home, you started packing your bags. Starting to slightly regret ever agreeing to pet sitting. Folding your clothes and placing them neatly in your duffle. Suddenly it occurred to you that her grandpa would be home. Of course in front of Summer you put on a front like him being there would gross you out. When in reality every time you slept over at her house, you would find yourself staring at him. Taking in all his little details; like how far he spreads his legs when sitting on the couch. Or how his eyes dilate when he’s a little more than tipsy. Your mind started wondering about all the possibilities of how your visit would go. It wasn’t something you felt shame about. You had already made your way through all the halfway decent guys at your school. To be quite honest you’ve wanted to hookup with an older guy for a while. All the dudes you’d been with are just so inexperienced and you were tired of that. 

Summer and her mom picked you up. She needed to show you around before leaving. Helping you with the bags, the two of you make your way to her bedroom. Where she gave you the weed she promised, even leaving her bong for you to smoke with. Showing you how to work the T.V and of course introducing you to Mr. Man the hamster. You laughed for a good five minutes over the name. Once she headed out with her family, you immediately started rolling up. Dumping the guts out her window, landing in Jerry’s garden, you felt bad but not really. As soon as you took a few hits off the blunt, you noticed it was strong. Giving you an intense head high, it did make you feel more relaxed. For a moment you were certainly feeling out of place. Getting bored, you start shuffling through your bag, looking for pajamas to wear. Immediately your mind went to Rick, thinking about what pare he would like the most. When you first got to the house, it felt wrong to think about him that way. After smoking, you really didn’t give a fuck. Even if Rick told Summer which is highly unlikely because.. Ew. Losing Summer’s friendship in exchange for hooking up with Rick sounded like a fair deal. You only took a couple hits off the blunt, after putting it out, you tuck it behind your ear. Making sure to stuff the lighter in your sock for safe keeping. Grabbing the hamster food, you put a couple scoops into his bowl. 

“You’re such a cute little guy, i’m about to fuck your great-grandpa. Don’t tell mommy,” you baby talked to him through the glass while giggling. 

Wearing a white oversize t-shirt with socks, you make your way down stairs. Hoping to run into him, the first place you checked was the kitchen. Even though you didn’t find him, it was a prime opportunity to raid the fridge. Taking a jar of pickles out and setting them on the counter before opening the freezer. Finding a dark green bottle with a white label with big X’s across it. Bringing it out and setting it on the counter with a crisp -clank- sound as the glass hit the counter. The bottle opened with a loud pop which made you giggle a bit. You brought it to your nose and immediately recoiled at the pungent aroma. 

“Smells like fucking rubbing alochol,” you mutter to yourself, grabbing a cup and pouring some. 

It wasn’t like you were a stranger to alcohol, you’d been drunk plenty of times. Thinking it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle, you chug what you had in the cup. You truly felt like the wind was knocked out of you. The coughing and gasping was only making your chest burn more. Taking a few sips of water from the sink to help wash it down. Similar to the weed, the effects of the alcohol were coming on quick and strong. Your cheeks were flushed and you no longer were worried about appearing sober. A gasp of excitement falls from your lips as you remember the existence of the pickles. Your mouth was salivating as you pulled one out of the jar. 

“What are you doing?” a rough voice rang through the kitchen from the doorway. You jump, turning around to face him. 

One of the first things you noticed about him was how tall he was. Seriously, his head nearly hit the fucking ceiling. Eyes had thick, dark circles underneath them; this only added to his grumpy edge-lord vibe. He was wearing a wifebeater tank that was smudged with black soot. Shamelessly staring at the dick print on his pants. 

“I'm pet-sitting for Summer,” you said, unable to hide your giggles. He started walking towards you, till he was literally less than a foot in front of you. This wipes the smile off your face, he reaches out and grabs the bottle that was sitting on the counter behind you. 

“You drank this?” he asked, his breath smelled just like the bottle. 

“Yeah -hiccup- sorry, but is it okay if I have another sip?” you asked while reaching for the bottle. At first, Rick held it out of your reach but then changed his mind. Taking a few swings from the bottle and then handing it to you. His hand just barely touched your chest as he gave you the bottle. Instantaneously making you wet, well.. wetter. 

“If you wanna drink yourself sick that’s your choice,” he said before turning and walking back to the garage. 

Not quite done shooting your shot, you follow him. Due to the room being made entirely of concrete, it was freezing. It was then that you remember how little clothing you had on. 

“Out!” he called out. 

“I’m scared and lonely all by myself in there, pretty please let me stay?” you asked, which made him turn towards you. You could feel the heat build in your belly as he approached. 

“Awe you’re just so scared? I think it’s slightly endearing how you’re trying to play innocent but I know a whore when I see one. No offense but you’re low hanging fruit,” he said, now towering over you with a smirk on his face. 

“Fuck if you don’t wanna fuck me then why are you saying these thing, making me drip down my thigh?” you asked, reaching down to hook your hand onto his belt. He smacks your hand away before responding, 

“I’m a fucking god, I have queens on thousands of planets offering their ass to me on a plater. Why would I stick my dick in you?” he asked. In response you poured out some of the bottle onto the floor, right onto his shoes. At first he looked livid, like he was going to lay into you but you interrupted him,

“Oops sorry I can be so dumb at times, let me clean that for you,” you said, getting onto your knees and bringing your tongue to his shoes. Licking the alcohol off them while looking directly up to him. He chuckled, like he was humored by your actions. 

“Judging by how you’re throwing yourself at me, I bet you were craving my cock for weeks. Every time you’re here I always notice you staring at me, who would’ve known you had such nasty thoughts behind those pretty little eyes,” he said, tilting his head as he watched. Taking the blunt out from behind your ear and placing it between his lips. 

“May I light that for you?” you asked, pressing your cheek to his shoe, trying your best to flash your doe eyes. 

He used his finger to call you up. Scrambling to your feet, you pull the lighter out of your sock. Bringing the flame to his face, admiring his features in the orange glow. He looked so powerful and strong, you wanted him to tear you apart. He blew the smoke directly into your face, you took a playful bite out of the cloud. Grabbing the bottle from you, he pours more onto his shoes. You took his hint and went back down, now licking the bitter liquid off his other shoe. Taking you off guard, he brings his other foot and presses the soul into your neck. At first you were giggling, liking the way he was degrading you. This was until he began adding more pressure onto your airway. Even as you were gasping and wheezing, you couldn’t stop yourself from admiring him. The way his jaw went razor sharp while exhaling a cloud of smoke. Watching his facial expression twist from a small smile to full on beam. Your vision was becoming blurry and a familiar burning sensation radiating in your chest. 

Finally removing the pressure from your neck, coughing as you regain your full consciousness and breath. He bent down and pulled you up to your feet. A mixture of inebriation and lack of oxygen to your blood made him need to support your weight partly. He grabbed your shirt and lifted it above your head and threw it to the ground. Still slightly light headed, he grabbed your jaw so he could stare directly into your eyes. Reaching his other hand down, and feeling the wetness between your folds. You shudder and let your mouth fall open, now fully aware. He was shocked by how wet you were. Completely untouched and being treated like an absolute dog and you were still hanging on to his every touch and word. Staring at him, half-lidded and willing to take anything he gave you. This was enough to send him into a feral state. Without saying anything he picked you up and bent you over the desk. He used his foot to push your legs apart. Bringing your arms behind yourself, using your hands to spread yourself open.

“Holy shit you’re such a deranged little cocksleeve, you just eat my abuse up huh,” he said, pulling his pants down and fucking the entire length of his cock into your pussy. You cry out from him practically ripping you in half. Tears sting into your eyes and your legs that are on their tiptoes begin shaking. A mixture of moans and choked sobs spill from your mouth. He lifts your upper body from laying against his desk to being pressed against his chest. Using your throat to secure you there while whispering into your ear,

“What’s wrong slut, I thought you wanted this. You wanna stop? Maybe you can’t handle it,” he practically growled, still keeping himself fully inside you. 

“No. P-please,” you cried out, willing to do anything to get friction between your bodies. 

“Oh? You want me to keep tearing you apart? Beg me to,” he said, tightening his grip on your throat.

“Please, I w-want you to destroy me!” you screamed out, willing to do anything to get him fucking into you. 

Once the words left your mouth, he began pounding into you at an alarming rate. Your wetness was leaking down both of your inner thighs. Letting your body go limp, letting him do whatever he wanted. He kept your back pressed against his chest, admiring your chest bouncing as he killed your pussy. Feeling you stretch and tighten around his dick was driving him crazy. It was more than your physique that was satisfying him. It was the fact that you were so horny from being at his command and control. He liked how easy you were to manipulate, how willing you were to be turned into a braindead, cock hungry zombie. Feeling his orgasm nearing, his thrusts were becoming more erratic and sloppy. Fucking into you so hard that sound was involuntarily being forced out of you with every thrust. As you begin to cum, you start panting, completely blissed out. Feeling your cunt clamp down on his cock as you rode out your orgasm sent him over the edge. Filling you with hot cum, spilling out the sides of your pussy. After the encounter you completely blacked out, passed out. He let you stay slumped over that portion over the desk. Cum still leaking out of your abused hole. Simply pushing your body over to the side slightly after pulling his pants up. Reliting the blunt and ashing onto your ass before continuing working on his latest project.