#this is the closest to heaven i’ll ever get

[pine4pple-b0i]

currently GEEKING over listening to roger clark teach me history via arthur morgan’s voice lmao

[goosewraith]

thinking about costco rotisserie chicken again

[yanderenightmare]

TW: implied nsfw, implied noncon/dubcon, poly yanderes, sprained ankle, captive reader, apocolypse au, talk of fertility, murder of unnamed characters, mentions of potentially killing reader

fem reader

Just thinking about the apocalypse, the two army men who’ve long survived it in their shelter with barely any trouble, and then you, a poor girl trying hard to outrun your last captives only to run into them.  

You didn’t realize back then that it was like trading piranhas for sharks, too caught up in begging for their aid to think better of it. You should have just kept running, but your ankle was sprained badly, maybe even broken, and you were wearing so little you would most likely have died from the cold during the night if they hadn’t taken you in.

It seems unfair of them to have kept the giant bunker all to themselves, only the two of them, but you don’t judge. You would likely have kept it all to yourself as well.

This new world has bred new humans, and they’re all monsters. It’s honestly quite surprising they’d even let you in, given this is what they’re protecting, this sanctuary from the past, a comfort most people would kill their closest friend in exchange for.

Trust is all but dead, and so is honor or any other morality—you would know, you’ve lived out there for it all, only having survived by spreading your legs at the right moments. It’s a shameful tactic, and many times, you’ve wondered if it wouldn’t have been better to spare yourself and just die. What was the purpose?

This—you think. This must be it. They have showers and working hot water.

You don’t know how it’s possible—the original owners of the shelter must have been some type of millionaire. You haven’t had a warm shower since the world went to shit—years ago. It’s been a choice of waiting for rain or finding a lake, hoping it wasn’t rancid. Meanwhile, they have soap—scented soap, the lush kind you’d forgotten existed. It feels so nice you have to cry—rejoice—sobbing while lathering yourself, watching all the filth go down the drain, leaving you smooth-skinned once again for the first time in forever. You can’t remember having ever been so clean before, feeling reborn.

They have fresh clothes for you too—new socks and underwear, all clean fabrics, so much more than what you wore—pants, a shirt, and a sweater to keep warm. You didn’t know there still existed people who lived like the old days—you’d thought it was long gone, a bittersweet dream you sometimes have the pleasure of at night instead of the usual nightmares. Never had you thought you’d experience anything even remotely similar, but here you are—looking yourself in the mirror after so long, surprised to see a human looking back at you.

And they feed you. Not scraps, not leftovers, not rot, or days-old flesh from the last successful hunt—but freshly baked bread, vegetables, fruit—for fuck’s sake, they even have juice. You cry again while eating, and then you find yourself begging them again, “Please, let me stay—please, I’ll do anything. I can cook, clean, work—anything at all, I can do it, just please let me stay…”

You’re on your knees, forehead pressed to the heated metal floors—toasty and comforting, you think you could sleep better than ever right there.

“We’ll think about it,” one of them mutters as he gathers the plates. His voice was so harsh he might as well have said, not a chance. It’s clear by his frown that he’d rather send you right out again, leave you to the monsters.

“We’ll at least let you stay until your ankle heals, so don’t worry.” The other is more sympathetic, helping you up. “For now, let’s get you to bed. You must be exhausted.”

It hadn’t crossed your mind that they’d have beds—actual real soft downy mattresses and duvets and pillows. The two of you help make it together. It feels so foreign that you wonder if you might have died earlier. Some years back, you wouldn’t have thought heaven would resemble a prison cell, but now it only made sense—safe metal walls and a bed. What more could one possibly want in the world?

“I’ll wrap your leg for you if you sit.” He holds out a bandage roll, gesturing to your ankle.

Blinking, you can’t even register what he’d just offered until he’s getting down on his knees before you.

You panic, then. Bandages are hard to come by—it hardly seems worth it. “There’s no blood, you shouldn’t waste it—”

“It’ll heal better and faster this way,” he adds reassuringly. His voice is so soft and compelling that you find yourself sitting down without further quarrel, even when it makes you feel spoiled.

He’s gentle with you—holding you steady while wrapping it just tightly enough to be supportive. There hasn’t been a man who’s touched you like it.

“Does that feel okay?”

You can barely tell he’s talking to you. It’s all so lost on you that you can only wordlessly nod your head.

He fastens it just as carefully before standing. “Is there anything else you might need?”

You shake your head just as wordlessly. You can’t believe how nice he’s being. It makes no sense at all. Not in this world. Not anymore.

“I’m sorry, but I’m gonna have to lock the door,” he apologizes with a sheepish look once standing on the threshold.

You’d been stuck thinking about how warm the room was, trying to remember a single time you hadn’t been freezing during the night. “That’s okay, I understand,” you say. After all, what’s a locked door in comparison?

“Good,” he smiles—it’s likely the kindest smile you’ve ever seen. “Alright then, good night.”

Once again, you’re left stunned. The last time you’d heard those words spoken must have been from a loved one long since dead. It makes your lip wobble again as you say it back, “Good night.”

It's strange—they could have left you for dead but didn’t. They don’t seem gullible—they can’t be if they’ve managed to protect this place for so long—but you suppose there still exist men who have a soft spot in their hearts for helpless damsels in distress.

As you sink into the comfort, draping your duvet atop your battered body, you don’t even care about the camera in the ceiling—blinking red while watching you.

“Did you have to bandage her up?” he grumbles as the other walks into the bedroom after having said his goodnights to you. 

He’s already in bed, observing through the cameras on a tablet—you were currently curling into the duvet, wrapping it around you close for comfort. You’d likely not slept on anything so soft in a while—it wouldn’t surprise him if you preferred the floor. But no, you drift asleep quite quickly.

“You know how badly things can heal without proper support,” the other answers, regarding it as no big deal. “And besides, it’s not like we often need it—we have plenty to spare.”

He removes his clothes and crawls onto the bed as well, lifting the covers to slot himself right next to the other man, who still has a scowl on his face.

“Oh, come on…” he drawls. “She’s exactly what we’ve been talking about, isn’t she?”

The grump doesn’t answer, still with keen eyes watching you, even as you’ve fallen asleep—as if waiting for you to do something befitting a wild animal in a cage. The other’s eyes fall to the screen as well, but he only awes in delight.

“Look at her, already fast asleep,” he purrs while zooming in on your face. “I mean, did you see how she was begging earlier, what she said? I’d do anything,” he continues, almost whining. “So cute, I could have fucked her right then and there.”

The other man sets the tablet aside with a disagreeing sigh. “We’ll wait at least a week for her system to detoxify from the wasteland,” he says strictly. “I’m not touching her before then, and neither are you unless you want to sleep alone.”

The other groans then, flopping down on his back. “Yeah, yeah, you and your safety protocols,” he dismisses before a smirk creeps up his face, glee twinkling in his eyes as he looks up at his grouchy counterpart. “But then we keep her, right?”

“Tch—we don’t even know if she’s fertile. The wasteland could have made her barren as long as she’s been out there,” the other shuffles down into the sheets as well, turning to look at his partner and the awfully keen look on his face.

“So we test her. Give her a medical check,” he says, again as if it’s not a problem, even when it very well could turn out to be.

They’ve already broken quarantine rules by letting you in here—and who knows what your real objectives truly are.

“I don’t trust her,” he states.

The other pouts. “I don’t see what one little lady can do—she’s hardly a threat. And we already purged the group that was following her. I doubt any of them made it out alive.”

True, he had gone out and sent several gas grenades into the settlement. Surely, none of them managed to escape, but then again—

“Pest control only works when you kill them all, and we’ve just let one inside our own house,” he grumbles.

The other one sighs. “Okay, so if it turns out she isn’t as cute as she looks, we’ll deal with her like the rest. But if I’m right, and she really is just a harmless little thing, we keep her, and I get to have the first go.”

Suppose there isn’t anything better to do aside from killing you straight away, which would only have been a waste of food, water, clothes, and bandages. 

“Fine.”

The other grins at the agreeance, humming, “I guess until then, we’ll just have to make do with each other—I've been hard since we watched her shower.” He leans forward for contact but is shut down as his bedmate rolls around with his back turned to him.

“Tch—take care of it yourself.” Tonight has been too stressful to tug each other’s dicks. 

He can hear him whine behind him, but he settles down soon enough.

Suppose it would be nice fucking a woman again. It’s been so many years he figured he wouldn’t need it anymore. They’ve made do with each other so far. But even he can’t deny, once you’d washed all the blood and muck off, once he saw the dewy hue of your soft skin and the silk of your hair, all those plush curves, and not to mention that awfully sweet look on your face—he felt the tug in his pants too.

He'll do a medical check on you tomorrow. He hopes you’re fertile. But even if you’re not, he might give in to the other’s wishes and keep you anyway. After all, they might have many luxuries, but the comfort of pussy is one they haven’t had in a long, long, long time.

♡ BNHA – KiriBaku, BakuDeku, ShinKami, DabiHawks, EndHawks, ErasurMic ♡ JJK – SatoSugu, ItaFushi, SukuIta, ♡ HQ – Miya twins, KageHina, BokuAka, ♡ CSM – AkiDen, YoshiDen ♡ BLLK – NagiReo

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[avocado-writing]

cutman

turns out I’m gonna keep being horny for hugh jackman. had a crush on him when I was 10 and I guess that hasn’t changed almost 20 years later. anyway here’s a fic where he’s in a cage fight and you’re his cutman xoxo

pairing: wolverine x reader

rating: explicit

cws: blood, injury details, smut (dirty talk, semi-public sex, rough sex)

The bell rings and Logan staggers back to you, the roar of the crowd meaning you have to get close in order to be heard. You grab ahold of his biceps and manoeuvre him into a chair. He goes without complaint, any effort to resist having to be reserved for the actual fight itself. Opposite him, the other guy goes to grab a glass of water and you are once again reminded of his sheer mass; he’s twice Logan’s size and built like a fucking freight train. He catches you watching and hits you with a greasy smile, and you turn in disgust back to your lover. 

“How you holding up, honey?” you ask Logan, quickly glancing him over, getting a grunt in reply as he tries to refocus. He looks pretty bad. Bruising is flowering on his face and there’s a nasty gash on his forehead which is bleeding freely. You know he’ll heal up quick on his own, but you still get to work - pressing the ice-cold enswell to the worst of the spreading purple and dabbing at the blood with an epinephrine-soaked cotton swab. 

You’ve been called the best cutman in the business. This is true, but the fact your primary patient can heal himself up is probably a bit of a bonus too. For Logan, you’re mostly here to soothe; soothe and observe. 

“Okay, you’ve fucking got him, Logan. He’s weak on his left. He keeps trying to lead with his right hand which isn’t his dominant, I think he’s holding back because you’ve fucked his shoulder. If you don’t let him distract you, you can finish him off. You hear me?”

He focuses up at the smell of chemicals, eyes hazily locking in on you. Silhouetted by the grimy lights of this place, his vision not quite sharp yet, you have the hazy glow of a halo around you. An angel sent for him. The closest to heaven he’ll ever be. 

“Yeah,” he mutters, a bloodied hand coming up to caress your face. You smile despite the smear of red he leaves on your cheek with his fingertips, clasping him close. You press a kiss into his palm.

“What did I say, handsome? Stay with me.”

“Don’t let him distract me. Go for his left.”

“Atta boy,” you say with a grin, one which Logan manages to mirror despite still feeling slightly concussed, your praise like a shot of adrenaline. You surge forward to kiss him and he meets you with enthusiasm. He’s drunk on the moment, on the fight, on you. You can taste the copper as your tongue slides against his, the roughness of his beard scraping your cheeks. The crowd cheers leerily but you both ignore it. You and him, that’s all there is, the pinprick of your existence in this vast world. 

“I fucking love you,” he growls against your mouth. You nip at his lower lip, catching it for a second between your teeth in a promise of what’s to come later. 

“Finish this guy off and take me home, Logan. I’ll fucking die if you’re not inside me tonight.”

When you pull back you will be wearing his blood as lipstick, warpaint; a reminder that you belong to each other. 

He snarls, half-feral, and you think he might just take you there in the cage, in front of everyone who’s come to watch him fight. But the bell goes again to signal the start of the final round, and Logan staggers back to his feet instead. 

He doesn’t even get you home. 

When the fight is won and you’re hoarse from cheering his victory, he drags you into one of the dingy little bathrooms. It’s dark and definitely not soundproofed but the two of you don’t care. You run your tongue along that delicious vein in his bicep, tasting the salt off of his hot skin, and he grips your thighs so hard you know that he will leave bruises in the shape of his fingerprints. 

“Mark me up, Logan. Let everyone see who I belong to, baby.”

“Fuck, such a dirty little mouth,” he growls, but you can hear the gruff chuckle in there too. He lifts you onto the sink like you weigh nothing, tearing at your belt and jeans so that he can get proper access to you. He’s rock hard, cock straining in his hand as he pulls himself out, and you wonder if he’s been this turned on since before the last round. 

Usually you’d sink to your knees and encourage him to fuck your throat, let him bring you to tears before he made it up to you, but he has no such patience now. He needs to sheathe himself in you, find your tight heat and bury himself there again and again. He’s about to push inside when you grab his forearm. 

He looks up with a glint of worry in his eye. You know, just for a second, that he thinks he’s hurt you. He’d stop if you asked him to, sweet little puppy. Instead you give him another ferocious kiss. 

“I wanna turn around. Wanna watch you fuck me.” You nod to the dirty mirror over the sink and he makes a deep noise of agreement in the back of his throat, manhandling you so you can brace yourself on the porcelain. 

You moan as he fucks inside of you with one vicious push, throwing your head back to reflect the long line of your neck. You see mirrored the dual look of feral desire and total adoration in his face as he fucks you like he’s been challenged to make your legs stop working. Holding on the best you can, you watch his injuries from the fight heal slowly, wounds stitching closed by themselves, bruises receding from purple to brown to nothing at all. It’s that sort of regeneration that makes him beg for you to draw blood when you bite him as you fuck, just to leave the proof on his body a little longer that you’ve been there. That you’ve loved him. 

“Fucking love you, Logan,” you cry out as he slams so hard into you he threatens to break the fucking sink. He leans over and grabs you by the hair, moving your face so that he can kiss you with more teeth and tongue than lips. You love it. 

“Mine,” he chokes. You wrap your little hands round one of his, bloodied and rough. 

“Mine,” you echo back, sinking your teeth in. 

[peppermint-toads]

you don’t like doctor’s offices. especially not now. you don’t like the hypnotic hum of the fluorescent lights, the cabinets that’ve been there since the late 80’s, the pamphlets sitting in an acrylic holder telling you that you have options.

options. not anymore. because you’re sitting on the examination table about 16 weeks pregnant, waiting for the doctor.

“the baby looks healthy,” the doctor tells you, barging into the room without a knock. “i’m prescribing zofran for the nausea. the nurse will see you out.”

thank fucking god. you wanted nothing more than to get the fuck out of this place. the best part about these visits was the walk home. they are usually quite pleasant. being pregnant in the summertime has its downfalls, but feeling the breeze in your hair and through your thin dress is your saving grace.

it’s just another bonus that you pass your favorite ice cream shop on the way home. you think you’ll have an affogato today, decaf, of course.

it smells like heaven in the shop, that cool, sweet smell from the coolers. your favorite. this is your saving grace, this affogato will solidify the day as a good one, despite the lingering feeling of doctor on you.

ice cream in hand, it’s finally time to go home. the walk is clearing your head already. you eat a spoonful of vanilla and sigh. maybe you ought to stop by the pharmacy for those meds. on second thought, that can be tomorrow’s task. you’ll be alright.

actually, maybe not. because you see simon riley’s stupid, bulking form walking towards you about a block away. fuck. shit fuck. you should hide. duck into the closest shop before he can come after you. but it’s no hope, you’re looking up and you’ve already made direct eye contact. nausea meds sound so good right now.

may as well keep going forward. it’s not like he’ll notice, anyway. you’re barely showing, but your white dress isn’t doing you any favors right now.

you’ll give a polite smile, duck your head, and all will be well. no stopping, no small talk, no—

simon is physically cornering you to a complete halt in the middle of the sidewalk, and there is nothing you can do about it. maybe if you curl your back in a little bit, the bump won’t be as noticeable.

“what are you doing? stop that.”

he is so gracefully referring to your posture.

“i don’t have time for this simon. i’ve got things to do.”

you walk sideways around him, and he follows.

“where are you coming from?”

you can’t help it. “you lost the right to ask that question when you fell off the face of the planet.”

you hear him grunt behind you and smile. great, no snide comments yet.

“you look different.”

shit. he’s jogging, catching up to you and walking by your side now. the breeze is picking up and you shift uncomfortably. the fabric of your dress is clinging to your stomach.

simon looks down, his intent is to see what you’re eating, but he catches a glimpse of your swollen stomach and freezes. he’s nearly swallowed by all the foot traffic.

“simon?” you feel the loss of him by your side. he’s stood still, strangers bumping into him and jostling his shoulders.

great. now you’re backtracking, when really all you want is to be at home, in bed.

“simon, what’s your problem?”

“you’re pregnant.”

time stops for him. he’s the father, no way he couldn’t be. unless you were cheating on him, which he highly doubts considering your heart is the purest thing he’s ever encountered during his time on this earth.

you let out a long, long sigh. “yeah.”

then you’re swaying, trying to keep upright and simultaneously swallowing down vomit. simon watches as the life drains from your face a bit. his hands are gripping your shoulders to stabilize you. his touch feels nice, warm.

“i need to get home,” you tell him with a sad smile, pained to be leaving his soft touch behind yet again.

“i’ll walk you.”

you nod. you don’t have the heart to ask him to take his hand off your waist, feels too good. and he’s keeping the world right side up.

it’s only a short distance home, and soon he’s ushering you up the stairs to your flat. you don’t stop him from doing that, either.

you also don’t stop him from pulling your favorite blanket over you after helping you lie down on the couch.

you don’t even get the chance to tell him to leave because you’re just so tired, and his presence makes you feel so safe. you’re falling asleep and quickly. he lets you.

he sits and watches you sleep for the better part of an hour. when you stir, he’s there, staring.

he’s in your lounge chair, chin resting on his folded knuckles.

“i’m sorry you didn’t feel like you could tell me.”

you’re barely awake and what’s he saying? “huh?” you say stupidly, wiping your eyes of sleep.

“i said,” he swallows, “i’m sorry you didn’t feel like you could tell me.”

you’re sitting straight up now, definitely more awake now. “i couldn’t have told you. even if i wanted to. you disappeared, simon.

he did. but he doesn’t have the time to explain that now. so, he ignores you.

“how far along are you?”

you tell him. he stands from the chair, sitting down right next to you. he asks if he can feel your stomach. you guess so.

things are getting a little too serious for you now.

“right, well. i had a lovely nap, and i’m feeling much better. thank you for walking me home, but i need to stop by the pharmacy and—”

he interrupts you, tugging your wrist when you try to stand. “i’ll go for you. i’ll do it, please. i’ll do anything you ask me to.

you frown down at him. “simon, there’s no point to this. please just go. it’s just… too late.”

simon’s heart is breaking. he didn’t think it could break anymore than it already has in the last few months.

“let me stay.”

he begs. you think there are tears in his eyes, and if you let them fall you know there’ll be no going back. so you sit with him, you let him kiss you with his hand on your stomach. you let him lay you down on the beat up couch he was always pestering you to replace. you let him pull your dress over your head and kiss his way down your stomach. you let him sink into you slowly and pull your calves up to rest on his shoulders. you let him cum inside of you, again.

you even let him go to the pharmacy for you.

[sapphiclinguist]

watching a girl play with her sensitive nipples is the closest to heaven I’ll ever get

[fandomnerd9602]

Y/N-Juice kneels before Astrid…

Y/N: my afterlife before you was nonexistent. Astrid, you are the light at the end of my tunnel. The closest to heaven I’ll ever see. You gave my dead heart a reason to beat again. Will you marry me?

Astrid: yes! yes!!

Astrid hugs and kisses them…

Lydia smacks Beetlejuice upside the head…

Lydia; see? that’s how you propose!

Beetlejuice: I get it. I see it now.

[missydior]

love letters ౨ৎ

notes: charles leclerc x reader, friends to lovers, humour, fluff, confessions, this is both a smau & written piece.

a/n: one of my favourite tropes ever: guilty. this feels a little messy but I had a lot of fun writing it.

౨ৎ

liked by friendusername, charlesleclerc and 313,983 others

yourusername: hello from the birthday girl here <3 thank you so much for all of the kind messages, wishes & gifts. sending lots of love

3,122 comments

friendusername: happy bday to our favourite girl ever 🍰🫶🏼

yourusername: 🤍🤍🤍

user1: happy birthday to our favourite paddock princessss

charlesleclerc: did you like the cake I bought you then, or?

yourusername: I loved it until you threw half of it in my face

charlesleclerc: it tasted nicer that way

franciscagomes: bday girl !!

yourusername: i love youu

franciscagomes: i love you more 🤍

pierregasly: what about me?

franciscagomes: today is about y/n. shush.

౨ৎ

I. Your Birthday.

After hours spent with café au lait and too much maple syrup on pancakes in the morning with gift receiving and wishes, a quiet luncheon with those closest to your heart, enjoying the beauty of the shores and rosé champagne, evening eventually settles in a beautiful colour against the heavens of Monaco.

You have never been one for the dramatics or high attention of crowds, settling on an intimate celebratory affair amongst close friends and family: pretty dresses and glasses of Lavender French '75 or those strawberry daiquiris that Ésme is in love with; a sweet, favourite song heard in the background.

Charles arrives fashionably late, the collar of his white-linen shirt loosened and soft, dark-brunet hair slightly tousled as he comes near, the sight of a smile on his face you've always loved, dimples revealed.

There is a certain relief that comes with being graced by his presence, like you had been silently longing and waiting for his greeting before anybody else's, though you disguise it from any chance of teasing.

"(Y/N)," Your name rolls off his tongue like caramel, accentuated as he shifts to kiss both your cheeks in friendly affection before he chuckles at your expression, "Happy birthday." Mon ange.

"Thank you," You breathe, a laugh falling past your mouth at the sight of him in manifestation, inclining your head when you look at him through your lashes, "I was beginning to think you forgot."

"Forget? Me?" The Monegasque exclaims as though wounded, placing his hand to his chest though the smile about his sun-kissed visage never dissipates, stealing a nearby glass of champagne, "Never. I had some work to finish."

There is an edge of teasing beneath your looks, a dance of butterflies in your stomach when he touches the small of your back fleetingly as he shifts past with that signature wink of his, all friendly and humorous in years of friendship, and yet your heart stutters.

You almost say something else, confessions and thoughts that want to erupt from your chest like love letters you have never sent – certain it is merely the liquor fogging your judgement – but he's wandered away with a final promise before a syllable can come forth.

"Let me get the birthday girl a drink, oui?"

liked by franciscagomes and 311,646 others

yourusername: july with my favourite people <3

mentioned charlesleclerc, friendusername, franciscagomes and two others

1,354 comments

user1: literal angels

user2: second pic is definitely y/n and charles

friendusername: you still owe me another ice cream 🍨

yourusername: sorry bby, i’ll be at your front door with a double vanilla ice cream soon <3

franciscagomes: 🤍🤍

౨ৎ

II. At the beach.

Warm light kisses your skin like heavenly delight, a forgotten copy of Paris' Vogue beside where you are currently bathing with a finished strawberry lemonade, long lashes fluttering when you open your eyes to gaze at the skies above in the heat of July, a mosaic of white and cerulean about the Côte d'Azur.

Most of the others have momentarily departed for the nearby café for new sweet treats, though you are consciously aware of a half-dozing Charles Leclerc nearby against the slight flush down the bridge of his nose and eyelashes that ghost about his cheekbones where he is lying.

Pure bliss; perfect heaven.

"Charles?"

It takes him a second, the mention of his name rousing him to blink out of a hazy hint of a dream with the tilt of his chin towards the direction of your voice that calls to him like an angel's symphony, squinting against the haze of light before a lazy, boyish smile reveals his pearlescent teeth, "Mm?"

Shifting upright, consciously trying not to stare at him for too long though you have come to simply welcome and fall used to the sight of his naked chest, all smooth ridges and lean muscle, you absently adjust the ribbons of your pretty bikini and reach for sun cream.

"Do you think you could help me put some on my back, please?" You ask politely, offering him the item whilst shifting on your knees and gathering the edges of your hair over your shoulder that have fallen loose.

He does not respond initially, not until he's sat upright and shifted closer with a kind edge of a smile that dances across his face, "Oui."

Charles does not hesitate or take advantage of the circumstances, applying the fine lotion against the curve of your shoulders with gentle ministrations and lower down, fingertips feather-light, careful not to linger too long.

The act feels oddly intimate as you gaze towards the serene shores, like his touch is meant for the most secret parts of you, an unconscious shiver and the subtle arching of your vertebrae when he traces a particular area. Whether he notices or not, there is no indication given, instead continuing in a method that seems entirely platonic but leaves an ache in your stomach.

"Merci," You tell him once the deed is most finished and he draws away, shifting just enough to offer a look of him from the corner of your eye in a gratuitous smile.

You wonder if how his gaze lingers is the same way yours does, like a painting worth admiring or a flower in emergence, heart thrumming quicker under your sternum before the moment is broken when he clears his throat.

"Of course."

౨ৎ

III. A dinner.

Caffè Milano, a quaint but fanciful and warm establishment tucked in the quiet luxuries of Monaco's principality with its dancing chandeliers, oak-varnished furniture and beloved menu.

A semblance of familiarity, pleasantry and polished glasses clinking against the rhythm of conversation amongst friends in the warm afternoon: a lingering aroma of roses from the centrepiece décor neatly arranged and fine cuisine.

"– Non, I am not lying," Pierre is recounting a recent, humorous anecdote of experience, thumb idly tracing the edge of his wine glass whilst you and the others listen on, your cheeks beginning to hurt from how much you have laughed in the recent half-an hour, idly toying with the necklace resting at the hollow of your throat in common fashion.

"You are." Francisca frowns, albeit fondly.

Your concentration is removed from their talk when there is a subtle caress against the ankle bone, a touch beneath the furniture and a fleeting glance from your peripheral sight at the Monégasque beside you, all handsome smiles and that addictive song of laughter whilst a stray hair falls about his eyebrow, though he does not seem to show any degree of deliberation or notice that his shoe idly touches you there.

You have the urge to hold him, caress him, to press a thousand, butterfly kisses along his jaw and say something you should not. Instead, you continue to listen and nurse the last of your Château-Chalon.

1,596 likes

f1gossip: y/n at the grand prix this weekend <3 our paddock princess is back

mentioned yourusername

333 comments

user1: she looks divineee

user2: charles and y/n friends to lovers when?

user3: leave them alone, they’re just friends and have been since childhood

౨ৎ

IV. A balcony.

Charles had forgotten his keys somewhere and, until his dear brother could come and return them, you had offered the warmth of your welcomed apartment: all minimalist but homely in décor against a palette of cream, white and the like all complemented by paintings and furniture.

One hour had melted into two by the late afternoon with dusk's slow kiss, hints of lilac and grey in the edge of the skies, your cats curled contently on the plush chaise lounge and resting after endless affections from the Monégasque who seemed to be in love with them.

"Can I join you?"

The voice – honest and clear, albeit a fraction amused – is recognisable as you are drawn out of reverie on the balcony of rocaille motifs, gazing into quiet streets below and the nearby public gardens flourishing with flora, gnawing at your inner cheek as you look to the man where he leans against the threshold, a look in his eye that comes with a subtle indulgence after he stole your favourite bottle of rosé in the kitchenette.

"Of course, yes." Always.

He stands beside you, a few inches apart with his elbow resting against the intricate balustrade when he follows your dreamy stare for a moment, lost in his own thoughts. There is a comfort between the two of you, something you know must come from years of familiarity:

An seemingly endless, innocent youth that manifested in its complications as you aged and neared adolescence, like an evening primrose that flowers and sometimes falls apart, but always returns, even changing with senescence. With age.

You can feel his gaze, almost like an internal, silent imploration for your own, the edges of your fingers and nails polished in a rose quartz-esque varnish that glitters prettily in the evening, and his lips are parted just enough as if wanting to say something before they curve a little higher on the edges, his words hushed.

"Have you ever thought about love?"

Your eyebrows raise a fraction, though it is not so unexpected of a question and one that has been on the edge of your tongue since forever, even with the doubtful inkling that he has merely enjoyed too much wine.

"Sometimes," All of the time. You murmur, a soft, breathless chuckle following as you shrug and tilt your head upwards, gazing above like some wished answer or instruction from the angels or whoever listens, "Why do you ask?"

"Because," His response is delayed, though his answer is sincere and thoughtful like he has been thinking over his words since a time he can't remember until his fingertips touch your elbow fleetingly, "I can't stop thinking about it."

There is a moment, a single fragment, in which you meet his eyes, his touch is known and everything seems to pause like a finished painting, a still image in a history book: his hand, his body and his eyes – the colour of autumn, earth, hints of something else so unique to him.

"Charles, what are you saying?" You laugh softly, looking away momentarily and toying with the knitted wool of your soft cardigan with the kind of feigned indifference that comes with disguising truth, "I didn't think you were a romantic, who has caught your eye?"

For a moment, you wish he would say someone's name, a blessed girl that you have never heard of, so that you can deny your own feelings and settle on the painful reality that you are merely friends.

Instead, his gaze flickers, almost nervously, and a palm cradles the curve of your cheek and jaw with the hesitance of a man of conflicting considerations even when he tries to smile a little. "Please, forgive me."

There is not an instance given to allow any insistence or inquiry as Charles presses a kiss upon your mouth: it is not rushed and there is a desperation there that is not greedy, tasting the remnants of your lipstick and rosé, slow and methodical – longer when you indulge and welcome the feeling.

He does not draw away completely when the feeling ends, his forehead lightly pressed to yours and his touch a little firmer where his fingers curl into your hair, swallowing slowly as his eyes close for a moment until he dares meet your stare once more.

"(Y/N)?"

You smile.

"Je t'aime." There is something in his face you have never seen before, something raw and open like an unfurling rose revealing itself, and you know that your heart is his and his alone.

Another kiss with your prompting, fingertips tracing the soft cotton of his shirt near the shoulder until you drape arms about his shoulders, breathing him in with hints of raspberry, amber and cinnamon, "I love you."

There is poetry in his eyes like those unsent love letters shoved under your pillow, and he delves in, holding you close and intimate until you're most certain, mutually, of the silent yearning you have felt for one another for years.

"C'mere," He mumbles, an arm drawing around the back of your thighs as he picks you up and holds you securely, and you cannot help but laugh in pure, unadulterated glee at his touch and affections, the bottle of rosé abandoned as the night settles in and you are whisked away.

He loves you.

He loves you.

[emmcfrxst]

the only heaven i’ll be sent to (is when i’m alone with you); arthur morgan x reader

word count: 2K

warnings: smut!, afab!reader, religious themes (kinda. a bitch loves blasphemy<3), oral (f!receiving), body worship (arthur worships the ground you walk on), multiple orgasms (again, f!receiving), expressively asking for consent because that’s sexy! also yes the title is a hozier reference! feedback is appreciated as always <333

!!!!!MINORS DNI!!!!!

The wind blows softly over the half-closed lapels of the tent you and Arthur had set up somewhere around Dewberry Creek, your old, rusted lantern creaking as it sways with the night breeze. The flickering light does not seem to bother your companion, however, as he flattens his tongue over the seam of your cunt, moaning greedily into you. Arthur’s eyes flutter closed in ecstasy as your fingers tangle in his hair, giving the honey brown strands a sharp tug when he delivers a particularly hard suck to your pulsing clit. Your legs close around his head instinctively, trapping him between your thighs, tense muscles flexing against the sides of his face. A soft, breathy apology leaves your swollen lips, the pressure disappearing soon after as your lover pins your body down with calloused hands, brushing off your apology with a chuckle against your skin. You do not have anything to apologize for; Arthur Morgan, a man who has escaped death more than once, would gladly let himself be smothered by your cunt if it came to it. What a way to go that would be, he thinks. The closest to heaven’s gates he will ever get. And although Arthur isn’t a man of religion, he is more than willing to spend every day and every night praying at the altar that is your body, worshipping every inch of you with his eyes, his lips, his hands. Every kiss, every mark you leave on his skin is a holy reminder of the love shared between the two of you; of the passionate nights where Arthur can forget all about his sins and fully allow himself to be bathed in the sacred light of your affections.

“There you go, beautiful. Come back to me.” he coos at you, pushing hair out of your teary eyes, a tender grin on his face. His thumb gently runs under your eyes, wiping away the moisture there as you come back to your senses, focusing on his form above you. The sight of him is like a punch to the gut; blue irises swallowed up by fully dilated pupils, lips swollen and shining with the evidence of your previous orgasms, his beard is soaked through and his breathing ragged. You let your eyes wander down to where his bulge is straining against his union suit, biting your lip. The effect is immediate— his cock twitches under your sultry gaze, a soft groan leaving your lover’s throat.

“Stop lookin’ at me like that.” Arthur warns lowly, calloused hands running over the bare skin of your thigh. You giggle, lifting yourself up to brush your lips against his, your hand running down his chest, feeling his muscles flex under your touch.

“Like what?” You ask innocently, the teasing curve of your smile betraying your oblivious act. Arthur glares at you playfully, hand coming down to squeeze your inner thigh.

“Like ye wanna do real bad things t’me.” He mutters, voice raspier than usual, dripping with arousal. Suppressing a grin, you sit up, letting your hands slide all the way down to cup him through his clothes, thumb gently pressing against the wet spot on his underwear. A sick sort of satisfaction fills you at Arthur’s reaction —pretty blue eyes fluttering closed, his lips part in a strangled moan, hips jutting forward, seeking more pressure. You allow him a few moments to bask in your touch, swirling your thumb around his tip through the fabric and cupping his balls, before taking your hands off of him, leaving him breathing heavily.

“Maybe I do wanna do real bad things to you, Mr Morgan.” you whisper against his neck, leaving open mouthed kisses over his pulse point. A satisfied little giggle leaves you when you hear him cursing under his breath, hips bucking upwards of their own volition. Your victory is short lived, however, as your lover pinches your clit in retaliation, making you cry out. Satisfied, a smug grin on his face, he finally bares himself to you, making your breath hitch. It isn’t the first time you see Arthur in all of his glory —far from it, really, but the sight of how strong, how capable he is always manages to steal the breath right from your lungs. Freckles adorn the robust planes of his shoulders, ascending all the way across the broadness of a back toned from years of hard work; a petite waist and powerful hips curve out into muscled thighs and chiseled calves— Arthur Morgan is truly a sight to behold. He flushes under your heated stare but says nothing —how wise of him, you think, for he knows by now that you would never allow him to look down on himself, not even under the pretense of a joke. You deserve better than the way you treat yourself, you’d told him a million times. And you’ll spend the rest of your life proving it— that he’s worth it, be it through words, comfort, actions or through the passionate entangling of your bodies and souls. Because sex is more than just that to the two of you; it is a way of communicating the love and the needs you have for one another— Arthur, so painstakingly touch starved before you came along, now revels in the physical familiarity you two share. From fleeting touches to lingering kisses, he simply cannot seem to get enough of you; he does not believe the longing in his heart could ever be quelled completely.

Trembling gasps leave the two of you as Arthur slides his cock between your folds, coating himself in your slick. Jolts of pleasure thrum through your body every time his tip bumps against your swollen clit, your soft cries of pleasure causing Arthur’s cock to twitch.

“Sweetheart, if you keep makin’ all them pretty noises it’s gonna be over b’fore it even starts.” His accent is thick and his voice is shaky, excited little tremors running through his body at your state of undoing —all because of him. He’s made a real mess out of the two of you; drenched, sweaty and needy — thick strips of your wetness clinging to Arthur’s lower abdomen, precum pearling over the tip of his cock and gliding down his length; yes, your lover is more than willing to drown himself in your shared desire, to indulge in the carnality of your bound. Wrapping a hand around himself, he groans behind clenched teeth, sensitive to the touch, fingers quickly getting wet from how thoroughly turned on he is. He, however, remains unashamed, having accepted long ago that he will never be in control when it comes to you —he has never felt so connected with another human being, be it physically, psychologically, mentally or emotionally and he no longer bothers trying to hide the way you make him feel.

Understood. Respected. Appreciated. Loved. Alive. He’d never felt so many emotions prior to meeting you. Had never felt so alive; had never wanted to keep going as much as he has since you walked into his life. You make it worth it.

Letting his lips brush along your brow line, Arthur curls the fingers of his free hand around one of your thighs, spreading you open for him.

“Ye still good? D’ye want me to stop?” He asks, blue eyes roaming over your bare form with tenderness, trying to assess the situation. Even with you soft, pliant and soaked underneath him, Arthur Morgan would never dare to make assumptions about your desires, would never be so single-minded as to claim you without expressed consent from your part. He needs to know you want this as much as he does, wants this to be good for you— he thrives on your pleasure and your pleasure alone; can only feel good if you are. It is one of the many reasons why you love him so deeply, but in your lusting daze, you find yourself too strung up to fully appreciate it.

“Arthur Morgan, if you stop now m’gonna kick your sorry ass—oh!” Your voice breaks off into a pitiful little whimper when his cock teases your entrance, a low, rumbling laugh leaving him.

“As you wish, m’lady.” He allows himself to be playful for a few moments longer, basking in the frustrated little furrow of your brows and your pouting lips before pushing inside in one smooth glide, aided by your shared arousal. Arthur curses under his breath as your cunt flutters around him, trying to adjust to his girth. The blunt ends of your nails leave crescent marks onto the broadness of his shoulders and Arthur clenches his jaw, doing his best to stay still and allow you a moment of reprieve from the sensations that overtake your body. Busying himself with leaving marks onto your skin, he soothes the spots where his teeth have dug into, lips moving feom your neck to your chest to take a nipple into his mouth. The loud, broken mewl you let out at the action makes him shiver, goosebumps spreading all over his skin at the sound, but he continues to stay still, waiting for you to give him the permission to go on. It’s only when your legs wrap around his waist that he does finally let himself move, pulling himself almost all the way out before sliding back in with a quick snap of his hips. Another cry leaves your lips at the action, although this time sounding strangled, your cunt clenching around your lover’s cock at the delicious friction he provides you with. Your foot presses into the meat of his ass, encouraging him to go faster, deeper— a silent demand he is quick to indulge in. A series of loud, wet noises begin resounding around the two of you, only motivating Arthur on to thrust harder; your back arching up into him when he starts battering that one spot inside of you, rough fingers coming down to rub circles onto your clit. The moans pour freely from your mouth and into his as he kisses you, tongues tangling together in a messy, sloppy fight for dominance. You’re vaguely aware of the spit trickling down your chin but are far too gone to care; the coil in your stomach getting tighter and tighter with every powerful snap of Arthur’s hips into yours. Already sensitive from your previous orgasms, you rake your nails down his back, trying to warn your lover of your impending climax. Alas, gargling moans are the only thing you can manage before you finally snap; vision going white, body going rigid under his, you repeat his name like a prayer as waves after waves of pleasure wash over you. Arthur isn’t far behind you, spurred on by your own release, a long, incredibly deep moan rumbling through his chest before he pulls out of you, sticky cum splattering across your stomach. Coming down from your high, you tuck a few strands of hair behind Arthur’s ears, fingers lingering on his face lovingly. He leans into your touch immediately, turning his head to press a gentle kiss into your palm, his body trembling with the aftermath of his own orgasm.

“Was…” He clears his throat, rolling off of you and pulling you along to rest on his chest. “Was that good f’r ya?” The gravelly tone of his voice cannot conceal the genuineness of his question, his fingers running down the length of your spine. It makes you smile— he makes you smile, your sweet cowboy. Shifting to look at him, you kiss him right over his heart, fondness warming your features.

“It was. It always is, with you. I love you.” And despite it not being the first time you utter those words— far from it, really— emotion still takes over Arthur’s heart and features, eyes shining with a sheen of tears.

Love. You love him.

No, Arthur Morgan may not be a religious man, and he remains unconvinced of God’s existence, but he does know one thing; you are his little piece of heaven on Earth.

[justagalwhowrites]

Halcyon - Ch. 19: Did You Mean That?

Joel confronts your shared past and potential future. A continuation of Halcyon from the prologue through Ch. 18, a modern no outbreak AU TLOU fic found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Angst. Modern No Outbreak AU, No use of Y/N, Slow burn, 18+ only, Minors DNI

Length: 6.6k

AO3 | Main Master List | Prologue | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Joel was frozen for longer than he was proud of, staring at the place you’d left him. 

I fucking heard you. 

What the fuck did that even mean? Heard what? 

He looked back toward Sarah’s room. He shouldn’t just leave her here by herself but he considered it all the same. He’d just… he’d go after you, make you talk to him like he should have done all those years ago. He wasn’t going to just let you disappear again, not this time. 

Instead, he called you, still standing on his front stoop, still considering chasing after you. It rang twice but then you sent him to voicemail. 

“Fuck!” 

His grip got tight on the phone but he resisted the urge to hurl the phone at the brick of his house. 

“Dad?” Sarah peered at him from around the doorway, her eyes somehow seeming especially wide. 

He sighed. 

“Yes, baby girl.” 

“You and Aunt Goldie were really in a fight, huh.” 

He sighed again, looking at his daughter even though it only made him feel worse. She loved you so much, you were the closest thing she’d ever had to a mother and Joel had fucked that up, too. 

“It’s… it’s complicated, baby girl,” he said. “C’mon, let’s go inside, it’s getting late, you should get ready for bed…” 

“But,” she huffed. “Dad, it’s Goldie. You can’t just let her leave, she’s family!” 

“I know,” he said, a hand on her back as he guided her back inside. “Not gonna just let her go, don’t worry. I just… need to figure out what to do first, OK?” 

“Promise you’re not going to just not talk again for years?” She asked, looking up at him. “Because - sorry, Dad - that was bullshit.” 

“Hey,” he said. “Language.” 

“Dad.” 

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, you’re right. It was bullshit.” 

He texted you while Sarah got ready for bed but you left him on read and he ground his teeth. He read his daughter a chapter from a book and resisted her begging to have him read another one before tucking her in, thankful that she still wanted him to do this at all. 

“Hey Dad?” She said as he went to leave. 

“Yes, baby girl?” 

“You’re going to talk to her, right?” 

He sighed. She sounded so hopeful. 

“I’ll fix it,” he said. “Promise. Love you.” 

“Love you too,” she said, sounding more relaxed. 

He closed the door behind him and went to the living room, pacing for a moment. 

I fucking heard you. 

He tried to remember the conversation with Ricky all those years ago, not something he’d really thought about in so long. 

Other things from that small window of time had dominated Joel’s memory. He remembered trying to find the words to talk to you, trying to come up with a plan for every possible outcome. If you wanted him, too, then he would figure out a way to be there for Tommy and his mom from afar and go with you. If, heaven forbid, you were pregnant, he would do everything to make sure you could still go to school and still be everything you were meant to be while he took care of the rest. If you wanted nothing to do with him… that had been the one scenario he hadn’t come up with a solution for. Of course, that had been the one he’d been left to reckon with. 

He remembered how he felt then, how desperate he’d been. But he couldn’t remember exactly what he’d said to fucking Ricky, something that had apparently stuck out in your mind so much that you’d moved across the country without a fucking word. He went over it again and again but couldn’t remember it, even though it felt like his fucking life depended on it. 

Eventually he tried to call you again but it only rang once before you sent him to voicemail. 

He listened to your outgoing message, bright and cheery, flexing his hand again and again as he waited, impatiently, for the beep. 

“Goldie,” he said when it finally let him record a message. “Not letting you walk out, I’m gonna keep calling. Just… pick up, baby. Please.” 

He hung up and immediately called again. Two rings, then voicemail. He called again. 

The fourth time, you finally answered, your voice sharp and harsh. 

“What!” You snapped. “What more do you want from me?” 

“I want to talk to you,” he said, straining to keep calm. “I don’t know what you mean, I don’t remember what the fuck you’re talking about, I…” 

You laughed once, derisively. 

“Of course you don’t,” you said. “You wouldn’t, would you? Because I was always just another girl to you, wasn’t I? Why would you remember…” 

“No,” he cut you off. “No, that’s not…” 

“I need some space, Joel,” you said. 

“I’m not losing you again, Goldie,” he said, harsher than he really meant to. “Please, let me just…” 

“If you don’t want to lose me then do what I’m asking you to do,” you said. “I need space, OK? I can’t just do this with you, I can’t… just don’t call me or text me or whatever, just give me some time.” 

“Goldie…” 

“I mean it, Joel,” you said. “I need space.” 

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Fine,” he said. “I…I can do that.” 

“Thank you,” you said. “I’ll talk to later.” 

“Will you?” He asked, probably rougher than he should have. 

“Eventually,” you said. “Yeah.” 

“Yeah,” he said, his voice thick. “Yeah, OK.” 

You hung up and he sighed, sinking onto the couch and cradling his head in his hands for a moment. 

He was on the edge of losing you again, he could feel it. He couldn’t let it happen, not this time. He started thinking again, just like he had all those years ago, trying to think up contingency plans and ways to work through this without you leaving but, really, that’s what it always came back to. He’d do anything - he’d never touch you again, he’d tolerate your shitbag husband, he’d watch you live a life he was agonizingly separate from - if it just meant that you stayed. 

Joel got himself a drink, which quickly became two and then three, staring at the ceiling, wondering just how long he was supposed to stay away from you this time before he passed out on the couch. 

When he woke up the next day, time seemed to crawl. He couldn’t just ignore you.  You were in everything, it seemed. Sarah showed him the books you’d gotten her, excited about reading them. He reviewed his business plan again and again, looking at your notes in the margins. He put on a Longhorns t-shirt and remembered you sitting at his kitchen table, building out your syllabus for the year. 

Even Tommy noticed a difference when he was at work on Tuesday, seemingly short tempered and impatient. 

“You gonna tell me who pissed in your Cheerios or you gonna leave that a mystery?” Tommy asked as they leaned against his truck during a coffee break. 

“What do you mean?” Joel frowned, staring down at the paper cup and thinking about how you took your coffee and wondering what was he supposed to do with that knowledge if you were just gone now.

“I mean you’ve been biting people’s heads off all week,” Tommy said. “I mean, you’re always an asshole but you’ve been in rare form man.” 

“Tommy…” 

“Don’t feed me some bullshit, either,” he interrupted him. “Know you too well for that.” 

Joel looked at Tommy for a moment before he sighed and it all came spilling out of him - prom night, what had been happening between the two of you the last few months, the moment in his kitchen, what you’d yelled at him over the weekend, all of it. 

“Jesus,” Tommy said when he was done, just blinking at him, dumbfounded. “I… fuck, man. I always thought there was something between you two but… holy shit.” 

“I don’t know what the fuck it is she’s talking about,” Joel said. “I talked with Ricky back then but fuck if I can remember what it was about, that was more than a decade ago, what the fuck am I supposed to do?” 

“I mean… do you know how she feels?” Tommy asked, taking a sip of coffee.

“Yeah,” Joel scoffed. “Yeah, I think she’s made that perfectly fuckin’ clear.” 

“Has she?” Tommy said. “Because - and maybe you just didn’t mention it - but I don’t think you actually talked about it. Ever. Not once.” 

Joel frowned, looking at the ground, going over everything in his mind. 

That couldn’t be right, could it? 

It sure seemed like you’d talked about it. Maybe not explicitly, but everything you’d said pointed to you seeing him as a friend. You said you wanted to be with someone you could love and that wasn’t him. The first time he’d slept with you again, you asked him not to call you baby and he’d all but begged you to let him. He’d had to fucking comfort you the morning after the concert, tell you that it didn’t mean anything so you didn’t panic because being with him freaked you out that much. You’d never said it, not in so many words, but you didn’t need to. 

“Maybe you should ask her,” Tommy said when Joel had been quiet for too long. 

“Tommy,” Joel groaned, rolling his eyes. “I can’t just…” 

“Can’t you?” Tommy said. “I mean… shit, man. You already blew it all up, what else you got to lose?” 

Tommy’s words were still in Joel’s mind when he left the job site that afternoon, going home to get cleaned up before going to the bank for his business loan appointment. 

What did he really have to lose? He could at least tell you how he felt, a thought that made his chest tight but brought a sense of relief, too. He’d been holding this in for so long now. It seemed like loving you had become a part of him, one that he was used to keeping to himself but one he didn’t want to hide anymore.

He’d told himself for years that he’d loved you quietly because it’s what you wanted. You weren’t interested, it was unfair to put his feelings on you. Even when you were a country away and not speaking with him, he found it strangely comforting to know that while it might be because he’d caved to his baser instincts and slept with you, it wasn’t because he’d pushed his feelings on you. He had regrets - he’d have given anything to take back that night if it meant you’d just talk to him again - but at least he knew how he felt about you hadn’t been the thing that had driven you away. 

Could it really be possible that not telling you had been the thing that sent you running from him? Had he really wasted years of his life not having you all because he’d been too afraid of actually fucking saying it? 

He put on his best clothes - wishing he had a suit for the first time in his life - and took a deep breath, looking at himself in the mirror. It felt like his whole life was riding on this, everything he could have sitting there, just out of reach. 

He’d never been worthy of you before. Back when he met you, he was barely passing his classes, going nowhere fast. Doomed to spend his life in his hometown, doing some job to get by while trying to keep his kid brother’s nose clean. He hadn’t gotten much better since, staying in the first job he could get, doing his best to raise the child he’d made by accident, trying to make something of himself as he could. It was nothing compared to you. But if he could manage this, actually do something real and tangible, maybe he’d feel worthwhile. 

Joel drummed his hands on the steering wheel as he drove, one of the Taylor Swift songs from the concert he’d gone to with you and Sarah coming on the radio and he remembered looking at you that night, remembered how much he wanted to kiss you in a way that actually meant something. He had to do this. He had to. 

His stomach was in knots as he sat in the bank waiting room, one foot bouncing as he tried not to crinkle his presentation and application in his hands. He wished you were here. Why was he doing this on his own? What made him think he was even fucking capable of this without you? 

After what felt like a small eternity, a woman named Audrey brought him back to her office and Joel took a deep breath before walking her through his business plan. 

His heart was pounding the entire time and there was something perverse about talking through a future that you weren’t somehow a part of. He walked Audrey through the financial plans, what the next five years would look like and there was the nagging thought at the back of his mind that he should have talked with you about all of this. How money would be tight for a while, how he’d be extra busy, how much he appreciated the way you’d supported him through all of this so far. He never could have done this without you pushing him, encouraging him, helping him navigate the business world. It felt like your success, too, when Audrey set his presentation down on her desk, nodding. 

“Well, Joel,” she said, looking at him with a smile. “I think we have everything we need. Congratulations, you’re getting your loan!” 

Joel just laughed for a second, looking next to him quickly before remembering that you weren’t by his side. 

“Thank you,” he said. “This is… thank you very much.” 

“Looking forward to doing business with you,” she smiled. “Give me just a minute and I’ll be back with some papers so we can get things going.” 

Joel took his phone out and stared at his text message conversation with you, the last thing he sent still “I’m sorry.” He wanted to tell you that he’d done it. He was a business owner, he was going to be something, he was becoming someone that Sarah was going to be proud of and it was all because you’d come back into his life. You were who he wanted to share this with and he couldn’t. 

Audrey gave him the paperwork and he went through it page by page, more than a little reminded of when he got his mortgage and felt like he was signing his life away but with more optimism about his future this time. 

About halfway through the paperwork, though, the pen started skipping. He tried wetting the tip of it, scratching on a corner of the paper but he couldn’t get it to write smoothly again. 

“Do you got another one of these?” Joel asked, holding the pen up. “Can’t get it to work…” 

“Oh yeah, sorry about that,” Audrey said, looking around her desk, including at an empty pen cup. “Let me just…” 

She opened a desk drawer and took a few things out, piling things on her desk - a purse, water bottle, a book. 

Joel cocked his head at the book, the spine of it familiar. So familiar that he couldn’t help but laugh. Of course you’d be here, too. 

“What?” She asked as she found a plain, white box and pulled out a handful of pens with the bank’s logo on the side. She dropped them into the pen cup and held one out to Joel. 

“Oh, nothin’,” he said, taking the pen and nodding at the novel. “Just… my friend, she wrote that book. Funny seeing someone read it.” 

“Wait, really?” She asked, her face lighting up as she held up your book. “You know who wrote this?” 

“Yeah,” Joel nodded. “Yeah, she’s my best friend, known her since we were 15. She’s… she’s amazing. She teaches now, over at UT.” 

Audrey set the book down, leaning over the desk with her arms folded in front of her like she was going to tell Joel some kind of secret. 

“OK can I ask something?” She asked. “Sorry, this is probably hugely unprofessional but I am obsessed with this book, I can’t put it down and my book club is going crazy. Is any of it true? The falling in love and things ending like that? It seems like it has to be at least somewhat based on her life, I don’t see how someone could write this without knowing it, you know?” 

“Oh, uh,” Joel cupped the back of his neck awkwardly. “I actually… haven’t read it?” 

“Oh,” she said, sitting back a little, looking let down. 

“Sorry,” Joel said. “I’ve tried and I know it’ll be amazing but it’s just too weird for me…” 

“No, I’m sorry,” she laughed a little. “I overstepped, I shouldn’t have assumed…” 

“I should read it,” Joel said quickly. “I got it at home, maybe I’ll give it another go now.” 

“You should,” Audrey said. “It’s really, really good.” 

The new pen worked and Joel finished the paperwork, staring at his signature on the last page a  little too long. He handed the pen and papers back to Audrey. 

“You can keep the pen,” she smiled, taking the pages. “Let me make copies of these for your records but otherwise, congratulations, owner of Miller Brothers Construction and Contracting!” 

Joel had a bubble of pride in his chest as he drove home, one that seemed too big to keep contained and, against his better judgement, he called you. 

He wasn’t entirely sure what he expected, if he thought you were going to send him to voicemail, if you were going to answer and let him actually say something to you or what. 

What he didn’t expect was Gale. 

“Hello?” 

Joel just blinked for a second, recognizing the man’s pompous voice even from just the one word. 

“Is this Joel?” Gale - fucking BRAD - said. He took his silence as a yes and laughed. “Was wondering if I’d hear from you. Don’t worry, she’s with me, back where she belongs. Thanks for looking after her while I was gone, though. Appreciate it.” 

“Lemme talk to her,” Joel said through clenched teeth. 

“I don’t see why that’s necessary,” he said. “Seems like she doesn’t want much to do with you these days. Think you blew it. Thanks for that, too, by the way.” 

“We’re just…” 

“You’re just nothing,” Gale cut him off. “You were nothing but a childish distraction for her. She went running back here when things got hard - which I take my part of the blame for - and she needed a project to keep herself busy but she doesn’t need you anymore. So go back to the little life you’re meant for and leave us be. She was always too much for you and this place, anyway.” 

“No,” Joel said sharply. “No, you put her on the phone, put her on the phone right now!” 

“Can’t do that,” Gale said. “But I’ll tell her you called. Take care.” 

The line went dead and Joel threw his phone against the dash so hard the screen cracked. 

“Fuck!” He yelled, smacking his hands against the steering wheel. He wasn’t going to lose you, not again, not like this. 

He ignored Gale. Instead, he drove to your house, pounding sharply on the door, panting for breath as he did but you never answered. 

So he went to Anna’s next. He only needed to knock for a minute before she opened the door, Ellie’s beaming, chubby face happy in her arms. 

“Hey Joel,” Anna smiled at him. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes! Here to see this one?” 

Ellie squirmed in Anna’s arms, cooing and reaching for Joel and he laughed once, he couldn’t help it, before holding his arms out for her. Anna handed him her daughter and Ellie giggled, immediately reaching to tangle her tiny fingers in his curls. He smiled at her for a moment, marveling at the little girl who’d brought you and him together in the way it felt like you were always meant to be.

“Is she here?” Joel asked, bouncing a little with Ellie, watching her smile, her little body a grounding force that eased his racing heart. 

“Oh,” Anna frowned, her eyebrows knitting together. “No, sorry, she’s not here too often anymore, just a few times a week… She moved back home, I thought you knew that?” 

“No, I did,” Joel said quickly, looking to Anna and offering a finger to Ellie for her to gum at. “She just… wasn’t there, tried callin’ her but…” 

“Oh,” Anna pulled her phone out, looking at the time. “She might still be at the school, I can call her for you…” 

“No,” Joel said quickly, not wanting to get your sister involved in the mess of whatever the fuck was going on between the two of you. “Don’t… Don’t worry about it, sure I’ll talk to her eventually.” 

“OK,” Anna said, still frowning. “Look… It’s not my business but… Is there something going on with you two?” 

Joel just looked at Anna for a moment, wondering if he should tell her, too, because fuck it, why not just let the whole world know how much he’d fucked up with you.  

But she beat him to it, going from a frown to an absolutely glowing smile in no time at all. 

“Oh my God.” 

“What?” He asked, adjusting his hold on Ellie. 

“You love her!” She sounded practically giddy. “Oh my GOD I knew it! You LOVE her! Have you told her? Does she know? Oh my GOD, JOEL!” 

“I… I haven’t exactly said it,” Joel said, his cheeks getting hot. “I don’t want to make it her problem, I don’t want to get in the way of her being happy, I just… I want to be there for it.”

Anna just looked at him for a moment before shaking her head a little. 

“Is… Is she happy with him?” Joel asked, watching your sister closely. “Is he what she wants? I didn’t know her when they were really together, I just… it seems like he holds her back and that he’s bad for her and…” 

“Joel, did you read her book?” Anna cut him off. 

He frowned. 

“What? What does that…” 

“You wanted to know if he’s what she wants,” Anna said. “She’s never going to actually say it, you know that. At least not to you or to me, she’s always going to try to seem like she’s OK and handle it herself until she can’t and even then she’s not going to actually fucking say it, Joel, but she will write it. She always writes it. Read the book, Joel.” 

He gave Ellie back to Anna and went home, trying to focus as he made Sarah dinner and helped her with her homework. 

Read the book. Just read the fucking book. Was that all it would take? Could he even do that? If fucking Brad really was what you wanted, could he really sit and read hundreds of pages about how much better your life had been when he wasn’t in it? 

He’d never been able to manage it and it wasn’t because he didn’t want to know you through your words and it wasn’t because he didn’t like your writing. It was because he didn’t know if he could stomach reading something you wrote while you were in love with someone else. 

But… Anna was right. He knew that. If he wanted to know the truth of any of it, he’d have to read it. So, after he tucked Sarah into bed, he sat on the floor, staring at the box in his closet that held the two copies of your book like it was daring him to actually confront his feelings for a change. Because that had always worked out so well for him in the past, not like every fucking time he’d resolved to actually talk to you he hadn’t found you loving someone else. 

“Fuck it,” he muttered, opening the box and pulling out the books. This time, though, he picked the signed copy, the one he’d never tried to read before. There was something different about holding this copy, knowing that you had once, too. He ran his hands over the cover and the spine reverently for a moment before he leaned his back against the wall of the closet and opened the book. 

Joel had to force himself to read past the first few paragraphs, his stomach in knots the entire time, but, after a while, he fell into it - to the point that he almost forgot that he was reading your book. 

He’d known, from what little he’d managed to read in the past, that the book started in Austin, he just hadn’t expected the story to linger there.

But it did, the narrative following a girl named Cressida. She started out as a quiet, introspective high schooler who had become unlikely friends with a football player named Eli, a friendship that felt so like his with yours. They knew each other, understood each other, their worlds seem to revolve around each other. It seemed natural that it led to them sleeping together. But instead of the immediate implosion that had ended your relationship in real life, theirs devolved over time. Cressida came back to him again and again, the two of them winding up loosely connected every time a relationship of Eli’s fizzled out, her clinging to a heart wrenching longing that hurt to read, one that her friend seemed shockingly oblivious to.

Eventually, though, things came crashing down. This was different too, though, because it ended not with her vanishing but him, a car accident claiming Eli’s life when Cressida had finally resolved to tell him how she felt. They buried him in a sunny corner of the graveyard just before graduation and Cressida, it seemed, never really moved past it.

The other three-quarters of the book followed her as she tried – desperately, devastatingly – to live again, to get over the love she’d never really had to begin with, to find some place to root herself outside of that sun-drenched grave in her hometown.

She never really managed it, the ending almost painfully unsatisfying but feeling true. She’d become something – Cressida delving into the business world instead of the creative one as you had – and she found success away from home but her mind kept going back to that place and that person. She’d had relationships but, when her last boyfriend had proposed, she couldn’t bring herself to say yes. It had felt like a lie, to tell someone she would love him above all others when she’d never love him more than the memory of the boy who had been gone for years. He’d died at the worst time, the part of her life that would always be on a pedestal no matter what she did. Nothing and no one would ever compare and she was stuck, still going back to him again and again even though he was cold in the ground.

The last chapter closed with her bringing home a man who reminded her of her friend, something charming about him that took her back to that brighter place for a while. But when he fell asleep next to her, she had to confront that hollow feeling in her chest. In the last moment of the story, she bought a plane ticket to go back to that sunny grave site, something about the calm that fell over her when she decided to go back making it seem like that grave was her resting place, too.

Joel just stared at the book when he read the final words, the last pages flopping over, revealing your picture on the inside flap of the dust jacket. That knowing smile and piercing gaze gutted him then, no longer the taunt and temptation of knowledge they had once been.

Was Anna right, was this the truth of it? Did you write out your real feelings? Had he really gotten everything this fucking wrong? Had he really spent years wishing things with you were different when they’d been different all along?

He got out his phone and ignored the fact that it was 4:30 in the morning and called you. You didn’t answer. It didn’t even go to voicemail, the phone ringing once before he got some message saying the number was unavailable.

“Fuck,” he sighed, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the wall. He wasn’t positive but, based on his experience trying to track down Sarah’s mom years ago, that meant you’d blocked his number. It’d be just his fucking luck that he thought - hoped? - that, maybe, you felt the way he did at the same time he lost you for good.

He sat there with his eyes closed in the glow of his closet light, next to the box made up of the history of you, trying to pick through his memory from all those years ago, searching for some sort of guarantee that the book was based on what happened between the two of you back then.  

At some point, when he was swallowed by his memory of you, he fell asleep. Maybe it was the book, maybe it was the fact that he’d been sifting through ancient history when exhaustion finally caught up with him, maybe it was your words still ringing in his ears, but he remembered then. 

In his dream, he was back under the bleachers with Ricky, pacing to work out his nerves. He talked to his friend - the one who was more experienced, the one who wasn’t reckless, the one who would understand exactly why he was so afraid of what he might have just done to you. 

But, most importantly, he remembered exactly how that conversation had ended. 

It’s Goldie. I wish it were anyone else. It’d be better if it were anyone else.

“Dad!” 

Joel jerked awake, the book still open in his hands, your signature there for him to see. 

I fucking heard you. 

Sarah pounded on his bedroom door again. 

“Dad, come on!” She yelled. “I’m gonna be late!” 

“Shit,” he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and checked the time before calling to his daughter. “Two minutes, baby girl!” 

He got up as quickly as he could, his legs tingling from his awkward sleeping position on the floor of the fucking closet. 

Joel got changed quickly, barely paying attention to what he was putting on.

He’d had the answers sitting there for years, he’d just been too afraid to look it in the face but he had and now he knew. He knew how you felt - how you must have felt, why else would his misunderstood words have driven you away? - he knew how much time he’d already fucking wasted by being a coward, he knew it all now. 

He just didn’t know what the fuck to do about it. 

Joel got Sarah out the door quickly, barely paying attention on his drive to the school. He couldn’t just give up. He already refused to lose you, not again, but now it would be impossible. You were so close, everything he’d ever wanted there in front of him but just out of reach. Even if you’d moved on now, even if you were happier with fucking Brad, he had to tell you. He owed both of you that much. 

“Bye Dad!” Sarah poked her head between the two front seats and gave him a peck on the cheek. 

“What was that for?” He frowned, turning to look at her. 

She just shrugged and smiled. 

“Just seemed like you needed it,” she said. “Love you!” 

“Love you too!” He called after her as she hopped down from the truck and slammed the door behind her with a little too much force, waving behind her as she ran to the building. 

“Alright,” he took a deep breath, looking at the clock on his dashboard. Just after 8 a.m. He’d start at your place because he wasn’t sure what time you went to campus this semester. But he was going to talk to you. He was going to talk to you and he was going to tell you how he felt and he was going to do it today. “I’m comin’, Goldie.” 

You weren’t at your place when he got there. He tried not to think about if it was because you’d spent the night with fucking Brad, if you’d gone to his hotel and had never even been here. Instead, he went to campus. He wasn’t sure where you’d be teaching right now but he was pretty sure you wouldn’t be in your office. You always had morning classes with a break in the afternoon. 

“Excuse me,” he said to a random passing college student. “I’m lookin’ for… shit, probably creative writing? Or literature? What buildings are those?” 

“Oh, um,” the girl looked around quickly. “I’m a physics major but I know I had an English class in that building over there last semester? You could start there?” 

She pointed to a building in the distance and Joel kept his groan to himself. He forgot how fucking huge college campuses were. 

But he couldn’t just sit and wait. He needed to find you and he needed to do it now. 

“Thanks,” he said, giving her a wave and already starting to jog for the building. “Appreciate it!” 

But you didn’t have a class in that building. At least not at that time of day. He knew because he looked in all the lecture halls. You weren’t there. 

He tried two other buildings after asking for directions - no luck - before checking his watch. If your schedule was anything like it had been the semesters before, you’d be in your office soon. That, at least, he knew how to find. 

He jogged there, resisting the urge to run because that would probably make him look utterly insane, and threw his arm out to catch the elevator on its way up. 

“Floor 10, please,” he said to one of the college girls looking at him funny as he panted for breath. She did as he asked, though, and he marveled, for a moment, at just how fucking young college kids seemed to him now.

He closed his eyes and focused for a second, trying to figure out exactly what to say to you, but hearing your name pulled him out of his head. 

“I don’t think they’re still like… together together, though,” the girl who’d pushed the button said. “Like I know they were married but she said he was visiting. He’d live here if they were married, right? Besides, I really don’t think her husband would be asking for my number with his wife there, would he?” 

“I dunno,” the other girl shrugged. “He’s just… isn’t he old? Like old old, not hot old.” 

“I like them old,” the first girl giggled. “They know what they’re doing then.” 

The elevator chimed and the girls got off and Joel’s heart was beating so hard he could feel the blood in his body. You’d brought fucking Brad here and he’d hit on one of your fucking students - one who looked so young Joel never would have looked twice at her if he saw her on the street. Right in front of you, from the sounds of it. That’s who you’d chosen, that’s who you’d felt like you deserved because he hadn’t opened his fucking mouth years earlier. 

When the elevator made it to floor 10, he squeezed out of the doors, not willing to wait for them to open all the way, and ran to your office. 

“Excuse me,” the girl behind the front desk said as he went past her. “You can’t just…” 

“It’s fine,” he said, catching the door as someone came out of the hall where your office was. 

“No, wait!” She called after him but he ignored her. 

He ducked around other professors, dodging them and their questions until he was at your door. 

It was closed but he didn’t bother to knock, throwing the door open to find you there, standing in front of your desk in the arms of your fucking husband as he kissed you. 

Joel moved so fast that neither you nor Gale had noticed he was there but he couldn’t just stand there and watch that fucking guy kiss you, not like that. 

Without really thinking about it, he ripped him away from you, just catching a glimpse of the shock on your face as he punched Gale in the head, sending him sprawling into your desk. 

“Joel!” You yelled before grabbing his arm and pulling him back before he could hit your goddamn husband again. “What the fuck are you doing!” 

“Sorry, baby,” he said, shaking the feel of the punch out of his hand, his knuckles raw. “I couldn’t just watch that fucking guy touch you like that.” 

“Well, it’s really not your business how he touches me!” You snapped, shoving him back. “You don’t get to just come in here and hit people because you’re not getting your way anymore!” 

“That ain’t what this is,” he said, taking you by the shoulders, something grounding in the fact that could feel you again. “Baby, I read your book…” 

“Congratulations!” You snapped. “What, do you want a cookie because you finally got around to supporting me?” 

“No,” he shook his head. “Did you mean that? What you wrote, was that…” 

“What does it matter!” You asked, your eyes searching his face. “Why do you care! It’s ancient history, it doesn’t…” 

“It does matter!” He held you tight, wanting to kiss you more than he ever had before. “It matters because I love you, I love you so much, I’ve loved you since we were fucking kids, I love you so much that I think it might kill me if you don’t let me just say that to you at least this once and if you feel that way, too…” 

“You need to leave,” Gale - who Joel had all but forgotten about - said, trying to position himself between you and Joel. “And take your hands off my wife.” 

“Oh I haven’t even fuckin’ started with you,” Joel said, rounding on him. “You’re a fucking predator, chasing after her fuckin’ students while you’re here with her? Doing with them what you did with her, that it? Lucky I don’t beat the shit out of you…” 

“Joel, I…” you began, but you didn’t get the chance to finish, Gale pulling you back from Joel and going to hit him. 

Joel didn’t give him the chance, shoving him away from you before punching him again. Gale fell, landing on your desk again with a sharp crack. 

“Joel!” You yelled. 

He didn’t get a chance to respond. Instead, he got pulled back, security guards dragging him into the hall and away from you before he knew if he had a shot at really having you for the first time in his life.

Next Chapter

A/N: FUCK YOU GALE!

Sorry, I've been picturing that moment since I first thought up the fic. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did!

Taglist: @kaseyconnour

[ataraxiaspainting]

King of Infinity.

Yan (Villain) Gojo x F Reader. 

Synopsis: You don’t get the starring role. You’re partially happy about it; because you don’t have to break a leg.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships/kidnapping(?), descriptions of genocide, descriptions of corpses, manipulation, Stockholm Syndrome(ish), and degrading language against the reader.

Word Count: 1.1k.

can technically be considered a roleswap AU but up to you as geto isn’t talked about rcfncodnorjr…

*~*~*~*

“I never considered you someone who would be fond of apartments.” Satoru pushes his sunglasses up with his pointer finger as he wraps an arm around your trembling shoulders.

The same hand that holds you so very tenderly in the eyes of his followers is the same hand that turns on the lighter to envelop his cigarette in a small flame – a flame you had learned long ago to not attempt to put out, lest you would like it seared into your palm like the tattoo he forced on your neck.

‘The Star.’

“It’s a good strategy though,” Those words are the closest thing to a praise you have heard in months. They are akin to Satan reflecting on his reign of hell and comparing, considering whether or not it would be better to serve in heaven. But then he would laugh as his servants danced, not wanting any angel or God to take such bliss away from him.

Satoru had you dressed in what he considered to be the highest quality fabrics monkeys can make, while he had attire made from the sorcerers he had wrapped around his finger. Yours were not suitable for Tokyo’s snowstorms and his clothing covered up more skin than he would ever let you cover – because you aren’t him, the one he loves the most more than anything else in this beautiful world; Gojo Satoru, the special grade sorcerer that killed more than thirty thousand people in a single hour outside Jujutsu High and was never punished after that fateful evening.

You still remember that night. It is etched into your memory like a child had drawn it on a white wall. Despite everything, you will not ever be able to erase it. You will grow old and never dream of anything but him, the center of your now small universe, the only flower that is allowed to bloom under the eternal blood moon. Everything else will rot – even the earth’s shadow will not remain once Satoru’s dreams are realized. His will is all that matters now, he is the priest of the god of destruction and you are so very far below him. 

A monkey. That is where you will stay and continue to be after you rot and he steps on the soil placed on top of you so you cannot breathe or scream. Only gratitude can fall from your disgusting lips because Gojo Satoru’s only fuel is the groveling of every living creature that makes up the infinite number of galaxies. He will gladly replace your tongue with the worms who decompose you if you have more to say than that. After a while, he’ll comfort you and say that it doesn’t get too bad underneath because that is your one true purpose in life; to not speak and only do.

“You didn’t cry too much this time,” The ends of Satoru’s mouth move upwards, having the freedom to do as they please because his lips aren’t sewn shut. Yours on the other hand can hardly get something that tastes pleasant. “That’s an improvement, wouldn’t you say? I’ll be sure to get you some mochi after this mission, pet.”

You’re not sure if he is talking about the car ride here or the corpses strewn across the floor – occupants of this apartment and a poor security guard that just so happened to be in the general vicinity and heard flesh being torn apart like paper.

There are glimmers coming from the knife block in the kitchen area, the sunlight hitting them just right to make them glow a silvery hue. But the idea dies as soon as you feel its warmth – almost nonexistent because of the burning cold – and slink back into the shadows where you belong, where you are meant to be.

“I never took you to be one for planning. Usually, it is Nanami who does that.” 

A puff of smoke comes out, but you can still see his glowing eyes. You can always see them no matter what you do, even if you close your own, so you decide to imagine them as a different color; something less bright and more normal, something like black or brown. Sometimes you get away with it, and other times he somehow knows.

“I don’t mind it though.”

From across the street, you see the clocktower that stands at the gate of the nearest train station… or bus stop. You don’t care enough to remember which it was. Most likely the former though – you highly doubt any mere bus station would have a clock that large when said buses only hold less than fifty people.

“Will you miss me?” The tone in his voice is teasing, you think because his lighter isn’t on his lap or in his hand – it is on the little coffee table beside the sofa you two are sitting on. But you must still behave according to Satoru’s design because the placement of the flames can easily change. The comfort is cold, but it is better than a scorching hot truth.

“Yes.” 

The real reason you had chosen an apartment and not some corporate office that was under the thumb of the Star Religious Group was because you wanted to be somewhere that was halfway normal. It’s selfish, you know that. But the floors are aged and not polished daily, the air smells different and the heating is at its lowest setting because the owners wanted to save a bit of money. It was oh so very selfish of you. But when you are forced to be the companion of Gojo Satoru, someone who is every definition of the word, you have to combat it in a way that won’t leave your skin black and blue.

“It’s almost eleven,” Satoru groans, stretching his arms up to the ceiling. Some blood managed to get up there along with a bit of a leather shoe, probably the husband’s. You two ignore it for different reasons that are just as strong as the other. “Be good.”

When he reaches towards the table, you think he is reaching for his lighter. But with a slight detour of his hand, he opens his wallet instead. A few thousand yen is handed to you when your eyes are closed, your mind prepared for another fight or flight response. All you get is another poke of your cheek.

“You know where the market is, don’t you? The one I took you after our date last week.” 

You nod. “Would you like mochi, master?”

“No,” Satoru chuckles. “Get me something you like.”

[j0eyj0rdis0n]

Wait hear me out , pls do sm about EJ , like him being a soft dom and some overstimulation with CNC pussy eating and creampie (ik cnc is often written as rough but could you make it more soft , like boyfriend EJ Just not caring about your struggling, instead he just softly pets you and shush's you while he takes advantage of you, lovingly ofc)

ABSOLUTELY!! I always love your requests btw 🖤

SOFT DOM EYELESS JACK

Fandom: Creepypasta

Plot: Jack takes you when he wants, but that doesn’t mean he’s mean about it

Warnings: noncon/dubcon (i honestly can’t really tell so I leave it to you), oral briefly, unprotected sex, creampie

It had been a busy day running around on missions, the last thing you wanted was to get down and dirty with Jack… But when he has his mind made, well… He knows what he wants. And tonight he wanted you. He wasn’t big with words and you knew that. But when you tried to reason him off of you, he wasn’t having it at all.

He worked your pants off, gently pushing you back on his heavily blanketed bed. The only sounds that came from him were soft purrs as he took off your underwear, moving his mask to the side so he could get a taste.

“Jack off! I don’t want this right now…” You groaned, half from annoyance and half from pleasure as his tongue delved its way into you.

Your words still didn’t change his mind and you could see this wasn’t going to go your way. He gently ran his hands down your thighs leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. His warm tongue worked magic on your folds, getting you to whine and push him away just like he liked. He loved knowing you were too weak to get away from him even if you put effort behind it. He loved how small your hands were against his shoulders as you push harder, not making him budge one single inch from your sweet core.

He looked up at you with an evil grin, putting his razor teeth on full display for you. “Oh darling, you can’t get away from me. It’s useless trying. Now let me take care of you.” He left gentle kisses up your thighs, giving small nips here and there to mix a little pleasure with pain.

You don’t stop your futile fight as he pulls off his pants, letting his erect cock spring free. “See dear? This will stretch you out just perfectly! Remember last time?” He mumbled against your thigh before standing up so you could see him in his full glory.

Oh you remembered last time… All 8 inches of it… And the worry was evident on your face. You watched as Jacks cock twitched at your expression.

“Don’t be worried darling, I’ll take good care of you~”

He ran the tip of his throbbing dick against your slit, making sure to collect as much of your slick as he possibly could. After all, he doesn’t want to hurt you too bad. Your nervous whimpers brought out the monster in him that he tried so hard to keep at bay. He would ruin you if you kept up those sweet noises. You’re lucky he didn’t tear you apart right now!

“J-Jack please… I don’t wanna hurt…”

He only shushed you with a smile, slowly entering you with a hiss. You were the closest to heaven he’d ever get to and he was feeling it now. He prayed you wouldn’t bleed, oh god would that drive him absolutely feral. Your scent of arousal was already so strong it made his head dizzy, he didn’t know if he could take the scent of your sweet blood. The mix might actually make him sick.

He watched as small tears rolled down your plump cheeks. How delicious. He starts off slow, nice and soft for you. He does care after all. But as your slick begins to build up, your whines grow louder, your hole squeezes his cock in just the right way, he can’t hold himself back. He hits the spots you didn’t even know could be reached. It made your toes curl as you desperately clung to him, panting over and over again how it’s “too much” or you “couldn’t take it”. He didn’t take a single word you said seriously. In one ear and out the other. You weren’t done until he said so.

Jack let out a low growl as he saw the bulge reappear in your core with each loving thrust.

“I want to eat you up so bad. All to myself. All for me.” He hissed desperately, feeling his orgasm building along with yours. He could always tell by the look in your pretty eyes that your orgasm was dangerously close. The pleading look they gave him, the salty tears that he loved to lick up. You were close, oh so close.

With a few circles around your clit with his precise fingers and a couple deep thrusts you came undone. Your pretty pants filling the room along with the sloppy wet sounds that continued as Jack chased after his orgasm. He loved the feeling of filling you up, knowing that you, his mate, could possibly have his babies. His hot seed filled you up with one final thrust. The demon kissed your neck greedily, pulling out slowly, watching the way your hole throbbed around nothing.

“My darling did so well~” he cooed, cleaning you up slowly but surely, making sure to get every drop that could get your pretty self all sticky. “I’m so proud of you love.” He laid next to you, stroking your hair and kissing your tears away, making sure to lick his lips to taste how sweet you are.

[piratefishmama]

Fake it till you make it | Part 11

“Be careful, Eddie” were Wayne’s words as he hugged his nephew goodbye, knowing he wouldn’t see him for a whole week and honestly still being a little worried about it “if you think even for one minute that something’s off, just… just get out of there, alright?”

“I know, I know, I’ll bolt through the woods and hitchhike my way home, I know the way, Wayne, I got this.” He could read a compass, he’d be able to get a map from any gas station and head home, he was resourceful, an adult, he could handle himself.

“Damn right you got this, son. But… be careful in other ways too, alright? Steve’s a charmin boy, but… remember this ain’t real.” Eddie had bitten his bottom lip at that one, brows furrowed in thought, those big brown eyes of his swirling in emotion, he never did hide his feelings well, it’d always be a little real for him. “Protect this” Wayne poked his chest with a gentle prod, right over Eddie’s heart “okay?”

“Mhm, I will…” he’d try to anyway. Steve really was… charming. An his kisses? God his kisses… but also... it really was the closest he’d ever been to what romance ought to be, what a relationship ought to be, he never thought he’d have that.

The world didn’t appear to be moving fast enough for him to truly experience romance as most people did.

He had to remember that he didn’t have that.

“Eddie! C’mon you’re in the back with me!” Steve called from the garage door, behind which the car was rumbling, their bags packed into the back, Steve’s parents already inside, ready to go. The longest Eddie had ever been away from Wayne since arriving in Hawkins, was three days during a weekend trip to Indy with the band to play at a slightly bigger venue than the Hideout as a one off.

A favour for his favourite gay bar when a live act they’d scheduled pulled out last minute. It hadn’t gotten them a lot of exposure, but it’d been a fun and enlightening night for the band.

“Best get on, son, I’ll see you in a week. Call when you can alright? Don’t care if you wake me up or about no damn time zones, just call, I’ll answer, an if I don’t, you know the plant’s number.” Tight lipped, strained smile, Eddie nodded quickly then turned on his heel and graced Steve with a brilliant smile, game on.

“I don’t wish to alarm anyone, but... did we miss a turning?” Eddie may have been unusually quiet for the first leg of their journey, nerves having hit him like a truck the second they pulled out of Loch Nora, but he was paying attention to his surroundings.

And those surroundings, were all too quickly, Fort Wayne International Airport.

“You don’t honestly expect rich people to drive the whole way to Canada do you?” Steve’s voice was amused and came from so very close to his ear that he actually jumped, quickly turning in his seat, back plastered against his side of the back seat, eyes wide as he took in and processed what Steve said. “Plus, what would you rather do, spend nearly two days in a car with my parents—”

“We’d make wonderful road trip companions, don’t be rude Steven” came his mother’s interruption

Steve ignored it in favour of continuing his point “—orr… around ten hours in one of those with a brief stop off in Chicago.” Steve leaned inward, uncaring of personal space as he pointed to a plane, ascending into the heavens from the runway.

“I don’t—” he didn’t know. He’d never been on a plane before. Trips like that, across country, they were the stuff of road trip legend, but Steve had a point…

Two whole days of a trip stuck in a car. Or just ten hours. Eddie’s eyes skipped to the window again, to the plane now disappearing beyond the overcast cloud cover.

“It’ll be okay, Eds, I’ll sit right next to you the whole time, you’ll be okay.”

“What if we crash? What if it falls out of the sky? What’ll you do?”

“My best to keep you safe.” It was so earnest, coupled with Steve gently taking his hands and giving them a squeeze, eyes so full of raw honesty, of understanding, it hit Eddie directly in all his soft gooey bits. “I’ll hold your hand through the whole ten hours if you want.”

“Even during the stop in Chicago?”

“Hah, yeah baby, even during the stop in Chicago.”

“They’re a lot more openminded in Chicago too!” Lynda spoke up without turning her head, allowing Eddie to not get stuck on baby for too long “might get a few looks from people passing through the airport but nobody will say anything, and if they do, they deal with us.”

“If we had enough time during the stop we’d have taken a trip around the city, let you boys see some of the sights we’ve seen, but alas, our connection gives us an hour at most depending on everything being on time, and that’s just enough time to get us from one gate to the next.” John added as he pulled into the long stay parking lot. “Maybe some other time, some other family trip, eh Eddie?”

Eddie’s wide eyes turned to the front of the car, then back to Steve again, lips parted ever so slightly in surprise. Not surprise over the words used, but the feeling those words caused. Family trip. They were including him on future family trips.

Steve’s eyes quickly snapped from him to the front of the car and back again, then a warm smile blossomed on his lips. He lifted his hand and ever so carefully brushed a stray curl back behind Eddie’s ear, and asked so softly as his thumb lowered to brush along his jawline. “Right, Eddie?”

“Y-yeah… yeah I’d… I’d love that.” He turned his head fully toward the drivers seat, he’d never been too good at hiding his emotions, so maybe he was just a little choked up when he accepted the offer “I’d really love that.”

“Great!” The car came to a stop in one of the many parking bays, ignition off, driver side door opened “It’s settled then.” Settled. Eddie would privately mourn the knowledge that it’d never come to fruition, but… on the surface he could pretend he was excited for a future trip for the sake of the ruse. “Now boys if you could get the bigger bags out the trunk that’d be a big help! This back of mine isn’t as sturdy as it used to be.”

“You’re forty-six and go jogging almost every morning, don’t be stupid John.” Lynda whapped her husband with her handbag in gentle, semi-amused admonishment before getting out of the car.

Followed by her husband who, in a hushed tone replied with “don’t tell them that, Lynda, save us the work.” Leaving the two boys to breathe soft laughs between themselves before they too joined the older couple out in the parking lot.

“Steve...” Eddie hissed as they neared check-in.

“What?”

“I have weed” said through his teeth.

“What?” Steve paused.

“I have weed… I have weed in my suitcase.”

“You have what?!” Steve rounded on him, sentence ended with a pointed hiss

“I didn’t know we’d be flying to Canada, Steve, maybe you should tell people when you’re planning on launching them into the troposphere in a death tube!”

“Why would you bring weed on a holiday with my parents, Eddie?!”

“SHHHH, be quiet. I thought I might need it to chill out if I was freaking out at some point during the week like right now, I could really do with it right now.”

“Oh my god.”

“Steven? Is something wrong?” Lynda’s voice had them both snapping to attention, eyes wide, caught in the act. Luckily she had no idea what that ‘act’ was.

“Nope! No, uh, Eddie’s just gotta… use the bathroom real quick.”

“Well, there’s bathrooms in the business class lounge he can—"

“No! It’s uhm, it’s urgent, can’t wait, he’s uh…”

“Nerves, it’s uh, it’s nerves, I think imma hurl” she looked between them with a small frown on her face, assessing them both, it seemed like whatever she found wasn’t worth arguing about though, because she waved them off with a quick flick of her wrist.

“Alright fine, hurry up. Steven you know where the closest ones are go on now quickly before we’re late for check in, we’ll double check everything here.” John was already pausing to check through all their documents like a regular airport dad, it was the third time he’d done it since entering the airport.

“Alright let’s go, Eds, lets deal with your little problem.” At least he was soft-handed when he manhandled Eddie to the nearest bathroom, patchy suitcase with a squeaky wheel wobbling away behind them. Once inside, he checked each stall individually, before quickly turning on a wide eyed Eddie. “Where is it?” Eddie pointed down at the suitcase, and Steve snapped to action, lifting, and placing Eddie’s suitcase down on the slightly damp row of sinks. “Did you pack any liquid soaps?”

“Uhhh…” Eddie was too busy staring at the flex of Steve’s arms as he just. Lifted that whole very packed suitcase in one hoist. Fuck.

“Any shampoo? Conditioner?”

“I—I feel like my answer is going to make you mad so I’m just not going to answer.” Which on its own, was a pretty damning answer, and Steve’s expression told him as such “I don’t have a twelve step hair care routine like you do, Steve! I just… I have drug store shampoo and conditioner and that’s really only when it’s on a two for one sale! Usually I just—"

“If you say you water it down to make it last longer I’m going to throw the first thing I find in this suitcase at you.”

“Shutting up. I just thought I’d buy it there if I needed it, or just borrow yours, I know you brought some, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well then, I figured that… if I borrowed yours it’d make it seem like I just… wanted… to smell like you?”

“You just made that up.” Eddie just smiled, all teeth and dimples, scrunching his shoulders inwards in an unfairly cute display of mischief. “You’re a menace, Munson. Get your stuff out of there for me. Don’t ever put weed in checked luggage.”

“But—”

“TSA does random checks on checked luggage all the time, an while they’re not usually looking for weed, it’ll get launched and you might get fined. Whereas you can hide weed in just about anything in a carry on, just shows up as vague blurred shit on the x-ray scanners. Just be cool when you shove it through.” Steve was rummaging in the front of his own bag now, “be cool, and act natural.”

“You sound like you’ve done this before.”

“Mn once or twice, Tommy was a dick, but his cousin worked for the TSA for a few years, gave us all kinds’a neat tricks to get things through the airport.” Tommy’s cousin had gotten fired and a year inside for attempting to smuggle narcotics out of the confiscated items lock up, but that was neither here nor there. “Gimmie what you have.” Hand outstretched, Steve waited until Eddie placed the single baggie containing three roll ups and a few loose buds “Christ Eddie.”

“I knew I’d be nervous! Stop being mean to me!” Steve rolled his eyes before taking the three roll ups out of the baggie

“Your smokes, give em.” Plenty of room in the pack to slot the three roll ups, and as for the buds, Steve emptied out his travel sized bottle of hand lotion into the sink and stuffed the whole plastic bag into the little bottle, then screwed the lid on tight. Nobody would look twice at a rich kids hand lotion. “Now wet the ends of your hair.”

“What?”

“Your hair butthead! Wet it, we told my mother you’d be in here hurling your guts up, so… you got some in your hair, it’s a good extra to add to the ruse, now do it.”

“So my own boyfriend wouldn’t even hold my hair back if I threw up? Where’s the romance, where’s the commitment, where’s the care and—”

“Dude you have a lot of hair, I doubt I could get it all in my hand at once.” Although now that thought was in his head… could he? Could he get a good fistful and hold it there? Not important. “I’d drop bits.” A flimsy argument, he wouldn’t drop anything.

“Uh-huh, sure you would, big boy.” Eddie quickly dampened the tips of his hair, and ran a wet hand through his bangs quickly in a bid to fake flop sweat, theatrics over and done with. “Zipper-up, let’s get this show on the road, shall we?”

Part 13

[cheolhub]

HEAD — CHOI SOOBIN ࿐

summary. soobin goes down on you for the first time.

wc. 1.1k

warnings. [PLEASE READ] sub!soobin, oral (f. receiving), grinding into mattress lol, dommish?reader, heavy praise (use of good boy), c*m eating — MINORS DNI 18+

note. based off a req from a very long time ago… if u saw the first post, pretend u didn’t lol. i revamped a little :p likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

soobin is eternally grateful for you, really. you’re his first everything. first partner, first kiss, first fuck— his first love.

now he’s going down on you for the first time after hearing from his best friend that eating pussy is the closest thing to paradise. when he asked to so meekly, you were shocked to say the least. the mere thought of his mouth on your cunt had heat spreading from your cheeks to the tips of your ears and you instantly felt arousal pool in your panties.

“can i try eating you out?”

you could see in his face that he wanted it. almost like he’d die if he didn’t get the chance to bury his face in between your thighs. and with a face like that, who were you to deny him?

that’s why you’re on you elbows, legs spread open as you guide him in between your legs.

“okay, baby, just do what feels right. i’ll let you know what feels good.” you tell him sweetly to which he nods eagerly.

he dives in, tongue pressing flat against your wet core and, immediately, his eyebrows knit together. he let’s out a loud moan, the noise vibrating your entirety. he holds his tongue there for a few seconds, relishing your taste.

you shudder out his name, eyes fluttering and his body fills with a sudden… urgency… to hear you call out for him again. his tongue moves again, lapping up your honeyed arousal.

and he does it over and over and over, naturally becoming an ace at eating pussy.

“feels good, angel, just like that.” you moan when his mouth trails up to your clit. “suck right there—yeah, just like that, good boy.” you praise breathily, head falling back as his mouth suctions around your sensitive bud.

the praise causes a short circuit in soobin’s brain and, all of a sudden, it’s like he forgets about everything except how to make you feel good. he’s digging his face into you deeper, tongue flicking at your clit faster, hands squeezing your supple skin harder— he needs more. more of your words, more of your cunt, more of everything.

he’s so lost in your pussy, he doesn’t even realize he’s grinding his messy, aching, incredibly-hard cock into the mattress.

you’re shocked by the sudden onslaught of pleasure that it has you wondering if soobin lied about his pussy-eating experience. “slo-slow down, ‘bin.” you attempt to tell him, feeling your mind slowly escape you.

but your words fall on deaf ears because soobin can’t hear a thing. he’s in heaven, he fucking swears. the friction on his cock and his mouth sucking up your arousal are validation that he is, indeed, in paradise.

when a loud whine rips through his body and vibrates yours, you realize you actually can’t take it anymore, just about ready to combust on his face. “okay— fuck, baby— okay!”

your hand finds his head, tugging at the dark locks to pull him off of you. he resists at first, not wanting to part from what he believes is the best thing he’s ever had in his life, but eventually, he comes up for air.

he whines softly, still fucking himself into the bed.  “lemme keep going.” his fingernails bite into your skin and you’re honestly in awe.

no man has ever begged you to eat you out like this. no man has ever been this desperate for you. ever.

“just let me catch my breath, ‘binnie, was gonna cum too fast,” you pant, pushing his slightly hair back and basking in his beauty.

his swollen, wet lips turn pouty at your words, “w-want you to cum quick, please. p-please, i wanna taste it.”

your pulse accelerates, eyes nearly rolling at his desperation. all you can do is give him a wordless nod, hands coming back to fist at the bedsheets and letting him continue his assault on your cunt.

and that he does, quickly diving in and slurping you up, nose digging into your clit to further stimulate you. his tongue then drags from your drooling hole all the way back up to your swollen bud and that’s when you know this isn’t his first time.

there’s no way. there’s no way choi soobin, a virgin to oral, eats you out better than men with experience. there’s no way he has you this close to cumming this quick.

“fuck, ‘binnie, you’re so fucking good. eating me so fucking well. good boy, you’re so, so good f’me.”

at this point, he’s whining uncontrollably, making the entire experience all the more pleasurable. you swear he’s mumbling “‘m your good boy,” into your cunt, but your jumbled mind could easily be making it all up.

you can feel the bed rocking faster and faster and you can tell he’s close. you are, too, so you urge him.

“‘bin— ‘binnie, keep going. fuck, if you keep going, ‘m-m gonna cum.” you promise. “y-you want that, right? wanna be a good boy—my good boy— ‘n make me cum, yeah?”

you think he nods, but his change in pace confirms that he’s most definitely heard you. he’s erratically tonguing in and out of your cunt while his nose sloppily rubs at your clit. it gets you where you need to be— breathily moaning and tummy tightening while your brain fogs over— you’re going to cum.

and so is he.

it happens for you before you get a chance to warn him. you clench tightly while his tongue wanders and the knot in your stomach unravels. you cum hard. harder than you ever have during oral. white spots fill your vision and your back arches off the ruffled bed sheets while you cry out his name.

it triggers his own orgasm. he's filling up his boxers while he sobs into your pussy, continuing to eat you out through both of your orgasms.

the come down takes awhile for you. soobin insists on licking you clean which slightly overstimulates you, but you let him do so anyway because… well, he claims he needs it.

but when the two of you slowly— but surely— come down from your intense highs, you look at him bewildered.

“soobin, i thought you said you hadn’t done that before?”  you ask, still a bit breathless.

he furrows his eyebrows, “i haven’t! that was my first time.”

“liar.”

“i’m not lying!”

it’s true. you see the genuine look on his face and you can tell it really was his first time.

he smiles cheekily, your arousal still dressing his lips and chin. “does that mean i did good?”

you scoff loudly at the praise-seeking. “you could use a little more practice.”

“okay, no worries. lemme try again, i bet i can make you cum faster this time.”

© cheolhub — all rights reserved, please refrain from copying, reposting, modifying or translating my work on any platform.

[requiemforthepoets]

CHARLES LECLERC 𖦹 CL16

main masterlist

always

rainy evening and impromptu italian date night with charles.

it hits different, ‘cause it’s you

you are never fond of changes, but charles is the biggest change that you’ll never get over from.

underdog (leclerc!sister series)

despite being a talented fencer, you were still considered as an underdog, but you are here to prove everyone wrong.

wired interview (leclerc!sister series)

you and charles had been invited by wired to do a interview, wherein you answer the most search questions in googles about you, and it is also your son’s debut.

paper crown of silver and gold (leclerc!sister series)

finally, it was your olympic debut—the one that you had been waiting for all your life. you had never expected that you’ll be advancing to the finals, battling for gold.

you’re the closest to heaven that i’ll ever be

the celestials are unseen guides who help souls cross the afterlife. you are bound to the earthly realm by your duty, and had formed a unique connection with charles along the way after he had caught a glimpse of you. charles can’t seem to get you out of his mind, so he began seeking for you, and you began to grapple with your duty and the growing attachment towards charles, realizing that the only way to truly be with him is to give up your immortality, experiencing human emotions, pain, and vulnerability.

[justmeinadaze]

Children of the Night Part 2 (Steddie X You)

A/N: Shhhhhhhhh my angsty brain has entered the chat :P.

Warnings: Vampire Daddy Eddie/ Human (kinda switch) Steve/ Human Sub Fem Reader, SMUT, daddy kink (cause Im me), voyeurism (kinda; Eddie watches his baby girl and baby boy play), FLUFF, Steve talks about how he and Eddie first got together and their matching tattoos, ANGST (Sooooo much angst), Reader gets hurt (Shot) and the boys have to do sudo surgery to help her, blood drinking is mentioned in a bit of detail, reader touches on her rough childhood (brief), mentions of homophobia from their town and Steve's parents as well as some people online, Eddie waking up in the upside down is mentioned near the end.

Certain events from the show are mentioned (the deaths) but in this AU they'd happen in 2003 not 1986. I think that's everything.

Word count: 6110

When you woke up the next afternoon, Steve was missing and Eddie was fast asleep on his back beside you. Your eyes took a moment to fully take him in as you scanned the tattoos on his bare chest. He had a few mundane ones but a couple struck your attention. Near his heart was a month and a year; March 2003. Along one of his left ribs were lyrics from a song you knew fairly well; “You’re the closest to heaven that I’ll ever be” along with the initials S.H. and the year 2002.

Getting out of bed, you went on the hunt for Steve and found him in their kitchen washing dishes. 

“Hey, Y/N.”

“Hi, Steve.”

The man softly smiles along with you as you reiterate each other’s names. 

“Are you hungry? I can make you a sandwich.” When you nod he begins heading towards the fridge before pausing to face you again. “Um, full disclosure, Eddie’s blood that he snacks on is in here as well. It’s not…like…open or anything but I thought I should tell you just in case it makes you uncomfortable or…”

“Oh, no. It’s ok. I don’t mind.” Grinning at your answer, he pulls out everything he needs and places it on the counter. “If he has blood in the fridge then why does he feed on you? Is it different?”

“Uh, kind of. Think about it kind of like how we humans snack between meals.” His gentle honey eyes glance your way before he continues. “Plus, he doesn’t feel comfortable taking a lot from me. He’s afraid of doing real damage. What he does take isn’t enough to be long lasting.”

“He seems to really care about you. How long have you two been together?”

Steve chuckles as he continues to focus on the task in front of him. “I like how you just found out vampires are real but your first question to me is about our relationship.”

“Hm. Like vampires, a non-toxic relationship always seemed like a fairy tale.”

His eyes met yours before sliding over your food and you flash him a polite smirk as you thank him. 

“Eddie and I have been together for a little over three years. We technically grew up together but didn’t get to know each other till his third senior year of high school. He failed a lot.”, he laughs under his breath. 

“Three years…2002?” Steve gives you a quizzical look as he nods. “He has a tattoo with lyrics, initials, and that year. Are you S.H.?”

Raising his tank top, he shows you his own tattoo on his left rib. 

“I’d give up forever to touch you. E.M. 2002.”

“The first time I made a move, this song was randomly playing on the radio. Eddie kept talking about how corny it was. I told him I thought it was romantic and the fucker laughed at me so of course I had to kiss him.” You giggled at his story as he took your empty plate and placed it in the sink. “After I thought I lost him, I got this tattoo.”

His face fell at the memory and your heart broke for him. Trying not to dwell, he quickly cleared his throat and tried to shift focus. 

“Enough about me. Tell me more about you.”

“I mean you already know the bulk of me.”

“I know about Mina. I feel like I don’t know much about Y/N.”

“There isn’t much to tell. I’ve lived here my whole life. It’s pretty much been me and my best friend… I don’t have a lot of friends or family. I have a brother but…that’s a long story.”

“What about your parents?”

“Gone. My father died when I was young and my mother is in jail.” Steve’s head tilts at your confession, not in judgement but in understanding. “Are your parents still around?”

“Uh no. They were kind of out of my life long before we moved here. We grew up in a small town before we moved here and when rumors started to spread that I was ‘fucking the freak’ they cut me off and pushed me out.”

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry, Steve. What about Eddie’s parents?”

The watch on his wrist beeps as he glances towards the window. 

“He’ll be up soon so you can ask him that yourself.”

***

“What are you doing?”, Eddie asked as he came back into his room. 

You wanted to give them some time alone and allow the long-haired boy to eat without you gawking at him so you hid out in their bedroom and did some work on their computer. 

“Hey. I hope it’s ok, I wanted to do some quick checks on your site since I wasn’t able to moderate last night.” Pulling up an extra chair, he sat beside you as his eyes scanned the screen in front of you. “So like cursing and some of these lewd sentences Steve doesn’t care about but things like this where people threaten to hurt others or… these homophobic comments.” Your eyes glance his way as a low growl rumbles from his chest. “I’m sorry.”

Eddie blinks as if coming back into the moment.

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you—”

“No, I meant…sorry you have deal with ignorance like this.”

“I don’t care if it’s directed at me. I’ve dealt with it my whole life but… he deserves better.”

“Steve told me about his parents not approving of you two; that the town you came from called you a—”

“Freak. Yeah. I was always a bit different than people there; the nerd who played D&D whose father was arrested.” Your palm comfortingly rubs his shoulder and he sighs in pleasure at the action. “He told me your mother was arrested. May I ask what for?”

“Parental neglect.”

His eyes met yours as you both read each other. Two people in this world who understood what it was like to grow up a certain way; to be a part of a club no child should ever be a part of. 

Managing a smile, you turn your attention back to the monitor to continue what you were doing before. Cold fingers run through your hair, gently petting your head as your eyes flutter closed. 

“You can ask me questions now if you want to, sweetheart.”

Swiveling around in your chair to face him, you hang your head and he can’t help but look at you with confusion. 

“I don’t want to hurt you or make you uncomfortable.”

“Hey.” He lifts up chin and gives you what he hopes is a comforting smile. “I’m telling you it’s alright.”

At that moment, Steve walks in, handing him a black mug that blocks out its contents, and takes a seat on the bed across from where you two were sitting. 

“What does the tattoo on your chest mean? The 2003?”

On impulse his hand hovers over it through his shirt as he tenderly grins at you. 

“That’s when I died. When my…human heart stopped beating. Steve says I’m too dramatic.”, he chuckles trying to lighten the mood. 

“He is.”

“You two got together a year before he died? Steve…”

“We’ll save that particular story for another time, honey.”

“Are there other vampires?”

“Um, I’m not going to lie we aren’t sure. We’ve tried doing research but can’t seem to find much of anything. Same with our friends.”

“You have friends?” They both laugh at your question making you giggle to. “Sorry. I just meant that you both seem like you spend a lot of time alone.”

“That’s fair. One of our closest friends set up the stream for us and does some AV Club tech mumbo jumbo to reroute the feed so no one can find us.”

“Why did you guys decide to stream what you do?”

“Money.”, they answer at the same time.

“When we left our hometown, we left with nothing. We still need a roof, I need to eat food, and he needs to be safe.”, Steve explained. 

“Ok, so, you need a roof but no coffin. I imagine because it’s now nighttime, sunlight is a no go?”

“That is correct. Um, silver seems to hurt a fucking lot and crosses. I heal pretty quickly and I’ve been able to heal him. It’s just those little bites though. Thankfully, we’ve never had to try bigger wounds.”

“Can you transform like Dracula?”

“Uh…I’m not sure you want to see that but yes. It’s not like one of those cute little black bats or anything. I shift into the bats that bit me.”

“That’s how you were turned?” Eddie nods. “Is that…is that what your scars are?”

“Another time, Y/N.”

“Steve…I told her it was ok to ask and will there ever be a good time to tell that story?”

“Jesus fucking Christ. Again, why the fuck do I even bother? You never listen.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and watches him stomp out of the room. 

“And I’M the drama queen.”, he jokes. 

“No, I understand. He lost the man he loved for a time. I can’t imagine what that does to someone.”

“Have you ever been in love, princess?”

“The way you guys are no. I thought I was once but…”

“It wasn’t with that douchebag right?”

“No.”, you nervously chuckle. “No. I think with John I thought it was better to go through what he put me through than be alone. I hate being alone.”

“Yeah…I know the feeling.”

“Eddie, did you kill him? John.”

The boy’s jaw clenched as looked away from you. “Yes.”

“What—What did you do with him?”

“It’s better if you don’t know, Y/N.”

“Is that normal for you? Killing people.”

Something in the atmosphere changed as the vampire beside you began breathing heavier. 

“Is that what you think I am? Some fucking monster that just hunts people and murders them for their blood?!”

“Eddie.”, Steve tried to comfort him as he powerwalked back into the room when he heard his partners voice raise. “Baby, everything’s ok.”

“I’m NOT a monster. If anything he was for hurting you!”

“Eddie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for my question to come out that way. I just…I’m learning. I know you were protecting me. I don’t blame you.”

The man pushes Steve back and vanishes out of the room as he runs out the front door. Sighing, he puts his hands on his hips as he hangs his head. 

“I told him I didn’t want to hurt him. He insisted I ask questions.”

“I know, honey. Eddie’s always been the kind of person that doesn’t know how strong he actually is. Because of that, he overestimates how much he can handle. I on the other hand know what I can and can’t. I’ve already had the worst day of my life so I imagine nothing can be heavier than that.” His eyes glance your way before continuing. 

“He’s tried to explain to me before the feelings he gets but it’s hard without feeling them myself. Depending on the emotion, he says it can physically hurt. I imagine whatever he sensed the other night… it was bad for him to kill your boyfriend.”

“When he brought me here, you said you knew he killed him because you knew him.”

“Eddie’s like a knight in shining armor. If he senses someone he cares deeply for is in danger he’ll…he’ll do what needs to be done.”

“Did he do that for you?”

“Come on, Y/N. Let me drive you home.”

########

You couldn’t sleep at all that night, tossing and turning till you finally just gave up. Taking a seat at your own computer, you decided to do some research of your own.  

“E.M. +mysterious death+ S.H.”

A few things came up at first but nothing really stood out until you landed on small publication from a tiny news station in Indiana. 

“City mogul’s son Steve Harrington missing; 2 of towns prominent citizens murdered!”

“S.H.”, you mumbled to yourself as you continued to read.

“Police found the bodies of two young men brutally murdered outside of the Forest Hills Trailer Park this past Wednesday, June 15, 2003. The boys had recently graduated from Hawkins High School and it is unknown at this time what they were doing in the area as that was not their place of residence. 

Wayne Munson, fugitive Eddie Munson’s uncle, told our reporters that it wasn’t uncommon for people to come and harass him but there is no proof that is why they were there. Further analysis of the crime scene found the young Harrington’s DNA mixed with the others but his location at this time is undetermined.”

“E.M.”, you sigh, clicking the hyper link on his name. 

There he was. A picture of a younger Eddie with a group of boys wearing a shirt that read “Hellfire” in front of what looked to be a high school cafeteria wall. He looked a bit different than he did now. As he bit his bottom lip flashing the rock & roll symbol with his hands, he seemed happy. Nothing in his demeanor that you saw matched the headline that followed. 

“Eddie Munson Wanted for Murder of Young Girl.”

“Edward Munson is the prime suspect in the murder of young Hawkins High Cheerleading Senior Chrissy Cunningham who was violently butchered in the younger Munson’s residence before he fled the scene. Munson is wanted and possibly armed so proceed with caution! Call Chief Powell if you notice anything suspicious.”

There were more articles underneath discussing the case as new murders piled up and Eddie was blamed for every one of them. 

“I’m not a monster.” Eddie had insisted and you believed him but obviously something happened. 

Knocking on your front door gave you pause and you hastily turned off your monitor before running to answer it. 

“Arthur. How can I help you?”

“Where is my brother?”, he snarled.

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen John in two days.”

“Bullshit! He said he was coming over here to talk to you but he never came back home.” Shoving his shoulder into the door, he pushed past you to look around your house. 

“Arthur, get the fuck out! I told you he’s not here! I don’t know where he is!”

“Oh you don’t? How did you get that black eye, Y/N?”

“A souvenir he gave me before he fucking left.”

“Problem?” You jumped 3ft in the air when another man entered your house but this one you didn’t mind. Steve squared his shoulders as he placed himself in front of you. “I think she’s made it perfectly clear that he’s not here.”

“And who the fuck are you?”

“That’s none of your fucking business. Now…leave.”

Arthur strides forward till he’s face to face with the man in front of you as they stare each other down. 

“It’s my business if you did something to him. If that whore is fucking you and John found out he would have made sure that neither of you were heard from again.”

“Get. Out.” Steve’s voice startled you. In all the time you had known him, you had never heard him be so authoritative. “This is my final warning.”

They stared at each other for another few seconds before Arthur bumped his shoulder with his own and stomped out the door. The man’s demeanor in front of you instantly deflated as he turned to check on you.

“Are you alright? Eddie sensed something and—”

Your lips cut him off as they crashed to his own. It took a moment for his brain to catch up with what was happening but when it did, he fully embraced it as his palms came up to cup your face and hold you close. As you pulled away, his thumbs caress your cheek tenderly as he smiles. 

It all happens so fast. 

There’s a loud bang and a sudden sting that pierces your side. Your hands shoot out to grab his biceps as the sound of growling and screaming fills the room. 

“Steve?”

Your knees buckle as he catches you and once again you hear the familiar sound of their heated words. 

“We have to get her back to our house! Come on!”

“No! She needs to go to a hospital!”

“If she goes to hospital, Steve, she WILL die! This isn’t a debate.” You wince when your roughly lifted into arms and the wind blows through your hair as you’re placed down on something hard. “Ok, princess. We’ll be right back.”

As soon as you start to cry, you feel a palm moving your hair out of your face. 

“No! We have to get the bullet out first. Fucking hell! I still think she should be at a hospital. We don’t even know if you can heal a wound like this!”

“You can yell at me fucking later! Do whatever you have to do!”

“Eddie?” The vampire kneels beside you as he tries to dry the tears that are falling down your face. “I-I don’t think… you’re a monster.”

“Baby, don’t worry about that right now, okay?”

“I’m sorry. I like you both a lot…fuck…I think I could have been…a-a good Mina to your stream.”, you laugh weakly. 

“STEVEN!”

“I’m coming! Ok, shit. Roll her on to her side and hold her still. I need her still, Eddie. Y/N, bite down on this ok, honey. I’m not going to lie; this is really going to fucking hurt.”

You take the wooden spoon he hands you and place it between your teeth as the long-haired boy holds you firmly in his grasp. You had never felt anything this bad before. As Steve dug into your wound, you bit down so hard on the material in your mouth you thought it would break. 

“I know. I know, baby. You’re almost through this!”, he soothed through gritted teeth as he focused on the task in front of him. 

You tried so hard to stay still but every synapse in your brain was telling you to run from the thing causing you this much pain. Eddie’s grip tightened as he held you in place while he squeezed his eyes shut. The truth was he could feel your hurt and Steve’s panic which was tearing him apart. That mixed with the delicious smell of your blood on their table was making things even harder for him. 

“Got it! Go, Ed.”

He released you from his hold, quickly yanked off his shirt, and reached for the butcher knife to cut a line along his chest. Steve placed you gently on his lap as the vampire positioned your head towards the wound.

“Come on, sweetheart. I need you to drink.”

A little bit of his blood dripped onto your lower lip and your eyes widened at the taste. It was the most delicious thing you had ever had in your life. Your mouth opened wider as your limp arm tangled around his neck, bringing him closer to you as you did what he commanded. 

“Fuck…is…is it working, Steve?”, Eddie moaned. 

The man nodded as his eyes remained studiously on your back as he watched it gradually begin to heal. The metalhead’s fingers threaded through your hair as he held you to him.

“Baby, you-you may have to pull her…away when its time because…fuck this feels so fucking good.”

“Ok…Ok, Y/N. You’re good. Let’s not push it.” As Steve reached for you, the metalhead growled like a dog with you try to take away its toy. “Eddie…I have to take her. We don’t know what too much of your blood can do.”

To his surprise, it was his partner that pull your hair, tugging you back so his lips could mingle with your now stained ones. Your own palms cupped his cheek as his tongue invaded your mouth making you moan at the feeling. You didn’t think anything of it when his kisses travelled to your neck. 

“Eddie. No.”, Steve warned but his boyfriend didn’t hear. He was so wrapped in your taste and smell as he continued to move. 

Abruptly, he hissed and dropped you to the floor as he ran out of the house. 

“Wh-What happened?”

“Come on, honey. Let’s get you into the shower.”, Steve deflects as he put the little silver cross in his pocket and lifts you into his arms.

##########

With your knees under your chin, you sat in the warm water and allowed Steve to clean you. He originally planned on leaving you alone but you begged him to sit with you. Rolling up his sleeves, he placed himself on the floor facing you as he washed the blood from your skin.

“Are you alright, Y/N?” As you nod your head, his fingers gently reach under your chin, and turn you to look at him. “Can you verbally answer me?”

“I’m ok. I’m… No, you won’t believe me.”

“Baby, I’m in love with a vampire. You’d be surprised what I believe.”, he jokes; softly grinning when you laugh. 

“I’m…more in shock that…Arthur tried to kill me. I… I knew John was….you know…John but. I just never thought either of them would hurt me like that. I-If it wasn’t for you two…I wouldn’t be here.”

“Shhh, hey, everything’s alright. You’re safe now. Nothing like that is ever going to happen to you again. I’m sorry I couldn’t…protect you…but thankfully Eddie got there in time to keep things from getting worse.”

“Steve, what are you taking about? You did protect me. I was so scared but I felt safer when you showed up. You also just kept me from dying so I’d say you did more than protect.” Your eyes scanned him over as you politely smiled before getting to his feet and helping you out of the tub. “I feel like I should tell you something.”

“Some other time, pretty girl.”

After pulling one of their shirts over your head, he goes on the hunt for shorts so you would feel less exposed. 

“Steve Harrington.” The man freezes in place as he listens to you speak. “Eddie Munson. Two boys from Indiana who went missing. One around March 2003 and the other a few months later.”

“Steve?” Eddie was suddenly in their bedroom doorway with a concerned look on his face. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong? I felt you in pain.”

“Wanted for murder of three kids including a high school cheerleader.” The vampire swiveled his head in your direction as his eyes narrowed. “I-I found some articles online. There were also two boys murdered outside of…Wayne Munson’s trailer the night Steve disappeared.”

“I know you didn’t kill those kids—”

“The first 3, no. The two a few months later—”

“Shut up, Eddie.”, Steve huffs. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Then leave and I’ll tell her.”

“No.”, the man responds curtly as he kicks back into gear and finds a pair of boxers, tossing them in your direction. “I don’t feel comfortable leaving you alone with her right now.”

“Excuse me?”, the vampire snarled as his posture straightened. “I just helped save her life.”

“You also were about to drain her and I’m not going to let you do that! She deserves better!”

“You keep saying that like living with me is a chore, Steven. Like you’re in prison or hell.”

“We’re both in fucking hell, Edward. That’s what this is.”, he gestures around him. 

“You can leave any time you want to, babe.”

“Don’t you do that! After everything I do for you and everything we’ve been through, don’t condescend to me!”

“What do you want from me?! Do you want me to go back where I came from? Act like I didn’t fucking crawl to get back to you.”

Steve’s fist raised and you gasped as he smacked the vampire in the face. 

“You don’t get to do that. I was there to, Eddie.”, he sighs as he comes to sit on the edge of the bed. “I’m tired. All the running, hiding, and fighting…worrying. If you bite her, all of that becomes her burden to. And god forbid we ever need to run again, I don’t want her to experience what I did. To know that empty feeling I experienced when I thought you were gone.”

Dropping the shorts he handed you to the floor, you went to sit beside him and tenderly ran your fingers through his hair. 

“Even before we began talking, I watched you take care of him. I’ve never seen a love like that before. My parents hated each other and all my exes were trash. Steve… you deserve to feel good to. You deserve to have a good life. Let me…help you.”

With your hand on his cheek, you turned him to face you, bringing his lips back to yours. 

“It’s ok, baby. You can use me. Let go.”, you whispered when you felt him holding back. 

Steve glanced towards Eddie who smiled in return before grabbing the desk chair and placing himself in front of you both. 

“Go ahead, sweetheart. Daddy can take care of himself tonight. Take control. Show Y/N what King Steve Harrington could do.”

Something flashed in the boy’s gaze when it shifted back to you; something more dominate you had never seen from him before in their previous streams. Pushing you back towards the pillows, his kisses came at a much more hectic and stronger pace. 

Your fingers tugged at his shirt and he quickly pulled it off, groaning into your lips as your palm ran down his chest. His own hand caressed your thighs, slowly tracing your skin till his digits found their way between your folds. 

“Please. Touch me, Steve. Can you feel how wet I am for you?”

Heavily sighing, his eyes locked with yours as his middle finger slid into your entrance.

“Fuck me. Honey, your so fucking tight.” As he slowly moved his finger, his thumb began circling your clit causing your eyes to roll as you moaned. “She’s just fucking clinging to me, Daddy. Shit.”

Eddie stifled a groan of his own as he palmed the bulge in his jeans. 

“Yeah? Why don’t you put another finger in there? Give her taste of what she’s in for.”

“Can I taste you?”, you plead.

Watching with eager eyes, you wait as he leans back to push off his pants and hastily gets to his knees, pumping his cock in his hand as he brings it to your lips. 

“Jesus, Steve. You’re so fucking big.” Your tongue darts out to lick the precum from his tip and the whimper he makes has you clenching, desperately needing him to put his fingers back into your needy hole. 

“Say it again.”

“Your cock is so big. It’s gonna stretch me open.” 

“Fuck—yeah I am, baby. Open your mouth.” You do as he instructs, opening your mouth wide as you stick out your tongue. “Good girl, Y/N.”

Thrusting his hips, his length moves between the opening making him mewl as he lifts up your shirt and kneads your breast with his hand. Hearing someone spit, he glances towards Eddie right as he was bending over his dick, allowing a glob of drool to land on the tip before stroking it along himself. 

Steve couldn’t take it anymore as he turned your head towards him and fully pushed his cock down your throat. While one hand petted your hair, the other returned to your cunt as he slid two of his fingers inside of you and pumped them at a fast pace. You were barely able to catch any form of breath as you whimpered and your throat constricted around him. 

“Goddamn it. Yes! Come on, baby. Cum. Cum for me.”

As his fingers curled inside of you, you moaned loudly as he held your head still while the dam broke and you came. 

Steve’s eyes were wild with lust as he pulled back and passionately kisses your lips as you gradually came down from your high. 

“Come on, Y/N.”, he murmured. “Let’s give Daddy a good show.”

You allowed him to take control as he moved you around till you both were facing Eddie with you on your hands and knees. The wheels of the desk chair rumbled along the floor as the vampire scooted till he was level with your face. His cold fingers grazed you skin as he helped you take of your shirt before caressing your cheek. 

“You both look so beautiful like this. God, I wish you two could smell and feel how I do. You’re right, princess. He needed this. All that fucking testosterone of being in control just radiating from him and the scent of your cunt just begging for him. Fuck me.”

While Eddie talked Steve positioned himself behind your body, mewling as he guided himself into you. The metalhead grinned as he watched your eyebrows scrunch together as he began stroking his cock again at the sight. 

“I know, baby. You can take it. G-Good girl. Look at Daddy, sweetheart. Fuck, you’re so pretty. How does she feel, Steve?” The man had both eyes closed while his hands took hold of your waist as he did small thrusts inside you. “Steve Harrington, I asked you something.”

“Tight…warm…fuck…”, he grunted. 

“What about you, baby girl?”

“Full. He-He’s so deep. Agh!”, you whine as Steve roughly smacks his hips against yours. “Can I kiss you, please?”

Nodding his head, his fingers tangle in your hair as he leans forward allowing you to taste his lips. You groan as the man behind picks up his rhythm at the sight, thrusting into you with purpose as he hits your sensitive spot over and over. 

“Don’t take your eyes of me.”, Eddie commands as he leans back and continues stroking his dick in front you. 

Steve leaned his chest onto you to your back, reaching under your body to play with your nipples and massage your tits in his large palms. 

“You feel so good, Y/N. So fucking wet and tight. Fuck. You take me so well, pretty girl. I knew—mmm—I knew from the first moment we talked to you…”

“W-What, baby? What did you know? Tell me, please.”

“You’re different.”, he grunted in your ear. “You don’t deserve the bullshit you’ve been through.”

Your arm reached around his neck and tilted his head so you could kiss his lips.

“I don’t ever have to worry about that again right, Steve? I’m safe with you two.”

“Fuck.”, the man growled as he pushed up onto his knees, tugging back on your hair to bring you with him. “Yeah, honey. You’re safe.”

“Jesus, it’s been—mmph—its been awhile since I’ve seen dominate Steve.”

You don’t see it but the man smirks at his vampire boyfriend as he thrusts faster into you, clinging to your body as his fingers come down to rub your clit. 

“Cum, baby. Please. I need to feel you squeeze my dick the way you squeezed my fingers. Make sure y-you keep your eyes on Daddy when you do, pretty girl.”

You did as you were told, staring into Eddie’s beautiful brown eyes as you moaned Steve’s name till you were blinded by white and nearly collapsed in his arms. 

“Yes! Good girl. Such a good, beautiful girl. Where can I cum, honey?”

“In-Inside. Please.”, you mumbled. 

Steve glanced towards Eddie who nodded in approval and with a few more rough pumps you felt him coat your insides.

“Shit. Come here, big boy.”

After carefully pulling out of you, you watched with half lidded eyes as Steve dutifully jumped down in front of him and took his partners cock into his mouth. Eddie groaned as his movements began choppy and he came down the boy’s throat.

***

Eddie coughs before his eyes shoot open and he sits up from his spot on the cold concrete. 

“Dustin? Henderson?!” Panic sets in as the silence around him become deafening. “S-Steve?”

Slowly, he wobbled to his feet taking in the upside down around him. All the bats were dead and there was none of the thunder or rumbles that had been there before. He groaned as his arms gripped his stomach. He was in an immense amount of pain. It wasn’t like a physical pain but something could almost feel in his soul. 

“Eddie…”

“Steve?” The metalhead turned in every direction but didn’t see the man he loved anywhere. 

“I miss you so much. I feel so lost without you, baby.”

“Steve!? I’m here! I’m right here!” Hobbling towards his trailer, he began to hear faint music. 

“And all I can taste is this moment And all I can breathe is your life And sooner or later, it's over I just don't wanna miss you tonight.”

Something in the atmosphere changed and Eddie felt it immediately. 

Danger. 

The man’s eyes went black, his mind filling with Steve as he ran almost violently through the wall of his home and jumped through the gate in the roof onto the floor of the dark trailer below.

Your eyes shot open as you gasped awake.

“Well, that’s new.”, Eddie said sarcastically as he scanned you over. 

“Hey, honey. You’re okay. Here drink this.”, Steve cooed as he hurried back into the bedroom with a bottle of water. “You’re safe, remember. It was just a nightmare.”

“No…it wasn’t.” Your eyes met with the vampires as he sighed and turned towards Steve. “She just experienced one of my memories.”

“How do you know that?”, he asked. 

“I felt it. It was the same way I felt…when I woke up and…”

The other man held up his hand to silence him. “Maybe she drank enough of your blood for that to happen? I mean I’m not surprised if drinking your blood can heal, who knows what else it can do.”

“Or your dick is just that amazing.”

Steve rolled his eyes as he smirked in his boyfriend’s direction. It took them a moment to realize you had started crying as you wrapped your arms around Eddie’s neck. 

“I’m so sorry you went through that. Waking up alone like that in that scary place and then feeling what you felt.” After you let him go, he kissed your forehead and Steve climbed in beside you. “There’s a lot I don’t know, huh.”

They both nodded and you did that same before laying down flat in their bed once more. 

“While you were asleep I cleaned you but I wasn’t sure if you needed anything else. Do you need anything?”

“No, Steve. Thank you.”

Turning off the light beside the bed, he rolled back over to be met with your awaiting arms as you circled them around his waist and rested your head on his chest. When you absently raised your arm in the air, they both seemed confused until you found Eddie’s wrist and tugged his own limbs around your hip. 

“Thank you both for what you did today.”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

As your eyes drift shut again, you feel the vampire move as he reaches over to caress Steve’s cheek and in return the man leans into it as he kisses his palm. 

“I’m sorry for what I said about how you could leave if you wanted to. Sometimes I forget that pain you went through without me since I was knocked out for most of it. Feeling her dream…my memory…when I woke up, Steve, it was the first thing I felt…your grief. I can understand you not wanting her to feel that.”

“Taking care of you isn’t chore for me. I like looking out for you but I know a lot of that is panic. I work so hard to keep things the same because if they are then I know the outcome. Honestly, she scares me. Like you I like Y/N a lot but it’s been a while since we’ve been vulnerable like this, Eddie. Tonight, we got lucky but what if other bad things happen?”

“Then like tonight, I’ll handle it. You’re not alone anymore, sweetheart. We can do anything together right?” Steve’s exhales before he nods. “One day at a time, baby. Let’s just focus on the positive…like me getting to watch my two beautiful babes go at it.”

Eddie sticks out his tongue making the man chuckle. 

“The three of us will have to talk about that part more but IS it ok if I’m her Daddy to?”

“Yeah, yeah of course, honey. As long as you and she are comfortable with it. Baby girl doesn’t know what she’s in for when it comes to you.”

“Well, she’ll find out soon enough.”

##############

Part 1 Here