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ssareids-coffee · 5 months

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Steddie x Babysitter!Reader Part 4

A/N: oh my god we’re finally here! All I can say is that this was a labour of love and sweat and tears. It probably sounds ridiculous to get so worked up over a silly little fan-fiction but I can honestly say I felt the pressure when writing this (probably mostly self-inflicted) because I’ve never had something I create be as popular as this series and I was so desperate to do it justice. It got to a point where I wanted to scrap the whole thing and forget it, but I’m glad I kept going and we got here in the end. I’m awfully fond of this little imaginary family, and so I wanted to give them a proper send off. I hope none of you are lactose intolerant because we’re about to get cheesy. There’s smut, angst, super sickly sweet mushy love, and an ending I hope you’ll all enjoy. There won’t be anymore parts to the series, but who knows I might write some blurbs here and there if inspiration strikes. Also just a heads up - tumblr really struggled with the formatting of this one because it’s so long (21k). I’m going to have to share the taglist in a reblog because there’s no room to fit it in here, and you may notice (particularly towards the end) that there’s some pretty long paragraphs. I couldn’t add new lines where I wanted them because there’s a max to how many you can have in a post, so I hope that won’t cause too much of a distraction to the flow of the story. If you’ve made it to the end of this rambling I’d just like to say thank you for all your love on this series, and for your support of my writing in general. And a massive thank you to my wonderful friends here just for being so sweet. Much love xxxx

Warnings: age gap relationship (reader is in her early twenties, Steve and Eddie are late thirties), unprotected piv, oral (m & f receiving) threesomes (obviously), breeding kink, pregnancy mentions, swearing, smoking, mild angst, Steve’s parents are shitty people, lots of tears, reader can be insecure in her relationship at times. I think that’s all but let me know if I’ve forgotten anything!

Find all the other parts in my Masterlist here

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Hawkins kindergarten was a relatively small building, just a few blocks away from your former high school. You’d walked past it every day for the duration of your school years, the front gate bustling each morning with parents and small children, some laughing and bouncing around, others clinging to their parents legs and shrieking, begging not to be left.

This morning it’s quiet, the children already inside, although you can hear faint shouts and laughs from the yard out the back.

Trees line the path leading up to the office steps, and a soft breeze whispers through the branches. The spring sun is bright enough to fend off any potential chill, but Eddie’s still wrapped in his leather jacket, his cloak of protection against the world. His leg had been bouncing anxiously in the car the entire ride here.

The three of you had decided it was time for Isla to join the school. She was a sociable girl, and most days she’d beg you to take her to the park, to soft play, to the community pool, anywhere that she could find other kids her age to play with.

Charlie spent weekdays here, and Nancy and Robin had assured you all that the preschool was great. Despite his shyness, their son loved it here, and you were sure Isla would feel the same. There had been the brief mention of enrolling her in the private preschool on the outskirts of town, the same place Steve had attended as a boy. But Eddie had been quite insistent that he didn’t want his daughter going there, being surrounded by the spoiled offspring of Hawkins elite. So here you were.

Steve squeezes your hand as he leads you up the concrete steps, Eddie following close behind you, your other hand clasped in his. He presses the buzzer on the office door, and a moment later it clicks to indicate it unlocking. Inside a pane of glass separates you from the young woman behind the desk. She’s on the phone, but gives the three of you a small smile in greeting, gesturing for you to take a seat on the chairs against the opposite wall.

“Good morning Mrs Clarke, it’s Gina. I’m very well thank you. Sorry to bother you at work, but we’ll need someone to come and pick up Thomas, he’s not very well. No, no he’s fine, a little upset but he’s alright. Okay, thank you, just tell your husband to come to the office to collect him. Thank you, goodbye.”

Gina hangs up the phone, scribbling something in the notebook on her desk. Then she turns her attention back to you.

“Good morning, how can I help?”

“Hi. We’ve got an appointment with Ms Lang.” Steve says.

“Lovely! You must be the Munson-Harrington’s. I’ll let Ms Lang know that you’re here.”

She picks up the receiver again, her longs nails clacking on the plastic buttons as she punches in the extension.

“Ms Lang, your 10 o’clock appointment is here. Okay. She won’t be a moment.” She says with a bright smile.

“Thank you.” Steve says.

Eddie’s leg continues to bounce beside you, only stopping when your palm comes to rest on his knee.

“It’s okay.” you whisper, leaning over to press a quick kiss to the corner of his lips.

“I know.” He grumbles.

“Just worryin’, that’s all.”

You pat his knee reassuringly, a reminder that you’re with him. You know he’s got good reason to worry, they both do. In fact Steve is just as worked up as his husband, he just does a better job of hiding it. The only indication that anything’s wrong is the constant combing of his fingers through his hair, tugging on the roots in frustration.

They’re used to judgement and cruelty when it comes to their family dynamic, even before you came along and complicated things further. They can take the hits, so used to the snide remarks and jabs that they roll off their toughened skin like water. The kids were a different story entirely. Both men were terrified of their children being ridiculed or mistreated because of them.

The door to your left swings open, a woman probably in her late fifties stepping through. Her cool blonde hair is streaked with silver, pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck, and a thin framed pair of glasses rest on the end of her nose. Her sensible brown loafers squeak on the tiled floor as she approaches you. You swallow a gulp at the thin gold chain around her neck, a small cross hanging between her collarbones. Steve squeezes your hand harder.

“Hello! Pleasure to meet you all. I’m Ms Lang. You’re here about your daughter, Isla, correct?”

She holds out her hand, a few sun spots littering her skin.

Steve stands, taking her hand in a firm grasp and shaking.

“Yes. Nice to meet you too, I’m Steve.”

She nods, releasing his hand and turning to Eddie, who also stands and introduces himself. Finally she turns to you, her grey eyes crinkling at the edges when she smiles.

“Hi. I’m Y/N.” You say, taking her hand in your own, cringing at the clamminess of your palm.

“Y/N.” She repeats brightly. “You must be Isla’s mother.”

“Um, no I'm not. I’m… I’m-“ you falter, suddenly unsure of how to introduce yourself, your eyes locked onto the shining crucifix.

“Actually,” Eddie interjects, “Isla is mine and Steve’s daughter. Y/N is our partner.”

He says the words calmly, but you can see the twitching of his jaw, and when his arm winds around your waist his hand squeezes you in a fierce grip.

If Ms Lang feels any judgment towards your set up, she doesn’t let on, her kind smile never wavering.

“I see. My apologies. Well shall we get going? I’m sure you’re all eager to look around and see if this is the place for Isla.”

“Of course. After you.” Steve smiles.

Ms Lang leads you through the school, down corridors lined with low coat hooks, colourful jackets and lunch boxes hanging either side of you. You stop to peer into a few classrooms through the small glass windows on the doors. The first is more of a nursery, and Ms Lang explains that the school takes in children as young as 6 months for daycare. The women inside bounce babies on their hips, some laying on their tummy’s across the play mat in the centre of the room, attempting to crawl to the bright plastic toys scattered around.

“Maybe we could bring Ben here a couple of days a week.” Eddie comments.

“No.” You whine. “I’m about to lose my best friend, don’t take Ben from me too.”

Eddie laughs at your pout and fluttering lashes, booping you on the end of your nose.

“You have a little boy too?” Ms Lang asks, her shoes continuing to squeak with every step.

“Yeah. He’s almost one.” Steve replies.

“How lovely. Well I understand your hesitation Y/N, it can be hard to feel like you’ve got an empty nest.”

You nod, turning a corner to stop outside another room. The laminated sign blu-tacked to the door reads “Sunshine Room” with a clip art image of a sun wearing dark glasses.

“This is for children a little older than Isla.” Ms Lang explains. Through the window you spot Charlie, sat beside a woman reading a story to the children gathered in a circle at her feet. Eddie taps on the window, interrupting story time as all the children and the teacher look up at the disruption. He grins, waving through the window, and Charlie gives him a smile, his cheeks blushing deep red.

“Eddie.” You hiss, pulling him away from the door.

“What? I was just saying hi to my little buddy!”

“You know one of the other children here?” The woman besides you asks.

“We’re friends with Charlie’s moms.” Steve explains.

“Ahh yes, Nancy and Robin. Lovely girls. And Charlie’s a sweet boy. It’s a shame Isla will be in the class below him, but all the children get to play together outside at lunch time.”

“She’ll love that. She always wants to be outside, doesn’t she baby?” Eddie says, hugging your waist.

“Yeah, she’s happiest when she’s covered in mud.” You laugh.

You move on, eventually coming to “The Rainbow Room”, Isla’s potential new class. The children inside are grouped around low plastic tables, splatting paint and smearing glitter across sheets of paper.

“Let’s go in, I’ll introduce you to Ms Hart.”

You follow Ms Lang and the boys into the classroom, all eyes in the room turning to the four of you.

“Good morning Ms Lang.” A young woman says, standing up from beside a table and making her way over to you.

“Morning Ms Hart. I thought I’d introduce you to Steve, Eddie, and Y/N. They’re thinking about enrolling their daughter here with us.”

“How nice!” Ms Hart says. She waves her paint covered palms at you.

“I’d shake your hands but-“

“Don’t sweat it, occupational hazard right?” Eddie chuckles.

“Yeah. So what’s your daughters name?”

“Isla.”

“Oh, that’s beautiful!

“Although she prefers Princess.” You joke.

“Ahh, don’t worry, I’ve got plenty of experience dealing with royalty.” The young woman explains, gesturing to a small girl at the nearest table, her blue plastic apron covering a glittering lilac dress, the polyester ruffles and netting swallowing the chair that she sits on.

“Ms Haaaart.” Comes a whine from the back of the room. A little boy has managed to tip over the plastic cup of water he’d been washing his brush in, soaking himself and his unfinished masterpiece. His bottom lip wobbles, and tears spring up in his eyes.

“Oh dear Harry! I’m coming!”

Ms Hart turns back to you, giving you an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, duty calls. Nice to meet you all!”

“You too!” You all call back, leaving her to clear up the mess, and calm down the now wailing Harry.

“She seems nice.” Steve comments when you’re back out in the quiet corridor.

“Yeah, I think Isla will like her.” You smile.

Ms Lang shows you the rest of the school, the cafeteria where all the children gather for lunch, and the vast playground with hopscotch grids painted onto the concrete, a wooden jungle gym stood on spongy astroturf.

When you return to her office she pauses.

“Well that’s just about everything! I can start the process of enrolling Isla now, or you’re more than welcome to go home and take some time to think about it.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary, I’m sure she’ll love it here.” Steve says.

“Perfect. Shall we get started?”

You file into her office, a large room with noticeboards covered in colourful paper across each wall. Beside the computer on her desk sits a collection of art projects: a toilet roll pencil holder, a clay disc with a tiny handprint pressed into it, a bunch of cotton balls glued together with googly eyes on top.

“It’s a sheep.” Ms Lang explains with a laugh when she catches you looking at it.

Behind her desk is a large plush chair, but on the side you’re standing there’s only two seats.

“Oh I’m sorry,” she says, sensing your hesitation. “Let me go grab another chair from reception.”

“I’m on it.” Eddie says, the chains on his jeans clinking as he heads out of the room.

You take a seat next to Steve, and Eddie returns a moment later, plopping himself down the other side of you.

Ms Lang begins by asking the boys for basic details about their daughter, full name, date of birth, her fingers tapping away on her keyboard after each answer.

“Any allergies or medical conditions we need to be aware of?”

“No.” Steve replies.

“Okay. And I need details for emergency contacts, and anyone who may be doing drop offs and pick ups.”

Steve and Eddie recite their information, then the woman turns to you.

“And now for Y/N.”

You tell her your address is the same as the boys, then give her your mobile number. You think you catch a quirk of her brow when you say your date of birth, and you wonder if she’s doing the math, figuring out the gap between you and the men at your sides. It could just be your anxious mind reading into things too much.

“And what would you like me to put as Y/N’s relationship to Isla?”

There’s a pause, Ms Lang glancing up at you as boys turn to face you.

“Um.. well-“ Steve starts.

“Mother.” Eddie says suddenly.

Your head snaps in his direction, jaw hanging agape.

“I thought you said Y/N wasn’t Isla’s mother?” The woman asks, no judgment in her tone, just curiosity. She peers over the thin wire frames of her glasses.

“I’m not.” You reply quietly.

“Yes you are.” Eddie insists, a fierceness in his voice that makes your chest ache. He takes your hand, interlacing his fingers through yours. “You’re her mom.”

“She doesn’t call me Mom, Ed.”

He shakes his head, curls bouncing with the motion.

“Doesn’t matter. It’s the best way to describe what you are to her.”

“I agree.” Steve says, giving you a small smile when you turn back to him.

Your throat feels too tight to respond verbally, so you just give a small nod of your head. Biting hard on your bottom lip you will yourself not to cry.

“Lovely.” Ms Lang says, a soft expression on her face.

She clicks her mouse, then swipes her finger across the small ball, scrolling down, then back up, then down again. She gives a few more clicks, the tapping of her finger getting harder each time, and she frowns, exhaling a frustrated sigh.

“Is something wrong?” Eddie asks.

“No, no. It’s just this is an.. outdated system. It will only allow you to allocate two parents per child. I can’t list Y/N as Isla’s mother if you’re both selected as her fathers.” She explains, still glaring at her screen and giving the occasional click.

“Oh. It’s okay.” You say, trying to mask the disappointment in your voice.

The woman gives you an apologetic look.

“What I can do, is put you down as a stepparent. But I’ll add some details in the notes section at the bottom of Isla’s file, explaining your relationship to her.”

“Thank you.” You reply.

Ms Lang takes her glasses off, folding them carefully before she leans forward on her desk, her hands folded beside her keyboard.

“I would just like to take a moment to reassure you all, that Isla will be very happy here. But we want you to be happy too. It’s important to me and the rest of our staff here that parents feel welcome and involved with the school. We appreciate and understand that families come in all shapes and sizes, and so while I don’t want to make any assumptions, I would like to reassure you if it is a concern, that the structure of your family is not a problem for myself or anyone else here.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realise you’d been holding, the two boys sinking into their chairs as their own bodies relax.

“Thank you.” Steve says. “Really, we appreciate it.”

With everything finalised, and a date agreed for Isla to start, Ms Lang wishes you well and shows you out. Once you’re outside and the door is closed behind you, you fling your arms around Eddie’s neck, burying your face in his curls and leaning your weight into him, almost toppling you both down the concrete steps.

“Woah! Hey, what’s this for?” Eddie says, steadying himself and holding you tight.

You tilt your head back, his features blurry from the tears in your eyes.

“What you said in there - did you mean it?” You sniffle.

“About you and Isla? Of course I meant it baby. You’re so good to her, she loves you so much.”

“I love her. Really, I love her and Ben so so much. I know they’re not really mine but-“

“Sshhh honey.” Steve whispers, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear so he can kiss your temple.

“They’re yours as much as they are ours.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

You’re a giddy emotional mess as you stumble down the stairs, jumping into the passenger seat of Steve’s car, eager to pick the kids up from Wayne and give them the biggest squeezes.

————————————————————————

“What’s wrong Princess?” You coo, watching as Isla pushes her spoon around, her cereal now just soggy milky mush.

“Don’t feel well.” She whispers, not looking up from her bowl.

You brush back her curls, pressing the back of your hand to her forehead.

“Mmmm. You don’t have a fever.”

“Tummy hurts.” She whines.

“Do you want a cuddle?”

She nods, reaching her arms up for you to pull her off of her stool. Her legs wrap around your waist while her arms snake behind your neck, and you rock her gently from side to side.

“What’s up?” Steve asks, frowning as he steps into the kitchen, carefully knotting his tie.

“She’s got a tummy ache.” You say softly, kissing the curls on the top of her head.

Steve strokes her back gently.

“Are you nervous about going to preschool?” You whisper in her ear. Her head nods against your neck.

“Isla, look at me.”

The girl tilts back her head, her doe eyes wet, bottom lip trembling.

“It’s okay to be scared. Everyone gets scared when they have to do new things.”

“Do you get scared?” She whispers.

“I do sometimes. You know, I was pretty nervous before I came here for the first time.”

“Why?”

“Well,” you say, hopping a little to shift her body higher, “I was worried you might not like me. Maybe you wouldn’t want to be my friend.”

“You’re my best friend.”

“Exactly. I didn’t need to be scared because you did like me, and now we’re best friends. It’ll be the same at school, the other children there will want to be your friend too.”

“Are you sure?”

“Very sure. How could they not like the funniest, smartest, bestest princess in the whole world!”

Isla giggles, and you smack a wet kiss on her cheek which has her squealing. You plop her back down on her chair.

“Do you want some new cereal?”

“No, this is okay.” She says, spooning the mush into her mouth, milk dribbling down her chin.

Steve gives you a grateful look, kissing you sweetly. He takes a step back, ruffling Isla’s hair.

“You’ll be fine kiddo.”

————————————————————————

Steve pulls up outside the school, killing the engine then turning in his seat to flash a bright grin at Isla in her car seat.

“Ready?”

She hesitates for a moment, glancing up at you in the middle seat, sandwiched between her and Ben. You squeeze her tiny hand.

“Yes.” She says quietly.

Eddie helps her out of the car, and Steve pulls out Ben’s carrier, giving you room to shuffle out. Isla grips yours and Eddie’s hands as you lead her up to the building, surrounded by chatting parents and laughing children. Ms Hart is stood by the gate, greeting children as they arrive. She occasionally cranes her neck, looking out of the crowd with narrowed eyes. When they land on you she grins, waving excitedly in your direction.

“Hi guys! Good to see you again!”

“You too.” Eddie replies.

“And this must be Isla!” The woman bops down to her level, her smile kind and warm.

“Hi.” Isla whispers.

“Hi sweetie. I’m so happy that you’re joining us. Are you excited?”

The little girl nods, and you breath a sigh of relief.

“Give me a big hug princess.” Eddie requests, stooping down to pull Isla into his arms. She squeezes Steve next, then turns to you.

“Remember what I said to you.” You whisper, feeling her arms cling to you. “It’s okay to be scared. But you’re going to have fun, and make lots of friends.”

When she pulls away there’s a determination on her face, and she nods fiercely.

Ms Hart extends her hand to Isla, and the girl takes it. With one last glance back at you and her dads she follows through the gates, disappearing from view around a corner.

Eddie sniffles beside you.

“Are you crying?” Steve teases.

“Shut up.” Eddie bites back, wiping his eyes.

“Aww Eds, it’s okay.” You coo, slipping you arm around his waist.

“I know.” He says. “She’s just growing up so fast, I feel like we’ll be waving her off at college before you know it.”

“We’ve got a while until then, thankfully.” Steve laughs.

Eddie points a finger at Ben in his carrier.

“You better stay a baby forever young man.”

Ben giggles as if he understands. Steve shifts his carrier further up his arm, glancing at his watch in the process.

“Come on, I need to drop you all back home so I can get to work.”

————————————————————————

With Steve out and Eddie tucked away in his studio, you focus your attention on Ben. He sits beside you on the couch, propped up against the cushions, looking intensely at the cardboard book in your hands.

“Cat.” You say brightly, pointing to the colourful illustration. “Can you say cat?”

Ben gurgles, clapping his hands together.

“C-c-c.” You sound out, laughing as his little brows furrow in concentration, trying to repeat the sound back to you.

You flip the page to a drawing of a man and a woman labelled ‘Daddy & Mommy’.

“Dada. Can you say Dada?”

“Dadadada.” Ben laughs, drool spilling down his chin.

“Good boy!” You cheer, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek.

You hesitantly glance back down at the page.

It couldn’t hurt, right?

“Mama.” you whisper, pointing to the lady in the book.

“Mmmm.” He hums.

“Mama.” You repeat.

The baby blinks up at you, confused. With the book discarded you point a finger at your chest.

“What’s my name? Who am I?”

Ben squeaks out a high pitched laugh, babbling an attempt at your name.

The disappointment mixes with pride, it was too much really to expect him to call you Mama when your name is all he’s known before now. You try not to feel too upset, instead focusing on the joy of Ben repeating your name over and over.

“Clever boy.” You coo, scooping him up into a hug.

A little over an hour later he’s asleep, tucked into his cot, his tiny fingers grasped around the paw of his favourite bear. You slip out of his room and back downstairs, scooping up the baby monitor and fiddling with the settings, until you can see him clearly flat on his back, his soft breaths picked up by the microphone.

The house feels unnaturally quiet. Still. Sure, there’s plenty you could be getting on with, the dishes from breakfast still waiting in the kitchen sink, a pile of clean laundry that needs to be ironed and put away, the living room carpet could do with a good vacuum. You lack the motivation to do any of it, without your curly haired shadow following you through the house, asking random questions, cracking silly jokes that don’t make sense, whining until you give up on your task and pick her up.

The loneliness gets the better of you, and you fill two cups of coffee, carrying them through to Eddie’s studio, the baby monitor tucked under your arm. At the door you press down on the handle with your elbow, careful not to let the hot liquid slosh over the rim of the mugs.

Eddie sits at his desk with his back to you, headphones smushing down his wild hair. The screen of his laptop glows and illuminates his face.

He’s on a call, the face of some guy you don’t recognise filling the open tab on his screen. You creep up behind him, careful to stay out of the view of the webcam, and leaning forwards you put the cups down side by side next to him.

Eddie jumps slightly as you enter his peripheral vision, looking up at you with a wide grin.

“Uh yeah, sorry man just give me a sec.” He says to the screen, pulling his headphones down to rest around his neck.

“You okay baby?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You whisper back.

“I’ll only be another couple of minutes.” He says quietly, and you nod for him to continue. You put the monitor down beside your cup, and walk quietly across the room to grab the spare chair, wheeling it across to his desk, still out of sight of the man he’s talking to.

“I get what you’re saying, but if we push things back much further the label’s gonna lose their shit.”

Leaning back in to the soft padding of the chair you take a moment to study the man next to you. The sharp angle of his jaw, covered with a fine layer of dark stubble, the occasional silver hair winking at you like stars amongst the black. His dark eyes shine in the light from the screen, thick lashes kissing his skin with every slow blink. He reaches up a hand to brush a loose curl from his eyes, thick calloused fingers wrapped in heavy silver. You gulp at the veins and tendons moving under his skin, the leather bracelet you’d gifted him shifting on his wrist, leading down to toned forearms, black ink swirled across alabaster.

A familiar ache begins, a heat in your core that Eddie manages to ignite with the smallest movement. A tilt of his head, a wink across a crowded room, the brush of his knuckles against your cheek. That’s all it takes to have you desperate. Needy.

A quick glance at the baby monitor confirms that Ben is still asleep. Your eyes flit to Eddie. He’s still focused on his call, looking at the man on his screen. You move slowly, letting your body slide down in the chair.

Eddie doesn’t notice until you’re most of the way under the desk, just your head still poking out and your hands gripping the wood to steady yourself. He gives you a confused look, and you wave him away dismissively, encouraging him to look back at his laptop.

“S-sorry man, what did you say?”

Now fully under the desk you crawl until you’re face to face with Eddie’s legs, spread wide in his chair. You lean forwards, pressing a kiss to the skin exposed through the slash in the fabric at his knee. His leg jumps, and he shifts in the chair, his voice raising an octave when he speaks.

“H-how long do you think that’ll take?”

Feeling bolder, your hands smooth up the rough denim covering his thighs, nails sinking in at the top and dragging back down slowly. The zipper of his jeans is straining now, the fabric pulled taught over the growing bulge between his legs. You repeat your motion a few times, and Eddie relaxes, probably assuming you’ll just tease him until he finishes his call. You grin to yourself, sliding your hands back up, but not stopping until they brush over his erection. His body jolts, and you can see his eyes drop momentarily, round and pleading. You’re not sure if he’s begging for you to stop or continue, but the latter is the only thing on your mind.

Removing his belt is more of a challenge than usual, given that you’re trying your best to remain silent. You slide the leather through the loops, but his buckle provides more of a challenge, metal clinking on metal when you move it. Eddie coughs to cover the sound, his hips raising slightly to aid in your task. With the pesky item finally undone you reach for his zipper, and he coughs once again as the metal teeth peel away from each other.

“Well I get that they’re on a different schedule, but if they really want him to provide guest vocals I need him to hu- shit!” Eddie chokes on his words when you pull him free from his boxers, giving a few languid strokes to his now fully hard cock.

“Ah no man I’m fine, just uh, remembered I have to um… go pick up dry cleaning soon, so we’ll need to wrap this up in a minute.”

You stifle a laugh and Eddie cringes.

Your lips seal around the warm head of his cock, the flushed skin already wet with precum. You suppress a moan at his taste, swirling your tongue around the tip, flicking across the slit.

Eddie bites down on his lip, nodding hurriedly as blush creeps up his neck.

“Yep. Yeah, g-got it. Well just tell them to get the vocals over to me asap, because I uh.. I can’t really do anything until.. y-you know until I’ve got them.”

Relaxing your throat you sink your head lower until your nose is nestled against the curls at Eddie’s base.

“Okay. You t-too man. See ya.” He stammers out, clicking furiously on the laptop and wrenching his headphones off.

“Jesus fucking Christ sweetheart.” He groans, a large hand instantly finding purchase on the back of your head. You moan as he tugs on your hair, keeping you pressed against him. His cock flexes in your throat.

He lets you pull back, your lips leaving him with a lewd pop, a string of salvia keeping you connected to his length.

“Dry cleaning huh?” You tease.

“Shut up. Not my fault my brain stopped functioning. You trying to get me in trouble sweetheart?”

“Maybe.”

You take him back in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down in a fast rhythm, desperate to see him unravel for you. You reach up to put your hands over his, encouraging him to hold your hair harder.

“Want you to fuck my mouth Ed. Please.” You whine, giving him your best pleading eyes. You swear you can see his pupils blow in real time at your request.

“Yeah baby?,” he breathes, “you gonna let me use that pretty mouth of yours?”

You nod, shuffling into a better position. Eddie takes himself in his fist, tapping the head of his cock on your bottom lip.

“Open up sweetheart.”

Obeying, you let you jaw hang slack, tongue laying out ready for him. Eddie guides his cock back into your mouth, sliding over your wet muscle, and he groans when you close your lips around him once again. With his hands back in your hair he begins his harsh thrusts, the end of him hitting the back of your throat with each movement. You do your best to suppress your gags, breathing through your nose, but when you do choke a little the tightening of your throat has Eddie’s head falling back, loud moans filling the room, so you stop trying to fight it. He’s brutal in the way he thrusts into you, but his care for you never wavers, occasionally pulling out to let you catch your breath, showering you in sweet praises that only serve to add to the tears spilling down your cheeks. You reach up to cup his heavy balls, rolling them in your palm and humming when you feel the velvety skin drawing tighter ahead of his release.

“Shit, shit!” Eddie whimpers. He plants his feet onto the floor and pushes back so his chair rolls away from the desk. You whine when his cock is pulled from your reach.

“Get up here.” He orders.

He chuckles as you scramble out from under the desk, pins and needles settling into your legs that leave you trembling like a baby deer.

Eddie grips your hips, guiding you down to straddle his lap, and his lips smash against yours in a messy kiss. He sucks on your tongue, distracting you while his hands flip up your skirt, and a finger hooks under your panties. He breaks the kiss to look down as he pulls the garment aside.

“Fuck baby, look at her. She’s so wet and needy for me isn’t she?” He purrs.

You nod, grinding yourself down on him.

“Please Eddie. Please touch me.”

Despite having just begged for it, you still gasp when two thick fingers breach you entrance, curling to press against your g-spot.

Eddie holds your neck with his free hand, guiding your lips back to his.

“Always so fucking tight,” he hisses through gritted teeth. “Got to get you all stretched out sweet girl.”

The thin tattered cotton of his shirt is gripped between your fingers, and you tug so hard he’ll be lucky to make it out without a few extra holes in it. Each press of his fingers has you mewling, your head tipped back to expose your throat, which Eddie latches onto eagerly. Your walls flutter around his digits, arousal seeping down to coat his palm and wrist, causing an almost embarrassingly loud squelch. Eddie pulls you higher and higher, until the air is too thin for you to breath, chest heaving and swallowing nothing. Then his hand retreats.

It’s his favourite trick, taking you right to the edge, then pulling you back cruelly. You cry out in frustration, scowling at him with furious eyes, and he just laughs, loving when you pout at him, all pent up with no release. Not unless he says so.

“Something wrong pretty girl?” He mocks, his eyes round and innocent, his grin wicked.

“So mean.” You huff. You shift your weight until his length brushes against your slick folds, and Eddie moans, the smug grin wiped from his face.

“Nah I’m not mean baby. I’ve got you.”

Eddie’s hands pull you up roughly, guiding you forwards so he can angle himself beneath you. You both let out sighs of relief when you sink down onto him, his thick length filling you perfectly. He presses against your soft inner walls, each ridge and vein of his cock teasing sensitive flesh.

The chair groans beneath you when you begin to ride him, your hands still holding his shoulders for leverage while you bounce up and down on his lap.

“Fucking hell sweetheart. Always so good for me.” He groans, his teeth nipping at the sensitive skin of your neck. Your release begins to build again. You’re edging closer once more, but your movements alone aren’t enough to get you there.

You say his name in a broken whimper, and Eddie knows just what you need, his hips thrusting to meet yours, the head of his cock punching against your sweet spot. You’re climbing higher again, toes curling, eyes screwed shut. With one more harsh thrust stars burst behind your lids, and you’re thrown over the edge, falling falling falling.

You’re really falling.

A creak, followed by a sharp snap of plastic, and the chair tips back, the seat detaching from the legs and wheels underneath.

Eddie’s reaction is swift, his hand instinctively grabbing the top of your head to cushion any impact as you both hurtle backwards to the floor. He lets out a pained “ooft!” when his back collides with the carpet, still cradling you to him.

“Fuck! Baby are you okay?” He gasps, voice flooded with panic.

All you can do is moan, your body still spasming from the aftershocks of your orgasm.

Eddie rolls you over to your back, his cock slipping from you in the process and you whine at the loss.

“Y/N, I just want to check you’re not hurt.”

“M’fine.” You grumble, reaching out to him with grabby hands. “Don’t stop.”

The boy laughs, his body falling back over yours. He guides himself back to your entrance, sheathing himself inside you with a smooth roll of his hips.

“A-are you okay?” You stammer between thrusts.

“I’m fine baby.” He grins. “Can’t say the same for my chair.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You can break all the furniture in this house if I get you have you like this.” He groans.

The carpet scratches against the back of your arms, each punch of Eddie’s cock shifting you across the floor, until his hands find your hips and pull you back to him, pressing himself impossibly deep into you.

“Fuck!” You cry out.

“Yeah? That’s the spot baby?” Eddie pants, rutting into you furiously.

You nod, blinking back tears. Eddie’s lips seal over yours, hot breaths mingling, moans being shared and swallowed.

“Want you to cum.” You plead, biting his bottom lip between you teeth and pulling the soft flesh.

“You gotta cum with me angel. Want you to cream all over my cock again.” He orders. A calloused thumb presses down on your swollen bundle of nerves, and your body vibrates with another approaching release. It only takes a few quick swipes of his digit against your clit before you’re cumming again, back arching away from the scratchy carpet, Eddie’s name falling from your lips like a prayer.

“That’s it. Good fucking girl.” He growls in your ear, the movement of his hips becoming sloppy, his own high nearly at its peak.

“Please Eddie.”

“You want me to cum?” He pants. “Want me to fill this pretty little pussy up?”

“Uh huh.”

He tilts his head back, dark eyes meeting yours, glinting mischievously.

“Want me to fill you up huh? I know what you want. You- shit! You want me to give you a baby?”

You’re not sure who’s more surprised by your reaction to his words. Your walls clamp tight around Eddie’s cock like a vice, almost making it impossible for him to pull out. He buries himself into you, bruising your cervix while his cock twitches. You cry out in unison when his warmth begins to flood inside you, and Eddie’s babbling against your ear between strained breaths.

“That’s what you want isn’t it? Want me to claim you, get you all pretty and pregnant so everyone knows that you’re mine. Everyone knows you’re s-stuffed full of me.”

Eyes rolled back into your skull you manage a nod, whispering a soft ‘yes’ that almost lost to Eddie’s loud moans.

Almost.

Limbs tangled together, you lay in a crumpled heap on the floor, both breathing heavily. When cramp settles into your legs and you attempt to stretch out Eddie carefully clambers off of you, tucking his softening cock back into his boxers.

“Sorry about the chair.” You grin.

“S’fine.” Eddie laughs, looking over at the broken furniture beside you. You sit up, rearranging you underwear to cover your leaking cunt.

“So,” he whispers, bright eyes twinkling, “you want my babies huh?”

You scoff, shoving him lightly in the chest. He catches your hand, refusing to let you pull away until you meet his eyes. He tilts his head to the side, a brow arching.

“I’m on the pill Eddie. It’s was just dirty talk, that’s all.”

He shrugs, relenting when he senses your discomfort. He brushes your damp hair from your forehead, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“I’m only teasing sweet girl.”

“I know.”

Eddie helps you to your feet, then nudges the broken furniture aside with his foot, wheeling your chair into his previous position at the desk. You scoop up the baby monitor in one hand, your now cold coffee in the other.

“I’ll bring you some lunch in a little while.” You smile, kissing the top of his head when he sits back down.

“Just lunch? Or will I get another surprise blow job?”

“If I told you I’d wouldn’t be a surprise would it?” You tease, giving him a wink as you slip out the door.

————————————————————————

With Ben still sleeping you head into the living room and drop to the couch, now too tired to face any of the chores. You turn on the TV, but it’s just background noise, you’re too distracted by Eddie’s words on repeat in your head.

“You want me to claim you. Get you all pretty and pregnant so everyone knows you’re mine.”

Cheeks burning, you glance around the room, looking for a distraction. But everything here just reminds you of the longing aching in your chest. The picture book beside you, the pile of bright plastic toys at your feet, the black and white photos on the wall of Steve and Eddie cradling a new born Isla. Another of the three of them with a tiny Ben, his features still squished.

You’d always known you’d wanted children. While you’d never had any burning desires for a particular career path, you always knew that one day you’d be a mother. You’d tried not to let yourself think about it much over the last few months, you were too young for one thing, but your relationship with the boys was a little more complicated than you’d ever envisioned in your previous fantasies of marriage and kids. You hadn’t even talked to them about it, you didn’t know if they even wanted more children. And if they did - would they want them with you?

You push the thoughts to the back of your mind. It wasn’t a discussion for right now, it could wait. Unfortunately you didn’t realise that Eddie had other ideas.

————————————————————————

“Ed stand still. You’re making me nervous.” You tease, digging you elbow into the ribs of the man jostling beside you.

“I can’t help it.” He whines. “What if she’s had a bad day and doesn’t want to go back? What if someone picked on her? What if-“

“What if-“ you interrupt, “she had an amazing day and made loads of friends?”

Eddie glances sideways at you, letting out a deep exhale.

“You’re right. I’m sure she was fine.”

Right on queue, you spy a bouncing mop of dark curls amongst the sea of children making their way out to their parents. Isla’s hair is falling loose from the topknot you’d twisted it into this morning, her t-shirt half untucked from her skirt, backpack dragging behind her, only held on by one strap over her small shoulders. She looks a mess, but thankfully she’s grinning from ear to ear.

“Hi princess!” You call out, crouching down with open arms for her to run into.

“Did you have a good day?”

Isla tips her head back, chin resting on your chest.

“It was so much fun! We played outside and made mud pies, and then we painted pictures, and then we did dress up, and then we had a story about a princess who peed her bed!”

“She peed her bed?” Eddie asks, his nose wrinkling.

The little girl nods eagerly as she steps back from your hold, extending her arms in a request to be picked up by her father.

“Yeah daddy! She peed her bed and then they put lots of mattresses on the bed but she kept peeing!”

“Do you mean ‘the princess and the pea’?” You giggle.

“Yeah!”

Eddie let’s out a booming laugh.

“She didn’t pee the bed Isla, there was a pea in her bed. Like the vegetable.”

“No!,” she scowls, “she peed. I listened to the story daddy.”

You catch a wave in the corner of your eye, looking up to see Ms Hart approaching.

“Hi guys! Isla’s had such a busy day!”

“We’ve just heard all about it,” Eddie chuckles, “she was just telling us about the princess and the pea.”

“Ah, yes. You enjoyed that didn’t you Isla? She seemed to find it hilarious.” Ms Hart comments, oblivious to the fact that Isla had completely misunderstood the story.

“Did she get on okay?” You ask quietly, while Isla continues to babble at Eddie about story time.

“She did. She was a delight all day, and she’s made lots of friends already.”

You breath a sigh of relief, and Ms Hart gives you a small smile.

“Well Isla it was lovely to have you with us today! I’ll see you in a couple of days okay?”

“I’m not coming tomorrow?” Isla asks with a frown.

“No baby, remember. You’re going to come here three days a week, just to start with.” Eddie says.

“But I want to come every day.” She whines.

“Oh I see. I’ll have to go to the park with just Ben tomorrow!” You say.

The little girls eyes widen, and she shakes her head, the last few tendrils of hair falling free from her scrunchie.

“No! I want to go to the park!”

You pull the girl out of Eddie’s arms, holding her tight to your chest.

“Okay. If you’re a good girl tonight and have a bath, I’ll take you to the park tomorrow. Say bye to Ms Hart honey.”

“Goodbye.” She says with a small wave.

“And what else do you say?” You whisper in her ear.

“Thank you!”

Ms Hart beams.

“You’re very welcome Isla! Have fun at the park tomorrow!”

She waves you all off, before turning to another parent who’s been trying to get her attention.

You clip Isla into her car seat, her mouth still moving at a mile a minute as she recounts every detail of her day.

She talks non stop for the first five minutes of the journey home, until a sudden silence falls over the car. When you glance in the rear view mirror you giggle, seeing her head lolled to the side, eyes closed and jaw hanging slack. Sound asleep.

“Bless her, she’s exhausted.” You say softly.

“I’m exhausted just listening to her!”

“Eddie!” You hiss, smacking him lightly on the arm.

He laughs, glancing in the mirror to look at her.

“Nah, I’m just kidding. I’m really relieved she had fun.”

“Me too. Although she had me worried there for a moment when she said she wanted to go every day.”

“Why’s that? You feeling a little jealous sweet girl?”

“Maybe.” You grumble, fiddling with the strap across your chest.

“You’ll always be her favourite babe. After me of course.”

“I don’t know Ed, she hugged me first when we picked her up.”

“Only because you grabbed her before I could get a look in!”

“I did not!” You protest.

“Shhh. You’ll wake the princess.”

————————————————————————

Eddie carries Isla into the house, and you let her take a quick nap on the couch. She rises when she hears Steve’s voice, finally home from work, and jumps to her feet, stumbling still half asleep when she runs through to the kitchen.

“Dada!”

“Hey sweetheart!” Steve smiles, picking Isla up and spinning her until she giggles and shrieks for him to stop.

“Did you have fun today?”

“Yes!” She says, eagerly recounting her day once again. When she finally pauses for breath Steve places her back on her feet.

“Can I watch Bluey?” She asks, looking up at you.

“Of course baby. Go put it on and I’ll come watch it with you in a minute.”

You watch her skip out of the room, and feel an arm loop around your waist. Steve pulls your back flush to his chest, peppering kisses up the side of your neck.

“Did you have a good day too honey?” He murmurs.

“We had a very good day.” Eddie grins, leaning back against the kitchen counter, crossing one ankle over the other.

“Oh really?” Steve smirks, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

“Yeah. I learnt a few new things about our girl Stevie.”

You tense, feeling heat creep up your neck, your face warming with embarrassment.

“Like what?”

“It’s nothing.” You say, pulling out of his arms and shooting Eddie a glare.

Steve gives him a confused look, and Eddie waits until your back is turned to mouth “I’ll tell you later” with a wink.

—��——————————————————————

Steam spills from the shower, rushing through the gap created when you slide the glass door across, slowly rising and dissipating in the room. Wrapping a fluffy towel around your dripping figure and bringing the corner up to your head, you squeeze the excess water from your hair, then begin rubbing roughly at your body, attempting to soak up as much of the moisture as possible before the damp on your skin cools. With your body throughly dried you hang the towel back up and make your way to the cupboard under the sink, pulling out a bottle of lotion and squirting a generous dollop onto your palm. Foot rested on the lid of the toilet you smooth the thick cream over your leg, massaging it into the freshly shaved skin. You repeat the process on the other limb, and then the rest of your body, until your skin shines beneath the light of the bathroom, the sweet scent of cocoa butter wafting with your every move.

Opening the door to the bedroom and walking over to the closet, you earn a low whistle from Eddie.

“Stop it.” You grin, rifling through a drawer for your underwear.

“Nuh uh baby, don’t need any of that.” Eddie says, having followed behind you. He pulls on your hands, guiding you to the bed and pushing you back on the mattress beside Steve.

“Hey honey.” Steve murmurs, hooking his hands under your arms to pull you up the bed. He adjusts his position, letting your cheek rest against his firm thigh.

“Hey Stevie.” You whisper back, tearing your eyes away from his cock barely an inch away from your face to look up at him. His honeyed gaze is soft, lips kicking up into a sweet smile.

“D’you have a nice shower?”

You hum in affirmation, lashes fluttering up at the boy as he swipes his thumb over your bottom lip. You let them part, and Steve grins cockily, pressing the digit into your mouth, flat against your tongue. Meanwhile large hands squeeze your thighs, parting your legs and putting your glistening cunt on display.

Eddie loves to tease you. Chaste kisses starting at you ankles, inching higher at a snails pace. Sucking hickeys into the plush flesh of your thighs and laving his tongue across the bruises. Hovering his mouth over your core, his breath hot against your folds, making you whine and beg to the point of tears until he finally gives in.

Tonight he changes tactic. He dives straight in, burying his face between your legs, his skilled tongue swirling to collect your arousal and spread it.

“F-fuck!” You whine, voice muffled by Steve’s thumb still pressed to your tongue.

Eddie’s blunt nails dig into your thighs, pushing back when they fight to snap shut, pinning you in place.

“Been dreaming about returning the favour all day baby.” He groans.

His tongue flicks up, catching on your sensitive bud, an action that has you mewling, so he repeats it over and over and over. Broken moans tumble from your lips, and you tilt your head back to look at Steve. His eyes are locked on Eddie lapping greedily at your cunt, his fist slowly stroking his cock. He twists his wrist when he reaches the head, smearing precum on his fingers and sliding it back down his length. He must feel your eyes on him, because he looks away from Eddie for a moment, his blown pupils dancing across your face.

“Keep sucking honey.” He says, stern but still gentle. You do as you’re told, eagerly closing your lips around his thumb, swiping your tongue across the rough pad.

“Good girl.”

Eddie pulls back momentarily, letting a glob of spit fall from his lips, landing on your throbbing clit. He grins devilishly at the high pitched whine it pulls from you, and goes straight back in for more, the lewd slurping and squelching from the added wetness making your cheeks prickle hot with embarrassment.

Your breath is reduced to shallow pants, toes curling and spine arching as the heat in your belly builds, the tense coil within you ready to snap. With one last suckle at your clit Eddie breaks away, laughing cruelly when you yelp in frustration, legs kicking furiously against the sheets.

“Oh, someone’s a little feisty tonight.” He mocks, mimicking your angry pout.

“You’re so mean!” You whine for the second time today.

“I told you before baby, I’m not mean. I always gives you what you want don’t I?”

You huff, rolling your eyes.

“You’re so cute when you’re angry.” He chuckles, reaching up to boop the tip of your nose.

“C’mon Harrington. You’re up.”

The bed creaks from their shuffling, rearranging themselves until your head now rests in Eddie’s lap and Steve is positioning himself between your legs.

His fingers dance lightly through your folds, moving down to circle your entrance. Before he can sink them in you reach down to grab his wrist.

“What’s wrong?” His brows knit in concern, dark eyes staring intensely into your own.

“Don’t wanna wait anymore. Want your cock Steve.” you beg.

“You think you’re ready for me honey?” He says softly.

“Mhmm. I’m ready, I can take it.”

Steve nods, gripping himself at the base and lining up. He nudges in slowly, knowing that the stretch would be more intense without his fingers working you open first.

“M-more.” You gasp. “Please, need more.”

Steve responds with a harder press of his hips, your tight walls stretching to welcome him in, until he’s buried to the hilt, his heavy balls pressing against your ass cheeks.

“Fuck. You feel so good.” He moans, veins in his neck threatening to burst through his skin.

You wiggle your hips, encouraging him to move.

He builds up to a quick pace, bracing his body weight on his hands clenching the bed sheets, rutting into you so hard if it weren’t for Eddie holding you tight against his lap you’d be shunted up the bed.

“See baby?” Eddie coos in your ear, voice sweet like honey, but you can hear the cocky smirk he’s wearing. “I always give you what you want. Why don’t you tell Stevie what it is you want?”

You’re too fucked out to know what he’s talking about. Lost in the delicious drag of Steve’s cock against your walls, the wiry curls at his base brushing teasingly over your clit. Your head lolls back against Eddie’s thigh, and you blink up at him.

“What we talked about earlier sweet girl. Where do you want Stevie to cum?”

“I-inside.” You stammer between moans, still not understanding what he’s getting at.

“And why do you want Stevie to cum inside?”

The realisation hits you. If it weren’t for Steve bullying your cunt with his relentless thrusts you’d give Eddie the most vicious look you could muster, but a particularly harsh snap of Steve’s hips has your vision growing hazy, your mouth hanging open in a silent scream.

“Is it because you want his babies? You want Stevie to stuff you full too huh? You want to make Steve a daddy again?”

“W-what the - oh fuck! Fuckfuckfuck.”

Warmth floods inside you. You have a second to catch Eddie’s shocked expression before Steve’s body collapses down on you, his breathing ragged.

“Steve, did you just-“

“Shut up Ed.” Steve groans, burying his face into your neck.

“Stevie?” You squeak, trying to push him up to get a look at his face.

“Are you okay?”

“No!”

“What’s wrong?”

“M’embrassed.”

“Why?”

“Because-“ Steve sighs, pushing up from your body. His still twitching cock slips from between your legs, and he keeps his eyes locked on where his seed spills out from you, not daring to look at your face. His cheeks are bright pink, the colour spreading down his neck and up to the tips of his ears.

“Because you didn’t cum. And that’s like my golden rule - you always cum first.”

“What happened big boy?” Eddie grins.

“You happened!” Steve snaps, stabbing his finger into Eddie’s chest.

“You were saying all that shit, and I just couldn’t help it!”

Eddie laughs, a deep sound that comes straight from his belly.

“Eddie! Stop it.” You hiss.

“I’m sorry.” He wheezes, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “It’s just funny, that’s all. I mean I had a feeling you’d like that Steve, but just not that much.”

“Yeah yeah, laugh it up.”

Steve turns his attention to you, smoothing his hands over your thighs.

“M’sorry honey.” He pouts.

“Don’t be. Come here.”

Steve finally smiles, eagerly clambering back up the bed to reach you, capturing your lips in a slow, tender kiss.

Your body jolts when you feel two thick fingers sweep from your ass cheeks up to your entrance, pushing in slowly.

“W-what are you doing?” You gasp, craning your neck to look down at Eddie.

“Gotta make sure you keep all this in baby.” He murmurs. When he slowly drags his fingers back out of your cunt he curls them, catching on your frontal wall on the way out. You moan loudly, your previously denied orgasm leaving you sensitive.

“Do you want to cum now?” He asks.

“Please.”

“Okay. Be a good girl for me first and clean these up, yeah?”

His glistening fingers press against your lips until they part and let him in. You suck on them eagerly, swallowing down the mix of Steve’s cum and your arousal, until Eddie finally pulls his hand free with a pop.

He grips your hips, pulling you down to him as his cock slides in, his head slamming against the end of you. It punches a moan from your chest, and he gives you no time to adjust, matching Steve’s previous speed immediately.

“Oh shit. Eddie, that’s so good.” You whine, grabbing at his forearms and sinking your nails into his skin.

“Yeah? This what you wanted baby? You want me and Steve to take turns filling you up?”

“Yes, please! I want it.”

Eddie’s hands wander, bruising your hips, squeezing the soft flesh of your sides, reaching up to cup your breasts that rock in time with his movements. He rolls the hardened buds of your nipples between his fingers, pinching just a little mean, the way you like.

“You gotta cum for me baby.” He spits through gritted teeth. “Cum for me and I’ll fuck you so full you’ll be leaking for days.”

His filthy words have you spasming, the heat that had built before engulfing you. Your pussy gushes around his him, and just seconds later Eddie loses it, spilling into you with a loud cry of your name.

He pushes through the sensitivity, rocking into you to until his cock softens, and he finally slips out, a mess of combined releases flooding onto the sheets.

Eddie flops onto his back beside you. The three of you lay looking up at the ceiling, you and Eddie catching your breath, Steve completely silent.

After a few moments, he clears his throat.

“Did you mean that?”

“Mean what?” You ask, rolling onto your side.

“Do you want to have a baby with me? With us, I mean?”

The mattress creaks behind you, Eddie rolling onto his side. He lays a hand on your waist, massaging your skin gently. Steve won’t look at you, his eyes fixed on the ceiling above him.

“Yes.” You whisper.

Eddie’s hand squeezes your waist a little harder, his lips brushing against your shoulder blade.

A wide smile breaks out across Steve’s face. He turns his head to you, hazel eyes wet and glassy.

“Really?” He breathes.

“Really. I mean, it’s not a good time now, right? I’m still so young, and we haven’t been together that long. Plus Ben’s still a baby, so that would be difficult to cope with two little ones.”

“Seems like you’ve given this a lot of thought baby.” Eddie murmurs.

“Well I - kind of, yeah. Because I do want to have a baby with you, eventually.” You admit. “If that’s what you want.”

“Yeah. I want that.” Steve smiles.

“Steve actually always wanted six mini Munson-Harrington’s running around.” Eddie grins.

“Six?!”

“Alright Ed, don’t scare her off, Jesus.”

Eddie laughs, flipping you onto your back and pressing kisses to your neck.

“I can just picture it.” He mumbles against your skin, his hand sliding down to rub over your stomach.

“You’d look so pretty, your belly all round. And these-“ he grabs at your breasts, squeezing them together, “would be huge, bouncing around all the time.”

You giggle, turning your head away from his onslaught of wet kisses, your eyes widening in surprise.

“Steve! You’re hard again already?”

“It’s him!” He groans, shoving Eddie’s shoulder.

“He won’t shut up about all my favourite fantasies!”

Eddie’s lips brush against your ear.

“What do you think sweetheart? You ready for another round of practicing?”

————————————————————————

A few weeks had passed since the baby conversation, and it had been left alone for the most part.

The only exception is Eddie occasionally riling you and Steve up, using it as his secret weapon when he wants to distract you from whatever you’re doing.

“Gonna pump you so full tonight baby. Get you all messy and dripping.” He murmurs in your ear, the bowl you’re washing dropping into the soapy water with a plop, your thighs squeezing together and your breath catching in your throat. He chuckles lowly, enjoying every second of seeing you so flustered, leaving with a firm squeeze of your ass as a parting gift.

You’d made him pay for it that night, using a couple of Steve’s ties to knot his wrists to the bedposts, riding him until he was on the edge, then halting your movements and sliding off his lap. He’d been forced to watch Steve bend you over the end of the bed, his arms straining against his restraints and mouth babbling desperate pleas, wanting his turn. You’d only given in when he seemed on the verge of tears, sinking back down onto him, Steve’s load dripping out, soaking down to his balls.

After a while the teasing stops, the conversation dropped, at least for now. You wonder if it still lingers constantly in the back of the boys minds like it does yours.

But it appears that something else is occupying Steve’s head.

The changes start off small. Smiles that don’t quite meet his eyes, grumbles here and there about minor inconveniences that usually wouldn’t faze him. A couple of nights he heads up to bed alone, complaining that he’s tired and wants an early night. When you and Eddie head upstairs a few hours later Steve is still, rolled over on his side. You’re not entirely convinced that he’s asleep, but when you press a quick kiss to his cheek he doesn’t respond. You try to ignore how it stings.

His mood continues to sour. He refuses to admit that something’s wrong, won’t let you in on what’s bothering him. He snaps at Eddie regularly, and you’re surprised when the older man refuses to bite back. He’s usually keen to have the last word in an argument, but now he just sighs, leaving Steve alone to stew in his own juices.

On a drizzly Sunday afternoon you’re walking on eggshells. Steve’s been scowling all day, massaging the pinched muscles of his forehead. You slide him a couple of Tylenol and a glass of water for his headache, and he takes them without thanking you. You and Eddie do your best to keep the kids entertained, but Isla’s overflowing with energy that she’d have usually run off at the park. Despite your pleas to stop, she skips around the living room, crashing against the furniture as her shrill giggles shoot straight through Steve, making him jolt.

On her third trip around the room she misjudges the swinging of her arms. The remainder of Steve’s water is tipped over, creating a small puddle on the carpet.

“For goodness sake Isla will you just sit still!” Steve snaps. His tone is far sharper than necessary.

A heavy silence descends on the room, both yours and Eddie’s jaws hanging slack.

Isla stops dead in her tracks, blinking up at her father in shock. Her pouty bottom lip begins to quiver, tears welling in her eyes. You snatch her up in your arms as she inhales a shuddering breath, eager to get her out of the room before the wailing begins.

“You’re okay, it’s okay.” You say between her sobs, pressing kisses to her wet cheeks as you carry her into the kitchen.

“Dada didn’t mean it. It’s okay baby, I promise.”

Your words offer her little comfort, and she howls against your chest, staining your shirt with snot and tears. Your blood runs hot with a brewing anger. Smoothing your hand over Isla’s soft curls, you hope the action will calm you as much as her. You were worried about Steve, and whatever had him acting this way, but now you were pissed. Pouting and sulking was one thing, biting Eddie’s head off at every opportunity was another, but to make his daughter so distraught was crossing a line.

————————————————————————

The following morning Eddie leaves for another work trip. He kisses you in the doorway until you finally shove him off, laughing and giving an apologetic wave to the Uber driver who’s impatiently tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

“What’s the plan for the day honey?” Steve asks, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind as you close the door.

Thankfully he seemed in a better humour this morning. You’d been worried sick all night about Eddie’s departure, not sure how to navigate Steve’s mood without him. He’d given Isla a grovelling apology the night before, and had waited to go to bed with you and Eddie. But there was still a darkness that loomed over him, a heavy grey cloud that cast you in its shadow, a lingering threat that you might get swept away by the eventual downpour.

“Once we’ve dropped Isla off, I need to do the grocery shopping.” You reply with a forced smile.

“Okay. Well if you go get the princess ready, I’ll sort Ben out.” Steve murmurs. He presses a kiss to your temple before heading upstairs.

With Isla at preschool, you make the short drive across town to the supermarket. Ben is plopped into the small plastic seat in the cart, and you and Steve begin to make your way around the store. You start with fresh produce, loading up on fruit and vegetables that you’ll have to fight to get Isla (and Eddie) to eat.

Steve’s clearly making an effort, which you appreciate. He’d held your hand for the duration of the drive to the store. He offers no complaint when you spend an eternity gently squeezing avocados before making your selection. When a man too busy looking at his phone to pay attention to where he’s going crashes into the end of your cart, Steve’s jaw twitches, but he forces a smile and mumbles a ‘no worries’ to the guys apology.

In the cereal aisle you place a box of Honeycombs in the cart, ticking it off the list on the notes app on your phone.

“What’s next babe?” Steve asks.

You open your mouth to reply but you’re interrupted by a woman’s voice behind you.

“Steven?”

You and Steve turn to see an older woman stood in front of the Cheerios. She’s impeccably dressed in designer clothes, a bright diamond resting against the papery skin of her chest hanging from a thin gold chain. Her chestnut hair is perfectly curled, but a few streaks of silver at the roots indicate she’s due for a freshen up on her dye job. Her painted lips are pressed in a tight line as her eyes scan over you and Steve.

Steve’s hand finds yours and he squeezes you tight.

“Mom.” He replies, his voice low.

So this is Steve’s mother? You can see it now as your study her face a little closer, the same full lips, although hers are lined with age. Her hazel eyes match Steve’s colour, but they lack his warmth and bright shine. You suppose she was pretty once, a hint of Steve’s strong features on her face, but it’s hard to think of her ever being beautiful when you know what she’s like. She’d been absent from her son’s life for years.

“How are you?” She asks. Her tone would suggest she doesn’t really care, like she’s speaking to a casual acquaintance rather than her own flesh and blood.

“Fine.”

She nods.

“And Edward?” She snarls his name like it’s a dirty word.

“He’s fine too.”

Her gaze drops to where your and Steve’s hands are clasped together, your thumb tracing small circles over his.

“And you are?”

“Y/N.” You reply, meeting her eyes. You put out your free hand to hers to shake, trying to make an effort for Steve’s sake. She doesn’t bother accepting the olive branch you’ve extended.

“Y/N.” She repeats, humming as though your name poses a question.

“How do you know Steven?”

“She’s my partner.” Steve interjects, his voice cold. “She’s mine and Eddie’s partner.”

Mrs Harrington sneers, her nose wrinkling in disgust.

“Steven.” She sighs, shaking her head. Your fingers itch to slap her across her smug face.

“We’re a little busy Mom. It was nice to see you. Say hi to Dad for me.”

Steve pulls you in next to him as he hand rests on the cart, pushing down the aisle away from his mother, who doesn’t say another word as you leave.

“Are you okay?” You whisper as you round the corner of the aisle, hugging Steve’s waist closer.

“M’fine.” He replies curtly.

It’s obvious that he isn’t, his jaw clenched tight and eyes staring vacantly off into the distance. You finish the rest of your shopping in total silence, simple domestic bliss ruined.

As you queue at the check out you see Mrs Harrington making her way out of the store, the canvas tote on her arm clinking, full of bottles of wine. You’re not sure what comes over you, but your feet move before your brain can keep up, and you chase after her into the parking lot.

“Mrs Harrington!”

She stops, her heels clicking on the concrete when she turns to face you.

“How do you do it?”

“How do I do what dear?” She sighs, impatience evident in her tone.

“How do you treat your own son like that? Like he’s a stranger?”

Mrs Harrington’s mask slips for a moment, her delicate brows furrowing before she quickly rearranges her face back into something perfectly pleasant. She gives you a small smile that doesn’t meet her eyes as she takes a step towards you.

“I’m not sure what Steven has told you, but I doubt you have the faintest idea about the reality of my relationship with my son. My husband and I have always made it clear that Steven is welcome in our family, should he choose to lead a more.. acceptable lifestyle.”

“What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

She fixes you with a pointed look.

“You seem like a smart girl. I’m sure you can understand which aspects of Steven’s life we’re not thrilled about.”

You scoff, waving your arms in frustration.

“So what? Because you don’t approve of who he’s fallen in love with you’re happy to cut him off? You don’t care about not seeing your own son? For goodness sake you have two beautiful grandchildren who don’t even know you!”

“One grandchild.” She snaps.

“The girl isn’t Steven’s.”

The girl. She speaks about Isla with such disdain, as though she were an abomination, rather than the most wonderful little girl you’ve ever known. Your blood runs hot, molten metal coursing through your veins. Your teeth grind together in fury.

“She is Steve’s. She’s like him in so many ways - ways that you wouldn’t understand because you hardly know your son at all! Isla is the kindest little girl, and she gets that from Steve. Every time we go to the park she looks around for the kid on their own, the one no one else is playing with, and she befriends them. She can’t stand to see anyone left out or alone. And she’s smart like him.”

You ignore the snort and eye roll from Mrs Harrington, too busy with your rant to care about her opinion.

“She is! She’s smart, and beautiful, and sweet. All of that she gets from Steve. And Eddie. But you’ll never know, you’ll never get to understand just how much you’re missing out on, because you’re too stuck up and stubborn to care!”

Your chest heaves and you can feel the warmth on your skin, your heartbeat pounding in your ears as blood rushes to your face.

“Are you finished?” Mrs Harrington asks, like she’s talking to a child who’s just thrown a tantrum. She seems unfazed by everything that you’ve said. You realise then just how pointless it is. You can’t appeal to a woman like her, there’s no way through to her.

“Yeah. I’m done.”

You spin and stomp back to the store, blinking rapidly to hold back the angry tears that threaten to spill. The last thing you want to do is cry in front of Steve and make him feel like he has to comfort you. Because this isn’t about you.

He’s finished bagging the groceries, you find him waiting by the front doors to the store, anxiously watching your confrontation with his Mother.

“Hey, I’m sorry I didn’t help you much with all of this.” you say gesturing to the cart. You try your best to force a smile, hoping that you’ve hidden the wobble in your voice enough.

Steve doesn’t say a word, just rolls the cart in the direction of the car.

“Steve?” you say softly.

You scramble to keep up with him as he stomps across the parking lot. At the car he pops the trunk, angrily throwing the bags in with his back to you.

“Stevie, please. What’s wrong?” You plea, voice strained from the way anxiety has your throat closing.

He spins suddenly, facing you with a fury in his eyes that makes you shrink, instinctively taking a step back.

“You had no right Y/N. No right at all so do what you just did.” He snaps.

Steve’s never spoken to you like this before. In the time him, Eddie, and you had been together you’d never once argued with them. They’d had their own rows, leaving you as the peacekeeper in the middle, mediating between them until they both gave up on their stubborn desire to be right, grumbling apologies. Their disputes barely ever lasted more than an hour, always over something small and petty, tempers usually just frayed from work stress or Ben keeping you all up at night.

Now on the receiving end of Steve’s foul mood you don’t know what to do, especially without Eddie here to help.

“I - I’m sorry.” You croak.

“Just forget it.” Steve snarls. He slams the lid of the trunk down hard enough that Ben jumps, immediately crying at the sudden bang.

You watch through teary eyes as Steve lifts the baby from the cart, cooing to him softly as he puts him in his car seat. All of the tenderness you’re craving is now reserved only for his son.

Steve gets into the car while you push the cart back to the front of the store, ignoring the concerned look from other shoppers as you choke back sobs. When you return to get into the vehicle, he continues to give you the cold shoulder, not sparing you so much as a glance as he reverses out of the parking space.

————————————————————————

At home you leave him to sort out Ben and the groceries. One more minute of his coldness and you know you’ll lose your composure. You walk quickly into the house, heading straight upstairs to the spare room that used to be yours. Under the soft cotton sheets, with your head resting on the pillows you pull your phone from your pocket, trembling fingers fumbling to swipe to the right contact.

The phone rings three times before Eddie answers. You can hear the busy hum in the background, various conversations around him, and final calls being made over the airports PA.

“Hey baby. You missin’ me already?” Eddie teases.

You whine out his name in response, the tears you’d been fighting to keep back now spilling.

“Baby? What’s wrong?” Eddie asks, but you’re crying too hard to answer him.

“Y/N? Sweetheart please, you’re scaring me.” He pleads.

“H-he’s m-mad at me.” You stammer.

“Who’s mad at you sweet girl?”

“Steve.” You whine.

“Steve’s mad at you? What do you mean honey- what could you possibly have done to-“

“We s-saw his mom at the grocery store. A-and I - I just-“

Eddie sucks in a sharp breath.

“Fuck. It’s okay baby, it’s okay. I’m coming home.”

“No! Eddie no, you can’t!” You protest, crying harder at the thought of him missing out on a job just because you’re upset.

“Don’t argue with me Y/N. I’m coming home. Just give me a sec.” Eddie says firmly. You can hear him muttering under his breath, the wheels of his suitcase rolling across the floor as he walks.

“Okay.” He says a moment later.

“I can get a flight home in about an hour.”

“Eddie please.” You whimper.

“Enough Y/N. I’m coming home. I’m not leaving you upset like this baby, you’re breaking my fucking heart here.” He says softly.

“I’m s-sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’re okay. I’m gonna go get a ticket and then I’m calling you straight back okay? I’ll stay on the phone with you until I have to board.”

“Thank you Eddie.” You whisper.

“You don’t need to thank me. I love you baby.”

“I love you too.”

You stay in your old room for the rest of the day. Steve moves through the house below you, dishes clattering in the kitchen, Sesame Street playing on the TV for Ben. When it gets close to Isla’s pick up time the front door slams, as Steve leaves to go get her. He hasn’t checked on you once.

————————————————————————

“Y/N?” A quiet voice asks, the door squeaking open. You roll over in bed, finding Isla stood hesitantly in the door way.

“Hey princess! How was your day?” You say, the fake smile on your face feeling more like a grimace.

“Why are you in bed?” She asks, ignoring your question.

“I’m not feeling too well sweetie. I just need to rest.”

“Why aren’t you in your bed?” The girl frowns. You have to think on your feet to come up with a lie that will hopefully satisfy her.

“I don’t want to make Dada sick too. So I came in here.” You say.

Isla nods.

“I hope you feel better soon.” She says sweetly. It makes your chest ache.

“I’m sure I will angel. Go spend some time with Dada, I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Okay.”

You blow her a kiss, and thankfully she smiles, returning the gesture before slipping back out of the room.

A while later sleep finds you, your body exhausted from crying, mind tired from rerunning the situation over and over in your head. You only wake when you hear the slam of the front door, and by now the room is shrouded in darkness, no sunlight leaking through the blinds.

Deep voices rumble below you. You can’t catch what’s being said exactly, but it’s clear enough from the tone that the two men are arguing.

A few moments later you hear footsteps padding along the hallway carpet, followed by three gentle taps on the door.

“Baby? You awake?” Eddie calls.

“Yeah.” You call back, pushing to sit up against the headboard.

The door swings open, and Eddie flicks on the light. You squint in the sudden brightness.

“Oh my poor girl.” He murmurs, crossing the room in quick strides. The mattress dips when he takes a seat, pulling you to him until your head is tucked under his chin, cheek resting against his chest. You thought you had no tears left to give, but you were mistaken, sobbing like a child as Eddie rocks you from side to side, pressing kisses to the top of your head.

“It’s okay. I’m here. I’ve got you.” He whispers.

When you’ve finally calmed down a little, Eddie holds your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your face back to get a good look at you. You study him too, finding purple shadows under his eyes, evidence of a long day flying pointlessly back and forth across the country.

“What happened angel?” He says.

You tell him. You tell him everything, about what Steve’s mom had said in the store, about your confrontation with her in the parking lot, about Steve’s anger at your intervention, and the way he’d ignored you ever since. The more you speak, the more Eddie’s frown deepens, the corners of his mouth turning down.

“I’m so sorry baby.”

“S’not your fault.” You reply.

“I know. But, I think it should’ve done a better job of warning you. Steve’s.. he’s touchy, when it comes to his parents.”

“I’ve gathered that.” You grumble sarcastically.

Eddie gives you a sad smile, sweeping his thumb over your tear stained cheeks.

“You remember what I told you before, about Steve’s mom and dad?” Eddie asks.

You nod. He’d not told you much, but it was more than Steve ever did, the other man never mentioning his parents once in the time you’d known him. But Eddie had filled in some of the gaps.

Mr and Mrs Harrington had treated Steve awfully, never showing him an ounce of affection or kindness. They were two people obsessed with image, it was everything to them. Outwardly, they looked like the perfect family: successful husband, beautiful housewife, and their charming, star athlete son. But behind closed doors it was a different story. Mr Harrington was a liar and a cheat, a string of affairs under his belt, his marriage to his wife all for show. Mrs Harrington was a cruel woman, a vicious tongue always ready to hurl insults at her son, especially when she’d had a few drinks, which more often than not, she had. And poor Steve. Left in that huge house for weeks, or even months at a time, always alone. In the time that Steve did spend with his family it was almost never pleasant. He was a perpetual disappointment, unable to meet his parents high standards. It only got worse when he told them about Eddie, after that they’d wanted nothing to do with him.

“Even after all of that, all they’ve done to them, Stevie won’t have a bad word said against them.” Eddie admits sadly.

“Hell, we’ve had plenty of fights about it. If I so much as breathe a word about those assholes he gives me the same treatment you got today.”

“Why?” You whisper.

Eddie sighs.

“I don’t know. I know it kills him that they treat him the way they do. But after everything, I think he still holds out hope that they might change their minds. He still wants to be that perfect son that’s good enough for them. And it always gets worse around his birthday.”

You drop your head to rest on Eddie’s shoulder, thinking back over the last few weeks. Anytime you’d asked Steve what he wanted for his birthday he shrugged off the questioning. Each time you suggested a way to celebrate, he’d grumbled and insisted it was just another ‘normal’ day, which seemed odd considering how much Steve usually loved any excuse for a party.

“Every year it’s the same.” Eddie says.

“He gets all moody and snappy in the run up. Then on his birthday he goes through the cards that arrive in the mail, and I can see him get sadder and sadder with each one that he opens, because none of them are from his parents. He flinches every time the phone rings, or someone knocks on the door, and he gets his hopes up every time. And every time he’s let down.”

“That’s so sad.” You say quietly.

“It is.” Eddie agrees. “But it’s still no excuse Y/N. He shouldn’t have spoken to you the way that he did.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. And he knows that. Do you feel up to talking to him about it?” He asks.

“Is he still mad at me?”

“God no. Truth be told baby, he wasn’t ever really angry at you.”

“Okay. Then yeah, I wanna talk to him.” You say.

“That’s my girl.” Eddie smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Oh and by the way,” he mumbles against your skin, “between you and me? I’m proud of you. S’about time someone told that old hag a few home truths.”

You giggle, and Eddie chuckles too, standing up from the bed and helping you to your feet.

————————————————————————

Steve’s pacing back and forth across the plush bedroom carpet, his hair sticking up in all directions thanks to constantly tugging his fingers through it. He turns as the door opens, bloodshot watery eyes meeting yours.

“Honey, I’m so so sorry.” He says, choking on the words.

You cross the room in an instant, throwing yourself against his chest as his strong arms wrap tight around your shoulders.

The two of you cry together, your tears staining Steve’s shirt as his fall into your hair. A warm weight presses against your back, Eddie sandwiching you between their bodies, his face alternating between pressing kisses to the top of your head and Steve’s wet cheeks.

Steve pulls back, cupping your face in his hands and tilting you to look at him.

“Please forgive me.” He whispers.

“I do. Of course I do. And I’m sorry too.” You whisper.

“You don’t need to be sorry. Y-you didn’t do anything wrong. I should’ve never-“

“Steve, stop. It’s okay.” You reassure, leaning to press a firm kiss to his lips.

“It’s not okay. It’s not. You shouldn’t let me off the hook that easy.” He mumbles, tears still streaming.

“C’mon.” Eddie says softly, moving to take a seat on the bed. He pats the empty space beside him.

“Let’s get it all out.”

Steve crawls up onto the middle of the bed, sitting cross legged on the comforter. You take a seat by the pillows, legs stretched out over Steve’s lap, his thumb tracing gentle circles over your ankle.

He sighs deeply, his shoulders shaking as he exhales.

“You’re okay Stevie. We’re here.” You say.

He nods, giving you a small grateful smile.

“I know I’ve never really spoken about my parents to you.” He starts.

“And I’m sorry for that too. I know I need to get better at.. being open, I guess? It’s just hard to talk about.”

“I know.” You offer.

“It just hurts.” Steve says, whining much like Isla does when her emotions overwhelm her.

“I keep hoping, after all this time. I keep hoping things might be different - they might be different. But it never happens.”

“I’m sorry Steve. You don’t deserve that.” You say sadly.

“They don’t deserve you.” Eddie grumbles.

“I just keep thinking I could be good enough for them somehow.” Steve whispers.

Shuffling down the bed, you pull yourself onto Steve’s lap. You cradle his face in your hands much like he had done to you moments ago.

“Steve, listen to me. You are good enough. You are enough. I’m so sorry that your parents can’t see all the good in you, and I know that nothing will ever take that pain away. But you have so many people who adore you. People who see you for who you are and love you just like that. Our love doesn’t come with conditions. You’ll always have us, no matter what.”

His face crumples, more pained sobs tearing from his chest. You let him bury his face in your neck, holding him tight as he cries, whispering softly in his ear all the things you love about him. All the things that make him perfect.

“I love you. I love you so much.” He cries.

“I love you too honey.” You reply, nuzzling your nose into his soft brown locks.

————————————————————————

A little over a month after Isla joined preschool you received an email from the head office, an invitation to an open afternoon. It’s a chance for the parents to come and take a look around, catch up with the teachers and see what the kids have been getting up to.

Eddie and Steve flank either side of you, the latter carrying Ben strapped to his chest. Eddie is delighted to no longer be missing the event, thanks to his work trip being cut short, and he bounds through the open gates, the chain hanging from his jeans clinking with each energetic step.

“Maybe we should see if they can take in an extra kid, wear him out a bit for us.” Steve laughs.

“We can’t do that to poor Ms Hart. She’d never cope.” You grin.

“Hey! I’ll have you know I was a delight as a preschooler, and I’m even more delightful now.” Eddie says, pointing a ringed finger at you and Steve accusatorially.

“So you were just a nightmare in high school?” Steve teases.

“Shut up. Everyone knows high school sucks.” Eddie grumbles.

He slows down enough to let you both catch up with him, his hand finding yours and squeezing your fingers tight.

Ms Hart’s classroom has descended into chaos, excited children running around the room weaving between the legs of parents, grabbing at finger paintings and lumpy plasticine figures, showing them off proudly.

You spot Isla instantly. She’s sat at a small table in the corner, her legs swinging over the edge of her plastic chair, her sparkly pink sneakers not quite reaching the floor. Her neck is craned, dark eyes sweeping the room, bottom lip being chewed between her teeth.

“Princess!” Eddie bellows, releasing your hand to wave dramatically at his daughter. The brightest smile spreads across her pretty face when she sees you, leaping down from her chair and sprinting across the room into Eddie’s outstretched arms.

“Daddy!” She squeals, giggling shrilly when Eddie swings her up into the air.

“Ed. She’ll throw up if you keep swinging her around like that.” Steve chuckles.

Eddie relents, carefully placing Isla back on her feet.

“Are you here to see my stuff?” She asks breathlessly, wide eyes staring up at the three of you.

“We sure are sweet pea.” Steve smiles, reaching down to ruffle her curls.

You let Isla lead you around the room, babbling constantly as she goes, pointing out her friends, and her favourite toys to play with. It’s clear that you had nothing to worry about in sending her here, she’s popular, other children frequently interrupting her tour to say hi. You, Steve, and Eddie watch on proudly.

Being the big kid that he is, it takes little convincing for Eddie to get down on his knees and crawl into the tiny play house set up at the back of the room. The leg that won’t fit in is stretched out the door, one leather clad arm hanging from the window, his grinning face peering through another. He expertly plays the role of a wicked giant, grunting and growling, pulling delighted giggles from the kids who attempt to tug him from the house, Isla leading the charge swinging an inflatable sword at his shin.

Steve sits at a table nearby, the chair comically small for his large frame, his knees practically up by his ears. Ben gurgles away happily in his holder against his dads chest, while Steve chats to another father, the two men swapping opinions on some recent basketball game. The conversation isn’t particularly enthralling for you, so you wander away, hands held behind your back as you slowly pass a wall of drawings.

The artworks depict the children’s families, abstract, messy paintings of people and pets, some contained within the walls of wonky square houses with triangular roofs. Isla’s handy work is easy to spot, the figures on her page each a different bright shade of felt tip, a rainbow family.

The people look a little like potatoes, uneven circles for bodies, with short straight arms and legs, and large smiley faces in the centre of the ovals. Beneath each person, Ms Hart has written their name, with Isla’s shaky handwriting underneath. You can picture her trying so hard to copy the words, her tongue poking out between her lips, brows furrowed as she grips her pencil in whitened knuckles. The first two figures are the smallest, one green, one pink.

Ben

Isla

The other three are a little bigger, one blue, one red, one orange.

Daddy

Dada

Mommy

You blink rapidly, expecting those five wobbly letters to suddenly disappear, replaced with your name. But they don’t change, the grey granite lines indented into the paper from how hard Isla had pressed with her pencil.

“It’s cute right?” A soft voice says over your shoulder.

You jump, turning to find Ms Hart at your side, smiling at the drawing.

“She’s quite the artist. She draws something every day.”

The young woman looks over to you, expecting a response, but no words come to you. Her smile falters when she sees the tears pooling your eyes.

“What’s wrong?” She whispers, taking a step closer to you. She glances over at Isla, too busy attacking Eddie to notice your crying.

“S’nothing.” You sniff, wiping your sleeve over your cheeks to catch the few tears that spill.

“Are you sure?” Ms Hart presses, her hand coming to rest on your forearm, giving a reassuring squeeze.

“Y-yeah. It’s just - she, she’s doesn’t call me that.” You whisper.

“What do you mean?”

“Isla. She doesn’t call me m-mommy. Just my name.” You explain sadly.

One of Ms Harts brows arches delicately, confusion clear on her face.

“Oh. I - I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You reply with a forced smile.

“You weren’t to know.”

“No, well. You see, that’s what Isla calls you here. She’s always talking about her Dads, and her Mommy. That’s why I wrote that for her to copy. I didn’t realise she usually calls you Y/N.”

“S-she calls me Mommy?” You ask quietly.

Ms Hart nods.

“Oh.”

“Hey honey, whatcha looking at over here?” Steve murmurs, having stepped up behind you.

You and Ms Hart watch as Steve looks over the drawing, realisation dawning on his face.

“Wow.” He breathes.

“Yeah. Wow.” You repeat.

Ms Hart let’s go of your arm, giving you a kind smile as she retreats wordlessly, letting you and Steve have a moment alone. The noise of the room dims around you, the only sound you can hear is the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears.

“Apparently, that’s what she calls me here.” You whisper.

A large hand takes hold of your waist, pulling you in close. As Steve tucks you into his side, Ben grabs at your shirt with his chubby fists, drool tricking from his gummy mouth and shining on his chin.

“Well it makes sense.” Steve murmurs, his lips buried in your hair.

“You’re her Mommy. Ben’s too.”

As though he understands, Ben giggles softly, staring up at your with warm honey eyes. You swallow down the lump in your throat, capturing his little hand in yours and bringing it to your lips so you can press kisses to his squishy knuckles.

Steve lets go of you for a moment, reaching out to carefully peel the paper from the wall, leaving behind small blobs of blu tac.

“Steve! You can’t take that.” You whisper shout.

“I’m sure Ms Hart won’t mind.” He smiles, rolling the drawing into a small cylinder and tucking it into your bag.

“This is special. It deserves pride of place on our fridge.”

————————————————————————

Back at home you take a seat at the kitchen island, watching Steve as he pulls out the pots and pans needed to make carbonara. Balancing Ben on his hip, Eddie reaches into your bag and retrieves Isla’s drawing. He struggles to unfurl it on the fridge door with just one free hand, but eventually manages to secure it in place with a handful of bright alphabet magnets.

“Look at that!” He beams.

“My daughter is an artist!”

Isla preens at the praise, pressing her face against Eddie’s leg as he stands back to admire her work.

“And your writing is so good too! Can you tell me what this says princess?” He asks, pointing to the wobbly lettering under the potato people.

Isla hums a vague sound, burying her face harder into his denim clad knees.

“C’mon.” He encourages softly.

“What’s this say?”

Taking a deep breath, Isla look down at her feet, reciting the words from memory.

“Ben, Isla, Dada, Daddy, and Y/N.” She says quietly.

“Almost. That last one’s not quite right. Look again baby, what have you written here?” He whispers, tracing his fingers over ‘Mommy’.

“Y/N.” Isla repeats, still not looking up.

“Sound it out. It starts with an ‘m’ right? That makes a mmm sound.”

“Ed.” You warn quietly. It was clear that Isla wasn’t about to say it, and you didn’t want her to feel any more uncomfortable than she already was. Steve stops chopping pancetta, crossing the kitchen to crouch at her side.

“It says ‘mommy’, doesn’t it Isla?” He whispers.

“Do you tell your friends at school that Y/N is your mommy?”

“Sometimes.” She says quietly, eyes locked on her toes, curling in her frilly white socks.

“Do you want to call her mommy at home too?” Eddie asks gently.

Isla shrugs her shoulders.

“It’s okay if she does, right honey?” Steve says to you.

You nod, clearing your throat.

“Of course. I-if she wants to.”

Isla’s chin is still tucked down, but you can see a small smile pulling at her lips, her cheeks glowing a rosey shade of pink.

Steve leaves a kiss to the top of her head, pushing up to turn his attention back to the dinner.

“C’mon. Let’s go set the table while Dada cooks.” Eddie offers, extending his hand to his daughter.

“Who do you want to sit next to?” He asks as he leads her out to the dining room.

“Mommy.” She whispers.

Your heart feels like it could burst.

————————————————————————

You wake early on Steve’s birthday, despite the alarms on your phone being switched off. Sunlight filters through the blinds, casting the room in a warm glow, that you bask in as you snuggle closer to the sleeping figure in your right.

“Mmm. Mornin’ honey.” Steve whispers, his voice thick and groggy with sleep.

“Good morning birthday boy.” You smile. You move up to press a kiss to his cheek. The motion has Eddie stirring. He rolls over, arms winding around your waist and chin hooked over your shoulder.

“Happy birthday handsome.” He purrs.

“Thank you.” Steve replies. He rolls over too, sandwiching you between his body and Eddie’s as he kisses his husband sweetly.

“Can you open your presents now?” You ask.

Steve chuckles.

“You’re as bad as Isla at Christmas, I’ve only just woken up angel.”

“Yeah we should wait for this kids. You know the princess will be disappointed if she doesn’t get to help Dada unwrap his gifts.” Eddie grins.

“But I’ve got you something that you need to open before they come in here.” You protest. Wriggling out of their hold, you clamber over Steve to get out of the bed. Eddie sits up, cocking one brow at you. He wasn’t in the loop with this mystery gift.

You head to the dresser, digging through your underwear until you find the small box hidden at the bottom, wrapped in delicate blue tissue paper.

Once you’re settled back between the boys, you pass the gift to Steve. He presses a quick kiss to your temple, thick fingers unwinding the ribbon and sliding under the tape that holds the paper together. A stark contrast to the feral way Eddie had torn through the gift wrap with his own presents some months ago.

With the paper discarded, Steve lifts the lid of the gift box. Nerves swirl in your belly, hoping for a good reaction.

“What - what is this?” He asks. He holds up the blister pack, empty of pills.

“It’s my contraceptive.” You explain.

Steve looks confused.

“Okay.. and they’re empty.”

“Yep.”

“And you’re giving me this because?”

“Because they’ve been empty for two weeks. And I haven’t bothered getting another prescription.”

The room falls to near total silence, the only sound the faint ticking of the alarm clock on Steve’s nightstand. Each second that passes has your heart beating harder in your chest.

“Oh shit.” Eddie whispers.

It takes Steve a few seconds more to catch up. His confused frown melts suddenly, replaced with wide eyes and raised brows.

“Oh shit.” He echos.

He turns to look at you, his pouting bottom lip wobbling.

“Are you serious?” He whispers.

“Yes.” You smile.

“You really want to have a baby with us?”

“Of course I do my love.” You say softly, cupping his stubbly cheek so you can press his pout to your own. Steve kisses you back, sweet and gentle, his tongue brushing over your bottom lip. Not so gentle lips attack your neck from behind, a rough palm wrapping around your throat to pull you to a better angle. Eddie flips you onto your back, settling between your spread legs, already tugging himself free from the confines of his boxers.

“Better do some more practicing huh baby?” He grins.

“Eddie it’s my birthday! Stop trying to hog her to yourself.” Steve whines. He gives Eddie a playful shove, almost toppling him from the mattress. Steve takes his place, rubbing his hands teasingly up over the sensitive skin of your thighs.

“Gonna make you feel so good honey. Love you so much.” Steve murmurs, nuzzling his face against your neck.

“I love you too.” You sigh.

“I love you both.”

“Fuck, I love you both.” Eddie says through gritted teeth. His fist pumps his cock lazily, fingertips teasing the leaking head as he watches your ankles hook over his husbands lower back.

Your hand strokes the thick curls on Steve’s chest, snaking down over the softness of his stomach. His muscles tense beneath your touch, cock twitching in anticipation.

Your hand is so close to where he wants it.

Hurried footsteps pound down the hallway.

The three of you share panicked looks for a split second, before scrambling to cover yourselves and lay back in bed. The boys are desperately pulling up their boxers while you fight to get the comforter up as the door flies open.

“Happy birthday!” Isla bellows at the top of her lungs. She takes a running leap at the bed, landing on Steve chest.

“Ooft! Jesus Christ Isla.” He groans, grinning ear to ear despite the assault.

“It’s your birthday Dada!” She exclaims excitedly.

“I know it is. And you know what that means.”

“Presents!”

You laugh, shuffling up to make space for her to lay in between you and Steve. Eddie gets out of the bed, heading to the closet to retrieve the various gifts hidden in there.

“Okay, we’ll do presents, then I’ll go wake Ben and we can have pancakes in bed.” He says, plonking the gift bags onto Steve’s lap.

“And we’ll finish what we started later.” He whispers lowly in your ear, cackling when his words have you squirming.

After Isla had ‘helped’ Steve to open his presents, Eddie retrieved the baby, and you all sat in bed, eating syrupy pancakes with slices of sweet strawberries. The quiet chatter and sound of munching is disrupted by Steve’s phone ringing, just as you and Eddie had expected.

Robin puts her years of high school drama club experience to good use, babbling away in a panic.

“Rob.” He groaned, dragging his palm over his stubbly jaw.

“I’m having my birthday breakfast.”

“I know! I’m so sorry, but we need you Steve!”

At the sound of Robins voice coming from the speaker of Steve’s phone you glance over at Eddie, who snorts a laugh, hiding it with a loud slurp of his coffee.

“Fine. I’ll be over in like an hour.” Steve grumbles.

“Thank you! You’re the best.”

“Yeah, you better remember that.” Steve grins, hanging up the call.

“What’s up honey?” You ask, pretending to not see Isla’s little hand as it darts out to steal a strawberry from the plate balanced on your lap.

“Apparently Nance had a new desk delivered, and the courier just left it in their hallway. Neither of them can carry it up the stairs, and so I’m pretty sure they won’t be able to assemble it either. Which means I have to spend my birthday doing DIY.”

“Oh, don’t worry Stevie, I’m sure it won’t take long.” You smile, running your fingers through his bed head.

In reality, you knew it might take more than a little while. Nancy and Robin were under strict instructions to keep Steve busy until at least midday, even if it meant deliberately hiding necessary screws and tools from him to make his job that much harder. He was in for a frustrating morning, but it would be worth it. At least you hoped it would.

Thirty minutes later you stand at the front door waving Steve off, waiting until his car has disappeared out of view before slamming the door closed and running back into the kitchen.

“You ready?” You call out.

“Oh I’m ready baby.” Eddie replies.

Your burst into a fit of giggles when you round the corner into the room. Eddie’s hair is pulled up into a loose top knot, a tea towel wrapped around his forehead like a bandana. In the time it had taken you to say goodbye to Steve he must have delved into your make up bag, two thick black streaks of gel liner across his cheeks.

“What’s with the war paint?” You wheeze, clutching at your sides that ache from laughing.

“I’m ready to complete my birthday mission, obviously.” He grins.

“You’re the fiercest party planner around.” You smile.

“I need to be. Got to live up to Stevie’s high standards.”

“And mine. I want everything to be perfect. So you can start by hanging the banners and blowing up the balloons.”

“Yes ma’am.” Eddie says with a salute. As you go to move past him he grabs your waist, pulling you flush to his chest.

“I love it when you’re bossy baby.” He drawls.

“Stop it mister.” You laugh, slapping playfully at his chest.

“Get on with your jobs. We don’t have much time.”

————————————————————————

Looking down at your phone, you watch as the tiny icon of Steve’s photo moves closer on the map, turning onto your street.

“He’s almost here! Everyone get into position!” You shout, hurriedly shoving your phone into your pocket.

Everyone scrambles, Hopper, Joyce, Will and Mike crouching down behind the table covered in food and drinks.

Max and Lucas clamber up Isla’s jungle gym, ducking behind the small wooden ledge at the top.

Your Mom giggles, pulling Wayne by the hand to hide behind the shed, like a couple of naughty school kids sneaking off to share a kiss.

The rest of the guests find their own hiding places, excited chatter dying down to hushed whispers.

The gate at the side of the house creaks, and you gasp, spinning in place. Why on Earth would Steve come through the side gate?

You breathe a sigh of relief when Nancy and Robin come rushing through, tugging Charlie along behind them.

“Jesus, you scared me. Wait - how the hell did you beat Steve here?” You ask.

“Nance drove like a maniac.” Robin grins, her wife rolling her eyes as she drags her to squeeze behind the table with the others.

Before you reply you hear the unmistakable sound of gravel crunching beneath tires.

“Ready baby?” Eddie grins, taking your hand to lead you back into the house.

“I’m so nervous. What if doesn’t like it?” You whisper.

You knew Steve didn’t like to celebrate his birthday, he’d made that abundantly clear. He was happy with breakfast in bed, and a lazy day chilling around the house, or playing with the kids in the garden. But you’d wanted to do something special for him. Show him that he had so many people around him who adored him, who loved him exactly as he was. You wanted to make him love his birthday.

“Oh course he will, everyone loves a surprise party.” Eddie says.

“I don’t know if that’s true Eddie…”

“Well it’s too late now babe.” He laughs.

The pair of you stop in the hallway just in time for the front door to swing open, a disheveled looking Steve stepping over the threshold.

“Hey Stevie.” You say brightly.

“Did you get everything sorted for Robin and Nancy?”

“Yeah, eventually. It was a nightmare. Rob managed to loose the screwdriver three times. Three times!”

“Yeah that sounds like Rob.” Eddie laughs.

Steve pauses, his eyes narrowing.

“Why are you two both just stood in here?” Steve asks.

“Uhh…”

“We heard you pull up!” You reply quickly, before Eddie can fumble and give the game away.

“You heard me?” Steve says suspiciously.

“Y-yeah. We were playing in the garden with the kids.”

“Where are they?”

“Who?” Eddie asks.

“The kids.” Steve says incredulously.

“They’re still in the garden.”

“Alone?! Ed, the pool’s uncovered. Are you nuts?!” Steve exclaims. He barrels past the two of you before you can protest, running through the house, you and Eddie hot on his heels.

When Steve shoves through the glass patio doors, he falters, slowing to a stop as he looks around the garden, decorated in bright bunting and balloons.

“Happy birthday!”

You collective friends and family jump out from their hiding spots, clapping and cheering for the arrival of the birthday boy. Steve stands shell shocked on the patio, his jaw hanging open.

“Happy birthday my love.” Eddie smiles, looping his arm around Steve’s waist and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“What - what is this?” He stammers.

“It’s a party, for you. We wanted to show you how much you mean to all of us.” You reply.

Steve’s eyes are glassy. He pinches his nose, a tell tale sign that he’s fighting back tears.

“Do - do you like it?” You ask hesitantly.

Thankfully, he nods.

“I love it. Thank you.” He smiles.

“Come on Harrington, don’t just stand there! Let’s get this party started!” Max shouts.

Steve laughs, grinning from ear to ear as he steps forward to greet his guests.

————————————————————————

Lounging back on a deck chair by the pool, you sip sweet punch from a solo cup, the heavy glug of vodka that Eddie had added warming your chest. You watch Steve as he emerges from the pool, having just lost a particularly vicious pool noodle fight against Mike, Dustin, and Lucas. Cool water drips from his broad frame, tanned skin glinting in the late afternoon sunshine. He stretches his arms up, pushing sopping locks of hair away from his face, exposing the delicate lettering inked on his ribs.

Your name was the latest addition. Swooping across his side just above his waist, sitting under Eddie, Isla, Benjamin. His family, now including you.

There’s the perfect spot left for another name. A part of you, and Steve, and Eddie. A little soul, who since this mornings conversation feels a little more real, a little closer. You were going to get the life you always dreamed of.

Steve catches you staring, shoots you a wink. Your cheeks grow warm, thighs clenching together instinctively. He laughs, breezing past you to grab another beer. Thankfully no one is paying you enough attention to notice you squirm.

Isla and Charlie splash in the pool, water wings squeaking, the boy squealing each time Isla sends a mini tidal wave crashing into his face. Nancy and Max keep an eye on them both, hands held out in the glistening turquoise ready to catch them if either of them stray too far from the shallow end.

Wayne and Hopper sit by the porch, reminiscing about the old days, grey swirls of smoke spilling from laughing mouths and pirouetting up into the warm air.

Robin is attempting to out chug Steve, their heads thrown back as they guzzle from cans. She struggles to keep up, spluttering as foamy beer spills past the seal of her lips and dampens her shirt.

You can’t see your mom, or Eddie. Glancing over your shoulder, you find them both sat on the grass a little ways behind you, stretching out in the sun. Ben sits on your mom’s lap, tugging her long beaded necklace in his chubby fist, trying to chew on it to soothe his sore gums. Eddie plucks long blades from the ground, winding them around his ringed fingers. His expression is uncharacteristically serious. Not wanting them to catch you eavesdropping, you turn back to face the water, but tune out the laughter and splashing, ears straining to catch snippets of their conversation.

“Well when are you going to do it?”

“I don’t know. Just waiting for the right time I guess.” Eddie mumbles.

“What about now?” Your mom suggests.

“Nah. I don’t think she’d like the attention, with everyone here. She planned all this for Steve. She wouldn’t want to detract from his big day.”

Your spine straightens against the deck chair. They’re talking about you. Eddie exhales a deep sigh.

“I just… I don’t know.”

“You’re worried, about what she’ll say.”

“I guess. We both are.”

Anxiety twists your stomach. What was this big secret that he and Steve had clearly been keeping from you? Why did your mom know about it? Does everyone here know apart from you? Your brain buzzes with too many questions.

“You’ve got nothing to worry about Eddie. It’ll be okay.” Your mom says softly.

“But what if-“

“Mommy! Come swim with us!”

Isla waves eagerly at you from the pool. You’re still not used to hearing that name fall from her lips, joy flooding your veins each time she says it.

“Yeah! Y/N come in!” Dustin calls.

A hand lands on your shoulder, squeezing affectionately.

“You ready for a dip baby?” Eddie smiles, the nerves present in his voice just seconds ago now replaced with his usual teasing tone.

“S-sure.” You reply, swallowing down the lump in your throat. You shrug off your floral cover up, letting Eddie take your hand and cannonball with you into the pool. Under the water the world goes quiet for a moment, bubbles bursting in front of your eyes, stinging from the chlorine. As your feet touch the tiles at the bottom, you decide to push your anxiety to the back of your mind, at least until the party is over. You owe it to Steve to let him have the best day. You kick up, breaking through the surface with a smile on your face.

————————————————————————

By the early evening the excitement of the day has overwhelmed Isla. She falls asleep curled up on Grandpa Hop’s lap, his bear paw like hands rubbing soothing circles over her back. Charlie isn’t faring much better, his eyelids drooping and head lolling against Nancy’s shoulder. She and Robin say their goodbyes, carrying their sleepy boy back to the car. Steve scoops Isla up, shushing her half-hearted protests when she rouses.

He pauses as he passes you, letting you sweep back her curls and kiss her forehead.

“Night sweetie.” You whisper.

“Goodnight.” She murmurs back, her eyes already closed again.

The evening air brings a chill, those warm summer nights still a few weeks away. No one wants to risk waking the two children who now sleep soundly upstairs, so instead of moving the party inside it begins to fizzle out slowly. Everyone wishes Steve a final ‘happy birthday’ as they go, thanking you for the day and parting with tight hugs and kisses pressed to cheeks.

Finally alone, you, Eddie, and Steve ignore the clean up that needs to be done, a job that can wait for the morning.

You expect Eddie to be eager to make good on his promise of finishing what you started that morning. But he’s unusually quiet as the three of you ascend the stairs, bristling with nervous energy when you step into the bedroom.

Warmth surrounds you when Steve’s arms wrap around your waist, tender kisses trailing up the side of your neck.

“Thank you for such a good day honey.” He says.

Spinning in his arms, you find his hazel eyes gazing at you softly, butterflies in your stomach unfurling their wings and beating wildly when he kisses you firmly, deeply. His tongue pushes past your lips, gliding over your own, hands pulling on your waist until your flush to him.

Behind you Eddie clears his throat.

You and Steve break apart. You turn to your other partner, finding his bouncing his leg anxiously, bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“You okay Ed?” You ask. Concern pulls your brows into a frown when he won’t meet your eyes. Instead he looks up at Steve.

“I want to do it now.” He says. There’s something off about his tone, a wobble underneath the determination that makes the butterflies in your belly swoop low, now with fear rather than anticipation.

“Okay. We’ll do it now.” Steve replies. He seems calmer, whatever it is that they’re planning not terrifying him like it does Eddie.

“Do what now?” You ask.

“Can you sit down for us angel?” Steve says softly.

Eddie stands, and you take his place, settling into the dip in the comforter left by his body.

Your hands tremble where they rest on your thighs. The tense atmosphere has your whole body shaking with anxiety, Steve’s reassuring smile not enough to offer you any comfort. He settles by your feet, resting on his knees. Eddie’s left the room, slipping into the walk in closet and returning a moment later. He takes a place beside his husband.

Steve’s hands take hold of yours, his thumbs rubbing across your palms.

“You know how much we care about you honey.” He says.

Oh god.

This is it. The moment you’ve feared ever since those first kisses beneath the mistletoe.

They’re done with you. This has run its course, they’ve changed their minds, and now they want you out. They’ll go back to their happy life, just the two of them, and you’ll be alone.

“Please don’t.” You whisper, your voice croaking as tears pool in your eyes.

“Don’t what honey?” Steve asks.

“P-please don’t leave me.”

Steve gasps, his fingers curling tighter around your own.

“Leave you?”

“That’s what this is, right? You’re b-breaking up with me.”

“What?” Steve whispers. He turns to Eddie, his husband looking just as confused as him.

“Baby, what on earth has got you thinking we’re leaving you?” Eddie asks.

“You’re just acting so strange. I overheard you talking to my mom about me earlier, like you’re keeping some secret from me. And now you won’t even look at me Ed.” You whine.

He shakes his head, placing his hands over yours and Steve’s.

“We’re not breaking up with you angel. We love you, we love you so much. I’m sorry I’ve been acting weird, I’m just nervous.”

“About what?” You sniffle.

“About this.”

Eddie reaches into his back pocket, fist unfurling to reveal a small velvet box. He lifts the lid with shaking hands.

Against the silky cushions inside sits a ring. The platinum band glows, three equal sized diamonds in a row blazing with fire and refracted light.

“Wh-what… why do you have that?” You whisper.

“We’ve been wanting to ask you for a while now.” Steve says softly.

“I know we can’t do it legally, but still, we wanted to make it more official somehow. We wanted to ask you to be ours.”

“We figured that we could just have a little ceremony, book out somewhere nice. Get everyone together again, like today. But to celebrate you. To celebrate the three of us.” Eddie explains.

“Like - like a wedding?” You ask.

“Like a wedding.” Eddie nods.

Both boys let out pained grunts when their backs hit the floor, the force of you launching yourself off the bed knocking them flat.

One arm loops around Eddie’s neck, your other hand grasping at Steve’s shirt, pulling them both in as tight as you can manage.

“Oh my - is that.. is that a yes?” Steve laughs.

“If it wasn’t then I’d say it was a pretty aggressive no.” Eddie chuckles, his voice quietened by the weight of you laying on his chest.

“Of course it’s a yes!” You exclaim. You pull your face out from where you’d buried it against Steve’s collar, smiling up at the boys with bright eyes shining with tears - the good kind. They both grin back at you, all their nerves evaporating, pushed aside by the overwhelming joy of the moment.

“Baby, as much as I’m loving this, I’m pretty sure when you body-slammed us into the carpet I threw your ring across the room. We need to find it, ‘cause I’d rather really not have 25k sucked up by the vacuum, or have it stab me in the foot when I get up to pee in the night.” Eddie laughs.

“How much?!” You shriek, clamping your hand over your mouth in horror.

Eddie tuts and rolls his eyes at your dramatics, shrugging his shoulders like it’s no big deal. Steve wriggles free from your hold, scrambling across the carpet to pick up the band which had almost rolled under the dresser.

“Got it.” He says triumphantly.

Eddie pulls your hand away from your mouth, holding it steady as Steve slips the ring onto your finger. It glides smoothly over your knuckle, the perfect fit.

“Do you like it honey?” He asks.

“I love it.” You reply breathlessly. Wiggling your fingers in the air the stones sparkle, so brilliantly bright you feel dazzled. The cool metal hugging your skin is unfamiliar, but something you’re more than happy to get used to. You’re so in awe of it, you know you won’t be able to take your eyes off it for weeks.

“It looks perfect.” Eddie says softly. He presses gentle kisses to each of your knuckles in turn, before turning your hand over to leave one more on your palm. His umber eyes flit up to you, lashes fluttering as he mumbles ‘I love you’s against your skin.

Not wanting to be left out, Steve shuffles in close to your side. His lips trace a faint path up the side of your neck, ghosting over your ear, sweet words of affection shared in quiet whispers.

“Our beautiful girl. Y’gonna be the most stunning bride anyone’s ever seen.”

“Our beautiful wife.” Eddie hums in agreement.

Your head tips back to the ceiling. Body melting at their words, at the soft presses of their lips, of the reassuring pressure of their roaming hands.

“I love you. I love both of you so much.” You sigh.

“We love you honey.” Steve says.

His teeth nip at your lobe, eliciting a desperate whine from the back of your throat. You feel his lips pull into a smirk. Eddie chuckles lowly, pushing your back against the bed, positioning himself over you so you’re caged in by his body.

“We might have to make it a shotgun wedding baby.” He says teasingly.

“Why?” You ask.

You shiver when his hands part your legs, revealing the damp spot on your panties.

“Because,” he says slowly, his fingertips dancing in a lazy waltz up your inner thighs. “I believe this morning Steve and I promised that we’d take turns stuffing you full.”

The man at your side groans. When he shifts his hips you feel the hardening length trapped beneath his shorts pressing hot and firm against you.

“You still want that honey?” He pants desperately in your ear. “You want me and Eddie to fuck you ‘til it takes?”

Eyes rolling back in your skull, you whimper as his filthy words have another wave of arousal gushing from your core. You jolt when Eddie’s finger presses firmly against the cotton that covers you.

“Oh boy. I’d say she definitely wants it Stevie.”

“Please!” You whine.

“I want it. Please, please I want it.”

“Okay angel. We’ve got you, no need to beg. You can have whatever you want. You can have it all.” Eddie promises.

You know he means it.

When you lay basking in the afterglow, bare except for the diamonds glinting on your finger, knees pushed to your chest to keep in everything they’ve given you. When Steve rubs a soothing massage on your calves, and Eddie peppers kisses across your cheeks and forehead. When they tell you they love you just before sleep takes hold, and you dream of a life that blossoms deep within you, born from that love.

You know that you get to have everything you’ve ever wanted, and more.

#this is everything #screaming crying salivating

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ssareids-coffee · 5 months

Note

hello! i love ur writing... could u pls write abt softdom!eddie and yn having s3x in front of a mirror with like a lot of praise? only if u r comfortable tho!<33

ily!

omg thank u so much!! i would love too!!

your back is pressed flush against eddies chest as you both kneel on the bed, his mirror now positioned in front of you both.

‘god look at you baby, you look so fucked out’ eddie pants, his breath coming in short pants with each thrust into your aching pussy. you look at the scene playing out in the mirror in front of you, his harsh thrusts pushing your body forward, tits bouncing in time with them as his arm is wrapped around your waist to ensure you are as close to him as possible. your eyes look glassy, cheeks flushed as you let out breathy moans, your head falling back onto his shoulder as he hits your sweet spot over and over. eddies hair is sticking to his forehead with sweat, his cheeks as flushed as yours as your name falls from his lips as he feels your pussy clenching around him.

‘fuck, can feel you squeezing my cock, you like the view baby?’ he asks, hand coming down to rub your clit in small circles.

‘yes! god! you look so good fucking me like this’ you reply breathlessly, feeling yourself reach your peak ‘eddie! i’m cumming god!’ you cry out, the mirror allowing you to see the way your juices squirt out of you with each harsh thrust, and the way eddies eyes roll back into his head as he feels your pussy tightening.

‘fuck that’s it baby, so good for me’ he grunts ‘gonna fill you up now, yeah? can’t waste a drop, that’s my girl’ he continues to thrust into you, his eyes never leaving the mirror as he watches your body shake and squirm with pleasure as he finally cums inside you with a loud moan. he slowly pulls out of you, laying down on the bed with you beside him as his hand brushes some hair out your face.

‘you did so good for me baby’ he says softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips ‘love you so much’

#screaming crying salivating #eddie munson smut #eddie munson drabble #eddie stranger things #abby talks #eddie munson request

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ssareids-coffee · 5 months

Note

hi ! i’m obsessed with the idea of best friend!eddie teaching virgin!reader how to give head😭😭 like maybe they’re watching a movie and a sex scene comes on and her having no experience she’s like “i wonder how it feels…does it feel good?” like genuine curiosity and omg he would be so vocal, soft, and instructional i can’t do this-

sorry this took so long!! but i hope you like it🫶🏻

sat on the sofa in his trailer, passing a joint between the two of you as a horror movie plays in the background. eddie hands you the joint, letting the smoke fill the air between you both. you’ve been best friends with eddie for almost your whole lives, so being curled up on his sofa under a blanket while your wearing one of his t-shirts and a pair of panties as he’s wearing his own plaid pyjama bottoms was nothing new.

‘what do you think of the move so far sweetheart?’ eddie asks casually, his arm wrapped around your waist as your head rests on his chest.

‘i really like it’ you say with a smile, finishing the joint and stubbing it out on the ashtray he keeps on the coffee table ‘i like the movie doesn’t take itself too seriously, makes it much more enjoyable’

eddie hums in agreement, his nose pressed to your head as you cuddle, taking in the scent of your shampoo. he knows it’s wrong to be harbouring these kind of feelings about his best friend, but there’s just something about you that makes him feel weak at the knees. he’s enjoying the moment of being close to you, when he starts to hear faint moans coming from the tv. he looks up, the main character of the movie having sex with her longtime boyfriend, he laughs.

‘literally the number one rule in a horror movie, if you fuck, you die’ he says with a laugh, looking down at you and watching your reaction to the scene unfolding. just as the main character climaxes, you turn to him.

‘does that feel, good?’ you ask, buzzed enough from the weed that your not entirely realising that your telling your best friend you have never had an orgasm. eddie feels his cheeks flush slightly and his cock stir involuntarily at the thoughts your question filled his mind with.

‘does what feel good? sex?’ he asks, slightly confused.

‘no, not sex, having an orgasm’ you say, looking back at the tv screen. eddies eyes widen at the realisation.

‘you’ve never had an orgasm?’ he asks, shocked ‘not even by yourself’

‘no, i mean i’ve tried but i can’t ever get myself to finish’ you say softly, feeling slightly embarrassed ‘does it feel good though?’ eddies mind is racing, partly because of the thoughts of you trying to touch yourself and not being able to cum.

‘uh- yeah it does feel good, like really good’ he says, clearing his throat so his voice does not make him sound as horny as he is.

‘have you ever made a girl cum before?’ you ask him, chewing on your bottom lip as you look up at him through long lashes.

‘yeah- a few times’

‘can you show me how you do it?’ you ask, the words falling out your mouth before you can stop them, his eyes widening and breathing becoming more laboured at your proposition ‘oh! not like that, like can you show me how you do it, like acting it out or something?’ you say shyly. eddie is sure he is dreaming, there is no way his beautiful best friend is asking him to explain him to show her how to cum, so she can then go home and touch herself using what he taught her. no- he shouldn’t be getting off on this, your his friend and friends ask each other for help, but he can’t deny that your innocence isn’t making him want to completely ruin you.

‘yeah, sure i can’ eddie replies, shifting on the sofa to turn so he’s facing you, holding one of his palms up ‘so, you know where your pussy is, but your clit is up higher, it’s that little bud right at the top, about here’ he says, using his other hand to point to the top of his outstretched palm.

‘the mistake a lot of people make is applying way too much pressure, or not going slowly enough’ he continues.

‘how do you find the right speed and pressure though?’ you ask curiously ‘i always find that i either can’t feel anything or i feel so much it hurts’

‘well the pussy and clit aren’t the only places a person can feel pleasure, working yourself up first can help with that kind of thing’ he says, clearing his throat as he tries not to picture you with your hand down your panties when your home alone.

‘working myself up how?’

‘uh- teasing yourself, playing with your nipples, teasing yourself over your panties’ eddie replies, looking at you with flushed cheeks and dilated pupils ‘taking things slowly with yourself until your really desperate, can feel how much you need it, it’ll help’

‘okay, that makes sense’

‘you’ll want to start on the outside, working on your clit, but when you get wet enough you can try putting a finger inside yourself. it’ll be tight, but you want to curl your finger till you find a spongy spot, and you want to hit that again and again, that’s your gspot’

‘can you make someone cum just using their gspot?’ you ask, your face mirroring his own desire.

‘yeah, you can, but most women need some kind of clitoral stimulation to cum too, so using both hands to work different areas would most likely help’ he says, noticing that your squeezing your thighs together, cheeks slightly flushed- were you, turned on by this?

‘i have such short fingers though’ you say, placing your palm against his to show the clear size difference ‘i don’t know if mine could reach that far inside’ you say with a small pout. eddie clears his throat, trying to think about anything other than how close you both were and the image of you fingering yourself that was now playing on repeat in his head.

‘right- uh, i guess that could be a problem’ he says, eyes locked onto yours, face subconsciously moving closer to yours.

‘eddie’ you say softly, fingers now intertwined with his ‘can you show me’ you ask, voice barley above a whisper.

‘are you asking what i think your asking?’ he says breathlessly, nose bumping against yours as you are drawn to each other.

‘yes, can you show me how to make myself cum’ you whisper, and that’s all the confirmation that eddie needed before his lips were on yours. years of pent up feelings are pouring out of him as he kisses you, he desperately tried to remember everything about how you feel against him incase this never happens again. he reluctantly pulls away, turning you round so your back is flush against his chest as he sits on the sofa.

‘can i take these off sweetheart?’ he asks, voice thick with desire as he tugs at your borrowed shirt.

‘please’ you whisper, he pulls the fabric off your body, leaving you in just a pair of panties. he feels like he could cum in his pants just from looking at you, the way your back is pressed to him, your tits on full display for him as he takes in your almost naked form.

‘we’re gonna start with working you up, okay angel?’ he says sweetly, lips finding their way to your neck as his hands run up and down your stomach, occasionally grabbing your hips and giving them a squeeze. the feel of his lips on your neck and his hands finally on you after all this time, you let out a breathy moan which makes eddies already hard cock impossibly harder. he slowly reaches up and starts gently touching your boobs, tracing your nipples with his thumb as his mouth finds its way to your earlobe, gently biting it. your back is arching, head falling back against his shoulder as his name falls from your lips like a prayer. your squirming now, bucking your hips up as he tugs on one of your nipples as you let out an almost pornographic moan.

‘eddie, please’ you moan desperately, breathing now laboured as he touches you everywhere but the place you need him most. he takes your panties off, slipping them down your legs as he lets out a groan at the sight of you now naked against him.

‘okay sweetheart, give me your hand’ he says, voice heavy with lust as you place the back of your hand against the palm of his ‘good girl, now your gonna touch yourself, and i’m gonna help guide you with my hand like this okay?’

‘please’ you whisper, your hand moving down your stomach and towards your aching pussy. your fingers catch on your clit, making you gasp at the sensation, his hand still firmly placed against yours, guiding each movement. he starts with small, soft circles on your clit, your already whining and moaning at the feeling- you didn’t know it could feel this good. he can hear just how wet you are, each circle of your clit with your finger making a soft squelching noise from just how turned on you were, making his cock strain even more against his pyjama pants- but this isn’t about him, it’s about you. he slowly starts to increase the pace of his hand against yours, speeding up the movements of your fingers against your clit.

‘eddie, feels so good, didn’t know it could feel so good’ you pant, head thrown back on his shoulder as your eyes squeeze shut, cheeks flushed from arousal.

‘i know baby, your doing so well’ he says softly, using his free hand to gently stroke your hair before moving his fingers down to your neglected nipples.

‘fuck- something feels, different’ you say through a moan, hips now grinding against your own (and also his) hand as your breath comes out in short gasps.

‘it’s okay sweetheart, you gonna cum? your doing so well, you can cum’ he says, coxing your orgasm out of you with each brush of your nipple and circle of your clit. the coil in your stomach burst, crying out as you grind your pussy desperately against your fingers, crying out his name as slick gushes from you. eddie can’t stop himself now, he’s all but humping your back, desperate for any kind of release now your cumming. you cum down from your orgasm, head fuzzy from the pleasure. he softly removes his hand from yours, moving it to your jaw to lift your chin upwards so your looking at him.

‘you did so good angel, so fucking good’ he says breathlessly, kissing you again.

‘eddie’ you mumble against his lips ‘can you show me how to touch a dick now?’

‘fuck’

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson drabble #abby talks #eddie munson request #eddie stranger things smut #screaming crying salivating

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ssareids-coffee · 5 months

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Concept: Y/n and Spencer move in together to his apartment and have a cute little talk about their future like buy a house when they have kids, how would it be, cats or dogs...❤️

domestic spencer<333

after a year of being together, spencer asked you to move in with him- and of course you immediately accepted. that’s how you found yourself stumbling into his (now your) apartment carrying the last few boxes of your stuff as he pours you both a glass of wine to celebrate.

“welcome home y/n” he smiles softly, handing you a glass after you have put the boxes down. you capture his lips in a soft kiss before grabbing his hand and pulling him onto the sofa with you. he wraps his arm around you, smiling so much he is sure his face is going to hurt tomorrow but he’s just so happy to have you living with him.

‘we can turn the spare bedroom into something else if you want’ he says, pressing a kiss to your temple ‘maybe somewhere for you to do your yoga or something’

you smile, heart warming at how much he clearly wanted you to be comfortable here, with him.

‘your so sweet spence, but i like it just how it is right now’ you say happily, looking at him with eyes filled with emotion ‘maybe one day we could change it, we could make it a mini library for all our books! or maybe an nursery one day if you ever want to have children with me’ you say softly, cheeks flushing slightly.

‘i want nothing more than to have a child with you one day’ he replies, his heart beating faster at the thought of you and him having a family ‘i’ll marry you first though, don’t worry’

‘you want to marry me?’ voice barley above a whisper as you look into his eyes with all the softness he makes you feel.

‘of course i do, more than anything, ive thought about it all- how now we are living together we can get a cat or two, i know how im going to propose, i think about seeing you walk down the isle, finding out your pregnant, holding our baby for the first time’ he says gently, hand reaching down to touch your face ‘i mean it when i said i want to love you forever, im all in’

‘spence’ you say, voice shaky with emotion ‘i want all that too, i’ve thought about my life with you because im all in too’

‘i love you’

‘i love you more’

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid request #spencer reid drabble #abby talks #criminal minds drabble #spencer reid imagine

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ssareids-coffee · 5 months

Text

some of the jjk men were truly made for the mentally ill eldest daughters

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ssareids-coffee · 6 months

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okey so brainrot: this is RLLY WEIRD IM SORRY but the reader is like innocent/shy and doesn't really have any experiences regarding sex so like one day she asks satoru to "show her" how to touch herself but he demonstrates it on a fruit (like on an orange? peach? or smth like that) then things get heated😉. I DONT KNOW IF I EXPLAINED THIS WELL

Gojo teaching you to touch yourself on an orange.. and things escalate..

contains: fem reader, teasing, sexual tension, fingering, guided masturbation, experienced gojo, readers first orgasm, he talks you through it, 99% of this is dirty talk and nasty dialogue

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

*Ding* the sound of a video recording starting chimed from Gojo’ phone, “Okay okay, say that again for me?~” The white haired man cooed cockily.

“Gojo you asshole! Ugh, forget it, I was stupid to ask you.” You threw your arms up in defeat, rolling your eyes as you turned to walk out of his room, embarrassed.

“Noooonono,” he cried, the chime sounded again, ending the video, “I’m sorry I shouldn’t tease you like that~” The man was suddenly behind you, wrapping his arms around your torso and rocking you side to side, “Forgive me, I was wrong okayy~” he tried to reason, he really didn’t want to blow this.

After all, his cute little friend had just burst into his room and confessed that she had never touched herself before and was wanting some guidance; knowing gojo had some experience with women under his belt, you came to him for help.

“To make it up to you, I won’t even make you pay for this session how bout that?” he grinned behind you annoyingly, poking his head out to the side of you so you could see his expression through your peripheral vision.

“What are you some sex therapist?” you laughed, making him sigh in relief. “I’ll be anything you need me to be~” he wiggled his eyebrows, making you shrug his heavy body off of you in faux disgust.

“So, you a visual learner? or more hands on?” He asked when you turned your body to face him once more, letting him drag you so you were sitting on the end of his bed.

“I’m not uh.. really sure when it comes to this.” you confessed. “You’re not sure of much huh?” he teased, making you punch his shoulder lightly, “haha, you’ll know soon if you’re a hands on learner or not.” he said ambiguously.

But you trusted gojo with this for some reason..

..which might’ve been a mistake.

You did not anticipate how riled up this situation would get you. You’ve always found gojo attractive; who didn’t; but you came to him because nothing had ever happened between the two of you before, you were friends, you were sure the atmosphere wouldn’t feel so embarrassing but—

“This is your clit, you wanna make little circles on it like this with one or two fingers,” The white haired man spoke, currently holding half an orange in one hand, and rubbing tight circles onto the suggestive looking slit of the fruit with the other.

Gojo was sat in front of you on his chair while you sat on the bed, his legs spread as he held the fruit out in front of him and instructed you on it.

“Don’t wanna go too fast either, wanna work yourself up a bit.” He spoke, looking up at you every so often to make sure you were paying attention; this was important after all.

“If you start getting too needy, rub your fingers down here-“ he dragged his long digits down to the middle of the fruit, presumably where the opening to your pussy would be.

He rubbed his fingers on the outside of the slit, in a ‘come hither’ motion; not inserting his fingers; just caressing them on the outside, occasionally rubbing them back and forth over the opening.

“You paying attention?” he checked, snapping you out of your stupor as your eyes flitted up to his, you were hoping the blush on your face wasn’t as evident as it felt. You just gave a curt nod at his question, not trusting your voice to sound steady right now.

The longer and longer this went on, the needier and needier you we’re feeling between your own legs, a heat was growing between them and you were praying gojo hadn’t noticed that your legs were crossed not in comfort but because you had been steadily squeezing them together and rubbing your pussy against the rough denim stitch your jeans made for awhile now.

“Good, it gets a little more interesting now so make sure you’re paying attention.” he says, waiting for you nod again before he continued.

“This is your vaginal opening, this is where you would put your little fingers inside yourself when you masturbate.” he said, “or get fucked heh,” he adds vulgarly, making himself smile.

“Start with one finger, especially since you’ve never done anything here before right?” He asks, still nonchalantly rubbing his fingers against the slit while he waits for you to once again acknowledge his words; his piercing blue eyes staring bullets through you as he does so.

“Y-yeah.” You verbally answered, silently begging for him to continue. If you tried hard enough, you could almost feel him touching you like that instead of the stupid fruit, who you were unnecessarily jealous of at the moment.

“It’s gonna be tight, and it might not feel like much at first-“ You held your breath as he spoke, waiting for his next moves. Gojo looked down at the fruit, teasing a circle around the slit one last time before he pressed the tip of his finger into the center deeper and deeper, making juices spill out around it. “But a couple inches inside, there’s gonna be a little rough patch.” he tells you.

“A rough patch?” you repeat, confused. “Your g-spot.” he answered, “It’s gonna make you feel soo good.” he smirks, looking up at you from his ministrations on the fruit. “All you gotta do is ruuub~ like this-“ he demonstrates, massaging upwards inside the slit of the fruit, making vulgar squelching noises emanate around the room.

“It’ll even sound similar if you’re doing it right,” he adds, giggling to himself. “Can you do both?” you ask, hoping the breathlessness of your words wasn’t able to be picked up by Gojo’s ears.

He tilts his head to the side for a second, questioning what you mean before his eyes light up when he fully registers what you were asking, “Ohhh~ You want me to show you how to touch your clit and finger yourself at the same time?” he asked, a slightly mocking lilt to his voice.

“Oh I just- I wanted to know if it was possible..” you shyly clarified, looking away for a second, suddenly way too aware of his eyes on you.

“Aww~ of course it’s possible!” he beamed. You watched his thumb come up and pet the top of the slit of the orange, where your clit would be, and rubbed back and forth when his fingers thrusted out of the slit. “You can use two hands if this is too uncomfortable,” He adds.

“Most women cant cum unless you give ur little clit some attention, even with how good touching yourself inside can feel.” Gojo spoke.

“Have you ever-“ you gulped, “made someone cum from just the inside?” you asked, taking the brief pause he took to answer to add, “I-I just wanna know if it’s p-possible is all!”

“Oh yeah~” he answers in a heartbeat after your last sentence, “Even made a couple squirt from just the inside too.” he brags.

“Shit,” you accidentally mumble, not meaning to actually say that our loud, “What was that?” he asks, playing dumb when he mentally recorded the word that fell from your lips, making his ego swell.

“Oh n-nothing.” you brushed it off, waving your hand in front of yourself, urging him to continue his teachings. “Make sure when your fingers are inside that pump them in-“ he slowly drags his fingers out of the fruit, juices coating them, making you squeeze your legs together at the lewd image, “and out, that you also curl them inside at the same time.” he instructs.

“That’s how you’re gonna make your g-spot happy and get the most of your pleasure.” Gojo finishes.

Your mouth was completely dry at this point, leg bouncing in impatience, still subtly squeezing your thighs together for even the smallest bit of relief while you watched the juices drip down his lengthy fingers.

“Well that’s about it for the basics, I think you can go pretty far with what i’ve taught you, if you can remember it all.” He giggles, raising from the chair and moving to set the fruit on the table.

“Wait!” you say a little too loudly, hopping he didn’t sense the need in your voice, “Um.. I think I might be a hands on learner..” You confess, “I’m still a little confused..”

Gojo stops in his tracks, retracting his hand that’s holding the fruit back towards his body as a sinister smirk grows on his face. “Yeah?” he asks, cheering internally when you not coyly.

“Alright then, class is back in session!!” he throws his hands up, walking over to you.

When you think he’s going to sit back down in the chair he actually walks past it, and past you. You turn your head to see where he was going but your muscles freeze and tense up when you feel the bed dip behind you, followed by his strong chest pressing snugly against your back.

“This okay?” he asks before he continues, to which you nod. “Need to hear you say it, sweets.” You blush at the nickname, glad he can’t see your face like this, “Yes, this is okay.” you confirm softly.

“Alright, here” he holds the fruit out to you, and you take it in both your smaller hands. “I’m gonna walk you through it, that sound okay?” he checks, smiling to himself when you let out a meek ‘mhm.’

He pulls the both of you further back on the bed, so he’s resting comfortably upright against the bed frame, and you following suit against his chest. “Comfortable?” the while haired man whispers far too close to your ear.

“Y-yes,” you confirm once more, the hitch of your breath made him smile to himself.

“Okayy~ Ideally you would want to work yourself up by playing with your chest first,, slowly drag your fingers down your body, touch yourself over your pants and all that— but we only have an orange so this will have to do!” he says, not realizing (?) how hot his words were making you.

“Start by slowly touching your clit.” He spoke, as if you were really touching yourself right now. Your shaky fingers came down to find the top of the slit, rubbing one finger against where you guessed your clit would be, as he watched intently over your shoulder.

“Yeah, right there good job.” he praised, making you wish you were back to sitting on the bed with your legs crossed so you could squeeze them together. It would be a little too risky to try anything when he was so close to you, you bet he could hear your heartbeat beating out of your chest from how the two of you were squished together right now.

“A little faster now.” he instructed, licking his lips behind you as he felt your breath pick up when you drew faster circles against the fruit, wet ‘schlick’ noises echoing in your ears.

“Like this?” you asked, switching up the direction of the circles every so often, “Oh yeah, you’re a pro,” he giggled into your ear, sending goosebumps down your spine, “You sure you’ve never touched yourself before?”

“Well I have but it.. it didn’t feel like much.” you confessed, blushing at your own revealing words. “I see..” he ponders, cerulean eyes focused on your smaller fingers playing with the fruit.

“I have an idea, something that might help you understand a little better, if your open to it,” he pauses you, his big hand coming to stop your movements against the orange.

“Um, what is it?” you ask hesitantly. The white haired man leaned a little too close for comfort, making you whine out loud when he whispered, “You trust me?” into the shell of your ear.

Truthfully, Gojo had been hard from the moment you asked him to teach you how to touch yourself. Stealing glances at your thighs pressing together not so subtly when he was talking you through step by step how to pleasure yourself, watching you suck your lip into your mouth when his words became a little too dirty, how your breath picked up when he inserted his fingers into the slit of the fruit.

He was losing his mind, his patience was wearing increasingly thinner and thinner at your reactions, he knew exactly what he was doing to you, and your obliviousness was making his cock drip pre steadily into his boxers.

Thank god for his baggy sweater or you might’ve (100% would’ve) noticed the huge hard on he was sporting in his sweats. He was surprised you didn’t say anything when he was pressed against your back, assuming you were too enthralled and overwhelmed with what was going on to notice.

“I trust you.” you responded honestly, making his cock twitch against the fabric that confined it.

“I’m gonna touch this fruit just how I just showed you, and you’re going to mimic me, on yourself.” He whispered, his hot breath against the shell of your ear making you shiver.

“R-right here? now?” you asked clarifying his words, slight panic and embarrassment seeping into your tone. “I saw you rubbing your thighs together, you’re aching for it, right? What better time to practice getting off when you’re actually all worked up?” He made a good point, you’ve been wanting to touch yourself for half an hour now, you were sure you had completely soaked through your panties by this point.

You made a sound of embarrassment, eyes darting around the room at him having exposed you, “Awww heh, don’t be embarrassed, I’m in the same boat.” he confessed, trying to comfort you, “Been so hard since you asked me for help.”

His words did little to comfort you, making you even more flustered as you covered your eyes with the hand you weren’t holding the orange in, “Okay- just.. just do something, please.” you begged, not being able to take the throbbing between your own legs anymore.

“Okay okay, all you gotta do is follow my lead, kay?” he clarifies, grabbing your wrist and pulling off of your face so he could see your expression from the side. When he heard you let out a meek ‘okay’ he reached for the orange and set it down on the bed for a moment.

“Go ahead and take off your pants for me,, leave your panties on.” Came Gojo’s first instructions. You followed, leaning forward and away from his chest, your fingers worked quickly at undoing your button and zipper, sliding your fingers underneath the waistband as you pulled the garment off your body, revealing your soft-looking skin to Gojos eyes.

When you leaned back against him he dragged the tips of his fingers along your thighs, his assumption of your soft skin becoming true as he dragged his digits all the way up to your hips, gripping your waist for a moment before he complimented, “So fucking soft.”

“Spread your legs pretty,” His soothing voice told you, staring intently between your legs, wishing he had a better view, but after this little scene he had high hopes he would have no problem getting a closer look at you.

You did as you were told, you parted your knees, feet propped up on the bed as you waited with bated breath for his next instruction, feeling yourself throb behind the drenched fabric.

He reached for the fruit again, holding it with both hands in front of you, as he started tapping with one long finger on the ‘clit’ of the orange. When you didn’t move your own finger to repeat him he pats your pelvis lightly with his hand, “I know i’m addicting to watch, but you gotta touch yourself too.” He laughs, making you snap out of your stupor as you forgot you were supposed to be mimicking him.

“S-sorry, do it again.” you request, really focusing on his fingers against the fruit this time while you started sliding your own fingers inside your panties.

“Uh-uh” he warned, his voice alone stopping your hand in its tracks, “Over your panties, I’ll tell you when to touch yourself directly, I’ll take care of everything.” He explains, leaving a small peck against the side of your head.

“Alright, just pay attention that’s all you gotta do.” Gojo starts up again, tapping his fingers on the fruit and this time you follow him, tapping your finger over your wet panties, right against your clit.

The little stimulation alone was so intense, after being worked up for so long this relief was much needed. “Feels good to touch yourself after being so horny huh?” He spoke, like he was reading your mind.

‘Mhm’ you respond, letting your body relax against him, your head coming back to lay against his chest as you let yourself feel what he was allowing you to.

“I bet it does..” Gojo smirks, looking at your lithe shaky fingers tapping softly against your clothed mound. After a couple of seconds he decided to press against the fruit, starting up the small circles, “lightly.” He reminded.

You followed suit, the circles felt worlds better than the tapping, the consistent pressure and pattern was making you dizzy. The first actual whimper of the night left your lips and it made Gojo’s cock twitch in his pants.

He cooed at you when you squeezed your eyes shut, mouth dropping open in a small o shape while you continued your ministrations, “Cant follow directions with your eyes shut can you? Or you got some kinda super power I’m unaware of~?” he joked, making you crack your eyes open and look at his fingers again.

You noticed he had picked up his pace, you were unsure of when he did but you were happy you noticed now. You were appreciative at getting to touch yourself but were growing needy with the slow pace of his fingers. “F-fuck.” You gasped out, your hips bucking into your finger as you quickened the movement.

“Talk to me, how’s it feel.” Gojo was growing impatient himself, he loved teasing you and he knew he should take this slow especially since it was your fist time touching yourself properly— but the thought of pressing your back down into a mean arch while he just pulled your panties aside and fucked his cock into you at the hilt was constantly in the back of his mind.

He loved teasing his sex partners, but he’s never done anything like this before. Taking it this slow and instructing someone like this was new to him. It was so intimate, and so soft, and his dick really fucking liked it.

“F-feels so good, I- I wanna take my panties off.” you confessed, your ass bumping against his hard on every time your hips humped against your finger. “Yeah? Wanna touch your wet pussy directly?” He spoke, biting his lip as he held back a groan.

“Yes-yes- please..” You begged, the way he was talking was making your need to have something inside you— to feel more—so much worse.

“Soon, I promise.” He said, rubbing his long fingers against the slid of the fruit, making quiet squelching noises as he ran his finger up and down the length of it. He smiled to himself when you listened quicker this time, you were catching on.

You rubbed two fingers over the length of your pussy, moaning when he stopped his movements and pressed on and off against the hole of the fruit, where the opening of your pussy would be.

You repeated the action, feeling the fabric of your wet panties get pushed against the entrance of your little hole, “I cant tell if those sounds are you, or the fruit.” Gojo laughed breathlessly, becoming dizzy at the squelching that became louder and louder in his ears.

“Gojo..” you wined needily into the air. “Okay, okay,” His resolve cracked much faster than it normally would’ve. He knew he was the one in control right now but it felt like you had him on a leash, controlling his every move. Just a couple of wines from you was enough to make him fold, giving in to what you wanted.

He grinned watching you hastily remove your panties and spreading your legs once more, being so obedient by not immediately touching yourself and instead digging your nails into your thighs and waiting for his fingers to move against the orange.

He wanted to see how long you could hold out, but his dick and head alike were yelling at him to move his own fingers so he could watch you touch yourself, so that’s exactly what he did. Using two long fingers he rubbed hard circles again the fruit, his giggles shaking your body when you jumped into action with no hesitation, rubbing and pinching your clit between your fingers as you slid them back and forth, spelling letters and drawing shapes on it— whatever gojo did, you did.

“Fuck Gojo, this feels so good-“ you moaned, fighting the urge to let your head fall back as you felt an unfamiliar coil tighten itself in your tummy.

“I know baby I know.” His voice spoke with need, taking all four of his fingers and smacking them against the entire fruit, just so you would repeat him so he could hear how wet you were. “Oh shiit, you’re fucking drenched.” He groaned, his eyes briefly rolling back into his head before he started rubbing little circles again.

“This turning you on? huh?” He spoke, “You like when I show you how to treat your little pussy?” His words made you moan, going off of his instruction and quickening the pace of your fingers against yourself, “I know you wanna cum but you gotta slow down, I didn’t speed up my fingers so you don’t get to either~” Gojo reminded.

Being the obedient girl you were, you slowed your fingers down, “Sorry, ‘m sorry,” you apologized profusely, “It’s alright,” He smiled, “It just feels so good huh?” Again, it was like he was reading your mind.

“So good, s-so so good.” you whine. “Let’s make you feel ever better, huh?” Gojo spoke against your ear, his breathy laugh tickling your skin. He dragged his fingers down to the slit of the fruit, just teasing the entrance, watching your fingers do the same.

“I cant go as deep on my model here, but when I put them inside, I want you to go deep okay?” He said. “Okay, okay.” You rush, anxious but excited to have something inside of you.

“Good girl, such a good listener.” He praised, making your cunt clench around nothing. “Okay, here we go~” Gojo slowly pushed a single finger into the fruit, his jaw dropping with a smile when he watched your smaller finger insert itself into your walls.

“Yeahhh, how does that feel?” He asks, his cock dripping out more pre into his boxers, throbbing and twitching against its confines. “Fuck.. ‘s tight.” you whine, making him groan into the air.

“Yeah? Can you feel yourself twitching?” Gojo is trying to pull as many details out of you as he can, his cock was aching for it. “Y-yes, so much- ngh-“ you choke on a moan when you start to slide your finger it in and out, following Gojo’s lead.

“Remember to curl your finger twords the top of your tummy when you put it inside,” He instructs, watching your body jolt when you follow his instruction. “Oh fu-“ you cut yourself off with a breathless moan when you feel it— your gspot.

You’ve never felt anything like this before, it almost felt more intense than touching your clit, but drastically different, you didn’t know what part was your favorite— you were becoming enthralled with your own body.

“Fuck it- it feels so good Gojo-“ you whine, turning your head against his chest so you’re making eye contact with him. “I know baby I knoww~” He cooes down at you, shaking his head.

“Put another finger when you can take it, it’ll feel so much better.” he reveals, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth while he waited with bated breath as you pulled out your finger, covered in your juices— which made him grown— before you reinserted it, this time with your ring finger joining in tandem.

“Ohmygod-“ you cry, “It’s s-so much tighter gojo-“ you looked back down at his fingers, mimicking his increasingly rough pace as he looses his mind a bit at your use of his last name.

“Satoru baby, call me satoru.” He desperately needed to hear you say his name properly, every cell in his body was aching for it. “Sa-toru! Toru fuck!” you whine. His eyes roll back, his head falling suit and bumping against the headboard at his name leaving your lips.

“Yeah, keep saying my name sweet thing,” he groaned, not able to stop himself from humping against your lower back any longer, the air around you becoming increasingly thicker at how aroused the two of you were becoming.

Suddenly something snapped inside Gojo and he discarded the orange on the floor, wrapping one strong arm around your torso while he brought his juice soaked fingers to your lips, tapping them for you to open up for him.

“Yesss, good fucking girl, don’t stop your fingers- fuckkk-“ The white haired man groaned when your tongue eagerly licked around his fingers, he groaned at the warmth of your mouth, pushing his fingers as far as you would let him into your mouth, coughing a bit around them when they tickled the back of your throat.

“Play with your clit too sweetie, wanna see you cum all over your fingers.” He directed, keeping his fingers snug in your mouth as you moaned and whined around them, his other hand gripping the side of your waist strong enough to leave bruises as your other hand joined the mix on your pussy, rubbing quick circles with perfect pressure right against your clit.

“Fuck, you feel it? You gonna cum?” He groaned when your body jerked more frequently, breath coming in shorter pants as well, a sign of your impending orgasm.

You nodded against him, moaning around his fingers as you quickened your thrusts, the squelching emanating louder in the room as your juices started pooling around your fingers.

“Yesyesyes, take it, keep rubbing your clit just like that, fuck-“ Gojo felt like he was about to cum himself, lightheaded and entranced at the scene in front of him— watching you please yourself so eagerly. He couldn’t believe he was about to witness your first ever orgasm, something he only ever dreamed about.

You tried to speak his name around his fingers, warning him you were about to cum but it came out muffled. He removed his fingers from your mouth, grabbing your jaw with the same hand, and smearing your spit messily against your skin— he directed your head to look between your legs.

“Watch yourself cum baby, want you to take it all in, remember how fucking good this feels.” He instructed, as you whined and moaned his name freely into the room.

“Toru- I- I think i’m cumming!! fuck-“ you cried, squeezing your eyes shut as the dam broke.

“Oh yesyesyes- there you fucking go~ good fucking girl~” He talked you through it as you came all over your fingers— cum gushing out around them as your cunt pulsed around your digits, body jerking in on itself after every wave of your high, your legs and hands shaking at the intensity.

You panted as you came down from your first ever orgasm, barely registering that Gojo was praising you as your mind felt fuzzy, you were feeling complete bliss, you couldn’t believe it took you so long to finally do this— you were addicted.

“Satoru- ngh-“ you whined in sensitivity as you slowly pulled out your fingers, holding your soaked digits up into the air and blushing at how they shined in the light with how wet they were.

Gojo reached for your wrist, shamelessly bringing your hand to his mouth as he sucked your fingers into his mouth, moaning and eyes rolling back at the taste. Your face blushed increasingly darker at his antics, clenching your thighs at how his soft tongue felt cleaning off your fingers.

After he popped them out of his mouth a dopey grin made itself home on his face, “So fucking sweet too.” he praised, licking his lips to clean up any drop of your juices he might’ve missed.

Gojo squeezed his arm around you tighter, gripping your face once more as he made you turn your head more directly towards him before he spoke again, “Wanna learn how to touch a dick next?”

#screaming crying salivating #i’m on my hands and knees

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ssareids-coffee · 6 months

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i’m so tired of being strong

writing something a little different with some satoru gojo angst/comfort cw/// wanting to not be alive, struggling.

summary- you and satoru are both so strong, but you don’t know how much longer you can be

your sat on the steps to the school, it’s long after dark and your smoking your way through another pack of cigarettes as you stare blankly out into the grounds. satoru sees you, sitting down beside you and lighting his own cigarette.

‘what are you still doing here y/n?’ he asks quietly, taking a drag of his cigarette as he looks out at the schools gardens in the darkness.

‘lost track of time i guess, think i just needed some time to think’ you reply softly, taking a drag of your cigarette. the two of you fall into a comfortable silence for a few minutes, you eventually breaking it.

‘toru, do you believe in god?’ you ask quietly, eyes still staring out at the darkness in front of you, taking a drag of your cigarette and watching as the smoke clouds around you.

‘god? no, i don’t think so, not anymore, not after what i have seen, i don’t think any god could let those things happen. what about you?’ he asks softly, taking another drag of his own cigarette.

‘no, i don’t think i can believe in a god, but i wish i could’ you say sadly, shaking your head slowly ‘god what i would give to believe though, to sit alongside all those people in church with this blind hope that someone out there to save you. but in the end, if there is a god, if he loves you, it’s just not enough to save you’

he takes a moment to think about what you said, inhaling the smoke of his cigarette before speaking ‘yeah...I know what you mean.you want there to be something out there that can make everything better, but then you start to wonder why no one has ever come to save you.’ he takes a deep breath, sadness evident in his voice ‘it feels so lonely sometimes’.

you look at satoru, the chosen one, the strongest sorcerer of all time and you can see he’s tired, gone is his playful persona, gone are the jokes you both shared, it took all of your energy to even muster smiles at this point.

‘i used to pray, i used to believe in a god when i was a child, before all this’ you say sadly, taking a drag of your cigarette and savouring the feeling of the smoke burning your lungs ‘but i prayed, and prayed, but after a while, i realised no one was coming to save me. i guess if it’s meant to be, it will be’

‘yeah, i used to pray too, it always seemed like no one was listening, or if they were, they never bothered to help.’ he says, voice low as he looks out onto the dark school grounds, wondering when did his life become this. ‘but I think you're right, in the end, we're all on our own’

‘i wish i had that kind of hope left, i wish i could believe in something bigger than this, but i’m so tired’ you say softly, taking a drag of your cigarette as if you hope it would make you feel less empty ‘i’m tired of being used, having to save people when i don’t even know how to save myself, im never enough, i just want peace’

he sighs, watching the amber glow of the cigarette as you take a drag. ‘i don’t think i remember what peace feels like anymore’ he says quietly.

‘neither do i’ you reply ‘i don’t even feel like a person anymore i don’t feel alive, i feel like a shell of myself who just goes through the motions and the only thing i feel is empty’ you watch the smoke swirling around you both as you sit and smoke.

‘I know what you mean..I feel like I'm just existing now, not really living..And the only thing I feel is exhaustion’ he looks down at the ground again, taking another drag and speaking quietly ‘I can't remember the last time I felt happiness and joy..or hope for the future..It feels like it's been so long ago..’

‘i want to feel real again, i want to feel human, i want to feel something that reminds me why i am alive, that i am alive’ you say softly, looking at him with dull and tired eyes that mirror his own.

‘sometimes i wonder if the only time i will find peace again is when i’m dead, y/n’ he says, so quietly you can hardly hear him.

‘i wonder that too toru’ you reply gently ‘sometimes, when we are on missions, i’ll let a curse get a few hits in, just so i feel something other than empty, that even for those short seconds i am reminded i am real, i am alive’

‘i do that too, and i’m so ashamed that is what my life has turned into’ he says, your fingertips touching as your hands rest on the ground beside you, the gentle touch serving as a reminder that you aren’t alone, that you are both here.

‘toru, you shouldn’t be ashamed’ you say gently, looking at him with a soft expression ‘it’s so hard, being this strong, everyone relying on us to save them’ he takes your hand, squeezing it as you speak ‘i wish that for just one moment, people didn’t need us, that they looked at us as more than just these beings which can save them, i want to be more than that’

‘i don’t remember what it feels like to be seen as anything more than a protector, that’s all we are to everyone, the people who can save them, and i want to be more, i want to be a whole person’ he says with a sigh, the two of you looking at each other with a new sense of understanding.

‘toru, you will always be more than a protector to me’ you say, thumb brushing over his hand in small circles as he holds your hand in his. he looks at you, surprised and clearly touched.

‘y/n, do you really mean that? i think that people always see me as strong, and nothing more than that, i can’t remember the last time someone saw me as whole’ you smile softly, looking at him with more sincerity than he has seen in a long time.

‘you aren’t just a protector, you aren’t just strong, you are my satoru- your kind, funny, you always put others first, you love sweets so much i’m surprised your teeth haven’t rotted off, you make everyone feel important, you always have time for your friends, your smile and laugh could light up a room, you never fail to make me smile even when i feel like i’m going to cry- you are so much more than you know’ his expression softens even more as he looks at you, still smiling softly and speaking in a gentle voice.

‘you really notice all that, you see me as all that? y/n, i don’t know what to say’ he replies, a smile creeping onto his lips as he speaks ‘no one has ever said that to me before, i didn’t know how much i needed to hear that, how much i needed you to be the one to tell me that’

‘toru, i’m so sorry no one has told you that before, but i can promise that as long as i am alive, i will continue to remind you that you are real, that you are more than a protector, that you are so much more to me than you know’

‘y/n, you are everything, you are so much more than strong, you are the kindest person i have ever met, your presence always makes me feel as though even my darkest moments have light, you are so intelligent, you are so funny, and your so beautiful’ he says, taking your other hand in his and looking at you with all the love he has been hiding for as long as he has known you.

‘toru, even when you doubt everything else in this world, don’t you ever doubt how much you mean to me, with or without power, you have no idea how important you are to me’ you say, looking at him with so much emotion that he swears his world feels like it’s beautiful again.

‘if there is one thing i am grateful for in my life, it will be knowing you, meeting you, loving you’ he says, hands reaching out to cup your face softly ‘i will always love you, even when you don’t love yourself, even when you don’t love life, know i will always love you’. you look at him, tear falling down your face as you smile, the first real, happy smile you have had in a long time.

‘i will always love you toru, i always have’ you reply, his thumb brushing away your tear as he feels as though his world is slowly putting itself back together.

‘i will always love you y/n’ he says, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to your lips, pulling away as you both smile.

‘i won’t ever let you forget it’

#jjk satoru #gojou satoru x you #satorugojo #gojo angst #jjk #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru hurt #gojo comfort #jjk angst #satoru angst #satoru hurt #hurt/comfort #jjk gojo

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ssareids-coffee · 6 months

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ALL'S FAIR (IN LOVE AND MERGERS) ✩ SATORU GOJO

✴︎ summary: you're not sure what's worse -- being an arranged marriage or being an arranged marriage with the person who used to be your best friend. ✴︎ contents: 18+ only, nsfw, arranged marriage au, gojo and reader are both heirs to large companies, childhood best friends to enemies to lovers, lots of fluff + banter, gojo is down bad, geto makes an appearance, handjobs (f!+m! receiving), oral (f!+m! receiving), creampie, unprotected sex, dom! + sub!gojo, degradation (slut), breeding kink, gojo has a praise kink, semi public sex, office sex, tiny amount of sexting, under the desk oral (m!receiving), pet names (sweetheart, princess, baby), pregnancy mentions ✴︎ wc: 16,381 (why do i do this to myself?)

“Why do you look so down, Princess?” Your eyes flicker up from your book, forcing your expression to stay disinterested — the one emotion Satoru hated, “shouldn’t you share your feelings with your fiancé?”

“Don’t call yourself that,” you snap, and his lips curl at your reaction, “what are you so smug about? You’re stuck in the same position as me,”

“And what’s that?” You close your book, glaring daggers at his all too perfect face.

“Marrying your worst enemy.”

It wasn’t always like this.

Satoru Gojo used to be your friend — your best friend in fact. The fact your families’ companies were rivals often meant you ran in the same social circles more often than not. And it meant more than one boring adult party that the two of you were stuck with each other.

The two of you had become inseparable — attending the same prestigious schools with the most pretentious children, though the two of you were no exceptions. But you liked to think you were.

And you didn’t realize your feelings for Satoru, until someone else had.

“Do you want to hang out on Friday?” You ask, flipping through the channels as the two of you watched TV, looking for something other than the second half of movies and the reruns of shows you didn’t care for.

“I can’t, I’m going to the formal,” he replies, not looking up from his phone, and you pause.

“You’re going to that?” You raise an eyebrow, “we’ve never went,”

“Well I never had someone ask me who I wanted to go with,” his eyes flicker up from his phone, a smirk on his lips, “you jealous?”

Your reply leaves your lips like whiplash, “You wish,” you cross your arms, but you can’t help ask the question burning on your lips, “who are you going with?”

“Akari,” and you scoff, “what?”

“That girl goes out with a new guy every week,” you shake your head, “you’re better off staying at home with me,”

“So you are jealous,” he hums, leaning back on the couch, “if you wanted to go with me, all you had to do was ask, Princess,”

Your cheeks flush, which you make up for in indignancy and sharp words, “Don’t call me that,” the nickname your family affectionately had called you had become Satoru’s favorite thing to call you, “I’m just telling you to be careful — that girl isn’t someone you should trust with your feelings,”

“I think I’ll use my own judgment instead of someone who hasn’t even been on a single date before,” his tone is far too biting and his accuracy is far too sharp — and you can’t stop your face from dropping, and his lips part - regret flashing across his features, “princess—“

“Go home, Satoru,” you rise, brushing past him, “you know the way out,”

“Princess—“ he tries to reach for your hand, but you slap it away. His hand retracts like he’d been burned.

“Please, go,” you open the door for him, and he does, and little do you know that would be one of the last times you spoke.

The day of the formal arrives, the two of you hadn’t seen each other outside of class since that day. But Satoru did see you at the dance that night - on the arm of his former best friend, Suguru — the same one he had a falling out with a year ago. He doesn’t say a word to you, but you don’t miss the hurt in his eyes - but you wonder why it was there in the first place - and why he was acting like you put it there.

It all goes to hell after.

The Gojo Corporation poaches one of your family’s biggest clients in a shady backroom deal, breaking their truce and your family’s trust. Arguments and stress reach a peak over the phone and lines are drawn and metaphorical guns are drawn.

And you and Satoru are caught in the crossfire.

Not that you weren’t firing shots yourself.

It wasn’t until you pulled Satoru into a secluded classroom, and you shut the door behind the two of you. Even with the sunglasses perched on his nose as always, he flinches in the bright light of the sun setting behind you, dipping the classroom in a blazing orange — light sensitivity nearly required him to wear his sunglasses out, but he certainly made a statement in them — though what didn’t he make a statement in?

“What are we going to do about our families?” you chew your lip — you had listened this morning to your father rant about the Gojo family — unkind words to say about them all, even Satoru himself, who your father had treated as a second son — and now he was grilling you about what you had told him about the family business.

“What can we do?” His arms are crossed and his gaze is upwards, “they are going to do what they want,”

You stare at him, your heart cracks, blood rushing in your ears, “Satoru, if this gets worse, we won’t be able to be friends,” you refuse to let your voice break.

“So what? I know the way out, don’t I?” But your heart did break, “I’m sure Suguru could comfort you,”

Your eyes burn, but you can’t, you can’t let him see you cry, “Why are you so upset? You had a date—“

“And mine wasn’t the person who backstabbed me,” he bites back, “what my family did is done, and so are we,” and he doesn’t look back when he leaves.

And it was good — because he didn’t see you cry.

And now you sat with him in your living room, trying to process the fact you would be legally married soon enough.

“Worst enemy? I know you liked to embellish princess, but that seems excessive,” he snorts, “glad to know I haven’t escaped your thoughts these years,”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” and he grins his shit eating grin, and it’s almost as if no time has passed, except the person who sits before you isn’t a seventeen year old with an attitude of a shithead — it’s an adult man (albeit with the same attitude).

“Don’t need to - you already do that for me, baby,” he winks, and you don’t know whether you want to slap him or strangle him. Either way, you wanted him to shut up, “shouldn’t we at least try to make the best of this?”

“The best of what?” You scoff, ready for your veins to burst out of your head, if only to spare you the agony of this conversation, “Gojo, we were best friends a million years ago and then we weren’t and now we’re getting married - all on the whims of our families, so how do we make the best of it?”

He pauses a moment, almost thoughtfully, “I was your best friend?”

And you rise to your feet, “this is impossible,” you brush past him, but he catches you by your wrist, his thumb grazing your pulse.

“Princess, I’m sorry,” he says, and you stop, meeting his gaze reluctantly, his lips part, “that you were so annoying in high school—“

“Fuck you,” and you storm off as he cackles, but you don’t notice the small smile on his lips that stays as he watches you.

And nor do you hear him say, “God, I missed you.”

“This is ridiculous,” you mutter under your breath, as you place back the millionth dress you looked at, “we’re hardly celebrities but we have to make a public appearance?”

Your families wanted the marriage to be portrayed as a love marriage in the media - childhood friends falling in love after reconnecting - the thing of love stories. The thing that would circle the drain on social media on cute threads of meetcutes and what ifs. When in fact, you were being forced on a shopping date with an already well paid and positioned paparazzi ready to take pictures of this charade.

“You may not be, Princess, but I am quite the catch,” Satoru takes the attention in stride, not only of the paparazzi, but the passersby who gawked at the two of you. It was true, Satoru was nearly always listed as an eligible bachelor in far too many of these lists that existed, if not the eligible bachelor, and yet here you were, glued to his side like some taudry accessory.

“So does that mean if I just toss you away, someone else will catch you?” You grumble, and he looks at you over the rim of his sunglasses.

“Like it or not, you caught me,” he flashes you those pearly whites, and you supposed he blinded you as you stumble forward, tripping. But you don’t kiss the pavement — but you almost wish you do. He catches you, his arm around your waist, the other on your shoulder, and his eyes graze over you in a flash of concern, and then amusement, “and I’m not going anywhere this time,”

And you flush, the clicks of cameras in the distance snapping you back to reality, as you right yourself with a fake smile plastered on your lips. You brush his shirt off as lovingly as you can, “And if I go?”

His lips only curl into his obnoxiously charming smile, as he gestures for you to walk on, “I’ll follow, Princess,”

Finally the trip is over, and Satoru is driving the both of you back, “I’m surprised you took a day off for this,” he remarks, “usually you work all week,”

“Well I wasn’t given much of a choice, now was I?” And then you glance at him, furrowing your brow, “how do you know how often I work?”

“What’s the phrase? Keep your enemies close, and your lovers closer?” He gives a wry grin as you scowl at him, “you’re not surprised I kept tabs on you, are you?”

“Well, no,” because you did the exact same. You pinned the blame on late nights and doom scrolling on social media — curiosity killed the cat.

“And now I know you kept tabs on me,” he looks far too satisfied with himself, “I’m flattered,”

“Yeah, yeah,” you wave him off, “it’s not like you’re that interesting to begin with,”

“Sure,” he smirks, and then you glance outside, noticing you were getting further out from home rather than closer.

“Where are we going?” You sit up, glancing around — you didn’t recognize the area.

“Oh, you didn’t think our date was over yet, did you?” his lips curl, his eyes still on the road, “we are just going to a more private location,”

“If you take me to a hotel, I will slap you,” you murmur, and he laughs, a sound that makes your stomach flip.

“I didn’t know a princess’s mind could be in the gutter,” he remarks, his fingers flexing on the wheel, a small infinity tattoo on his ring finger, and your mind really then all but fled to the gutter as you thought what else he could use those fingers for.

“Oh my mind goes a lot of places,” this was growing more dangerous — for your tongue and for your heart.

And he notices your gaze flickering to his hands, and his lips curl, “I think I’d like to familiarize myself with the places your mind goes, Princess,” You flush, “but that’s for a different day.”

“Where are you taking me anyway?”

“We’re almost there, just enjoy the ride,” you eventually pull up to a park, and he leaves the car, opening the door for you, “after you, my lady,”

You slide out of the car, as he shuts the door behind you, and then pulls a basket out of the back, “Is there tape and rope in there?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Didn’t know you were into that,” he winks, as you glare at him, “it’s a picnic basket - this is a nice spot to watch the sunset,”

“You watch sunsets?”

“Only with you,” you roll your eyes.

“Such a dork - are these the lines you use on all your dates? And don’t say only with me,” you add quickly, and he snorts.

“You catch on quick,” and he takes your hand, leading you along, “come on,”

His hand envelops yours, his fingers eventually intertwining with yours, his warmth flooding your body, but you can’t urge yourself to pull away.

A bottle of sparkling cider and a charcuterie board later, the two of you watch the sun begin its descent, blazing colors bleeding into one another.

“Why are you doing this?” You ask, looking over your glass as you sip, “even when we used to hang out, I was the one to bring the snacks,”

“Well times change,” he replies, “plus you’re the one who always stopped me from buying snacks,”

“You always bought only sweets — it was always chocolate, sugar, and desserts,” you roll your eyes, “I see you got over that,”

“Nah, I just decided to buy things I know you like,” and your heart traitorously squeezes, but then he points, “look,” and your gaze falls onto the sunset and you gasp softly.

“It’s beautiful,” you sigh, and you don’t notice Satoru’s gaze on your face, a small smile on his lips.

“It is,” and you look back at him, his eyes shifting to you again.

“You never answered my question,” you say, “why are we doing this?”

“Why wouldn’t we? We’re getting married, Princess, did you forget?” He expertly dodges the question, swiftly leaping over a landmine, but you weren’t one to mince words or hesitate to do a direct assault.

“We’re getting married, it doesn’t mean we have to date,” you tilt your head, “Gojo, tell me—“

“Call me Satoru,” his words are so soft, hesitant even, as if his words could break apart any second if he had spoken them any quieter.

It’s a fragility he doesn’t often grace you with - that’s he’s maybe never given to you, and you don’t wish to break it.

But you’re also scared - scared that this will break yours.

“Satoru,” you whisper, and he smiles — the same smile he’d greet you with when you would meet up after school, the same smile when he’d beat you at whatever game you guys were playing, and the same smile you hadn’t seen in so long, “why are you doing all of this?”

“Is it not obvious?” He’s leaning closer and you only realize that you’re doing the same when your wrist hurts from leaning on your hand.

“Nothing is obvious when it comes to you, Satoru,” his lips warm yours with his breath, and the sun has set - there’s no other explanation for the warmth blooming on your skin other than him—

Ring. Ring. Ring.

His phone ringing sends both of you flinching apart, but his eyes don’t leave you for a lingering moment, before he picks up.

“Hello,” his voice is unwavering even after the moment you shared, you barely hear what he says over the blood thundering in your ears, “yes, we’ll be home shortly. Ok. Bye,”

He turns to look back at you, “My parents were wondering where we went,” and you nod, “we should get back,” and he begins to pack away the things,

“Satoru—“ you start, but he grabs your hands, tugging you forward.

“What?” he smiles, “not ready to part with me yet, princess?”

You scowl, pushing him away, brushing past him to the car, “Forget it,”

And he catches you by your wrist and pulls you back to him, your back against his front, “I don’t want to forget it,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “I—”

And his phone rings again, and he sighs, showing you that it was your father this time, putting his phone on silent, “Our parents have impeccable timing,” and the moment is broken, as the two of you walk back to the car in relative silence, the sun long sunk below the horizon, and the moment along with it.

The wedding comes and goes without much ado — it was a private ceremony done with only your families and a few close family friends. And aside from a photo shoot that was to be “leaked” of the two of you looking far too lovey dovey that wound up circulating the media drain and ended up causing you and Satoru to keep a low profile for a week or two, not much of your life changed. The only thing being that you and Satoru slowly start to move in together, each moving your things into separate bedrooms, not that you’re around enough to even notice a shift as the work piled on due to the merger, only accumulates, and as do your late nights.

You come home again, back to your shared apartment, late at night, shutting the door softly behind you. You slip your shoes off, along with your jacket by the door, before setting your things down. You stretch your sore muscles, your stomach crying for mercy of the deprivation you had put it through today, and you allow it to lead you to the kitchen.

Satoru was surprisingly neat, aside from his own room that was a disaster zone not worth entering. The living spaces were always clean, as was the kitchen (though you had a sneaking suspicion he had hired a cleaning service to specifically tidy up when you were gone (due to the lingering lemony scent every surface had at times). You rummage through the refrigerator as quietly as you could, but not quietly enough as the lights flick on, and you feel akin to a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

“I feel like I’ve seen the mailman more than my own wife this week,” Satoru stands in the doorway, leaning against the frame of the door, a small grin on his lips, but a hint of something else in his eyes — concern? You don’t have the time to decipher the feeling, as your mind chooses to replay the phrase “my wife” on repeat.

“The merger has been killer to deal with — all the diligence requests has buried us,” you grumble, as you grab a box of cereal off the top of the refrigerator and the milk from the inside, and he’s holding a bowl and a spoon, “thanks,” as you reach for it, he holds it away from you.

“You know there’s something called delegating that you should try sometime, princess,” he says, tilting his head, “otherwise, you’re likely to run yourself into the ground,”

“It sounds like you care,” he puts down the bowl and spoon, grabbing the cereal and milk from you, and fixing a bowl for you, as you rub your eyes, sitting on the stool by the island.

His lips curl, “Who said I didn’t?”

You lay on the counter, staring up at him, “Didn’t know my husband could be anything but annoying,” and you enjoy the way his eyebrows shoot up, and it may have been your tired eyes, but you swore a small pink flush settled his way onto his cheeks, “cute,” you mumble, the word escaping you before you could stop it.

“What?” his eyes snap to yours, but he only finds them closed, the soft snores from your lips told him you weren’t pretending, as he stares at you, biting his lip, before sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose, “what are you doing to me, princess?” he murmurs.

And the next morning when you wake, you find yourself tucked into bed, as you roll over, to find your alarms had been turned off, and you were far too late to several meetings you had that morning.

You jolt up, before you find a note stuck to your shirt, you pause in your panic, to peel it off and read it:

Canceled your meetings for today and had your staff handle the ones they could deal with. You’re taking a break. You need it. - Satoru.

You wanted to protest, but even as you willed yourself to try and check your email, your body was screaming in agreement with Satoru, and you sighed, lying back down in bed, as you drifted into a dreamless sleep, with the note still in your hand.

~~~~~

“Gojo, get back in bed,” you cross your arms in front of his doorway, “you’re sick,”

“I’m fine,” he pouts, his normally pale skin flushed with a red tinge that gave away his fever, his eyes bloodshot from a restless night, and yet he still looked as perfect as ever, if not a bit rumpled from his askew hair and ruffled clothes, “I have to—”

“Rest,” you say, gently pushing him backwards towards his bed, “you need rest. You made me rest, and now it’s your turn,”

“But—”

“Satoru,” and the use of his name stops him in his tracks, as his knees buckle as his legs hit the end of his bed, “please?”

His resistance crumbles, “Princess, I’m fine—” and you press your forehead to his, making his breath catch, your face far too close far too fast.

“You’re burning up,” you ease him back into bed, as you roll your sleeves up, “will you be okay? I’m going to run out and get some supplies - have you taken any medicine?”

He shakes his head, “You can send out someone,” he says, reaching for his phone, but you grab it, “Princess-“

“I’m texting everyone that you’re sick and that you can’t make it in for the next two days while you recover,” you pocket his phone, putting it on silent, “consider this payback,” and you’re pulling on your jacket, “and I’m going to get you some things. I don’t need to send someone out. Do you want anything? I can’t get anything sweet because it will make your cough worse, but is there anything that you want?”

He shakes his head, as you snap your fingers and head out of the room, before returning with cold medicine, “I’ll give you this for now, and then I’ll grab some more while I’m out,”

You pour the medicine into the cup, and he sits up as best he could, reaching for the medicine cup, but you cup his chin, feeding it to him. He feels like his body is burning hotter from your touch than it is the fever, “I have to make sure you drink all of it, you can’t leave half of it in the cup like you did when we were kids,”

“You remember that?” he mumbles, as you help him lie down again, your hands gentle as you help lean back, and you tilt your head.

“I remember every ridiculous thing you did,” you snort, as you check to make sure you got everything — phone, wallet, keys — “just rest here, and call me if you need anything, ok?” his eyes are already starting to droop, heavy with sleep, and he gives a small nod.

And he catches you by your wrist, “Do you have to go?” he mumbles, pulling your hand close to his face, “I don’t want you to go,” his words slur, and he’s asleep in a moment, his hand still clutching yours to his face, lips brushing against your palm.

Heat flares up your cheeks, as you stand, motionless, his soft snores filling the room, as you manage to tug your hand away, and you stand over him, his mouth in an adorable pout, as sweat glistened on his forehead, white locks sticking to the damp skin. You leave for a moment to grab a cold compress for his forehead, and you come back, brushing his hair back to place the compress on. He shivers ever so slightly, but you just rub his head slowly, and he drifts back into sleep.

“I’ll be right back,” you whisper, and you wonder, how often has Satoru been cared for by maids or employees rather than his family? How often had they passed the buck of caring for their son to others as if it was more of a chore than a privilege to take care of someone they loved.

You leave his phone on video call with yours so you can keep an eye on him as he sleeps, even if you were going down the street, you didn’t want to leave him alone completely. Instead of music, you listened to the cacophony of his soft snores and shifting of his sheets. You grabbed the things you needed - medicine, supply for meals, vitamin water, vitamin c supplements, and anything else you could think of.

You return, door shutting softly behind you as you hang up the call, and set everything down on the counter. You poke your head into Satoru’s room to find him still fast asleep, and you remove the cold compress, going to replace it with a new one, but his hand catches yours as it brushes your forehead, and he mumbles your name.

And you flush — were you sure you weren’t getting sick at this point?

You sigh, running your fingers through his hair, “You’re as touchy as you were when we were kids,” and he was — there wasn’t a moment that Satoru wasn’t all over you before the ages of puberty — holding hands, hugging, even laying on top of you — but it was innocent. But even as you got older, it was poking, it was a leg over yours, it was grabbing your wrist instead of your hand.

And now, your hand was dwarfed by his, consuming your wrist and hand with his own, and it was so warm — though exacerbated by his fever. And you couldn’t help but want to lace your fingers through his. But — you pulled your hand away and replace his cold compress — you couldn’t afford thoughts like that.

Not now.

You cooked soup for him, filled with vegetables and nutrients that he clearly did not get enough of, made freshly squeezed orange juice, and put the supplements you wanted him to take on the tray you had found in the kitchen.

You washed your hands, as you start to clean up, your back to his room, and you hear Satoru say your name.

You turn and see him in the doorway, “What are you doing?”

“I should be asking you that,” he murmurs, rubbing his eyes, “what’s all this?”

“Lunch,” you walk over, waving him back into bed, “you need to rest,”

“Did you make me lunch?” he asks slowly, and you help him back into bed, as he frowns, “you didn’t have—”

“You’re my husband, Satoru,” you say, tilting your head, “I’m going to take care of you and not let you work yourself to the bone while you have a cold,”

And his lips curl at the words slowly, “Your husband,” he repeats, as if the words were foreign to him, and your cheeks flush as your words that were embarrassing enough to say linger in the air, “thank you,” he mumbles, as you nod, trying to calm your utterly burning cheeks before entering with the tray.

Satoru sits in bed still, more coherent than a few minutes before, a small smile on his lips as you enter his view, and you place the tray carefully on his bed, “Will you feed me?” And your eyes flit up to his innocent baby blues full of skies that you couldn’t say no to — and he knew that, “please?”

And now you’re feeding him, your lips carefully blowing on the hot soup as you spoon fed him, and he takes each one, “is it good?”

He nods, “It is, I didn’t know you could cook. The last thing I remember you making me was a microwave brownie that you burned,” and you rolled your eyes.

“That was because you told me to microwave it for too long,” you pout, and he laughs, sending him into a coughing fit, “karma,” and he scowls at you, before his lips split into a grin, “what?”

“Must have been pretty good in my past life,” he says, as you blow on another spoonful, “to end up with a pretty little wife like you, Princess,”

And you nearly drop the spoon, a few droplets slipping from the utensil, as he makes you flustered for the eighteenth time today — “Satoru,” you chide, and you’re not even sure what you are chiding him for — his word on a loop in your mind, “i think you’re high on cold medicine, or your fever,”

You don’t think he had ever called you pretty before.

And he leans forward pressing his forehead to yours, “I have no fever right now,” he whispers, his eyes glancing at the tray, “and I haven’t taken my cold medicine yet,”

Your words catch in your throat, and you’re swallowing thickly, as your eyes drift to his lips and back again, “Toru,” and you can’t lean away from him, he’s pulling you in, like he always did.

But then he pulls back, his cheeks flushed, “I think I should lie down,” and you blink, as you nod hastily.

“Of course,” you grab the tray and flee, leaving his medicine and water on the bedside table, heart thumping against your ribs and blood rushing to your cheeks.

And you don’t hear him grumble, “If only I wasn’t sick.”

After Satoru gets better, you barely see him. It feels empty in the house without his presence. You had grown accustomed to his loud, obtrusive presence, the clothes half thrown in the laundry basket, his snacks stacked up in the pantry and sometimes on the counters, and his cologne wafting through the halls. It seems all of that has faded with time, as he does his best to spend his time at work, and away from you.

After the billionth time of this, you get a phone call from his colleague, Nanami, asking for you to come and fetch him. You furrow your brow as he texts you the address of a bar near his work, and you arrive to find him passed out at a table, drink glasses and small plates littered the tabletop, his pale skin flushed, as he snored slightly as he slept.

His colleague too was flushed, but still sat with drink in hand looking utterly irritated and bemused, “How much did he drink?”

“Maybe two drinks?” and you raise an eyebrow, “he’s a lightweight, but he likes to pretend he isn’t,” he snorts, shaking his head, “did you two have a fight?”

You tilt your head, as you check on him, fingers brushing over his skin — he was so warm from the alcohol, “No, why do you ask?”

And Satoru is mumbling your name, again and again, pouting, “Is that you, my wife?” you flush, and that was your cue to get him out of there. Nanami helps you get him to his work car, luckily that came equipped with a driver, and you slide in beside him, as he dozes, his head drifting to your shoulder. His breath is warm against your neck, as he nestles into the soft skin of your nape, and you can feel his lips move, only catching your name between soft sighs and snores.

“Satoru,” you mutter, brushing his hair from his eyes, “what did you do?”

The driver helps you get him inside, and you’re left with him, his body leaning against yours on the couch, as you rouse him, “Satoru, wake up,” your hands cup his cheeks, and his eyes flutter open blearily.

You can still smell the scent of alcohol on his breath — and you know it’s sweet from the scent that drifts from him. Sometimes you wonder if he would taste sweet with how much sugar he consumes, but you brush that thought to the back of your head, as he finally speaks.

“Are you a dream?” he murmurs, and you have to suppress your laugh at his puppy dog stare.

“Don’t think so, Satoru,” you pinch his cheek lightly, “see? I’m real,”

He smiles, so gentle that it almost takes you aback, “Too real,” his hand slides over yours, flattening it against his cheek, “your hand is so soft, just like when we were kids, and we’d always hold hands anywhere we went,”

You swallow thickly, wondering if your cheeks were hotter than his were from the alcohol, “Well my family hasn’t sold me into manual labor yet, so they’ll stay that way,” and his eyes widen almost comically.

“I wouldn’t let them do that,” he says, almost every other word slurred, “can’t do that to my wife,” and your traitorous heart squeezes, despite itself, despite everything telling you that it didn’t mean anything — that he was drunk — and the million other reasons to brush it away, your heart does what it does best — takes it to heart, “I missed you so much,”

And he’s burying his face in your shoulder, warm breath against your skin making you shiver as you hold him gently, “then why have you been avoiding me?” He’s mumbling into your shoulder now, as you can’t help but laugh, “Stop, you’re tickling me.”

And his stare lifts and settles upon you, stopping your breath in its tracks, “I didn’t want to avoid you, I just was…” he mumbles something incoherent, “I couldn’t face you,”

“Why?” and it’s objectively cute the way he pouts, his face scrunching up like a child, his brow adorably furrowed, as he mutters under his breath slurred words you can’t make out, “let’s get you to bed — if you promise not to avoid me anymore,” you hold up a finger to his face.

He nods, lips still in the same pout, “promise,” he murmurs, as you help him into bed, but as you do, he grabs you, tugging you into bed with him with a yelp, his arms trapped you against him, as his face snuggles into your back, “stay,”

Your skin burns at his touch, his face buried into your back, his arms wrapped impossibly around you, “Satoru—”

“Please?” and the resistance you have crumbles, as you sigh, relaxing as best you could into his touch, “thank you, Princess,” he mumbles something else you can’t make out, before falling asleep.

And you bite your lip, ignoring how your skin feels under his touch — how were you ever going to sleep now?

But you do.

Satoru wakes with a slightly pounding head, a small groan caught in the back of his throat, as he stirs at the bright sunlight streaming in, his eyes fluttering awake to find you. His breath catches, as he stares at you. Your mouth slightly ajar, you softly snore as you sleep, your head resting against his arm, and he swallows thickly, as memories of last night trickle in.

And he nearly groans. He had avoided you to stop himself, to hold himself back from embarrassing himself, and he had gone and pulled you into bed with him after getting drunk. How pathetic was it that it only took you referring to him as your husband for all his walls to come crumbling down? Not that those walls ever stood a chance against you — it was easy for him to pull away from everyone, as if he had a barrier around him, stopping anything from coming near. But you — you were one thing that could penetrate his infinity — and the one thing he wanted to be infinite, if only for him.

His cheeks burn at his revelations and he can only be thankful you’re still asleep as he stares at you — god, he had almost let it slip twice last night. He had mumbled it twice, but from what he remembered, you hadn’t made out the words.

His cheeks burned, god he had said the words twice, and you didn’t even hear him, but the words had left his lips. And how many years had he been waiting to say them?

His fingers caress your cheek, making sure you were still asleep before he said them for a third time, “I love you.”

“How many social events must be inflicted upon us?” you mutter, pressed next to Satoru at the bar, as Satoru sips a soda instead of the alcohol they offered — if only to avoid the disaster that was the last time. But still, the lack of alcohol only makes your touch worse without its dulling effects, “and why did we need to go to this?”

“C’mon sweetheart, it’s not so bad,” Satoru smiles, his eyes skimming over your new suit that you had donned for the occasion, “I like seeing you all dressed up,”

“Well I rather be dressed down at home,” and he raises an eyebrow and you flush, “i mean in a t-shirt and shorts, you absolute perv,”

“Whatever you say, princess,” and you’re too busy elbowing him to notice who's walking over, until you hear your name.

You spot Satoru’s eyes narrow, his lips pursed, as you spot Suguru holding a hand up in greeting, patented grin on his lips, “Yo!”

“Suguru, it’s good to see you,” you greet, as he sweeps you up in a hug, and you shoot a look at Satoru, nudging him to be polite at the very least.

“Satoru, long time no see,” Suguru says, and Satoru plasters a fake smile on his lips.

“It has been,” and the three of you make pleasant small talk about your work — Suguru’s family was in a business adjacent to the work your families did.

“I heard about the merger your companies are doing, how have preparations been?” you open your mouth to answer, but Satoru gets to it first, his arm curling around your waist.

“It’s been going well, our marriage was the first step after all, wasn’t it, baby?” and you flush as Satoru does, doing your best not to glare at him.

“It was,” you smile, as Suguru raises his eyebrows.

“I hadn’t heard you both had married — congratulations,”

And then you’re beckoned by your family, and you slip away for a moment, going to speak to them about one thing or another, leaving Satoru and Suguru alone.

“It’s too bad we lost touch all these years,” Satoru sips at his drink.

“You don’t have to say that, Satoru,” Suguru replies, his grin melting away, “I know part of the reason was the business with our families companies, but I also know that it was personal,” and Satoru follows his eyes to you, as you laugh at something your mother said, “how has married life been treating you both?”

And Satoru glares, his grip tight around his glass, “Is your interest personal?”

“It’s not, but I see that you still haven’t been honest with each other,” he smiles over the lip of his drink, “was this marriage arranged by your families?” and Satoru’s silence was enough to confirm it, “well you should be careful, a marriage is a fragile thing, especially without love,”

“Is that a threat?” and Suguru’s dark irises meet his, full of mirth.

“No, just an observation, Satoru,” and you make your re-appearance, looking between the pair, sensing the tension, as your hand curls around Satoru’s, “It was lovely seeing you both. I hope to see more of you.”

And with that he’s gone, “What was that about?” you ask slowly, and Satoru can’t meet your gaze, only sipping his soda, “Satoru?”

“It’s nothing, princess, don’t worry about it,” and you tilt your head, your brow furrowed.

“That’s it,” you sigh, as you glance between the two of them, Suguru’s gaze still lingering on the two of you, “I know what this is about,” you declare, stepping ever closer to Satoru, your fingers brushing at his shoulder, sending his heart into a gallop.

“Princess—” your hand is sliding up his neck, brushing at his undercut, and your lips curl.

“I didn’t know you had an undercut,” and he can’t form words to respond to you, as you tug him closer, your lips were so close now, “it’s kind of hot,” and his mouth is so dry, his eyes can’t help but flicker down to your lips again, as you lean forward, pulling his head closer, closer, closer—

And you kiss him, it's barely a brush at first, but then you pull him in again, and he can taste the wine on your lips now, as your lips meet, his eyes fluttering shut as his hand slides to cup your face, the other around your waist. And finally you part, small pants leaving your lips, as your fingers toy with the hair resting on the back of his neck, smiling at him, as if you had done this a million times before.

And he wanted to do it a million times more. His fingers trace the length of your jaw, delighting in the shiver you give as he touches you, and wondering what other noises he could pull from you.

“Is he still watching?” you whisper, as you smooth over his collar, and he blinks, his eyes following yours to Suguru, who glances at the two of you before looking away, “think we convinced him?”

And his heart sinks just as high as it had soared, “what?” he murmurs, confused.

“He suspected us, right?” you continue with the phony smile on your lips, the heated lust in your gaze, and your soft touches — and it was all enough to break him.

But he doesn’t. He’s Satoru Gojo — he can’t be allowed to break.

So he gives a smile instead, “Yeah, I think we convinced him.”

He can’t help be quiet on the drive home, and he senses your unease, fidgeting in the seat beside him, your attempts to fill the silence falling on deaf ears, and you eventually stop trying, settling to look out of the window instead, until the two of you pull inside your driveway.

You both head inside, and the door shuts behind you, and he watches you struggle to take off your heels, the buckle not cooperating, as you lift your leg to undo it.

But then he’s kneeling before you, undoing your heels for you, as you stammer, “No, Gojo, you don’t have to—”

But his touch is gentle as he helps you out of your heels, one by one, his fingers brushing against your ankles, and then he rises, and for a split second, you forgot how tall he really was.

“No, I want to, because you’re my wife,” and his fingers brush against your jaw. “And I want your thoughts to be of me when I touch you, and not of someone else,” and he tilts your chin up, thumb dragging against your lips before he kisses you.

It was gentle but insistent — and far, far too fleeting, as he pulls away, “and I’ve told you before — I’m your husband, call me Satoru.”

And with that he’s gone, leaving you speechless and alone in your entryway.

You can’t sleep. For several nights.

You replay the moment over and over, the kiss, his words, and all of it.

What the fuck. Were you really up all night because of Satoru Gojo? You lay on your stomach, kicking your feet in frustration as you bury your hot face in your pillow. Your husband was going to be the death of you.

And especially with tomorrow.

Satoru’s family was hosting an event to announce the merger, and you stood in your bathroom, getting ready. You had opted for a baby blue dress that Satoru had picked for you when he had insisted on taking you shopping. He had winked and said you could wear his gaze this way. And you had only rolled your eyes at the time, but now it felt you could feel his eyes upon you.

“You look beautiful,” and you whirl around to find him standing in your doorway, a small smile on your lips, and you flush. It doesn’t go unnoticed, “is that all it takes to embarrass you now, Princess? I used to have to work a lot harder,”

You glare at him, “Shut up,” and your eyes flick to his untied tie, and it’s unspoken, as you walk over to tie his tie for him, “how did you even tie this the day of the formal if you don’t know how to?”

“I didn’t wear one,” he shrugs, his attention making you mess up the knot twice, “I only went to make you jealous anyway,”

Your fingers pause, as your eyes meet, “What?”

“I don’t want to play games anymore, Princess,” the back of his fingers brush against your cheek, “or at least, if I’m going to play, I’m going to play to win,” and you continue tying his tie, if only to distract yourself from your stomach doing flips, “do you know how it feels to want someone for so long only to end up married, but it’s not either of your choice?” And you swallow, not daring to look at him, “because I do.”

“Satoru,” your hands are shaking now, “I-“

“I don’t expect an answer, I don’t expect anything to change,” he adjusts his tie as you finish, turning his collar down, his blue button up matching your dress perfectly, “but I wanted you to know where I stood, and know wherever you are,” his gaze rakes over your form, the same color as the dress than clung to your skin, “I’ll always be here for you,”

“Satoru—“ but he gets a call — as always with impeccable timing, his parents were asking when they would be arriving. He hangs up shortly after, offering his arm with a smile.

“Shall we?” And you take his arm, ignoring the flip your heart does when his arm curls around yours.

The drive over is uneventful, but not the same can be said for the event itself. The merger event was being held at Satoru’s childhood home — the home Satoru had grown up in and around — and never wanted to be at.

“Are you okay?” you ask, your arm still curled around Satoru’s arm, as you glance at him, his shoulders tense and lips tight, before your concern makes the tension melt away a moment, rolling off his shoulders like snow on a spring day.

“I’m fine,” and you’re unconvinced, “just this place is like time has stood still,” he chuckles, his eyes finding the place where the two of you had cracked the chandelier fucking around with a ball inside, “look, still there,”

You snort, “I’m surprised your mother never noticed,”

“She did, she gave me hell for it,” he sips his drink, “I just didn’t tell you,”

“Why?”

“There was a lot I didn’t tell you,” his eyes snap to yours, his pain almost too visceral as he glances around the room he had grown up in — and you could feel him in this room, the ghost of his past roaming the halls, “why do you think I spent so much time at your house?”

“Because of my incredible company?” you half-joke, lips forced into a small smile, but he laughs, rolling his eyes.

“That too,” he hums, his fingers tracing up and down against your wrist sending a wave of heat down your spine.

“Well, you always have an escape now, don’t you?” you intertwine your fingers, “our home is always graced with the presence of your wife,”

He grins, the first actual smile you had seen all evening, “How lucky for you that it’s also graced with the presence of your incredibly handsome husband,”

And you open your mouth to respond, before Satoru’s father interrupts, his hand on Satoru’s shoulder, making him stiffen, “Son,” and his icy blue eyes slide to you, “and my daughter, would you mind if I steal my son for a moment?” it always struck you how different his eyes were from Satoru — the coldness as opposed to the warmth.

You glance at Satoru, and he gives a slight nod, “No, of course not,” you step away, as he pulls Satoru into a side room, and you linger nearby for him, mingling as best you can, when Satoru emerges, eyes downcast and fists clenched, “Satoru-“

“I’m okay,” he plasters on an easy smile, “it’s fine—“

“We’re leaving,” you grab his hand, “let’s go,” and he’s staring at you, as you drag him from the party, wordless.

“But your parents, my parents—”

“Have done enough for us already,” you say, and the two of you walk to the car in silence, “I can drive—”

“It’s ok, I got it,” and you both shut the doors, as he begins to drive. The ride home is quiet, and you glance at him here and there, but you hold your tongue, “you’re not going to ask?”

“It’s your dad - do I need to ask?” You scoff, “It may has been years but I know he’s nothing but a bully — especially to you,”

You may have been young, but you remembered the phone calls Satoru would get, the lectures about his potential and responsibilities as the next heir, the scoldings he’d get for anything less than perfect. And you remembered the look he had the next day — the same one he had when he had come out of that room.

And you couldn’t protect him then, but you could do it now.

He sighs as he pulls the car into the driveway, “You don’t deserve that, Toru,”

“Then what do I deserve?” And he meets your gaze with glassy eyes, and you give a small smile, your fingers reaching for him, brushing along his jaw.

“Love,” and you lean across the gap of the console, across the line you had drawn, across the misunderstandings you had, and you chose him. Your fingers cup his cheek, drawing him close, as you hear his breathe hitch, “can I—”

“You don’t need to ask me even once, Princess,” and you kiss him, your lips grazing his again and again, until your lips finally slide against each other, deepening it as he presses himself against you, hand bearing against the armrest between the two of you. And you can taste the sweet taste of the strawberry dessert that he all but inhaled at the party, the hint of the soda he drank instead of wine, and something that tasted utterly and perfectly of him.

“Toru,” you murmur, but his lips keep finding yours, and you can’t breathe much less think, “I—”

He silences you with another kiss, his fingers finding purchase on the back of your neck as he tugs you impossibly closer, before his lips are tracing a path down your jaw.

“What was that, sweetheart?” he smiles against your skin, “you what?”

“You’re insufferable, you’re endlessly frustrating, and I swear I want to murder you at least twice a day,” and he smiles, as you gasp as his teeth graze your pulse, “but you’re also my best friend, and I—“ you make him meet your eyes, fingers cupping his chin, ocean blue eyes drowning you with their gaze, “I love you,”

And he blinks ever so slowly, before his lips curl into the most beautiful smile you had seen, before he’s kissing you again, as you gasp, “Toru—”

“I’m never going to stop now, Princess,” he grins endlessly, as he presses his forehead to yours, dragging a thumb down your kiss ruined lips, “waited too long for you, but I’d wait a million years to do that again,”

“So should I make you wait?” you tease, and he’s looking like a kicked puppy, pouting and wide eyed, before he’s pressing butterfly kisses to your face, and you’re laughing, “I’m just kidding, baby—”

And he pauses, “‘Baby?’” and his grin is a million watt, as he kisses you again, “never thought I’d see the day you’d call me a pet name,”

Your noses brush as you both laugh, “Well, you are a big baby,” and he pouts again, and you kiss them, “but you’re my baby,”

And you barely remember how you manage to stumble into your home. Frantic touches and hurried kisses and fumbling keys. As soon as the door slams shut, he has you pressed against it, fingers busy with undoing your buttons, as he grins against your mouth.

“Know how long I wanted you? How long I dreamt of this?” he bites your bottom lip, “had to call you my wife before i could call you mine — thought about you dating Suguru, about all the times I wanted to lean over during our movie nights as kids and just kiss you — and how much I regretted it,”

“So you admit you’ve been pining for me,” you gasp as his teeth drag against your neck now, biting and sucking, as your fingers thread through his white locks, “Satoru,” you moan, biting your lip.

“Judging by that moan, I’m not the only one,” he smiles cheekily, his hands sliding down your back to rest at the back of your thighs, large palms and thick fingers pressing through the all too thin tulle of your dress, “can’t wait to see how fuckin’ wet you are for me, Princess.”

You gasp at his vulgar words, a rush of heat that leaves your legs shaking under his touch, “Now whose mind is the gutter?” You tease, your fingers tugging at his tie, unfurling the knot.

“Always has been when it’s come to you, want to make this perfect princess filthy,” he coos, and he’s pulling you up against the door, your hands wrapped around his neck, “wanna make my beautiful little wife scream my name, don’t I?”

“Toru—“ you gasp as his teeth graze along your chest, tugging the neckline of your dress impossibly low, “you’re going to rip it—“ and he does, pulling the fabric apart with ease, “what the fu—“ and he’s swallowing your swears with his tongue.

“I’ll buy you another,” he grins, “in fact I’ll buy you any amount you want, as long as you keep letting me do this,”

And he’s peeling the dress off of you, dress falling to the floor in a shamble of tulle, and your skin flushes at the air hitting your bare skin, and shivers at the feeling of his sharp breath against your neck.

“How are you so fucking perfect?” he sighs, burying his face in the nape of your neck, pressing butterfly kisses down your collarbone, “I should get an award for patience — not being able to touch you, to kiss you, but living with you?”

His fingers are skimming down your underwear now, snapping the waistband against your skin, you gasp, “Fuck, Toru,” you whimper, “thought you’d talk less during this,” your fingers are undoing his shirt now.

“Oh I can think of a few things that could shut me up,” his lips curl deviously, and you’re slipping his shirt off his shoulders, your lips pressing to his collarbone.

“I don’t think you’d even shut up from that,” as he shivers when your teeth graze his soft skin, “I think you’ll only whine more,”

And his gaze is hot as his eyes meet yours again, as he grasps at your thighs and picks you up, “let’s see who’s the one whining at the end of this,” you squeal, grasping into his shoulders, as he carries you into his bedroom, as he settles you down on his bed. His eyes raking over you, panting and disheveled, he drags his thumb down your bottom lip, “can’t believe you’re all mine, Princess,”

“Satoru,” you’re reaching for him, but he pins your hand to the bed, “wha—“

“Patience, baby,” he purrs, as he presses his lips to your wrist, “let me enjoy you,”

He’s so pretty it’s unfair - the way his breath hits your skin steals yours, pretty pink lips parted as he runs his tongue over them, the same ache between your legs longing for that tongue between them. But it leaves you with so little of the patience he asks you to have — especially after over a decade of this in the making.

And your impatience is evident, you suppose, by the pout on your lips, and he laughs, “Want a kiss, baby?”

You don’t have the time to say you want much more than a kiss, as he humors you with a kiss, lips teasing you with their sweet taste, and you don’t fail to notice his smile as you lean up into his touch. And suddenly his hands brush down your bare sides, squeezing your hips, and you’re gasping, “Feel good, Princess? We’ve barely started—“

“You keep teasing me and I’ll make you regret it,” you grumble, between breathless kisses, the bite of your words dampened by the soft pants that leave your lips, “Toru, I swear—“

And his thumb presses against the wet patch on your underwear, flimsy layer of soaked fabric barely doing a thing to hide your arousal, “Not acting like a good little girl for me,” he tuts, as you keen against his touch, gasping as you throw your head back as he grinds his fingers against your puffy clit, “all it took was one touch to have you so pliant, huh? Should’ve done this a long time ago,”

“Stop,” you whine, and his grin only grows larger with such self satisfaction, you don’t know if your lust addled brain wants you to strangle his neck or his cock, “please, just—“

“Just what?” And his fingers are breaching past your underwear, just barely touching the outer lips of your cunt, “come on, Princess, use your big girl words, or are you already fucked stupid before I’ve barely touched you?”

“Motherfuck—“

“I will be one once I get my needy little wife pregnant, won’t I?” And his long fingers finally tug down your underwear — the wet schlick of the sticky fabric hitting the floor make him drag his teeth over those beautiful lips, “but we got plenty of time for that, after all,” his fingers tease the outer lips of your throbbing pussy, “practice makes perfect,”

And he sinks a long finger knuckle deep — and a whine crawls its way out of your throat, his fingers were thicker than yours were — and so much better. His thumb teases your clit in tight circles as he begins to tease your walls, reaching deep, deep, deeper, your slick starting to drip onto his palm, “God, you’re soaking me, Princess,” and your hips can’t resist the urge to grind against his touch, “oh, and where’s that mouth now?” you can barely see much less talk, words failing as he begins to stretch you out - his other large palm rested against your thigh, keeping your legs nice and spread for him.

He’s grinning, he sinks another finger into you, teasing your walls apart, beginning to finger fuck you in earnest, “my mouthy girl just needed to be fucked right? Didn’t she?” And all you can hear are the filthy sounds of your cunt, as his fingers piston in and out, “nothing to say, Princess?” And he spanks your pussy, making you yelp, a whine leaving your throat, “and you thought I’d be whiny, look at you now, baby,” his fingers cup your chin to force your glassy eyes to meet his darkened blues, “such a good fucked out wife for me,”

And a third finger joining right as he brushed against a spot that had you seeing stars as his thumb bullied your clit, eyes rolling back as he did, and he’s grinning, “my perfect princess and her perfect little pussy,”

You came with his name on your lips, panting and shaking as he held you steady, his fingers dripping with your release, as he pulled away, watching your cunt twitch around nothing, aching for his fingers.

You're coming down from your high, chest rising and falling, as you watch him gather your release on his fingers, toying with your cunt, before he sucks them clean, “Fuck,” you whimper, as he licks and cleans himself of your cum, “Toru-“

“Fuck, baby, how’ve I resisted tasting you for so long?” And he’s bending down as he noses your thighs, making your hips jolt, still sensitive from your orgasm as he deeply inhaled, tip of his tongue darting out to lick your release from your thighs, “smell as sweet as you taste,” he hums, your legs trying to close, but his palms keep them spread, “can’t keep a man from his vices, can we baby?”

And his tongue teases your cum that pooled from your orgasm, the tip hot and wet as it tastes it, “tastes when better coming from this filthy princess cunt,” he grins against your thigh, teeth grazing your skin, making you lurch.

“T-Toru, please,” fuck you hated how needy you sounded, but you needed more — but he’s leaning away, pressing his cheek against the soft plush of your thigh.

“Need you to do something me first, sweetheart,” and his fingers are drawing teasing infinities on your thighs, “tell me how much you want me,”

“Fuck you,” you groan, “I know what you’re gonna say,” you add, cutting off his snappy retort of “I’m trying to,” “I want you, Satoru, please, I’ve wanted this for too long,” and your voice grows more teasing, “how long is my husband going to keep me waiting?”

And his eyes darken, the slight flush on his cheeks growing deeper, as his mouth presses a wet kiss to your sopping pussy, “good girl, think you deserve a reward,” and he’s manhandling your thighs, spreading them wide, as he buries his face in your cunt, “such a good little wife deserves to be eaten out,”

And eating is exactly what he does - you had only seen Satoru eat sweets with the same voracity he devoured you, pressing his thick fingers into your thighs as he splayed you out as his mouth pressed wet kisses to your dripping lips. His hot tongue drags up the length of your cunt, “best fucking thing I’ll ever taste, know what my last meal will be,” he’s murmuring against you, making you twitch, as he looks up at you with half lidded eyes and saliva and slick covered lips, “awww my pretty pussy begging to be filled? Well I can do that for you, baby,” and he’s burying his tongue in your messy hole.

The moan that leaves your lips leaves his cock harder and hurting, he didn’t know you could make such a lewd noise, and he couldn’t wait to make you make it again and again. He’s making out with your pussy at this mouth, your hips doing their best to grind against him, desperate for more, more, more.

And your fingers find his shoulders first, before sliding up to his hair, pressing him further against you, “you’re so fucking cute,” he murmurs, as he spreads your folds with his thumbs before tongue fucking you. His tongue teases and abuses your walls, deeper and deeper, before he pulls back to flick his tongue over your clit, making you moan even louder, “neighbors are gonna hear you at this rate, baby,” but he only sucks at your clit, harshly, “oh well, they know we’re newlyweds,” he’s humming as his ears hear your broken whines and pants, body tensed up against his.

And you’re so wet now, your slick drips down his jaw, mixed with his spit, “you’re all mine now, baby, can’t live without tasting you now—“ and he groans when your hips buck into his mouth again, feeling your walls twitch, “I know you’re close, Princess, tell me how good it feels,”

“S’good, Toru, I can’t—“ you’re pulling at his soft white locks now, making him grunt, and you fall apart, back arching as you cum as all you can hear are the squelching sounds of his tongue and mouth as he continues to eat you out through your orgasm.

And you’re twitching under him as he sucks up every bit of your cum, “so fucking good for me,” he’s finally pulling himself from your messy pussy, “can’t wait to feel you around me, should’ve known you have a little princess cunt,”

And he’s licking his lips and chin clean, as you watch him with half lidded eyes, still panting, as your eyes skim down his body, his jacket had been thrown aside at some point, but his now wrinkled shirt is only messily untucked from his dress pants, and disheveled was too good of a look on him, but you rather see those clothes on the floor of your bedroom, “you’re still annoyingly dressed,” you manage between breaths, still aching from his ministrations, “strip,”

He’s raising an eyebrow, a wicked grin on his lips, “So demanding for someone who was moaning my name a second ago,” but you pull yourself up, supporting yourself on a shaky arm while you use the other to tug on his tie, smashing his lips to yours.

You unfurl the very tie you tied, fingers flying to unbutton his shirt, “Made me feel so good, baby,” and now you were kneeling in front of him, your release slipping down your thighs, as you slipped his shirt off his shoulders, tossing it aside, heated eyes raking over his bare chest, tongue running over your lips, “only fair if I repay the favor,”

You’re undoing his belt for him, pulling it free from the loops, as your hand grazes his noticeable bulge in his suit pants, “surprised you haven’t ripped through,” you squeeze lightly, making his hips jerk, as he pouts all too cutely — and now you knew why he always teased you, “didn’t you tell me to have patience, love?”

“Your husband is running low on that at the moment, never been one to be patient, sweetheart,” he’s gritting his teeth, as you slip his pants off leaving him only in boxers.

Your eyes are glued to his erection, visible through the damp front of his boxers, wet with his precum, “so fuckin’ big, even better than I thought,” you say almost with reverence, and his lip quivers at the praise, a quiet groan leaving his throat. You raise an eyebrow, “like to be praised, baby boy?”

And he swallows, adam's apple bobbing, sweat on his forehead from his treatment of you, but a red flush deepens on his skin, “Princess,” it’s half a warning and half a plea—and morphs into a whimper as your fingers tease the head of his cock through his boxers, rubbing his precum into the fabric, “f-fuck, s’good with those hands, sweetheart,”

“Imagine how much better it’d be with your boxers out of the way,” you say leaning down and licking at the tip through the sticky fabric, as his head falls back with a soft moan, “can’t wait to feel this between my legs,” as you kiss the clothed tip, two fingers slipping in only to snap the waistband of the boxers against his skin, and he’s biting back a moan, a pout on his kiss ruined lips, “god, you’re so pretty,”

Another noise in the back of his throat, “Fuck, Princess,” he hissed, as you finally spare him, pulling his boxers off, his erection slapping against his too fucking incredible abs — how was he so unfairly perfect? He was so gorgeous — more long than girthy, but he was so thick still, and flushed red with pearly pre-cum at the tip. Each vein and curve felt as if he was made for you.

“All this for me, baby?” You tease, as his mouth opens and then closes as your fingers tease the head of his cock, a sharp inhale that keeps echoing in your ears, “all turned on from eating me out, huh?” You move close, nearly straddling him, but you don’t let your cunt brush against his cock — not yet.

And his dick twitches in your hand, “Sweetheart,” he whimpers, eyes nearly glassy with need, “such a fucking tease,”

And your lips curl, “Match made in heaven, baby,” you rub your thumb against his flushed tip, spreading the pre-cum along his shaft, “can’t wait to taste you, wonder if you taste as sweet as what you eat,” licking your lips, and he’s biting his lip, “tell me what you want, Toru,”

“Y’know what I want, Princess,” he’s panting as you lean forward to kiss him, lips sliding against his, just as your palm starts to stroke him, his moan is nearly pornographic, words spilling from his mouth, “want your pretty pussy around my cock, sweetheart, plesse,”

“Not so fast, baby,” you hum, your other hand moving to tease his balls, achingly full, judging by the gasp that left his throat, “wanna take my time with you, like you did with me, right?” And he breaks your kiss with a whine, “you feel so good in my hands, Toru, been thinking about this cock for too long,” and he’s grunting, lips parted as he pants, burying his face in your shoulder.

“How good?” he mumbles, and you’re grinning even wider — the great Satoru Gojo fell to pieces with only your touch and some praise, his face beautifully flushed as you tug him by the back of his hair, thumb running over his undercut as you do.

“So good that I wanna make you fall apart over and over until my name is the only thing on your lips,” you squeeze the base of his dick, making his hips jump, “gonna be a good boy for me and let me do it?”

And he’s nodding, utterly fucked out even before you’ve even started. And you guide him to the end of the bed, as you get on your knees for him, his gaze darkening as he watches you lean down to press your lips to the tip of his weeping erection, making him groan your name. And you trace his slit with the tip of your tongue, tasting his salty release, “How long you gonna tease me baby? I’m being so good for you,” he’s whining, his baby blues fluttering with lust as he looks down at you, choking as he sees how his precum paints your lips, “please, fuck, just—“

And you finally guide his cock into your mouth, and he’s jerking at the sensation and groaning as he watches your pretty little mouth take his length — those same smart lips that always had a reply for everything, the ones he’d jerked off to the thought of this very situation — you on your knees for him, the ones he’d wanted around him for so long — it was too much.

He almost blew his load all too fast, your warm mouth all too accommodating to his cock, as your wet walls and tongue swirl around him, tasting and sucking, your fingers grasping his thighs. And you bob up and down his length, the weight of his cock making the ache between your legs worse, and your eyes flicker up, and moan as you watch him.

He’s so fucking gorgeous — panting and so fucked out, as his lips part for you, your name leaving his kissed red lips, teeth baring down on his bottom lip, “Fuck, my little wife is so pretty on her knees,” as his hands settle on your head, watching you sink your mouth down on his cock, pleasure running up his spine, as his thick fingers dig into your scalp, “so nasty, baby, fuuuuck, gonna fuck your throat at this rate,” he groans, “how’d you get so good at this baby? Don’t answer that,” he adds, a growl in his words, and you almost giggle around his dick.

“Learned so I could blow you, husband, after all, this mouth is yours,” you grin, and his lips curl too and then they part as he grunts, as you press teasing kisses along his length before sliding it back into your mouth, beginning to let the tip hit the back of your throat. You gag on him, making him moan, as he helps you deepthroat him, his hips thrusting against you lightly, his white pubes brushing against your face.

And he’s moaning even louder, as he watches you, drool slipping down your chin as he fucks your mouth, tongue massaging him as he did, “Made just to fuck me, huh? Want my load that bad, Princess?” And his words have your eyes rolling back as he’s moving against you, his cock twitching telling you that he’s close, “shiiit, fuck, my wife’s a slut for me, gonna swallow my cum baby?”

“Only for you,” you pull away a moment, a string of spit connecting your lips to his dick, smiling, before you slip him back into your too eager mouth, and you hollow your cheeks, the lewd noises of your tongue and mouth sending him over the edge.

“Fuck, fuck, gonna cum, baby, can I cum in—“ and you make his tip brush your throat again as you suck, looking at him with half lidded, dilated eyes. And he spills into your mouth, hot cum down your throat, as he holds your head gently in place, “shit Princess,” his hips jumping at the sight of you, cum and spit slipping from the corner of your mouth as you pull his cock from you, “s’good for me,”

He’s still panting, as you climb into his lap properly, his cock sliding against your cunt, making his face twist in pleasure, as you lick your mouth clean of him, wiping your chin, “Taste so good, Toru,” you hum, his eyes half lidded with pleasure, chest still heaving, as he leans back on shaky arms, “you may be my favorite meal, but I think I rather,” you grind on his lap teasingly dragging his tip against your messy cunt, “have you cum inside me,”

And he gives a delicious gasp, “baby, too sensitive,” but you’re tilting his chin back as you meet his lips, both of you moaning as you taste yourselves on the other’s lips, “you’re gonna be the death of me, Princess,” he’s chuckling, as he starts to grab your thighs, putting you properly into his lap, “you gonna ride me like a good little princess? Fuck yourself on my cock?”

How does he have the upper hand when you’re the one on top?

As you feel yourself clench around nothing at his words, and he’s sliding your body back and forth, his cock slapping and sliding against your wrecked cunt, so close to sinking in. His hand bears down on your ass, slapping it, before his fingers squeeze it, making you jump against him, your chest brushing against his, “you like that huh?” he’s grinning, as he kisses you again, his lips sliding against you, swallowing your moans eagerly, “what do you want, baby? Remember to say please,” he adds, and you want to roll your eyes, but his fingers rub your clit, and any protest you had fled your mind.

“Please,” and you’re using your fingers to part yourself above him, making his eyes roll back, as you grasp his cock, teasing your dripping cunt with the head of his dick, “fuck me,”

And you sink onto him, inch by inch, as your head looks back, your walls squeezing as he parted your folds, “You’re drenching me, sweetheart, fucking perfect princess cunt is gonna wring me dry,” he grunts, as his fingers splay over your hips, grasping but not pushing, letting you go at your pace, “s’good, might just have to fill you up, again and again,” and your pussy twitches at that thought drawing a laugh from him lips, “you want that? My wife wants to be full of my cum,” he’s groaning when you finally fit all of his cock in you, cunt clamping down on him, “trying to break my cock? Don’t have to go that far to keep me, I’m living in this sweet cunt from now on,”

You’re a mess — whining and moaning, your chest bouncing as you begin to move against him, “Toru, so full, s’good,” his own hips jumping against yours, a low growl in his throat, as his hands begin to guide your hips, snapping his own hips as he fucks you onto his own cock, reaching new depths, as your eyes squeeze shut, “fuckfuckfuuuck, Toru,” you’re babbling and moaning his name, again and again — and he just needs more.

And he’s spanking you, hands coming down on your ass, as he grunts, your warm walls twitching and squeezing him, brushing against sweet spots that have both of you groaning, “such a fucking good girl, taking my cock — I know you can take more, baby, my perfect wife,” and he’s capturing your nipple in his mouth, teeth grazing it before he sucks, his hips growing even faster, until his cock finds your special spot.

“Toru, g’nna cum, I—“ And your orgasm hits you, head thrown back as your lips part in a silent scream, toes curling as you wrap your legs around his waist, and he’s fucking you right through — fucking relentless, almost limitless, with his pace, groaning as he watches his the base of his cock covered in your release, a pool of white that almost has him cumming then and there.

“S’ fuckinh pretty, Princess, and all mine,” he says, as you moan, as he slows his pace, your face buried in his shoulder, as you come down from your high, and he’s tilting your head.

But he isn’t done yet.

In a moment, he’s pulling his cock out — a whine parting your mouth — as he manhandles you so that you’re flat on your back, your ankles thrown over his shoulders, and spread wide for him. You’re the picture of filth — lips in a kiss ruined pout, chest rising and falling as you gaze up at him with needy eyes, and your perfect cunt leaking and drenched for him — he could see everything — all of you, the way your cum slid down your hole, the way it clenched around nothing, the pretty pink insides he was desperate to make his.

He licks his lips, “soaking my lap and sheets with your cum, baby, such a dirty girl,” and he’s spreading your lips, letting your release trickle out.

“Satoru,” you whine as he runs a finger over your still twitching pussy, as if begging for his cock back, “please, too sensitive,”

“Please what, sweetheart? Because your cunt seems to disagree,” his chuckle is a deep noise that reverberates through his chest as he leans down to press your lips to yours in a languid kiss, “such a nerdy princess, imagine how’d your family would feel — seeing you beg for my cock, huh? Not the chaste little princess anymore? Nah, you’re my filthy baby,” and you’re whimpering, “tell me baby, I know you’re not nearly fucked dumb yet, you’re too smart for that,” he coos, a grin on his lips as he stares with that damn crystalline gaze.

And finally he’s sinking into you again, cock sliding back into your soaked cunt, “God, I love you,” he murmurs, as he’s somehow deeper inside you, pussy pressed against all of him, “so fucking perfect, baby, better than I imagined,” he’s pussydrunk now as he rails into you, and you’re grasping at him, the only sound in your ears is the squelch of him as he filled you again and again as his chest presses against yours, fucking you long and hard, “you’re all mine now, baby. My wife, my body, my love, my soul — all of it,” he growls his last words, grunting as his hips begin to stutter as he kisses your sweet spot again and again, “you want me to cum in this sweet princess pussy, baby? Wanna make me a daddy?”

Your cunt twitches at that, and he laughs, “did you just get wetter, baby? Didn’t think you could do that,”

But you’re only moaning, you’re so fuckin’ close but you want him to cum with you - wanna feel him sink into as he does. And so you’re meeting his lips in a searing kiss, his hips thrusting harder and longer, “give me your baby, Toru, breed me,” you whisper, words slurring as you pant and stutter, all sense had left your mind - and all you wanted was him.

“Fuck, Princess,” he’s grunting as he pistons in and out of you, bed groaning under his thrusts, until your walls clamp down again and again on him as you cum, throbbing and needy as you moan his name, back arching, “g’nna cum,”

And he does, his cock hitting the deepest part of you as he does, his warm seed filling you up, as his hips continue to fuck it deeper into you, making you whimper, as he just keeps on cumming ropes, “oh, f-fuck, Princess,” he rasps as he kisses you, sloppy and wet, as he pants, watching your face come down him your high, eyelashes fluttering as you look up at him, “so beautiful,” he murmurs, as he rubs his thumb down your lips.

He pulls out slowly, groaning as he watches your mixed releases leak out of you, dragging the tip of his weeping erection down your cunt, a whine leaving your throat again, “So fucking filthy, baby,” he hums, a shiteating grin on his lips, as he collects his cum on his fingers, and pushes it back inside of you, as you jump, a small pout on your lips making him laugh, “gotta make good on my promise, baby,” and he’s kissing you silly again, “gotta get you pregnant and full for me,”

His body is sticky with sweat, as he eases your aching legs down, as he kisses up your body, nosing your neck, “So perfect for me, Princess, I love you,” he says so earnestly that it makes you melt, as you pull him into a kiss, “suppose we consummated our marriage now, does this mean we get to have a honeymoon now?” he’s grinning, as you roll your eyes, “come on, don’t you want to travel?”

And you laugh, “I don’t think we would even leave the hotel room if you had your way,” and he’s pressing his thumb against your bottom lip and dragging down, before kissing you, sliding his tongue into your mouth to taste you.

“Would that be such a bad thing?” And your breath catches a moment, before you sigh, and he grins again, “so?”

You roll over to grab your phone, kissing his lips, pulling up possible destinations, “where are we going?”

“Satoru, we’re at the office, uhmph—“ Satoru’s kissing you even before the elevator doors shut, and you can’t help but not care if anyone saw either of you making out, his talented tongue stealing your logic from under you, before he’s pulling away, your lipstick nearly smeared all over his face. You bite back a laugh, before using your thumb to wipe away the evidence of your kiss, “we’ve been here less than a minute, and you’re already making a mess,”

And his lips catch your thumb between them, kissing it sweetly, “What do I do better than make a mess of you, princess?” and he’s pressing sweet kisses to your fingertips, before you’re pulling him back for another kiss, right before you hear the elevator ding, and you scramble apart.

Your cheeks flushed, as you stepped onto the floor of the newly merged company that was formerly your families’ individual companies, now united as one — just as you and Satoru were now — which was why he couldn’t seem to keep his hands off of you. The two of you had come into the office to finalize the transition for your staff, each of you dealing with formalities on either side, but Satoru did little to help your focus on the process with his blatant stares and sneaky touches.

Twice already he had pulled you into his office, only to have you either pressed against his door, or bent over his desk. And god, you sat in your office, biting your lip as you thought about paying him another visit — and fuck, this is what he wanted.

You pull your phone out and text him: You suck.

And his reply is instant. If I recall from last night, you’re the one who sucks ;)

You’ve left me high and dry, Satoru, and I shouldn’t be thinking about fucking you in the office. Especially with both of our parents around in meetings all day.

He replies, Nah, that’s exactly why you should be thinking about it.

And then another text.

Imagine our parents walking in while you’re under my desk doing what you do best, you’d be quiet for me, Princess? Wouldn’t let us get caught when I fuck your pretty mouth?

You’re biting your lip — Fucker, I hate you.

Nah, you love me, a little too much, Princess. Another text — especially the way you were moaning my name last night.

And there’s a knock at your door in that moment — “Come in,” you intone, and you were ninety-nine percent sure that was Satoru — ready to make good on his promise — and then white hair visible as the door swings open, “Father,”

It was a Gojo, but not the one you expected — your father in law, instead of his son.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” he says, lips curling in a smile that was all too the same as his son — but missing the same charm, the distinct softness that made you adore Satoru was not present in his father — nor was his father very present at all — except to chastise his son on how he thought his son should live his life.

And he was interrupting — interrupting you about to sext his son and your husband from the confines of your office, but you only offered a smile, “Not at all, can I help you with something, Father?”

He’s shutting the door behind him, before taking a seat across from you, “I just wanted to have a chat with you — it’s been so long since we’ve been able to see the two of you — we still haven’t had you over since you’ve returned from your honeymoon,”

“It’s been very busy,” and it had been, but not too busy to see Satoru’s family. Since the launch party, you and Satoru had agreed to steer clear of his father for some time, until Satoru could develop some more healthy boundaries with him. And so you could get through a conversation without strangling him (although Satoru wasn’t opposed to seeing that), “with the merger and Satoru and I trying to spend time to get know each other again,”

“Of course,” but his smile told you he was unconvinced, “I wanted to talk to you about something important, I’ve seen how close you and Satoru have gotten since the engagement and the wedding, and I was happy to see you pushing him in the right direction,”

“”Pushing him?’” you repeat, raising an eyebrow.

“With the merger, I haven’t seen him so focused, so determined, and I knew my suggestion to my wife to have you marry him was the right choice,” and you stare at him, mouth agape, as anger slowly melts from your stomach into every vein of his body, fingers curling into fists.

“Excuse me?”

He leans back in his chair, “When the idea of the merger was floated by me, I knew I wanted a condition to be your marriage to Satoru,” his eyes glance over the things on your desk — the stacked folders, the paperwork, and the pictures of your family and of Satoru, “you’re driven, you’re focused, you’re perfect — I knew you could change him, and I was right,” his lips curl, and you can’t hold your tongue anymore.

“Maybe what your son needed was someone to support him,” your words are even, but your body is tense, “he needed someone not to scold him, to put him down, to whisper doubts in his ear when he needed help,” you rise from your chair slowly, “I respect you as my father-in-law and as my family’s old friend and co-owner of this company, but,” you glare at him, “no one insults my husband’s capabilities, and makes me takes credit for his achievements,”

The old man’s teeth grit, and he opens to respond, when there’s a curt knock at the door, and Satoru enters, “Old man, how about you go chat with the other old farts in the room? Pretty sure you’re bleeding investors by the second the longer you talk with my wife,” he slides a small smile to you that tells you he heard everything.

Satoru’s father shoots a glare at both of you, before leaving the room in a huff, door shutting behind him, and you sigh, rubbing your temples, “I’m sorry if I made things worse—”

And he’s pulling you into a hug, arms snaking around your waist and pulling you against him, “Thank you, Princess,” he murmurs into your ear, making you tense, “oh you like that, huh?” and you roll your eyes, laughing.

“Even in a moment like this, huh?” you lean up and whisper in his ear, “I don’t just like it, I love it,” and it’s his turn to shiver, his cheeks burning, “you’re so cute,” you grin, before leaning up and kissing him. He melts into the kiss, his fingers cupping your cheek to deepen the kiss, pulling your waist against his, and you feel his arousal pressed against your thigh.

You pull away, tilting your head, you snort, “Already?”

And he bites his lip, “Take some responsibility, baby, it’s your fault,” and he leans down and grazes your ear with his teeth, “not my fault my hot wife defended my honor and then decided to whisper sweet nothings in my ear,”

You hum, guiding his lips to yours, your teeth graze over his bottom lip, “And how should I take responsibility, baby?” and he shudders, crystalline eyes glazed over with lust, “we’re in the office, not very professional,” his fingers unbutton your blouse, so he can lean down and kiss your collarbone.

“I was never very professional to begin with,” he smirks, his teeth grazing over the soft skin, sucking and biting, making you gasp, “don’t be so loud, someone will hear us, what will they think?” he murmurs, with a grin against your skin, as he continues to undo your blouse, as he turns you around so your back is against your chest, he tilts your head to look at your door, “look it’s unlocked, anyone could walk in,” and his fingers sneak down the front of your skirt, fingers teasing your panties, “fuuuck, princess, you’re soaked through — are you more turned on by the idea of getting caught?” and you whimper, only making him grin wickedly against your neck, “my filthy girl, imagine your father walking in, seeing your husband’s fingers down your skirt, legs spread wide like a slut,”

“Satoru,” you’re biting your lip so hard that you wouldn’t be surprised it would bleed, your knees buckling, as his fingers part your dripping folds, “we can’t—”

“We can,” he shushes you, guiding your lips to his, fingers cupping your throat, but he leans back to get confirmation that you were okay, and you lean in again to kiss him, “such a good girl,” You whimper, and he laughs, “gotta break in the new office don’t we?”

And his fingers slip your panties aside, two fingers parting your folds, and you gasp, as he stuffs two fingers into your mouth as well, “Not so loud, Princess, can’t give the office gossip mill something really juicy, now can we?” And his digits start to really fuck you, in and out, the wet squelch ringing in your ears, as his fingers bully and stretch your walls, until they find what they are looking for — your g-spot.

You fall apart, but it’s gushing all over his hand, soaking his hand, as your hand grasps at the fingers in his mouth trying to stifle your noises, “Fuck, Princess, did you just squirt for me?” He’s grinning, “such a sloppy little Princess, look you’re staining the carpet with your cum,” he guides your head to look, seeing the spot on the carpet, as you lean against him, “gotta do this again,”

He kisses you as you moan. Tangled limbs and eager touches, as you guide him over to the desk, as you settle him into the chair, lips still parting as your tongue slips in, “Your turn,” and before he can even react, you’re slipping down to your knees, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants, slipping his aching dick out, nearly slapping your face with it, you drag it along your lips, “Like you said, I’m the one who sucks right?” you wink, before you finally lick the length of his cock, tracing the veins to the slit, “you always taste so good, Toru,” and he’s hissing now.

“Fuck, baby, you always so pretty on your knees for me,” and you have to disagree — he’s the one who looks pretty — shirt disheveled, chest rising and falling far too fast, as he looked down at you with his snowy white eyelashes half lidded with a lust ridden gaze — “your pretty mouth is s’fucking perfect, can’t wait to cum down that lovely throat,” he hisses, as his fingers dig into your scalp, urging his cock deeper, his tip brushing against your throat, making you gag.

He opens his mouth to apologize, but you only shake your head, as you do it again, making his hips buck against you, tip hitting your throat again, his composure quickly falling to shreds, as he’s fucking your throat now, biting his lip so hard to keep his groans in, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was bleeding afterwards.

“I-I’m close,” he’s gritting his teeth, but you only redouble your efforts, “so fuckin’ perfect, made to suck this dick—”

And that’s when there’s a knock on the door, making you both freeze. You panic silently — before Satoru is shepherding you under your desk, while he adjusts himself, scooting your chair in more, so his weeping cock is hidden along with you.

“Come in,” Satoru says, as even toned as someone who was just fucking their wife’s throat can manage, “Dad—what a nice surprise,”

And you cover your mouth — fuck it was your dad — Satoru called his dad, “old man” — what the fuck.

“I should be saying that to you son,” you bite your lip, listening to their conversation, “where’s my daughter? And why are you in her office?” and you covered your mouth, shit — you were hiding under your own desk, while Satoru sat in your chair.

Shit, shit, shit.

“I was just waiting for her to come back with lunch,” he manages, and you can almost see the dependable smile on his lips, “she volunteered to get us lunch and she told me to wait here so we could eat together,”

Your father was seemingly convinced after that, but to both of your dismay, sat down to speak with Satoru about business matters. You crouched, utterly bored as you listened to them talk, his erection beginning to wane, and you got an idea in your pretty little head — you grinned — well, Satoru should be careful what he wishes for, or he might just get you blowing him in front of your father.

You start slow — teasing the head with a brush of your fingers, easily could have been an accident, but it nearly makes him jump, as he gives a warning nudge with his foot gently. But then your hand begins to rub him in earnest, fingers using your spit as lube, as you heard your husband stammer over his words to your father. But it was nothing compared to when you closed your mouth over his cock, and began to deepthroat him again.

“Satoru, are you okay?’ you hear your father ask, as you discreetly suck your husband’s cock under his desk, and you can only imagine the delightful shade of red your Toru is turning.

“Sorry, I’m not feeling like myself,” he mumbles, as he grits his teeth in an attempt not to moan, and you can feel his thighs tense as he forces himself not to fuck your mouth as he wants to right now. He’s so close — as much as you like the idea of getting caught, you think Satoru likes it as much or maybe even more — his cock is twitching in your mouth as you suck and swirl your tongue around it, as your fingers dig into your thighs, “I apologize, I’m getting a call. Could you excuse me?”

And your father is oblivious, and excuses himself from the room, door shutting behind him, and Satoru groans, “Fuck, princess, you almost made me cum in front of your dad in this nasty fucking mouth,” and you suck harder, fingers fondling his balls, as his fingers find your locks again, and his hips jerk into your mouth, his white pubes tickling your nose, “thaaat’s it, fuck, so fuckin’ good, i’m close, sweetheart,” he groans, “you want me to cum—“ and you bury his cock deeper into your mouth as an answer, your hands pumping what you couldn’t fit, until he cums down your throat.

You meet his half lidded gaze, swallowing his cum, as you ease off his cock, a mix of cum and saliva connected your lips, “You taste so good,” you lick your lips, as you push the chair a little back and climb out, as you tug his boxers and pants back up, tucking his cock back in, “my favorite treat,”

He smiles, chest still rising and falling fast, “I love you, princess,” so genuinely as he pulls you into a deep kiss.

You giggle, humming against his lips, “So heartfelt after getting your soul sucked out of your dick,” you glance at the door, “do you think anyone heard us?”

He shrugs, as he pulls you into his lap, “I hope they did,” he grins against your neck, as you roll your eyes.

“You’re terrible,” and his lips curl.

“And you love me,” you kiss those same lips you would each day.

“I do.”

~~~~

“What do you wanna do today?” Satoru asks, your legs thrown over his lap, as you read a book you had picked up the other day out on a date with him, and he eats the kikufuku he had insisted on picking up the same day.

“Hmm, I have some ideas,” you hum, hiding your smile with a book, and you don’t need to see his face to know he’s grinning.

“And what’s that, Princess?” he leans forward, plucking the book from your fingers, as you tut at his sugar covered fingers, “shouldn’t you share your feelings with your husband?” And his lips brush against your neck, nose brushing against the soft skin of your nape, inhaling your scent.

“Well I have a surprise for you,” you weren’t planning on giving it to him now, but you pulled a wrapped box from behind the couch cushions, “should I make you wait?”

He’s reaching for the box already, as you laugh, and he’s snatching it from your fingers before you can tease him, “can I open it?” He was so eager, as always.

“Go ahead, baby,” you bite your lip, a small smile on your lips.

He lifts the lid of the wrapped box off, and the first thing his eyes flit across is the word “positive.”

His mouth parts, as he stares at the pregnancy test carefully nestled into the box, “is this—“ his cerulean eyes meet yours, a soft gaze with wonder, “are we—“

“We’re having a baby, Toru,” you nod, and he’s sweeping you into his arms, as you squeak, his body sweeping you up in his, as he buries his face in your neck, “Toru—“

“Is this real?” He murmurs, into your skin, all soft words and soft kisses, “I feel like I’m dreaming,”

“Well I am your dream girl, so maybe don’t be surprised when I pinch you and you wake up,” you pinch his cheek lightly, making his pale skin cutely flushed, pink dusting his cheeks, “no dream here, all real — so I guess you’re just lucky,”

“The luckiest,” he hums, a quiet noise that soothes you, “a beautiful wife, and now,” his fingers graze over your stomach, before lifting the hem of your shirt, to press his lips to it, “and now we’re going to be a family,”

Your lips curl, tilting his chin up so his watery gaze meets your own, thumb rubbing the length of his cheek, “We already were a family,

He raises his eyebrows in mock surprise, “I thought we were mortal enemies,” and you laugh, before shrugging.

“That too,” and he pulls you into his lap, smiling, “but you’re actually pretty cute,”

He gasps mockingly, “Princess, do you have a crush on me? A mere commoner?”

You roll your eyes, pressing a languid kiss to his lips, tasting the lingering sweetness of the kikufuku, “I hate you,” you say, when he knows you mean quite the opposite.

And he only smiles the same way he always did — and the same way he always would — “love you too, Princess."

✩ a/n: so this was also inspired by a character AI made by @/fairybaby that has been living in my mind rent free for far too long. thank you to @/laneymusings for being the best emotional support from writing to formatting to everything in between

✩ tag list: @ryliobrow, @getosho3cakes, @delaneyyyy, @soukokufan, @purplscnerie, @solarlunarsstuff, @growingupnrealizing, @forest-fruits-jam, @achipstea1ingseagull, @fruitscall, @starplasma-cujoh, @crashing-a-jeep, @mwah-chia, @vorschlaghannah, @xrysakts, @emonaculate

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