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pin-k-ink · 5 months

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ephemera // gojo satoru

tw ⇢ teacher-student relationship, implied age gap, dub-con, pet names, alcohol consumption, body worship, fingering, dirty talk, mutual pining

wc ⇢ 4.6k

a/n: i still have no idea how to describe what being intoxicated feels like

Gojo stared intently at the calendar, jaw tensing as he circled the quickly approaching date with a vibrant red pen. It was marked simply with your initials, but he knew the significance behind those two unassuming letters all too well.

Your birthday. Specifically, the one that would officially bring your transition into adulthood.

A strange feeling twisted in his gut, part anticipation and part...something darker, more fraught. For years now, he had forced himself to bury the undercurrents of forbidden attraction simmering between himself and his brilliant, beautiful student. With the power differential between you, it would have been unforgivably unethical to act on those urges, no matter how they ran molten beneath his skin when your eyes met across the training dojo.

But now, with your impending status as a legal adult, all of those previously steadfast barriers were suddenly rendered moot. You would be a woman grown in the eyes of society - fully autonomous to make your own choices about relationships and intimacies.

And Gojo would finally be free to pursue the longing that he'd ruthlessly shoved down year after year, fight after defiant fight of your ceaseless vibrant energy and fierce determination fueling his darkest fantasies.

He imagined you garbed in the finest evening dress money could buy, back baring and skirt slit high over shapely thighs as you gazed up at him with invitation in those captivating eyes. You'd be poised, every inch the elegant woman he'd watched you grow into over their time together. Except for the promise of sin smoldering in your heavy-lidded stare, all focused solely on him.

A low growl vibrated up from Gojo's sternum as he envisioned pressing you back into crisp hotel sheets, satin and lace pooling around your ankles as you arched shamelessly up into his questing hands and scorching mouth. He could almost taste the hot whiskey burst of your cum on his tongue as he spilled your name like a prayer between body-wracking tremors.

With a forcible shake of his head, Gojo dispelled the graphic fantasy. It did him no good to get carried away...at least not yet. First, there was the little matter of arranging a proper celebration for your coming of age. He had a solid six weeks to plan something suitably memorable and utterly unsuitable all at once.

The grin that split his features could only be described as wicked as the beginnings of a daring scheme crystallized in his devious mind. Oh yes, your first foray into adulthood under his tutelage was bound to be one for the books.

Little did you know just how intently Gojo had been preparing for the evening of your birthday. One month out, he'd finagled reservations at the trendiest new upscale restaurant in the city's downtown district. Only the week before, an utterly decadent hunter-green dress had been carefully wrapped and stowed away to be your celebratory gift.

From the very first moment you slipped the sumptuous material over your head, he knew it would be impossible to resist you. The plunging neckline balanced perfectly on the precipice of modest, skimming the lush upper curves of your breasts while flaring out in soft gathers over the swell of your hips. It was classically elegant, accentuating every lush, feminine angle in the most tantalizing way.

Until you turned with that bashful, pleased smile so completely unaware of the effect you had on him. Then the thin racer-back exposed the flex of shapely muscles and downy-soft skin that fueled so many of Gojo's most arduous meditations in the dojo showers. His jaw clenched hard enough to grind enamel as he simply drank in the sight before offering a low, approving hum.

"Stunning," was all he trusted himself to murmur, afraid anything more would betray the molten lust already licking at his composure like an insistent flame. "Shall we get going, birthday girl?"

The ride to the city center flew by in a blur of heated silence, the two of you existing in a strange kind of limbo as the barriers between student and teacher began their ponderous dissolution. Gojo struggled to keep his burning stare from wandering into forbidden territory, but it was a losing battle with you seated beside him, lean legs casually crossed and the musky cloud of your perfume swirling enticingly.

That dizzying, feminine scent and the hypnotic sway of your throat as you swallowed was his undoing. Before the errant thought could take root, Gojo found himself leaning infinitesimally closer, scrutinizing the delicate juncture where your jaw curved deliciously...imagining mouthing open kisses along the thundering line of your pulse and--

He cut the fantasy off with a hard shake, tamping down the visceral need with decades of practiced control. One tremulous breath, then another, and he was able to look anywhere but directly at you for fear of being drawn back into wanton temptation.

Thankfully, your arrival at the restaurant staved off any further lascivious ruminations. As you glided through the elegant double doors in your emerald splendor, the bulk of Gojo's focus narrowed to polished professionalism once more. He was the picture of urbane charm as a tuxedoed maitre d' ushered the two of you to a secluded table near the back.

It was clear the maître had been alerted to expect them, judging by the subtle glances he kept shooting Gojo and the ultra-exclusive corner booth he led you to. But you were predictably oblivious to the weight of deference as you admired the intimate nook done up in rich crimson and onyx finishings.

"This place is incredible! What a view," you exclaimed, breath catching as you leaned over to gaze out the sweeping floor-to-ceiling windows towards the twinkling city skyline. Gojo clenched his fists under the table as the motion stretched the bodice of your dress taut across your chest, the shadow of cleavage darkening enticingly.

Sweet torture, every minute aspect was calculated to eat away at the gossamer threads of his restraint. He'd chosen this place specifically for the plush seclusion and unapologetic indulgence the setting evoked. The wine you both sipped from chilled crystal stemmed from rare vineyards, the food artfully composed from organic locally-sourced fare.

He wanted you to experience the finest that decadence had to offer. To let the slow-building seduction of flavors and textures relax your carefully maintained guard so his appreciative scrutiny might go undisguised. But most of all...he yearned to watch the first exquisite foray into unabashed surrender drift across your beautiful features.

By the end of your shared five-course indulgence, the flush dusting your cheeks and the inviting sprawl of your posture indicated Gojo's private mission was well on its way to success. You toyed idly with a fresh bloom of arousal as he signaled for the check, absorbing the casual confidence you exuded now that your inhibitions had begun to erode.

The warm heaviness of your stare was nothing new to his extensively-trained sangfroid. But with the knowledge that you'd officially achieved the age of majority? Your heated looks took on an entirely different tenor - one of open invitation and smoldering promissory notes about the night yet to come.

Unfortunately, you were still very much in public. Which meant Gojo would not give into the piquant cravings sparked by your every bashful glance and tongue-swept lip. Not yet, anyway.

That, however, did not preclude him from discreetly stoking those taunting embers once the stylized leather folio containing their exorbitant bill had been whisked away. The musky timbre of his voice was pure sin when he leaned close to brush his mouth along the delicious fan of your lashes.

"You've been such a good girl for me tonight," he husked, reveling in the delicate shudder that betrayed your body's rapt response despite your prim lack of reaction. "I think it's high time you got to enjoy the...full pleasures of being an adult, don't you?"

The dark, visceral promise woven through those purring words was almost enough to shatter your ingrained sense of decorum. As it was, Gojo had to suppress a devilish grin at the lilting catch in your breathing - a crystal clear indicator that his seduction was rapidly bearing fruit.

And so the hunt continued, him guiding you from the posh award-winning restaurant towards the pulsating nightlife district with a carefully choreographed set of lingering brushes and searing glances. Your bemused acceptance of his chivalrous arm swiftly morphed into dazed gratitude for the stabilizing pressure of his palm at the small of your back. It was only a matter a time before the crescendo of temptation reached its peak.

The moment that broke Gojo's steely control finally came several drinks past when-you-should-have-stopped at one of the city's most notorious bachelorette haunts. The hollers and joyous whoops of just-this-side-of-wasted revelers created the perfect storm of chaos and low lighting, sensual bodies gyrating as far as the jealously hooded eye could see.

It was exactly the sort of strobing, no-holds-barred den of sin designed to buckle the sternest of moral foundations at the knees. And from the second he ushered you into the heart of it, every baser instinct flared up like a bonfire whipped by high winds.

Between the sleek, gender-inclusive poles erected around the main dance floor, a panoramic spectacle of undulating hips and taut torsos welcomed voyeuristic eyes. Plumes of crystalline perspiration dappled glistening expanses of skin while enthusiastic strangers hooted their lurid approval.

Gojo's jaw clenched until his temples throbbed as he absorbed the intoxicating atmosphere. He could feel the evening's steady buildup of pheromones and liquor blossoming headier and richer with each passing second as you gravitated towards the seductive pulse of music.

It was only the barest reflexes of experience that had him seizing your hand before you went stalking off into the fray alone, turning to pin him with blown eyes and a rapturous grin bleeding sin. Even inebriated, there was no mistaking that look - the confident, carnal promise that would replicate itself on thousands of willing bodies before the night was done.

You were made for sensual surrender. And Gojo felt his control slip another few tenuous notches, picturing you wreathed in honeyed light, raven tresses tossed free as you worshipped the holiest of rituals that simmered in the darkness all around them.

Gruffly, he pulled you close enough to inhale the smokey remnants of whiskey and woman's lust from between your parted lips. "Where do you think you're going, pretty girl?" he growled, fingers clenching almost painfully around the generous swell of your hip.

Your answering laugh was liquid sin, bitter and emboldened by the rich burn of alcohol unfurling through your system. "Don't tell me you've gone all...responsible on me, sensei," you taunted, eyes glittering with honeyed challenge. "You didn't strike me as the type to pass up a little adult fun."

He hissed out a rough breath at your brazen defiance, torn between lashing you to his side or stalking away before he succumbed. Cruel implication laced your every syllable, a seductress unknowingly wielding weapons that could topple the strongest warrior.

"I'm not saying no," he finally rasped, letting the reassurance sink in before his hands meandered over the lush curves of your back, thumbs digging in deeply enough to short circuit coherent thought. "In fact, I want you to go have...all the fun an adult celebration like this has to offer. Just..." He paused to claim your mouth in a predatory glide, igniting a bonfire from the rawest flint of contact. "Don't make me regret giving you that permission, baby girl."

You shuddered violently at the naked demand threaded through his tone, flesh stippling with raw longing as you instinctively swayed into his scorching proximity. And it was all the encouragement Gojo needed to breathe a final molten warning against your gasping lips.

"Show me just how wild you can be. Do everything you want to do, take whoever and whatever you desire. But at the end of the night?" His fingers curled in the thick mass of your hair, tugging just shy of painful as azure fire bored into yours. "You'll be coming home with me, pretty girl. So save a little energy, hmm? I have plans for you..."

With that provocative parting shot hanging betwixt you, Gojo forcibly released you from his bruising clutches and watched with eyes of banked hunger as you spun away into the seething crowd. The spectacles of debauchery playing out all around did little to dissipate the feverish anticipation streaking through his blood. Indeed, it only made his vigil seem that much hotter, filthier.

Because who better than the teacher to appreciate each wanton display to its fullest, he mused, dragging a burning stare over the mouthwateringly sinuous path you carved into the throngs of gyrating bodies. Every lascivious roll and flirtatious glance from you only poured more kerosene onto the infernal blaze of need within him.

At one point, you even deigned to grant a long-haired, leather-clad youth a private demonstration of exactly what sort of unholy talents you were honing all these years under Gojo's watchful gaze. Up on the raised stage, working a pole with arched spine and legs wrapped in a scorpion-lithe grip, you rolled and thrashed in ethereal beauty - an incandescent vision of feminine sin unbound.

Gojo was beyond enthralled, beyond the point of return as your eyes met and held across the churning sea of drunken catcalls. Sweat trickled in liquid platinum rivulets from your hairline, weighting those silk strands to your flushed skin as the burnished gold of stage lights played sacrilegiously across acres of exposed dewy flesh.

You moved with unconscious artistry borne from decades of training and muscle memory - from the rebellious lick your tongue swiped over those sin-bitten lips to the deliberate circle of your hips as you remounted the pole upside down to the euphoric cheers of those gathered around the impromptu stage.

Reality narrowed to the carnal exhibition you presented, flayed bare and wanton, until the moment the hollow ring of the pole clanged emptily. And then Gojo was sliding from the shadows to collect you in his arms, relishing the trembling aftershock of exertion and pure, unchained bliss thrumming through your body.

"That's enough teasing for one night, pretty girl," he growled, scattering the rings of smitten voyeurs with one scathing sweep of his gaze. You whimpered in protestation, tangling damp fingers in the silk of his shirt to anchor him closer as you pleaded for his acquiescence.

"Please..." You slurred, voice husky and lush with the unnamed wantings that oozed from your every motion. "Please, I want..."

He sealed your plea with a claiming brand of lips, summoning a maelstrom of heat and friction that consumed your senses completely. Abstractly, you registered the distant howls and jeers of those witnessing your unrestrained depravity. But none of it mattered beyond the scorching ecstasy of his hands, squeezing and kneading territorial swathes across your exposed curves.

"Soon, baby," Gojo promised when you finally broke apart, his forehead cradled against yours as you both panted harsh reclamation of oxygen to your burning lungs. "Let's go home. You've been such a good girl...opened yourself up so pretty for me tonight. Now it's my turn to give you what you've earned."

Hazily, you clung to those molten words, trusting in them utterly even as Gojo swept you up into his arms like you weighed no more than a dream. The world tilted and spun with vertigo, but his presence was the anchor keeping you tethered - safe within the haven of his strength as he carried you out into the cool respite of the night.

At some point, the comforting haven of Gojo's granite chest and sandalwood cologne lulled your overtaxed senses into a state of blissful half-consciousness. So it came as a complete shock when you resurfaced some timeless eternity later, cradled in his arms on the precipice of a painfully familiar threshold...your dorm room's doorway.

As if splashed with a bucket of ice water, all the traces of syrupy drunkenness dissipated in one sobering rush, leaving you wide-eyed and incredulous as a horrible realization began to set in.

"Wha...what's going on?" you rasped, hastily prying yourself out of Gojo's embrace with as much detached dignity as a woman still panting from bone-deep arousal could muster.

You blinked dazedly, trying to make sense of the surroundings. But the usual anchors of time and place were hopelessly scrambled in the face of this man's penetrating stare and the phantom vestiges of smoke and revelry still haunting your senses.

"Hey now, it's alright," that deep, rumbly baritone soothed as you flinched from his proximity. "You're safe, pretty girl. Just let me get you inside and I'll explain everything."

He stepped into the washed-out hallway light and your breath stuttered in your lungs as a painfully familiar detail finally slammed into focus - the distinctive gleam of a pendant you knew better than your own name glinting from the hollow of his throat.

It all came rushing back in one headspinning epiphany - the decadent restaurant, the escalating tension, your uninhibited behavior as liquid courage set your baser instincts free...and through it all, Gojo's devotion to stoking that smoldering burn between you until neither could ignore the inevitable consummation hanging so tantalizingly close.

Your mouth dropped open in a soundless exhale as the missing pieces clicked into place. This wasn't some stranger - it was your enigmatic teacher himself, the object of your most scorching fantasies brought terribly, gloriously to life as he pinned you against the door with his signature brand of wicked provocation burning in those cobalt depths.

"Satoru..." you breathed, something like awestruck reverence lacing the name even as fresh heat bloomed across your cheeks.

One dark brow arched in wordless challenge, sensual lips still curved in that maddeningly familiar half-smirk. Almost absently, his free hand lifted to brush the pad of his thumb over your lower lip in a scorching caress.

"I'm listening, pretty girl," he purred, gaze dropping pointedly to the kiss-swollen pout before skating hungrily over every bared inch. "Why don't you tell me all about those dirty little fantasies that had you grinding away on stage like a dream?"

You shuddered hard, knees going watery at the explicit reminder and the intoxicating combination of sin and power radiating off him in waves. Despite your addled state, you knew there was no mistaking the naked challenge, the molten confirmation that Gojo returned your forbidden desires with equal fervor if the brand of his cock trapped snugly against your hip was any indication.

Which meant you could finally, blissfully unleash every scrap of wanton longing you'd been forced to keep confined behind useless layers of propriety and restraint for years. Here, now, with the man himself stoking your deepest wellsprings of lust and silently giving you leave to indulge like the wanton creature you'd always ached to be for him.

"Would you believe...that I've imagined this very moment more times than I can count?" you murmured in a rapturous rush before he could rescind the depraved permission.

You swayed helplessly into his solid weight as images from your most ardent daydreams began spilling freely - fevered scenes of his commanding, chiseled figure looming over your sweat-slicked body, mouth trailing liquid heat in its wake as he whispered the filthiest supplications against your neck.

"I've imagined you finding me like this before," you confessed in a breathless tumble, hands roving shamelessly over the crisp fabric of his shirt as you bared your darkest fantasies. "Completely messed up and desperate for you to touch me, use your mouth all over my body."

One of Gojo's hands fisted in your hair, tugging your head back to allow his tongue to blaze a scorching path over the throb of your racing pulse. You bucked shamelessly against his restraint, giving voice to another shattered fragment:

"I dream about you taking me again and again once you see how filthy I really am, until I'm out of my mind from the pleasure..."

A rumbling growl against your sensitized skin had you dissolving into a full-bodied shudder, hips grinding wantonly against the delicious promise pinning you to the unforgiving surface of the door. Gojo pressed you tighter into the cradle of his hips, allowing the impressive ridge of his cock to catch torturously in the molten apex of your need.

"Fuck, baby...don't stop," he rasped hoarsely, shredded composure bleeding through every syllable. "Was this what had you so turned on for me tonight? The thought of me disgracing that pretty little body until you've been utterly ruined for anyone else's touch but mine?"

You whimpered through your nod, rendered incoherent by the liquid heat of his filthy words alone. He seemed to swell further at your reaction, one large palm trailing up your torso to cup your breast possessively as he rolled and kneaded the sumptuous weight. His thumb plucked and strummed at the pebbled peak in time with the scorching grind of his hips, every whisper of contact a blasphemous supplication to drag you higher into sin's rapture.

"Satoru, please..." you finally managed to whine, hands fisting in the crisp fabric of his collar to keep from flying apart at the seams and dissipating into the ether. "I need...I need you to--"

In a swirl of movement and shredded restraint, you found yourself engulfed in the sanctuary of his arms, weightless and adrift as he carried you towards the bedroom like you were made of fine-spun glass. The world narrowed down to his lips claiming yours in a wildfire of devastating possession while long fingers blindly worked the door open under your combined weight.

One desperate backwards stagger later and you tumbled together over the threshold of the sanctuary he'd frequented in your most explicit imaginings. Your mouths were fused, twin points of incandescence that warred with the scorching need to drink in every gasp and keen your lover wrung free from the deepest, most sacred parts of your core.

Gojo slanted the searing brand of his kiss to swallow down an especial wrecked whimper as you rolled and writhed in his unforgiving embrace, shameless in your quest to chase more blinding friction.

"Every night since I first realized my obsession with you, I've fantasized about this moment," he rumbled against the sensitive juncture of your jaw, stubble scraping with delicious friction over your overheated flesh. "I've wanted this for too long - finally getting you naked in my bed, my ruin."

On the next insistent rock of his hips aligning you like destined celestial bodies, his clever fingers finally delved beneath the scandalous drape of your skirt to trail liquid heat over your drenched pussy and the lust-soaked array of lace and satin still shielding your innermost petals. He drank in your shattered moan like a man dying of thirst.

"Tell me, baby," Gojo husked urgently, punctuating each scalding inflection with another maddening push of his fingers into your drooling cunt. "Is this as good as you always dreamed? Has it lived up to your filthiest fantasies about me?"

You were beyond intelligible speech at this point, pathetic mewls and whimpers the only coherent sounds able to punch past the miasma of ecstasy clouding your mind. Still, you nodded frantically, arching feverishly into every scorching caress of his hands and mouth as Gojo slowly divested you of the flimsy cloth barriers separating you from total rapture.

The heat in his reverent stare as he laid your trembling form bare before his searing brand of appreciation was like an animating force unto itself. You bloomed under his ravenous focus like the most exotic of orchids, petals unfurling in welcome of the summer storm about to consume you utterly in the sweetest of drownings.

All too soon, the last scrap of modesty was shredded away on a zephyr's breath, leaving you panting and laid bare in the erotic aftermath of his sinful touches. Gojo drank in every quivering arch and sumptuous hollow for a long, molten moment - pride and pure masculine satisfaction warring behind his smoldering stare as he committed every line and plane to memory, every seam and shadow.

"My sickest, filthiest desires made flesh before me at last..." he growled in sublime rapture, unbridled awe and molten reverence dripping from each seared syllable. "Been craving the chance to savor this forbidden pussy."

One of those broad, calloused palms trailed up the tender inside of your thigh, urging your limbs wider in a silent entreaty for maximum exposure. The other swept along the feminine flare of your hip and lower abdomen, mapping every flutter of anticipation as Gojo crept closer to his prize.

"Now at last I get to fuck you like I always wanted..." His fingertips glided upwards, utterly unhurried and indulgent until blessedly, he cradled your scalding pussy in the scultped cradle of his palm as your hips jerked off the sheets with a punched-out cry.

No fantasy, no fevered imagining could have prepared you for the sheer bliss of your first full-bodied contact with the man who had haunted your dreams since that first day under his tutelage. Gojo rendered you utterly insensate with just the elemental slide of skin against slick, swollen folds - one languid stroke after another swiftly calcifying into that most exquisite of tortures as he utterly mastered your pleasure centers.

"Gorgeous little slut," he purred in hushed reverence, pouring every ounce of sin into his touch as twin points of searing azure bored into your hooded stare. "Let go for me, pretty girl. Let me hear those filthy noises that have tortured me for years."

You shattered on the next lazy curl of his fingertips into your syrupy core, back arching like a bow from the mattress as a clarion call of pure rapture was punched free from that deepest most sacred wellspring of feminine bliss he'd awoken. Over and over, Gojo sent you spiraling into blessed oblivion with just the barest brush of his ardent touch and the fathomless depths of desire blazing from every line of his commanding frame.

Eventually, the shockwaves of ecstasy subsided, leaving you an overwrought tangle of boneless satisfaction amidst the erotic aftermath. Still, his grip was inextricable as Gojo anchored your trembling form to his chest, brushing lingering sweeps of reverence over your damp brow and along your sides.

"I've wanted this for so long," he rasped, voice still raw from unleashing the full depths of his passion. "To cherish and worship you as the rarest of treasures that you are, pretty girl." He pressed scorching brands of kisses along the curve of your neck and shoulder, lingering over the marks his ravenous mouth had laid down to signify your joining. "There will be no more hiding how much I want to wreck you after this. You are mine now...and I will let the whole world know. Tonight was just a teaser - now, you’re mine to fuck and lay claim to your body over and over again, whenever I want."

That molten reminder of his intent to satisfy his hunger over and over throughout the endless, intimate hours still to come sent anticipatory shivers cascading through your core. This night had merely been an appetizer, a sinfully delicious prelude to all the raptures your mysterious mentor intended to introduce you to now that the shackles of propriety had been thrown off for good.

Unable to conjure any further words of import, you simply allowed yourself to melt back into his granite embrace as the cosmos outside bled away entirely. Because in this sacred chamber of reverent sin and endless exploration of desire's profane mysteries, nothing mattered beyond giving yourself over mind, body and soul to the sensual devotions of the only man who had ever dreamed of mastering you completely.

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eliciana · 7 months

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Reverse SAGAU: The Weird Door At My Café

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2(here) | Chapter 3 | ...

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Tw: Reverse!Isekai!Sagau, Normal Au, Café Au, a bit of cussing like this bit 🤏.

Reader: Gn!Reader, Adult!Reader, Café Owner!Reader

Characters: Reader, Paimon, Traveler

Note: Restaurant to Another World animanga inspired au. You can slide into my dms if you ever want to be tagged in my works just tell me what series you want to be tagged in or all of them. thank you <3. Also, I may say that the characters other than the reader may be a bit OOC cause it's been a long time since I played genshin and I'm just finishing all of my works with my knowledge left from playing the game. So sorry about it 🙏🙏.

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You stood, motionless, your eyes fixed in disbelief upon the distant scene before you. As the wind cut through the air, a shiver ran down your spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake. The purity of the air surrounded you, carrying with it an intoxicating scent that smelled pure. The warm touch of the sun's rays caressing your skin affirmed that this experience couldn't possibly be a figment of your imagination. A fleeting thought of doubt crept in, but you quickly dismissed it; after all, you had never dabbled in any kind of drugs. This moment, as unbelievable as it seems, had to be undeniably real.

With careful fingers, you gently retrieved your fallen shoe/heel/slipper from the bed of plush, emerald-green grass. As you slipped it back onto your foot, your eyes instinctively wandered upward, transfixed by the expansive stretch of blue sky above you. It was quite unlike the very bright pixelated one you see on your screen. Everything that you see within the door was real and not a nightmare.

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After composing yourself, you went inside your cafe, close the door, drag a chair nearest to the door, took a seat on the chair you placed infront of the door, and contemplated life. A deep heavy sigh got out your mouth as you continue looking the the strange thing infront of you. "What now? What do I do? Should I just lock it?" you asked yourself and looked at the door. Welp, well, there goes your master plan. Suprise suprise there's no keyhole and having a key would not make any difference. "Ugh."

You sat up and opened the door again, only to be baffled to see a different scenery other than the distant City of Mondstadt. The door was now currently in the Liyue Harbor. You closed the door and opened it again, you were now in Inazuma. Close, open, and now in Sumeru. Once again, you are now in Fontaine.

"Yeah bye." you closed the door again and returned the chair from where it once was. Contemplating what you should do next, your feet carried you around the whole café. You went to the counter and decided to make yourself something to help with calming yourself first in order to think clearly. It was a good thing that you had brought all of the materials and ingredients you needed in the café because you had thought of opening the café tomorrow. But with how things are now, you don't know what to do.

Teyvat is filled with many dangerous beings such as hilichurls, slimes, etc. You are but a normal human being with no experience in fighting and fighting your baby cousins was not enough of an experience to be able to fight toe to toe with monsters you have only seen through a screen. Yes, a gun would probably best to use but you don't have a permit for that and you don't want to be in jail when you have just barely open your dream café. But nobody had to know, right? What if-

A deep sigh fell from your lips once again. The stress is really getting in to you, huh? The bitter/sweet aroma of (coffee/tea/juice) filled your sense of smell. You were making your favorite, (your choice of coffee/tea/juice). After some time of finishing your drink, you took it along with a (pastry of your choice) that you had in your car, in which you had thought of eating to celebrate the opening, and sat in a chair facing the door. Taking your time in eating/drinking, many thoughts come and go in your head to solve the predicament you are in now. You had even thought of postponing the opening of the café until you had thought of a way on what to do with the door.

Of course you read the fanfics circulating all around the genshin fandom and one of the those that you have read was SAGAU where you might be the imposter or the creator of teyvat or you become a villain or anything in between. The most common of them was being an imposter. What if you were to become the said imposter if one day a person will open the door to your café? What if they kill you? What if-

*creak......*

Your rambling came to a stop as you looked at the door horrified. Oh no no no no no no NO NO NO! YOU JINXED YOURSELF DIDN'T YOU?! THIS DAMNED FATE-

'Oh dear God, Buddha, Allah, Deities, whoever higher being there is, pls help me...' you thought as you clasp your hands, praying to higher beings. Before you could even feel it, tears cascaded down you face to the table. "I'm nOt ReAdy tO dIE yeT... Ughhhhhhhh" you sobbed into your hands loudly like a child lost in a mall.

"Hello?" a person peaked from behind the door.

Fuck.

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The Traveler, along with Paimon, was doing their daily quests until they saw something shining in the far distance. Their curiousity made them want to investigate it.

"Hm. Why is a door in the middle of the forest with no support or whatsoever?" Paimon mumbled as the door came into their view. The Traveler also had the same thought.

"Is it perhaps a magic door of some kind? I think w-"

*creak*

The Traveler stopped speaking as the door opened but from where they are right now, they couldn't see who opened the door and couldn't get to ask since the door closed with a loud bang when they were going to get closer.

"Well... that was something..." Paimon looked at the Traveler. "Traveler? What's wrong? BREATHE! YOU'RE GOING TO DIE AT THIS RATE!" Paimon brought tons of fried egg out of the Traveler's bag and smacked it into the Traveler's mouth and forced them to chew the egg.

After confirming the Traveler is back into top condition, Paimon asked them what the hell happened to them.

"I-I don't know. I suddenly felt something when whoever opened that door and the air around me became heavy that it became hard to breathe..." The Traveler shooked their head gently and sighed. "I also felt something strange. The energy of whoever is beyond that door, excluded an aura that is very familiar to me, but I don't know who or what it is."

"Hm. Paimon thinks that we should open that door and see whoever that and see if they truly are familiar to you or maybe perhaps this connection that you feel is related to your sibling!" Paimon twirled around the air, exaggerating her words with her actions.

For once, Traveler thought it was a good idea at first but there is also a flaw in that idea. A flaw that might cause their life if whoever is beyond that door is hostile and will kill them. It is better to be cautious then to be 6ft underground before finding their sibling.

_________________________________________

Taglist:

@udretlnea

#genshin impact #genshin impact traveler #sagau #genshin sagau #genshin impact sagau #sagau genshin #self aware genshin #genshin reverse sagau #genshin reverse isekai #cafe owner! reader au #gender neutral reader #gn!reader #sagau x reader #genshin x reader #•works[🍡]•#genshin series

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milfsiril · 2 months

Text

symptomatic

kabru x reader; one shot

word count: 10k~

tw: adult audiences only, pet names, sex pollen, overstimulation, no pronouns but mentions of breasts and vagina, mild breeding kink if you squint

*—*

His breath tickles against your skin as he presses his face into your shoulder, and you can’t help but wonder if he’s purposely trying to tease you. Scratch that; he definitely is. He hums, his voice honeyed and low. “Don’t move,” he groans, his grip on you solid.

Although your party had recognized that you were all underprepared, you still made the mistake of rushing into the lower levels of the dungeon, despite how ill-advised it was.

Kabru was aware it was partially his fault; he had been too reckless, impatiently pushing everyone on despite the looks of uncertainty.

That’s what led to this very moment: Kabru clinging to you as if being apart physically hurt him, soft noises of protest spilling from his lips any time you shifted.

They had fallen and been revived many times, yet he had insisted on pushing further. This had led to him being snared by a plant monster and coming away coughing and wheezing as the pollen penetrated his sensitive membranes. Healing spells had proven ineffective, and despite the others’ voices of concern, he had waved them off, convincing himself he could push through any ill effects.

He had managed to stave off the symptoms of the pollen for long enough, but one night, as you had retired to the fireside, you commented about how he seemed more worn down than usual. You had raised your eyebrows in concern when you went to check his temperature and he had instead nuzzled against your palm.

Your party had left the dungeon, ignoring Kabru’s protests, and had holed him up in an inn so he could recover with no disturbances. You had agreed to stay with him, yet it didn’t explain why he was now curled around you, his fingers wrapped in the material of your shirt.

He whines quietly, pressing his face against you almost as if he was trying to hide. “Mm sorry,” he apologizes, his lips grazing the skin exposed by your shirt neckline. He rests his weight on you when you move, trying subconsciously to hold you down and prevent you from leaving.

Despite your prior relationship and his smooth talking ways, his pleas this time seem genuine as he begs you, “Please stay with me.”

You sigh heavily, stopping yourself from moving. You had originally joined his party because he was the only person you could find who would agree to take you. You worked as a member of a dungeoners safety and health organization, and had been required to go to the field (or the dungeon rather) to directly document health and safety violations.

Since most adventurers at best found an untrained person a burden and at worst were actively creating health and safety violations, it was difficult to find someone to take you with them. Luckily, Kabru’s party had needed the coin (or unluckily you supposed).

Kabru had also gone on a tangent about “protecting the rights of humanity” at the time, and winked at you, to which you had shuddered in disgust. The two of you were definitely at odds, and didn’t see eye to eye. You found him arrogant and narcissistic and he found you stuffy and nagging.

You two had argued often, and you had scolded him for not being careful many times, but still were the first to notice he was being affected. Now, you were here, nearly pinned under him as the rest of the party had gone to the next town over in search of a doctor who could remedy magical maladies.

He's.. a lot quieter now than he was before, not that you were complaining about that. If anything, you welcomed the temporary respite from the constant witty remarks and sarcastic quips that would spew from him on a daily basis.

His hand moves to thread through your hair, and he buries his face against your neck once again, inhaling deeply before letting out a breath that's almost akin to a sigh of relief.

He's so, so close to you. You can feel his chest rise and fall against your own, and you idly wonder if he's aware of just how hard his heart is beating.

You chew your lip, highly uncomfortable but willing yourself to be still for his sake. It’s not like he could help it at the moment, and it was your job to ensure adventurer safety technically, so you were the best to monitor him while the others went for help. His breath against your neck tickles, and you squirm a little. “This is… helping?”

As you squirm, he makes a low growl into your neck, almost like a warning not to move away. When he speaks, it's in a low murmur against your collar. "Stop moving. You're making it worse. Yes, it's helping, please. Just--" His grip on your shirt tightens, and he's suddenly moving to bury his face into your shoulder with a strangled moan of frustration and irritation. "Just let me breathe you in, for god's sake. You're not close enough."

You stiffen again, your body betraying you. While Kabru had certainly been an irritant for you, you felt terrible that he was so affected, and also.. had not been this close to someone in a very long time. You bring your hand up, petting his head awkwardly in what you hoped to be a comforting manner. He whined again in protest at your movement, and you hummed at him. “I have to move a little to make you as comfortable as possible… I’m sorry…” Gods, why does this have to feel so good?

He practically whimpers when you start to run your hands through his hair, his grip on your shirt lessening in order to hold onto your hip instead. His other hand finds its way to your side, fingers splayed out against your hip as if afraid that you might suddenly try to leave.

"It's-- It's fine," he says through gritted teeth, his voice cracking a little near the end as he tries to collect himself. "Just.. Just don't go too far. Please."

You bite your lip as he clings to you, his grip nearly bruising as he presses your body against his. “I won’t. I’m here.” You whisper as you keep petting his head. He seemed to react well to it. You allow your fingers to card through his hair in order to soothe him.

It's both a relief and a torture that you're indulging him. There's no other way he can satisfy this overwhelming need to hold and touch and make sure that you were here and real, and it's also torture because it makes it all the harder to keep any sort of coherent train of thought.

With how your fingers are running through his hair, he feels like he's losing his goddamn mind. He can practically hear the blood rushing in his ears if he tries to concentrate hard enough, and he leans into your touch.

You bite your lip even harder, drawing blood as you hear him practically purr, simultaneously trying to shove his face into your shoulder and push back into your hand at the same time.

Gods, you're going to drive him insane like this. He's completely unraveling under your hands, and it's.. it's so hard to think straight. He wants to push farther, wants more, but a part of him restrains himself from doing more than just bury his face against your shoulder and grip at your hip and side. He's already doing more than enough with how he's pinning you down like this.

Feeling more assured that this is helping, yet feeling bad that you’re even touching him in such a state, you shut your eyes, bringing your other hand up to rub up and down his back gently. “I’m sorry.” You whisper again, leaving the rest of that sentence unspoken. For him feeling like this? For touching him? For the inappropriate thoughts gracing your mind? You weren’t sure which.

No, no, he's enjoying the way you're rubbing up and down his back, the way your fingers comb through his hair. He's enjoying the way you're letting him hold you like this, indulging him so that the damned pollen can run its course through his systems. He's enjoying having your body flush against his, how your touch radiates through his clothes so that he can feel it against his skin. "Mmn... Don't apologize. Just.. gods, don't stop."

You nod, your cheek brushing his head as you do. Your fingers scratch his scalp, the other hands draw soothing circles against his back. His shirt is damp with sweat, and you look down at his curly head of hair rubbing against you. “You’re so warm...”

He practically writhes under the combined effect of the pollen and your touch. Your fingers scratch at his scalp and the back of his shoulders, and the circles you make against his back only make shivers run up his spine. He lets out another shuddery breath, and you can practically feel his body try to press up against your own even more than it already is. His shirt is sticking to his skin, mostly drenched with sweat now. "’m not, you’re too cool..."

You pause for a moment but continue stroking him when he whines, “Does that… does the coolness of my skin feel good?”

"M-mn-- yeah," he admits without hesitation, his words slightly muffled from where his face is tucked against your shoulder. "Your hands are cold, they-- gods, that feels good."

He lets out a shaky breath, and you feel his fingers dig into your hip, so hard that it's almost painful.

You take a deep breath, unsure if it’s a good idea or not, but the words tumble out of your mouth anyway. “Do you want to take off your shirt? It might help…”

His fingers freeze for a moment, and you can practically hear him swallow in an effort to respond. That request shouldn't have affected him so much, but he can already feel the heat rushing up his neck.

"... Yes," he finally manages to say, his voice hoarse. "Y-yes."

He sits up for a moment to take his shirt off, practically flinging it to the ground before he's back on you again, now with his bare chest flush against your own.

You grimace, though you still have your own shirt on, with less of a barrier you can feel how warm and damp he is. You return your hands to him, the heat of his back against the coolness of your hand. You rub your hand up and down, and grit your teeth at feeling his sinewy muscles twitch under your fingertips.

Why is the contrasting temperature difference between your body and his making him feel so sensitive? It's making him feel lightheaded with how your hand feels so good against his skin.

Almost on instinct, his hips grind against yours, seeking even more contact and friction. "Mmn.." he moans, his voice cracking into a ragged gasp.

You freeze, your eyes widening as you feel his hips move, grinding down against your thigh. “Ka-Kabru…”

He feels his heartbeat quicken at your reaction, and suddenly he's all too aware of how his body is moving against your own. How his hips are grinding, seeking more of that friction and contact that feels so good.

"Nggh don't-- Don't freeze up on me now." He tries to warn, but it comes out as a low, almost ragged plea. "Please don't, don't stop-- please."

His hips continue to move, and you bring both hands up to grab his cheeks. He nuzzles into your palms, his eyes hazy and face flushed. “Kabru… I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to, you know this magic is affecting you, and you’re not in your mind right now…”

He's so gone with the effect of the pollen, and your words almost seem to hang in the air for a moment with how he's too lost in the sensation of your hands and the feeling of your body flush against his own. But then the words actually register with his fuzzy, cloudy mind, and he groans, burying his face into your palm. "I know that, I know-- I know," he murmurs against your skin, his voice cracking. "I.. I want this. Please--"

You move his face again, making his hazy eyes look at you once more. “You’re sure? You’re ok with me helping you out?”

He's still grinding his hips against your thigh, his breathing labored and hitched as he tries to control himself. He wants you. He's craving you, and it must be so obvious in his expression and the way his body is moving against your own. It's taking all of his willpower to hold himself back from just taking you.

And yet, he knows. He knows that he is not in his right mind right now. So he swallows down a ragged moan, and nods weakly against your hands. "Yes."

You suck a breath in through your nose, closing your eyes momentarily to gather your bravery, and you use the grip on his cheeks to pull him level with your face, smashing your lips against his.

One moment, he's grinding down against you, seeking that friction that was driving him mad... and the next, he feels your hands tugging at his face to pull him up to your level. When he feels your lips against his, he practically sobs into your mouth, his mind going completely blank, overwhelmed by sensation.

He kisses you back greedily, his lips moving against your own with a feverish desperation that he's never felt before.

You feel his tongue immediately dart out, pushing against yours, him whimpering into your mouth as your tongues tangle. It’s sloppy, he doesn’t have the capacity to be precise at the moment, and his fingers dig into your skin. His hips had momentarily stopped in surprise, but he resumes grinding down, his position now switched so he’s nestled between your legs.

Your mouth is so perfect. So good. He wants to kiss you, wants to feel your tongue against his, and he practically keens when he feels you kiss him back with an equal fire.

His hips start to move again, now more confidently, more surely as he slots himself in between your legs. He lets out a whimper at the pressure, and his hands start to wander along your body.

His hand trails down to your chest, quickly finding your breast and squeezing the flesh, rolling it under his palm. You gasp into his mouth, moaning at the contact of both his hands and his hips grinding into yours.

He relishes how you moan against his mouth as his hand wanders down your chest, finding one breast and squeezing. He's greedy. Greedy to hear more sounds like that, to feel more of your body against his own.

His hips start to move more forcefully, the pressure driving him wild, and he almost growls into your mouth as his tongue tangles against your own. His other hand grips at whatever part of your body he can reach, holding tight to anchor himself to you.

He paws at you, and you allow him to explore, his hands moving quickly from place to place like he can’t decide where to touch. He untangles his mouth from yours, moving down to suck and bite at your neck messily, leaving saliva and marks behind as his whines against your skin.

He's practically drunk on the way you taste, addicted to how your body feels under his, and the pollen is making his mind feel fuzzy, hazy-- "Mine," he grunts against your skin.

You whimper at his words, your hands coming up to tangle in his hair, trying to pull him impossibly closer. You whine out loud as he leaves a particularly hard bite, his tongue soothing over it. “Ka…bru…”

He growls as you tug at the hair, the stinging sensation just adding on to the overwhelming amount of stimulus he's feeling right now. He knows that he's being rougher than usual, especially with the way he bit down on your neck just moments ago.

His tongue soothes over the bite mark, and he moans against your skin, his hips moving against yours in a relentless rhythm. He grinds against you, seeking more friction to satisfy his growing need.

His hands come down to grip the hem of your shirt, growling as he tugs his mouth away to pull it over your head, almost as if he’s angry at himself for having to be separated from your body for one second. Shirt off, he presses his chest against yours, grinding his entire body into you, licking your cheek.

You lift your legs to either side of him, making it easier for him to fit between them. He immediately drops his head to your chest, wrapping his lips around your exposed nipple and sucking hard. “Haaa-ahh!” You cry out, surprised by the intensity.

Gods, the way you sound when you cry out. The way you taste. He moans against your chest as he works his mouth against your breast, sucking hard.

He lets out another whine, his hips grinding against yours relentlessly, the pressure making him ache in the best way possible. "You're mine," he grunts against your skin. "All mine."

He switches sides a few times, nipping with his teeth and sucking, before you push lightly at his shoulders. “Nnngh… pants… off…” You demand.

He lets out a whine at the loss of your skin beneath his mouth, but he lets you push him back as you gasp out your request. Pants off—

His hands are already moving to fumble with the laces, working them off as quickly as possible until he's left in just his underwear.

He doesn't hesitate to press himself against you again, his hands gripping your hips to center himself as he resumes grinding against you.

You had somehow managed to pull your own bottoms down as fast as he had done his, so the only barrier between you was your underclothes. You whimper, feeling his heat between your thighs, embarrassed he could feel how damp your underwear had become in such a short time.

You're so wet-- The thought comes unbidden, but suddenly he is very much aware of it, aware of just how much you're enjoying this, how much you're enjoying him against you.

He gasps, almost akin to a whine, against your skin, and he can feel how the pollen has affected him, has left him a mess, desperate on top of you. "Can I...?" he pants, pulling away from your chest to look at you.

He lets out a ragged moan at your nod, his eyes dark with desire. He's panting, breathing heavily as he looks at you.

He sits back on his heels and gently pulls your underwear down your thighs, exposing your flushed skin beneath him. He hesitates for a moment, his gaze wandering across your body, taking in the sight of you beneath him, and he groans, leaning down to leave another bite mark on your hip.

You gasp, which fades into a moan as he sucks a mark, his hands coming up to part your thighs.

He growls, making room for himself to move in between them. His mouth wanders across your hip, making sure to mark your skin with a few more bites before he looks back up at you with a hazy stare.

He gasps hoarsely, his voice cracking as he watches your expression. He lifts up one of your legs, placing it over his shoulder. "Look at you~"

You shudder at the reverence in his voice, embarrassed by how closely he’s inspecting you. You whine as he brings up his fingers to test your wetness, rubbing them together and making a string between. You whimper, looking away.

His pupils blow out wide, and he can feel the way your body shudders beneath him. His gaze is almost piercing as he looks at you, his eyes raking down your body, taking in every little detail. You shut your eyes as you start to feel overwhelmed.

"No, no... look at me," he commands urgently, bringing his other hand up to gently grab your chin, gently pulling your face up to look at him. "I want to see you.”

You scrunch your face, but look at him as he had asked. His eyes are lidded, and his face is still flushed. He leans down, placing a teasing kiss on your lower stomach, keeping eye contact while he does so.

"Good," he croons against your skin. "Gods, you're so good for me." One of his hands comes up, moving up to gently cup one of your breasts in his palm. "So good, so perfect."

You whimper again, both turned on and embarrassed by the praise. “Wh-what are you going to do…?”

He chuckles, his fingers teasingly rubbing against your nipple as he speaks, "What do you think I'm going to do?" he asks lightly, his mouth against your stomach again as he lets out a warm breath of air over your skin.

"I'm going to taste you." he answers, his eyes never leaving yours. "Going to make you mine, completely."

He moves down, his hot breath falling against your center. You bite your lip, wondering where he suddenly got all this patience from when he was so desperate before.

His mouth slowly moves lower, and lower, his tongue darting out to sample you, drawing a long, slow stripe against your skin. He groans at the feeling, the taste of you, and he wants—

But he restrains himself, moving his head to nip at the inside of your thigh instead. His hands massage your skin as his mouth teases around you.

You whine, your hand resting atop his head. “Shouldn’t we be… helping y-you… not me?”

He lets out a shaky breath against your skin, his mouth pulling away from your thigh for a moment, though his hands remain pressed against you. "Later," he pants out. "I'll deal with that... later. Let me... Let me focus on you, for now."

He lets out a ragged gasp as he takes another look at you, taking in the way you're spread out in front of him, helpless beneath him. "L-let me focus--"

You clench around nothing, his strong, hyper focused gaze making you feel extra sensitive. “Kabru…” You whimper his name mindlessly.

He lets out a groan at the way you clench around nothing, and he desperately wants to replace his gaze with something else.

He leans his head down again, bringing his mouth back between your legs, just to teasingly run his tongue against your folds. "Just... just relax, sweetheart," he whispers, his breath against your skin.

Despite his words, your stomach clenches as his tongue dips into your folds. You whine again, and his eyes flutter shut as he tastes you. You feel desperate suddenly, your eyebrow twitching. This was supposed to be making him feel better, and yet he’s toying with you?

"Patience," he murmurs against you, his voice rough. He can tell that you're getting restless, but he doesn't mind that at the moment. He wants to feel you writhe beneath him, wants to hear your desperate whimpers, wants to feel you clench around nothing as his tongue teases you.

He mouths at you with a slow, deliberate pace, not letting you get what you want too easily.

At that, your mind momentarily forgets he’s under a magical effect, that vexation at his bravado returning. You thread your hands in his hair, tugging hard. He whimpers as you pull his head back, hissing at him. “As much fun as you’re having, we don’t have all day.”

He lets out a low, needy whine as you tug at his hair, his body shuddering as he lets you pull his head back. He lets out a shaky exhale as he looks up at you, his gaze hazy with want, but also slightly surprised at how commanding you're suddenly being.

"I know we don't," he says. "But you just look so good, like this. You just... I just want-- I need--" He bites his lip, trying to find the words to express himself.

You feel bad instantly, knowing he can’t control himself right now, shame flooding you. You loosen your grip, smoothing his hair instead. “I know… I want you to feel better, but you’re going to make it worse if you drag it out. Let me help you, please?”

He lets out a low whine as you soothe his hair, and he leans into your touch, feeling his breath hitch in his throat. He nods a bit at your request, giving in to your words even as his body tries to resist.

But even still... even though he wants to protest, wants to keep teasing you, just to hear that pretty voice of yours, his body is begging for more. "Please," he gasps out, looking at you with wide, pleading eyes. "Please, help me."

You shudder at the need in his voice, and part your thighs more. “If this is what you want…” you gently push his head down, “then take it…”

His eyes go half-lidded as he gazes back down at you, his mouth parting slightly as his breath stutters in his throat. He can feel the pollen making it hard to think, making it hard to resist, and he can feel your fingers, gentle but firm, guiding him back down, back to your heat.

He lets out a low groan as his tongue begins to taste you again, and his hands grip tighter against your thighs.

You bite your lip, trying to hold back your sounds as he fully puts all his effort into devouring you, his grip on your hips tight as he pulls you against his face, nearly smothering himself.

He's desperate in his want, his need for more of you, his tongue working against your skin, trying to get as much of you as he can.

He lets out another desperate whine against you as his tongue dips deeper, trying to lick into you more.

You feel your eyes flutter, hand tangling in his hair again, this time just holding him while you rock up your hips, keeping time with his pace. You whine out as he groans into you, the vibrations shooting heat through your stomach. “Nnnghh… good… feels.. good..” You whimper.

He lets out a strangled moan as your fingers grip his hair, his eyes practically rolling back at the feeling of your fingers against his scalp, holding him tight against you.

He can feel the way your hips rock up to meet his motions, the way you whine out at his sounds against you, and it drives him wild. He doubles his efforts, trying to get more, more—

You feel the bed rock, and realize he’s grinding his hips down as he pushes his tongue into you. You moan aloud, turned on by how much he’s getting off on this alone. You accidentally press down, smushing his face harder into you as you clench, your body heating up.

He shivers as you press down against him, his hands digging into your skin as he lets out a gasp against you. He's almost lost in the feeling of you clenching around his tongue, his eyes closing as he moans against you, his hips pressing down into the bed as he grinds against the pressure.

He can feel the pollen taking hold of him again, and it makes him desperate for more, makes him need more of you. He lets out another hitched moan against you, his tongue lapping up every drop of you he can collect.

You moan, body rocking both from your own movement and his, your head falling back against the pillow. “Fingers… please…” You manage to gasp out.

He lets out another whine as you plead for him, shuddering at the pleasured sound of your voice. For a moment, he thinks about denying you, not giving you what you want just yet, wanting to hear you beg for him...

But the pollen in his veins is making his brain fuzzy, making him desperate, and he wants to please you, wants you to sing for him. His head pulls back from you for just a moment, and he pants against your skin.

His hand comes down between your thighs again, his fingers parting you as his tongue quickly gets back to work, and you keen as you feel both start to press inside of you. “Y-yes….” your breath hitches, and you flop back against his ruffled pillow again.

He's frantic, his hands moving desperately, his teeth occasionally biting marks into your skin as he works his mouth over all of you. He's drowning in you, greedy for more, begging and pleading and whining into you as his head moves against you.

He can't think straight, can't do anything other than focus on you, on the way you taste, on the way you sound.

He lets out a ragged gasp against you when you suddenly squeeze down, your heat and tightness making him dizzy. He’s frozen in place for just a moment as he feels you clenching around him, feeling like he's already on the edge, like he's already so, so…

He finally regains his bearings, moving his fingers inside you, trying to give you some of what you need as he whimpers desperately against you once again.

He starts to pump them into you, his own hips bucking against the bed, whining and laving his tongue against you, the pollen once again ravaging his mind as he gives into the pleasure.

His body is shaking uncontrollably, breath coming out in desperate gasps as he pumps his fingers into you. He can feel the pollen making his head go fuzzy, making him struggle to even think, his body giving control over to instinct as he gives into the pleasure, the need to feel you. “So good," he pants out hoarsely. "Gods, you feel so good-"

Your back arches, your breath coming out heavy as you focus on the feeling of his fingers. “Good… need it… haaahh-“

He lets out a low, ragged moan as he feels you arch up into him, his fingers pumping into you again, trying to find the perfect rhythm. His eyes are half-lidded, darkened with need as he looks up at you, wanting to see your face as he takes you, as he pleases you. "I need you," he gasps out desperately. "Need you so badly- please!”

You clench around his fingers again, and he groans, fading into a high pitched whine as he leans down, burying his face into you again. The bed rocks harshly as he grinds down even harder, his shoulders trembling against your thighs.

The sounds that leave him are broken and ragged, almost animalistic, as he tries to hold back his own moans. The bed is shaking at the force of his grinding, his body moving on pure instinct as he tries to take more of you, to feel you all around him-

He suddenly lifts his head, moans tumbling from his lips as his eyes roll back in his head. His body shudders, mouth falling out with small panting whines coming from him. He shakes for a moment, his hand stilling as his head flops forward, the shaking of the bed stopping. You lift your head curiously.

He's panting against you, a strangled, broken sound, as he slowly works his way back down from the wave of pleasure that crashes over him. His body is shuddering against yours, the remnants of the pollen making his brain go fuzzy as his head rests against you.

He seems to realize that you're looking at him, and he slowly opens his eyes to look back at you, his face still flushed and breath labored. "..mmm.." he groans out between pants.

You bite your lip, looking at his fucked out expression. “Kabru..? Did you just..?”

He turns red at your words and he shuts his eyes, his head flopping down again as he tries to catch his breath. "..I.. I may have..." he says with an embarrassed groan. "..it was too much, you were too much-"

You rub his head softly, the pleasure in your own body softening back to a lull for the moment. “It’s ok… you were feeling good…”

He shivers at your touch, his eyes closing again at the soothing feel of your fingers in his hair. He lets out another low groan, the last of the tension seeming to slip from his body as he leans into your palm. "..it felt amazing," he gasps out between breaths. "You... you felt amazing, too good. I couldn't help it."

You smirk a bit, your own breathing returning to normal. You pet his head for a moment longer, before you pause. “Do you… do you want to stop now..?”

He blinks up at you for a moment, his mind still a bit fuzzy from the pleasure just moments before. He almost thinks about stopping, before he feels another overwhelming wave of need, of want, crash over him again.

He shuts his eyes for a moment, taking a shaky breath as he tries to get more control over himself, before he looks back up at you again. "No," he gasps out, his eyes dark with desire. "More, please, need more of you-"

He starts moving his fingers again, and your eyes widen, letting out a surprised moan as the hunger returns to his gaze. At the very least, his release gave him some clarity, so he’s entirely focused on you now, his tongue coming back down to rub against you, his eyes never leaving yours.

His eyes stay locked on as he works you back up, the desire, the need still burning strong in his gaze as he moves his fingers against you. He's determined now, focused on one thing and one thing only, on making you cry out for him, on letting himself please you.

His tongue works against you with precision, moving in practiced motions as he watches you for any tiny reaction, any tiny sound.

You breathe out a long moan, the dormant fire in your blood kicking back up as he returns his attention to you. Your thighs tighten together over his shoulders, squishing his face between.

He closes his eyes as he feels you squeeze around him, a low moan rumbling in his chest as his head is trapped between your thighs. His fingers keep moving desperately, and he keeps lapping at you, tasting as much of you as he can, lost in the sensation, in the pleasure.

You arch up again against his mouth. “Need to finish… wanna come for you…”

He lets out another low moan at your words, a shudder going through his body at the sound of your voice. He's desperate to give you what you want, to make you feel good.

His hands keep moving, pumping his fingers as his tongue keeps sliding against you desperately, taking in as much of you as he can. He wants to make you finish, to make you fall over the edge, all for him.

You whine, your hips bucking as you whimper out a string of curses. “Shit I’m close… gonna come… please…”

He whimpers low in his chest, his eyes closing and breath stuttering for a moment as he hears you whine and curse. He wants nothing more than to give you what you need, to give you what you want, and so he moves his fingers and tongue faster, working you towards your completion as he gasps out. "Please, please, please-" he whines desperately against you.

He sucks your clit into his mouth, and at that your head snaps back, your eyes rolling as you crest over the edge. You hold your breath for just a moment, then it all comes whooshing out as you nearly scream, hips snapping against his hand and face as you reach your release.

His own eyes flutter shut as you come, a muffled groan leaving him as he feels your body shudder and tense against him. He tries to keep his hands and mouth moving, to keep working you through the pleasure, desperate to draw out every last wave of it that he can. He feels satisfaction at the way you call out for him, at the way you clench around him.

You whimper as you come down from your high, Kabru cleaning you off with his tongue. The overstimulation hits and you try to push him away.

He lifts his head at your insistence, his eyes hazy and dilated as he slowly comes down as well. His expression turns apologetic as he realizes the overstimulation, and he quickly pulls his face away from you. He lets out a shaky breath, his body shuddering at the essence of you still on his tongue. He wipes his mouth as he hovers over you again, his chest rising and falling rapidly as his eyes rake over your body.

Your chest heaves as you attempt to recover, looking up at him with your eyes lidded in satisfaction.

He just stares down at you for a moment, his eyes taking in your flushed skin, your lidded eyes, the way your chest heaves as you recover. He feels his desire flare up again at the sight, his body aching for more, for everything, but he manages to keep himself back, for the moment.

He pants softly as he runs his eyes over you again, before finally letting out a shaky groan. "You're so beautiful," he blurts out.

You reach up, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to bring him down for a kiss, lips meshing together more slowly than before, but still filled with need.

He lets out a low groan into the kiss as you pull him down, melting against you as your lips press together. Some of the frantic and desperate need from earlier is gone, replaced instead by a different, subtler kind of burn.

He moves his body against yours, pressing himself up to you, his arms wrapping around you, holding you against him as he savors the feeling of your lips against his.

You kiss like that for a moment longer, before you feel his need poking at your hip once more, hips bucking into yours as he starts to kiss you more frantically, the pollen once again overtaking his mind, panting against your mouth and hips stuttering.

He lets out a shuddered gasp as his hips buck up again, his body instinctively seeking out more contact, more pleasure. The need, the desire, is back in full force as he kisses you more frantically, desperately, his hands gripping your body like a lifeline.

"Please..." he pleads softly against you between pants. "Please, please—"

You spread your legs some more, letting him slide in between again. You reach down, taking his hardness in your hand and guiding it to rub against your entrance. “Come on…”

He lets out a shaky breath against you, his body trembling with the sensation, the need running through him. Before he can doubt himself, he moves his hips again, pushing into you, his eyes squeezing shut as the pleasure hits him.

"Ah-" he gasps softly, his breath shuddering even more in his chest as he burrows his face into your neck, his hands gripping at your body again.

You feel him shake as he makes his way in, seated inside you. He hovers over you, looking down to watch himself disappear inside you, mouth hanging open and eyes wide.

He pauses there, screwing his eyes shut and trying to retain his sanity. You dig your nails into his back to bring him back to earth.

His eyes shoot open at the feeling of your nails digging into his skin, a soft moan escaping him at the slight sting. He tries to remember to breathe, to stay focused. "You feel so good…!"

You move your hips just a little. “Kabru.. need you to move.” You whine.

He lets out another shuddered gasp at the feeling of your hips stuttering when you say that, and he quickly nods, desperate to make you feel good, to give you what you need.

"Okay, okay-" he pants, his voice shaky. He starts to move his own hips then, slowly at first, pulling almost all the way back before pushing back in again.

You tilt your head back, exposing your neck as you tremble and whine, inadvertently clenching around him. Even with the preparation, it’s still a good stretch.

He feels you clench around him, a shaky moan falling from his lips. He grips at your hips with his hands, holding you firmly as he finds a rhythm, slowly working up to a steadier pace.

He lowers his head to your neck, nuzzling and kissing at the exposed skin, desperately trying to keep himself in control.

You arch, pushing yourself up into him. While it feels good and you’re enjoying this, you know he needs more to feel better. You look at him, foreheads pressing together as you look in his gorgeous blue eyes. “D-don’t try to control yourself, you need this, take what you want.”

He lets out another low moan as you arch into him, his eyes shutting for a moment at the sensation. But then he feels your forehead press up against his, and he slowly opens his eyes to look at you again.

He can see the concern in the way you look at him, the way you talk, and he feels a pang of affection for you in his chest. He also knows the pollen's still getting to his brain a bit. "Are you... sure..?" he gasps out. "I don't want to hurt.. to overwhelm-“

You bite your lip, deciding if there’s any moment to be honest, it’s this one. “It’s fine.. I… like when it hurts a little…”

His eyes widen at your words, the confession taking him a little off guard. He shivers, a shudder running through his body as his eyes rake over your face, trying to figure out if you're telling the truth. He lets out another breath, the words still bouncing around his head.

You flush, embarrassed at his lack of response. “Ok well if you want to go all slow be my guest…” You mumble.

He lets out a soft scoff at your shyness, affection welling up in his chest at the way your face flushes. He moves to kiss your forehead before leaning down to press his lips to your cheek, followed by him sliding down your jaw to nibble gently at your neck. "Was just making sure, is all," he mumbles gently against your skin. "You... like the pain, huh..?"

As he says that, he snaps his hips against yours, making a cry bubble from your lips. You furrow your brow. “I-I….”

His eyes darken as he hears your moan, your mewl at the movement of his hips. His fingers dig gently into your hips as he starts to move again, more purposely this time, his eyes glued to your face, watching your expressions intently. "You like it when it hurts.." he breathes into your ear.

You blush, moans being forced out of you as he picks up the pace with each sentence, his hips punctuating everything he says with a sharp thrust. You gasp, “Y-yeah… feels g-good-!”

He lets a soft snicker out as he watches you flush in embarrassment, the sight only serving to encourage him further. His eyes rake over your face hungrily, drinking in all your expressions, the way you flush and the way you gasp for breath, the way your words seem to come out involuntarily.

He starts to pick up the pace more, shifting his hips a bit and adjusting the angle-

"There. What about there..?" he asks you, voice strained.

He feels you squeeze around him as he hits your most sensitive spot, your body tensing as a moan falls from your lips. A smirk tugs at his lips as he takes note, filing it away for future reference. "Right there...," he purrs into your ear, watching your expression intently as he angles his hips and starts to move against you again.

Your hands clench his back, nails digging in hard enough to leave marks as he starts to hit that spot over and over. You try to say his name, but it only comes out as a gurgle.

He hisses softly as he feels your nails digging into his back again, the slight sting adding a pleasant sensation to the needy feeling running through him.

He groans at the way you whimper and squirm underneath him, the sound of his name leaving your lips in a garbled moan driving him crazy. He keeps working his hips up into you, moving against you frantically.

He presses his face into your neck, hips moving at a brutal pace, not wanting to be separated for even a second. You hold him to you tightly, wrapping your whole body around him.

He lets out a strangled gasp as he feels your grip, your hold on him tight and your limbs encircling him. He can feel himself getting lost in the sensation of you, every fiber in his body craving more, more, more.

He keeps his face buried in your neck, breathing in your scent as he keeps on slamming his hips against you, frantically, desperately, his fingers gripping your hips tightly.

He sits up suddenly, pulling your calves up onto his shoulders. You start to ask what he’s doing, but instead heave a loud moan as he bends you in half, leaning forward to push into you again. “Oh… oh gods..!”

He lets out a groan of pleasure as he moves your legs up onto his shoulders, the new position letting him push himself deeper into you, and he pants loudly as he feels you clench around him, your words getting cut off mid-sentence. "You good..?" he asks you between breaths, wanting to make sure you're alright in the new position.

You open your mouth and a cry tumbles out. You squeeze your eyes shut. “So deep… please… more…”

He lets out another noise when he hears your cry, the sound shooting straight to his gut. His hands grip onto your legs at your words, heart skipping a beat with desire.

"Yeah, I got you... I'll give you more..." he gasps as he starts to move again, angling himself against that spot he'd found earlier and starting a steady rhythm, working up to a slightly faster pace.

You try hard to keep your eyes open, his dark lust filled ones keeping eye contact, his face much closer as he drives into you like this. The new angle feels so intense, you can’t even try to close your mouth, every breath accompanied by some kind of pleasured noise.

He keeps his eyes fixed on yours as he moves into you, watching, drinking up the way your face twists and the sounds that fall from your lips, the way your breaths and gasps are getting more labored.

Between all his gasps and panting, he manages to speak a few times, his words shaky, raspy, as he tells you how good you feel, how much he needs you.

His hips slap against you and you bite your lip hard, surely bruising yourself at how much you’re feeling. “Gods… need it so bad… want you to fill me up.. hannghh-!”

He lets out a shuddering moan at your desperate whines, his eyes darkening as his hands grip your legs with a little more pressure. He can feel the building tension in him starting to get more and more intense, his eyes raking over your face desperately. “Yeah, you want it that bad, huh..? Need me to fill you up, baby..?" he pants out, voice strained with the effort.

You nod mindlessly, feeling your eyes go out of focus at his words. “Need it… please.. give it to me….”

He gasps as he sees your face start to twist in front of him, your eyes glazing over and your words sounding almost mindless. He lets out a shaky moan at the desperate tone of your voice, his body getting tight with tension. "Yeah… yeah, I will, you’ll take it-" he gasps out as his pace starts to get more and more frantic, moving against you roughly.

In the back of your mind you wonder if some of that pollen had rubbed off on you, acting even more desperate than the party leader above you. You tilt your head back, enjoying the sensation of his hips pounding into you.

You gasp and moan again as he keeps pumping into you, feeling the burning pleasure building in your abdomen again. You bring your hand down, fingers rubbing circles against yourself to help bring you to the edge.

He can feel the way your body starts to tense up, your moans getting more and more frequent, and he knows that you're close.

He watches as your hand comes down to touch yourself, the movement making his heart start to pound in his chest harder.

"Gods- just like that, baby.. please-" he gasps out, voice strained.

You look up again, making eye contact with him, and a spark of pleasure shoots through you. You whine, bucking your hips up as best you can from your position. “Gonna come again… oh gods… gonna come for you…”

He lets out a shaky gasp as he sees you look up at him, your eyes making direct contact with his, and he whimpers at the feeling that comes with the sight.

He keeps moving against you while trying to control himself, not wanting to lose himself too soon. But at the sound of your whine and your words- "Please baby.... come for me-"

At his response, your eyes slam shut, your body tensing for a moment before you thrash, your pleasure being ripped from you as you reach your high again. You tremble around him, both your thighs and insides clenching as he keeps his harsh pace through it.

His eyes go wide as he watches you come undone in front of him, your body tensing and trembling as he keeps moving against you, the feeling almost sending him over the edge.

He moans loudly as he feels you clench around him, the sight of you in front of him, the sounds you involuntarily make, the way you thrash as you reach your high making the tension in his body almost unbearable-

"Gods- Gods, baby-" he gasps out again, his eyes squeezing shut.

You shiver and whimper as he keeps going, “Please…” You moan out “Come inside… please…”

He feels another pang of pleasure go through him when he hears your voice, shaky and needy. Each word from your mouth only makes it harder to hold onto any semblance of control, makes him want to give in even more.

He pants as he picks up his pace, moving harder, deeper into you as he feels himself close to the edge. He almost moans out your name in between the gasps and pants as he gets closer and closer- "Yeah... gonna... hah.. gonna give it to you-!”

He falls silent, his head dipping down as he concentrates, his brow furrowing as he buries himself in you over and over, gasping as he teeters right on the edge.

He tries to hold on just a bit longer, trying to draw out this moment in time as long as possible, savoring the feeling of moving against you, the sound of you moaning right in his ear. “Fuck-" he gasps out- "Hah- please.. I'm gonna- mmph-"

He slams his hips into you frantically, his vision going white as he finally reaches his climax.

His eyes squeeze closed as he loses control, his hips moving in quick, rough bursts as he feels himself reach his peak, his fingers digging into your hip as he gasps and writhes.

He lets out a shaky moan as he feels his release wash over him, his body tense as his hips twitch while he rides out his orgasm, moving instinctively against you. He groans out your name in between the pants and moans as he shudders and trembles.

He feels himself twitch inside you, the sensation sending sparks through his body as he pants desperately, still coming down from his high.

He leans against you, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his body pressed against yours, still moving against you slowly. He lets out a shaky gasp, his breath hot against your skin as he tries to catch his breath.

You bring your hand up, moving his damp hair from his forehead, feeling him still twitching.

He shudders when he feels you touch his forehead, his hair sticking to his skin from the exertion and sweat. He shuts his eyes as he feels your hand move along his face, your fingers tangling in his hair gently. His breathing still has a bit of a tremble, his body shuddering from the aftershocks.

He lets out a soft gasp as he feels himself twitch again, the feeling starting to get just a bit overstimulating.

You sigh out as he breathes, slowly returning to normal. He lays still for just a moment, yet suddenly his hips snap up again. He whimpers, a mix of pain and pleasure, but his hips move again as if they have a mind of their own.

His eyes widen when he feels his hips move without his control, his body acting on its own as it seems to be searching for more friction. His whimpers are shaky, caught somewhere between bliss and discomfort.

He gasps as he feels himself twitch again, the sensation of being overstimulated making him shiver. "Wait-" he gasps, voice trembling, "help me- please…"

You gasp as you feel him drive into you again, sensitive from just before. “Kabru..?” You question.

He lets out a whimper as he moves into you again, the mixture of pleasure and sensitivity causing him to shiver as he moans.

He feels his cock twitch inside you again, another wave of sensation running through him. He pants out a shaky "Please-" as he lets himself get caught up in the feeling, his eyes going half-lidded again.

You shiver at the movement. “What’s… you’re still..?”

He trembles as he hears your words, his mind feeling fuzzy with pleasure. He bites down on his lip as he tries to get control of his thoughts again. "Hah- Yeah… yeah, I-” he gasps out, voice shaky and trembly. "I-I don’t… think I’m done-”

You feel his arm muscles shake with exertion, picking himself up to hover over you again, a complicated look on his face, over sensitive but still craving the sensation.

He swallows hard as he looks down at you, his expression torn between discomfort and craving more. His body is still seeking out friction without his control, his hips grinding against yours.

You furrow your brows, concerned. “You… doesn’t it hurt…?” You run your hands through his hair, him whimpering and pushing up into your palm, his hips snapping again and he lets out a cry.

His expression of pleasure falters when you ask him if it hurts, your words reminding him of the overwhelming feeling he’s experiencing. He lets out a shaky whine as he nods, his hips still moving despite himself.

You bite your lip, feeling bad for him. It hurt him to continue, but it also hurt to not continue. You consider what to do, and bring your hand to his cheek as he whimpers, hips twitching.

He whines again at the feeling of his hips moving, the conflicting feelings of pleasure and pain making it difficult to think straight.

Determined to help, you wrap yourself around him suddenly, pushing with all your might to flip his heavy form without crushing any important parts. He looks up at you in surprise as you smile down at him, still straddling him. “You’re tired… let me help?”

He lets out a shaky breath as he looks up at you, still somewhat tired from the previous session. He nods eagerly at your words, a silent plea for you to help him let his body rest.

You feel him relax a bit and smile, getting up on your heels and hearing him whimper uselessly at the slide. You place your hands on his chest for leverage, slowly starting to grind up and down on him.

He gasps as he feels you moving on top of him, his eyes widening again as he watches you, hands clenching around the sheets beneath him. The feeling of you grinding up and down against him sends sparks of pleasure through his body, the mixture of oversensitivity and pleasure making him shiver and whine involuntarily. "Gods- Baby- please-" he gasps out, voice trembling.

You gasp in tandem as your own body feels the ache, still moving so you can give him relief. “I got you…”

He feels his body shiver again as he watches you move on top of him, his eyes fixed on you as he swallows hard. The overstimulation is still sending waves of pleasure and pain through his body, but the feeling of you trying to give him relief makes his heart flutter. "Hah- I-I know, baby, I know… you’ve got me…" he moans out, his voice broken as he speaks.

You bounce a little harder, breath whooshing out of Kabru every time you drop back down. He releases his grip on the sheets and brings his hands up to loosely rest on your hips.

You run your hands over his chest, moaning “You just.. c-couldn’t end there huh? Needed more~!”

He moans softly as he feels your hands roaming over his chest, the feeling sending shivers through his body. He bites down on his lip as he listens to you, a shaky smile crossing his face as he nods weakly. "Y-Yeah…" he gasps out, voice trembling. "I couldn’t.. couldn’t stop, I need-" he moans, his hips pushing up instinctively against you.

You shut your eyes, focusing on bouncing on him, clenching every time you go up. “You’re gonna… fill me again… hah..”

He gasps at the feeling of you clenching around him, his head tossing back against the bed as he lets out a moan. His breath comes out in whimpers, each one more shaky than the last as he feels himself be pushed down with every movement. “Yeah- yess- I-Hah-” he gasps out, voice trembling as his hips push up once again, trying to meet you in the middle.

You move as fast and hard as you can, his whines picking up in tone as he pushes back against you, so close again already.

His breath is coming out in desperate stutters as you move on top of him, the feeling of you bouncing on him pushing him quickly towards the edge. He feels his body trembling harder, his hands clenching on your hips tightly as he pushes back against you, desperate for more stimulation. “Hah-! Baby-!” he moans, his voice trembling as he gets close again. “Gods- please… please-“

It takes only a few seconds later, and you feel him tense, his face melted in an expression of desire.

He reaches his high, body tensing and shaking as he lets out a loud gasp, his head tossed back against the bed. His eyes slam shut tight, face frozen in intense pleasure as he moans loudly, his body trembling and twitching beneath you.

“Hahh- f-fuck-!” he cries out, body tightening as he rides it out.

You bounce a few more times to milk him, but he whines, this time is pain, and you sink down on his lap, panting.

He swallows hard, his breath coming out in weak gasps, hands still clenching on your hips tightly.

You lift up, pulling off him, and he whines again, but sighs as you remove yourself and flop down next to him.

He lays there, breathing heavily, still trying to catch his breath and steady himself. He closes his eyes, feeling exhausted and oversensitive in the aftermath of his climax.

You both lay there for a few more moments, his eyes still closed as he tries to even out his breathing. He can feel the exhaustion in his body, the ache in his limbs, his chest rising and falling with each breath.

After a few more moments he opens his eyes, turning to look over at you. He’s still panting slightly as he lays there, looking somewhat drained and exhausted, but there’s a soft, almost grateful look in his eyes.

As he makes eye contact, reality comes back, and you blush, looking at the ceiling instead. It’s silent for a moment. “You feel better?

He stares at you for a moment, his gaze studying your flushed face and averted eyes, and he can't help but crack a faint smile at your blushing. He stays still for a few moments longer, the silence growing thicker.

He considers your question, taking stock of how his body feels. The hazy, oversensitized feeling has receded, leaving a more general soreness in its place. He nods slightly. "Yeah… I feel better. Thank you,” he says hoarsely.

You blush harder, keeping your gaze on the ceiling. “You’re welcome..” You remain there for another moment before sitting up, clearing your throat. “You’re.. okay now?”

When he nods, you determine that he’s worked everything out, your back aching as you raise yourself off the bed. “Alright good… the others will be back with the doctor soon so…” You trail off.

He watches you as you sit up, noticing the way you wince slightly as your back aches. He feels a pang of guilt, seeing the aftereffects of the pollen on your body.

At your words, he swallows hard, nodding slowly. "Yeah…" he says quietly. There's a moment of awkward silence between the two of you, the realization of what just happened hitting both of you with full force. The others would be returning soon.

You stand, your legs shaking slightly. “I’ll uh… head to my room… if you need me again just…” You look away, too embarrassed to make eye contact.

His gaze follows you as you stand up, his eyes flickering subtly as he notices the slight tremble in your legs. He knows that he’s at least somewhat responsible for your current state.

He swallows as you speak, his eyes widening a bit as you look away, too embarrassed to meet his gaze. He’s suddenly hit by how different this situation is outside of the haze of the pollen. He nods awkwardly, still sitting on the bed. "Alright. Yeah. I’ll… I’ll.. keep that in mind," he stutters.

You quickly get dressed, the two of you silently and awkwardly moving around the room. After you finish putting your clothes back on, you head to the door, giving him a nod before stepping into the hallway.

He watches as you quickly get dressed, the silence between the two of you filled only by the sounds of fabric rustling and you moving around the room. When you finish, he frowns as he watches you move towards the door, feeling a pang of something in his chest as you give him a final nod.

His eyes follow you as you step out into the hallway, leaving him alone in the room. He groans, his mind racing, wrestling with the strange mixture of emotions swirling inside him after what just happened between the two of you.

*—*

a/n: sorry if the formatting is weird i pumped this out on my train ride today. anyway uh this was inspired by beooum’s character ai bot prompt and it got my brain moving, so enjoy my rambles as i procrastinate more of my school work!

#kabru #dunmeshi #dungeon meshi #smut #kabru x reader #x reader #dungeon meshi smut #dunmeshi smut #kabru of utaya #delicious in dungeon #IM REPOSTING BC I WENT TO EDIT AND I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED IT #TUMBLR MOBILE MY WORST ADVERSARY WTF

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pienhime · 3 months

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my ten manga/game/anime/etc recs for jirai

hiii long time no long ass recs post! i wanna recommend media that is popular w landmine types for newbies to the subculture, and recommendations for those who might have been here long enough to know the most popular media within jirai subculture and want some recommendations beyond that!

so without further ado...

1. Tomorrow, I Will Become Someone's Girlfriend

TW: unsafe sex work, abusive relationships, body dysmorphia, self harm, substance use, misogyny, and parental death

Okay you knew this was coming. It's probably the most popular manga amongst jirai girls as it literally is about Kabukicho, sex work, trauma, and jirai culture. Everyone's seen Yua at this point, and she is a jiraicon, but the other characters are interesting and may be relatable to jirai girls too!

2. Mahou Shoujo Site

TW: sexual assault, r@pe, abusive family dynamics, transphobia, self-harm, suicide, murder, gore, bullying, human sacrifice

This is probably also familiar to people in the jirai community and yandereblr. Super mega fucked-up parody of magical girl animes with a cast of memorable but mentally unhinged and often morally gray-to-terrible characters with a hopeful message at the end. The most unfortunate girls around Japan get given magical girl items to improve their lives, but using them drains their life force- and someone's on the hunt for magical girls, all while the countdown to the apocalypse ticks down on the mysterious magical girl site. DO NOT BOTHER WITH THE ANIME, JUST READ THE MANGA!!

3. Needy Girl Overdose/Needy Streamer Overload

TW: substance abuse, self-harm, murder (potentially), suicide, non-graphic sexual content, abuse (player is being abused by the main character), unreality, internet addiction

Duh. I can't not have this game on here! Created by a renowned menhera subculture artist and featuring Jirai icons Ame-chan and KAngel, this game has blown up unexpectedly since its release, getting art exhibits and collabs with brands like DearMyLove. You play as P-chan, Ame/KAngel's boyfriend and producer, while you try to help her achieve her goals of becoming an influencer and prevent her from killing herself or going insane along the way. If you've been in a relationship like this as the P-chan, I'm sorry we relate but this game was super therapeutic to me so maybe it'll help you process too!! Also the soundtrack fucks. Hard.

4. Neeko wa Tsurai Yo!

TW: agoraphobia, existentialism, substance use (kind of), ecchi (of both adult and high schooler characters), suicidal ideation, internet addiction

This is a super underrated personal favorite I've posted about a few times before. It follows hikki-NEET gacha gamer Niiko, as she faces jealousy of her little sister for being farther in life than her as a high-schooler, the trauma of a particularly horrific job rejection keeping her from going outside or trying for another job, and being totally fed up with her life. It's a pretty depressing read for the first half, but becomes a realistic story about recovery by the end.

5. Wristcut Warriors: Menherachan

TW: suicide attempts, self-harm (duh), parental abuse, parental death, parental neglect, attempted sexual assault, mild gore, societal ableism/sanism

Much more popular in the menhera subculture than anywhere else, but still popular enough with landmine types to be included, and a personal comfort series of mine. This is a satire manga about three teenage magical girls who have to self-harm to transform, meant as an allegory for how suffering and self-sacrifice for the sake of upholding societal norms is seen as more noble in Japan than speaking out etc. It's pretty short with only 20 chapters and some supplemental material, and tons of merch collabs but due to Ezaki being the actual fucking worst i encourage you to only but fanmerch and second-hand.

6. Danganronpa

TW: murder, suicide, ableist depiction of DID, misgendering (kind of, im not getting into ******* discourse so ill put it jic), SA, addiction,and general violence and blood

I'm biased as a Danganronpa multi-kin and selfshipper but I personally think every jirai should play Danganronpa, read the supplemental materials and watch DR3 if they can. Quirky teens with mental issues locked in a school and forced to kill each other or themselves? Prime insanity and mindbreaking ensues, with some really cool characters coming out of the franchise. Despite the premise, theres a pretty hopeful message.

7. Oshi no Ko

TW: stalking, teen pregnancy, exploitation of minors, suicide attempts, murder, terminal illness, age gap relationships, bullying, abortion, parasocial relationships, and... sigh... pseudo-incest is apparently in the manga as well

If you are into idol anime and expect your standard cinderella story about passionate girls and guys hitting it big... Oshi no Ko isn't the idol anime you're used to. This doesn't even follow the hit idol herself- rather, her two children who are reincarnated fans. They have to find their way in the exploitative and often dark showbiz world while trying to solve their mother's murder.

8. Bocchi the Rock!

TW: agoraphobia, alcohol abuse

I only watched this one recently, but it's already an all-time fav. It follows agoraphobic and severly socially anxious Hitori (aka Bocchi), and her newfound friends as they do their best to become a successful local band! They make odd friends along the way and Bocchi starts to try to recover and better herself, with often comedic failures along the way.

9. TUYU's interconnected songs

TW: abuse, substance abuse, unsafe SW, dysmorphia, suicide, self harm, parasocialism

Okay so... ik the timing is bad but I meant to make this list ages ago and this was on it so... a lot of the TUYU songs and MVs are interconnected! Some specifically cover jirai kei and ryousangata otaku topics! My favorite songs and MVs are the ones involving my favorite characters, Anhiro and Anzu, who are heavily featured in the Under Mentality album.

10. School-Live!

MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD!!!!!! I RECOMMEND GOING IN BLIND FOR THIS ANIME SPECIFICALLY!!

TW: unreality, major character death, parental death, self-harm, animal death, graphic depictions of delusions and hallucinations

I loved the anime, so I picked up the manga recently. I'm only a little ways in, but I want to complete it since the anime didn't cover it all! You don't even know the plot until the final seconds of the first episode, where it's revealed that Yuki is the only member of the squad who doesn't realize what's going on- she's not in school for class, she's living there for shelter in a zombie apocalypse. Oh, and she sees dead people. She has moments of clarity, and the story often follows other characters' memories and POVs, so you still get to have a clear look into what happened and what's going on for real.

That was my list of my current top ten media recommendations for jirai kei! Please lmk if you decide to give any of these a try! Remember that I also regularly post music recs under #music too! Bye-bye!!

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jamespotterismydaddy · 1 year

Text

Sweet Treat

daemon x stepdaughter!reader prequel (other part)

A/N: this can be read before or after the other part

TW: smut, fingering, oral (f receiving), spanking, kinda brat taming

word count: 1,108 words

You do have limits to how much you tease your stepfather… usually, but recently you haven’t been getting nearly enough attention. You walk around the house with no bra under your crop tops and no shorts under your skirts but he hardly spares you a glance. Maybe that's why you walk down the stairs that night in a nightgown that would definitely be classified as lingerie. The material is sheer everywhere except your most private areas and you’ve paired it with cute fuzzy white socks. You walk into the kitchen and see him sitting in his armchair in the living room with a glass of red wine in his left hand and some book about Old Valyria in his right. He doesn’t even look up as you strut by. You huff a little.

“Do we have any ice cream?” That gets him to look at you. You get no visible reaction to how you’re dressed except the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Bit late for that isn’t it, darling?” His eyes give you a once over.

“Fine, don't tell me.” You roll your eyes at him.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me, little girl.” He’s reading his book again. You don’t know how he even saw the action.

You brush it off and walk over to the freezer. You could crouch to open it but you don’t, choosing to bend over instead. The silk of your nightgown rides up your thighs and over your ass. You can’t tell if he’s watching, but he is. You wish you could see the look of shock on his face when he realizes that you aren’t wearing any panties. He watches you closely as you rummage through the freezer, his eyes drinking up the sight of your most intimate area on perfect display. It would be so easy for him to just take you now but he keeps his restraint.

“Daddy, I can’t find the ice cream.”

Bullshit. He thinks to himself and also, since when do you call him daddy? He hates how it makes his pants tighten.

“It’s in there.” He knows he shouldn’t go over there.

“Help me find it.” You whine petulantly.

Fuck it. He thinks and saunters over to you. He stands behind you as you keep pretending to look. His finger trails up your bare thigh and gives your butt a light squeeze before placing his hands on your hips and pulling you into his crotch. He then bends over you and grabs the ice cream right out of the freezer.

“In plain sight, princess.”

“Oops. I guess I missed it.” You begin to stand as he places the tub on the counter but his large hand on your upper back stops you. “What-” He cuts you off.

“You know this nightgown is very skimpy for such a young girl.” He plays with the silk as he holds you firmly in place.

“I’m an adult.” You blush intensely at him feeling you up.

“Hardly.” He folds the hem up so he can see more. “I’ve seen more threads on a spider’s web. And no panties? You’ve been quite the naughty little thing.” He pulls your legs apart so he can get a better view of your bare cunt. His fingers run up and down, caressing your inner thigh. “Is this all for daddy’s attention?”

“Why would I want your attention? You’re old.” You manage to spit out at him.

“Oh how you wound me.” He says condescendingly. “If i’m so old then I definitely have experience with little brats who like to show off.”

“I’m not a brat.” You protest and he chuckles.

“But you are. You’re a naughty, attention-seeking brat who likes flashing her bare cunt to her stepfather.” He pushes down on your back a little harder, forcing you to bend over more. “I know just what a spoiled girl like you needs.”

“W-What?” You can’t decide if you’re more nervous or aroused.

“A nice little spanking from her daddy.” He doesn’t give you a chance to protest before you feel the first smack.

“Ah!” You gasp and the second smack is harder. “Daddy, it hurts!” You cry out as he continues to swat your ass. Your skin begins to redden under his palm.

“Stop whining. You deserve this.” You get another two harsh swats before he begins to rub your punished flesh. “My naughty girl.” His fingers tease around before they slide between your folds. “Oh you liked it when I spanked you. I’ve never felt a pussy this wet.” He teases and you whimper. “You want a little reward, baby?”

“Y-Yes… please.” You breathe out and he slips a finger in, curling it to hit the spot. Your hands grip the handle of the freezer for support as he pumps his fingers in and out of you.

“Stand up straight and turn around. I want a taste.” You’re quick to obey him as he kneels in front of you. “Hold your nighty up, princess.” You grab the hem and hold it up around your waist. He grips your thighs with his big hands and spreads your legs open, before pressing a gentle, teasing kiss to your inner thigh. You can’t explain how good you feel as he licks a strip up your folds. It feels even better when he groans at the taste of you. He eats you like it’s his last meal, like your arousal tastes better than ambrosia and nectar combined. Your hand reaches down to grip his hair. He looks like a god on his knees for his goddess.

“Daemon.” You moan his name, whispering it again and again like a mantra. He wants to be annoyed that you didn’t call him daddy but his name sounds so perfect when it falls from your sweet, soft lips. You squeal lightly as he nips at your clit, your hold on his hair tightening and you can swear that you feel him smirk against you. He brings his fingers up to help him, using them to tease your rough spot inside while his tongue works at your clit. He feels you tighten around him as you reach your peak, squirming as you whimper his name once more. He uses his fingers to fuck you through your high before pulling them out and licking them clean.

“My good girl.” He praises as he rises to his feet. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. He desperately wants to fuck you right now but his sweet little girl looks so dazed. He’ll leave that for tomorrow.

taglist (comment to be added): @valeskafics @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies

#daemon targaryen #daemon x reader #daemon smut #daemon targaryen smut #stepdad!daemon #hotd #hotd smut #daemon targeryen x reader

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cod-z · 7 months

Text

Why do you HATE the rain, L.T?

You chose to read this, do NOT blame me if you ignore my warnings! TW: Angst, No Comfort, Death, Betrayal, Abuse, Trauma, Hint/Mention of SA on a Minor

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader

| One-shots | Pt. 2 |

A/N: Realised that I really love writing angst but hate reading it lmao

Simon, or Ghost known out in the field, knew you since you were a child, yes, both you and the reaper of death were childhood best friends, never leaving each other’s side, taking on the world even with Simon’s questionable family problems that he always covered from you.

Always protecting the things he deemed weren’t good for your mind and soul, not wanting you grow up as fast as he did, he was older in his mind and his body is taking its time to catch up.

You and Simon were inseparable that was a fact, however between you two the dynamic was rather odd.

You were the troublemaker of the duo, always jumping into danger, never considering your safety, always taking the hits whenever Simon gets bullied at school or when his father gets so drunk he doesn’t recognise you when you came to get Simon’s sleepover gear, later on hiding the bruises and scars with make-up.

However, Simon didn’t know that he wasn’t the only one with family issues.

Your parents put up a facade whenever Simon came over for a sleepover with or without his sibling, having that sweet and parental attitude around them, taking care of them as if they were their children instead of you. And once Simon leaves, your parents would relish the anger and resentment onto you, baring you with multiple, questionable damages onto your body.

Your mother made sure you could no longer fathom a word with her ‘motherly love’, as she called it, unleashing her wrath onto you while your father’s form of ‘love’ lead you to being deflowered at a young age, him being the reason why you limped walking to school and why you didn’t shine bright as you did before - always feeling like filth.

Although your attitude always changes around Simon, always giving him a smile whenever he was near you, staying strong for him as he does for you.

“That doesn’t scare you, does it?” Simon gives you a wary smile while he watches you balance on the railing of the bridge, your dress being blown gently by the wind as you stick your arms out, giggling while giving him a reassuring smile.

“What’s there to be afraid of?”

“You could fall.”

“Yeah but I’m not,” you chuckle still walking on the railing like a tightrope, Simon still being paranoid as he watches you, eventually you reach the end of the bridge. You start to laugh at Simon’s protectiveness which earned you a playful glare which causes you to laugh harder, in turn, Simon starts to laugh as well. Just two kids against the world.

That was then, this is now.

You were just a Sergeant amongst the Task Force 141, they already had two Sergeants, both, capable of completing missions as a duo or a soloist, so can you but Sim- Ghost doesn’t seem to think so.

Over the years when you both grew up, Simon wasn’t as degrading as he was now, you remember the times where he’d pick you up when you fell down.

When you were back in secondary school, you and Simon had been a main target of bullying due to rumours of you homes and family, they weren’t wrong but you both weren’t going to give them the satisfaction of letting them get under your skin nor would you allow them to shit talk about Simon and vice versa.

You both cared deeply for one another, always watching each other’s back, both in and out of school grounds, knowing bullies won’t be reprimanded once they leave school gates, sure, you could tell the teacher but you both didn’t trust any adults.

However during a chase where both of you were out numbered, Simon had accidentally caught himself on the fence when he tried to crawl underneath it, it was hooked onto his right ankle, only hooking onto the sock but you were sure he had scratches underneath, the metal wire broken the material.

He looked towards you when you grabbed his sleeves and tug on it, trying to set him free but the gang were catching up and Simon didn’t want you hurt because of the fight he had started.

“Please, let me go!”

Your panicked eyes dart to him, looking at him as if he was crazy, you shake your head defying his orders while still trying to tug him free.

“It’s you and me, Si. Us against the worl—” you were cut off when you heard fabric being ripped apart and Simon was now on top of your legs, his head rested on your laps and the sounds of rushed footsteps nears the alleyway that you had escaped.

The gang leader punches the metal wire while glaring at the two of you, cursing words at you both for hitting his mate with a branch. You both looked at each other before dashing off, the distance of cursing fading and your laughs replacing the sound.

You remember it so clearly and yet you think to yourself, was any of it real?

You stood in front of Ghost, his figure looming over yours, you eyes meeting one another as both of you know that their former, young friend no longer embodies their adult skeleton, both are grown and both are different.

The years that gapped between them were long many things had changed, Ghost lost his family while you had killed yours, you knew what happened to Ghost but he didn’t know what happened to you, you were both strangers, co-workers.

Forced, co-workers.

You had been a slave to Phillip Graves and General Shepherd, you had worked for the Shadow Company, being spared by the remorseful side of Ghost that had died or who you formally known as Simon Riley - your childhood best friend, the best friend that died along with his family, the friend that disappeared, the friend that left you to fend for your own. The man that stood in front of you, today.

You glared at him and he glared at you.

“I should’ve killed you when I had the chance,” his deep, gruff voice ring into your ear.

You don’t flinch while you both have a stand off, neither one of you backing down even with the harsh words being thrown back and forth in silence, his arms folding against his chest.

He hadn’t known why he spared you, he had his knife against your throat as you were left for dead by the Shadow Company, but he kept you alive. He doesn’t understand why he did so, you weren’t Ghost’s friend, you were Simon Riley’s best friend, the part of Ghost that died and the being of his reborn self.

However he was surprised that you hadn’t reacted out towards him from abandoning you, leaving you and not contacting you after everything he had been through, not that he couldn’t, he felt it would be best if he had left your life as he was back then. Saving you from the man he has become and known of as today, but you weren’t no different, you had changed too and not only as his enemy but as the young girl he used to love deeply.

You no longer had your enchanting smile, you no longer had the glimmer in your eyes, you no longer give that hypnotic laugh when others made jokes even with the ones he would mumble out, ones you used to laugh at.

“If you know what’s good for you ‘darlin’,” you mock his accent and the little nickname that he gave you when you first reunited while waving your hand behind you, brushing off the intense gaze he had on you. “you’ll leave me alone.”

You spat at him before brushing past him, purposely bumping his broad arms due to your height, of course it didn’t phase him but you were to petty and prideful to turn away and scowl at him more. Ghost on the other hand stared at your retreating form, his gaze solemn and softer - he missed you but you weren’t you.

“I wish you would’ve told me,” he mumbles underneath his breath, unfolding his arms as he rests them at his side.

“You don’t know what you’re asking me to admit,” the echoes of your hollow words hitting him hard.

He knows what you did to your parents, he now knows the same abuse you faced when you were kids and it pained him that he never figured it out, oblivious to all the signs. Regret that he couldn’t comfort you.

“You can’t save me and just leave me to bleed, Simon,” younger you chuckle as you play dead on the ground in your parent’s backyard with a makeshift castle out of cardboard, Simon dressed up as a knight in shining armour, defeating the dragon but it had left you falling to your doom.

Simon giggles at your silliness as you play dead, he began to tickle you until you’re both chasing one another, laughing and screaming as you take turns tickling one another. Collapsing after tiring yourselves out onto the grass while you both stared up into the sky, your hands intertwined together platonically.

“We’ll always be together, right?” you smile towards Simon while he gives you a small smile back, one of his front tooth being gone.

“Always!” he chuckles.

The innocence you both shared nothing but a faded memory as you stare up at the sky, no longer the pretty blue that you remembered all those years ago, Simon was still at your side. His body laid next to yours as you both get covered in your blood, his hand holding onto yours, his mask off his head as you both lay there on the ground.

You had been shot, a vital organ being pierced through with the bullet and there was no way to save you from your demise.

You weren’t scared, you were never scared whenever you’re with Simon Riley and that’s who Ghost was now, he was your Simon Riley and you were you, no longer hiding behind a call sign. Both of you enjoying your last moments together, him dying all over again as Simon Riley and you dying as yourself all these years ago. Finally able to join your parents in the fire down below.

“You know, I thought it was never gonna end with us together,” you glances towards him, his eyes glancing towards yours, he doesn’t respond but thinks about the situation. You chuckle weakly at his lack of response, classic Simon, which makes you cough up blood.

Seeing you in this state he lightly chuckle himself as he thinks about it as Simon, no longer Ghost as he watches his childhood friend and interest, die next to him. Another painful memory to add for his nightmares and night terrors, knowing he’ll remember your face as you fade away from him, him regretting that he didn’t seek you out, protecting you from the world like all he did when he was younger. His heart was weeping and aching while he tightly held your hand, feeling the beat of your heart diminishing and your skin slowly going cold by the second.

“Maybe it could’ve, if I wasn’t such a coward,” he covers his eyes with his arm as he hides the tears that threatened to fall, maybe things would’ve been different if he had just…

“I don’t regret meeting you,” your voice hoarse while you look back up at the sky, a small smile plastered on your lips, Simon removing his arm as he looks at your features, imbedding it into his head before he loses you. “I never did.”

His heart swelled, his eyes softening, his other hand slowly placing itself on your cheek and guides it to face him. Both of your eyes locked together, the countdown of final moments starting now, you could feel yourself slipping away, away from the cruel world that you were birthed into and away from the one person you ever dared to get close to and reunite again. Both of you knew this was the end of the troublemaker duo who both fought against the world, the world fighting back to take one of them down.

“I’m still not afraid,” you whispered out, your chest slowly lifting up and down as you get weaker. “Not when I’m with you…”

Your eyelids slowly lower themselves as you give a final delicate smile, the rain slowly inviting itself into the pity party, starting out with small raindrops landing onto their bodies. Your hand’s grip slowly loosening around Simon’s but he held on tighter, though you no longer felt the tightness as your nerves fail to respond to the pain.

Simon holds his breath as he watches you take a few more slow breathes, his heart aching at the sight of you fighting for a little bit more time to be with him, to stay with him and yet he was a coward to even think of a response to say, he needed something to say. He brushes the hair that covered your beautiful face that he adored, ignoring the blood on your lips, he grazes his lips over yours, a delicate kiss for the Princess he couldn’t protect.

“I’ll see you again, even if we’re dead…”

The faint sound of your last breath cuts the air with silence, the rain pouring down onto both of you and other corpses, the blood being merged into the dirt and mud, his hands still holding onto yours, the warmth long gone. This was the true resting ground where Simon Riley had died, next to the person who he couldn’t have and never will.

Ghost stood up as he was reborn once more, this time colder, meaner and heartless.

The one he loved had his heart in their shared grave.

A/N: hehe used all the prompts as sentences, fun.

Host(s): @xxshadowbabexx

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calmcoldevening · 18 days

Note

Back at it again with a prompt idea!

What if the slasher/s are trying to kill a victim but they are immortal and keep coming back

And the victim keeps following the slasher only to annoy and be a little menace to them >:3

(maybe they fall in love later O.O)

What ever slasher you choose is fine for me ;)

Art the clown x immortal!reader

Tw: blood, murdering, torturing? well, yeah. Art is an ass sometimes

• Art has always been a fan of violent and noisy 'games' that chilled the blood in his veins. That was his sadistic nature, and the whole of Miles County and people for hundreds of miles around had already heard a lot about it. A strange man in a clown costume, who sent at least a dozen unhappy teenagers and adults to the next world. He loved blood and horror, and no one would dare stand in his way, not wanting to become another victim of brutal violence.

• Maybe it was fate's will, or maybe it was just your bad luck or an accident, but one day Art saw you in one of the cafes late at night. He was watching you from a dark alley, so it's unlikely that you would have seen him even if you really wanted to. He clutched his garbage bag in his hands, and a cruel grin appeared on his face. You were a good little thing and you definitely could have brightened up this cold night for him.

• Without thinking for long, Art hit you on the head at the most unexpected moment and took you to one of his 'game rooms', which in fact was just a room of one of the old factories in the city. He wasn't in the mood to hunt you down and catch you in your own house for a long time. This game was supposed to be fast but colorful.

• The clown involuntarily licked his lips, watching you slowly regain consciousness and open your big innocent eyes. He walks around you like some kind of fancy Christmas tree. You're sitting on an old wooden chair, badly scratched and already soaked in blood from past victims. Your limbs are tied in wooden material with strong leather straps, and thick barbed wire with rusty, blunt teeth is wrapped around your neck, chest and abdomen. There was a smell of dampness and fear in the air, which made the Clown giggle noiselessly.

• Finally, Art stopped right in front of you and gestured at the trash bag to your right. Making a playful, almost pretended sweet expression, or reached into the bag as if looking for a Christmas present for a small child. In the flickering light, a long thin tool with a convex handle and a bizarrely curved metal tip appears, more like a sharply sharpened blade. A man comes behind you and caresses your tense shoulders with almost uncharacteristic tenderness. His fingers are rough and rough. The clown's palms slowly descend lower, sliding along your clothed back through the open part of the back of the chair. The movements are slow and measured. Suddenly his movements stop and in the next moment they are replaced by acute pain. Sparks dance in your eyes and you emit a strangled cry, reflexively your body gives way forward, blunt spikes painfully dig into your tender flesh. Art laughs soundlessly, continuing to press the blade deeper into your spine, and then abruptly moves his hand down. With a nasty creak, the fabric of your T-shirt is torn, and at the same time your soft flesh is torn. Art rejoices, seeing how his hands and white gloves are stained with maroon lingonberry liquid, flowing in a thick stream onto the concrete floor. Tears are pouring from your eyes as you desperately bite your lower lip in an attempt to control yourself. Your back, which was once a flawless canvas of pale skin, is now covered with a network of terrible red lines, each of which testifies to the cruelty of Art's tools and his relentless thirst for suffering. There is a pungent smell of iron in the air, mixing with the acrid smell of fear that remains on your sweat-soaked skin.With deliberate slowness, I pick up the razor-sharp instrument again, its sinister curves gleaming in the dim light. Your body is trembling, every muscle is tense with fear, while the man is preparing to inflict even more torment on you.In the flickering shadows, a grotesque smile appears on his painted face, a silent promise of future torment.

• Suddenly, the blade hits the blood-soaked concrete with a ringing thud and bounces off somewhere to the dark wall. Art goes back to his "magic" bag and takes out some kind of leather strap. With a deft movement of his hands, he hooks the clips connected by a strap onto your wet cheeks, the gloves wet with blood rub unpleasantly against your face. Art smiles his creepy smile and gently touches your chin with his fingers. Your eyes were swollen and your cheeks were wet from tears and saliva flowing from your open mouth. But not that you can complain here. All you had to do was mumble something, barely moving your limp tongue.

• An unpleasant crunch filled the half-empty concrete room. With a strong crack, Art broke off a piece of your tooth with pliers, the fragment unpleasantly scratched the already bleeding gum. All you had to do was mumble something indistinctly, to which Art just grinned madly and jokingly grabbed your tongue with the edges of the pliers, watching the despair in your eyes. He broke off tooth after tooth until a dozen teeth had been pulled out in his hand.

• Your throat burned from screaming, and your eyes burned unpleasantly from the tears you shed. You wanted it to be over as soon as possible. Realizing that Art won't get the right reaction from you anymore, noticing your exhaustion, he snorts soundlessly, clearly losing interest. With a graceful movement of his hand, Art deftly takes out an old battered pistol from a trash bag. He slides the edges of the gun over your cheek, drawing uncomplicated patterns. His movements are slow and upward. One. Two. Three. Finally, his hand reaches your head, the muzzle of the gun is pressed against your painfully throbbing temple. You wearily close your eyes, feeling a leaden heaviness in your limbs. His arms and legs were already blue from lack of blood.

• Art blows on the smoke coming from the shower of the gun and throws the weapon back into the bag. The man steps back, admiring his work and your smoking wound on his temple for a couple of moments. After that, he carefully removes the straps from the dead body and puts them in a bag, slowly leaving the building.

• Art pinned a young man to the ground, slowly cutting the meat from his face and putting the skin in his mouth. A soft laugh was heard abruptly behind him, and another pair of hands, softer and softer palms, covered his hands. The man raises his eyebrows questioningly and turns back, meeting your satisfied gaze. Your face still looked tired and tear-stained, and there were bruises and streaks of blood on your neck, but overall you looked almost.. normal?

• Without thinking twice, you grab the scalpel from his hand and with a sharp movement stick the blade into the clown's eye. He screams soundlessly, raising his hands to his face. You step back, watching his agony with a satisfied expression on your face. "You didn't think it would end so easily, did you?" You purred, folding your arms over your chest. The clown frowns, baring his sharp black teeth, and jumps up from the lifeless body. He walks towards you with quick steps and grabs your throat with his cold hands, lifting you off the ground. No matter how thin he looks, the guy has plenty of strength. You giggle, covering his hands with yours. You can already feel the air leaving your lungs, being replaced by an unpleasant burning sensation. Without thinking twice, you reach out your hands, touching the clown's face with your fingers, and scratch his painted face, mixing the paint with the blood from his wounded eye. He presses harder, enjoying the crunch of your airways.

• It quickly turned into a constant game of cat and mouse. Wherever Art was, you were always there. And I was in his way. Art was angry, cursed, and killed you. But you were coming back. Each time, your body was still decorated with old scars, but the man added new ones. He realized that the old scars would disappear. He had to make new ones. It was as if he was celebrating his favorite, best victim in this way. He can't be uninterested in your natural stubbornness and immortality.

• Over time, the clown really begins to look forward to your recovery and return, despite the slight irritation that you cause in him. He feels it in the pleasant piercing of his fingers. His hands crave you, your body, his fingers want to touch your scars and leave new ones.

• Your constant presence in Art's life begins to gradually change his thinking and thoughts, your image has settled in his head like a damn poison.

• Your immortality and lack of fear make you a really worthy partner for Art, he realizes this on an unconscious level. There's something about you. Something that makes his blood boil in his head. He's falling in love with you. Yes, in his own way, but he falls in love. Despite your initial maniac-victim relationship, Art is starting to see you as almost an equal. This is surprising. He loves you in his own twisted way.

• Art and you are in a love-hate relationship, constantly joking and arguing with each other. Despite the constant quarrels, you are united by a deep connection and understanding, which becomes apparent in your communication. You both feel extremely comfortable in such a relationship in your own perverted way (this is especially damn noticeable in sex..)

• Art begins to crave your company and gets annoyed when you are not around. There's something nice about knowing that after a bloody murder, he can properly combine his anger and passion on you. Especially in your intimate moments. Playing with blood, strangulation and other elements of bdsm is an integral part of your pleasure. You are a perfect match for each other, you are feared by all the states in the district.

#slashers x reader #slashers x you #slashers fandom #slashers #slasher x reader #art the clown #art the clown x reader #art the clown x you

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bettyfrommars · 5 months

Text

I'm on Fire: The Epilogue

biker!Eddie x artist!Reader

biker!Steve x Astrid (fem!OC)

masterlist playlist

wc: 14.6k

18+ONLY as always, adult themes, allusions to smut, backyard union/wedding, violence, auto theft, hustling, fist fight, mention of blood, mention of guns and shooting, relationship issues, Eddie is a cat dad, tw: Charlene, alcohol consumption, healing, lots of love.

Summary: If you're one of my ride or dies who have read this far, you know what to expect, but I do mention pregnancy and kids more than a few times, for good reason. We get to check in with what the gang has been up to, and how the families have grown. A little bit of drama, of course, and Coffin Kings mayhem. For the sake of this story, the character Bones is meant to be Tom Hardy from the yet to be released movie The Bikeriders.

A/N: This is reallyyy more of another chapter more and an Epilogue, lmaoo. I love all of these characters so much that I keep wanting to spin off in different directions and write a bunch of niche stories; I can see myself living in this world for a long while. I know I say it all the time, but my IoF readers mean so much to me, and I really hope you enjoy this. Please see a second author's note at the end.

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Highway 22 had once been the only main road out of town, but since the freeway came to Hawkins in the 60’s, very few ever took the country road lined with cornfields and alfalfa crops. There were several homesteads scattered about, mostly farmers, and all of them spaced out by several acres; but for the home of the Whittiers—Bob and Helen—who just happened to live across the street from the place once owned by the Fergusons.

The first time they heard the rumble of motorcycles approaching, Helen screamed through the living room that it must be an airplane flying too low, about to crash into them. She nudged Bob awake from his nap in the recliner and then ran out onto the porch, wringing her hands.

What she found was a motorcycle gang, clad in leather and covered in tattoos, crawling twenty deep into the driveway of their newest neighbors.

It was rare for Eddie to invite the entire local Coffin Kings MC and a few of the Hells Belles over, but the ceremony for Steve and Astrid’s union was an exception. She was 8 months pregnant with the twins at the time, bursting at the seams, but Steve had this bug up his ass that he needed them to be official before the babies came, and Bones was happy to officiate.

Under an arbor in the neatly manicured lawn of your front yard, flanked in willow trees and cherry blossoms, Robin stood as Steve’s best man, and pretended like she’d lost the ring during the ceremony when he asked for it. The panic in his face made everyone in attendance snicker when she pulled it from the tiny pocket of her vest with a wink. Steve wore black suit pants with a collared white shirt, rolled up to the elbows, under his Coffin Kings leather. Astrid looked stunning in a hunter green, off-the-shoulder dress with a few pieces of simple, gold jewelry, and a baby’s breath flower crown in her hair.

Astrid didn’t need a ring, or any traditional symbols, and the material stuff meant nothing to her, but Steve insisted. He took the extra step of getting her name tattooed on his ring finger, which made her roll her eyes and fall more in love with him all at once.

You stood at Astrid’s side, making eyes at your boyfriend Eddie who was extremely handsome in his leather and a suit in the front row. You were still reeling at the idea that this was your life, as fear kept trying to creep in and tell you it was all a dream, or that something would happen at any second to take it all away at any moment.

You’d barely had the keys to the farmhouse for two months before the wedding, and so things were still stacked in boxes on the main floor, and the plumbing was a mess, but every morning, Eddie kissed you goodbye before work, and then you padded over in bare feet to the empty space with south facing windows that would soon be your studio.

Wayne gave Astrid away, and there were tears streaming down Steve’s cheeks. Once the official “I do’s” were said, everyone, including the bikers and their families in attendance, started to hoot and whistle for the kiss. Steve held her face in his hands, and it was deep and sweet and made the obnoxious howling from the crowd melt into a collective swoon before erupting in applause.

Eddie’s heart swelled with love, not only for his friends who were finally getting the happy ending they deserved, but for you, and the promise of the life you were building together. Neither one of you held the matrimonial traditions of society in high regard and didn’t need a piece of paper to prove that you were devoted to each other, but right then, watching you stand with Astrid, he thought about dropping to one knee and begging you to be his wife.

Neither one of you had a family history of marriage keeping people together, in fact, it had mostly only succeeded in fucking everything up. In his heart, it was till death do you part, and that was all that mattered. In fact, he planned on finding you in the afterlife as well.

Steve had Oliver on his shoulders while they cut the cake, but what everyone didn’t know was that Astrid was fighting some stomach cramping. She figured it was the two babies kicking from all of the excitement, but the second the music started for the reception, her water broke.

“This can’t be happening right now,” Steve was flabbergasted, holding up his wife so that she didn’t sink to the ground. “They’re not due for another month?”

“Oh it’s happening,” Astrid gushed, framing her belly with her hands. “They are coming.”

“Take my car,” Katie offered, digging around in her purse for her keys. The driveway was full of vehicles, pinning in Astrid’s truck, but Katie’s car was further out, near the highway.

“We’ll be right behind you,” Eddie shouted, reaching for your hand.

Dustin was the voice of reason, stepping in front of him while the others headed for the vehicle.

“She could be in labor for hours, and you’ve got guests,” Henderson reminded his friend. He was there with his wife Suzie and their daughter Stevie. “I say stay here, man. Robin can call you from the hospital with an update.”

For a second, it had slipped both of your minds that you even had guests; approximately 87 of them.

The big speakers Eddie had hooked up to a sound system were playing Hold onto Me by Cowboy Junkies, and the two of you turned to stare at each other, wondering what to do.

“Dustin’s right,” you looked around, eyes settling on your ex-coworker Jeff who was drinking red wine straight from the bottle. “I don’t want anyone to puke in our bedroom or something.”

Suzie handed you a glass of champagne, ring finger heavy with a Princess cut diamond. “I promise you, those babies probably won’t poke their heads out until morning.”

You just hoped nothing went wrong, since Astrid confided in you that labor had been notoriously hard on the women in her family; there had even been a few mothers who didn’t make it. What if they needed to do an emergency C-section? What if one of them started to come out sideways?

You were about to take a sip of the sweet bubbles when you saw Steve jogging back in your direction.

“Katie’s car is dead,” he huffed, headed for the back patio where his Harley was parked.

Craning your neck down the long row of cars, you saw Astrid sitting on the front bumper of the dark blue sedan with Oliver holding onto her arm while Robin and Katie appeared to be having an argument. You were sure it was nothing personal, but tensions were high.

“Hold tight, let me grab the jumper cables,” Eddie jogged alongside Steve, aiming for the garage.

“Nah, it’ll take too long, we need to get out of here,” Steve was throwing a leg over his bike and revving the engine before Eddie could offer another suggestion.

You ran up beside Eddie. “He’s driving her to the hospital on that?”

“It appears that way,” Eddie stepped back so that Steve could roll by the two of you, fishtailing through the lawn before jumping a rock bed and weaving between the vehicles to pick up Astrid.

A lot of pregnant women might have hesitated to go by motorcycle, but Astrid did not. She didn’t hesitate to get on behind him, knowing that the sooner they got to the hospital, the less likely things would go wrong. Making room for her ample stomach took a moment of adjusting, but she strapped her helmet on before tapping his shoulder to let him know she was ready.

“You’re insane!” Robin shouted at him, and then she covered her face in frustration.

Bones, Devlin, Van, Ratchet, and a few others went along as escorts, clearing the highway with their own bikes so that Steve could have the road.

Across the street, Helen was on her porch with a pair of binoculars. “Bob? Where are they taking that pregnant woman?”

Bob was in the living room with the TV on, and he pretended not to hear her.

“The music is loud enough,” she scoffed. “The whole thing better quiet down by 10 or I’m calling the police.”

If so, that wouldn’t be the first time she’d called the cops about her across-the-way neighbors. The first time was during the week they’d moved in, and a couple of the Kings came over to help unload furniture. Helen reported that there was a gang breaking into the Ferguson place to steal things.

“Let me get this straight,” Hopper twirled a pencil between two fingers while he spoke into the phone. “They’re stealing things by putting them back inside the house?”

He very politely talked her down from a ledge, and then drove by on the highway to give her a wave so that she felt safe.

The Velvet Hammer was closed the day of the wedding, as most of the employees were guests. But the next day, Shana opened up the bar at 10, harboring one of the worst hangovers of her adult life.

The shrill ringing of the phone made it feel like a buzzsaw was cutting through her skull, and Jackie leaned over the bar counter to snatch the receiver.

It was you, letting them know that Astrid had given birth to two healthy baby girls named Gracie and Rue early that morning, and that labor had been horrific, but their mother was on the mend.

Poor Steve. When the doctor came out and said there were “complications”, he nearly tore down the wall trying to get in there to his wife. The first baby, Rue, started to come out feet first, and he had this terrifying thought of the umbilical cord getting stuck around her neck or something, but once they got her turned around, the rest went smoothly. He did the best he could to coach her through the breathing techniques they’d learned in the Lamaze classes, but at one point, she politely, yet abruptly, asked him to shut up.

Not even three months later, Astrid was pregnant again.

They were certain that the procreation of the twins had been a fluke, a miracle; something that would only happen once in their lifetime.

But they’d been gravely mistaken.

They’d just transported the whole family to the ranch style home Astrid had inherited from her grandmother. Everyone had their own room, including another living area in the basement, and a vintage Landshark Airstream trailer in the back yard where Steve and Astrid slept when they needed alone time. It was the communal living, and the constant support from Robin and Katie, that kept them from mental collapse when they found out there was another baby on the way.

“What is wrong with you?” Eddie chuckled at Steve when he gave the two of you the news one morning over coffee at your kitchen table. “Couldn’t keep it in your pants for a few weeks?”

“I told you,” Steve shrugged. “I have a magic dick.”

At that, you and Eddie shared an affectionate eye roll. All joking aside, Steve was ecstatic about the news, bouncing on the balls of his feet everywhere he went at the idea of having a fourth child. Astrid, on the other hand, was trying not to have a panic attack as she breastfed two infants at once. If it happened to be another set of twins, she said she’d have to give one to you and Eddie.

You were testing paint swatches on the wall when Eddie snuck up from behind on the hardwood floor and put his arms around you, nuzzling his face into your hair. He had on a pair of his “holiest” jeans that were so ripped and worn, they were about to be shorts, along with his Slayer shirt that now had wide, cut out arm holes, exposing his ribs.

“Which one do you like more?” You asked, slipping your arms over his.

He hummed, kissing your earlobe. “They all look yellow to me.”

“Close, but one is Summer Sunset, one is Lemon Cream, and one is—-”

“What about black?” He asked in all seriousness. “Or gray?”

“Or we could just keep all of the wallpaper as it is,” you giggled at the tickle of his beard scruff on your neck.

The country rose wallpaper was lovely, but heavy pink floral themes in every room was a bit much for both of you. “You’re right, I love Lemon Yogurt or whatever.”

“I figured as much,” You turned to search his face. He’d been growing his bangs out, so they were just long enough to tuck behind his ears. “How does tofu curry sound for tonight?”

Your lips met, and you could taste that familiar mix of wintermint and Camel Lights that you’d come to love. He’d cut back to only a couple smokes a day, but he went through a pack of gum in an hour.

“Mhhmm tofu,” he closed his eyes dreamily. “Is there meat in that?”

Just before the twins turned one, you and Eddie had your first big fight.

Big enough that you threw some clothes in a bag and said you were going to stay with Katie and Robin right before you slammed the door so hard, a vase full of daisies he’d bought for you crashed to the ground and shattered.

It was over something so stupid, really. The way he left hair in the sink after he shaved bugged the shit out of you, and when you rolled as far away as you could from him in bed, he took it personally. You’d felt restless and out of your mind that week, and then you started your car to realize the gas tank was empty, even though he said he’d fill it up. You promised Eddie you’d have some quality time with him one night, but then Steve needed you at the Hammer and…all of these things started to pile up until the dam burst.

You sat in your car with the engine on for a while, swallowing back hot gasps, unable to pull the trigger and drive away. It wasn’t long before you felt his shadow, and a few soft knuckle taps on the window.

“Please don’t go,” he said.

“I don’t want to go,” you shivered and finally broke out in a sob, tears streaming down your face. “I love you so much.”

Next thing you knew, you were in his arms, and then you were back in the bed you shared, begging him to be so deep inside, until it made you see stars.

—-----

“An inch to the left,” Robin coached you from the ground as you were up on a ladder at the Velvet Hammer, hanging a piece of artwork along the brick red wall opposite the bar while Mother Love Bone played from the jukebox. “Ah, right there. Perfect.”

You’d brought a few paintings over weeks earlier, at Robin’s request, and they all sold almost immediately, so she begged you to bring in a few more. Still an employee at the Hammer, Steve offered you something more of an assistant manager position, but you were honest with him and confessed you didn’t want the extra responsibility, but that you’d help as much as you could. Plus, the tips you earned waitressing mostly surpassed what they could offer you as an assistant, and you were under the gun to get a collection of work together for the upcoming show in Marysville.

The same Marysville shows at the airplane hangar where you’d bumped into Eddie and Charlene that one night three years ago. The memory felt surreal to you, as if it were something that had happened in another lifetime.

The bar didn’t open for another hour, and Steve was hunched over a cup of coffee, popping energy pills he’d bought at the gas station.

“Get any sleep last night?” You asked, on your way to return the ladder to the storage room.

Steve grumbled something unintelligible, and his head bounced, nodding himself awake as if he’d been drifting off right where he sat.

“Mae has some serious pipes on her,” Robin quipped, speaking of Steve and Astrid’s newest baby girl, Mae, who was barely 16 weeks old. “The only one of us she seems to want to be around is Oliver.”

The twins were over 2 years old by then, and just as much of a handful as you’d imagine toddlers would be. Now with another baby, the family was running on empty. You and Eddie volunteered to babysit Rue and Gracie for a weekend after Mae was born, and even though you loved the girls dearly and cherished the time with them, you found yourselves counting down the minutes until their dad came to pick them up on the last day. “I’m glad we decided not to have kids. Steve’s brood is more than enough,” Eddie whispered to you at the window watching Steve drive off. He even considered getting “snipped” around the time Steve had the procedure, just as a precautionary measure.

“Why are you here so early anyway?” Robin asked around a yawn, adjusting the clasp on her denim overalls. “Go home and get some rest. I’ll stay until Shana gets here at noon.”

Steve yawned too, stretching his arms above his head as he stood. He wore a nice pair of blue denim jeans and a sage green pearl snap shirt that was buttoned wrong. “Can’t. Interviewing for a new apprentice over at the shop.”

Construction on the tattoo parlor next door took longer than anticipated. So long, that Eddie got frustrated enough to go ahead and do a bunch of the work himself. They’d just passed inspection the week before and were anxious to get some bodies in there working. They’d decided on the name Velvet Ink, and Wayne found some vintage barber chairs at auction for the reception area aesthetic Steve was looking for.

As of then, Wayne was fully in remission and getting his strength back. He’d even been well enough to take his 1948 Harley-Davidson Panhead out on a few Sunday cruises with the boys. Rue, one of the twins, took to him like glue, and Eddie remarked that he’d never seen the old man smile as big as he did when she called him “gan-pa”.

Taking the last big gulp of his coffee, Steve made his way out, letting in blinding beams of sunlight when he pushed open the front door of the Hammer. He paused for a moment to look at the padded leather stool that was there, the one he’d parked his butt on for many a night. Even though he helped to keep the peace if necessary, most of the past two years had been spent behind the scenes. A weird, secret part of him missed it; missed the simplicity of being a bouncer, versus being the owner of two businesses. Before he knew it, reminiscing on his old life brought his thoughts back to Charlene.

He was sure that she kept tabs on him, and he hoped she never decided to drop in and wreak havoc on his life again, but he was grateful for the fresh start she’d given him. He hoped that she was enjoying herself with Billy…or whoever the hell she was fucking those days.

—-----

It was Eddie’s night to make dinner, and you spotted him fussing in the kitchen through the side window of the farmhouse when you drove up that night. It looked like he touched something that was too hot and was snapping his hand in the air to cool it off.

You saw his motorcycle parked in the red barn, and wondered if he was planning to do some repairs on it. The Chevelle was no longer around, as he’d sold it to a collector up north so he could get a pickup that would be more useful to your new lives. You’d begged him not to, as you knew how hard he’d worked on it over the years with Wayne, but he couldn’t be swayed otherwise. .

Turns out, your man was extremely stubborn.

“Hey there, Dungeon Master,” you greeted him, shutting the back door to take your coat off. He’d been teaching you to play DnD now that he had a new head mechanic at the shop, giving him a bit more time to lean into his hobbies. Max and Lucas moved back to town, and Eddie was happy to teach Lucas how to operate the tow truck when he voiced that he needed a job.

In a black Hanes tank and jeans, your man was barefoot with his hair tied back. Looking down at the pot of sauce he was stirring, he smiled so big his dimples popped. “You really like calling me that, don’t you?”

Calling him Dungeon Master was a new kink unlocked for you.

You set your bag on one of the kitchen chairs and wrapped your arms around him from behind to sink your teeth into his shoulder. “I love finding out what a nerd you truly are. It’s hot.”

He lifted up a wooden spoon full of marinara, cupping his other hand underneath, and turned to blow on it before putting it to your lips.

“Smells yummy,” you said before taking a taste. He watched your mouth, but then eagerly found your eyes for the verdict.

“Mhmm baby it’s delicious.”

Satisfied, he went back to stirring. “Astrid gave me her recipe. I’ve never made it from scratch before,” he took a lick off the spoon for himself. “I think I used too much garlic.”

Another facet of Edward Munson you’d never realized before was that he was a natural in the kitchen, and found a lot of joy in cooking. One of the first things he made when you first moved in was chickpea patties for burgers, and whenever the two of you went into a bookstore and you found him browning the vegetarian cookbook section.

If you weren’t working at the Hammer, nights at home were very low key. There was the occasional concert or dinner on the town, but mostly nothing sounded better than curling up on the couch with him, or on the porch swing with a cocktail. Charlie was strictly an inside cat, but you found a stray living in the barn. All black with green eyes, a recent visit to the vet let you know that she was pregnant, and a litter of kittens was on the way, one of which had already been claimed by Oliver. So, you brought her inside and made her comfortable in the guest bedroom, until just yesterday when you found her curled up for a nap in Eddie’s lap.

He named her Scully because of his love of The X-Files, and you wondered if he’d be able to give the rest of the kittens up for adoption with the way he fawned over his new companion. He bought her a fancy collar with a bell, as well as catnip and special treats that she was forced to share with Charlie.

Later that night, sprawled on the couch with your head on his chest, you were having a hard time keeping your eyes open during an episode of Saturday Night Live when the phone in the kitchen rang. You almost jumped out of your skin, and both of the cats sprang from their perch on top of the couch.

“What the shit,” Eddie grumbled, gently sliding out from underneath you just as a second ring shattered the once peaceful evening.

“Who would be calling this late?” You said groggily, pulling the blanket up to your chin to turn and watch Eddie disappear down the hall.

“I don’t know, but this better not be Steve wanting to rant about one of his late night epiphanies.”

Phone calls at midnight were rarely ever a good thing. You sat straight, waiting to hear Eddie pick up the receiver. Had someone been hurt? Were the girls okay? Had something gone wrong at the Velvet Hammer? Maybe it was Bones needing Eddie for something to do with the Kings, and if so, you didn’t want him to answer it.

Eddie jerked the white, cordless phone to his ear, frowning. “Yeah? This is Eddie.”

You shifted to the edge of your seat, muting the TV so that you could hear him.

“How did you get this number?” He mumbled gruffly.

That made you get to your feet.

“...what makes you think I had anything to do with it?”

You took a few steps and froze.

You had a very bad feeling that you knew exactly who it was at the other end.

Eddie locked eyes with you when you came to pause at the stove.

“You have to be mistaken, there’s no way he was one of ours—-,” Eddie said to whoever it was, shaking his head.

You reached out and motioned for him to hand you the phone.

He swallowed, hesitating at first, but then you took it from him and put it to your ear.

“Charlene?” Your tone was patient. “What’s going on?”

—----

Earlier that evening at the Harrington residence, Astrid was breastfeeding Mae in the rocking chair while Katie helped the twins get dressed after their bath, and Robin washed dishes with Oliver. The TV was on, but no one was paying any attention to it, and Mae nestled against her mother like she was finally ready for sleep.

God, Astrid was tired.

Exhausted to the marrow of her bones and beyond.

Absolutely in love with her daughters and in awe of the beautiful family they’d created, but wishing she could have a few hours away from it all, just the same.

The twins were being loud, giggling as their Auntie Katie ushered them across the hall to their bedroom, and Astrid held her breath, worried they’d wake the baby up.

She let Robin know she was putting Mae in her crib, and then went to take the first shower she’d had in a while, feeling her stretch marks and all the ways her body had changed after carrying three babies. She never doubted Steve’s attraction to her, but he tattooed gorgeous women every day, not to mention the ones who waited tables in fishnet stockings and danced at the Hammer. She was sure a handful of those young beauties had a crush on their boss and would offer him comfort any time he wanted it.

She hated when her mind went there, when she could feel the walls of insecurity and depression closing in. She wanted to be nothing but grateful for every waking moment, but sometimes she was way too tired to think clearly. She needed to cry or scream or fuck… or something.

Between the kids, Steve’s schedule, and having zero energy at night, she couldn’t remember the last time the two of them had been intimate. A few kisses and touches in passing was really all it had been. Considering the insatiable hunger they’d had for each other over the years, it made her worry that he just wasn’t attracted to her anymore. But also, she knew that was bullshit—-but the whispers kept nagging at her.

On her way back down the hall to her bedroom, she could hear Oliver reading the girls a bedtime story and she paused to listen, emotions catching in her throat. Rue and Gracie loved him so much, and he was such a wonderful big brother, slipping into the role like he was born for it. Born to be a nurturing, caring soul just like his father. She often wondered if Ollie would grow up to be who Steve would’ve been, if he had been surrounded with love as a kid. Before Wayne took over his care, he hadn’t known much comfort or safety.

Steve came home smelling like a distillery, and when he tried to kiss her on his way in, she moved her head away.

“Where have you been?” She didn’t have to ask, it was obvious he’d tattooed late and stayed to have a few drinks. She missed the guy who would spend hours rubbing her belly and talking to the babies inside of it. It was the closeness she missed, not the sex itself.

Alarms went off in Steve when he caught the way she didn’t want to look at him, the way she shrugged away from his touch. “Hey, baby, I’m sorry. Jake paid extra to have his back piece finished tonight and so I—”

Robin and Katie had adjourned to the basement, and Astrid was folding laundry at the couch. “You just thought you’d booze it up with your buddies while I took care of our girls?”

He lowered his arms to hook his thumbs into his belt loops. “I thought about calling but I didn’t want to wake the—”

“Your daughters are all asleep. Gracie was asking for her daddy,” she pinned a towel to her check with her chin and folded the ends together.

Steve’s heart tightened, thinking of how he’d missed his baby girl asking about him. Thinking of how he was already letting her down. “I’m gonna sneak in and say goodnight,” he mumbled, heading that way.

“Please don’t,” Astrid snapped. “It took a long time to get them to calm down, but you’re rarely here at night so you wouldn’t know.”

Okay, something was definitely wrong. He’d fucked up, but he wasn’t exactly sure how. Astrid knew that he’d have some long nights, this was something they’d talked about. There had to be something else going on.

He sat down on the edge of the recliner, facing her, and laced his fingers together. “Is there anything…you want to talk about?”

Astrid scoffed, keeping her eyes on the TV. “Where do I even start?”

“I’m sorry if I—”

“Just say it, Steve,” she bit, stacking folded towels on top of each other. “Just say you’d rather get drunk with the dancers at the Velvet Hammer rather than come home and be with me.”

At that, he was dumbfounded. Gobsmacked, even.

“How could you…what? That’s crazy. Shit, you know other women don’t even exist for me, Astrid,” he kept trying to catch her gaze, but she’d avoid it. “No one has ever meant more to me than you. You're the love of my life.”

“I can tell you’re not attracted to me anymore, Steve. Just say it, I don’t float your boat.”

“Float my boat?” He almost chuckled at that, but immediately caught himself, realizing that it wasn’t a good time for humor.

There were tears welling in her eyes and Astrid bit her cheek in an effort to keep them at bay; her shoulders were shaking.

“Hey, listen, baby, c’mere,” he stood and reached for her hand. She let him have it, dropping the t-shirt she’d been holding. “Tell me you love me? Please?”

“Have you fucked anyone else since we’ve been together?’ She stared at him that time, eyes wet.

Steve didn’t hesitate. “Never even crossed my mind.”

She swallowed thickly, lowering her gaze.

“Wait,” Steve’s mind raced, realizing that it had probably been months since they’d had sex. “Have you? Fucked another dude?”

That one pissed her off, and it showed in the look she shot him. “When the hell would I have time for that, Steve? I barely have time to pee.”

He let go of her hand. “Oh, so, you’ve wanted to, with other people…you just don’t have time?”

“Steve, I’m going to punch you in the throat.”

He pulled her over so that she was in his lap, and she only fought him a little because then she was crying into his neck, overcome with exhaustion.

“Tell me,” he said softly, brushing her hair away to kiss her forehead. “Tell me you love me.”

“You know I do,” she sniffed, letting the tears roll hot down her cheeks, pulling her knees up so that she was snug in his lap.

“Say it,” he was pushing it now, tipping her chin up to find her mouth with his.

She mumbled her devotion as the tip of his tongue dragged along her bottom lip.

She clung to him as she cried it out for a minute, letting him hold her close and stoke her hair.

“Is she okay?” It was Oliver.

He’d snuck in from the other room and was watching the scene with a creased, worried brow.

“I’m fine, honey,” Astrid sat up, wiping her eyes. “It’s just been a long day.”

Oliver stared at his dad, almost defiantly. “I don’t like to see her sad.”

Steve saw his own tender perception mirrored back to him in his son's eyes. “I don’t like it either, come over here,” he motioned for Ollie to get close enough so he could put his arm around his son. “Why aren’t you in bed?”

“I didn’t want to miss you again,” Oliver admitted, sending another pang into Steve’s heart.

He’d gone from working all the time to…working even more, and something had to change. He hated being away from his family so often that he missed bedtime several days a week; they needed to hire more full-time help like Robin suggested, but Steve and Eddie were trying to pinch every penny.

After he talked to Oliver about his day, Steve realized he needed a goddamn smoke. Since the twins were born, he’d tried several times to cut back, but decided to quit cold turkey two days ago, and it wasn’t working. He needed to get some of those nicotine patches or something because being irritable with a throbbing head was no way to live in tandem with everything else on his plate.

Two hours later, after he’d tucked Ollie in and everyone else in the house was asleep, Steve made love to his wife.

He was about to try for a second round when his beeper on the nightstand started buzzing.

The alert was from Eddie.

Steve frowned at the number and excused himself to use the phone while Astrid pulled her robe on to go and check on Mae.

Come to find out, the past was indeed back to haunt him, yet again.

—--------

Hawkins was the last place Charlene ever expected to be on her birthday weekend. She’d said goodbye to that place forever, or so she thought, as there was nothing for her there. Her relationship with Billy lasted the better part of a year, but when she found out he’d been cheating on her with their neighbor, it didn’t even phase her. Normally, she would’ve been furious and exacted some elaborate revenge on the two, but at the time, she only shrugged and told him good luck. She was never in love with him, he’d been just another way to pass the time; a way to distract from her deep, soul-sucking loneliness.

Just before the separation from John, she’d purchased a storage unit for sentimental items she didn’t want to look at, but also didn’t have the heart to throw away. She’d considered letting someone from Storage Wars buy it just so they could be disappointed, but there were private letters and photos in there that she never wanted anyone to see, especially not strangers. So, she was back to clean it out and burn whatever she no longer wanted to hold on to.

She was in disguise, so to speak, with a new cropped brunette hairdo, and oversized sunglasses. The divorce and the bankruptcy of one of John’s businesses made headlines in the paper for weeks, as there was clearly not much to talk about in Hawkins, and for the first time since marrying into money, she didn't want to be recognized.

She promised she wouldn’t punish herself by driving along the street in front of the Velvet Hammer, but she did it anyway. She picked up her white 1970 Jaguar XKE from the secure garage it’d been stored in, and parked across the street to watch you carry a huge painting in while Robin held the door for you. The neon sign for Velvet Ink was clever, and she sat there for over an hour, until Steve finally stepped out of the main building. He squinted up at the daylight, shaking his fist like he wanted to punch the sun, and went next door to shake hands with a woman who was tattooed neck to foot, before unlocking the door to the parlor.

She had plenty of phone numbers for young men who would love to get paid to be her escort, but she was tired of paying people. She wanted someone to want to be with her, and be protective of her, without the money or the status, and she was realizing she didn’t know how to act normal when it came to earning someone’s genuine affection.

So, that night, she was alone at a swanky rooftop bar drinking a dirty martini and listening to someone playing a Christopher Cross instrumental on the piano.

Eating the last olive, she was thinking she’d make her way to her hotel when she felt a body sink down for a seat just one stool over. She smelled him first; a familiar mix of leather and nicotine, but this one had superior taste in cologne as she recognized a hint of cedar and honeysuckle from Dior’s Fahrenheit.

He ordered a beer and a shot of Jameson and then, to her surprise, he leaned over and pointed at her empty glass. “Can I buy you another?”

Her first instinct was to flat out ignore him or say, “no, I can buy my own drinks, thanks,” but then she turned to see who the voice belonged to, and her tongue got stuck on the roof of your mouth.

Maybe ten years her junior, he wore his jet-black hair slicked back, while his full lips and hazel eyes reminded her of someone. She could tell he was tall with broad shoulders, and a couple tattoos exposed where his shirt was pushed up to the elbows. A few chunky metal rings similar to the ones Eddie always wore, and from the insignias on his leather vest, she could see that he was also a member of the Coffin Kings MC.

Charlene notoriously had a thing for outlaws, especially pretty ones, and so she let him buy her that second drink, and then a third.

He said his name was Nick, and she was relieved to find out he appeared to have no clue who she was. She said her name was Rita, and after that third drink, she invited him back to her room to continue the party there.

Inviting a stranger back to her suite was not how she’d expected the evening to go, but the need to feel the weight of him on top of her overrode any common sense that might’ve tried to dissuade her. He was sexy and he made her laugh, and those were the only qualifications she needed at that moment.

After a few hours of getting to know each other in the biblical sense, and enjoying the mini bar, Charlene excused herself to the bathroom.

“I think I need a shower,” she hummed, lifting an eyebrow. “You want to join me?”

He was stretched out on the bed naked with his hands behind his head watching an episode rerun of ER.

“You go ahead, babe,” he seemed to nestle further into the pillows after that term of endearment, shooting her a wink. His Coffin Kings leather was neatly folded over the back of the nearby chair. “I’m gonna make us a couple more drinks.”

She left the bathroom door open a crack, just in case he changed his mind, but then she got fully absorbed in how heavenly the steaming hot water felt. She thought she heard him come into the bathroom at one point, so she peeled the curtain back a few inches, but only found her reflection in the mirror.

By the time she turned the water off, the steam from the hot shower was as thick as soup, and she realized that at one point, he’d shut the door all the way for whatever reason. Perhaps for her modesty? Him being such a gentleman felt almost too good to be true.

“You could order some food from the late-night menu if you’re hungry,” she said from behind the closed door while brushing her hair out. “Pie sounds good for some reason.”

Either he wasn’t responding, or he did, and she just couldn’t hear him over the audience laughter on the TV. She rubbed in some expensive body butter and then checked herself in the mirror a few times while putting the fluffy, white hotel robe on.

“But if you need to go home I’d understand, as long as I can have one more—-”

She opened the door as she spoke, but then stopped dead in her tracks.

Nick was no longer sprawled on the bed, and all of his clothes were gone, even his kutte.

Nothing wrong with that, maybe he went to get ice or to take a phone call.

The suite was large, with a separate sitting room, and so she checked around for a bit before realizing he had, in fact, vanished.

Anxiety rose in her chest but she pushed it down, taking a seat on the edge of the bed to reach for her lipstick on the nightstand.

But the lipstick was in her purse and there was no purse to be found, just a few condom wrappers and tiny, empty bottles of booze.

She’d taken her purse into the bathroom with her, she was sure of it.

After a few sweeps of the place, mumbling to herself in disbelief and horror, Charlene realized that her purse, her money, and her car keys were all gone.

She’d been hustled by a member of the Coffin Kings, and the truth of it made her scream into the palms of her hands.

She sprinted for the window to yank the curtains back. It was the middle of the night, and they were on one of the highest floors, and she couldn’t see the Jaguar from there even with binoculars.

She didn’t even bother to change out of her robe or put shoes on as she bolted from the room. She was pissed, sure, but there were sobs catching in her throat, and that old loneliness dropped like a lead weight, threatening to bring her to her knees.

By the time she rushed breathless into the lobby, Nick and her car were long gone.

—------

For whatever reason, Charlene asked Eddie specifically not to tell Steve; she didn’t want to face him under such lame circumstances. But the two men made an agreement a while back that one would tell the other if they ever heard from her, just to keep miscommunication to a minimum when dealing with someone who had a track record for manipulation.

“She thinks one of you put this Nick guy up to it,” you said, standing at the door watching Eddie get dressed. “As payback or something.”

Eddie frowned, adjusting the strap on his watch. “If I felt like I needed to get back at Charlene, I sure as hell wouldn’t trust someone else with the task. Plus, I didn’t even know she was back in town.”

“Did Steve know?”

The last person you ever wanted to feel bad for was the rich white woman who tried to ruin your life, but still, you didn’t like the idea of any woman getting hustled and used in that way.

Okay, maybe Charlene deserved some payback, but you hated to think that someone from the Coffin Kings was out there making a habit of taking advantage of women in such a spineless way.

Eddie was rummaging through the top dresser drawer. “We don’t even have a member named Nick, so that’s another whole fucking problem.”

“Another charter, maybe?” You followed him into the kitchen.

“Maybe,” he put his leather jacket on while Scully wound herself around his legs. He bent down to pet her and spoke to her in a baby voice before finishing his thought. “Or maybe it’s something worse.”

You didn’t have to ask to know that impersonating a member of the MC was a big problem.

Under any other circumstances, Eddie would wait until the next day to deal with whatever happened to Charlene, but the chop shops worked fast, and if they didn’t hurry, they’d never get her car back.

Why did Eddie even care? He asked himself that on the way to meet Steve at the hotel, rumbling along in his midnight blue, square box Chevy. She could’ve just called the cops and let them sort it out. But Eddie knew that, aside from Hopper, the police force was a joke, and there would be days of paperwork and questioning before anything attempted to get solved. By then, whoever the guy was would be long gone, and the Jaguar on a cargo ship to its next owner.

Steve was already in the parking lot, leaning against his bike with a smoke in his mouth when Eddie rolled up.

“How the hell did you get here so fast?” He asked, slamming the door of his truck.

“Left a message for Miser down at the chop shop,” Steve exhaled, ignoring his friend’s question. “He said he’ll keep an eye out for the car.”

Eddie had already sucked down his ration of cigarettes for the day, so he shoved another piece of gum in his mouth as they made their way to her floor.

There was a crystal chandelier in the lobby and mirrored elevators that gave Eddie the creeps.

“You think it’s some sort of trap?” Steve had his hands in his pockets, leaning in the corner while they traveled up with a Beach Boys instrumental played from a speaker in the ceiling. “Like she’s trying to trick us or something?”

“That’s what we’re here to find out,” Eddie muttered. “I’m not gonna mention it to Bones and the rest until we know what we’re dealing with.”

Still in her robe, Charlene would’ve touched up her makeup to look presentable, but her Estee Lauder compact, and mascara were both in the stolen purse. Also, she was too upset to care. She’d called to cancel the credit cards in her wallet, but there was a bunch of cash that she’d surely never see again. She’d have to contact her bank in the morning, but until then, she was basically squatting in that expensive hotel room.

Eddie did not look happy to see her when she opened the door, but she’d expected as much, tucking her bob of hair behind her ears.

What she hadn’t expected, and what made her breath catch, was that Steve rolled in right behind him, scowling. He had what appeared to be baby spit up on the front of his Santa Cruz skate shirt and dark indents under his eyes.

Steve didn’t acknowledge her, he just breezed into the room and started looking around like he was a seasoned detective at the scene of a murder.

Charlene gave Eddie a look, whispering, “I asked you not to tell him?”

All Eddie could do was shrug, as he was still weary of her intentions, and for good reason.

Steve couldn’t help it, ever since the birth of his daughters, every injustice done to a woman in the world was something that could potentially happen to his girls, and he wasn’t having it.

“What did he look like?” Eddie asked the question just as Steve spun on his heel at the other side of the bed.

Hands on hips, she gave the description as best she could, and it sounded like half the guys in the club.

“He said his name was Nick?” Steve picked up the remote to turn the TV up a notch. Unsolved Mysteries was on and he was suddenly interested, forever distracted. “Do you think he was telling the truth?”

Charlene scoffed. “I had no reason to think he was lying? I didn’t ask to check his driver’s license.”

“Maybe you should from now on,” Steve kept his eyes on the screen, sitting down at the end of the bed. “The way you go through men like a meat grinder.”

“Look who’s talking, Romeo,” she spit back.

Charlene turned to complain to Eddie, but instead he held his hand up, palm out to silence her. “Are you sure he was with the Coffin Kings?”

Charlene tightened the sash on her robe. “Okay, you two can feel however you want about me, but you know I’m nothing if not observant.”

The two were silent in agreement.

“His leather vest looked just like the ones you have on now. Black, tooled leather with the reaper holding a coffin on the back. Embroidered insignias on the front as well.”

“Did it have a nickname or rank?” Eddie stuffed a third piece of wintermint gum in his mouth while Steve lit another smoke. The smell of the nicotine made Eddie’s hand twitch and his muscles ache.

Charlene shook her head after a moment of contemplation. “He didn’t have a name on his cut, but Hawkins was the charter, I’m positive.”

Both men shared a look before Steve got to his feet. “So you had your car stolen, what’s the big deal? Don’t you have like a hundred of them?”

Charlene shot him a look, reminding herself not to be a bitch. “That car belonged to my dad. It was special. He’s the only person in this world who ever gave a shit about me.” She went to the bedside table to grab a half empty travel size bottle of Jameson and drank the rest. “That’s why I kept it in storage. I couldn't take it with me, and I didn’t want to sell it.”

Eddie scratched the stubble on his chin, thinking about how he couldn’t wait to go home to crawl in bed with you and the cats.

“How much is it worth?” Steve asked out of curiosity.

Charlene shrugged, leaning against the wall to cross her feet at the ankles. “Dunno what it would go for today. Easily 300K.”

Eddie almost choked on his wad of gum thinking of what he could do with that much dough.

Steve raised an eyebrow. “You better hope this Nicky is stupid and greedy enough to sell it locally, or we might be shit out of luck.”

—-----

You felt Eddie slink in under the covers to spoon you early in the morning before dawn, but you were too tired to look at the clock or ask him how it went. Charlie was curled up at your feet and Scully took her pregnant belly over to nestle behind Eddie’s knees and purr.

He wasn’t in bed with you at quarter to 8 when you finally rose from sleep, and for a second, you thought maybe you’d only dreamed about him coming home, until you saw the note he’d left on the nightstand.

Had to run again

Tell you everything later

Left the coffee on

Love you infinity, Eddie

The way he always signed his notes made you chuckle, as if anyone else would be leaving notes for you at the house. You folded it up and tucked it into the shoebox in the closet where you stashed all of his notes to you.

After a half hour of letting yourself rejoin the living on a much-needed day off, you went up to the studio to stare at the two paintings you were working on, but your reverie was shattered when the phone rang.

Breathless, you answered to find that it was Robin. The shrill wail of a screaming child sounded from somewhere in the background.

“Is Steve there at your place?” She sounded rightfully flustered.

“No, um,” you looked around the kitchen as if maybe he was there, you just didn’t know it. “Eddie was here but then he left again. They might be together?”

A thoughtful silence and then, “Steve never came home last night. We assumed he stayed at your place.”

You were shaking your head but then realized Steve could have slept in the living room and you wouldn’t have been the wiser. You walked through the house to see if there was a blanket on the couch, but it was as tidy as you’d left it before bed.

“Are you busy right now?” Robin continued, making the executive decision to worry about Steve’s whereabouts later.

That was a loaded question, and even though you had plenty to do, you knew that was Robin’s way of saying she needed help. “Not…right this minute.”

“I hate to ask,” it was true, she really did hate to ask for help, but sometimes it was necessary. “Could you come over here for an hour or so? Katie has teacher conferences, I have to go to the Hammer, and as you know, Steve is MIA…”

“Sure,” Mae let out another earth-cracking wail that made you fear for your life. “Be there in ten minutes.”

—------

Miser’s underground chop shop operated behind one of the oldest buildings in Hawkins; solid brick, using a mom-and-pop place to get an oil change as a front during the day, but at night, stolen cars were stripped for parts and/or sold on the black market. The building was huge, and had once been a busy hotel and saloon, as it was near the train station.

Miser himself was short and muscular with a gray, handlebar mustache, a rodeo buckle from his old bareback days, and a cowboy hat. He’d been a pillar of the community for decades, and one of the last few anyone would suspect of illegal activity.

That morning, Eddie, Steve, Van, and Devlin rolled into the alley, passed the No Trespassing signs, and settled at the locked garage door. Miser’s Old Lady was one of the head Hells Belles named Jackal, and she came out of the back door with him. A long ponytail of silver hair, she lit a smoke and gave the guys a tip of her chin.

“That car you said to look out for? The white Jaguar?”

Eddie and Steve still had their sunglasses on, nodding once in unison his question.

“The guy showed up an hour ago,” Jackal inclined her head, whispering. “He’s been here before. He’s with another crew that likes to scam older women and take their shit.”

Steve and Eddie exchanged a look with the other two members, palms itching to get their hands on him.

“I asked him about the Kings flash,” Jackal continued. “He said he was from another charter, but he didn’t know who Bones was.”

Bones, President of the Coffin Kings Hawkins charter, was one of the first original 9 members of the MC when they first banded in the 60’s. Every CK member from Indiana to California knew exactly who Bones was.

So, this guy Nick just made it to the top of their shit list.

“This might get messy,” Eddie said to Miser.

“We got you,” Jackal confirmed, waving for them to follow her.

At the far end of the building, a door opened, and a guy with slick black hair, wearing a Coffin Kings kutte stepped out.

“Shit, that’s him—” Miser hissed, reaching for the Ruger at his hip.

But it was too late, the guy saw them and bolted.

Steve cursed, letting out after him on foot alongside Jackal, while Eddie and the others pursued on their bikes.

Around the next building, there was a car waiting for Nick—a plain white sedan—and even after Steve summoned his high school athlete days, he still couldn’t catch up. Nick jumped in the passenger seat and the vehicle peeled out, throwing dust up into Steve’s face as his arms windmilled to a halt.

“Fuck,” Steve took his sunglasses off and threw them to the gravel, nostrils flaring as he watched the vehicle flee.

Miser sent a gunshot, aiming for the front tire, but missed as the car picked up speed.

Eddie and the others continued on in hot pursuit, and Jackal motioned for Steve to get into her truck that was nearby: a lifted navy Bronco with monster tires. Steve had to grip onto the side bar to heft himself up into it, and then she gunned it, skidding out of the parking lot.

The sedan led them on a wild chase over the railroad tracks, skirting the center of town to avoid the cops. Eddie and Van made their way to the side of the vehicle and Van cracked the driver’s side window with the hilt of his knife, making them swerve. The car dove into the nearby alfalfa field, going where they knew the motorcycles couldn’t follow.

But, Jackal’s Bronco was made for the mud.

“Hold on—” she warned Steve.

“I’m holding,” Steve said through gritted teeth, eyes narrowed on the target in front of them, his fist tight on the grab handle above his head.

The sedan almost got its back tire stuck in the ditch, but the Bronco bounced right through the muck like it was a paved road, tractor tread crawling along like a tank.

While Steve and Jackal took a diagonal course through farmland, Eddie and the rest took the next side road, aiming to cut them off before they could hit the highway.

—-----

You were on your way to Robin’s when you caught sight of a white car being chased through a field by what looked like a monster truck from one of rallies at the coliseum.

“What…the—-”

It was far enough away that you didn’t feel in danger, but you slowed down to see if you could understand what was happening.

But then three riders on motorcycles were headed in your direction at full tilt, so you pulled off to the side of the road to get out of their way, wondering if you knew any of them—-

“Eddie?” You squinted, wanting to be mistaken.

Indeed that was your boyfriend leading the pack.

He saw you as they passed at lightning speed and picked up his hand in a wave.

You sat there for a while, watching the three of them disappear in your rearview mirror, clearly angling to beat whoever was driving their car through the crop rows.

After a heavy sigh, you dropped your shoulders and kept on in the direction you were headed.

Three years ago, you would’ve freaked out and followed them. But at that point in the relationship, such a scene was par for the course, and you knew it was best to stay out of it.

—----

Up ahead was a sharp turn in the bend, and Devlin sped up to angle the sedan away from the street. His approach clipped the bumper of the car, making it lose control, forcing it back into the ditch, but it also made his own bike go flying. Thankfully he was thrown free before the hunk of metal landed on his leg, skidding across the gravel.

Jackal rode her tire up onto the back of the sedan, pinning it there as the two men inside fled.

Steve was on the ground so fast, he could barely find his feet. His legs felt like that of a roadrunner in one of the cartoons, flying in circles.

Eddie snagged the driver, throwing him into the dirt with a grunt, followed with a punch of his fist. The driver was gangly, with a prison spider web tat on his elbow and dishwater blonde hair styled in a mullet.

Nick climbed up onto the main road and bolted, until Jackal aimed and shot a bullet so close to his head, the heat grazed his ear.

That made him stutter to a halt, just in time for Steve to tackle him at the waist, putting him down hard on the pavement. Van took Eddie’s place, putting his knee into the driver’s back, pinning him there while the rest went to deal with the Coffin Kings imposter.

No words were exchanged for a while, just Nick sputtering in pain while Eddie rolled him over to check his pockets.

He found a wad of bills and waved it in Nick’s bloody face.

“C’mon man, that’s like 2 grand—-” Nick protested through a busted lip before Steve punched him again.

“Yeah, it’s real nice,” Eddie flashed a grin, standing to tuck the money in the top pocket of his leather. “Take that thing off of him.”

Steve and Devlin got the leather vest off, making sure they hurt him in the process, and then Devlin put his boot on the guys belly to keep him there.

Eddie inspected the insignia’s, noticing there were no rank or name placards, and the material wasn’t even real leather.

Eddie gripped it in his fist. “Where the fuck did you get this?”

“I didn’t mean anything by it, I swear,” Nick wiggled, grimacing at the weight of Devlin’s foot. “Just let me go, okay?”

Steve bent down to lap the guys face with the back of his hand. “He asked you a question.”

Nick looked like he’d rather vomit than tell the truth, but then Jackal stepped up and pointed her gun at him.

“Okay okay!” He squirmed. “M-my mom made it for me, alright? For my birthday a few weeks ago.”

None of them had been expecting that, but they all made eye contact and snickered in disbelief; Eddie’s grin nearly split his face open right before his expression turned dark again.

“Tell your mom to come see us sometime, we’ll put her to work,” he joked. “But you? You’re fucking done, do you understand—?”

Steve pulled Nick to his feet by his shirt and got in his face, jaw tense. “I should kill you for what you did to her.”

Eddie gave a sideway look, not expecting Steve to still have so much heat under his protectiveness for that woman. Maybe that’s part of what having daughters did to a man.

“B-b-but you’re not going to, right?” Nick blubbered. “We’re cool?”

“We’re far from cool,” Steve pulled him close to whisper in his ear. “I’ll be coming for you.”

And then Steve shoved him so that he tripped over his feet backwards and fell again.

“You better run, cowboy,” Jackal shot a bullet into the ground at his feet, and he let out a high-pitched scream before taking off down the road on foot.

“I see either of you again, you’re dead. Understand?” Eddie shouted after both of them as Van let go of his death grip on the driver.

The two were too scared to look back; too busy scurrying away as fast along the corn field to care about how stupid they looked.

“Hey, War Machine,” Van brushed blonde hair away from his beard stubble. “Was that your girl we passed back there?”

Eddie checked over his shoulder in the direction of the farmhouse, wondering where you’d been headed, exhaling a long breath. “Yeah, it was.”

—-----

You only saw Robin in passing once you arrived at the house and parked behind the Airstream. Oliver was at school, so it would be the three young girls with you and Astrid.

The twins were on the floor in the living room, coloring, and you couldn’t get over how much Gracie looked like Steve. Since they were fraternal, Rue resembled her sibling, but was also very different. She had Astrid’s wild hair and a face that didn’t quite resemble either of their parents; Astrid said she was the spitting image of their grandmother, Evelyn.

Astrid came around the corner cradling Mae in her arms with her mane of black hair back in a clip, and her eyes were puffy.

“Please take her,” she groaned, handing over Mae into your arms with a sigh of relief. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Mae had a pacifier in her mouth, but you could tell she was smiling up at you, lids droopy. You began that automatic movement of rocking her in your arms. You’d never been around many babies in your life, but the soothing gesture seemed to be ingrained in your dna.

Astrid flopped heavily into the kitchen chair with a groan. “Did Robin tell you Steve never came home last night?”

“She did,” you bent to kiss Mae’s soft forehead. “Eddie came home late and left early, so Steve might’ve been with him, and I just didn’t know it.”

“It’s not like Steve to not leave a note or let me know somehow,” she started picking at an invisible thread on her peach dress that buttoned down the front. “Do you think he did anything with Charlene?”

You were shocked at the question, but your friend looked like she hadn’t slept in days and perhaps wasn’t processing thoughts at peak capacity.

“Oh god no, Astrid,” Mae squirmed, kicking her strong little legs a few times in her Big Bird onesie, and you sat down in the chair next to Astrid. “Steve would never, and I think you know that. He’d cut his own hand off before he did anything as stupid as cheat on you.”

“Maybe,” she swallowed hard like she was trying to push down a sob. “We just…can’t seem to connect like we used to, and I’m just…just…”

She covered her face with both hands and cursed into her palms.

“Hey,” you leaned forward with a free arm to rub soothing circles on her back. “I’ll stay out here with the girls if you want to take a nap or something? Slam some beers in the bathroom, whatever.”

Astrid chuckled a bit at that, sliding her hands down her face and into her lap. “Maybe I do need some sleep.”

From where you sat, you could see the twins on the floor in the next room with papers and crayons scattered about. Just then, you noticed that Rue was headed in your direction, curls bouncing around her face.

There was a tiny frown on her face, like she’d been concentrating, and she handed each of you a piece of lined notebook paper that had been ripped in half.

Apparently, she’d made some drawings, but before you could say anything, she was off again, determined to get back to her work.

“Thank you Rue, I love you,” you called after her.

“One is from meeee!” Gracie shouted.

“I love you too, Gracie,” you laughed, staring fondly down at the mess of colorful scribbles.

“They want to be like their big brother so bad,” Astrid had tears in her eyes, but for a different reason this time; she was so proud of her little family, so grateful to be a mother.

When you held the paper up to the light, you noticed that there was some writing on the back of it, so you turned it over.

My hot wife —

Slept in trailer, didn’t want to wake the girls

Can’t wait to kiss you again

I love you

“Um, I think you should see this—” you passed the note to Astrid, and enjoyed watching the relief spread across her face as she read it.

—------

A few hours later, Steve rolled up to Munson’s Garage in the Jaguar, after giving it a test run around the hills to enjoy how smooth it took corners. He found Charlene already waiting there on a bench in the shade, talking with Wayne who wore a pair of light blue coveralls.

Wayne got to his feet while Steve pulled the sportscar up to the closest parking spot.

“Took you long enough,” Uncle barked at him, crossing his arms. “Cab dropped her off an hour ago.”

He’d left the top down, so his hair was a mess, and he pushed his sunglasses up, eyeing the two.

“No, it’s fine,” Charlene shrugged, looking relaxed. “I had good company.” She had on a teal, halter top pant suit with matching heels, and she stuck out like a sore thumb.

Steve put one booted foot up on the bench seat next to her. “Yeahm, so, that guy Nick, he wasn’t—”

“I know,” Charlene reluctantly held her hand out to take the keys he was offering. “Eddie told me. I’d like to say I’ve learned my lesson, but probably not.”

“No woman deserves that,” Wayne said, giving Steve a pointed look. “I hope you boys took care of it.”

“We did,” Steve met his gaze, letting him know without words that the dude wouldn’t be hanging around Hawkins if he had a lick of sense.

Wayne said a polite goodbye to Charlene before heading back to the shop.

“You never mentioned how charming your uncle is,” she said, running a hand through her hair.

“Stay away from Wayne,” Steve grumbled, sitting down across from her.

“I didn’t mean—” she got flustered and then straightened. “He reminds me of my dad, that’s all I meant. Nothing nefarious.”

“Never can tell with you,” he muttered, fumbling to rip the wrapper off a soft pack of Camels with his teeth. He told himself he wouldn’t buy another pack, but he lied.

There was silence while Steve lit his smoke, all but for the sound of faint rock music and an electric drill from one of the garages.

“So,” she chanced. “I hear you have a big family now.”

“Yeah, what about ‘em?” He scowled at her after a hearty inhale.

Charlene lifted both palms out as a sign of surrender. “Forget it, I was going to say I’m happy for you.”

Steve snorted. “You expect me to believe that, after all the shit you pulled, that you actually give a shit about anyone?”

She’d expected that, and she knew she deserved it.

“I give a shit about you,” she muttered. “I would’ve done anything for you.”

The sincerity confused him but then he pushed his shoulders back. “I’ve got everything I ever wanted, and I won’t let anyone fuck with that. ‘Specially not you.”

“Understood,” she said, rubbing her magenta lips together with a nod.

“I want you to be happy, though,” he softened his tone. “I cared about you once, and that means I always will, no matter how much I wish that weren’t true. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

“That’s probably the kindest thing anyone has ever said to me,” she scoffed a self-deprecating laugh.

“That sucks,” Steve exhaled through his nostrils. “You’ve got a good heart, Charlene. It’s just too bad you don’t know how to use it.”

A car pulled into the compound and at first, Steve didn’t pay much attention until he saw over his shoulder that it was you.

With Astrid and the girls.

—-----

Eddie turned the radio up in the garage when Come and Get It by Judas Priest came on, and then wiped his hands on a red rag as he made his way to the office. Although the finances at the Hammer and the garage were handled separately, he’d hired one accountant he trusted to take care of it all, and she’d just left a stack of paperwork for him to sign.

On the wall behind the desk was a framed photo of the two of you together, hugging in the front doorway of the farmhouse the first day you’d moved in. The flashback made his mouth twitch in a smile, as he had so many fond memories of those first couple weeks, back when there was nothing but a mattress on the floor and several leaks in the roof he had to control with various buckets. It was just the two of you, making love and whispering about lifetimes of devotion.

He had a secret place in the metal file cabinet where he kept all of the notes you’d left in his lunch over the months, and he had this tugging need to look through them again just before he caught sight of your car coming through the open gate and into the compound. Wayne was gone, but there on the picnic table sat Charlene and Steve, and before he could think too much about it, his feet were moving, wrenching the door open to make his way across the lot.

Steve jumped up when he saw you angling for a parking spot nearby. Oh shit, Eddie realized you had Astrid and the girls with you, too. The fact that they’d helped Charlene was no secret, but still, it made him feel uneasy with everyone about to converge in one spot.

—------

“Please tell me that is not Charlene,” Astrid whispered, eyeing the profile of the woman sitting across from her husband.

“I’m afraid that is exactly who it is,” you muttered, suddenly feeling like maybe it wasn’t a great idea to bring the girls by to visit daddy at work. It had been a while, and you assumed she’d be gone by then.

But it was too late now. You recognized the Jaguar parked nearby; it was the same one she brought in for Eddie to fix that first day you met.

All three girls were safely in car seats in the back, and when Astrid went to step out, Steve was right there, blocking her exit.

Funny enough, Eddie did the same, but on your side. He was there so fast, you accidentally hit his leg with the door.

“What a sight for sore eyes,” he grinned, pulling you flush to him while tipping your chin up for a kiss.

With lips still brushing together, you mumbled: “What the hell is she still doing here?”

And then through gritted teeth, Eddie responded: “Your guess is as good as mine.”

Steve went to grab for Astrid right away, hands at her hips, and she let him, but her attention was over his shoulder.

“To what do I owe this pleasure, gorgeous?” He murmured, noticing that she’d put on some mascara and deep burgundy lipstick after not wearing makeup for months.

Steve only shuffled back a few steps to allow her to shut the door, but then he continued to act as a barrier to keep her from going any further. He bent down to knock on the back window, waving to the twins as Mae slept in the car seat between them. Gracie shouted “daddy!” and held her hand out as if he could grab it through the glass.

Steve glanced sideways at Eddie. “So, should we all go get pizza or something? At that one place with the bouncy balls that the girls like? My treat. If you head over there, we’ll meet you—-”

Eddie was close to telling his friend to shut the hell up, as it felt like his babbling was only making things worse.

Astrid kissed his cheek. “Please move out of my way, Steven.”

—----

Charlene stood up and took hold of the keys to head for the Jaguar. She could tell by the looks you and Astrid were sharing that she’d managed to make things awkward, and more than anything, she felt embarrassed.

But, she took a step away from the picnic bench just in time to see Steve’s twin daughters come bouncing out of the vehicle in matching Oshkosh overalls and her chest tightened—-oh god, one of them was the spitting image of Steve.

And why were the two tiny girls headed that way on their little wobbly legs as if they knew her?

“Slow down, Rue!” Astrid called after them as Steve fumbled at getting the car seat out that had Mae inside.

“She’s, um, she was just leaving,” Steve grunted, trying to move the apparatus out without waking the baby. Astrid was already rushing to catch up with the girls, making each of them hold one of her hands.

For some reason, Charlene was frozen. Locking eyes with Gracie, knowing they were Steve’s hazel eyes, accumulated with the rest of her regrets like a punch to the gut.

Her deep dark secret was that she’d always wanted children of her own, but John refused.

You and Eddie followed them over, albeit reluctantly. If there were ever some serious conversation that needed to be had with Charlene, it certainly wouldn’t be done with the kids there, and so you weren’t at all sure what could possibly unfold.

Although Charlene and Astrid had spent a very tense few moments together the night Craig was shot, they’d never shared more than a few words with each other. Last night, when Steve got the page from Eddie, she’d known it was about Charlene before he even said a thing; she could feel her arriving in her bones like some might feel the impending threat of cold weather.

Steve hurried to get between the two women and set the baby carrier on the picnic table. Gracie was on her tiptoes with her arms up, begging him to put her on his shoulders, and so he did, and she took hold of his hair like a saddle horn.

“Glad we could meet under better circumstances,” Astrid said to Charlene, sincerely.

Eddie put his arm around your shoulder and you sank into him, wrapping both arms around his middle. You wished you could hide under his blue and black flannel so no one could see you.

“You have a really beautiful family,” was all Charlene could think to say as she caught sight of Steve’s third daughter.

“Thank you,” Astrid replied, maintaining steady eye contact.

There were a few strained silences, and you could feel Eddie wanting to fill them, but suddenly he burst out with:

“Did you want to come by the Hammer and see what we’ve done with the place?” He chirped, rubbing your arm almost violently.

Your whole body tensed at that, and you could see that it was the same physical response for Steve.

“No, that’s…I’m good,” Charlene removed the Gucci sunglasses from the top of her head and put them over her eyes. “There are several cargo crates of my things being sent to Hawaii right now, and I have a flight to catch. But I’m sure you’ve done well with it.”

But it was Rue who broke the next silence.

She’d wandered a few yards over to the fence and back, carrying two bright yellow dandelions pinched between her fingers.

She was right there, blocking Charlene’s path to her car, arm outstretched to offer her one.

“For me?” Charlene was genuinely confused, and not accustomed to the wholesome kindness often displayed by children.

Rue just nodded, tucking the other one behind her ear so that the bloom was at her cheek.

The rest of you exchanged a few baffled looks—all but Astrid, because she knew what was happening. She knew then that her daughter carried the same gift she’d been born with; the gift of intuitive sight. Even at her young age, Rue could read people and their intentions, and she knew that Charlene was no longer a threat to them. She knew that everyone in that parking lot deserved healing and forgiveness.

“Like this?” Charlene put the flower in her hair the same way with tentative fingers, and Rue nodded again, moving around the woman to walk back over to her family.

Astrid scooped Rue up into her arms.

Charlene took one last look over at the group as she drove out of the compound, seeing the way you all smiled at each other, continuing on with conversation as if she’d never been there. You were all visibly relieved to no longer be sharing space with her, but Rue had been able to see her with fresh eyes, without all of the pain and suffering she’d inflicted on others and on herself. There’d been no judgment or weariness in that child’s eyes; just curiosity and love. It gave her a bit of hope that maybe she could…start over. Maybe she’d fall in love again with a guy who wasn’t Steve, maybe she’d adopt a child of her own one day, or maybe…she’d get a dog and call it a day.

—------

A few days later, you couldn’t find Scully, and the two of you fell into panic mode.

“Did you let her out?” Eddie snapped. “You know we need to keep her inside this close to the due date.”

Eddie was a mess. Granted, you were upset too, but he was ready to tear the whole house apart looking for her, and then some. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself seeing how devoted he was to this once stray cat. Some nights he even made room between the two of you so that Scully could sleep in the middle.

But finally, a soft mewing from the closet alerted you to the fact that she’d tucked herself away in the dark to have her babies.

“Honey, come look,” you whispered down the hall to him.

There she was, snuggled back in the corner in a box of old sweatshirts, nursing four tiny baby kittens. She had one more a half hour later to make the final count five. Two black, one gray, one black and white, and one orange striper.

“Daddy must’ve been an orange guy, hey my darling?” He hummed a conversation to Scully as you picked them all up to put down some fresh blankets, making sure she had food and water nearby.

“What should we name them?” Eddie asked as you both sat in the doorway, watching them nuzzle together for sleep.

“I think we should let Oliver name the orange little girl, since I know that’s the one he’ll pick,” you whispered, to which Eddie agreed. “Maybe I’ll name the gray one Keanu,” you said, mostly joking, but Eddie didn’t seem bothered. As soon as it was possible, Scully would be back at the vet to get fixed, but you were grateful to have this experience with him.

“Can I name the black ones Dio and Vecna?” He asked, hopefully.

“What kind of a name is Vecna?” You wrinkled your nose. “Should we call him Vicky for short?”

“The black and white looks like a Leia,” he continued, eyes sparkling.

“Leia is a good name,” you hummed, putting your cheek on his shoulder.

You moved Scully and her box of babies into your bedroom so that she would be closer if she needed anything, but then in the middle of the night, she moved the kittens back to the same spot in the guest bedroom closet, so then that is where you let her stay.

Later that night, you were in the kitchen cleaning up before bed, when you heard Eddie singing a song under his breath in the next room:

“Hey little girl is your daddy home, did he go and leave you all alone…”

You thought you recognized it as you scrubbed a dish, eyes darting to the window to watch two motorcycles zoom by on the dark highway in the distance.

“I got a bad desire…”

On the refrigerator behind you, secured by magnets, were photo snapshots of the two of you with Steve and Astrid, Robin and Katie, Gracie, Rue and one of Mae when she was first born. There was one of Wayne twenty years ago, standing with Taz and War Machine as two gangly teenagers. There was a long strip from a photo booth at the fair with you, Eddie, and Oliver all making faces for the camera.

“Tell me now, baby, is he good to you

Can he do to you the things that I do? I can take you higher…”

He’d been folding the blanket on the couch and blowing out candles, but then he was on his way to you as the mumbled lyrics got clearer:

“Sometimes it's like someone took a knife, baby, edgy and dull

And cut a six-inch valley through the middle of my skull…”

You finished what you were doing, but then you stayed still, feeling him come up behind.

“At night, I wake up with the sheets soaking wet

And a freight train running through the middle of my head…”

You leaned back, letting yourself be caged in his embrace; his head dipping to kiss your neck. You thought about that day on the side of the road when he picked you up in the tow truck, and how it didn’t feel like you were meeting for the first time but more, coming back together after a lifetime apart.

His lips ghosted the shell of your ear. “Only you can cool my desire…”

After that first kiss years ago, you knew there would never be another option for you; Eddie Munson was endgame. Having tasted true love once in your life, you felt like you could die happy.

But not until you rode the highway of life for a long, long time. Even at the end, you’d still be holding on tight.

“...Oh oh oh I’m on Fire…”

—------

The Epilogue of an Epilogue

“Yo, Steve. Package for you.”

It was Thumper, working the door at the Velvet Hammer for what promised to be a wild Friday night. Max ended up showing interest in the Assistant Manager position, after deciding that long haul trucking was taking a toll on her need to start a family, and Robin couldn’t hire her fast enough. Jeff also came on as a part-time bartender, leaving you pleasantly surprised and wondering what other skill sets he had up his sleeve.

Steve had just come through the door to ask Shana for a cup of coffee when the crumpled brown piece of mail flew at his chest. He caught it, but took the time to throw Thumper a dirty look.

“Ease up, boss,” the burly biker grumbled through a huge grin. “Since when do you have a penpal in Hawaii?”

He stopped in his tracks at that, afraid to look down. Afraid to open it, even. Steve’s newest ink—-Mae’s name on the back of his hand—-glistened from the recent layer of Aquaphor.

He asked for his coffee with a pound of sugar and sat at the end of the bar, frowning.

The return address was a P.O. box in Honolulu without a name, but he didn’t even have to wonder. He was sure he could smell the Chanel through the packaging.

Inside was a ring of keys.

Car keys, clearly, but it took him a second to understand what they belonged to and why they looked so familiar in his hand.

There was also a note:

These are the keys to the Jaguar. It’s parked in a secure garage at the airport, instructions also enclosed.

Every time I drive it, I get myself in trouble. Hopefully you will have better luck, or maybe Rue can have it when she gets older.

The dandelion was a fair trade.

—----

I have so much to say, so much love to give to you all, and I hope you can feel it through the words. I'm so deeply grateful for each one of you and this experience. Whether you have left comments, reblogs, thoughtful asks, or edits, I remember you and you are special to me. I would give anything to meet up at the Velvet Hammer for cocktails (and/or tea, of course) but here are a few in particular I'd like to thank:

Huge thank you to @cryptidcurio for being the initial inspiration for this fic in the first place, and for always feeding me the best ideas. Some of the most popular scenes in this series are from her. Our biker Eddie and biker Steve talks seem to have somehow gotten us through the past hellish year, I love you. I'm so grateful for @texasblues and all of our chats about Steve, Astrid, Wayne, and the girls. Truly, the only reason Astrid and Steve are so perfect is because of Jennie and our brainstorming. We chat a lot about what Rue, Gracie, and Mae will be like when they are older, and hopefully we'll have a few blurbs about that someday. Also, I highly recommend her Steve & Astrid writings HERE My beautiful friend @dandelionnfluff decided to do a bind of I'm on Fire for their personal use and I am still choked up about how much work they put in and how gorgeous it is. You can see their amazing work here: book bind

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Taglist: @notsobubblybaby @unfocused81 @aysheashea @etherealglimmer@manicmagicmayhem @dream-a-little-nightmare@chaoticgood-munson @emxcast @rhirojo @bexreadstoomuch @micheledawn1975 @falling-solar-system@secretdryrose

@whatwedontdointheshadows @miarosso @seventhlevelofhell @corrodedcoffincumslut @lofaewrites @goldyghoul @chloe-6123 @kelsiegrin @chelebelletx @stylesxmunson @kurdtbean@dandelionnfluff @hideoutside @truffleshuffle12 @tenthmoon @texasblues@emilyslutface@mmunson86@onegirlmanytales@laylaloves-ed@dashingdeb16@eddiiiieeee @ick90 @dashingdeb16 @polyestermonster @trixyvixx @atomickaratel8dy @kiyastrf94 @allthingsjoeq @eddiesxangel @razzieth @corrodeddeadlydoll @erinekc @angietherose @sllooney @writinginthetwilight @moonbeamsandmayhem @brianamunson92 @joannamuns9n @bellalillyrose @alba8688 @chevelle724

#I'm on Fire #IoF #biker!Eddie #biker!Steve #biker Eddie Munson #biker Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson fanfiction #biker au #Robin Buckley #Steve Harrington

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