#i didn't share any of my writing for *months* when i started

[ao3commentoftheday]

On a whim and because I was momentarily taken by a new fandom I had made a requests accepted fic where I took in requests. From a few requests I wrote I got two requests from the same person and wrote them but they were so annoying because all the response I got was "I want this to be longer"

That was something that added to me eventually not being as into the fandom anymore and so I haven't written the other requests for a long while.

It's part many things and is also because the fandom is very very new so the characters' personalities aren't that known yet so I'm not quite sure how to characterize them in my writing. So I feel a bit guilty about not writing the other requests and regret completing the request of the disrespectful person first, I didn't know they'd be like that until they commented that reaction to what I wrote.

Sorry for the ramble but TLDR how does a writer handle feelings of guilt from not completing requests quickly? Like I think it's been months now.

... and it's been even more months since you dropped this ask in my inbox, sorry!

To start with, I'm just going to flag for folks that you should not post "I'm taking requests" works on AO3. It's against the Terms of Service, so if it gets reported, the PAC team will ask you to remove it. You don't say here where you posted yours, but I just wanted to give everyone a heads up on that count.

I'm really sorry that your experience with writing for requests went kind of sour on you. That's never a fun time. I can see how it would sour you on the practice, especially in conjunction with the fandom being new and the characters still not very fleshed out.

When it comes to disappointing people, you kind of have to pick your battles. Human beings these days encounter thousands of people in any given week, thanks to the internet, and we can't hold ourselves to the same standards of caring for a person we've interacted with one via a screen and the people we've built up relationships with.

That isn't to say it's alright to be a dick to people. Wil Wheaton has been very clear about that. It's just that carrying guilt over something you haven't done for a stranger is very different from carrying guilt over something you haven't done for your partner or your best friend.

In my experience, the best way to move forward is just to reply to the message that gave you the request and say, "I'm sorry, I don't think I can work on this right now. Please feel free to share it with another author." You can add in that you hope they find someone. You can change the "right now" to "after all". You can make the message as long or as short as you want, but just include those 2 ideas:

I'm not going to fulfill this request

if you're still wanting to read this thing, ask someone else to write it (or write it yourself)

The guilt is because you know that someone wanted a story and they haven't received it. What you don't know is whether they still want that story, whether they specifically want it from you and only you, and to what degree they were invested in the idea versus just throwing something out there on a whim.

If you do still want to write the stories, remember that fandom is a hobby not a job. Fic requests aren't assignments. You don't have any due dates. Inspiration comes and goes as it pleases, and sometimes we bite off more than we can chew.

Be kind to yourself, anon. Write the stories that interest you. Give away the ones that don't. Allow yourself the time you need to finish what you want to do. 💗

[halfmoth-halfman]

Leaving this blog.

With my mini-series finishing up soon, I've decided to leave this blog as well as my AO3 account once it’s finished. This is not a decision I've made lightly, but circumstances have left this a place where I no longer feel safe.

As of now, I won't be deactivating this blog and will be leaving my fics up for anyone who'd still like to read them. I can't say this decision won't change later, but right now I feel that I've put too much work into this blog to simple delete it.

Below the cut is an explanation of why I'm making this decision, and what has been happening on this blog since the end of last year. It's not required to read or anything to understand the gist of this post; it's simply for my own peace of mind knowing that I spoke up about it. There will be topics that are possibly triggering such as harassment, threats, and racism so please mind the warnings and tags.

The mini-series is queued to finish next week, but there will be no more fic polls or wip wednesdays. I'll still be on here to make sure the queue does its job, and maybe post some stuff from my old drafts as a last bit of fun.

I'll have dms tentatively open for the next two-ish weeks for those who'd like to follow my new account, however I will not be answering anything from empty blogs. After that, asks and dms will be turned off, and I won't be coming back to this blog very often, if at all.

I cannot say thank you enough to the wonderful readers I've had and the amazing people I've met. I don't think I would've ever continued writing without your support and friendship. There's nothing I can do to show my appreciation for all of you.

Maybe we'll see each other again. If not, I hope your inspiration is always flowing, and 2024 treats you kindly.

Mothie 💜

Again, TW: rape/death threats, violent racism, repeated harassment, and mental health.

Back in November, I started getting rude, mean-spirited anons. It wasn't anything I was too bothered with because it didn't happen often and, honestly, my inbox gets flooded for a week or so anytime I post about certain topics. I blocked, deleted, reported and moved on thinking whoever it was would get bored and leave.

However, what started as a few rude anons calling me a bitch or stupid turned into a lot of anons being vile and racist which only worsened over the next few months.

I spoke about it in this post (link) near the end of November. In that post, I mentioned that those were the nicer asks and that was not an exaggeration. I have gotten my fair share of shitty anons as seen here (link) when I had to take a break from my blog because of said anons, but I have never gotten the amount of vitriol that I saw in these asks.

When I turned anon off, I started getting even worse messages from empty blogs that would either be blocked or deactivate within a week. When I turned my askbox off, I started getting hateful DMs. When I turned DMs off, it jumped from Tumblr to my other social medias which I had to private, completely avoid, or outright delete.

I got messages attacking my writing, calling me slurs, threatening to find me and rape or kill me, sending me explicit porn and rape videos while insulting my sexuality, and going into gross detail about how much people I interacted with hated me or how I would never be as good as them. I tried to power through it, pretending everything was fine while I pulled away from this blog, from writing, from friends that I loved and talked to every day. Everything about this blog, the fandoms I enjoyed, the people I talked to, made me so anxious because of these constant messages.

I took several breaks while dealing with this in therapy, repeatedly trying to come back and get comfortable on this blog, but within a few days of coming back the messages would start up again, either here or on any of my social medias I tried to unprivate, and I couldn't deal with it.

Only in the last week or two has it started to slow down and stop on a few of my other socials, which is the only reason I even feel comfortable making this post. However, in regards to this blog and my feelings toward it, the damage is done.

I don't think I can ever truly convey how isolating this has been. So many of these messages were about how I've spoken about my struggles as a black woman in fandom, how much of a burden it puts on the people who interact with me, how inferior I am to them and that I am everything that's wrong with fandom.

I felt scared and anxious to talk to anyone about this, especially people mentioned in those messages, out of fear that this harassment would jump to them. There are friendships that I stepped away from that I will never get back because of that. There are friends that I've felt like I was betraying by never telling them about what was happening because I felt too ashamed about letting this get to me.

I constantly worried that making a post like this would feel like, "Oh, Mothie's whining and trauma-dumping into the void about fandom racism again", that those messages would be right and it would force people to feel like they had to support me. Or worse, that people would agree and it would only make things worse. I've wrestled with so much guilt trying to decide to make this post and figure out what to do to make me trust myself again.

Ultimately, I don't think I was wrong for talking about my issues in fandom, and I don't think anything I've said has warranted this kind of harassment. I don’t know the who’s or why’s behind of this, but I've come to terms with the fact that I'll never really know. Truthfully, I'm not sure it even matters at this point. In the end, I think moving on from this blog entirely would be the best thing for me right now.

But, man, does it fucking suck.

This was the blog where I felt comfortable enough to start writing again, to start posting my fics. It's the blog where I met so many friends, got the courage to join new communities, found new hobbies, new music, new things to enjoy in life. It feels silly to say about a blog, but this was a place where I felt like I was able to carve out a space for myself. I put so much work into making it my own, and now the only thing I feel about it is anxious.

Hate messages and threats and racism have always been a part of fandom, and the internet as a whole. I’ve known since I started participating in fandom spaces that it was going to and continue to happen. I've known that I had to have a tough skin, especially if I ever spoke up about problems I faced because no one was going to have my back if I didn't have my own. I thought I had learned how to deal with it, and how to make a safe space for myself. But this goes beyond that. I did not deserve this. No one deserves this.

In some ways, it feels like admitting defeat, like I'm weak or hypocritical for not being as strong as I pretended I was and leaving. In other ways, it feels freeing to start over, and I'm choosing to view look at this optimistically even if it bittersweet. I don't want to let this scare me away from writing or from speaking about things that are important to me. All I can do now is say I'm so incredibly sorry to those I've hurt by stepping away or keeping this secret, and make sure I'm able to at least leave this blog on as happy a note as I can have.

[mattodore]

found out while putting together matthias's oc page that his name has the exact same etymology and meaning as theo's name...

i’m sure this is information matthias is very normal about…

[todayisafridaynight]

thinkin back to the rggo story where mine saves daigo after he gets kidnapped because daigo thought kiryu was in danger and mine immediately scolds him for acting recklessly and daigo’s just ‘no one’s ever stood up to me before aside from kashiwagi’ and how that calls back to daigo’s Y0 substory where kiryu tells him only true friends will stand up to him and put him in his place and im--

[sharkneto]

Any advice on writing when you get no feedback?

I assume you mean posting some writing and then not getting any interaction? The cliche and true answer is to write for yourself, which you should be doing always.

But that's lame and abstract and, while true, not actually helpful.

First of all, it sucks. There is no way around it, it straight up sucks to not get any interaction on something you spent lots of time on and is very personal and takes guts to share. Let's all put an F in the chat for those snips and fics that just didn't go anywhere after posting. We remember them, at least.

Second, after poo-pooing the advice "write for yourself", I am going to seriously repeat it but expand on it so I'm not an asshole for doing so. I'm going to be honest, getting (positive) feedback on writing is like, the best drug I know. It feels incredible. It motivates like nothing else. It feels terrible to not get any after getting a taste of it on a previous project and it makes it hard to want to write (hear that, readers? tell your favorite authors you love them and their writing if you want more writing!). It's really hard to have a healthy relationship with comments and interactions because of that validation and dopamine rush they give. But you have to figure it out if you want to make writing/sharing writing a long term hobby (of which sharing is an optional part).

Forget, for a second, about readers. Are you excited about what you're writing? Do you think about it and can't wait for a chance to write those ideas down? Do you like reading it? The answer to all of those should be yes. That's not always achievable - I know many authors can't read their own work because they are their own worst critics. But you should at least be a little obsessed with your idea and thinking about it and the process of getting it down onto paper (er, screen). If you are writing something you don't care about but think readers will like, you've already lost. You are going to have 100x more fun writing some bullshit no one but you cares about than a plot you think is more boring than khaki but is all the rage in your fandom right now. Practice thinking about writing as a fun hobby for you rather than content creation for internet validation. If you can't, it might be a good idea to step back and take some space for a bit - it's fine, it will all still be there for you when you're ready to come back. I had to do that a bit ago. There's no shame in it.

Next bit is, if you can, find an enabler. Just one person you can throw snips and stories at and they want to read them and want to talk about your ideas (I hope it doesn't need to be said but you should reciprocate and chat about their ideas, too). If you have this outlet, rejection from the masses is a million times easier. You have someone to share all your thoughts with, someone you can go "look! I made this!" to, you don't have to bottle it up by yourself. I'm lucky, I have a few great enablers. I found them through mutuals and discord servers. Find your little private pocket of support.

Last bit is putting the feedback you do get into perspective. Set your expectations correctly - most people aren't going to be that Big Fic that everyone in the fandom has read and kudo'd and commented on. If you end up there - how lucky! But 99% of us are not that person. Set your expectations to the size of the fandom - is it huge or are there like 8 of you. Remember that every like or kudo or comment you get is a real, live person on the other side of it, who came and read your writing and took the time to signal to you that they liked it.

Picture it like you're in a bookshop, doing a book reading of your fic. Got six likes? Those are six real people who sat through the whole thing and clapped at the end. Got a comment? That's an actual person who came up at the end to tell you, to your face, that they liked it, which is much harder than just clapping (kudo/like). And that's not counting for the other people loitering in the shop, not committing to sitting down to listen but still listening and enjoying your tale while they browse. Can't forget our lurkers even if we wish they'd just take a goddamn seat and clap!

What I'm getting at is that the interactions you do get can't just be numbers, because they're not. The internet right now is so focused on quantifying interactions and follower count and numbers numbers numbers - it's easy to forget that there are real human beings on the other side of those numbers. The value isn't in the quantity, the value is in the individual you touched in that brief moment while they read what you wrote. For me, at least, that makes it easier to appreciate the interactions I do get.

Secret actual last thing I'm going to say on it? Fuck 'em. You wrote some good shit, it's their own problem people are sleeping on it. Fandom is fickle, you're not going to please everyone, might as well please yourself. Keep going out of spite, keep putting your shit out there until it finds the right people who will appreciate it or the others get their heads out of their asses.

TLDR: Write for yourself, enjoy what you're writing, find an enabler, remember every number is a real person, and - at the end of the day - fuck 'em.

[ourflagmeansgayrights]

I absolutely love our flag means death and I love many of the blogs I follow, yours included, but I don't ever want to truly join the fandom. The blatant racism is abysmal and just a strong reminder how toxic and racist fandom culture is in general. The fact half the show is about the romantic lead is the monster legend has made him out to be, and they even like him, yet their bias can't make them actuve see a moc has anything but dangerous. The fact people stanning and apologizing unironically his toxic second mate who is more fascinating as a bad guy than a good guy. Who throw tantrums when people literally point out things within the show that happen but also act like people are insane and toxic for thinking racial stereotypes are bad. How can they literally watch the show and agree with the villian that a character who's been told who's cried and had panic attacks and is a dude bro that he doesn't deserve nice things actually doesn't and is as scary and mean as everyone says he is. How can you think that and still think youre in the right. This show is so fun and positive. These people are so fucking insane over a dumbass goofy workplace "check out this booty im hawking whip my balls pissing on boots" pirate sitcom. It's weird!! It's so weird!!!

honestly anon, that's probably a good call. i'm personally still having a blast because i've gathered a nice little circle of mutuals and mutual-in-laws whose takes i trust and whose ofmd content isnt fucking abysmal. but even then i still see Incredibly Shitty Takes on the regular. even if i turned anon off i'd still see shit if i went into the tags (which i rarely do) or if i just. tagged a post with the character that post is about. it's fucking wild

you're completely correct tho. the amount of Missing The Point Of The Entire Goddamn Show that goes on in this fandom so that people can woobify their white fave is fucking exhausting. i don't blame you for not wanting to get involved

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 7 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: One phone call was never going to be enough for Bradley. Another opportunity falls into his lap, and he emails you right away to see if you can make a little time for him. When he shares a bit more with you than he bargained for, he's pleasantly surprised once again by how open and authentic you are.

Warnings: Fluff, language, Bradley being vulnerable

Length: 4300 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Bradley was never usually one to get lost in a daydream. He was exceptionally good at focusing on flying when he was in the air. If he had a task to complete on the ground, he always got it done. But when he spent the rest of his day after talking on the phone with you in his bunk, he wasn't focused on much except the sound of your voice. Then he dug out the pictures you'd mailed to him so he could see your face as well. The combination of everything about you was almost too much, and he didn't know how he'd manage in person.

He still had weeks of his deployment left, and he'd never wanted to get home so badly in his life. That first date was already set. He was annoyed he couldn't give you a firm idea on when it could happen, but you didn't seem to mind too much. In fact, you told him you'd be ready whenever he got back. And that you'd take him any way you could get him. Well, as long as you still wanted him next month, you could have him.

With a smile on his face, Bradley reached for the stack of letters from your class and took the time to judge the drawing contest. All he really did was award each kid their own unique superlative. The purple jet that he thought was Violet's won the 'I Wish the Navy Liked Colors' award. Jayden's drawing of the jet with the dog named Vanessa for a pilot won the 'She Probably Flies Better Than I Do' award. And the one that looked like a dragon won the 'Fanciest Scales' award.

He wrote on the back of each picture, chuckling the whole time. Then he got to the one you drew, and he noticed something he'd missed when he first opened the newest box from your class. Next to his name written on the side of the F/A-18, you'd drawn a little heart. He was all smiles as he flipped it over and started writing.

Hey, Gorgeous,

This one's my favorite, but don't tell the kiddos, okay? The little heart really sold it for me. I can't wait to see you.

Bradley

After he packaged everything up and dropped it off to be sent back to the states, he made his way to dinner. He ate his meatloaf alone once again, but he hadn't felt lonely in months. The adrenaline rush of the phone call was finally starting to wear off, but he felt warm all over. You'd be asleep now back in California, but maybe there was a chance you had in fact emailed him that selfie before you went to bed. And that is what once again lured him back to the lounge. You had a vise-like grip on every part of him, and he was itching to know exactly what you looked like tonight while he was talking to you.

Unsurprisingly, he had to wait a bit until there was a computer free that he could use. Sundays always seemed to be when the lounge was swamped, but he didn't mind. He just sat back and thought about the way you said his name. He could imagine you whispering it. He could even imagine you screaming it.

"Shit," he grunted, hopping up when it was finally his turn, and he logged into his email account to find that you wrote to him approximately fifteen minutes after the phone call ended. And when he opened your message, he leaned in a little closer to make sure nobody else around him could catch even a glimpse of the photos you attached.

His heart started beating in that same erratic way it had when he listened to you telling him you thought about kissing his scars. Not only had you emailed him a sweet looking selfie of you in bed wearing an oversized sweatshirt, you sent a second, decidedly spicier one, too. 

Bradley ran his hand over his mouth and mustache, trying not to groan as he quickly memorized every detail of that second photo. You'd removed that oversized sweatshirt and snuggled down under the soft looking sheet, and there was not a scrap of shirt fabric covering your arms or chest. Inch after glorious inch of the soft swell of your breasts was visible before the sheet forced him to imagine what the rest would look like. And he had a very vivid imagination.

When his hand dropped down to his side, he realized he was staring open mouthed at the photo. The little smirk you wore in it let him know you were absolutely intentional about this, and that was such a huge turn on for him. This is how you wanted him to see you. Fuck. He scrolled back up to the first photo where you were wearing your sweatshirt and a much more innocent smile, and he whispered, "Okay, Gorgeous. You've ruined me."

He realized as he scrolled all the way back up to your actual message that there were probably a lot of guys who got sent straight up pornography from their wives or girlfriends when they were deployed, but this had to be the hottest looking thing that ever graced his inbox. And you were still completely covered up. He shook his head to clear his mind as he started reading.

Bradley,

Thank you for the phone call. I'm sitting here kind of regrouping while the butterflies are still going crazy in my belly. I can't pinpoint exactly what it is with you that sets them off, but hearing your voice for twenty minutes straight has turned me into a boneless heap on my bed. I'm almost afraid of what might happen to me if you touch me.

It's gone. I deleted my profile and the entire dating app. I'm no longer looking for single guys with jobs who are between 30 and 40 years old. I'm just looking for a 36-year old Naval aviator who wants to take me to the beach in Coronado to watch the sunset with Thai food and Prosecco.

I hope you come home soon. Do you have any idea how much longer you'll be gone? Why isn't the Navy taking into consideration the fact that you and I have a date to go on? I'd just really like to see your face in person as soon as possible.

I'm attaching two photos, probably against my better judgement. Maybe it's just my excuse to get you to call me Gorgeous again. I can't wait to see you.

Your favorite pen pal

He wanted to wait until he had some gym selfies to send, but he couldn't leave you hanging. Not when those two, flawless photos caught his eye again. So he started typing up a response, and soon he found that he wanted to talk to you on the phone again badly enough that he was going to go back to one of the admirals to see if there was any way he could.

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

You had such a hard time falling asleep on Saturday night after talking to Bradley. It was like your body had accepted the inevitable before your brain had. You were completely enchanted by him, and the call made it so much worse. Hearing him call you Gorgeous through your phone speaker was almost more than you could handle. You were turned on and too warm, even without your sweatshirt. You couldn't believe you sent him that photo. You couldn't believe you trusted him enough to keep it private.

He probably dated women in the past who sent him things that were way more explicit than a selfie where they were covered up, but you were still a teacher who wanted to keep her job. You loved your class, and you knew nobody else could handle your kids as well as you could. But you wanted to give Bradley what you could for now.

It was the description of the perfect date and the promise that he'd kiss you as soon as he saw you that kept playing in your mind. And you let it keep playing on loop, because he lived in Coronado. And that's how you finally dozed off. When you woke up on Sunday morning, you had a brand new email in response to your selfies.

Gorgeous,

I'm thrilled to hear the app is gone. All of the other single guys aged thirty to forty are probably at home crying right now, and I can't blame them. I'll just sit here with a smug look on my face.

That phone call was one of the best of my life. The way you say my name is somehow better than I imagined it would sound, and I'd been spending a lot of my free time thinking about it. Hearing your voice and seeing you in these photos is a privilege. That second one had me staring with my mouth hanging open for a few minutes. I think I just about memorized it, but I'm going to check one more time before I log off. Okay, maybe two more times. As much as I love it, I don't want to feel pressured to send me things like that. But dear god, Gorgeous, I mean it when I say you take that word to a whole new level.

You don't need an excuse to get me to call you Gorgeous. Hopefully by next month, you'll be hearing it so much in person that you'll be sick of it. And it's not a matter of if I touch you, it's a matter of when.

As soon as I have a better idea of when I'll be back in San Diego, that information will be in your inbox immediately.

I can't wait to see you,

Bradley

You couldn't wait that long. You would never make it. Your sheets were brushing your bare skin as you thought about him calling you Gorgeous so many times that you got sick of it, but you knew that would never happen. You were going to need another hobby or maybe five to help you pass the time, but for now, you decided to work on your lesson plans for the coming week.

Your kids would probably be happy to learn that you were planning on extending your aviation lessons to the end of the school year. Or at least until Bradley got back. What you wouldn't give to have him visit your classroom. Just the idea of him standing in front of the board, maybe in his flight suit, left you light headed. You already knew your kids would be absolutely delighted to meet him after writing back and forth so many times.

After you managed to distract yourself for a full day, you were just getting into bed when you heard your phone ping with a notification. "Oh god," you groaned in pleasure. When you opened the new email from Bradley, you were met with the promised gym selfies. One was of his reflection which was taken in a long mirror that seemed to cover most of a wall. You could see some other people working out in the background, but front and center was Bradley curling a massive looking dumbbell in snug shorts and a shirt with the sleeves ripped off.

You dropped down onto your bed and zoomed in on his biceps. "Dear Lord." Your heart was hammering in your chest now. Did he not know what he looked like? Did he not know that his body was absolutely flawless? The second photo was even better. The half-smirk, half-smile and the peek of pretty, white teeth. The slightly messy hair. The chocolatey brown eyes. The scars with the beads of sweat running down them. "Unbelievable."

And then you read the short message.

Two gym selfies, as promised. You asked for a nice closeup of my face, and that's as good as it gets. Talk soon, Gorgeous.

You were still looking at the photos when you fell asleep.

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

Bradley shouldn't have been surprised that another mission was in the works. He'd been so caught up in you, he almost expected smooth sailing and a direct path back to San Diego so he could get on with his personal life. But no such luck. After several days holed up in planning sessions, the only real happiness he found was in each new email from you.

There was another class photo in one. There was a selfie of you at a Thai restaurant in another. And there were always a lot of fun details about your day, too. But it was the bits where you let him know you were thinking about him that made him a little weaker for you with every passing day. His favorite was when you told him you donated all of your DVDs of movies with spiders in them. He also loved it when you told him that your students wanted to meet him.

If he could just get back, you and he would be watching all the spider-less movies together, and he'd be more than happy to visit your classroom. But, fuck, this deployment was dragging. He was tired, but he wasn't sleeping well. And there seemed to be cabbage rolls every evening in the cafeteria. When he finally made it out on deck a few days before he was supposed to fly the mission, he ended up talking to Marty.

"You need a hand with that?" Bradley asked the mechanic as he worked on taking apart an engine.

"Sure, Lieutenant," Marty replied, handing Bradley some very greasy bolts and a wrench. "Just hang onto those for me."

Two minutes of watching him work, and Bradley wished he'd brought his phone with him to record a video for your class. "The kids would love this," he muttered, and Marty chuckled.

"You still sending stuff to that elementary class back in San Diego? The pen pals?"

"Yeah," Bradley replied. "I think I've kind of adopted them. Or maybe they've adopted me? Either way, I've been writing to them this entire deployment. And... you know how you asked me if I was dating a teacher a few months ago?"

Marty looked at him and laughed. "Let me guess. You fell for their teacher?"

He nodded and sighed when he thought about you. "Yeah... it's just been a lot of emails and letters and one phone call, but now I can't wait to get back home."

"Damn," Marty grunted as he removed another bolt. "Some guys have all the luck." Bradley ended up helping him lift some heavy parts from a crate as Marty told him, "I have a ten minute FaceTime call scheduled for later this week if you want to use it to talk to your new girlfriend again."

Bradley was ready to jump at the chance to see your face and hear your voice at the same time, but instead he said, "I can't take that from you, but thanks, man."

Marty shrugged. "I'll just end up talking to my sister again. You can have it."

Bradley stared at him for a few seconds. "Yeah? You're sure?"

"All yours."

Bradley stayed long enough to get the details and help Marty unload everything else he needed to finish his project, and then he got cleaned up and went to the lounge to email you. If you were able to talk to him over FaceTime, it would be everything he needed to get through this last flight mission and end his deployment on a high note.

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

"Lieutenant Bradshaw said my drawing is the funniest one!"

"Lieutenant Bradshaw likes the rooster beak I put on my jet!"

"Lieutenant Bradshaw said mine is the least realistic in a good way!"

You were trying not to laugh as you looked at each of the little messages Bradley wrote on the backs of the F/A-18 drawings. They were all somehow well thought out and personalized. It was as if he actually knew these kids. But you supposed that in a way, he did. You kept going back to your desk to look at the note on the back of your drawing.

Hey, Gorgeous,

This one's my favorite, but don't tell the kiddos, okay? The little heart really sold it for me. I can't wait to see you.

Bradley

Seeing him was all you could think about now. You were almost completely convinced that your feelings would translate well from virtual to personal interaction. How could they not? He was as sweet and sincere over the phone as he was through his writing.

When you checked your phone after your kids were dismissed for the day, you tapped on a new email from Bradley before you started packing your bag to head home.

Gorgeous, any chance you have ten minutes you're willing to spend on a FaceTime call? Tomorrow night around 8:00 for you?

You squeaked in delight at the mere thought of it. His face and his voice and his words and his attention all at the same time? Ten minutes of it?

Yes! I'll be ready!

Now you had to wait. You also had to get your friends to bump up the Friday night dinner reservation to 5:00. And you needed to make sure you looked nicer than you did when you were usually lounging at home in your oversized sweatshirt. 

So when Friday evening rolled around, and you barely made it home from dinner by 8:00, you were a little frazzled. You wanted to take the time to fix your makeup, and you wanted to change into a cuter shirt that your friends would have definitely called you out on if they saw you wearing it to dinner, but there was no time. Your phone was already ringing at 8:01.

This time, the butterflies erupted as soon as you accepted the call and saw Bradley sitting there in his flight suit with a hesitant smile on his face. He didn't even have to say a word to make you feel like you were going to float up to the ceiling even as you tried to sit down on your bed.

"Bradley," you breathed softly, and his smile grew exponentially. 

"Hey, Gorgeous."

You bit your lip as you took in all the details of his face on your tiny phone screen. His brown eyes were wide as he did the same to you, and you couldn't stop yourself before you said, "Hey, Handsome."

His cheeks immediately flushed with a pink tint, and he looked down at the table in front of him with a bashful smile. You wanted to climb through your phone to get to him, settle yourself down on his lap, and feel how rough his flight suit was against your hands. You wanted to tip his face up so he was looking at you again, and when he did that on his own, you almost screamed in delight at what he said next.

"Damn, Baby. You didn't need to get all dressed up just to talk to me. You look beautiful right now, but I'm also partial to your sweatshirt."

You looked down at yourself and then back at him with a little laugh. He was staring at you in awe as you said, "I always look like this."

"You always look like this? You always look this hot?" he asked, that little grin you liked so much dancing around his lips. "Seriously?"

"Well, I mean, I didn't do anything special. I wanted to, but I ran out of time, and I definitely didn't want to miss your call."

Your heart was thudding as he really scanned your face and let out a low whistle. "I guess I'll find out for myself soon enough. About two more weeks to go, and then I'll be home. I just got that information today."

"Two weeks!" you exclaimed, nearly dropping your phone. Images of beach sunsets and Bradley's big hand holding yours filled your mind. "That's better than I was hoping for!"

You watched him run his hand through his hair, almost like he was nervous now. "Same. So what do you say? Two Saturdays from now, as long as everything goes as planned, you want to go on that first date with me?"

"Yes, Bradley," you replied immediately. "If you want to spend your first day back on dry land with me, then that's absolutely what I want to do."

His voice was deep and raspy as he said, "Then it's a date." But his eyes still seemed uncertain, and you knew instinctively that there was more going on as he asked, "You think... maybe we could talk about date number two for a minute? I was thinking we would go out to a restaurant so I can prove to you that I clean up okay."

You had to press your lips together for a few seconds before you said, "I have no doubt in my mind that you'd look just as good in a tee shirt as you would in a tuxedo."

That made him laugh as he scratched along the stubble on his jaw. "Humor me, Gorgeous? We would end up going out on a second date, right?" he asked, and somehow you could tell that something else was on his mind. "Maybe we would even go on a third?"

"Would?" you asked softly. "Don't you mean will?"

"Shit, I'm sorry," he said, leaning in a little closer. "Yeah. We will."

You and he studied each other as you asked, "Is there something wrong?"

He leaned back in his seat, and your heart started beating a most uncomfortable rhythm. "Damn it," he muttered, closing his eyes briefly as he took a deep breath. "We only have a few minutes on here, and I'm fucking it up because I'm nervous." You noticed he was rubbing his palms along his thighs, and he looked you in the eye as he said, "I really like you. All I can think about is getting home and doing all the things I promised. I don't usually feel like I have anything special to look forward to in San Diego. Or at least I didn't before we started talking." He cleared his throat and added, "I'm flying a final mission here in a few hours. It's a sensitive one, and... I just wanted you to know that I'll be thinking about you until I have to put my head down and get to work."

"Oh," you gasped, suddenly more aware than ever that he had the kind of anxiety inducing, adrenaline spiking job you could only ever dream of. Your fourth grade classroom was tame by comparison. Your students were nothing compared to opposing fighter jets. His career was dangerous.

Tears filled your eyes as he groaned a little bit and whispered, "I'm sorry, Baby. I kind of killed the vibe."

"You didn't," you told him quickly, studying the concern written on his features. Then your voice got even softer as you asked, "How will I know you're okay?"

He cleared his throat and said, "Sometimes they close off communication as we get closer to port. Of course I'll email you if I can, otherwise I'll let you know when I'm back in San Diego." His brown eyes flicked to the side and then back to you. "I'm going to have to go in a minute here."

There were a lot of things you knew would have to be left unsaid for now, so you told him what you could. "I really like you, too," you promised him, and some of the worry melted away from his face. "And I'm thinking dinner at an Italian restaurant for our second date. That way you can get cleaned up nice, and I can wear a dress that I'll be stressing out about all night long. And you can tell me that I look gorgeous while my foot keeps intentionally bumping yours under the table." He was smiling now, so you decided to go for broke. "And you kind of promised me takeout on your couch with a spider-free movie. I was hoping you'd play a song on the piano for me. I was hoping to cover both of us with a blanket and kiss you senseless. How does that sound?" You were gripping your phone a little tighter, hoping you'd be able to hear his response before he said he had to go.

"That sounds perfect, Gorgeous," he said, looking a lot calmer now. "Let's do that."

"Please, be careful."

"I will."

And then he was gone.

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

Bradley needed to make it home, because he decidedly had a lot to do there. Nat was expecting not one, but two dinners out of him now. There were eighteen fourth graders he wanted to meet. And as he ended a FaceTime call with the woman of his dreams while she had tears in her eyes, he knew he wanted to go on those dates more than anything else. If he never got to meet you in person... well he couldn't even think about that right now. He was supposed to report to his jet on the main runway in an hour, but you kept popping up in every corner of his mind. You were more emotionally open with him over a ten minute call than Vanessa ever was.

"Bradshaw!" He turned to see a petty officer coming toward him with a box. "Last mail call."

"Thank you," he replied, already smiling as he recognized your handwriting. His nineteen pen pals were here to keep him company once again, and his heart swelled with something he didn't even want to try to identify at the moment. All he could do was drop the box off in his bunk and tell himself he'd open it when he got back after nightfall.

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

Vulnerable Bradley is nervous just thinking about what might happen. He's starting to feel like Gorgeous could be be the one waiting on the San Diego end of all of his deployments from now on, but he needs to get through the rest of this one first. Maybe they can meet in the next part? Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 8

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[vonne-inc]

product: yandere husband.

gender neutral reader. mainly fluff. yandere-ish (a little).

yandere husband, who met you a few months after your high-school graduation. being a barista at his parent's cafe and seeing you walk up to the counter. oh, how he immediately fell in love with you. he found you beautiful— no, more than beautiful; glorious, angelic, heavenly.. there were too many words to describe you. he knew you were perfect.

yandere husband, leaving his number on the receipt taped to your to-go drink. he watched as you glanced at the writing while walking out the door. your eyes met his, smiling as you held your phone in your palm. his heart raced with nervousness. his phone buzzed as it showed a text message from an unknown number. when he lifted his head, you were gone. he was happy, elated even.

yandere husband, at work or at home texted you any moment he could. he really liked you— you were just so fun and interesting! he couldn't get enough of you, and you could get enough of him.

yandere husband, after a few dates and flirty conversations, you started dating him. his obsessive and possessiveness didn't start until your first i love you's. only then did he realize that he needed your touch, your voice, your presence, all of you. he needed you, only you.

yandere husband, after two years of dating him, fully comfortable and accustomed to each other, he's asking if you'd ever want to get married. after months of talking and questions, hinting at the idea, he finally proposes. on one knee as you're in bed while the early sun shines through the curtains. it was a beautiful scene for your eyes.

yandere husband, who is smiling from ear to ear once you say yes, pulling you into a long, loving kiss. now he can plan his next moves to have you all for himself, forever.

yandere husband, smiling brightly as he watches you walking down the aisle. your attire fitting you perfectly, it was divine on you. he could feel himself falling in love with you all over again.

yandere husband, who said his vows, holding your hands as he repeated the rehearsed words he spent months on writing. there were too many things for him to say, words couldn't describe how you made him feel. the love you brought him were beyond description— you were ineffable, intangible, unutterable. he'd do anything for you; go through any suffering or pain for you. he'd even kill for you, if it came down to it. once he'd end his speech, kissing your knuckles, he'd listen to your vows with a loving smile.

yandere husband, as soon as he was able to, he pulled you in close as he cupped your cheek and kissed your lips. a short yet eternal kiss that made him feel like the luckiest man on earth. parting, he held his lips near your ear, whispering, "'til death do us part."

yandere husband, once the wedding was over, he carried you to your shared hotel suite. immediately climbing into bed with you, smiling widely as he peppers you in kisses. you stay in his arms during the night, comfortably sleeping in his embrace after the long and overdrawn day. he adores your sleeping figure, keeping himself as still as possible as to not wake you. oh, how he can't wait to spend the rest of forever with you. "you're mine and i'm yours, my love. forever and always."

[wheresarizona]

but I would die for you in secret

Part 2

summary: The relationship you have with Joel Miller is less complicated now that he’s going to tell Ellie that you’ve been secretly seeing each other for months. You thought their discussion would go well, but when you get home from work to a note on your front door from Joel that reads, ‘Come over, we need to talk,’ it has you immediately thinking the worst—up until he answers his door in nothing but a towel and drags you inside to fuck your brains out for the first time in his bed.

pairing: Joel Miller/f!reader

rating: E (18+!! No y/n, explicit smut, age gap (unspecified, reader is an adult), Possessive Joel Miller, Dominant Joel Miller, Joel Miller has a big dick, oral sex (m receiving), deepthroating (he tells you to choke on it (in a good way)), unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie, breeding kink, rough sex, dirty talk (so much), spit mention, biting, spanking, whatever the kink is where you’re turned on by good dads, Joel in just a towel, pregnancy discussion, fluff, the last 3k words in Ellie’s pov (truly delightful), Good Parent Joel Miller, Ellie giving Joel so much shit, Joel giving Ellie shit, Ellie and Joel having the best discussions, TLOU AU where Joel doesn’t lie to Ellie and they’re good when they get back to Jackson)

word count: 11.1k+

a/n: Yes, I did make my own gif because I was too lazy to try and hunt for it. I really, really wanted to write about what happened after the last chapter, and here we are. I think this will be the last one. Thank you to the love of my life @juletheghoul for betaing!

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!

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The sun hadn’t risen when Joel Miller left your bed this morning.

That's how it usually was, him coming and going in the dark so no one sees him leave his house to come to yours across the street—the nights you spend together are bathed in secrecy, the two of you inhabiting your own little world, confined to the space of your home.

Why the sneaking around?

He didn’t want his daughter, Ellie, to know of his relationship with you. Over the many months you’ve been together, he’s let you in on much of what she had gone through before they got to Jackson. You understood that he’s all she has, and he’s worried that if he started openly dating, she’d think she isn’t as important to him as before or feel like Joel’s abandoning her. That’s the main reason he didn't want her to know, but with how often he brings up you being so much younger than him, and all the times he’s said you should be with someone your own age, you felt that he’s also ashamed of how old you are.

At least, that’s what you thought until the night before when he revealed his feelings for you and told you he wasn’t ashamed of you or the large gap in your ages.

When this all began, Joel was clear that all he could give you was his body—he was emotionally unavailable because he was too focused on taking care of Ellie.

Amazing sex with no strings attached? You were okay with that.

Except it wasn’t something casual, and there were strings attached.

You don’t just occasionally hook up with Joel; no, he’s at your place most nights and some days without his daughter knowing. You also can’t go out with anyone else, not that you want to—he doesn’t share or like when other men are interested in you. You aren’t any better, hating when women flirt with him, especially his next-door neighbor Sandra, who refuses to acknowledge he doesn’t want her.

Why does she, specifically, annoy you so much?

Not only does she shamelessly flirt with Joel any chance she gets, but she also touches him, her hand always ending up on his arm that he shrugs off, making him growl at her not to touch him. Does she listen? No, she still does it every time she runs into him, and it pisses you off that she doesn’t respect his boundaries. Plus, there was an incident a couple of months after he moved to Jackson where she got him over to her house under the false pretense of needing something fixed and then basically jumped him—she kissed him without his permission and came onto him, which he was not into and had him leaving immediately. He can’t stand her, and he’s been very firm with her that he’s not interested. If what she does to Joel isn’t bad enough, she creeps the fuck out of Ellie, and that pisses you off even more. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve saved the kid from talking to her; the look on Ellie’s face that screams she wants to be anywhere other than with Sandra makes your hackles rise, and a need comes over you to get the girl out of there as quickly as possible.

Has anything ever happened between Joel and Sandra to make her delusional enough to think if she keeps harassing him and his daughter, he’ll eventually want to be with her?

From what you understand, Tommy and Maria tried to set them up when he first arrived, but he declined; it truly was a case of right place, wrong time. He was polite when he rejected her and explained that his daughter needed him and that he had zero interest in starting a relationship with someone. Back then, he was completely occupied with taking care of Ellie, and dating was out of the question; it didn’t even cross his mind or was something he wanted. He was content with his fresh start in Jackson, alone with his kid to help her heal.

Why did Joel accept your advances the first time you met?

Right place, right time.

Once you moved to town, the father and daughter were settled to the point that Ellie was doing great in adjusting to life in Wyoming, and Joel felt he could finally do something for himself; you were tempting enough that he wanted to be selfish. He liked that you didn’t reek of desperation or made him feel pressured, neither of you doing anything that made the other uncomfortable. Obviously, there was a mutual attraction between you two, and the flirting went both ways; his head was already leaning toward yours when you went in for the first kiss, which he happily reciprocated.

What it came down to was he trusted you, and you were willing to do things on his terms.

And, of course, as it usually happens, feelings did develop—as his kid got better and more comfortable with living in Jackson, Joel opened up to you little by little, offering a tiny bit more of himself with each passing day and your relationship became confusing; it wasn’t only sex anymore; hasn’t been just that for a while, and it took you both over eight months to admit you’re in love, and for Joel to decide it’s time to tell Ellie, so he could actually be with you out in the open.

So, he left your bed before the sun had risen in order to be home before she woke up—that way, she wouldn’t be confused by his absence. He also planned on talking to her about what was going on between you two.

There’s this ritual he does before he leaves each morning that you’ve chalked up to him being from a different time and big on manners; your two previous sexual partners were closer to your age and nowhere near as courteous as him.

The slightest sounds will wake you, a side effect of surviving, and the moment the mattress springs squeak as he gets up, hours before you need to, your consciousness is coming back to you to assess if there’s any danger. Your ears perk at the rustle of him dressing in the dark, and you’ve learned not to spook when the blankets are pulled up to cover your bare body that gets tucked in. The kiss pressed to your hair always makes you smile at the sweetness, and you expect the whispered goodbye he says before he goes.

This morning, you didn’t expect the added ‘Love you’ at the end, which had your eyes opening and hand shooting out from under the covers to grab his, tugging him toward you. He knew what you wanted, chuckling as he leaned down to kiss your lips. You told him you loved him, too, when he straightened and started to leave, and he stopped at the doorway to get one last look at you under the dim light filtering through the gaps in your curtains from the street lamp outside, then headed home.

It’s safe to say your morning started off pretty great, and even though you didn’t see Joel after he left, the rest of your day wasn’t half bad either; it took a little turn when you got back to your house after working your job teaching at the school to a note from him on your door that read:

Come over

We need to talk

A romantic partner saying you needed to talk was never good, and worry knotted up in your belly like a ball, thinking things with Ellie didn’t go well when he told her about your relationship, and now he’s going to break up with you.

The first time you stopped by his place, you’d made the mistake of knocking; he was home alone and hadn’t known you were at the door until you rang the doorbell. It was adorable how he’d been a little embarrassed he didn’t hear you and pointed at his right ear to explain he had hearing loss. From then on, you always made sure to ring the doorbell, and you did so again, standing on his porch in the freezing cold with your winter coat on and worrying your lip between your teeth.

There’s the faint sound of him yelling from inside, “One minute!” thinking he’s upstairs, which is confirmed when you hear his heavy footsteps coming down the stairs. The deadbolt clicks as it’s unlocked, and the door is cracked open; Joel’s face appears, the rest of his body hidden.

He looks relieved to see you, and that’s a good sign. “Thank Christ, it’s you,” he says, opening the door some more to take your hand pulling you inside. The front door gets slammed shut, and your back is suddenly pressed against it, a surprised sound leaving your throat when his mouth crashes into yours, kissing you hard.

This is an even better sign that everything is okay.

He’s never kissed you in his house before.

One of his big palms cradles your face, the other locking the deadbolt beside you before it glides up your jacket-covered front to squeeze your breast. Your lips part to allow his tongue to delve inside and tangle with your own, looping your arms around his neck automatically. This kiss has your brain fritzing out, unable to think about anything except how he’s claimed you with his lips and tongue so fiercely and possessively while his large body cages you in. It’s embarrassing how long it takes a coherent thought to come through, and when it does, you’re lightly pushing at his chest, the surprise of bare skin under your hand causing you to break your mouth away to look at his body immediately.

A disappointed noise comes from him, and your eyes go wide at what you see.

“You’re naked,” you whisper.

His hand lightly holds your throat as he starts kissing along your jaw. “I’m not naked—I’m wearin’ a towel.”

That’s true. The faded blue towel is wrapped tightly around his waist, stopping just before it reaches his knees. His upper body is entirely bare, with pink and silvery scars etched all over his skin. No matter how many times you see him naked, you’re always so surprised by his broadness—it’s not a trick of his clothing or lighting that makes him appear big; he is that big.

“Still pretty naked.” You remember the thought you had. “Is Ellie home?”

“No,” he says into your skin. “She’s with Cat—” Her best friend. “—and they’re meetin’ us for dinner later.” His mouth is at your ear, feeling his hot breath, and shivering when he rasps into it, “Now, stop worryin’ about her, and let me take you up to my room so I can finally fuck you in my bed—I’ve been dyin’ to break it in with you.”

The proposition makes your cunt clench, and you’re interested in seeing his bedroom—he’s never invited you upstairs.

“Is this why you really wanted me to come over, to christen your bed?”

He pulls back to meet your gaze. “Didn’t want to scandalize the neighbors by puttin’ it in writin’, but yes.” His eyes darken as he slowly unzips your coat. “You comin’ up with me?” His voice deepens, nudging his nose against yours. “Since you’re my guest, we’ll do whatever you want.”

Joel always considers what you want, but he also seems instinctively aware of what you need—that’s the great thing about being with someone so much older and experienced; he knows how to play your body and make you feel so good that you’re happy to go along for the incredible ride.

With him saying you’ll do whatever you want, he’s letting you call the shots.

Your eyebrow raises. “Anything?”

“Within reason.” He kisses your chin, your skin tingling under his lips.

“Is there anything we did last night that’s not within reason…?”

The previous night, you weren’t expecting to see Joel because he’d been taking care of a sick Ellie for the prior few days. When he arrived at your place unannounced, he found you trying to make yourself come on your fingers and ordered you to finish as he jerked off, watching you. Then he fucked your brains out until your limbs were jelly and surprised you by asking if he could come inside you—something he avoided in the past and had only accidentally happened a handful of times.

His head moves to look you in the eyes.

“No.” He shakes his head. “It’s all within reason.”

That sentence excites you. “Let’s go,” you say quickly. He chuckles and helps you remove your jacket, hanging it on the nearby coat rack, which only has a few other items.

He grabs your hand and leads you up the stairs, the third step from the top creaking loudly under each of your weights.

You’re not entirely sure what you’re expecting his bedroom to be like, but when you walk into it, you take a moment glancing around at everything; there’s his queen-sized bed that’s neatly made, he’s got a record player over in the corner with a stack of vinyl records next to it, a couple of landscape paintings of pastures decorate his walls, there’s a walk-in closet not even close to full of clothes, his own private bathroom, and on top of his dresser is a few framed photos—one of Ellie playing guitar, beside that, Joel and her standing next to each other laughing. The third has you walking over to pick it up.

“Joel?”

He’s shut the door, and his bare feet pad across the floor, moving toward you.

“Yeah?”

“If you didn’t want Ellie to know about us, why do you have a picture of me and her in your room?”

It was taken at the town party celebrating the harvest and shows Ellie sitting beside you at a table, leaning into you with her head against your shoulder as you both smile at the camera.

“She doesn’t come in here.”

He’s next to you, and you look over at him.

“But what if she had?”

“Wouldn’t have mattered.” He shrugs and takes the photo from you, setting it back down in its spot.

You turn to face him, crossing your arms over your chest, and his eyes lock onto your bosom.

“What do you mean it wouldn’t have mattered?”

It takes him too long to answer, and you realize he’s distracted, so you wave your hand in front of his face. “Focus, Joel.” His gaze goes to yours.

“What?”

“What do you mean it wouldn’t have mattered if Ellie saw the picture?”

“I mean, it wouldn’t have mattered; it wouldn’t have revealed anythin’ she didn’t already know.”

“How long?”

His face pinches in confusion. “Huh?”

“How long has she known about us?”

His hands sit on his hips, and his weight goes to one side, a crease appearing between his eyebrows.

“I don’t want you gettin’ mad at me when I tell you ‘cause I had no idea she was aware; if I’d known, it would’ve been made clear long ago to everyone you’re mine. Understood?”

It’s said with such conviction it leaves zero doubt that it’s the truth, and it feels like your skin is vibrating at the fact he’s really going to make sure all of Jackson knows that you’re together now.

You smile. “God, that’s hot—yes, I understand.”

“Good—she clocked us pretty much from the beginnin’.”

“Of course she did,” you reply. “I had a feeling she’s known for a while, but since the beginning? I am both impressed and very annoyed. Why didn’t she tell you she knew?”

He grimaces. “She thought it was a subject we avoided...” He scrubs a hand over his face and sighs. “I guess I’m cagey when Tess comes up, mostly ‘cause I don’t even know what that relationship was, and since I never said anythin’ about you, she figured we don’t talk about our romantic partners.”

Your eyes round. “Our? Is Ellie dating someone?”

His hand lowers, and he smiles, nodding. “She said I could tell you—Ellie’s way better at the secret girlfriend stuff than I am.”

“Cat?”

His eyebrows dip down. “How’d you know?”

“Ellie looks at Cat the same way you look at me.”

A long sigh leaves him. “So, it’s true.” He sounds defeated, his shoulders slumping.

“What’s true?”

“When she was pointin’ out how obvious we’ve been, she gave me shit for starin’ at you with, she called ‘em ‘googly eyes,’ whatever the fuck that means.”

You snort and step into his space, wrapping your arms around his neck, Joel’s hands holding your hips.

“It’s this way you look at me, and I couldn’t quite figure out what it was until you told me you loved me last night, and I realized it’s love; devotion—your eyes show the truth of what you’re feeling, and good news, babe.”

“What’s that?”

“You can give her shit for having googly eyes like her father.”

That seems to cheer him up, and honestly, it’s cute.

“She’s gonna hate knowin’ that—I can’t wait to tell her.”

You giggle. “So, Ellie’s really okay with us?”

“She is.” He nods.

“Good—this might sound weird.” You can’t look at him as you say this and focus on a patch of freckles on his shoulder, heat creeping up your neck. “But, um, you being a great dad and loving your kids so much—” He’s told you about Sarah. “—really does it for me. There’s something about it that’s incredibly attractive.”

“Yeah?” He ducks his head to press his lips over your pulse point, peppering kisses up your neck; his hand slides down between your legs where your warmth is felt through your jeans, rubbing over your sex. It makes you gulp, excitement sparking in your tummy.

“Yes.”

His mouth reaches your ear, tugging the lobe lightly between his teeth. His warm breath fans against your skin when he hovers his lips to whisper, “I think I know why.“

Your heartbeat thuds in your chest and pulses in your core to the same beat, feeling your need for him drip into your panties.

“W-why?”

He speaks in a huskier tone, “You know that havin’ my babies means they’d get a good father, and you have nothin’ to worry about when I fill your perfect little pussy with my come.”

Pleasure cuts through you sharp as a knife, and you moan.

“Yeah, I know you like it—is that what you want tonight, sweetheart? Want me to stuff you full?”

What he’s saying is making your skin so hot that your clothes are stifling, and you want him more than anything; you need him to ease the ache in your center.

“God, yes.”

“Then I’ll give it to you.”

You’re wondering what’s changed that suddenly has him unbothered about the possibility of getting you pregnant when he actively tried to prevent it previously—something you’ll have to inquire about later because it seems Joel’s had enough talking as his lips capture yours in a searing kiss, and he pulls your body flush against his.

It’s consuming and exhilarating.

No one has ever made you feel the way he does—the all-encompassing fiery passion that has arousal burning like an inferno in your belly, needing him so badly you think you might die if you don’t feel him inside you.

Wouldn’t that be a way to go? Dying of desperation from not getting Joel Miller’s dick—sounds kind of nice compared to the alternatives in today’s world.

You’ve also never been with someone his age.

There was this girl a little older than you that you met on your travels—you don’t find very many friendly people out in the wilds, and she joined you for maybe a week before she headed west toward Seattle. She told you one evening, as you sat by a fire under the stars together, that hands down, the best sex she ever had was with an older guy who was in his early thirties when the outbreak happened. She went on about how generous he was in actually making her come and that he knew exactly what to do; the entire experience was apparently life-changing. She swore she’d never get with anyone younger again, and you were intrigued.

When you asked her if it was weird fucking a guy old enough to be her father, she gave you a funny look, and you’ll never forget what she said:

“Ain’t nothing weird about two consenting adults having a good time.”

She had a point.

When Joel showed up at your door looking so incredibly handsome soon after you moved to Jackson, the conversation with that girl came to mind, and you decided to see if she was right, and dear god, this man in his late fifties has ruined you for anyone else—he was the first person to go down on you, he was the first person other than yourself to get you off, he was the first person to come inside you; the last one was an accident and it shocked you how much the risk turned you on.

You can’t imagine being with anyone else after him.

The kissing heats up, practically all tongues at this point, Joel’s straining cock beneath the towel pressing against you, and it’s always incredibly sexy the way he knows just what you need without you having to say a word—in less than a minute, he's stripped you of all your clothes, and has you on your back in the middle of his mattress, Joel on his knees between your spread legs, and leaning down, with your pebbled nipple sucked between his lips.

He has both of your breasts in his hands while he laves at one and then the other, the nibble of his teeth on the sensitive buds causing your pussy to weep for him, your fingers clutched in his damp, grey hair.

"Oh my god, Joel," you moan.

He loves worshipping your tits, and if you let him, he’ll play with them for hours; the problem is today, you’re on a time crunch since you have dinner plans, and you want a chance to make him feel good, too.

Your hands tug on his messy waves to get his attention, saying, "Let me suck your dick."

His head lifts, and you're met with dark eyes, his lips shiny with spit. The cool air hitting your wet skin causes goosebumps to rise.

"You want my dick in your mouth?" he asks.

“Yes, please.”

“Okay.” He grunts as he pushes himself up to kneel. He’s still wearing the towel, which is tenting in the front.

You eagerly sit up and get on your knees, shuffling toward him, and when you’re close enough, he can’t seem to help himself, his palms holding your face as he passionately kisses you. Your hands snake between your bodies to unwrap the towel around his waist, tossing it to the side without a care, and you wrap your fingers around his length that’s hard as steel and velvety smooth, feeling hot to the touch.

He nips at your bottom lip when he ends the kiss, and without another word, you’re moving back enough to get on all fours, holding your weight on one arm while your other hand grips around the base of him, and then he’s in your mouth—his girth has you opening as wide as you can, your lips stretching to their limit. He’s heavy on your tongue, taking more and more of him as you bob your head.

“That’s it, baby,” he groans. “Fuckin’ love that mouth of yours.”

Saliva is dribbling down his shaft, lubricating every stroke of your palm over what can’t fit in your mouth, his large hand guiding your head up and down his dick.

“Spit on it,” he commands. You hover your lips over him, gathering saliva on your tongue, and looking up at him through your lashes as you let it drip onto the tip of him—his pupils are blown so wide, there’s hardly any brown remaining, a gorgeous pink flush crawling up his chest and neck to paint his stubbled cheeks.

He’s watching you, his chest rumbling when you take him back into your mouth and fondle his sack in your palm.

When you first met, you were pretty inexperienced when it came to sex—you’d only slept with two men, and it hadn’t been very pleasurable on either occasion. Then Joel came along and showed you how good it could be and let you experiment to figure out what you did and didn’t enjoy. He also walked you through what he liked, which is why you know how he’s going to respond as you suck him off and gently tug on his balls. “Fuucckk,” he says in a drawn-out moan, and it has electricity dancing down your spine that you’re making him feel so good.

You go back to jerking him, your hand moving easily, twisting on the upstroke along his spit-slick cock, while bobbing your head, feeling him slide along the broad flat of your tongue to hit the back of your throat—you’re making appreciative noises that vibrate against his skin, loving him in your mouth, and how vocal he is in his enjoyment, Joel groaning, his breaths getting heavier, and slowly thrusting his hips.

You come off of him, licking a stripe from root to tip, tracing a bulging vein with your tongue, and circling the sensitive edges of the head. His cock throbs in your hand as you hold it out of the way to go lower and suck one of his balls into your mouth, massaging it with your tongue before giving the second the same treatment.

His voice is a deep baritone, the words thick with desire. “You’re so fuckin’ good to me.”

Licking back up, you swirl around the tip and sink down again, hollowing your cheeks.

His hand easily covers yours low on his shaft to keep it and himself still, his other palm going to the back of your head. “Choke on it, baby—take it down that pretty throat.”

This time when he fills your mouth and hits the back of your throat, you relax, swallowing around him, taking as much of him into the tight space as you can, and there’s enough of him that won’t fit for your fingers to wrap around—his other hand clutches your hair as he keeps your head from moving, your eyes watering, drool spilling from the corners of your lips, while his hard cock fills your throat. You’re doing the best you can to breathe through your nose.

He’s panting. “That’s fuckin’ it—so fuckin’ beautiful with my dick down your throat.” His fingers go around your neck to feel it bulge. “You love havin' my cock fillin' you, don’t you? Your pussy, your throat, you're hungry for it and can't get enough 'cause no one can make you feel as good as I do, isn’t that right?” You moan in agreement, his shaft pulsing on the flat of your tongue. “God, you make the prettiest noises for me.”

You swallow around him, and his punched-out groan has your cunt clenching hard on nothing, a layer of slick coating your inner thighs.

“Stop,” he orders, pulling you off of him and causing you to sputter. “I’m not comin’ in your mouth.”

The statement has a sharp spike of arousal erupting low in your stomach because you know this means he’s going to finish inside you, and it has you wanting him with every fiber of your being.

He gets you up on your knees, holding your chin as he smashes his lips to yours, his tongue slipping inside where he sucks on your own. Your heart is hammering in your chest, moaning as the fingers of his free hand pinch and roll your stiff nipple, and you’re trying to convince your lungs that you’ll be okay without oxygen for another minute when his mouth suddenly leaves yours. Your chin is still cradled in his palm, Joel’s breaths coming out hard as he shoves his face against the side of yours and lightly bites the apple of your cheek before his lips are at your ear.

The sides of your faces are touching, his stubble prickling against your skin. “Now what?” he asks. Anticipation has you practically vibrating. “You got to suck my dick, what do you want now? You’re in charge—my fingers? Want me to eat your pussy? Or my cock without me loosenin’ you up so you’ll feel it tomorrow?” He smacks your ass with his other palm, and you gasp. “Tell me.”

Joel is very well-endowed, especially in terms of girth, and he’s aware of this fact; unless you tell him not to, he always gets you off before he fucks you, so it relaxes your muscles and makes it easier to take him. Right now, you need him inside you too much to have the patience for any more foreplay, so be it if you’re a little uncomfortable tomorrow.

You swallow before you answer. “Dick, please.”

“How do you want it?”

“Your choice.”

“You got it, baby.”

He grabs a handful of your asscheek, then gives it a spank and kisses your cheek, letting go of your chin to slide his fingers through the slick lips of your sex, his face coming into your line of sight.

It’s clear in his darkened eyes how much he wants you.

“You get so fuckin’ wet for me,” he says and presses two thick fingers inside you, your mouth falling open when he starts pumping. The tips press into something magical you can never reach, no matter how many times you try. “This needy pussy can’t get enough of my dick,” he continues. “You want it? Want me to stretch you open? Make you feel it tomorrow and come so deep in your sweet little cunt I’m drippin’ from you for days?”

He has you feeling so hot you think you might combust.

“Yes.”

A quick kiss is pressed to your lips. “Hands and knees,” he orders, slipping his fingers out of you.

His way of helping you get into position is manhandling you until your hands and knees sink into the mattress with him behind you—he fucked you hard face down, ass up the night before, and you’re wondering if he’s going to give you an encore.

His fingers dig into your asscheeks as he spreads them and spits on your pussy, feeling the hot saliva start to drip, and hearing him repeat the action on his digits, that he uses to wet his cock. Joel slides himself through your folds and presses to your entrance, your hips pushing back enough to engulf the tip of him—a palm lands on your ass with a loud smack, the sting causing your head to fall forward between your shoulders with a moan, his other hand firm on your waist to stop your movements.

“Don’t be greedy,” he grumbles, slapping your ass again. “I gotta go slow so I don’t hurt you.”

You whine because you want him inside you already.

“You’re real fuckin’ needy today,” he says and slowly begins pushing in. There’s a slight burn as your tight walls stretch around him to accommodate his size, the ache in your core dissipating with every inch he feeds into your pussy. “Jesus Christ,” his tone is strained. “You’re so much tighter when I don’t make you come first—you’re chokin’ me.” Your fingers are clawing at the bedspread, your heart’s pounding, and sweat is starting to bead on your skin. There’s one word repeating over and over in your head: Big.

He takes his time; the seconds that tick by feel like hours, and once he’s fully sheathed inside you, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding in—the familiar fullness satisfies the overwhelming need you had and has something purring in the back of your mind that this is right; it’s perfect how he fills you. He was right; there’s no one else on the entire planet who could satisfy you like he does.

His large palm slides halfway up your spine. “You’re doin’ great for me, baby,” he rasps. “Takin’ me so well. Now, I’m gonna make you feel good.”

And the fact you know he is has your cunt throbbing incessantly around him.

His hands hold your waist, and he does an experimental thrust, your answering moan encouraging him to start moving—he’s slow at first, rocking his hips and letting you feel every ridge and vein on his thick cock as it moves in and out of you.

He’s pressing into heavenly spots you didn’t know existed before him, loving how deep in your depths he reaches. The waves of arousal he’s coaxing from you is soaking his dick and easing his movements.

“God, I love bein’ inside you,” he says and slaps your ass; you clamp down on him, and he groans. “You feel so damn good—fit me like a fuckin’ glove.”

You fuck yourself back on him as you whine, “It’s yours!”

He grits through his teeth, “Yes. It. Is.” Punctuating each word with a hard thrust that knocks the wind from your lungs. “It’s. Mine. You’re mine.”

His rhythm speeds up, a steady slap of his hips against yours that echoes in the room, Joel grunting with each stroke and your moans coming unbidden. Your ass is jiggling from the onslaught, your head is dizzy with pleasure, and heat is growing at the base of your spine, threatening to explode.

This is how you like it, getting fucked senseless.

You squeak in surprise when gun-calloused fingers grip your upper arms at the bend of your elbows and pull you up, making you arch your back, Joel tugging you back each time he thrusts forward, pounding into you hard enough your eyes roll back in your head, and your mouth opens in a silent cry—his rough sounds are slipping through his bared teeth and obscene squelching is coming from where he’s fucking into you at an unforgiving pace.

You’re quivering around him, your entire body shaking, quaking, as he pummels a spot that’s making stars dance behind your eyelids, the muscles in your belly tightening, winding, building you up higher and higher. Your skin is hot and buzzing like every nerve in your body is lit up, a thin layer of sweat coating the entirety of it.

His breathing is ragged, and he grits out the question, “Are you gonna come for me?” He doesn’t slow down. “I can feel you squeezin’ me—I know you’re close.”

His hands have an iron grip on you. Noise finally leaves your lips in stuttered moans, and you’re losing your mind at how fucking good it feels—you’re not going to last much longer.

“Once you go,” he says, “you’re takin’ me with you, and I’m fillin’ you up.”

The reminder has white-hot pleasure scorching in your abdomen, and you’re coming undone, shouting his name as your climax hits and euphoria takes over every molecule in your body.

A choked sound comes from behind you, and you get pulled back flush to him, Joel’s arm locking over your chest with his hand squeezing one of your tits while the other wraps around your throat, his lips pressing to your ear as he raggedly groans “There we fuckin’ go.” His teeth sink into your earlobe as his hips stutter, and he buries himself one last time as far as he can in your depths, whining as he comes—his cock pulses and twitches hard as he releases deep inside you, spurts and spurts of his come filling your inner walls.

There’s a chance you’ve left Earth with how you feel like you’re floating, your brain completely empty of thoughts—you’re not sure you could think if you even tried, let alone move.

You register being laid down on your side and the warm body curling around your back; an arm is over your middle, and your breast is being held in a large palm, feeling so relaxed you think you might fall asleep.

A minute passes.

Five.

Ten.

There’s a loud snore behind you.

“Joel?” It’s embarrassing how it comes out as a croak.

No response—of course, there’s no response, his left ear is pressed to the mattress, and he can barely hear out of the right. You rub your hand along his arm and lightly tap it.

He goes eerily quiet, and you know he’s awoken, but he’s taking a second to assess where he is. Joel sits up a little. “Somethin’ wrong, honey?”

Your torso slightly twists toward him, looking over your shoulder. His eyes are filled with concern when they meet yours.

“Nothing’s wrong,” you reassure him and pat his forearm. “You fell asleep, and we can’t be late meeting Ellie. Otherwise, she’ll come looking for us, and we don’t need to scar the poor girl with her finding out her dad has a very active sex life.”

He snorts, his lips turning up. “She’s not dumb—she knows why I’m at your place every night.”

“She assumes the reason you come over—it’s one thing to assume and another to know for sure, and the second one, when it happens, will probably make her puke and then look at you with disgust for a while.”

He frowns, and you can tell he’s thinking hard. “I never brought women around Sarah…” he says. “I mean, when she was older, she knew, on the incredibly rare occasions I did, that I was goin’ on dates, but that was all. I never had long-term girlfriends.”

That’s something you’re aware of. He’s told you about some of his previous relationships, including Tess. When he was younger, before the world ended, he only had a few girlfriends that didn’t last long and a lot of one-night stands; Sarah’s mom was a fling in his early twenties who disappeared as soon as their daughter was born—she didn’t want to be a mother at such a young age, and only had the baby because she couldn’t stand the guilt of the alternative.

“Oh, so Ellie knowing me and being aware we’re together is new territory for you. How does that make you feel?”

“Real fuckin’ lucky I found someone she likes and who understands that she’s my top priority—the other women I dated couldn’t stand playin’ second fiddle to Sarah even though I was always upfront that she came first before anyone else, the same thing I told you from the get-go about Ellie.”

“And that makes complete sense to me. I know I’m important to you, but it’s different; she’s your child, who you’re responsible for, so she takes precedence. After all the shit she’s been through, it’s great she found a father who loves and cares about her so much.”

He smiles. “And that’s one of the reasons I fell in love with you—you get it and were more than willin’ to be with me in secret to protect her.”

You smirk. “True, it didn’t hurt that the sex is fucking spectacular, too.”

He chuckles, and you find yourself on your back with him half on top of you, happily kissing you.

Your words are muffled against his lips. “I need to ask you something.”

There’s one last kiss, then his pretty face hovers over yours.

“What do you wanna ask that’s more important than me kissin’ you?”

“Something that I need to know after everything that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours.”

His mouth downturns, and his eyebrows furrow. “Is somethin’ wrong…?”

“No, no, everything’s great,” you tell him and slide your fingers through the curls above his ears. “Has your feelings on children changed? Like, in terms of having more…?”

From the beginning, he was clear that he didn’t want any more kids, and it stressed him out whenever he accidentally finished inside you; you’d think that would put him off sleeping with you again, but he couldn’t stay away, and told you, when asked what would happen if you got pregnant, that you’d figure it out and you didn’t need to worry about him abandoning you—the last part always made you wonder how he’d be involved in your baby’s life with Ellie unaware you were together, and the only thing you could imagine was out in public, Joel taking on the role of your close friend your child calls their uncle, which is pretty depressing to think about.

He’s got an arm beside your head, holding himself up, and his other palm strokes along your cheek, his eyes softening.

“A lot has changed since I met you—you’ve turned my world on its head, sweetheart.” He smiles. “I know I swore I’d never bring another life into this world after losin’ Sarah, but Ellie came along, and I love gettin’ to be a dad again.” The fond look on his face is proof of that. “I really do. She’s a pain in my ass, but I love her, and now that we’re done hidin’ and can finally have a life with everyone knowin’ we’re together, there won’t be any doubt that it’s my baby if you got pregnant.”

Something about that excites you that he wants it to be clear he’s the father of your kid—for a second, you imagine what a child with him would look like, and it makes your heart squeeze at the thought of seeing tiny versions of his eyes and cheeks; would they inherit his elusive dimple?

“I know I’m too fuckin’ old to be takin’ care of a newborn,” he continues, “but I like the idea of havin’ one with you, and I think you’d love it. You’re so good with Ellie and all those little kids you teach. I can tell you want one of your own, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

He smiles.

“Yeah, you do. You’d be a great mom. When I realized I was gonna talk to Ellie the other day and tell her about us, I thought this was somethin’ I could give you; it’s some kind of future, maybe not what you deserve, but it’s what I can offer. And it’s reassurin’ you’re gonna live a helluva lot longer than I will, so I know that if anythin’ happens to me, my children will still have their mother, along with Ellie, who I think would love bein’ a sister. So, to answer your question, yes, my feelings on havin’ more children has changed, but only with you—you’re the only woman I’d want to have a baby with.”

This revelation has you beyond excited—you’d love to have a child with him.

“It’s crazy that yesterday I didn’t know how to define what our relationship was—I knew I loved you, I just wasn’t sure if you felt the same, and today, we’re officially a couple and talking about having babies. At this rate, I’ll be moving in with you tomorrow.”

“Do you wanna?” he asks, looking completely serious.

Your eyes widen as you stare. “What? I was joking, Joel.”

“And I’m not jokin’, especially about havin’ you here all the time. I don’t want us livin’ separately if we do the baby thing, and you know I’m almost done remodelin’ the garage out back into an apartment for Ellie.”

Joel was pretty upset the night he came over after Ellie asked about having her own living space. It happened two or three months into seeing each other, and he’d been distraught that she was at an age where she wanted more independence and didn’t want to spend as much time with him now that she had friends—something else he never got to experience with Sarah and it really twisted the knife in his gut. There was no way the town council would give a teenager a house, so Joel agreed to convert the garage into an apartment for her.

“Are we moving too fast?” you ask.

When you say out loud everything that’s happened in the last day and your plans for the near future, it sounds like you’re moving too fast, but it doesn’t feel that way.

His eyebrow rose. “Baby, we could die tomorrow. Life these days is too fuckin’ uncertain to be worryin’ about movin’ too fast, and we should do what makes us happy.”

He’s right, and it isn’t a bad idea…

“I’ll only agree to move in if Ellie says it’s okay.”

Your response has Joel chuckling as he kisses you.

“Wait, I have another question,” your words are said into his lips.

His mouth breaks away from yours as he sighs and presses his forehead to yours.

“I love you more than anythin’, but can I please kiss you without interruptions?”

“If you answer this question, we can make out—with tongue.”

His head lifts, and he looks confused. “It’s not makin’ out if there isn’t tongue.”

“Do you wanna make out or not?”

His expression turns grumpy. “Yes, so ask your damn question.”

“What would you have done if you opened the door in just your towel, and it was Sandra instead of me?”

“I would’ve shut the fuckin’ door—now kiss me. I was promised tongue.”

Snow.

So much fucking snow.

Ellie hated winter in Boston, but Jackson? It’s a new kind of hell with how much of the freezing, white bullshit falls from the sky to blanket everything. On the days when she’s assigned the job of shoveling walkways down the main streets of the town, she wishes the bite on her arm had done her in—a dark thought, yes, but that’s how much she despises doing it.

The only positive thing about getting sick was not having to work; the biggest negative was Joel and how he was worrying so much he wouldn’t leave her the fuck alone. Yeah, it’s sweet, or whatever, that he cares so much, but this guy literally watched her sleep—he sat at the window seat in her room every night to keep an eye on her, and if she woke up, which happened a lot from the coughing, he was there at the side of her bed asking if she needed anything, and touching her forehead to check her temperature.

Thank god, his secret girlfriend came by when she did because Ellie was so close to stabbing him if he asked her how she was feeling one more time; her friends kept her sane the next day when they checked in on her, and luckily, by then she was pretty much over her sickness, and Joel had finally started to chill the fuck out.

That night, she thankfully got to sleep alone in her room, and it wasn’t surprising when she heard the third step down the staircase loudly creak—she’d tried everything, and there was no way to step on it without it making noise—a sign Joel was going across the street.

Oh, Ellie figured out something was going on between Joel and their across-the-street neighbor not too long after she moved in.

What tipped Ellie off was one day she was walking home after work and had almost arrived at their house when she saw the two of them chatting at her and Joel’s front door. Nothing fishy about that, right? Wrong. Joel was smiling as he spoke to the woman, and it wasn’t one of his fake, polite smiles he does when he’s trying to make himself look less scary and somewhat approachable; no, this was a genuine smile, with some teeth showing, and a rare sighting of the dimple in his cheek—it makes her gag to even think this, but she’d call the smile, charming.

Yuck.

Who wants to think about the guy that’s basically their dad trying to charm someone?

Disgusting.

If the smile wasn’t suspicious enough, the moment he spotted Ellie, it suddenly disappeared—why wouldn't Joel want her seeing him being so friendly with the new neighbor? Probably because he was hiding something; she’ll admit it also could’ve been so she didn’t tease him about having a crush, but the thing is, she wouldn’t have, which is really fucking surprising with how much shit she gives him.

See, she’s not stupid; she knows Joel’s made taking care of her his life’s purpose since they left Boston and that he loves her as if she were his own kid; not to get mushy, but she loves the grumpy fucker, too, and she wants him to be happy, like she is—he’s the reason her life is so good now, and it was time that he did something that’d make him happy. So, Ellie isn’t going to be a dick about him putting himself out there because she doesn’t want to discourage him.

Once Ellie was onto them, it was so freaking obvious that they were a thing—anytime they ran into the neighbor, Joel actually talked to her, instead of his usual one to two-word responses, he gave everyone else who wasn’t Ellie or Tommy. Joel always watched her if she was nearby and went over to her house the moment she asked him to fix something or help her—Ellie’s pretty sure a lot of the tasks were bullshit, and it was their excuse to see each other. Then there’s the damning evidence of Joel sneaking out almost every night; there was a night she got to a window in time to see him sticking to the shadows as he made his way across the street, and it confirmed everything.

He was pretty hush about his relationship with Tess—they’ve discussed her in general, and Ellie knows they had some kind of relationship; she’s just not sure if they were, you know, dating or in love. So, with Joel keeping quiet about what he’s got going on with their young neighbor, Ellie assumed he was just a private guy when it came to that stuff, and it was something they didn’t talk about, figuring if things got serious enough, he’d bring it up.

And hey, she’s hinted that she knows by inviting his secret girlfriend to eat and do stuff with them; Ellie’s even attempted to get the older woman to admit they’re together, but she wouldn’t break, no matter how hard the teen tried.

Then Ellie accidentally overslept at her girlfriend’s this morning and didn’t make it home before Joel, and now they’re both aware of the other’s love life. She won’t lie; it made her unbelievably happy that he didn’t give a single fuck she was dating a girl—he had more of a reaction to her getting a tattoo than her telling him she had a girlfriend, and she’s glad he didn’t make a big deal about it, not that she thought for a minute he wouldn’t be cool with her being with a lady since he was chill when she told him she didn’t like boys not too long after they got to Jackson; plus, the guy was really good friends with Bill and Frank, after all—he’s told her he’s glad she never got a chance to meet Bill because apparently, they would’ve caused a lot of trouble together and possibly taken over the world, which sounded pretty fucking great to her.

The snow crunches under her boots as she walks down the road on their way to the mess hall, her girlfriend, Cat, beside her, chatting about their days. Since she recovered from being sick yesterday, she had to go back to work today, and thankfully, she was assigned an easy job—animal feeding duty, which is both easy and fun.

“Shit, it’s Sandra!” Ellie hisses, grabbing Cat’s hand, “Hide!” She tugs the other girl behind a giant snow-covered bush. She peeks around it, seeing the bane of her and Joel’s existence walking up the street from the opposite direction, probably heading to the mess hall for dinner, too. The other woman is pretty far away, but Ellie doesn’t want to risk her seeing them.

“Why do we avoid Sandra again?” her girlfriend asks.

Ellie’s head turns her way; Cat’s wearing a purple beanie and an oversized navy blue coat, her dark eyes meeting Ellie’s. “God, where to start,” she says and takes a deep breath. “So, when we first moved here, Tommy and Maria tried to get Joel to go out with Sandra since they thought she was a great match for him—she’s also from Texas, pretty, widowed, and has no kids. Anyways, they tried to set them up, but Joel didn’t want to go out with her or anyone else. He was super polite when he turned her down. I guess Sandra took that as him playing hard to get, and she hasn’t left him alone since.”

“So, you avoid her, too…?”

“Oh, right—she wants to be my mom.”

“What…?”

“Yeah, every time she talks to me alone, she likes to bring up how I could use a mom, or wouldn’t it be great if I had one to take care of me and my dad—” Ellie makes a face. “—it’s always so fucking weird calling Joel that out loud.” He pretty much is her dad and she won’t correct anyone who refers to him as such, but to her, he’s Joel. “I think when she says that creepy stuff, she’s trying to get me to convince Joel to date her, but we both agree she’s nuts. Like, I overheard Joel talking to Tommy once, and apparently, some months after we got here, she came over to our house and asked if he could fix something at hers, and he went because Joel might be a bit of a grumpy dick, he’s still a good guy, and she kissed him and was all over him—you get the picture—and he got the fuck out of there, and isn’t as polite when he tells her to leave him alone now.”

“He’s made it clear he’s not interested, and she still won’t get the hint…? Does she know there are other single men in town…?”

“She only has eyes for Joel. I don’t think she’s used to men rejecting her, so now it’s her goal to get him. I mean, she’s persistent. If she sees me or him together or separately, she always talks to us; it’s awkward, and I have to tell you it’s disturbing watching someone flirt with Joel so hard—she’s not subtle at all. It’s honestly weird, and Joel is completely over it. I just don’t get why so many women in this town are into his old ass.”

Ellie has witnessed many women shoot their shots with Joel and get turned down, which is another thing that gave him and his girlfriend away—they never openly flirted, but there is a lot of friendly touching, which is out of character for Joel. The first time Ellie saw Joel open a door and guide the other woman inside with a hand on her back, she had to bite her tongue to stop herself from yelling, ‘Aha!’

“It makes no sense to me,” she continues. “This dude’s old enough to be my grandpa, he’s only got one good ear, he’s weird looking, and after a few days not showering, his feet smell so fucking bad you’ll want to chop your nose off—I swear the only reason we didn’t run into more infected while traveling is because Joel’s disgusting stench scared them away.”

Cat snorts. “You’ve mentioned how bad he smelled a lot.”

“Yeah, well, I can’t un-smell him, and it fucking haunts me.” She shudders. “Now, back on topic, Sandra creeps Joel and me the fuck out, and I’m positive his secret girlfriend would’ve murdered her by now if she wasn’t a secret.”

“Hopefully, Sandra will back off now that Joel’s relationship is no longer a secret.”

“That’d be so nice, but I’m not getting my hopes up.”

“I know you’ve never said anything, but does it bother you how young his girlfriend is?”

Ellie’s eyebrows furrow. “Why would it bother me?” she asks. “She’s an adult and can do whatever she fucking wants. I mean, I don’t understand why she’d willingly choose to be with such an old, ugly, grumpy man, but that’s her deal, and she’s pretty cool. I’m just glad Joel got with someone I like and get along with.” A horrible thought comes to her. “God, imagine if he had started dating Sandra, and I had to pretend to like her and not be weirded out by her trying to be my mom? Yeah, who gives a fuck that his girlfriend is closer to my age than his, she’s not weird and makes him happy, and that’s all that matters.” Something pops up in her brain, and she smiles. “Oh my god, Cat—” She grabs the other girl’s arm and shakes it in excitement. “—what if they had a kid? I could be a sister!” That’d be amazing. She’s always wanted a sibling. Her hands go still, and her eyebrows pull together; she’s lost feeling in the tip of her nose with how cold it is. “Wait,” she starts, “is Joel too old to have a baby? Like, I mean his stuff—” She gags. “—you know what I’m talking about. Does it go bad with age? He’s really fucking old.” Cat’s trying hard not to laugh, her gloved palm over her mouth, and Ellie shoves a finger at her. “Don’t make fun of me for not knowing! What I learned in school was pretty basic, so I know how babies are made—revolting, by the way—there’s just a lot of shit they didn’t explain in detail, and don’t get me started on the awkward as fuck conversation Joel tried to have with me when I started hanging out with Dina and Jesse.” Jesse was the first boy her age she befriended in Jackson.

“The one where in the middle of him telling you boys will say anything to get into your pants, you shouted that you didn’t like boys?”

“Ugh, yes, and then he asked me if I liked girls, and I wasn’t completely sure, so I answered maybe, and he said—” She lowers her voice to try and mimic his. “‘Well, shit, I don’t know what the sex talk is for my daughter likin’ girls’—” She spoke normally again, “You know what, I’m actually impressed with what he pulled out of his ass.” He ensured she really understood what consent is and walked her through what a healthy relationship is supposed to look like.

“To answer your question, Joel isn’t too old to have a kid.”

Ellie grins. “Wicked.” She looks around the bush to check if the coast is clear. “Looks like she’s gone. Let’s get out of here.”

When they get to the mess hall, the mood is… weird.

There’s a lot of whispering and people sneaking looks in the same direction. It only takes her a second to figure out what’s stealing everyone’s attention, and her nose crinkles at the sight.

“Cat?” She’s still staring, the other girl standing beside her.

“Yeah?”

“Am I seeing things, or is Joel really playing tonsil hockey with his not-so-secret girlfriend at our table?”

“Um, I can’t tell if they’re using tongue, but they’re definitely kissing.”

That’s obvious—the man and woman are sitting next to each other on one side of the table with their coats off, their upper bodies turned toward one another, and faces mashed together, Joel’s massive hand holding the side of her head.

“It’s weird feeling both happy for him and wanting to puke simultaneously.”

“I get it. Wanna see something that will make you feel better?”

She glances at her. “What is it?”

Cat nods her head toward a table. “Look.”

Her attention goes to where she indicated, finding Sandra clearly pissed off and glaring daggers at the couple making out, her hand clutching a fork so tight her knuckles are white.

Ellie is delighted and pulls Cat along to join Joel and his girlfriend.

“Please tell me,” she says, as they get to the table and start removing their gloves and jackets, “that you guys are being disgusting right now for the audience and that this won’t be a regular thing.”

Their mouths detach, Joel’s arm around the woman’s back while resting his other hand on the tabletop. There were trays of food for all four of them at each of their seats Joel must’ve gotten, Ellie noticing it was chili and cornbread night. The man looks at her with a close-lipped smile.

“It won’t be a regular thing—” he replies.

“—thank god,” she interrupts and sits down, Cat joining her.

“—in front of you,” he continues.

“That’s fine by me.”

He grabs his small bowl of dessert and slides it over to her.

“Peach cobbler!” she exclaims. “Fuck yeah!”

Not to be sentimental, but Ellie knows that every night they have dinner, and Joel passes her his dessert so she’ll have two, it’s him saying without words that he loves her—that’s just how they are; they suck at speaking their feelings, so they show how much they care for the other with random things like that.

“Thanks, Joel!” She ignores the chili and slice of cornbread and immediately starts digging into one of the cobblers.

“You’re welcome, Ellie—what took you guys so long? We were expectin’ you to be here before us.”

“We had to hide,” she says around a bite—it tastes so fucking good; peach cobbler is her favorite.

Joel's expression turns to one of concern. “Who the hell were you hidin’ from?”

Their girlfriends had started eating.

She swallows, giving him a look. “Who do you think?” She juts her thumb behind her. “Miss Crazypants over there, who—” She turns in her seat to find Sandra still looking pissed. “—might be Miss Murderpants now.”

“Stop starin’ and pointin’,” Joel hisses, and she faces him again.

Ellie rolls her eyes. “The woman annoys the fuck out of us, and you’re telling me not to be rude to her? A bit hypocritical, seeing as you’re clearly rubbing it in her face that you’re seeing someone.”

His jaw clenches. “That’s different.”

Her eyebrows dip together. “What?”

He adjusts in his chair to lean forward a little and starts whispering, “I want her to see us, so she’ll get the hint and leave us the fuck alone—I also want the whole town buzzin’ about me bein’ in a relationship tomorrow.”

“The first part of that, I get; the second bit, you lost me. It’s not like you to want to be the subject of town gossip.”

He straightens and picks up his spoon. “Don’t worry about it, and eat.”

That’s Joel speak for, ‘I’m done discussing this topic.’

“Okay, you fuckin’ weirdo,” she mumbles and takes another bite.

There’s some talking as they eat between all four of them. Joel seems incredibly interested in Cat’s hobby of tattooing people, which Ellie guesses is because she told him she was getting one. He’s probably just ensuring it’ll be safe and that she won’t have to worry about infections or whatever else could go wrong.

Ellie has completely demolished all the food on her tray and is stuffed, taking a big gulp of her water. She sets the cup down.

“So,” she begins, “how serious is this?” She points between the couple across from her. “Is this a fling? Is she moving in? Are you guys getting married? What can I expect?”

Joel swallows and wipes his mouth with a napkin, which he clutches in his fist as he lays it on the table.

“It’s serious,” he says. “We wanted to talk to you about her movin’ in.”

She figured that would be the case with how much time they spend together at night. Ellie’s not against the idea, but she also does not under any circumstance want to know what they do when they’re alone. She has an idea; she’s not dumb. She just prefers not having any solid evidence.

Ellie pushes her tray forward and crosses her arms on the tabletop.

“Here’s the deal: I’ll be fine with her moving in under one condition.”

He looks curious. “What’s that?”

“Whatever you guys do alone in the bedroom happens when I’m not home; I don’t wanna hear shit, I can’t unhear, and I absolutely do not want to see anything I can’t unsee. It’ll only have to be like that until you finish my apartment.”

He seems to be thinking it over. “Deal.”

“You assholes gonna get married?”

“We haven’t discussed that yet.”

His girlfriend says, “I’m okay with marriage.”

Joel’s head whips her way, and he genuinely looks surprised.

“Really?” he asks.

Ellie snorts because the other woman is looking at him like he’s dumb. “Yeah,” she answers. “What about you?”

“I’m okay with it also.”

“Great.” She smiles.

It’s nice to see Joel so happy and to know he’s found someone. She always worried he’d die alone; sure, he’d have her, but he deserved to be loved by someone and to get good things after all of the shit he’s been through in his long fucking life.

She glances over at Cat, who’s scraping her spoon along the inside of her dessert bowl to get whatever of the cobbler is left. She’s staring at it so intently that Ellie thinks she looks adorable, and it makes her smile.

“Oh, are those the ‘googly eyes’?” she hears Joel ask the woman beside him.

“Yep,” his girlfriend answers.

Cat takes her last bite and asks them while chewing, “What are ‘googly eyes’?”

Joel sounds a little too happy, “It’s how Ellie looks at you.”

Ellie quickly turns toward him. “I don’t have ‘googly eyes’!”

She wants to wipe the smug smile off of his stupid face. “Yes, you do.”

“No, you’re lying!”

He puts a hand over his heart. “God’s honest truth, baby girl, you stare at her with ‘googly eyes.’”

Her cheeks feel hot, and she wants the floor to swallow her whole. “This is so embarrassing.” She doesn’t want to talk about this anymore and remembers something.

Joel’s smiling. “It’s cute.” He starts drinking his water.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m cute, whatever,” she says, swatting away his words with her hand. She focuses on him, leaning over her arms on the table. “You know what would be really cute, now that you’ve got a girlfriend, and I think it’s still possible at your age, you’re pretty fucking old, though, but if it is possible, it’d be really cute if you guys had a baby.” She grins and nods her head.

Joel sputters and starts coughing hard. It takes him a moment to speak, and the look on his face is a mixture of confusion and anger.

“The hell do you mean if it’s possible at my age?!” he rumbles. ”I’m fifty-eight, not dead!”

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[yorsgirl]

Yan!Heian!Sukuna and with Y/N?

Lately, whenever Darling got pregnant she ended up having countless miscarriages, the longest lasting at least 3 months, Sukuna began to suspect these countless coincidences.

He doesn't care about these losses since he didn't want to share Y/N with some brat, but he found it very strange that every time she got pregnant resulted in a miscarriage, so he started investigating and finally found out why this was happening.

He discovered that Y/N was causing her own miscarriages, as she knew that the last thing the world needed was Sukuna's descendants, so he finally confronts her but with that damn psychological terror that he loves to do to her.

Oh my, I love love love this idea!!

I kinda went out on this one, but I hope I did justice to what you were aiming at. Hope you like it :) Also I am sorry for being so late

Playing God

Yandere!Ryomen Sukuna x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: It was a gamble, he was willing to make. To keep you with him, forever, as he wanted. Needed. You had to realize that no other heaven except his arms would be comforting. Even if that meant, breaking your very soul.

Tropes: Dark Romance, Historical fiction, Angst

Warnings: Implied nsfw(forced), mentions of pregnancy, miscarriage, abduction, cannibalism and isolation. Trauma, mild stockholm syndrome, yandere themes, minor character death(s), gore, gaslighting, manipulation, misogyny, blood, degradation(non-kinky), patriarchal society, unhealthy relationship, implied child birth.

General warnings: Yandere!True form!Husband!Sukuna, Wife!Reader, Heian Era, both Sukuna and reader are a red flag on their own, usage of nicknames, no mentions of y/n, not proofread.

Word Count: 9.7k ( Just when I thought AFW2 was long, I write this... I know its too much but trust me, I needed to. There was just so many things which I couldn't miss out.)

A/N: This is the first request which I worked on, so idk if I did it up to your standard. I sincerely apologize, if this isn't what you wanted. + I hope its similar to what you wanted. Thanks for the wait and request.

You were digging your own grave.

So you shouldn't have been surprised that your wish would be granted. Yet, if you could have one wish then you'd wish for freedom but no- freedom was a forfeited dream, far beyond your reach. Consideration of that one would never be fruitful. You are trapped even in your dreams.

Playing with fire only gets you burnt.

For long, you played this game and this- this was your compensation. For everything you had done until now, all you are returned with was abandonment. Not that supposedly, betrayal, yes. More appropriate.

Flames surrounded you, crawling up your skin, the screams piercing your ears, your chest heaved up and down. Gaze, once settled on your hearth, now all you saw was the burning hut, the crackling of embers reached your ears. Attire and hands stained with blood of the insolent. The warning shouldn't have been taken lightly. Should have known, the extent of his power.

Eyes held terror, fright, regret- whatever you could name. The multitude of names you received seemed no more than a distant dream, nowhere to be found. All were running away - expectable.

You expected calamity, but you were calm.

Everything went down in flames. Save for you, you weren't burning. Not an spark touched your skin. Was it the distance or the control? Who knows. But one confirmation which you held was that - tonight you won't die. Not so soon either.

Careful, not all Gods are worshipped.

The words rang in your ears and as if on cue, you found him again. In this reverie of madness, he held your sight when you attempted to turn - The eyes tinted with crimson.

.

"I am sorry for your loss, m'lady."

You had seen it all.

You had your fair share of encounters, received news and such. Women losing their mind and sanity after delivered with a news this devastating. Notably, no woman would feel any bliss after knowing that they had lost their child. Lost the chance of motherhood before experiencing it. Violent outbursts was the most probable outcome.

"This is a hard time," The midwife spoke softly. "Yet, you shouldn't neglect your health."

You perceived the softness to be fear. She must have had dealt with situations like these, most of them traumatizing, you assumed. Perhaps, she expected the same from you too. You tore your gaze off her, leaning back on your bedframe, "I'd like to be left alone."

Your declaration was answered with compliance. Offering a humble bow, she bid you farewell, walking out of your chambers. Once her footsteps seized, you finally let your guard down. Breathing out a sigh of relief, you laid back down on your bed.

"Good riddance," You muttered to yourself. Moments of such vulnerability wasn't rare – considering you were served with loneliness, lately. Save for the times you spent in the presence of Sukuna. His decree, one might say. Your attention shouldn't be wasted on anyone but him.You scoffed recalling his words. Involuntarily, your hand stroked your belly, the corner of your lip curled up.

Once a house to life, given by your husband; now lay vacant from your doing.

A twisted sense of pride swelled up in your chest, a wide grin stretching on your face. You were successful in your quest, again. Mercilessly, you uprooted the seed of your Husband's lineage. Perhaps, you've truly gone sick.

Yet, this revolt of feelings were miles lesser than the repugnant you encountered when you realized your first pregnancy. You were on the brink of clawing out the creature growing in your womb. You'd have torn it apart with while revelling in the joy of watching its blood drip down on the face of Earth. If not for Sukuna's presence in the room, you might've gone through it.

You lost a fragment of yourself, that day.

Throwing up countless times, dizziness, nausea, even losing your consciousness while walking down - no, they weren't pregnancy side effects. More so, the outcome of the stress accumulating in you.

Sickening. His kin you'd have cradled in your body. To have born and grow up into a revolting, merciless creature like his father. To take up place in your womb, your flesh and blood combined with his, a living proof of your plight - disgusting.

Never. You'd never let that happen.

You'd never succumb to such monstrosity.

You had already given up your freedom, your dignity, your alight life to Sukuna in exchange of the lives you held dear. The lives back in your ancestral village, home to your kin.

You were affirmed, an heir of Ryomen Sukuna would never be birthed from you.

Speak of the devil, he appears.

An overwhelming familiar aura surrounded your very being, the doors to your chamber slid open, your captor, your husband strolled inside. Even his mere presence held the malevolence in him. You attempted to rise from your position at his arrival.

"Sit." He commanded.

You silently obeyed his order, keeping your gaze settled on your lap, the energy had your stomach churning with trepidation; at times when you didn't do anything either. And this time, you were guilty. Two moments passed in silence until he spoke.

"I heard from the midwife."

You took in a sharp breath, swallowing a lump in your throat. It was the same ordeal, like the first two times. Yet, you were a tad bit calm since the previous encounters. Probably, due to the fact you were getting used to this role. In this past moons, you had developed into the wife, he was carving you out to be. Giving him just the reactions he wanted, for that saved you a lot of anguish and pain. Even if it came at the price of your self-respect. This was the only way.

With your head hung low, you spoke, "Forgive me, my lord. I am incapable of bearing you an heir. I-It must have been my fau-"

"Not another word."

You instantly stiffened up, his deep voice causing chills to run down your spine. Did you make an error? Was he aware of your tumultuous acts? Was the play not convincing enough?

He held your chin, forcing you to look up at him. All of his four, red eyes bore into you. You bit on your inner cheek, blood coursing in your veins - steadfast.

They say, your fear start to vanish once you've remained in the source of their vicinity too long. That statement is false. For even after staying with your captor for almost two years, you still held your fear.

"The one at fault bore consequences."

That's when you were hit with the faint stench of blood from him. Another one perished. You took the wild guess of it being the midwife. However, instead of amplifying fright, it was lessened. You wouldn't be on the receiving end of his wrath.

"You aren't at fault, wife."

Oh, but you were.

Sukuna held your gaze, cupping your cheek; the rough pad of his thumb trailed a line on your skin. His tone and grip were surprisingly gentle. "There's no need to apologize."

The corners of your eyes crinkled down, you lean into his touch. You assume, it's a good move as you noted the flicker of emotion in his eyes. "It's the third time, my lord. Perhaps, I bear some shortcomings."

"What nonsense," He rolled his eyes. "There's none, not in my eyes. Don't fill your head with such fickle thoughts." He paused for a moment before continuing, "Is that understood?"

He wasn't one for affirmations but maybe- just maybe it was his attempt at comfort, you supposed. The previous losses must had him learning, the threads of condolence. Still, for you, they'd never mean anything less than empty words. The last thing you wanted was to be comforted by your tormentor. You'd rather step into hell willingly.

But you were living under his wing. You have to play according to his whims. You nodded. "Yes, my lord."

His hand left your face, dropping to his thigh. He looked at you, as if sizing you up. You had to keep yourself from making any unnecessary movements. Sukuna wanted you composed, whatever the situation. (Except the times when he bedded you, you were allowed to scream, cry and thrash around then. Cause you were trapped under his immense strength, struggles were futile).

After a while, he asked, "Any wishes?"

You chewed on your bottom lip, eyes flickering down then back to him. You let out a breath, before continuing. "May I visit the shrine... this evening?"

Silence.

You were contemplating whether you had offended him, somehow. Previously, he did allow for your little trips, you wondered if his patience was running thin cause of your repeated incapability of bearing him an heir. Maybe, you ran out of luck.

You were about to mutter an apology but then a smug grin spread across his lips, "Why so?" He asked.

"To-" You swallowed a lump, preparing to answer the practiced dialogue. "To offer prayers for–"

"Why grieve for someone who didn't even take form?" He cut you up, raising an eyebrow. For a tad moment, he sounded curious. It broke into a cruel chuckle, "You humans would make a funeral out of anything, yes?"

If you held an ounce of sympathy then you wouldn't question.

You wanted to say but you knew better. Besides, you still have to keep up the act of being his loyal wife. Heaving a out a deep breath, you replied, "I suppose." You paused, running the tip of your tongue over your lip.

"I'd pray that I can bear you an heir the next time, my lord."

Nay, more so: I'd pray that you receive your end soon, my lord.

Sukuna watched you. No, not look. He watched, like a predator. Then, his lips cracked into a sinister grin. "You've a way with your words, wife."

It caught you off guard. You raised an eyebrow, attempting to voice out your confusion. "What do-"

"I will accompany you."

.

"Sukuna sama, the herbalist you asked for, has arrived."

Sukuna spared a glance at Uraume, who knelt by his feet.

"Bring him."

As on cue, they rose up from their stance, pivoting around towards the door. It parted, two curses had a man in their grasp as he struggled to break free. His eyes widening with terror when it fell on the King, sitting atop his throne.

The man was pushed down to his knees, face meeting the floor in a loud slam. His scuffles were in vain against such power, he knew that. Still, in a situation of life and death, rationality takes it's leave.

Sukuna clicked his tongue in annoyance. All he wanted was some herbalist to answer the flurry of questions in his which had him restless for the past few days. Did this scum think he'd be killed? Maybe he would be, if he deems it necessary or he proves to be useless.

What had him restless was your miscarriages. Counting the most recent would make it a fourth. Where did he go wrong? You were kept in utmost luxury, no toils whatsoever. Still, what was wrong?

—》《—

"Perhaps, there's some faults in her highness."

"Keep your voice down, Mira. Someone may hear you."

"I am a lot quite... but tell me, don't you find it strange? How come she has lost all of her children?"

"I- I suppose. Perhaps, motherhood is not written in her fate."

"Or so, she's simply incapable."

—》《—

Safe to say, those were the last words they uttered before they were turned into a mash of flesh and blood.

Sliced into pieces that even trying to make a proper corpse out of the remnants weren't possible.

At times, Sukuna wished he held the power to bring back someone to life. Then maybe, he'd have given those servants a death, more worthy. Maybe, ripping out their limbs, piece by piece. First the bones would break, ripped from the ligaments, then it'd be the muscles; that was easy to just tear out. And after that happened, he could have just sewn up the blobs of flesh again and repeat the process until they learn their lesson or the life leaves them again.

He deduced the latter would be more probable. Still, it would be fine. They deserved that.

Speaking ill of you in his palace, in his vicinity, in his world was prohibited. A sin, in the words of humans. And a sin never goes unpunished.

You - his consort, his queen, you were heavenly. There isn't a fault in you, it's some external factor, must be. But he can't let go of his growing suspicion either.

Sukuna detested children, it was a known fact. Always ending their lives first, whenever he set foot in a village. They were of no use to him, unless they were served to him on his platter. He couldn't deny, their flesh was flavourful.

Even though, he held great disdain for them, he couldn't help but desire a kinship with you. With the price of letting go of your undivided attention? Hmm, doesn't sound too great. He assumed, he can hire a wet nurse, just in case. Still, he desired to see you round with his child, feet swollen as you struggled to walk around. You do not have to worry, he, your husband would joyfully oblige in carrying you in his arms. You were more than perfect, he couldn't even imagine just how beautiful you'll look, during and after carrying your child.

It was destined. You'd extend his lineage or no one else.

You were flawless then why were you causing such errors? Contradicting. It was his question until he started to take a note in your behaviour, and he found...

Sukuna stood up from his throne, walking down the steps of bones, presumably of the ones he killed. They act as a pretty show piece, according to him.

The court resonated with his footsteps, each one carrying a promise of death. The man's struggles seized once he was harshly pulled up by his hair, his eyes met with Sukuna's.

"Yo-your high–ness," The man fumbled with his words, a spine chilling sensation going down his frame.

"Time's wasting," Sukuna said, his glare pointed. The fury evident, though his exterior was calm. "Comply if you don't wish death."

The man nodded frequently, his fingertips trembled with anticipation and horror. "Ye-yes, your highness. It's an honour to s-serve you." The man fell to his feet as he was dropped. Sukuna dismissed the extra company with a wave of his hand.

"Rise," He declared.

The man still on his knees, raises his head. "What can I- I do for you, your highness?"

—》《—

"May I make a request, my lord?"

Sukuna's eyes flickered to you, yours not meeting his. Knelt before him, you gracefully poured the sake in his ochoko.

"Speak."

He marked the squinting in your irises, fingertips trembled when you put the vessel down. Your shoulders rose and fell before you gazed at him, reluctantly. He couldn't help but find your antics inhumanely amusing. 

"Would you be kind enough... to bring me this-" You paused for a fleeting moment. "This herb called... aloe vera?"

—》《—

"Aloe vera," Sukuna tilted his head aside, the upper pair of arms crossed over his chest. "What use does it have?"

"We-well, my lord it's used for heal-healing purposes, burns, cuts, rashes... it heals injuries, yes." He answered, taking a gulp. There was other uses too yet his head was alike a blank canvas, before such a formidable strength. He wasn't even aware if it was satisfactory or why the King of Curses needed to know about such a measly plant. But if it meant, he gets to live another day, then he'll just give what he could offer. "I-It can also be used to– to make me-medicated food. N-not a delicacy... I might add."

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, "That's it?"

"N-no, my lord. There- it can cure diges-"

"In pregnancy."

The man stiffened, his mouth parting a tad bit. A whisper leaving his lips, "Yo-your highness...?"

Pregnancy, menstruation, considered taboo. A matter regarding women, spoken in the inner chambers, the men should remain ignorant. A topic whispered in ears not spoken aloud in any hall, let alone the royal court. Certainly, Sukuna was aware of this societal construct, yet he didn't care. The society and its idiotic rules could go to hell. He just needed answers.

"Speak," Sukuna's voice was louder, deeper when the man before him fidgeted in his spot due to discomfort - on speaking such a topic.

"It-Its a- your highness, I d-don't think you-"

"Bastard," His fumbling was interrupted by Sukuna. The warning evident in his profanity. His face grew darker, the four irises glowing with impending danger akin Satan himself. "If you so much as want to live, fucking speak."

The man's blood ran cold as on cue, face turning a shade paler as if winter had started to pool in. Tears prickled the corners of his eyes, "Forgive me, your highness! I will speak, I will- yes- aloe vera its-" He heaved out a deep breath, an attempt to slow down his beating heart. "Any fo-form of it is ill-suited during pregnancy... it can cause... cause pe-pelvic haemorrhage leading to... to  misc-"

"Miscarriage?"

"Yes, miscarriage... can lead to miscarriage, your highness."

A profound silence prevailed. Not a soul spoke neither was a footstep heard. Not a leaf rustled or the howling winds tapped on the window pane - assumed, mother nature had halted its elements from making any noise.

The stakes were high yet an flicker of courage alighted in the man as he raised his head up to glance at Sukuna, "My lor-"

The man's head tumbled down before he could even complete.

He couldn't scream, he couldn't beg, he couldn't apologize, he couldn't even blink. All he could do was watch. Watch as his beheaded body fell limp before his eyes. Watch as the blood poured out like waterfalls staining the carpet with its hues. The red marred bones protruded out amidst the flesh, globs of blood was gushing out of his severed voice box. His body jerked, the remnants of conscious nerves trying to survive.

It was a neat cut. A heavenly sight.

The world started to blur in. And before he knew it, the light was gone from his eyes.

Sukuna didn't even spare a glance as he marched out of his court.

Uraume approached the body, a few maids accompanying them. They casted a disapproving glare at the corpse.

"Not edible, dispose of it."

.

You didn't see or hear from Sukuna for a week.

He didn't visit your chambers at night neither was he present when you sat down for your meals. Even his energy was alike a hushed whisper which would remind you of his presence in the residence, but not reveal himself to you. For some reason, it had you in an unease.

No, you certainly did not miss his presence. But his absence just made the surroundings almost suffocating. There was the looming threat that something had happened or something were to happen. One worse than the other.

Silence was never uneventful.

Taking up the courage, you had once inquired Uraume about his absence. Presenting a polite bow, they answered, "Sukuna sama doesn't want to be disturbed."

Disturbed... as if he wasn't the cause of all disturbances. A natural disaster in himself. You resisted the urge to scoff and uttered a meek line of gratitude before going about your day. (That extended with you strolling down the halls or garden or just be in your chambers and read the few books, Sukuna had bought you).

On the very same day the dark commenced. While you were mesmerized by the fall of twilight over the garden, you heard his voice.

"Don't you love playing with poison, wife?"

The sudden question made you halt your steps, you weren't even aware that he was present- shielded his aura, presumably. You turned around, raising an eyebrow with bewilderment.

"Pardon, my lord?"

Sukuna snorted , walking up to you, a smirk played on his lips. You had to make the effort of tilting your head to gaze up at him. His towering figure loomed over you, his lower left hand snaking around your waist - pulling you closer to him.

"You love poisons, don't you? Or in your words - herbs."

Your shoulders grew rigid, eyes widening with realization, a sharp breath hitting your throat. Your fingertips trembled with anticipation. You were sure to be discreet in your affairs, using the isolation he subjected you to at its best. He knew. It was bad. Very much so. And what were to happen now? What would he do to you?

Another night of horror where your screams would be unheard, your resistance proved to be futile, where you'd be left to suffer alone, where another shard of your remaining soul would be plunged by him. Another night where you'd again play into his whims... Or something more vile, leaving you physically disabled? Perhaps, even death...

The foremost was the most heinous one. You silently prayed that he wouldn't resort to that. If you were to be subjected to his torment then you wished he'd just kill you, liberating you for once and for all. Even so, survival is what the mind wants. Piecing through any tactic just to live another day. The play for now should be denial.

Sukuna's affections for you worked as a double edged sword. You aimed to take advantage of it, in every way possible. You instilled a bit of courage, standing your ground, you spoke "I don't understand what you're trying to instigate, my lord."

He looked down on you, a coy smile uplifting his lips. He threaded his fingers through the knot of your kimono, leaning down next to your ear, he inhaled your scent. His lips brushing over your neck.

"I do not believe so, wife." He murmured, his warm breath hitting your skin, a range of goosebumps rising over your arm. "In fact, I think you clearly know, what I speak about."

Before you could let a word out, he straightened up, turning around, he pushed you to walk with him. His large hand still covering your back.

"Come, let me entertain you."

.

You were walking to the gallows.

Not literally but you were sure, your end was near.

The wooden floors creaked with footfalls. Each step heavier than the previous. You hesitantly glimpsed at Sukuna, his gaze was far ahead. Not a word left his mouth in this while. Only his hold remained firm. He pushed you forward every moment your step faltered.

Your breath hitched when you turned a corner - the right wing. A rule, you could say. Sukuna made it clear since the day he held you captive brought you home - never step a foot in the right wing. Despair drowned your curiosity that time, you didn't question, least bothered to. Even later, you didn't dare to defy him; courtesy to the pain you were subjected to once.

Still, you could make the wild guess of what happened in there. The muffled screams kept you awake at midnight, it was easy to put the puzzle pieces together. There he revelled with the sick pleasure of tormenting your kind.

He stopped before a pair of oak doors. That's when he glanced at you, for the first time in a long while. For a moment, he stared at you with an emotion you couldn't decipher. The next moment, he pulled out the Kanzashi from your hair, letting your strands tousle down.

You flinched, pushing away the curls which clouded your vision. Sukuna held the pin in his hand, holding your gaze. He was unmoving.

What happened to him?

"My lord," You called. "What are you-"

"Stay quiet," He handed you the kanzashi back, adjusting your hand to hold it as if it were a dagger. Turning to the door, he spared you a glance. "Don't speak a word." With that, the doors opened.

Dark.

It was dark save for the light of the lantern which illuminated the room. He shoved you forward, the door locking behind as he stood aside you.

"One bite."

Huh? Bite? What did he mean? You slightly turned your head towards him but you were stopped in your tracks. It wasn't only you and Sukuna in this room, seems you had a guest. More appropriate word? A Captive.

Your eyes were wide open. On the corner of the room, sat a young boy, not more than a adolescent - blindfolded. Restrained by chains, his wrists and ankles were cuffed with metal. A small whimper left his lips as he registered the presence of both of you.

You were about to speak but then his words rang in your mind.

Don't speak a word.

Sukuna gripped your wrist, leading you to the boy, "One bite, in the arm."

He wasn't talking to you. To the boy, he kept his eyes. You marked how the boy flinched. The metals clanking on contact.

He turned to you then, motioning to the pin in your hand then the boy's arm. Realization hit you. You tried to shake your head, refuse; but one glare of his and you were compelled. Reluctantly, you turned around, trudging to the boy.

Something was wrong.

You could feel it. Why... why would he want you to stab this poor boy? A picture of misery, he was. You noted he didn't have any sign of bruises in his body - peculiar. Yet, his fragile state was enough to give you a hint that he had been here for days. Perhaps, starved too. The tension was high and all you wanted was to leave this room, in an instant.

Fine, if Sukuna wanted you to just stab the boy. You'd do it. Missing the vital points which could end his life. One, he said. You'll miss the point and done. Its not upon you that you'd pierce the wrong place. His instructions weren't specific - that'd be your excuse.

He won't die. Not from your hands.

You gently held the boy's arm, angling the pointers on the muscles. You drove it in.

Miscalculation.

The boy's body instantly stiffened, an gut wrenching scream erupted from his mouth. He thrashed around, swinging his legs and arms, his body twitching violently.

You recoiled back soon, yanking out the pin, stepping away on instinct. You watched with terror.

Foam rose up the boy's mouth, his shrieks pierced your eardrums. The fluid dripped down his jaw, marring his clothes. He clutched the area where you stabbed him. Scratching at it with all his might. The sound of flesh ripping filled your ears as the boy ruthlessly, tore the muscles.

You were stunted. You couldn't speak or move. You weren't chained but you felt as if a thousand shackles bore you down.

The next seconds were a blur. The screams started to die down, his body losing it's color. Sooner than you could grasp, did the room turn silent again.

The boy was dead.

.

"Enjoyed the show, wife?"

You slapped your hand over your mouth, stumbling a few steps back. You couldn't tear your eyes off the young boy, bile rose up your throat as the room started to spin.

"Wh-what did you-"

No- you couldn't throw up, whatever second thought it was, it refrained you from crumbling to your knees and make a mess. Shivers went down your spine, you struggled to stand straight. The stench of the corpse and the expunging liquids started to fill your nostrils. You were almost on the verge to lose consciousness.

"What... did you do?"

Your eyes flickered to Sukuna. He stood tall, not a sign of emotion on his mien. You regret ever considering mirth to the worst feature on him, cause none was more terrifying.

And he was watching you.

It reminded you of the time, you first saw him -  covered with blood of the lives he had taken, down the river bank. Victim of naivety and ignorance, you didn't know any better than to not let him see you. Wandering towards the peculiar beast, even when a gut wrenching terror asked you to run; you were stubborn. You had asked - are you alright?

"What did you do?" You repeated again.

Tilting his head, he kept his unwavering gaze fixed on you. "As a matter of fact, I didn't do anything, wife." He paused, letting the horror shadow your features, "It was all you."

You needed to run.

The kanzashi, which was till then clasped in your hand firmly, fell down. A clank, you heard.

One step.

One step towards the door. He is standing afore you, the fingers of his upper right arm ran through your open hair, tangling in the roots, he yanked your head back.

"I don't remember, giving you the permission to leave."

Tears prickled your eyes as you tried to break free. Sukuna was having none of it. He dragged you by your hair towards the corpse of the boy. Your nails jabbed into his wrist while whimpers of anguish left your mouth.

Sukuna shoved you down to your knees, tugging your hair back - you were sure, they will be ripped off if he puts any more pressure - he made you glance at its face. He crouched beside you. With a flick of his finger, he ripped the blindfold out of the boy.

"Dare to shut your eyes."

Compliance had become second nature.

The body was rigid, skin turning blue. The veins on his arms were bulged out, his mouth wide open, filled with foam, trickling down his cheek, drying on it.

The sight caused you to gag.

Horrifying. His bloodshot eyes were wide open, protruding out of the sockets. Irises dilated in shape, which you considered humanly impossible. But what had your heart hammering in your chest wasn't the vivid details you saw on the corpse. It was the fact, that you recognized the boy. Son of that distant elder cousin, you'd seen once or twice in a year.

"Look at that, love." Sukuna cooed in your ear, forcing you to face the corpse.

You shook your head violently, clawing at his wrist - desperate to escape. Your heart thumped inside your ribcage, you could hear it in your ears, your guts twisted in numerous ways as sweatbeads trailed down your forehead.

"You did that."

No. No, you didn't. You didn't do it. It wasn't you.

"You killed him."

No, you didn't... he didn't die because of you.

"Take a good look. See what you've done."

You vigorously shook your head. Denying all of his claims cause... cause they were... false, yes, false. They were false.

"No," You stated once you found your voice. "N-no, no... I- no."

Sukuna hummed, twisting a knot in your hair, "Yes, you. You did it."

No. You were innocent. You weren't to be blamed. It wasn't you.

It was... him.

"No, no, I didn't," You refused again, standing your ground. Moving your eyes towards him, you gritted your teeth. "No, I didn't do it. I didn't do anything. It was you."

"Really? How so?"

Fire burnt in your eyes. It was enough. He couldn't make you believe which you didn't commit - you didn't kill him.

"Poison," You said with conviction lacing your tone. "He was poisoned, a stab wouldn't procure such a reaction."

"Observant as ever," He mused, quirking up an eyebrow. A faint smile curled up on his lips. "Still, it doesn't gratify the fact that you were the one to end his life."

Blood boiled inside you, surging through your veins like lava. He had no right to accuse you of something. You didn't kill him, he couldn't make you believe it, whatsoever may happen.

"I may have stabbed him with the kanzashi, but that didn't have any trace of poison in it. I am-"

"Sure of it?"

You could only glare at him. He was toying with you. Tugging the strings of your conscience but you won't have any of it. "I am," You confirmed, staring at him without any falters. "I held it... you held it. If it was really drenched with toxicant as lethal as that, we- we both would be dead."

His grip loosened from your hair, hand falling down. The corners of his eyes crinkled, the smile turning into a smirk.

"It was you," You continued. "You did something to him at first and-"

Sukuna broke into a chortle of laughter. Far from jovial, more so sinister, filled with sheer malevolence. He gripped your jaw, pulling you closer to himself. His sharp canines glinted in the dim light.

"You just keep on fascinating me, wife."

Each second with him was revolting. Just his touch alone had your skin crawling. Yet, you couldn't let him know he has the upper hand.

"We had a pact," You stated firmly. His game was disgusting. What was he trying to do? What was his goal? "If I stay with you, you wouldn't lay a finger on my family, then- h-how could-"

"I would still stand on the ground, that I didn't do anything." He replied, a hint of amusement in his tone. "It was all you, wife. I can assure you that I didn't go back in my words." His canines glinted while he smiled. "Not a flick of pain. Save for..." He paused, his eyes widening, the carmine irises glowed in the dark. "Save for telling him, he'd be killed by a snake bite."

"There was no venom on my pin."

"Know so," He confirmed, a playful smirk on his visage. You wished you could read minds, if possible only of him, that'd been enough. Then where did poison come from? You wanted to question but he beat you to it.

"His fear turned into poison."

You blinked. Once. Twice. You knew he had an urge to play mind games but this was ridiculous. You questioned, shell-shocked, "What?"

"He let his fear get the better of him, assuming your pin to be a snake. He believed it." He explained while you listened without so much as a word. "His conscience caused his body to give out the exact reactions, he imagined. A shock, you might say. That caused his death."

His game was disgusting. If he thought, he could just give you any excuse as this and let you believe his accusations then he was mad wrong. You gritted your teeth, yanking your face away from his grip. For a second, you saw all of his eyes opening wide with surprise. But that didn't extinguish the fire burning in you.

He reached out, dragging you towards him via the arm. A glare resting on his face. "What did I tell about refusi-"

"I don't believe you," You cut him off, hands clenched into fists. It was the first time in a long time, you lost your composure in front of him. No, you wouldn't play as his doll anymore. He broke his promise, its only fair that you do so. "I don't believe a single word you say. You- you did something, you must have. Fear, belief, whatever the fuck, something as trivial as that-"

"So you think fear is trivial, wife?" He sighed, his clutch in your arm remained firm. The rough callouses of his palm, rubbed over your skin. "And here I thought, you might be different than the rest. But you managed to drop below my expectations."

"Maybe that's what I love about you, darling." He continued.

Disgust arose in you, yet again. Love. As if he had any of that. He wasn't capable of love. Not in this lifetime. Never. 

He spoke again, "Times you are the smartest I have seen, then you speak such blasphemy which would even embarrass the Gods you worship. Your silence was awarded by him leaning near your ear. He twisted a curl of your hair between his fingers. "Fear, wife..." He whispered to you. "Fear is a mind killer. It makes you believe anything. The small drop of poison which contaminates all the water."

"In the end, belief and fear are sides of the same coin," His top two eyes, flickered to the corpse of the boy. "I made him consume the poison of fear and you-" He turned to you again. "You made him believe it... so, in a way, yes. Yes, I did do something. Save for the part of ending his life. Though I didn't break my part of our pact." A smirk tugged on his lips. "You were the one who killed him. Isn't that great?"

Your breath hitched, throat gone dry. You gazed at him, eyes wide open. Your mind was a blank canvas.

Fear, poison, belief, killing...

He made you kill someone. An innocent boy who didn't even do anything.

Why won't he much rather just end your life?

Sukuna pulled away from you, standing up, he walked over to the lantern placed in the room. The stench of the rotting corpse had long ago started to pool in.

"You made me kill him." You whispered, still knelt, staring at the floor. When greeted with silence, you questioned again, a tone higher, "You made me kill him."

"And?"

His nonchalance had always been infuriating to you.

You could feel him standing a few steps behind you. "If you really wanted to kill my kin, you should've just told me. Getting your herbs was a tiring chore." You didn't miss the emphasis he put on, herbs. You could see him, rolling his eyes while speaking. "However, the taste of taking a life - isn't it delicious, wife?"

Guilt gnawed at you, tearing you internally. Your shoulders trembled as you let out ragged breaths, eyes fixed on the bloodied arm of the boy. The same arm where the kanzashi pierced, the muscles torn apart, blood drying on it due to the boy's onslaught. Nausea overrode your senses, bile rose up your throat and the next moment you were throwing up. The wastes ran down your mouth, your nails dug into the wooden - bruising your fingertips and chipping the nails. You don't realize Sukuna stepping up to your side, pulling your hair back while you were caught into the ordeal.

A disapproving grunt left his mouth after you were finished, yanking you up with your wrist. He pulled you towards the door. "Com-"

"No." Your heels remained firm on the ground. You refused him before you could even think. He turned towards you slightly, a scowl resting on his features before he pivoted around. He cast a glare upon you but before he could speak, your mouth opened again.

"You're even lower than scum." Your jaw ticked, hands clenching into fists. "You made me kill an innocent boy. Someone who might have done nothing to you, You– You disgust me, Sukuna."

Done you were with the respect, he demanded. If that angered him, made him want to rip out your heart and watch the life drain from your eyes. He was most welcome.

But it looks like, he wasn't resorting to any of that.

"You made me a murderer." You urged, staying strong in your stance. "You turned me into you."

His eyebrow twitched, a wave of mirth washed over him. "You were always like me, wife."

"I am nothing-"

"You're. You are like me. You are no saint, as you think so of yourself. " He said, leaving no room for argument. His lips pressed tight into a thin line. 

Yet, you refused to believe that. You were nothing like him. Couldn't even dream so. You were not him.

"You kill children in your womb, I kill them, after they're born. How is it so different?"

"It is different." You yelled, your jaw clenched, teeth baring out. "This world needs no more of your lineage, it needs no more of you." You jabbed your pointer finger on his chest, tears pooling into your eyes. You refused to shed them. "I kill for your own sake, I do not."

"Then who do you kill for?"

"For everyone." The faint snort of his reached your ears. You couldn't decipher what he found so delightful in this.

"Playing God, are we?" He mocked causing your vexation to rise.

"Maybe I am. For the least, I am not killing innocent people like you."

From where such defiance arose, you weren't sure of. Perhaps, all the frustration, fright, terror which accumulated till now had reached its limit. Moreover, Sukuna's provocation must be the fuel to the fire.

You might be left bleeding– No, you would be left bleeding. You welcomed it with open arms.

.

"Careful," Sukuna pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear. "All Gods aren't worshipped."

He was enjoying himself. In all honesty, your obedience was getting too monotonous. This was better. Your defiance was amusing. Arousing, if there's to add. If he knew, letting you end a few lives would have this effect then he would have resorted to this long ago.

"Better than you." You shoved his hand away, "You are nothing more than a wretched, two-faced curse destroying all of our lives."

He noted your scowl, the way your lips were shut tight, your eyebrows crinkled together. Reasons evident, all he desired was to pull you into his arms smash his lips against yours. Taste the very essence of your being. Consume you wholly, just the way you are. So that in the end, your name, your taste, your scent would be engraved in his very soul. Without your mention, he wouldn't be complete. 

But he refrained from giving in now. His desire extended to a far more sinister route. "I wonder..."

What would it be like to break your conviction? What would it be like to break you?

Oh, he knew.

Would it be right moment to let you know? Maybe he should wait for another, more appropriate time.

Hmm, perhaps he should. But no.

He let you play these games for too long. Tired of this game plan, he was. Maybe, you would just come to your senses if he let you know. So he let the words, flow out:

"I wonder, why this curse keeps protecting your pathetic life from people who would cross rivers to lay siege to your life?"

Worth everything.

Sukuna watched as your face lost its color. The previous boldness you presented him with was replaced by a mask of confusion and. Such a pretty sight, it was. To see you, falter from your stand. Second guess, yourself, be in denial then rage consumes you. And you look at him, like he was the forbearer of your misery. (He is).

Oh, how good he has you memorized.

Even the littlest of reactions you contort on your mien, on your mannerisms; everything has him intrigued. You have him intoxicated.

"You know the ones, the people... your people, for whom you play this God."

Sukuna wished he could capture this moment. He'd have the chance to take a glimpse of it again, whenever he wished to. The horrified look on your face as the weight of his words started to sink in.

Would you still look like this if he tells you the terror he bestowed on them who tried to steal you away from him? What would you say if he vividly describes each imagery of how he slowly, agonizingly burnt them, severed them and tormented them? Leaving them nothing but fragments beyond recognition.

You were his. All of you belonged to him. Without his sanction, no one could even see you, let alone touch you. Ah- just how many sorcerers perished from his hands, the number of villages, bathed in blood; save for yours. (Courtesy to that stupid pact, he forged with you)

Something had told him, that there'd be a better time to put an end to the pitiful lives of your kin.

"Can't speak? What caused so, darling?" His tone was laced with smugness, a twisted joy elicited in him. "Fearful that your play amounted to nothing?"

Your jaw ticked with anger. You were furious. "I don't believe you. You are lying."

Your trust on humans was commendable, he'd give you that. However, there's stark contrast between faith and blind belief. You were inclining towards the latter.

So, what do they do when words fail to convey message? Oh right, you give them a prime example.

"Let me just show it to you then, wife."

It was a gamble, he was willing to make. To keep you with him, forever, as he wanted - he needed you to know that no place other than his arms would be as comforting. Even if that meant breaking your very soul, so be it.

.

You were home.

One moment, Sukuna held your gaze. The next, you are standing before your hearth.

Toes dipping into the familiar black soil, the land where you ran and played during your childhood. Your familial home stood steps away from you. Still looked the same except the visible cracks on the wall, a layer of dust on top of the door and the woods looked worn out. However, what caught your eyes weren't the flaws of your home but the familiar older woman walking into your home.

"Mother…"

She stilled all of a sudden, rotating on her heels, her eyes landed on you. Shell shocked, that's what she was with the widened eyes and parted lips. A small smile curved up on your lips, she still looked the same except the few grey hairs and wrinkles aside her eyes.

"Mother," You called again, taking a step towards her. "I am back."

Sooner than you expected, her eyebrows scrunched up, mouth curving down when she finally registered your presence. You weren't some illusion or her mind playing tricks. "What are you here for?"

The disdainful tone caused you to flinch. You didn't expect this. Returning home, you dreamt of it to be filled with tears of joy and warm embraces. Not this… whatever, she was presenting you with. But- But its fine, you have returned after a two whole years. She must have been worried. The reason of her apprehension. God, you had a lot making up to do.

"Well, you know," You chuckled lightly, scratching the back of your neck. "Back… just back. I have returned."

"Found your way after two years?" She crossed her arms over her chest, staring at you with a look you didn't want to recognize.

You nodded, "Yes. How could I forget my way? Our address, its-"

You were interrupted when your name was spit out from her mouth. Her glare on you was palpable, "I know what it is. What are you here for?"

Her fury even made your skin crawl with fear. You were often on the receiving end of her glare when you were a child, given by your tendencies to run around and cause trouble for others. Yet, those glares, were none like this. This- this- you didn't want to name what it was.

"You are angry," You don't know if its directed towards your mother or yourself as you hold onto the last bit of fragments that not all is lost. "I get it, I really do." You stood on your toes, attempting to look behind her, into your house. "Where's father? Tell him, I am-"

"No more."

As if the air was knocked out of your lungs.

"What?" Your neck craned towards her so fast, it might have left a sprain. Yet, that was the least of your concern. "What do you mean by no more?"

"No more means no more." Your mother's sigh fell heavy on the air, words carried the weight of the world. Laid with pain underneath.

"How- when? Wha-what happened?" You couldn't wrap your mind around the new discovery. No one told you such. Who could've guessed? Such an ordeal to occur in your absence. And what might she be going through, without you. You didn't even get the chance to talk to him, one last time.

"A year ago," She confessed, her voice conveyed her lament and sorrow. Her words felt like a hammered blow on the fragile façade of hope, you had intricately crafted for yourself. However, she wasn't done. Her eyes held scorn, lips curled up to a sneer. "Aren't you satisfied? You finally made your mark. Must tell you," Her voice, once filled with love held nothing save for contempt, directed at you. "Good game, you played, dear." She spit the endearment as if, it were poison.

"No, I- I never wanted any of this. What are you even talking about?" A trembling footfall towards her, you whispered, "M-mother-"

"Don't you dare call me that."

The weight of her judgement felt heavy on you, pressing down, suffocating you alike chains.

"You are no daughter of mine."

You weren't aware since when the tears had sprang up your eyes, breaking the barricades, they shed down. Your throat burnt as you struggled to even breathe, clutching your chest - a searing pain shooting in your heart. Your heart was shattering from the ultimate rejection from your own flesh and blood.

"While you're at it, know this." Your mother continued.

The next words were like a blow to the gut, each syllable lined with the weight of revelations. Ones that hung in the air like a funeral shroud.

"In his last moments, his only regret was bringing a daughter like you in this world."

.

This night just doesn't seem to end, does it?

You were left as a hollow shell. Tethering the steps away from the home you were no more welcomed. Exhaustion reigned heavy on you. Physically and mentally.

Where were you going? You didn't know. Just where your feet would take you, there would you go. Perhaps, you can return to Sukuna. Would he take you back? Most probably not. Considering, your earlier outburst, adding to the fact that you refused to give him what you want; he might just discard you as you proved to be useless.

Funny. It was so damn funny. Once, you wished to escape from his hands whatsoever the price yet now… now you considered returning to him.

You could hear him calling you pathetic. Disgusting. More disgusting, that you agreed with him.

You were truly pathetic.

But before you could spiral down the void of self-hatred, a voice- nah, multiple voices startled you.

"There she is, parading around some meek, innocent girl." A scoff is added. "You are far from it."

"The nerve of you to just walk back into our lives after you betrayed us."

Your neck cranes to your left, an old man - the village elder with a few other men and women following behind; they approached you. "Excuse me?"

"Who do you think you are?" A woman's cry reached your ears. "Returning after you turned your back on us."

You flinched at the accusation thrown. What could be possibly be instigating? To all your knowledge, you were walking in this- in your village after two long years. Anger, disdain and accusatory glares clouded their features. If your mother's insults weren't enough to pierce through your heart then it certainly did now, with all the people, you once called your own to look at you like you were the monster.

You summoned the least bit of courage you had, squared your shoulders and started, "I'd have you know-"

"Traitors don't get to speak." At the center of the crowd was the village elder. He was the pillars of your hamlet, revered for his wisdom and guidance, but now he looked akin a judge ready to deliver his sentence upon you. A sentence which would push you more into this conundrum. "You've been cavorting to that monster. Disgusting."

"I am no traitor." You retorted soon. "You can't accuse me of such when you don't ev-"

"Save it for someone who would care, whore."

The curse had your mouth parted in disbelief, horror etched upon your mien. Sooner than you could compose yourself, did whispers of agreement rippled through the crowd which branded you as a traitor.

"You are just as twisted as him."

"Get out of here if you so much as hold your life dear."

"Don't play as the innocent bitch, now."

The accusation hung in the air like a dark cloud, poisoning the atmosphere with its venomous hatred. Your breath was caught in your throat as you searched desperately for words to defend yourself; the crowd's hostility rendered you speechless. But amidst the cacophony of condemnation, one voice stood out above the rest.

I wonder, why this curse keeps protecting your pathetic life from people who would cross rivers to lay down yours?

Really? Were you really recalling his words now? Now of all times… You truly were pathetic.

For one moment, You just stayed silent - letting their accusations bore you down. Somewhere you wished all of it were just a nightmare. You'll soon wake up on your bed beside Sukun- fuck! Since when did you start to expect to wake up with him? He- He was toying with your mind. This was the only result. But the fact that this was your thought process had you recoil back.

The next moment, everything made sense.

These accusations were stemmed from the fact that you- you were proclaimed to be the wife of the King of curses. Your unwillingness to return, given for the pact you forged with Sukuna, was taken as your cue that you betrayed your family, your home, your people.

Your family despised you. Your people despised you. The very same people you chose to protect were turning their back on you.

Did they truly try to lay down your life?

Amidst your plight, you didn't register when the village elder marched up to you. "Didn't you hea-" His trial at speech was cut off. Nay, his lifeline was cut off. (Humorous, isn't it?)

Numerous red lines appeared on his body before it burst off into a globs of flesh and blood. Blood which splashed onto you, marring your visage and attire with its hues.

He was here. You knew it. You could feel it.

For some reason, it filled you with a sense of relief.

However, your people were on the other end of the rope. The eyes which afore held hatred and disgust, they were now filled with horror and fright. In this reverie as the villagers started to flee, a torch tumbled on the ground - lighting the grass on fire. The winds showed no mercy, as the howls increased, so did the flames.

Provoking him was never the right move.

You were digging your own grave.

So you shouldn't have been surprised that your wish would be granted. Yet, if you could have one wish then you'd wish for freedom but no- freedom was a forfeited dream, far beyond your reach. Consideration of that one would never be fruitful. You are trapped even in your dreams.

Playing with fire only gets you burnt.

For long, you played this game and this- this was your compensation. For everything you had done until now, all you are returned with was abandonment. Not that supposedly, betrayal, yes. More appropriate.

Flames surrounded you, crawling up your skin, the screams piercing your ears, your chest heaved up and down. Gaze, once settled on your hearth, now all you saw were the burning huts, the crackling of embers reached your ears. Attire and hands stained with blood of the insolent.

No one touches what's mine.

The warning shouldn't have been taken lightly. Should have known, the extent of his power.

Eyes held terror, fright, regret- whatever you could name. The multitude of names you received seemed no more than a distant dream, nowhere to be found. All were running away - expectable.

You expected calamity, but you were calm.

The sparks danced over your irises as everything went down in the crimson hues. Save for you, you weren't burning. Not an spark touched your skin. Was it the distance or the control? Who knows. But one confirmation which you held was that - tonight you won't die. Not so soon either.

Careful, not all Gods are worshipped.

The words rang in your ears and as if on cue, you found him again. In this trance of insanity, only one thing held your sight when you attempted to turn - The eyes tinted with crimson.

All of a sudden, something burnt inside you too.

Unbridled rage consumed you. Your chest heaved up and down as ragged breath left your mouth. Their words came back to you, ringing in your ears as if you were pushed into a void.

Who do you think you are? Returning after you turned your back on us.

Would this bitch even be alive if you prioritized yourself?

Don't play as the innocent bitch, now.

Is that the thanks you get for trying to protect them?

Traitors don't get to talk.

Traitor… fine, you'd be the traitor.

With caution you took one step towards him. No reaction. Your chance - you took another. Then another and another. You stood before him, with nothing save for a void etching your features. Amusement flickered over him, the corner of his lip curled up.

"Saw it for yourself wife?"

Seemed like silence was your go-to response lately. From your peripheral, you saw the burning houses, the distant screams reached you. For some reason, the screams were almost soothing. You revelled in this. Their gut wrenching shrieks were like a balm to your essence.

Their predicament was your solace.

Sounded like someone you knew. Someone who had warned you about them but you chose to remain ignorant. Sickening… were you becoming like him?

You were always like me, wife.

You could laugh. Maybe you were like him.

"Let's forge another pact?" You offered, keeping your eyes pinned on him.

"A pact?"

"A pact."

A smirk curved up his lips, the upper pair of arms crossed over his chest, "Humour me, love."

The smirk wasn't directly for you. But he did. So you returned it back. One with an equal malicious intent. Cause in that moment, no second thoughts, no doubts clouded your mind. And so, you uttered the blasphemy:

"You kill them all, each and everyone. In return, I will stay with you, give you an heir. Whatever you want from me."

.

A year later

Screams died down after a gruelling ten hours.

"Good news, Sukuna sama. It's a boy."

A/N: Honestly, I was almost done with this fic, long ago but while writing the climax, I kept chickening out with all the self-doubts but then I just wrote what I wanted. I do understand if the ending is not up to your liking and I sincerely apologize for it.

However, thanks for reading up till the end. I enjoyed writing this a lot. Some feedback is appreciated <3

[jessjad]

More than this

Summary: Y/N and Dean have been together for a while now, but she's not sure if this is going any further. More and more it feels like he only wants one thing from her and Y/N isn't sure if she can continue to give it to him.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word count: 4417

Warnings: 18+ only!!! some smutty smutness (a little rougher in the beginning), a little heartbreak, some angst, fluff and some realizations

A/N: Hello! 😊 So, I had this idea in my head and I really wanted to write it out, but I had to redo it a couple of times until I got it right. Get ready for some feelings. All mistakes are mine!

My Masterlist

"You like this, right?"

Dean murmured roughly into Y/N's ear while he kept pounding her hard into the matress. She was laying underneath him, legs around his hips and taking his rough thrusts with accompanying moans. Yeah, she liked it. Dean knew just how to make her come, how to manhandle her, but she could not answer him. In a way she just wanted it to be over. He kept talking dirty to her and started to grib her throat lightly. With his other hand he took one of her calves and brought her leg up on his shoulder to change the angle, to get even deepr into her heat.

"Oh, I know you like this, sweetheart. Hitting every sensitive spot insight you while I fuck you really hard. Just to keep you on edge." he increased the pressure on her throat a little and started to circle her clit with his thump.

Y/N began to feel a little anxious about the hand on her throat and gripped his wrist with some fear, but that was something that Dean didn't notice while he was chasing his own release. Y/N was sure that he would never hurt her, but that was something knew. Something she actually did not like.

She felt the pressure build in her core and the heat that started to rise up in her body took her mind of the current situation that bothered her. Dean lavished on her nipples with his tounge, intensifying the pressure and in the moment when he let go of her throat, the coil snapped and she came hard on his cock. Screaming his name, Dean's movements began to falter and he too came undone, releasing his sticky seed and filling her to the brim.

The Winchester rolled down of her and layed himself right next to her. Relishing in the feeling of the post sexual bliss, both their breahts came hard while their racing hearts were trying to calm themselfs down again. He closed his eyes and smiled before he turned to the woman next to him, to see how she felt. With one arm drapped over her stomache he gave her a sweet kiss on the cheek, but Y/N didn' react in any way.

"You okay there, sweetheart?" he asked and looked closely at her.

Upon hearing his voice, a smile appeared on her lips and she turned her head to Dean. "Yeah, all good."

To not have to look him into the face much longer she scooded over to him and buried her face in the crook of his neck. Now, laying in his warm embrace and hearing his heartbeat, she felt safe, good. Once this rough side of Dean was gone, she wanted to be as close to him as she could. This is what she wanted to experience more with him and she probably should just talk to him. But she didn't know how. And if she was honest, this was somehow all her fault.

When she met Dean for the first time, she was hooked right away. He had put on a charming smile that reached his beautiful green eyes and right away she felt like a fly who was drawn to the light. Although she couldn't really believe that he was actually attracted to her. She was no model and definitly not perfect, but that didn't seem to bother him at all. And so she had no problem to share her bed with him the first night and it was really beautiful.

A string of dates followed in which they got to know each other better and better and they also kept up their nightly activities underneath the sheets. After a month it felt right and Y/N started to fall for the tall man. Her heart began to yearn for him and she could only hope that he was starting to feel the same way. She felt so comfortable with him, because he seemed to genuinely like her just the way she was. And that led to the situation they now found themselves in.

One night, while they were about to make the bed shake again, she had brought it up that she likes it a little harder sometimes. And Dean, the gentleman that he was, tried to do justice to her wishes. In the beginning they tested it out and at some point they found a grove with eachother. It was fun.

But now, over six months later, this was all there was left. Hard, rough sex. No sweet feelings or romance. And also no emotional intimacy. Even the dates had stopped. They only met at her place or, like right now, here in the bunker at Dean's place.

Y/N knew about his actual job and eventhough she didn't want to get involved with it, it didn't bother her. Dean was saving lives, he was a warior. A frecking hero! And that just made her fall for him even harder. But after all this time, she still didn't know if he was falling in love with her too.

Long after Dean felt asleep, Y/N was still lying awake in bed. There was to much going on in her head. She looked over to Dean and tears began to burn in her eyes. As much as she liked the man next to her, this was not what she wanted. Sometimes he was so secretive and she felt like she didn't even know him. It was as if he didn't want to let her into his heart. As if he didn't want to let her share his feelings.

And so, Y/N knew what she needed to do. She needed to get out of here for a while. Needed to get away from Dean and this entrenched situation. A little distance would probably be the best for now. And with this resolution she stood up. Quietly, to not wake up Dean, she put on her clothes and grabbed her stuff. With one last glance back she decided to write him a little note and a minute later she was out of his bedroom.

On her way out of the bunker she passed by the kitchen. The lights were on and when she looked into the room, she saw Sam sitting on the table, his laptop infront of him and a fresh cup of coffee next to it. He looked up after hearing steps, but smiled as soon as he saw it was Y/N.

"Hey! You still awake?" Y/N asked as soon as Sam noticed her.

"Yeah! Yeah, Cas just called. He is on a case in Michigan and needed some help. So, I try to find him some answers."

Y/N only nodded as she took a few steps into the kitchen and smiled. She admired the cohesion the boys shared. They always helped eachother out if needed. Sam on the other hand noticed her backpack that hung from her right sholder and frowned a litte.

"Are you going somewhere? It's still early in the morning?" the younger Winchester asked and directed his attention fully to her.

"Oh, ehm..." Y/N needed to think fast, 'cause she didn't want to lie to Sam. "... I totally forgot that a good friend of mine invited me to her birthday party tomorrow. And since she lives in Jamestown..."

Upon that realization Sam nodded his head. "... it's a long drive to North Dakota."

"Yup." she agreed.

And it was not even a lie. Her friend Lizzy would celebrate her birthday, but just not for four days. Y/N had already texted her friend to let her know, that she would be there a little earlier and when Lizzy would read the message in a few hours she definitly wouldn't mind it. Since they haven't seen eachother in a long time.

"You know, you could've taken a flight down there too." he suggested and stood up from his place.

"Yeah, but I... actually like to drive. You know? Blasting my music, rolled down windows and the wind blows through my hair..."

"Alright, alright." Sam chuckled. "Dean says the same things, so I get it."

Now it was Y/N who laughed a little. But just the thought of the man who owned her heart, stung to some degree. Maybe she should've just talked to him, instead of running away, but she really didn't know how. The one thing she didn't want, was to mess their relationship up. If this even was a relationship.

"Doesn't Dean at least say goodbye to you?" the tall man questioned, while he looked out into the hallway.

"No!" she blurted out way to fast, what gave her an confused look of Sam. "No, but it's okay. We... have been really busy... you know? So... he needs his beauty sleep."

She said and did some randomly gestures with her hands, so that Sam knew right away what she exactly meant. He cleared his throat and scratched the back of his head, getting a little shy.

"Okay, alright. I don't wanna know... that... actually."

They both laughed and inside Y/N were relieved, that he seemed to believe her. Both of them fell silent again and before she could change her mind, Y/N moved forward and hugged Sam goodbye.

"Don't be up to long. Get some sleep, okay?"

Sam hugged her back, the weird feeling in his gut ignoring for now.

"Don't worry, Y/N. I will."

And without looking back again, she made her way down to the garage to get into her car and leave Lebanon behind her.

Dean didn't know what startled him awake, but when he opend his eyes, the sun had just begun to rise over the horizon. He searched his bedside with his hand automatically, but his eyes followed right away. The place where Y/N had slept just some hours ago was already empty. And cold. Only a little note was laying on the pillow, saying that she was gone for a few days. He sat up and noticed right away that her clothes and backpack were gone, too. What was going on?

The older Winchester got out of his bed and went out into the hallway to look for his girlfriend. But he didn't get to far before Sam appeared infront him on his way to his room, yawning his heart out.

"Hey!" he made himself known. "Have you seen Y/N?"

"Oh, hey Dean." answered Sam a little confused and stopped in his tracks when he reached his brother. "She... went out to her friend. Did she... did she not tell you that?"

Dean huffed. "All I got is this little piece of paper." holding the note up to show it to Sam.

"Dean... did something happen between the two of you?"

"What? No!" he blurted out right away, but the look on Sam's face got him a little worried. "Why?"

Sam relaxed his shoulders a little and shook his head in thought. "I don't know... I've met her in the kitchen before she went out and... I had a weird feeling. You know? She... she didn't seem herself... in a way. As if she... was a little on edge?"

"What?" now Dean was confused. "But eveything was fine when we went to sleep."

To that Sam had no idea what else he could say and a weird silence fell between the two men.

"Alright. I'll try calling her. Thanks, Sam."

"Oh, not... not at all."

But Dean didn't hear that anymore. He was already back in his room, grabbing for his phone.

Y/N was finally able to breath. It was a freeing feeling that she had really needed. Lizzy was surprised that she came over so early for her birthday but she didn't complain either. They had know each other for so many years now, that she was happy to get some alone time with her dear friend.

The only times that Y/N felt a little bit guilty was when Dean texted or tried to call her. She was still not ready to take his calls, because she knew that she would give in the second she heared his beautiful voice. She missed him, though. A lot. She missed him so much, that her heart hurt and screamed his name. So that's why she only answerd his messages, eventhough her answers were short and vague. He knew now where exactly she was, but she also asked of him to wait for her to come back. That she just wanted to spent some long needed time with her friends. And he accepted it.

Now, the birthday party was in full swing and banished her bad thoughts. They all laughed, drank a little and just had a really good time. The girls were sitting outside in the backyard of Lizzys house and enjoyed the fairly warm weather. The hours were passing by quickly and for the first time in the last months Y/N felt carefree. But the later the evening got and the more alcohol flowed, the more intimate the conversations became.

Late at night, there were only Lizzy, Y/N and Cathy, another good friend of the girls, left. And Cathy was very expressive, especially about men. She had just told some funny anecdotes about her past relationships and they were all laughing a good amount. But she also talked about her problems with the new man in her life, named Mike. He was older than her and they came from two very different backrounds. But love had still struck them.

"So, it's all good now? With you and Mike?" Lizzy asked.

"Yeah! Yeah, I talked to him. I just had to and he understood it."

Lizzy saw the lightly confused look on Y/N's face and explained. "Cathy had a little problem with their sexlife and she was debating for quite some time if she should say something or not."

'Huh...' Y/N thought. As it seemed she was not the only one who had those problems.

"Our sex was really boring, you know? Like, reeeeaaaally booooring. I mean, I like it slow and intense sometimes, too. It's not a bad thing. But I also really needed the rough sex. You know? When you're just so pent up and you need to release some stress... a good hard pounding can do wonders, right? " Cathy continued speaking and laughed. "And you two know me. I've always been open about what I like and what not. But with Mike... it was difficult, you know?"

"And how did it... go?" Y/N asked.

She didn't know why she asked that, when she didn't even want to talk about it. But maybe this was the right moment. Maybe she should take advantage of this moment and talk to her friends about her problems too.

"Good, actually. Well, I was really nervous in the beginning, 'cause I truly like the guy, you know? But That was also the reason why I wanted to talk to him."

"Yeah..." Y/N agreed, but had to think about her own situation with Dean. Maybe she made this all into a much bigger thing than it acutally was. "...yeah."

But Lizzy noticed the change in her friend right away. She saw the change in her mood and it got her worried a bit. She had asked Y/N about Dean and how their relationship developed, but she didn't fully answer her question.

"Y/N? You okay?"

That question brought back her attention to her friends and she sat herself up a little straighter.

"Yes... I am." she tried to mask it, but Cathy saw right through it.

"Well, THAT sounded convincing..." Cathy turned around and asked silently for an explanation.

"Y/N, girl... you can talk to us." Lizzy tried and then Y/N just felt the urge to talk to her friends what was on her mind.

"Okay, okay, ehm..." now she felt ridicoulous in a way. "Dean and I... it's mostly good, you know? We get along really well and he swepped me of my feet right away..." she smiled, but that faded quickly.

"There is just one thing... and I don't know what to do abut it..." she shook her head and took a sip of her wine, like trying to steal herself. "I get what you're saying, Cathy. About the rough sex and all. I do like that too, but..."

She felt so awkward talking about this, but she also knew that her friends would not judge her or talk her down in any way. And maybe they could give her advice on how to navigate that ship safely into the haven.

"Okay, I'm just gonna say it." with a deep sigh Y/N kept talking. "When I first talked to Dean about the things I like in bed I also told him that I do like it rough sometimes. And with a charming smile he tried to live up to that. We tried different things until we found a grove we both liked, you know?"

Lizzy and Cathy shared a quick look as if they already knew what was coming next over her lips.

"But since then... rough and hard sex is all that's left. It's like... nothing else is existing anymore. We stopped going on dates, we are not talking to eachother anymore like we did in the first few months... all we do when we meet is eat something and then... on into the bedroom."

"Y/N..." Cathy said, but the woman continued talking.

"Don't get me wrong: He is not hurting me or forcing himself on to me or any of that. Not at all. I do like that kind of sex and he knows my body like a violin. But... it feels like it's just sex and nothing more. No romance, no emotional intimacy, no... connection. You know what I mean? And I miss that. I miss the slow, passionate sex. The lingering touches and the soft kisses... we don't have that anymore."

"Do you love him?" Cathy asked after a moment where noone knew what to say and Y/N did not have to think about it.

"Yeah. I do." and that truth hurt.

"Then you should definitly talk to him. Tell him how you feel and that you need more. This is not something you can just... sit out, you know?"

"But... that's the problem. I... I just don't know how. He seems so content and I don't wanna ruin our relationship by causing an maybe unnecessary problem."

"But it's never unnecessary to talk about the way you feel and try to improve your relationship with him. And when Dean loves you too, then he should have no problems with that, right?" Lizzy asked.

Y/N wanted to agree. It made so much sense hearing this from her friends and now she was wondering why she did not just try it. She was even questioning her behavier right know in leaving Dean and not telling him why. Her mind was racing and she felt tears starting to burn her eyes.

"Dean does love you... right?" Lizzy wondered.

But Y/N could not reply right away to her friend. She wiped the tears from her cheek that were now rolling down her face.

"Honestly, I... I don't know..."

After that relevation the other two girls came over and embraced Y/N into a big hug. But none of the three ladies saw the green eyed man that stood in the shadows, looking into the backyard and balling his fists, while he eavesdropped the whole conversation and tried to hold back his own tears.

"You need to talk to him, Y/N."

"I know, Lizzy. I will."

"And if he doesn't understand it, then he is not the right guy for you."

The little goodbye scene kept playing over and over in Y/N's head. She had really awesome friends who tried to help and protect her and in the end, this little hide out was what she had needed. Because one thing became really clear to her and that was that she loved Dean. Her heart was his and she wanted at least fight for it.

But now, sitting in her car in the bunker's garage, nine hours later her nerves were starting to get to her. Maybe Dean was angry with her for leaving him so suddenly. Maybe he didn't wanted to talk to her anymore. Maybe, maybe, maybe...

She took a deep breath and stealed herself before she finally got out. With her bag over her right shoulder Y/N stepped into the war room, but the bunker layed erriely dark and quiet. Putting her bag down she went to look for Dean or Sam, but could not find any of the men right away. Which was weird, because she had told Dean that she would be back this evening. When she went down the hallway to the bedrooms she saw a light after turnig the corner to where the Dean Cave was.

Her heart started to race a little, but when she reached the door and opened it, she didn't know what to say or think. The room was enlightened by a lot of candles. The two armchairs were standing on a wall and a big pull out couch had took in their place. On a sidetable were some brugers, fries, drinks and an apple pie, ready to be eaten. What was happening?

By the sound of Dean clearing his throat Y/N was startled a little, but her eyes found him only seconds later. He was wearing dark Jeans, a black shirt and her favorite brown and grey checkered button down. He smiled, but also he seemed almost a little shy.

"What..." Y/N couldn't quite believe it and was touched at the same time.

"To much?" he asked with a wry grin.

"No! No, I... love it."and she really did, her heart was mealting on the spot. "But... why?"

Dean sighed. "Okay." he came over to her and took her hands in his.

But he did not really know how to start this conversation. In his mind he had time to think about it and in the end he had decided to just wing it, when the moment came. Only now this idea was probably not the best one he ever had.

"I'm so bad at this..." he grumbled to himself, but Y/N had still heared him. "I'm sorry... Y/N."

The woman furrowed her brows a little in confusion. "What?"

"I should've noticed something. I should've realized that... something was not right between us."

"Dean..."

"I know I've been really busy lately with my work. We didn't have a lot of time for us and... god, I should've at least noticed the signs during our sex...."

Now Y/N took a step back and looked at the man infront of her questioningly. "What do you mean?"

Dean's eyes widened. "Crap..." he uttered and scratched his head. "I, ehm... after you'd been gone for four days, I followed you to Jamestown to see you."

"You did?"

"I felt like I had to. You didn't answer my calls and I had the impression that you were pulling away from me. That I was about to lose you. So I wanted to talk to you one last time."

"But..." now she was really confused. "I did not see you. You weren't there..."

"I was... but I didn't get the chance to make myself known. You were sitting outside... with your friends..."

She needed a moment before she realized what he just had said. He was there and had heared everything she was explaning to Lizzy and Cathy. He knew it now. He knew what was going on in her.

"Oh god..." an uncomfortable feeling rose within her and she touched her forehand to collect her thoughts. "I wanted to talk to you, Dean. I really wanted to. But I just didn't know how and I didn't want to..."

"I love you." Dean cut her off. "Y/N... I love you."

His words started to sink in and tears began to build in her eyes.

"I should've told you that way sooner, but... like I said, I'm really not good at this. But that's not a good excuse either. And I don't wanna lose you over something that we can fix without any problems."

He touched her cheek and tried to catch the now falling tears with his thump.

"You are so important to me... and I hope you will never feel like you can't talk to me again.

And to prove his point, he kissed her. A little cautious at first, but Y/N gave in right away and so he could deepen the kiss. It felt so good, she had really missed that, but she was still a little nervous. She layed her arms around his neck and buried her hands in his hair. Dean embraced her into a tight hug and moved from her lips to her neck. She moaned softly and goosebumps rose all over her body.

His hands slowly made their way down to her hips and landed on her bottom. He gentle squeezed and massaged her ass, while she rubbed herself on him. It felt like they were back at the beginning months ago, when they started dating. The lingering touches, the soft moans. As if they had all the time in the world.

Their clothes fell slowly piece by piece to the floor and after Dean brought Y/N down on the couch, the underwear was all that was left. But Dean kept holding her tightly in his arms, kissed her slowly but very passionately. Legs and arms intertwined it felt like they were trying to become one, not just physically but with their minds, too. Like Dean tried to connect their souls with eachother.

When the rest of the fabric fell, Dean kept eye contact while he entered her with slow and deep strokes. He moved with passion and desire as he put his hand under her hip to change the angle, to be even deeper connected to his girl.

"I love you." he said again, after he picked up some speed.

"I love you, too." Y/N answered as she came closer and closer to her climax.

And while they both came undone, her heart was bursting with love for this man, who loved her back just as much.

A/N: I don't know why, but I really loved this. 🥰 I hope you liked it too. And to anyone who came across this, let me know what you think. I'd appreciate it. 😊

@lyarr24 @leigh70 @k-slla

[readerthatreadsss]

Worth The Wait | Steven Grant

(Inspired by the song of the same title by Kali Uchis)

Pairing: Steven Grant x fem!reader

Word Count: 6.2k

Summary: You and Steven have been roommates for a while now. But one night after being stood up by yet another guy in a string of dates gone wrong, Steven offers you some support...which sparks an interesting chain of events.

Warnings[18+ activities MDNI]: sub! (ish) Steven, dom! (ish) reader, fools in love, friends/roommates to lovers, mentions of drunk reader (but not drunk when they actually have sex, you'll see), crying (reader's drunk and starts venting for a bit, that's all), unprotected p in v sex (cloak the joker before you poke her), oral sex (steven and r receiving), Steven doubting himself mid-sex, assertive reader and awkward Steven! , choking (r receiving), riding, creampie, barely edited cause I'm really fuckin tired.

A/N: Hi. Don't ask me where I found the time or motivation to write this shit when school started back a month ago. The idea just popped into my head and my fingers didn't stop moving once I opened a draft. Note, I have a tall fem! reader x Steven in my drafts to finish so don't think I forgot!

"Steeeeven," knock knock knock, "STEVENNNN," knock knock knock−

Steven's brows furrowed beneath his reading glasses at the sound of your voice coming from outside your shared apartment door. Concern as well as confusion sprang through him instantly. You sounded drunk. Which he was sure to be the case seeing as you were sloppily knocking at the door rather than opening it with your keys.

He quickly shut the book he was reading and removed his glasses before making his way over to the door in fear that your next call of his name would wake the entire building.

Unfortunately, he opened the door at the very moment you launched your hand forward to knock once more. This caused you to tumble through the door with a drunken yelp. But Steven caught you in his arms before your body could hit the ground.

You looked up at him with a lazy smile and hooded eyes. "Thanks, Stevie bear," you hiccuped, using both hands to cling onto one of his very defined biceps. You had never realized how big and firm they were before that moment.

"You're welcome," Steven replied worriedly. He swiftly shut the door with his foot and used your grip on his arm to bring you standing back on your feet. "Y/n what the bloody hell happened to your date?"

You rolled your eyes at his question, kicking off your heels and making your way over to the couch without somehow falling again. "See now, Steven," you paused and pointed at him drunkenly, "it can't be a date if the said date doesn't even bother to show up!" you explained.

Steven sighed deeply at your explanation as he sat on the other end of the couch. This wasn't the first time this had happened to you—or him for that matter—but he could never understand why. You were easily one of the most beautiful women in London, and definitely one of the smartest, (your framed Ph.D. in psychology hanging over the television was evidence of that). You were the full package and more. Any man would be lucky to have you.

But the men of London were clearly morons if they kept standing you up or acting like complete knobs to you on your dates.

He would never do that to you. But he's seen photos of your past dates. A woman like you was way out of his league and would never go for someone like him, anyone with eyes could see that.

"How much have you had to drink?" Steven suddenly asked you.

You raised 3 fingers to the best of your ability. "Six," you answered before bursting into a fit of giggles at Steven's expression.

"Gosh, y/n, you're absolutely clobbered," he grabbed a blanket from the arm of the couch and spread it over where your short skin-tight dress was riding up your thighs.

"Well I didn't lie," you sat up abruptly, throwing the blanket off your lap and turning to face Steven and sit as crosslegged as your dress would allow, "Three of the drinks were margaritas...the other three were shots of vodka though," you admitted softly as if it were some secret for only yours and Steven's ears.

"Do you have work in the morning?" Steven questioned gently, picking up the blanket and handing it back to you. Your dress was riding up with every slight movement you made, which meant more of your thighs being exposed to him. Despite this, Steven wouldn't dare look anywhere except your eyes.

"Nope." You threw the blanket back on the floor. The night was pretty warm, you don't understand why Steven keeps giving it to you.

"Do you want me to make you some coffee or tea?"

"Yup."

Steven looked at you in question for a few seconds. "Which one?" he prodded, fighting back a smile at your muddled state.

You moved closer and narrowed your eyes, "Which one of what?" you questioned, truly confused, before breaking out into another fit of drunken giggles that caused you to momentarily tumble forward and land your hands on Steven's thighs.

"Coffee it is then," Steven answered for you, his voice traveling up an octave. He then carefully moved your hand from his thighs, trying to ignore the chills your touch sent up his spine, and hightailed it to the kitchen to put on the percolator for you.

You tilted your head as he walked away, noting how quickly he left.

When Steven returned with your cup of coffee (with cream and no sugar just how you liked it), he found you seated in the same spot but with his blanket draped over your head and body while soft sniffles and sobs met his ears.

He placed your cup on the table nearby and carefully approached your figure on the couch. Steven reached for the blanket and slowly removed it from your body.

"Why are you crying, love?" he sweetly asked once your face came into view.

"Because I'm a mess," you sniffled, using a hand to wipe the trail of tears falling from your eyes.

Steven's head tilted in disbelief at your words. "You don't really believe that, do you?"

"Yes I do," you nodded fervently, "It's why my dates have sucked for the past 2 months, it's why I got passed over for that goddamn promotion at work last week, and it's why you can't stand being around me for longer than 3 minutes these days."

Steven was taken aback by your words. You thought he couldn't stand to be around you? That's impossible.

"You practically sprinted to the kitchen!" you added after a few moments of silence.

"To make you coffee," Steven protested, gesturing to the cup lying untouched nearby.

"I saw your face," you looked down at where your hands lay in your lap.

Steven swallowed harshly. "Y/n."

You ignored his call for your attention.

"Look at me," he came closer and entangled his hands with your own in your lap, immediately causing you to look up at him with tear-stained eyes, "You are not a mess," he softly yet sternly said to you.

"Yes I am−"

"No. You are not," he interrupted your arguing, "Your dates? They're all losers for letting you slip through their hands. And if a few bad dates is fate's way of making you wait to find the one, then I think that's well worth the holdup, yeah?"

You chewed on your bottom lip anxiously before nodding in agreement.

"And as for my behavior earlier, it was−" Steven paused with a sigh fumbling for a sensible excuse, "it's your perfume."

You pulled a face that would have made Steven laugh under normal circumstances. "My perfume? You hate my perfume?"

Steven swallowed harshly. He hated lying. He wasn't even good at it. But convincing you that he couldn't bear your perfume was easier than admitting that he just couldn't handle the way your hands felt on his thighs or the way his entire body heated up when you leaned closer to him. "Yup. The smell was too much for me," he fibbed.

You rested your head in your palms, pouting slightly. "But you're the only reason I wear this perfume, Steven," you confessed, barely audible.

Steven's face fell. "What?"

"You told me that you liked it when I moved in and from then I kept buying it just because you liked it."

Steven's heart swelled at your admission. He felt like an asshole. He was no better than the losers you'd been going on dates with.

You continued to speak. You could feel words preparing to leave your lips that have been eating at you for a while, now guided by your lowered inhibitions. "And I didn't only mean just now. These past few weeks you can barely look me in my eyes, or be near me, Steven. What am I doing wrong?" your voice broke with your last words.

Steven had seen you cry a few times before. But this time was different. The look on your face was heart-wrenching. He couldn't believe that he made you feel like this.

Because he was having trouble dealing with his own feelings for you, he made you think he hated you...when it was the complete opposite.

"There's nothing wrong with you. It's all my fault," Steven said, breaking away from your gaze, feeling it pierce through him.

"I'm the one who was dumb enough to fall in love with you..." he added, only to look up and see you passed out against the arm of the couch.

A part of him was saddened that you fell asleep before hearing his confession. But another was grateful and profoundly unprepared for your inevitable rejection.

Steven looked at you for a few more seconds before carefully picking you up—smiling to himself when you curled into his chest—and carrying you to your bedroom.

° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

You woke up in a slight daze...and in someone else's bed.

It took a few glances around the room for you to piece together that you were in Steven's room.

And then all of last night's events came back to mind, seeping in and clearing the fog that your excessive alcohol consumption had sired;

Your failed date. Coming home and falling into Steven's arms. Saying way too much to Steven. Steven's last words before your body shut down.

Steven.

Steven.

Steven.

"Oh God," you mumbled, cradling your face in your hands.

Eventually, you pulled yourself out of the bed and stumbled into the bathroom for a shower. You thanked whatever higher power was at work that Steven was still asleep on the couch when you padded through the living room.

But when you finished showering and exited the bathroom, you were hit with the smell of freshly brewed coffee. You poked your head into the living room to make sure Steven was still in the kitchen before running a path straight to your room and getting dressed.

After throwing on one of your old university crew necks and the first shorts you could get your hands on (which happened to be very short ones), you heard a knock at your door followed by Steven's voice.

"Y/N? I have a cup of green tea and some painkillers here...thought you'd need them."

You found yourself smiling at the sound of his voice, something that was becoming more common in recent weeks. What did you do to deserve a man like Steven in your life?

You quickly moved to open the door and let Steven in. "Hey, Steven," you greeted him with a small smile.

He released a nervous chuckle as he presented a cup and two pills to you. "Good morning."

You took them happily, bringing them to your night table. "I'm not actually feeling very hungover," you said to him, turning to sit on your bed.

"Really? That's surprising...considering last night," Steven replied, taking a hesitant step further into your room.

"Yeah must be my tolerance and all that," you shrugged, taking interest in how Steven had yet to meet your eyes since you opened the door.

A beat of silence passed between you while you took a sip of your tea. "Steven, you can sit," you softly spoke, gesturing to your bed.

"Oh, sure," Steven took a seat at the farthest edge of your bed, maintaining a more than comfortable space between you.

"How'd I end up in your bed this morning?" you suddenly questioned. You were genuinely curious, but the reaction it garnered from Steven was more than worth it.

After a brief clear of his throat, Steven answered, "Well you sorta climbed into my bed in the middle of the night, gave me quite a scare actually, and I wanted to give you space to rest so I let you have my bed and I slept in the couch."

"Oh, I'm sorry," you frowned, a tinge of embarrassment seeping in, "Why didn't you sleep in my bed?"

"Because..." laying in your bed that smells flawlessly like you would've sent him into cardiac arrest- "the couch is more comfortable."

You nodded in understanding, placing your half-empty teacup back on the table.

"If you uh need anything," Steven stood up from your bed, slowly walking backward to the door, "just shout," he said as he turned to open the door.

"Did you mean it?"

Steven halted in place at your words, his back still facing you.

You slid off your bed and approached his oddly still figure.

Steven's throat ran dry. There's no way you could have actually heard him. Right? "What?" is all he managed to say.

You walked past him and used a hand to close the door, coming to stand in front of him. You needed to look at his face. Living with Steven for a year has taught you that he wasn't a man of many words but his face said more than enough when he couldn't. Drunk you couldn't utilize your psych degree the night before, but sober you sure could at that moment.

"Did you mean it?" you repeated, "When you said you fell in love with me?"

Steven's jaw slackened when he met your stare, that feeling of being pierced by your gaze returning. "I-"

Your eyes narrowed as you took a step closer to him, now being close enough for his nervous breaths to fan across your lips. "Because if you meant it then I would tell you that. I think..." you paused and looked away for a moment, "No, I know that I love you too."

Steven's hooded brown eyes widened. He blinked a few times, trying to will himself to wake up if this was a dream.

You bit back a small laugh at his expression before you continued. "I love how willing you were to rent some small-time therapist your extra bedroom because you heard her crying in the corner of a coffee shop that she'd been kicked out by her stupid ex-boyfriend. I love the mugs you buy me every month because you saw them and they reminded you of me. I love how you watch shitty action movies with me after every bad date I have because you want to take my mind off them. I love how much you care about...everything really. I love you, Steven Grant," an enlightened smile rested on your face as you spoke, "and I'm sorry that I spent the past year thinking everything you made me feel was platonic when the truth was that you made me feel things that no one else has. I'm an idiot Steven-"

"No," Steven's first word came, a relieved smile accompanying it, "You are not an idiot. You are the smartest person I've ever met. Smarter than me, that's for sure," at that, you both laughed, "I've spent this whole year thinking that you would never see me as anything more than your weird, boring roommate...and turns out you loved me this whole time," he ended in a soft whisper, shocked by his own conclusion. Steven found his eyes drifting down to your lips and you immediately took note of it.

You exhaled deeply before closing the gap between you and Steven, meeting his lips in a bold kiss.

Initially stunned, Steven sunk into your lips soon after, gently bringing his hands up to rest on the sides of your face.

Your brain fogged as Steven devoured your lips, an unusual confidence taking over him. You wrapped your hands around his neck and smiled into the kiss, allowing Steven to slip his tongue past your lips, tasting more of you and pulling a moan from your chest.

Steven pulled away first, feeling himself enter a state that he wouldn't dare himself to in your presence. You bit back a whine when his lips left yours, looking up at him in confusion.

"We don't have to do this if you don't want to," he spoke, taking a step away from you.

You licked your lips and stepped towards him. "Steven, trust me, I want to do this. I want to do a lot more than this actually," you pulled his waist flush against your body, drawing a shared moan from you both when his growing bulge pressed against your stomach.

Steven's hands flew up to grab the back of your neck and your jaw. He softly muttered your name, as a warning more than anything else.

You leaned in and pressed a kiss against the corner of his lips. "If you say no, we will stop this right now and go eat breakfast. But if you say yes, we are gonna stay here and I'm gonna let you do very bad things to my body."

Steven swallowed harshly. "God, yes," he replied, failing to swallow back a whimper at the implication of your words.

Your hands squeezed his waist as you moved back to look at his face fully. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear that Stevie," you smirked.

Steven looked down at you with adoration clear in his eyes. He couldn't believe this was really about to happen. He used his hold on your neck to pull your lips crashing into his. This kiss was a lot more hungrier than the first, with Steven now making his intentions much clearer.

"I'll take that as a yes," you grinned between kisses.

Steven groaned his agreement as he continued to kiss you.

You used your grip on his waist to push him back towards your bed, effectively breaking your kiss and causing him to land on the edge of your bed with a grunt.

Steven looked up at you through his lashes in awe as you approached him. He watched keenly as you removed your top, wearing nothing underneath, before moving to straddle his thighs. Steven made a move to touch your chest before stopping his shaky hands midair and looking at you in question.

You gently held Steven's chin up and smiled down at him. "Steven you can touch me," you reassured him. Even in an intimate moment like this, he was ever the gentleman...

Steven indulged with a sheepish smile and brought both his palms to each of your breasts. Unable to help himself, Steven dove in and took one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the hardened bud.

"Fuck, Steven," you moaned, eyes slamming shut at how good it felt. Your words only seemed to egg him on further as Steven switched to your other breast, his lips and tongue moving against it with more enthusiasm.

Your hands at the back of his neck grabbed fistfuls of his curls while his ministrations against your chest pulled more moans and whines from your lips.

Some time after, you pulled Steven's lips away from your breasts and met them in a searing kiss, pressing your clothed cunt down against his erection. "Shit," Steven lowly cursed, bringing his hands to your waist to grind you down further against his bulge.

You obliged with a moan, grinding in Steven's lap harder. "Tell me what you want, Steven," you whispered against his lips.

Steven's hands squeezed your waist harshly when your lips began sucking against his throat. He could barely put together thoughts at the moment, much less words.

You trailed a hand down to the waistband of Steven's sweats and slowly reached under it for his cock. You swallowed a moan when your hand traced his full length and girth. "You've been holding out on me Steven," you chuckled against his neck.

Steven blushed furiously at your words. "Thank you?" he responded awkwardly, barely functioning with your hand rubbing along his cock.

You chuckled once again, pulling away from his neck to look at him. "You're so pretty," you said, causing another wave of red to hit Steven's cheeks.

"No one's ever said that to me before," he admitted softly.

"Well that's okay, cause I want to be the only one who makes you blush like this," you grinned brushing a stray curl from his forehead, "I bet your cock is just as pretty," your hand picked up speed beneath Steven's pants, "Can I see it? Please?"

Steven nodded enthusiastically. "Anything you want," he said with a desperation that had your pussy throbbing with need. You briefly lifted your hips allowing Steven to clumsily slide off his sweatpants and boxers and step out of them.

Once you returned to your position on his thighs, you looked down at his cock, the head already dripping with small beads of precum. The length was truly unexpected, as well as the girth. You would do anything to feel him inside you.

But for now, you really wanted to taste him.

Steven watched you sink to your knees before him, your eyes never straying from his.

"Are you sure you want to-"

"Steven you said anything I wanted," you paused, gliding your fingers over his length and watching it twitch in response, "And I really want to taste you. Can I suck your cock, Steven?"

Steven's breathing picked up as he took in the image before him; you on your knees, touching his dick while literally begging to suck it with a look in your eyes he could only compare to the look of a wild female tiger eyeing her freshly caught meal in the nature documentary he watched the week before.

"Please, please do," his response came soon after.

You began with a kiss to the head of his cock that made it immediately jump in your hand. You couldn't help but chuckle, and it was a sound that Steven hoped would be the last thing he heard before he left this earth. "You're so sensitive, Stevie," you cooed before pressing another kiss but to the base of his length.

Steven released a sharp moan at both of your kisses to his cock, finding himself embarrassingly close to cumming already.

"Please," he pleaded your name with a whine, "stop teasing."

You swirled your tongue around the head where precum had gathered, moaning in time with your movements and drawing yet another mewl from Steven. "Oh but Stevie, I just love hearing you say please," you teased him, looking up from where you had a hand wrapped around his base and another briefly caressing his balls.

Steven was now panting, his eyes never leaving you as you held him. He watched you slowly wrap your lips around his tip before slowly sinking down.

After reaching a little more than halfway down Steven's cock, you felt yourself gag but simply stilled instead of removing yourself completely.

"Fucking hell," Steven grunted before melding into a pathetic moan once you held your position. You eventually let up when you almost ran out of air and slowly removed your lips from his dick, your eyes meeting his with tears streaming along your face from the stretch.

You were prepared to do it once again but felt Steven's palm grab your chin before you could. "No, love, please. If you do that again I'm afraid I'm not gonna last."

Steven watched you lick your lips before shifting to trap his thumb in between your lips and softly suck on it. He couldn't stop the whine that slipped his lips at your action.

You eventually released his thumb from the confines of your mouth and came to stand over him with a smile. "Well then. Tell me what you want to do next. I'm all yours, baby, remember?"

Steven brought his hands to rest on your hips and leaned forward to press a soft kiss against your stomach. "I-uhh," his brows furrowed and he shook his head briefly as if sending away a thought.

"What is it, Steven?"

The man beneath you looked up to meet your eager eyes, suddenly confident enough to say what he wanted. "I really...really want to taste you."

You felt your breath hitch at his request. It was rare for a man to enthusiastically offer to go down on you. Though it was clear to you now that Steven was most definitely a rare man.

"You want to?" you felt your voice come out a lot more unsure than usual.

Steven's brows furrowed once again as a fleeting smile graced his lips at your response. "Of course I do, sweetheart. Do men not usually..."

You harshly exhaled. "I mean some do but I usually have to complain first or they do it cause they want me to return the favor," you admitted.

"They don't deserve you. No one does," Steven softly uttered, gazing up at you with eyes you were growing more fond of by the minute.

You quickly leaned down to meet him in a kiss in response. You didn't deserve him either.

Steven pulled you back into his lap and kissed you back eagerly. But he was the first to pull away, causing you to whine in a way that made his cock jump against your cunt. "I-I really did mean it, love, I need to taste you. Now."

You had never seen Steven so demanding. It had you throbbing in anticipation. You allowed him to lay you on your back and peel away your shorts and panties to reveal the part of you where you needed him most.

Steven looked starstruck as he examined your arousal. He moved closer and closer to your pussy, letting his warm breath fan over your glistening lips.

"Steven please-" you begged, though you couldn't finish your thought before your voice broke into a loud moan when Steven licked a stripe from your entrance to your swollen clit.

Steven closed his eyes, relishing his first taste of you. It was everything he'd quite literally dreamed of and more.

And so, he eagerly dived into your core.

Your hands flew to Steven's head working between your legs as your thighs instinctively closed around his head from the sudden wave of pleasure surging through you.

The feeling of your thighs trapping his head against your pussy was absolute bliss to Steven. He moaned into you as his tongue swirled around your clit sloppily. If he was inexperienced, you couldn't tell because every movement of his tongue brought you closer and closer to your release.

The vibrations of Steven's enjoyment drew a brief scream from your chest before you slapped a hand over your lips to silence it.

Steven finally came up for air, his lips and jaws covered in your slick. His curls were strewn along his forehead by a damp layer of sweat as his dilated pupils met your own. "C'mon. I want to hear those pretty noises you make for me, love," he said before running two of his fingers through your folds to gather some of your wetness and slowly inserting them into you.

"Oh my-STEVEN" your back arched up and off your bed as you felt immediately filled up by Steven's digits.

Steven gauged your reactions as he slowly removed his fingers before pushing them again with no resistance due to your arousal. "I've wanted this for so long, love," he began to speak as he slowly leaned down to press his lips against your clit in a kiss, "Wanted to hear you moaning my name," he sped up his fingers' movements inside you, "Wanted to taste you," he added another finger, now touching that spot inside your walls with every thrust, "You're so beautiful," he ended before fully diving back in with his tongue against your bud.

"Yes—fuck—you're so good to me baby," you finally gathered enough breath to speak while gaining a proper grip on his head. With every sharp lick or nip he'd make, you would tighten your grip on his hair and it would only spur him on further. It was only a matter of seconds from there before...

"Shit, I'm gonna cum, Steven," you called out, looking down to meet where he was already staring up at you, and speeding up his fingers and tongue's ministrations against you.

He held your stare once he felt your walls clench around his fingers and heard your moan melt into a scream.

"Fuck, fuck, FUCK," you shouted as your orgasm slammed into you thanks to Steven's eager tongue and fingers.

Steven watched your chest slow its heaving when your climax subsided and removed his fingers but couldn't stop himself from licking the remnants of your release from your folds. It was as if he was trying to work you up to another orgasm.

"Shit Steven wait," you mewled, attempting to close your legs from overstimulation. But Steven used strength you'd never known him to have to shove your legs back open and hold them in place, clearly intent on tasting every bit of what you had to offer.

Your eyes widened. "Holy fuck," you removed both your hands from Steven's head and ran them over your face and boobs. He was driving you absolutely insane. If it weren't for his grip on your legs you would be trembling beneath him.

It wasn't long before a second orgasm crept up on you, one more powerful than the last. Your lips parted in a silent scream as your climax washed over your entire body, from your thighs to your feet, to the base of your fucking spine.

Steven couldn't help but stare as he cleaned you up for the last time with his tongue. He couldn't believe he got to see this. To make you feel like this.

Your high subsided soon after and you released a sharp exhale followed by a laugh of disbelief.

Steven moved from his position on his knees before you to hover above you on your bed. "You okay, love?" he questioned in concern

You responded to his question with a satisfied grin. "I'm great, Stevie," you spoke before meeting his lips in a sweet kiss, "But..."

Steven's face fell at your words. He slowly moved from above you to lay next to you, scared to meet your eyes. "I did something wrong didn't I? Or did I forget to do something? I'm sorry-" he rambled, immediately doubting himself.

But his words died in his throat when you turned and caressed his cheek with a hand, your grin still present on your face. "You did nothing wrong," you insisted, "That was no doubt one of the best orgasms of my entire life."

Steven looked away and laughed at your confession. "You don't have to say that to make me feel better."

"I mean it, Steven," your voice grew stern, "That was fucking incredible."

Steven couldn't even formulate a response.

"What I was going to say was," you broke his silence, "I promised you could do bad things to my body and you haven't done nearly enough for me," you ended with a smirk.

Steven grunted when he felt your fingertips run along his cock.

"Don't you want to fuck me, Steven?" you questioned innocently while completely wrapping your hand around and stroking Steven's dick.

He nodded quickly, his bottom lip held between his teeth as he tried not to react to how soft your hand felt around his painfully hard cock. "I do. So badly, love."

You released him and brought a hand over to grab Steven's neck before using your grip to pull him back to his previous position above you. "Then fuck me, Steven. I need you to fuck me," you whispered.

Steven wasted no time in grabbing his length and lining himself up with your entrance. "Are you sure?" he checked in with you once more.

You jerked your hip in the direction of his cock in an effort to fill yourself up but to no avail. You were so damn desperate you didn't care how you sounded. "Yes Steven, please, I need you to fill me up. Fill me up baby, c'mon," you whined hurriedly.

"Well who am I to deny you of what you want, love?" he replied before slowly guiding himself into you.

He immediately groaned at the feeling of your walls squeezing him. "Heavens, love, you're so—aghh—tight," he grunted.

Your moans were never-ending as he sunk into you inch by inch. The stretch was briefly painful but it hurt so good you didn't care.Steven stopped halfway in and leaned down to press a kiss against your forehead. "You're taking me so well, sweetheart," he praised you.

You bit your lip at his praise. "More, Steven, keep going."

Steven obliged and fully sunk into you with one last push. Your moans mixed in the air at the sudden change. "You feel so good inside me Steven, oh my God-" you cried out.

You nearly choked on air when Steven slowly pulled out of your heat before slamming back into you.

"SHIT," you both cursed together before opening your eyes to look at each other.

"Faster, baby, I can take it I promise," you nodded, bringing your hands up to the sides of Steven's face. You even wrapped your legs around Steven's waist.

Steven took a deep breath before pulling out and rutting into you again, now establishing a pace. Which every thrust inside your cunt, Steven grazed your g-spot, effortlessly. It was as if you were built for his cock.

"Fuckin' love the way you fuck me, Steven," you mumbled as Steven set a brutal pace inside you.

Steven leaned down to press his forehead against yours as he continued to fuck you. Your breathing seemed to sync as he pulled out moan after moan from you.

His hands rested at the sides of your head but you could feel them inching closer to your neck.

Your pussy clenched around him at the thought of him choking you. Steven faltered in his thrusts in response. "Love you're squeezing me so hard I don't think I'm gonna last."

"Do it," you called out, tilting your head toward one of his hands.

"What?"

"I can see you thinking about it. Choke me, baby," your chest heaved as you felt your third orgasm of the night approaching.

Steven hesitated for a second before he stopped his thrusts and brought a shaky hand to wrap around your throat.

"I trust you, Steven," you spoke truthfully, "I want this too," you brought a hand to rest over Steven's briefly in reassurance.

Steven began roughly pounding you again with his hand now squeezing around your neck.

"Fuck yes, holy shit," you breathed out, feeling your eyes nearly roll to the back of your head with the newly added feeling of Steven's large hand wrapped around your throat. making you see stars.

Steven, although shocked by your immediate enjoyment of his secret guilty pleasure, took it as a sign to continue. So he trusted faster but made sure to maintain the same amount of pressure on your neck. He then got the idea to use his free hand to reach down and fiddle with your clit while fucking you.

You were instantly thrown over the edge. You came with as best a scream of Steven's name as you could manage with his hand still choking you. Chills ran down your spine while Steven slowed his thrusts inside you and waited for your orgasm to pass.

Eventually, you felt Steven release your neck and slowly begin to remove his cock from your cunt. You tightened your legs around his waist in protest. "Uh uh, we're not stopping till you come inside me, Steven," you demanded.

Steven loved the way you'd been taking control throughout all of this. He'd do anything you asked without a thought. "That's fine with me love," he nodded with a lopsided grin.

"Good," you deeply inhaled before using your hold on his waist to roll him onto his back, with you now straddling him.

You smiled at his shocked expression, which soon morphed into excitement. "You're bloody amazing," he grinned up at you.

You fought the heat that crawled onto your cheeks at his words and looked away with a smile. "Stop sweet talking me and fuck me, Steven."

He nodded quickly, "Yes ma'am." Steven slipped back into your entrance slowly.

But you grew impatient and fully sat down on his cock, loving how full he made you feel. Steven's cries met your ears soon after.

You grabbed his hands and placed each on one of your breasts before beginning to properly ride him. Steven heeded your directions and pawed at your chest while thrusting up to meet your hips.

His grunts soon became whimpers and whines as you rode him harder and faster, eager to make him cum.

"I'm almost there, love," he cried before sitting up and pulling you into his chest. His hands moved down to grip your waist where he guided you faster along his cock.

"There you go, Steven," you held his face against your own as his pace grew sloppy and his brown eyes slid shut.

"Cum for me, baby," you softly spoke with one last grind of your hips. Steven halted inside you with a broken sob of your name and filled you up with his warm release.

You moaned at the feeling of his spend coating your inner walls and leaned down to press a kiss to the top of his head. "You did so good Steven."

"I love you," his eyes finally opened while he panted, looking up at you with vulnerable eyes as if scared that you wouldn't feel the same after what you had just done together.

"I love you too," you replied without hesitation. You gently shoved Steven onto his back and followed suit, laying down on his chest as you gently removed his softening cock from inside you. You felt his hands move to wrap around your body soon after, bringing you further into his body.

Steven was the first to speak after some time. "I think you're the best thing that's happened to me in a really long time," he admitted, turning to look at you, not at all phased by the exhaustion in your features.

You leaned up to meet Steven in a heated kiss. He tightened his hold on you and met your lips with equal fervor. You pulled away reluctantly and looked down at his face with furrowed brows as you used a hand to trace his jaw and swollen lips. "Where have you been hiding my entire life, Steven Grant?"

"Haven't been hiding, love. I've just been here waiting for you."

° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

WHEW! This ABSOLUTELY got away from me holy shit. 6k words? yeah, not the plan at all. But hey it's definitely something considering that I haven't been able to sit down and write anything till tonight.

So I really do hope you enjoyed it.

(Lemme go look back through my requests and see what else I can cook up.)

[flamingpudding]

do you still take requests? if you do can you write your take on this idea https://www.tumblr.com/ilydana/746501696852819968/cloneclonedbatman?source=share

Thanks for the Ask! That's is an interesting one!

Also as long as I can write something to it I don't mind getting requests, if I can't I will let people know if I can. So no worries about that K?

Out of courtesy and because I believe its is the right thing to do here the Link and a Tag to the original writer @ilydana I hope you don't mind that I am taking inspiration from you for this.

Also I don't know Conners Timeline well and I like to base my writings on the Wayne Family Adventures settings so.... yea sorry if I got some facts wrong....

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

Clone double Wamy

Thinks were never easy for the Waynes, Bruce realised that when he sat in the meeting room. Usually he would have confronted his best friend in a more private setting, like when it was just the two of them or only Diana with them. But his best friend had been grating on his nerves with this for a while now. Bruce had honestly believed Clark had gotten better with the whole Clone thing but apparently he hadn't.

"All I am saying is that Conner is a person and to stop referring to him as 'it'." Bruce wasn't sure what had this brought on but maybe it was also having listened to his own kids rants about the way Conner had been and sometimes still was treated by Clark. Usually when someone called his friend out on it he would laugh awkwardly and say it was a slip of the tongue. That he still wasn't completely used to the idea of having a clone.

It's been years and Bruce wasn't buying that excuse anymore.

Well his persistent nagging had now caused this petty fight in front of everyone. He knew his children present, Dick and Tim, would have his back as well as most of their friends. But he also knew that those that prefer to keep the peace would try to argue in Clarks favor to sweep this hole problem under the rug once more.

"You don't get what it is like to be cloned or how long it takes to get used to it!"

His eye twitched under his cowl, he could also feel his kids tense up, especially Tim. His entire family had expirence when it came to cloning. The number of labs from the LoA they had shut down and destroyed was a testament to it. But there was one thing his entire Family aside from Alfred didn't know either.

"I actually do."

He stated calmly watching Clarks reaction as he stared unwaveringly at his best friend. He could see the colour drain, the paling and the pure look of disbelief he was getting, while Nightwing and Red Robin stood up to stand behind him with crossed arms. They probably thought he was referencing the time they had to fight Damian's Clones that sadly couldn't be saved like Conner had been.

"What do you....?" His best friend started but wasn't able to finish his question as Bruce decided to rip the bandaid off.

"The original Bruce Wayne died before he even was one month old. My parents, unable to cope with the loss cloned the baby with the help of a pair of scientist from Illinois." If the situation was different he might have laughed into the faces the people around him were making, not very Batman like of him but it was kind of funny. Still he was thankful for the comforting hand his son, Dick, placed on his shoulder or the way his other son, Tim inched closer protectively like. These two while probably shocked still stood by his side.

"And i was not the only clone that resulted from my parents original grief."

He left it at that as he stood and left the meeting without any further explanation. Bruce had made his point clear, now the ball was in his friends court. He was thankful that his kids followed him out as he went straight to the Zeta-Tubes to return to the Batcave. He knew his kids had questions for him, but he was not willing to answer them in front of the other heroes and thankfully his kids knew that that. So they silently followed him until they were back to the cave.

"B?" Dick asked tentatively once they were back in the came.

"It is as simply as I stated. My parents grieved the loss of their original son and unable to cope they cloned their own child with the help of a pair of scientist." He reiterated his earlier statement not looking at the two at first. For a brief moment he was thankful his other kids were out and about busy with other things.

"A pair of scientists?" Tim propped further and Bruce sighed wondering how much he should tell or if he could keep some things secret.

"Family actually. Estranged but they were... are family." He nodded. "The Fentons. Jack Fenton was my fathers cousin. Because of his field of research he got estranged from the family, not fitting into the perfect image my great grandparents had in mind for the Waynes originally. My father contacted him for help regarding the cloning back then."

"You said you weren't the only one?" He gave Tim a small smile, it was just like him to catch on to the small details and focus his questions on that.

"I didn't know until many years later when my parents died." He smiled a little remembering back to his training with Lady Gotham and how she asked him if he had siblings and then proceeded to introduce him to his clone twin. Ever since then Danny had become quite the fixture in his life, a reconnected family member. Though they had needed a lot of help when it came to actually speaking with each other but that thankfully Danny's sister Jazz helped.

He couldn't help the laugh that escaped him when he noticed Dick's stare of realisation. "Uncle Danny!"

Bruce just smirked, chuckling lightly as he gave his eldest a slight nod. "Danny."

Dick was the most familiar with Danny having meet the other a couple of times when he was younger and just started out as Robin. Bruce wasn't ashamed to say that Danny and Alfred had been the two he had asked for advice the most when he had taken Dick in back then. Danny had already expirence in raising kids from an even younger age than Bruce had. That their two cousins Dan and Danielle were in a way clones too was however something he would not be telling his kids yet. Frankly it wasn't his place and honestly if Danny hadn't become as comfortable as he had with this fact over the year he wouldn't have outed his clone twin to his kids either.

"So...." Tim started, rubbing the back of his head nervously. "...what now? Not that it will change anything now but uh...."

"Nothing really? I mean if Clark still got a problem then well I guess we don't have a super uncle anymore? But hey maybe we could introduce Uncle Danny to Conner?" Dick shrugged turning to Tim.

"But that would mean we admit to Uncle Danny that B let us in in the secret and that could make things awkward and..."

"Tim you are overthinking! It will be fine!"

Bruce smiled as he watched his two sons start to argue wether or not to introduce Danny to Conner. Well even if they did Danny wouldn't mind it. In fact Bruce had kept his clone twin updated on a lot of things that happened with his work as Batman. One of the reasons was that Danny had started out in the hero business way sooner than Bruce had but also because Danny was his last resort contingency plan against everything.

His twin would probably laugh in their faces and ask why it took them so long to introduce them and then drag his own daughter to meet Conner so they could have some 'clone'-bonding time and knowing Danielle, she was going to drag Dan along and then Bruce himself too. Bruce chuckled at that thought, he also knew that if Clark doesn't clean up his act than Danny would most likely swoop in and adopt Conner right out of under Clarks nose.

Well all he had to say if it came to that was that his best friend wouldn't be able to blame anyone but himself then.

[vixenvoider]

I ENTERED THE VOID STATE

in this post i will explain in depth how i entered the void state and what i manifested. i will be open to questions but if you ask something that i explain in this post i won't answer it just fyi, so even though this will be long, if you are truly curious i encourage you to read the whole thing. i am sorry for any spelling mistakes or grammar mistakes that might be present.

overall story: i have been trying to enter the void for around 2 months now, and finally entered through a lucid dream. one thing i want to note before i tell my story is that i have been lucid dreaming my whole life (so if you never have, i don't know what good steps are for beginners).

the beginning: my journey started when i inadvertently came across a post about how someone else entered the void state and manifested their dream body and face. i was not into manifesting before, in fact, i actually had a problem with the whole concept of the law of attraction and didn't know there were other types of manifestation and never looked deeply into it. that being said, i have always been an open-minded person and also, a more or less spiritual person. i believe in a lot of "out there" things because a lot of said things have been proven to me (through experiences i find hard to explain so i'm not going to). i'm sharing this to let you know that due how deeply i naturally believe in such things i never really had a problem with my void concept, even though i experienced doubts (so for this area i really can't give much advice).

so after learning about the existence of the void state i searched "void state" on tumblr and skimmed some info here and there on it, what i came across included some basic methods on how to enter the void but i didn't fully understand them yet. that same night i followed a shifting guided meditation but i couldn't really get "into" it, i was a naturally anxious person who found it hard to relax so it just wasn't working, but i did see it through and try my best and i think in the long run it helped me. in the guided meditation i listened to, the person makes you walk through a door to get to your desired reality and even though the meditation didn't work, that imagery worked it's way into my subconscious and i had a lucid dream that night. i did not manifest anything that night but it was on purpose (i think). in my lucid dream i woke up in my bedroom. i looked in the mirror and decided i would change what i saw to a more desired appearance and it worked (i looked exactly like the person i was thinking of), then, i decided (with intention) to open my bedroom door and enter my dream house and it worked. at this point in the dream i thought that entering the void must be super easy since i was already basically close and could have done it there if i wanted to BUT i chose to wake up because i wanted to enter the void when i actually knew for sure what i wanted my manifestations to be. i knew i was going to want a lot if i really thought about it and i also didn't want to actually look like someone else (my whole lucid dream i was more trying to test my imagination and build my confidence). the next day i started making a void state list and writing down everything i genuinely wanted for myself.

experiencing doubts: things started to go wrong after that hahah, after my first beginner's luck(?) experience i was struggling to lucid dream (even though i've always naturally been a lucid dreamer, the times it occurs is still random and i couldn't make them happen) and meditations were only getting me so close. all in all, over the past 2 months i had 5 failed lucid dreams and several close, but failed, meditation attempts. this instilled some doubts in me, especially the lucid dreams, because apparently once you lucid dream it's meant to be quite simple but when i would affirm for the void in my dreams i would just wake up or the dream would continue.

another thing that caused me to doubt the void was questioning some of the stories on here. most of them i initially don't believe anyway because it's known there's many liars in the community and there seems to be a trend of people posting void success stories in an attempt to enter to the void (to act as if it already happened) but they technically haven't in reality yet. that being said, i did have some blogs i mostly trusted and then one day one of the blogs i trusted answered an anonymous ask about a success story and it really looked like they sent it to themselves. the reason i thought this was because the op of the blog spells a commonly used word wrong all the time but it's not a spelling mistake people commonly make (in fact, i know no one who makes this spelling mistake) but then the anon that sent them the success story made the exact same spelling mistake. it made me worry that perhaps there were no true success stories because why was this person who supposedly mastered the void bothering with sending asks to themselves to validate their blog? i mean this was all speculation but it still caused me to think.

that being said again, i still basically believed, i just wavered a little, but i definitely believed enough to keep persisting (because why not?)

the success: finally, after almost 2 months i entered the void through a lucid dream. when i realised i was dreaming i tried to make myself stay super grounded in the dream but i also thought about not taking too long since i didn't want to wake up. i did this because i realised the very first night when i had my lucid dream, i didn't get excited and try immediately, i hung around in my dream for a while and just enjoyed things (as i explained). so i wandered around the dream a bit and just looked at things, touched things, tried to feel the temperature and take note of it and then when i felt calm and not too excited i closed my eyes and affirmed for the void and entered. when i got the void i just said "i have everything on my void list" (a few times to make sure) and then stated i was exiting the void state. the void feels how pretty much everyone describes, you just know it's happening and you are pure consciousness.

what i manifested: my void state list ended up being super long and i manifested a lot of personal things that i won't share, which is what i'm sure would be the same for most people, but i'll include a list of things that others might find interesting or encouraging:

desired appearance (including body, face, height etc)

money (i came up with a plan that of how it would make sense in my country to have acquired it)

got rid of my anxiety disorder (having this was probably the most debilitating part of my life, it's also why i know meditation never truly worked for me since i could never relax and it's crazy to feel not severely stressed constantly for the first time in my life)

got rid of my autoimmune disease and fixed my eyesight (i manifested being healthy overall in general)

feel comfortable instantly, i will no longer get too itchy, feel dirty after a long day, be too hot or too cold etc. (can't really attest to this one yet but i have felt no discomfort)

dream living space and whatever bed i sleep in to always be super comfortable

opinion on the void state: overall the point is that the void state is real and you can get anything you want, getting to the void is also easy but it's just about trying to go for it and not getting discouraged. i don't want to share too much of my opinion on this because i actually find it really toxic. some people will get mad if you say you "entered" or "got to" the void because you technically are always the void, and personally, i don't find these slight changes in language to be important unless you are very sensitive to it. for me, it doesn't matter if i think about the void as something i enter or something i am because i believe it exists and that's all i need to know at the end of the day. if you want to see it as something you are, or a state or anything else, i don't think it matters as long as you believe manifestation is possible, you are the creator of your reality, you get to decide what language or thought process works for you :)

common questions: i'm going to answer some question i feel like i will get if people find this post so i'm just going to answer them here. remember that these answers are just my opinion.

question: how come people don't manifest to end world hunger, for everyone to have money, to become the next "big thing", to be a real life superhero, for everyone to be happy etc. truthfully, i think people do manifest that but i don't think they stay in this reality. a lot of people think that using the void at all means you shift your reality, idk if i believe in that, but i would have to assume the people that use the void to manifest very extreme things ultimately have to shift realities. so this would mean the reason you're not seeing these results is because these people are no longer in this reality. if you pay attention i think you will also notice that most void success stories that seem to come from reliable sources (though this is still all personal judgement) seem to be rather humble, these people just manifest to be the prettier version of themselves, to live in a nice place, to be around good people and other similar things. i think people with mostly humble desires stay in this reality and people with more fantastical desires (to be the most famous person ever, to be a multibillionaire, world peace) go elsewhere.

question: why would someone even have humble desires? i can't speak for every single person but i think it's just the desire to stick to the familiar. we want better lives but also want to feel at "home" still, i wanted to still feel like ME. maybe it seems stupid and selfish but if we really are shifting realities every time then there really is no way to actually solve world hunger anyway, it will always exist in this reality even if you or i personally go to another one. at the end of the day, life isn't fair and i am just grateful to have discovered the void to live happily and am sharing this so you can too.

question: i'm worried about the wrong people finding out about the void state. honestly, me too! but i think this falls in line with my past two answers, if someone terrible happened to stumble upon this post and entered the void, i don't think they'd stay here, they will go to some other reality more likely, so i really don't think we have to worry about someone super evil getting to the void and doing something super heinous or whatever. but honestly i do understand the worry. at first when i discovered the void i thought i wouldn't share my success story once i entered because i wanted to keep the void as quiet as possible. but just remember two things: most people do not know about the void and if they do a lot of them will give up and not persist. second, someone really evil finding it will probably leave this reality (my theory).

question: why do people not show better proof. truthfully, i don't know, for me it's because i really do want to live a private life and a lot of stuff i manifested can't be proven anyway. if i show my bank account, it could be photoshop, if i show my new face it means nothing because i revised to always look this way, i can't prove i no longer have my autoimmune disease and the list goes on. i think people with more dramatic proof also want to maintain their privacy or go to other realities. perhaps there's even been people to show dramatic proof in this reality but they had to revise that they didn't because it was a mistake.

question: do you have any overall tips? just keep persisting. and personally, i think it's okay to try several methods at once. i know some people say if you try several then it "cancels out" like, if you try lucid dreaming and it doesn't work so you meditate it means you don't "believe" lucid dreaming can work for you so then that's why it takes you so long but i think you can just tell yourself "every method works for me so i will just keep persisting". another thing i recommend trying for a few days is setting your alarm to go off at different times so day 1 is 8am, day 2 is 7am, day 3 is 9am and so forth. each day set the intention to wake up BEFORE your alarm goes off, once you successfully start waking up a few minutes before your alarm everyday this is your tangible proof that your intentions are working. this isn't really a method but more so a confidence booster that worked for me to remind myself i'm in control and powerful. if you also try this i think after a few days you will feel more confident intending to lucid dream, for your meditations to work, for subliminals to work (whatever is your personal vibe) and you will get there easier hopefully!

question: did you ever do any official lucid dreaming methods. personally the only way i ever had a lucid dream was by intending before sleeping that i would lucid dream. but methods where you wake up by setting your alarm early and going back to sleep and stuff didn't work for me. i tried but due to my anxiety i would always wake up super alert or even stressed, so i could never relax enough. but they are successful for many people so there is no harm in trying.

[eddie-van-munson]

The Princess Bride (Farmhand!Eddie Munson x Princess!Reader)

***********

***********

Warnings: Mentions of Blood (Nothing Graphic), Kissing, One Subtle Allusion to Smut, Childhood Best Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn...I think that's it?

Summary: You've been best friends with the stable boy since childhood, but when a suitor comes from across the sea to ask for your hand in marriage, you're forced to finally confront your feelings for him.

A/N: I hope y'all like this! I've had this in my drafts for literally over a year, but people seemed interested when I asked, so here it is! Please, Please, Please leave a comment! It will keep me writing!

Six Years Old

Your earliest memory of him was from the stream. 

His head was a mess of wild brown curls, so thick they nearly covered his eyes, and his pants had been rolled up past his knees. You'd been sitting in the gardens, ignoring your tutor's endless lesson on etiquette, when you spotted him through the clearing. He wobbled as he waded further, jumping forward suddenly as he tried to catch a fish with his hands. You had to hide your giggle with a polite cough, lest you be scolded.

The boy heard you, though. He stared at you as you obediently walked along the bank behind a man with a large nose. 

You made eye contact with him, and as soon as he noticed he'd won your attention, it became a game. Suddenly, he was pulling funny faces and splashing around the creek like a giant. He held your gaze all the while, flashing you a two-front-toothless grin when you finally fell into a fit of giggles. 

You'd had to recite forty lines that afternoon because of him, but it was well worth it to share a laugh as he mucked about in the water.

***********

Six Years Old

The next time you saw the boy, you'd fallen ill with fever. It'd been a few months since the stream, and you almost didn't recognize him as he plopped a bundle of healing herbs down on your bedside table. 

"You don't look like a Princess." He crossed his arms before him as he eyed you suspiciously. "You're awfully pale…And you're not even wearing a crown or a dress or anything." 

"I'm sick, you knob." You frowned, "No one wears a crown to bed." 

He hummed, sticking up his nose. "I thought Princesses had to be grown-ups." 

"I'll be queen when I'm a grown up." You announced, bossily. "And you'll have to do everything I say, or I'll send you to jail." 

He scoffed, "Not if I'm the King! The Queen has to do what the King says!" 

You rolled your eyes, "Well, you can't be King." 

"Yes, I can! Haven't you ever read King Arthur?" He pointed, brows raising. "I just have to find an enchanted sword and pull it out of a stone. Then I'll be the King, and I'll send you to jail." 

Your cheeks went pink as you argued, "King Arthur isn't even real!" 

"Yes, he is! And I'll be just like him! King Edward the First!" You giggled, and the boy flipped around from where he'd started strutting around the room, proudly. "What?"

"Edward is a funny name." 

As wildly offended as the boy was by this comment, he had to hide the smile that crept to his face at the sound of your hoarse laughter. "It is not!" 

"Yes, it is! Who's ever heard of a King called Ed? King Eddie!" You held your stomach, falling into another fit of giggles. 

He turned from you indignantly, "Fine! Stay here all alone with your smelly herbs, then! I don't need any silly ole' princess!" 

"No!" You croaked, sitting up in bed. "Don't go. It's so boring up here. I can hardly stand it." 

He sighed, putting a hand on his hip, and thought for a moment. "Only because you'll have me beheaded if I don't." 

***********

Ten Years Old 

"Oh goodness…You've gotten mud on your dress!" 

Your mother fussed over the little blue dress you were wearing, kneeling beside you to get a better look at the damage. Splotches of brown had been smeared over your front. Even your hair had a few streaks of dirt. 

"I got in a mud fight with Eddie." You informed her, as if the mess was perfectly justified by this. 

She chuckled, "I see. It looks like he may have won this time, hm?" She gave your cheek a gentle pinch, making your nose scrunch. 

"No, he didn't!" You turned, pointing at your friend. He dragged his feet behind you, looking defeated. 

Your mother burst into pretty laughter at the sight of him, resting a hand on her stomach. "Oh lamb…come here." 

The poor boy was absolutely caked in dirt. Not an inch of him was left unscathed. His wild curls were sopping with heavy mud, and you couldn't even see the embarrassed flush on his pouty face. He looked like he'd rolled around in the pig pen.  

The queen tutted affectionately, smirking. "Oh what am I going to do with you two?" 

***********

Thirteen Years Old

"Do you think he'll be alright?" Tears welled in your eyes as you sat in the windowsill in your room, watching Eddie as he walked quietly by himself in the distant fields, below. "I don't like seeing him cry." 

"He'll be alright, love." Your mother cooed, taking a seat beside you. "I know it's hard to see him in pain, but the poor dear's lost his mother. It might take some time for him to feel like himself again." 

You sniffled, holding your knees. The words trembled when you spoke again.  "He'll be sent away, won't he? He won't be allowed to stay at the palace anymore." 

The Queen frowned, stroking your hair. "Why do you say that?" 

"His mother worked in the laundry. That's why he's lived here so long. Without her, he-" You trailed off, voice cracking as you gave a soft sob. 

"Oh, silly girl." She chuckled softly as she dried your tears. "You think we'd throw Eddie out all on his own?" 

Your brow furrowed, confused. 

"Eddie's a strong boy, sweetheart. He works very hard in the stables and takes good care of the horses. He holds his own…and even if he didn't, he's family. We'd never send him away." 

Your whole demeanor relaxed, "You really mean it?" 

Your mother smiled, "Of course." 

Still, your eyes didn't leave him. You sighed, "He's so sad...He's sad and I don't know how to fix it. 

"I wish we could fix it for him, darling, but that's not how these things work. You can't take away that hurt. You just have to let him feel it." She straightened her dress as she stood, giving your hand a loving squeeze. "But that doesn't mean he couldn't use a friend." 

***********

Fourteen Years Old 

"I didn't know Princesses were allowed to climb trees." Eddie's grin was stained sweet and red, his legs crossed over a branch lazily as you plucked another strawberry from the bushel you'd collected that morning. 

Your etiquette teachers would be appalled if they could see you now, wearing little more than a chemise in the summer heat as you straddled a thick tree branch. Your feet were bare and dirty where they hung in the breeze. You smirked, "They are if nobody sees them." 

Eddie laughed, and it was such a clear sweet sound that you wished you could keep it tucked inside a locket. You sighed, longing to freeze time and keep things just the way they were forever.

You relaxed against a branch, "I've got my whole life to do what royalty is supposed to do. I've got to do fun things while I can still get away with it."

Eddie chuckled, "Maybe I'm a bad influence on you, after all.

You frowned, "Did someone say that to you?" 

He shrugged, unbothered. "The maids whisper it. They say a young lady shouldn't be left alone with a young man." He put on his best 'prim' voice, making you giggle. "I'm a threat to your innocence!" 

You held your stomach, laughing. "A threat to my innocence? That's horrible!" 

He grinned, "You're telling me!" 

The breeze rustled the leaves in the tree as you lounged, breathing in the sweet summer air. 

Eddie had strawberry juice on his lips. For the first time, the tiny, ant-sized thought of kissing it away crawled into your brain. You squished the ant. 

A bad influence, indeed. 

***********

Fifteen Years Old 

"Tag!" 

Eddie sprang up from the corner of the barn, sprinting after you as you ran off into the fields. 

You lost him quickly, cutting down and into the gardens. The morning dew was cool as the grass tickled your bare feet, and you nearly slipped as you ran over the stone path. A gloved hand grabbed your elbow to steady you. You turned to see a member of the palace guard; his brows furrowed. "There you are, Princess. Your Mother-" 

It all happened so quickly. Eddie ran through the bushes, a playful grin tugging his lips, and grabbed you from behind, "I've got you!" He yelled, drowning out your giggles. 

Before you realized what was happening, the guard ripped you from his hold, tossing you aside. Eddie was thrown onto the stone path, his temple hitting hard against the tile. Distantly, he heard you shriek. His vision was fuzzy and starry when he felt the weight of the guard pin him down, a drawn sword shoved against his throat. "You shall not touch her!”

"Stop! Stop it!' You grabbed the guard's arm, But he threw you back down. Eddie choked your name. 

"Stay back!" The guard barked at you, pressing harder against the blade. Eddie could feel blood trickling from his head. He was trembling, eyes closed tight. Still, the guard yelled in his face, “Who are you? Hands by your side!” 

"He's my friend!" You screamed hoarsely.

"Get off of him this instant!"

You'd never been so happy to hear your mother's voice in your life. The guard dropped his sword at the sight of her rushing towards him. Immediately, his face drained pale as a ghost. "Y-Your majesty!" 

"Get off of the boy, for god sakes, he's a child! Get off!" The man clambered off of Eddie as your mother knelt beside him, fussing over him dotingly, "Oh sweetheart, your head…You're shaking like a leaf…" 

He blinked hard, trying to clear his vision. The queen turned to the guard as you pitifully crawled over to your friend, pushing his curls back off of his forehead. "I'm sorry I'm sorry-" 

The guard searched for an explanation, "Your majesty, I thought the boy was-" 

"I know what you thought!" She snapped, sternly. She was well aware of the whispers surrounding yours and Eddie's friendship. Your mother's lips were pursed, cheeks red. You'd never seen her like that before in your life. "It gave you no right to hold a weapon to that child's throat!" 

"Your highness, I-" 

Your mother ignored the guard, turning back to you. "Help me get him inside." You nodded obediently as she squeezed Eddie's shaking hand, "I'll send for a doctor to check your head, darling."  

Eddie nodded, dizzily. 

You sat with him later that night when the doctor had gone and his head had cleared. The mark on his forehead would scar, no doubt, but it had been well tended, and any concussion he suffered was minor. This knowledge, of course, did nothing to soothe his nasty headache. 

"You're not a very good sport, you know." He groaned as you took his hand, smirking. "Siccing the palace guards on me just because I tagged you?" He tutted, "What a sore loser." 

***********

Sixteen Years Old 

"You have to tell!" You ran after Eddie as he hauled a sack of oats through the gardens to the stable. 

He ignored you, holding his nose high. "No, I don't. I don't have to tell you everything just because you're a princess."

You crossed your arms, "You have to tell me because I'm your best friend, you knob. Best friends don't keep secrets!" 

"Sure, they do. You mean to tell me you've never kept a secret from me?" 

You groaned, "That's different! You have to tell me if you fancy someone!" 

Eddie sighed, turning to face you, and dropped the sack of oats. "Why do you want to know so bad?" 

You blushed, stammering. "I…I want to help you confess your love!" 

Eddie laughed, "What a lie! You just want to tease me!" 

"Oh, Come on!" You pouted, putting your hands on his shoulders. If you tell me who it is, I'll tell you a secret, too."

"Tempting." He sighed, picking up the sack again and throwing it over his shoulder. "But no." 

***********

Eighteen Years Old

"You've got to keep it down…"

You scoffed, rolling your eyes as he guided you towards the stables. "Why?" 

He laughed, "If I told you why, then it wouldn't be a surprise." 

He smirked when you groaned, reaching for the latch on the barn door. “You know I don't like surpris-..." 

 You went silent as he led you inside slowly, revealing a soft colored mare, and below her, her newborn foal.

"Oh!" You gasped, a smile creeping to your face. You stepped forward, wanting to approach the baby, but Eddie took your arm, gently pulling you back.

"You've got to be careful...the mare's protective of her. I nearly got kicked in the teeth this morning." He chuckled, enjoying the amazement in your eyes as you watched the mother and baby interact. 

"She's beautiful." You mumbled, grinning. 

Eddie couldn't help but smile, "She's strong too..." He paused, breath fanning your neck as he spoke just loud enough for you to hear. "She'll make a good riding horse, one day." 

You met his brown eyed gaze, biting your lip shyly as he nudged your arm with his elbow. 

You could feel him admiring you. 

You liked it.

***********

Nineteen Years Old

"Oh, Eddie. He was horrible…You wouldn't have been able to stop laughing!" 

Eddie clutched his stomach, laying back against the grass as he toyed with a wildflower. "That's because it's funny!" 

Your fingers fumbled with the ends of your hair, untangling the intricate hairstyle it's been tied up in. "It's not so funny when it's you!" 

Eddie grinned, looking starry eyed, "It really just fell off of his head?" 

"During dinner!" You exclaimed. Eddie fell into another fit of laughter. "Right onto his plate in front of everyone!" 

Your friend sighed, wiping his happy tears as he sat up to gather a handful of clovers. "I can't believe he wore an honest to God wig. The poor lamb." 

You laughed at his faux sympathy, watching his hands as he wove together stems. 

He looked so different from the little boy you'd befriended as a child. His wild curls had grown just past his shoulders now, his bangs often covering the scar on his temple. His arms and back were beautiful, muscles sloping gently beneath his skin, and while he was a hint more bronze than he had been as a boy, his freckles remained. His nose and his dimples had never changed in the slightest, and those big brown eyes reassured you that no matter how much Eddie had grown up, he'd always be that silly little boy, deep down. He'd always be your Eddie. 

"But what's the verdict?" He chuckled, "You never said. Is he the one?" 

You groaned, "You're mocking my pain." 

"I am not!" He fought a smirk. "I didn't want to assume. Maybe he was a wonderful conversationalist." 

You giggled, yawning. "I wouldn't know. I didn't catch a word he said after his hair went into his soup. 

Eddie gave you a fond smile, laying on his elbow beside you, "Here you are, princess. A crown." 

Your heart felt oddly achey as he draped a handmade crown of wildflowers over your head. You smiled, affection in your eyes. 

Your throat was tight when you spoke, "You're better than any prince, Eddie Munson." 

His cheeks flushed faintly. "Well, I don't know about that…" He tapped your nose playfully. "Most princes don't smell like a barn." 

***********

Twenty Years Old 

"Eddie, darling!" Your mother had called to him as he cut through the gardens back to the stable. His brows raised when he turned to find the Queen accompanied by you and the King. A man Eddie had never seen before held your arm, an unreadable expression on your face. Eddie bristled. 

"Your Majesties." Eddie nodded his head politely as the group approached, his muscles stiff with wariness. 

Your father gave a proud smile, gesturing to the stranger on your arm. "Son, let us Introduce you to Prince Carver the Fourth: Heir to the Throne of Hawkins."  

"An honor to meet you, Your Highness." Again, Eddie bowed his head. He'd never seen someone that looked so stiff. The two of you would have fun joking about it, later. 

Prince Carver was older than you, and by the looks of him, he'd never been outside a day in his life. Every last one of his blonde hairs had been tediously placed, as if he'd been sculpted out of clay, and his boots were perfectly polished black leather. The blonde eyed Eddie with disdain, crinkling his nose at the sight of his work clothes. "Yes, I'm sure." 

Eddie fought an eye roll. Another suitor, he assumed. The Royals were only being polite by offering him a tour, seeing as he'd travelled so far only to be rejected.

The Queen stepped towards him, glancing at the prince. "Eddie has become a very dear friend to our daughter, Prince Carver. Perhaps he would make a nice addition to your staff. He's served us so well in our stables." 

Confusion was visible in Eddie's face. An addition to his staff? What was going on? He looked to you for help, but your eyes were cast down into the grass. 

Prince Carver cleared his throat, "Unfortunately, we aren't lacking any farmhands at the moment, but you need not worry about the princess, your highness. She'll find much companionship in Hawkins, once we are wed."

Eddie felt his blood go cold. Absolutely frigid. 

Once we are wed. Once we are wed. Once we are wed.

His mouth opened to say something, but he couldn't find a single word. He was desperate to look you in the eyes, but his gaze was only met by a small shimmer on your left hand. An engagement ring. 

"Please excuse me, Your Majesties." 

****

Eddie hadn't cried like this since his mother died. 

He hadn't felt the blow of such terrible loss since he'd been orphaned. 

He sat alone in the barn on a stool, tears rolling down his cheeks as he gently stroked his fingers through the mane of the foal he'd surprised you with two years ago.

It was a pretty horse…full grown now and patterned with soft brown spots across her back. You'd named her "Sweetheart" after hearing Eddie call her that. 

Come're, Sweetheart. 

Here you go, Sweetheart. 

Good job, Sweetheart…That's it. 

Pain shot through his chest at the realization that the horse would probably get to go with you to your new home. 

But not Eddie. Eddie would be left behind. 

He clenched his jaw, eyes burning as he buried his fists in his curls and tugged. He was angry. He couldn't help but feel angry. It wasn't fair. His whole heart was being shipped off to God knows where, and there wasn't a word he could say about it. 

It wasn't your fault. You were a princess. Your hand in marriage was a pawn in a game of political chess. It had been since the beginning. Both of you knew this. You always had. So why weren't the two of you happy that this inevitable union was one that would lead the country to thrive? 

Eddie took a deep breath, relaxing his hands from his hair and rubbing tears from his face. 

You'd daydreamed with Eddie before. Lots of times. It was always the same thing.

I wish we could just run off and live in the woods, Eds. Just you and me. We could build a little cottage beside a stream. That way, we could swim in the summertime. You could finally teach me to fish, too. 

Is that what he'd been expecting? Had he hoped, deep down, that he'd somehow end up in that cottage after all, spending summer days with you by a stream? 

Maybe. Or maybe he'd just wanted you. 

He'd dreamt up hundreds of different futures for himself. There were countless paths he'd wandered down curiously in his head, over the years. Some were outlandish and fantastic…some were more modest. As much as they varied from day to day, he was realizing now that his hopes for the future had always held something in common. 

He'd always had you. 

****

The next week seemed never ending. 

Eddie didn't see you once. You were avoiding him. That much was obvious. 

Before the proposal, you made a habit of visiting Sweetheart at least once every day. You liked to brush her as you talked with Eddie, twisting braids into her coarse hair. She was spoiled rotten, no doubt, but that didn't leave the horse feeling any less deprived of attention with the sudden loss of your quality time. She'd gotten fussy over the week, whinnying and pacing in her stall. She'd even started kicking again, when she was feeling particularly agitated. 

Still, you made no appearance at the stable. Eddie was surprised, however, to look over the gate one evening to find Prince Carver walking swiftly through the grass. 

"Your highness." Eddie nodded, spotting the green apple in the man's hand. "Have you come to feed the horses?" 

"Certainly not." Carver scoffed, "I've come on behalf of the Princess. I find it inappropriate for her, as a lady, to be spending time in the stables. 

 I've reassured her that I'll take it upon myself to fulfill any required visits with Sugarplum." 

Eddie frowned, " Forgive me Your Highness, but I think you might be thinking of Sweetheart." 

The man scoffed, slapping the apple down in Eddie's hand before storming off.

 "Whatever the damned thing's name is." 

Eddie swallowed hard, calling after him. "Would you like me to show you how to feed her, Prince Carver?" 

The man laughed cruelly, "Heavens no. That's your job, is it not?" 

**********

"What on earth are you-! Edward Munson!" You gasped, immediately dipping over the stone ledge of your window to reach for him. He laughed, flashing you a boyish grin as he took your hand, pulling himself up and over the sill. 

Christ, you'll crack your skull one day!" You muttered, the both of you giving way to the effort and falling to the floor with a thump. 

"For the present my skull remains intact." He reassured, giving a faux bow of his head. 

You snorted, plucking dead leaves and briars from his thick dark curls. "What on earth put it in your head to climb all the way-" 

Eddie caught your hand, his eyes landing on your engagement ring. His thumb brushed over its stone as your heart sank into your belly. 

"Oh." 

Eddie studied the ring for a moment, taking in its details. There was a long silence. Finally, you spoke. 

"It's a dreadfully heavy thing." You pulled it off, placing it on your bedside table. "It catches on my gown, anyways."

A knowing smile crept to Eddie's lips. He sat in the silence for a moment before reaching into his pocket. 

A small wooden ring was produced, painted delicately along the band with tiny white flowers. He slipped it onto your marriage finger. "How's that one?"

You were breathless. "It..it's..." 

It was perfect. It was the most beautiful ring you'd ever seen, though you couldn't find the words to say so. 

Eddie's thumb brushes over the flowers, "I carved that for you when we were sixteen."

Tears welled in your eyes.

"I had it in my mind to propose to you then. The gardener stopped me when he discovered my plan." He gave a sad chuckle. A comfortable silence hung between you. Eddie took your hand, humming. "Would you have said yes?" 

"Eddie..." A tear rolled down your cheek, only to be brushed away carefully by his ever-gentle hand. You gave a sad laugh, your thumb stroking over his wrist. "You're not being fair." 

"Maybe not." He whispered, "But any man should be damned if he saw you and didn't want to keep you."

"It's cruel." Your voice wavered with emotion. "You know I've loved you since we were children...nothing can be done about it, Eddie."

"Nothing can be done about it?" Eddie gave a humorless laugh, "You're going to be Queen. Everything can be done about it." 

"What would you have me do?" Your brow furrowed. "Tell my father to end our alliance with Hawkins?"

"Yes! Hawkins only seeks to use us for our resources. Forest Hills is better off without their partnership." 

You swallowed thickly. The cicadas sang their response from the Glenside below. Again, Eddie wiped your tears. 

"Love is not something to be kept only for common folk. Your father will understand that. So will your kingdom." 

Something in you crumbled under his gaze. You drew closer, letting him envelope you in his arms. He held you for a long time, stroking your back, sweetly. 

"I spoke to your mother." He cooed, pressing a soft kiss to your hair. Your head tilted back; eyes wide as you stared up at him. 

"Did you?" 

"Yes." His eyes were so warm and brown. You had admired them many times before this, but never quite so closely before. "I knew I was to ask for your hand...I couldn’t very well ask for your father's blessing, so I felt your mother's would be just as valuable. To us, at least."

You smiled, your forehead resting against his. "What did she say?" 

Eddie chuckled at the memory, "She pinched my cheek red. I wish you could've seen it. She cried and held my hand...told me she'd always known I would ask her one day." 

You gave a watery laugh, your fingers lacing tightly with his.

"She said she didn’t know if it was possible for me to make you mine, but that nothing would make her happier." 

There was a long silence. Eddie cradled your face, "Do you feel the same, little Princess?" Your pretty eyes fluttered at his whisper. "Do you love me the way I love you?" 

"How could you even ask?" 

Eddie chuckled, "Because I've done nothing but profess my feelings for you tonight, and now I'd like to hear you do the same." 

You chuckled, your smile fading with thought. 

"I knew...I knew I loved you about five summers ago." Eddie smiled fondly, his cheeks going pink. "We practically lived outside then...the world seemed so bright and warm and I didn't realize then that it was all because of you." You reached up, carding her fingers through his messy hair.  "The sun turned your curls golden on the edges-" 

Before you could finish your sentence, he was kissing you. He was soft and warm and strong, holding you close as you melted for one another. Eddie laughed, breathless, when you parted. "I'm afraid I win, then. I've loved you far longer than that." 

You laughed brightly as he kissed you again, working his way down your jaw to the column of your throat. "When?" You breathed, whimpering as he nipped at the crook of your neck. 

"It's hard to say." He moaned softly as you coaxed him back up to your lips, your hands lacing in his hair. "All I know is that I've never loved you more than I do right now." 

Another tear rolled down his love's cheek. He kissed it away. 

"But why these tears, now? Am I really that terrible?" 

You gave a watery laugh. "No. Not at all I...I just..." You gave a little sob. "I want to marry you. I want to be your bride and keep you always, but I can't-" 

"Marry me, then. Right now." 

You frowned, tucking a strand of his curls behind his ear. "What?" 

Eddie thumbed your ring as he caught your hand. "Do we not have a ring? A gown?" He swallows thickly, eyes darting between your night clothes and the mattress beside you.  "A marriage bed?" 

Slowly, You stood, guiding Eddie to stand before you. "We...we have to make a vow" 

"What kind of vow? I've never been to a wedding." 

You stared up at him, eyes brimming with love. "S-Something about.... For richer and for poorer. Through sickness and in health. From each sun to each moon." 

"May I write my own?" 

A tear rolled down your cheek as you nodded. 

He looked down at your hands, so soft and perfect in his rough ones. "I wish I could tell you that as my wife, you will want for nothing. I wish I could make you flowery promises about how you won't have a care in the world...but since I can't make you those promises, I'll make you the ones I can." 

He knelt before you, gazing up into your eyes. 

"I promise to you that no matter how hot the summer's day, I'll always climb to the highest branches to find you perfect, sun-spotted apples."

You giggled, a grin splitting your cheeks.

"I promise to let you spoil your horse as badly as you wish. Never again will I deprive her of a single sugar cube." 

Another giggle. Eddie kissed your knuckles.

"I promise to kiss you...often and abundantly...until you can't bear to kiss me even once more."

Eddie grinned at your blush. 

"I can't build you castles, but I promise you a home. I promise you food to eat and sturdy walls to keep you warm. I promise you children to nurse and adore." 

Eddie paused, heart fluttering.

"And I promise you love. The same love for you that I've held long since before I even knew what I was feeling." 

His voice wavers. 

"I promise that at the end of our lives, I will still feel it." 

Eddie clasped your hand with his, "So, Princess. If you'll have me...then with this ring, I thee wed." 

You repeated his words, falling to your knees to embrace him. Eddie caught you in his arms as he stood, peppering kisses to your nose, then your cheeks, and finally, your lips. 

His thumb brushed your new ring, gently. "I can't tell you how it feels to see you wearing it." He gave a watery laugh. "It's been sitting on my nightstand for four years now." 

"I wish I could wear it always..." 

"Why can't you?" He pulled back to meet your eyes.

Your expression sunk, "I'm afraid I'm still scheduled to be wed tomorrow morning." 

"Oh, don't be ridiculous." He hummed. "You think I'd allow another man to marry my wife?"

"Eddie..." He scooped you up, laying you gently upon your mattress before sitting beside you. "Promise me you won't do anything stupid tomorrow." 

He chuckled as you combed through his curls with your fingers. "When have I ever been known to do stupid things?" 

"I mean it. You remember what happened the last time someone thought you were a threat to my innocence. It would kill me to see you hurt." Your fingertips grazed the scar on his temple, stiffening at the memory of his head hitting stone. 

There was a long silence as Eddie gazed at the ring. He kissed each of your fingertips slowly. "Do you trust me?" 

"More than anything." 

Eddie smiled at this, holding your hand to his heart, "Then don't worry." 

You gave a hesitant smile. Eddie cradled your body against his, gently combing through your hair. 

"We must leave tonight." He whispered. "Disappear into the woods. If we rode as far as we could on Sweetheart, it would be nearly impossible for them to find us by the time morning came. It would be difficult, but we'd be free." 

Immediately, you tensed. "Eddie, no. He could have you killed if they found us." 

"Then you'd better hold me awfully tight for as long as you can, my love." 

**********

You woke to the sound of water rushing beside you. You laid upon a bed of moss; a thick blanket tucked around you. You felt shade cover you as a figure knelt as your side. A hand on your head, pushing your bangs back lovingly. You stretched and groaned in response, not wishing to leave behind the warmth of your blanket, and kept your eyes closed.

"What a shame." Eddie cooed with a smirk, seeing right through your fib. "My little wife is simply too weak and exhausted to carry on. I suppose I must leave her behind..."

Your eyes flew open, taking his bait. "Leave her behind!?"

Eddie laughed brightly, pulling you into a smiley kiss. You were beginning to think nothing in the world felt better than kissing him.

Eddie's nose nudged against yours as he hummed passively. "Did you know you talk in your sleep?"

Your jaw dropped, "I do not, Eddie Munson."

He giggled, "You most certainly do, Mrs. Munson. We had a whole conversation whilst you slept."

"What about, pray tell?"

Eddie laid on his back beside her, letting her rest against his chest as he tucked his arms behind his head. "How handsome I am."

You smirked, rolling your eyes as you kissed him. The sun was warm and the cool earth beneath you felt like silk beneath your skin.

"I feel like I could do anything I wanted out here. No one could stop me."

"You could." Eddie smirked with another peck. "But I'm afraid we must keep traveling, my love. We still have a long way to go."

"How far are we going?

He tucked hair behind your ear, "So far they'll never find you. So far that it will be impossible for them to take you from me."

You nodded, curling in against him.

"And once we have finally traveled far enough..." Eddie grinned down at you. "I shall build you our cottage by the stream." 

***********

@ali-r3n

@stephanie-nicks76

@penandpage

@the-local-pendeja

@blindbisexualgoose

@eddiemunsonsgf2

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[watermelonlovershigh]

another sickfic/period prompt.. living together as friends/housemates and H finds her on the floor in the night feeling really sick from her period and sits with her + helps her out 🥲 changes her sheets for her, rubs her back and just holds her on the floor with a blanket round them. she's absolutely mortified with no choice but to be accepting of his help and all he wants to do is make her feel a little better :(

Period Cramps Are No Fun {part 1.} (housemate!harry series)

AN: thank you for this request. it's not exactly as the request said but i hope it's close enough. and i normally don't write harry as anything other than y/n's lover but made an exception with this story. please share your feedback with me and let me know how you liked it. enjoy. xoxoxoxo

This story contains: small period leak, severe period cramping, puking due to period cramps, crying due to pain and embarrassment, mentions of sex toys, comfort, fluff

{ housemate!harry - friend!harry - softrry - any harry era - au!harry }

word count- 1,956

You wake up in the middle of the night with severe period cramps and when your housemate and friend Harry happens to wake up for a glass of water, he sees you on the bathroom floor crying and has no choice but to be by your side and comfort you.

You were looking to be someones flatmate or housemate. You'd put offer after offer online and one day a guy named Harry accepted your offer. He had a pretty nice townhouse in London and from his brief description of himself, seemed to be an alright guy. You didn't want to move in with some lazy scumbag and you'd come to find Harry is the opposite of that.

He's probably the cleanest guy you've ever met. He enjoys keeping things organized and loves to keep the house smelling fresh with candles on every shelf and table. And you get along quite nicely. You'd even go as far to say over the six months of living in his townhouse that you've become friends.

Doing things friends do such as order take-out food together, watch movies on the couch, paint each others nails, share juicy details about your love lives (or lack thereof). Harry is a very fun guy to be around and if you're being honest with yourself, you'd say you've developed a slight crush on him. I mean how could you not? He has nearly all the characteristics of what every woman's ideal man would have. Physical characteristics and things through the actions he does.

Now even though you've became great friends over the six months of living here, there is still stuff you try to keep private. For instance, your periods. Harry's not dumb and obviously knows you get a period. Mainly from seeing your sanitary products under the bathroom sink or in the bin by the toilet. You don't try to keep your periods a secret, just private.

And though Harry knows you get periods, as do most females, he has yet to see the bad side of your periods. The periods that make you sob on the bathroom floor from the amount of pain your cramps are causing. The periods that make you nausous and throw up. Luckily those periods aren't a monthly thing but they do happen a few times a year for whatever reason and it sucks.

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

Late last night as you and Harry were watching a movie on his sofa, you began to feel crampy in your lower stomach. You asked if he could pause the film while you went to the bathroom down the hall and he agreed. And that's when you realized your period had came and you'd leaked. It's not a bad leak but it's enough for you to need to change your underwear and your shorts. Which the shorts barely had any blood on them but still called for a fresh pair.

Once you got yourself situated, you returned to the living room where the first thing Harry commented on is your changed clothes. "Did you change your shorts or somethin'?"

Quickly, you answered, "Yeah, my period started and I kinda leaked. Okay, you can press play on the movie."

Harry nodded sympathetically but followed your orders. He would have said something else to try and comfort you but knew you prefered to keep your periods more private. He doesn't understand why though. All women get periods. It's not something you should be ashamed of and he wished you'd understand that.

Now it's four in the morning and you're woken up to what feels like the worst period cramps of your whole life. Fuck, you scream in your head, it's gonna be one of those months. The longer you lay in bed the more nausous you began to feel from how painful your cramps are and that leads to you stumbling out of bed and rushing to the bathroom down the hall.

After what felt like an eternity, you made it to the bathroom and literally crawled on the floor over to the toilet. Now that you're in the bathroom you feel less nauseous but the pain is still in full force. That's when the tears start flowing. With your back against the wall and your knees up to your chest, sobs roll out your body as you fight against the waves of your uterus contracting to release its lining.

Harry is a heavy sleeper and usually don't wake up unless someone outwardly calls his name or pushes him awake. What wakes him up right now though is a dry mouth and a craving for a glass of water. So he gets out of bed and heads to the kitchen. But before he can even make it to the kitchen, he hears what sounds like crying coming from the hall bathroom.

Rushing over to the bathroom door, the sight before him breaks his heart. You didn't have the strength to shut the door so from the hall, Harry sees you sobbing in front of the toilet, back against the wall, and a hand clutching your stomach. "Oh, Y/n," he steps inside, "what's the matter?"

You slowly lift your head and the first thought in your mind was you didn't want him to see you like this. This was too embarrassing and you were too vulnerable at the moment. "Harry, go. Don't look at me."

Taken back by your words, Harry retorts in concern, "Not until you tell me what's wrong. Are you sick? Why're cryin'?"

Realising it's no use to deny your housemates help in your condition, you answer through the pain and tears, "My.....my cramps are SO bad. It hurts so much, H...Harry. *sob* It's making me feel so sick."

Harry frowns sympathetically and kneels down beside you in just his boxer briefs, which is his usual sleep attire. He would have covered up a bit more if he'd known this is what he was going to be walking into on his trip for a glass of water. As soon as he kneels down, you get the real urge to puke.

You push yourself off the wall and hang your head over the toilet. A harsh dry heave leaves your mouth that makes him cringe but nothing more, yet. Harry quickly scoots behind you and collects your hair with one hand and runs his other hand over your back. He doesn't know if you want to be touched right now but knows that when he's getting sick he finds that if someone rubs on his back it makes him feel a little better.

"Shhh," Harry whispers gently, "it's okay. You're okay. I've got you." He patiently waits until your feel better or actually get sick. After a few more jarring dry heaves, you end up throwing up in the toilet. And though the act feels like hell and is gross, you hope it will also relive the sickness your belly feels due to your period cramps.

You slowly lift your head up, taking deep breaths, and start crying again. This time not from the pain but from embarrassment. Harry's quick to ask, "Hey, what is it, Y/n? The cramps again?"

A little more coherently then the last time you spoke, you answer, "No. Just embarrassed. I threw up in front of you." That has Harry throwing his head back with a laugh.

"Y/n, I don't give a single fuck about you throwing up in front of me. Everyone gets sick from time to time. Just want to make sure you're alright. I hate that your period cramps are causin' you so much pain."

While subconsciously rubbing circles in your lower tummy, you ask desperately in a near whispered voice, "H, can you please go get me some pain medicine. It's in my bedside table drawer in my bedroom. Once I have that I think I'll feel better. At least for a couple of hours."

"Of course." Harry agrees and gets up off the bathroom floor to head to your bedroom. Once inside, he walks straight to your bedside table and opens the drawer to find your bottle of pain medication. While rummaging through to find the bottle, Harry tries to ignore the assortment of sex toys you have in there; bullet vibrator, dildo, clit sucker. Shit, this is the wrong time for him to get all hot and flustered at the thought of you using those under his roof.

He finally finds the bottle of pills and heads back to the bathroom where you still are. Within the time it took him to grab your medicine, you've stood up off the floor, flushed the toilet of course, and now sit on a closed toilet seat. Harry opens the bottle and asks, "How many? One or Two or....?"

"Two please." Harry hands you two tablets and grabs a paper cup used for rinsing your mouths out by the sink and fills it up with tap water. You carefully grab the small cup from his hands and take the pills with urgency, just wanting to be out of pain as soon as possible.

Once that's over with, Harry annonces, "Well, I'll let you get cleaned up in here and I'll be out there waiting for you."

"Okay, thank you." you respond gratefully. Harry really is the best housemate you could have asked for. While he's gone, you change out your tampon and brush the taste of vomit from your mouth. Then you exit the hall bathroom, ready to try and get a few more hours of sleep.

As you step inside your bedroom, you're taken back. Harry has managed to change your sheets and duvet, claiming a fresh pair will help you relax and hopefully sleep better. He's also set an actual glass of water on your nightstand, as well as plugged in his heating pad for you to use. "Harry....... what's all this?"

Nervously, because he doesn't know if this is all too much to do to someone who is just his housemate and friend, Harry replies, "Um, just wanted to make sure you come back to a comfy room. Hopefully you'll get a few more hours of sleep. And if you get thirsty or need to take more medicine, there's a glass of water there. Then my old heating pad that you can use across your tummy to also help with your cramps. Hope it's not too much."

You turn around with a small smile on your face and reach out to hug him. He's startled at first but soon relaxes and hugs you back. You hug for a minute before you break away first and mutter your appreciation. "No, this is great, Harry. Not too much at all. Thank you for your kindness tonight. And thank you for putting up with me in the bathroom. I know that wasn't a pretty sight. So yeah, just, thank you so much."

Looking down at you, Harry gets the urge to kiss you, but instead, says, "Y/n, it's no big deal, really. I would have helped anyone in that situation. Just want you to feel better s'all. Now get back into bed and around ten I'll wake up and make us a brunch. Sound good?"

"Yeah, sounds perfect." You crawl back into your bed that now has fresh sheets and maneuver the heating pad over your tummy. The pain medicine has begun to work but your uterus is still quite achy. As Harry turns around and heads out your door, you yell out, "Night." even though it's five in the morning by now.

"Night, Y/n." Harry speaks as well before slipping back into his bed across the hall. Now laying in your separate beds, all you can think about is how much you would have loved if Harry was in your bed cuddling you. And all Harry can think about is how much he wishes you were in his bed, so he could cuddle you. Maybe one day that day will come. But for now, you're just silly housemates that's turned into friends.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(no more tags are allowed because i've hit my number limit. sorry : ( )

tag list: @one-sweet-gubler // @harryscherrysugar // @hsfanficsrecss // @lollypopsx // @harrycanyonmoonn // @itfeelslikemytherapisthatesme // @damnasstyles  // @mrsstylesharry // @softmullet  // @meetmyblondemuffins  // @thegirlnextdoorssister // @stanleystyles  // @haarrrys // @michellekstyles  // @skyangel57   // @the-gardener-31 // @lhharrylilpumpkin // @yousunshine-youtemptress // @clairestylessss  // @kissmyaxe140  // @goldenmelonsugar-hi // @kaitieskidmore97 // @florencepughily  // @alienorknight //@dancearoundthelivingroom  // @swiftmendeshoran

 // @luv-flor7777  // @alohastyles-x // @tenaciousperfectionunknown  // @sleutherclaw // @siredtohybrid // @whoscamila // @a-strange-familiar  // @golden-elodie // @mrspeacem1nusone //  @goldenkhae // @lntwithhrry  // @shadowygladiatorlight  // @manifestrry  //@mendesblurb // @sunshinemoonsposts  // @depersonalizationsucks // @academiaghost // @zendayassimp // @reveriehs // @vsnnstuff // @dancinsunflowerkiwi // @quinnsgrapejuice // @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite // @justlemmeholdyou // @hsonlyangelxo // @luvonstyles // @howdey

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My Masterlist Masterpost

Arguments and Confessions {part 2.} (housemate!harry series)