#he also has a mouth. he just doesn't need to open it to speak.

[crimeronan]

Oh, the great maker of trauma for the beans that are part of Princess Luz Au, heed my query and answer me:

Did Luz get any big bad evil guy energy or skill from being raised by the waste of space previously known as Belos?

I mean as we all know Luz is a precious bean, but I think she deserves to be a little evil towards bad people, like I assume that Hunter is already planning how to murder (or worse) Amity's parents, even if he isn't fully aware of it/is in denial that he is planning the horrors on the for making Amity, but I stay with me for a moment and imagine the verified cinnamon roll Luz Noceda Wittebane putting the fear of Titan into Odalia after learning that she abused Amity.

Also, her snapping out of it after Odalia faints out of fear (and pain), and panicking that she is just like below only for her parteners to be like, 'nooo~ it was hot normal and perfectly sane thing to do'.

this answer Might be disappointing in some ways, mainly: i don't Think luz would be physically violent with them without provocation, and i also don't think she's likely to lose emotional control around them. she'd want to be just as poised around amity's parents as she always was around belos and always is around the coven heads.

HOWEVER. as for the questions of "does luz know how to be scary" and "did she learn that from belos": UNEQUIVOCAL yes. to both.

i've been wanting to play with luz in this space with amity's parents for A While, actually, so. have a little fic :)

-

"Oh, Amity is my pride and joy," Odalia says, placing a hand over her heart. "I taught her everything she knows."

"Yes, I did get that impression." The Empress smiles, rising to her feet. "It's incredible how much she's accomplished in spite of you."

Odalia's breath catches around a shocked, bitten-down laugh. "Your Majesty, begging your pardon, I believe you meant 'because of-'"

"In spite of," Luz repeats, very firmly. "It's fortunate that Lilith Clawthorne has taken such an interest in her wellbeing."

Odalia's smile doesn't waver, but it does remain frozen for several seconds before she says, "I suppose Amity feels the need to invent an adversary. Some great trial she overcame to earn her place here. It's understandable. Children often lack the foundation to understand the sacrifices their parents make. She had a very privileged upbringing."

"Amity has never spoken unkindly of either of you," Luz says, although this she seems to mean more for Alador, whose face may give more away.

She steps lightly down the stairs from the throne, joining the pair of them on the ground. "Amity rarely speaks of either of you at all, actually. That isn't why I've called you here."

Odalia's voice turns cool, corporate. "Then how can we help you, Your Majesty?"

"Did you know that Blight Industries has a higher rate of workplace accidents than..." Luz slides a folder out of her tunic, flips it open, and raises her eyebrows. "...any other company on the Isles?"

This time, Odalia's laugh covers something else. "That's - that's preposterous. Our workplace safety records are excellent. Why, we haven't needed a single intervention by the Healing Coven in... oh, is it three years?" She taps the side of her mouth, frowning. "Four? Five?"

"That's fascinating," Luz says. "Not even for a scrape?"

"Abrasions heal quite well by themselves, given time."

"Absolutely fascinating," Luz repeats. "Did you know that it's illegal to purposefully deny people healing services?"

Odalia scoffs, incredulous. "For scrapes?"

"I know," Luz says pleasantly, "I was surprised, too. There are a lot of laws like that, it turns out. Text on paper that hasn't been enforced in half a century. From what I understand, this one is a holdover from early Empire anxieties. People were terribly worried about not having access to personal healing magic anymore. So healing services had to be protected."

Odalia's smile has become more teeth than pleasantry. "What a fun little history lesson. I'm sure you know all sorts of facts about the early Empire."

"It turns out that it's very easy to put laws in writing," Luz says, "without the intention to enforce them. My father, may the Titan bless him, had precious little interest in the rights of individuals to be seen by healers. But this isn't his Empire anymore. And I find the topic just captivating."

Odalia has stopped trying to hide her impatience, now. "So you'll fine us for not having healers on hand to wave away every little paper cut. That's fine. I apologize for the oversight. We'll settle up and make sure that going forward-"

"Mr. Blight," Luz says, ignoring Odalia entirely, "would you kindly remove your gloves for me?"

Alador startles.

Odalia doesn't glance at him. Her eyes are fixed unblinking on Luz. She speaks through her teeth, nearly a hiss. "Don't feel compelled to do that, dear."

"I assure you, I can compel him to do that," Luz says. Then, in a tone that would almost pass for apologetic if it wasn't so practiced, "I am sorry to compel it of you. I try not to compel my subjects very often. But if you find it difficult to remove your gloves, my scouts would be happy to assist you."

The scouts around the base of the throne don't move. Odalia's eyes slide uneasily over them anyway.

"That won't be necessary," Alador says, speaking for the first time. He pulls the gloves off without fanfare, holding up his hands.

Half of his left ring finger and pinky are conspicuously missing.

If Luz is uncomfortable with this revelation, she sure isn't showing it. "Oh, that's so interesting," she says, leaning forward to get a closer look. "The Healing Coven keeps meticulous records, and I'm certain a partial amputation was never reported to them. You were born with all five fingers, yes? I'm sure Amity will attest to that."

"This was from an accident in my personal lab," Alador says, with the mechanical precision of something rehearsed. "The severed digits were not... salvageable."

"It's so amazing that you were able to make that determination," Luz says, "without even needing to consult the Healing Coven. You must be a very proficient magician."

Alador blinks.

"Regardless," Odalia interrupts, "it happened outside of Blight Industries. The company isn't liable. You haven't 'gotten' us."

"Do you ever test Blight Industries products in your personal lab, Mr. Blight?"

"Prototypes," he says.

Odalia makes a sharp, exasperated gesture. "Alador!"

"That seems like company business to me," Luz says, still pleasant, still conversational. "Now, I will be fully transparent, before you accuse me of anything with regards to prejudice - it is true that I hate you both. It is true that I've hated you both for a while now. If you feel like I'm targeting you because I hate you, then you're very astute."

Odalia's fingers twitch, threatening to curl into fists.

Luz continues, "However, it's also true that there is no bias where my judgment is concerned. Not legally, anyway. So it doesn't matter whether I hate you or not. Whatever I decide to do with you is the Titan's will. Government is amazing."

Odalia exhales sharply.

When Luz doesn't waver, she shakes her head. For the first time, her voice cracks - properly cracks. There's a tiny tremble in her hands.

"Amity won't forgive you if anything happens to us," she says - but there's no bravado, no power, only pathetic uncertainty. "Regardless of any... petty grievances she may harbor. Family is everything to a Blight. She won't forgive this."

"I know that," Luz says. "I promise, I have no intention of doing Amity any unkindness. It's not her fault you two have chosen to be what you are."

Another sharp exhale. Odalia's breathing is ragged, audible. She's clearly not a woman accustomed to fearing for her own safety.

"That's fantastic news!" she chirps.

Luz's smile is beatific, magnanimous. The serene expression of someone who's never questioned the divine right of kings.

"Unfortunately, I'm not wholly opposed to doing an unkindness," she says, "if we can't seem to reach an agreement. It's really up to you how this goes."

She looks from Odalia to Alador and back, tilting her head.

"So. How badly do both of you want to live?"

[churchydragon]

thinking about my SCP 049 design again. what if I gave him little ears.

[shadow4-1]

I'm just imagining having spent the night with a lover who isn't in the 141, only to wake up the next morning and there's in intervention waiting for you in the rec room.

Like, at first you're just confused. But when Price opens his mouth to ask you about how you slept...you have a bit of a meltdown. Why does it matter? Why is everyone staring at you? What's going on?

Soap grabs the collar of your t-shirt and pulls it down so everyone can get a look at the dark hickies dotting your neck. You slap his hand away, tears in your eyes.

"So all of you can do whatever you want? Sneak bitches on base and fuck around at all the bars we pass through! But I'm not allowed to do anything with someone I actually like?!"

It hurts. It feels like you're being stripped bare in front of them.

Price sighs, his gaze softens. It's obvious he doesn't want to have this conversation but something you've done has given him no choice. Soap just stands a few feet away, chest puffed out, eyeing you with a strange annoyance. You know if you try to leave he'll stop you.

"You are...not in the same position as us." Price tries and winces. He's obviously not putting his thoughts into soft enough words, but he continues. "You are...it is our responsibility to keep you safe."

"Safe? You're trying to keep me safe?" Your voice is raised higher than you've ever raised it at Price. "Safe by what? Fighting off all the guys at the bars? Safe by spreading lies about me to all of the PMCs and the other Task Forces?"

Price just closed his eyes and set his jaw. He had to know about the subterfuge you'd been experiencing for well over a couple years now. Everyone in the room was guilty as charged.

"You're and asset. And you're also a liability." Ghost speaks up, eyes narrowed, stance way too relaxed against the metal folding chair he sits in. "Do you remember what happened to the 7th Division?"

Saliva pools in your mouth, a sudden queasiness filling your stomach. Yeah, of course you remembered. Their beloved medic had been kidnapped by a group of angry drug lords using a mercenary group as their muscle. The 7th Division had gone in guns blazing to get their member back and well...they'd been wiped out. And their star medic they'd sacrificed everything for? She'd been brainwashed and inducted into the very agency that stole her away.

KORTAC

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" You mutter. "Please tell me you're not."

"We can't have you fraternizing with anyone." Price states smoothly. "As our medic, you have a responsibility to us, your team. We can't have you getting caught up in something bigger."

"I understand what you're saying, but can't you see how ridiculous this is?" You try to reason. "I'm human, I have- god this is embarrassing. I h-have wants and...needs, just like you guys."

The silence is loud. You can't meet anyone's gaze. Price steps closer to you, swallowing hard. His next few words are spoken softly, conspiratorially.

"All of your needs will be taken care of. We will never let you suffer by yourself."

Price cocks his head to the men before you both. All of them straighten beneath his gaze. Price places a hand on the small of your back.

"Whatever it takes." He commands them. "I better not hear or see anything. Do I make myself clear?"

A trio of "yessirs" bounce off the white walls. Price just smiles and nods. He pats your back.

"There we go. You'll be fine." He sighs. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to talk to your guest."

Your eyes widen, your throat drops into your stomach.

"Wait!"

"We've got ye, Bonnie. You n' all yer needs."

Six hands are on you from several different angles. Their massive frames block out the fluorescent lights.

"Ah, where are you goin'?" Gaz chuckles, his arm wraps around your belly.

You try to run after Price but the rec room door is slammed shut and locked. You try to push the closest man away, but he just grins down at you.

[ssahotchnerr]

jealous!Aaron would be super interesting in a situation where the reader has a meeting with an agent that has vibes similar to him and Kate Joyner (Whoever the reader meets kinda resembles and ex or maybe even Aaron himself and they're oddly friendly 🤭)

the one

OMG cw; bau!reader, jealous!aaron, aaron's petty (and a bit insecure), established relationship (and a healthy one at that <333), vague allusions to sex, fluff wc; 1.8k

"your team will be stationed here." the chief of police led you, aaron and jj into one of the conference rooms, complete with a large table, vast seating and numerous bulletin boards. "our head detective will be in to assist you shortly."

"thank you." once he had exited, aaron exhaled a breath - more so a let's get this show on the road, "alright, let's get settled."

jj began unpacking the evidence from the boxes collected so far, as aaron and yourself hung up photos; crime scene as well as images of the victims so far.

as promised, the door soon opened, allowing the noise of the precinct to drift in. it ended as abruptly as it had started, the door clicking shut.

"mornin', i'm detective parker." you heard from behind you, the name and voice strangely familiar, causing you to slow. "it's real nice of y'all to come all this way to help us out."

jj introduced herself, and then aaron, but no introduction was needed on your end; you turned and your eyes connected with the voice, both of you recognizing each other instantly.

"no way!" you grinned, moving forward and bypassing a handshake for a hug. he reciprocated your energy, exclaiming your name as he embraced you just as tightly.

aaron immediately stiffened, and jj was equally taken aback, studying the man. the first noticeable thing, the resemblance. the dark hair, dark eyes, tall frame...

while aaron began to seethe, and jj took the initiative to vocalize what they both were wondering - she had also noted the vein beginning to bulge in his neck. "the two of you know each other?"

"we worked together back in the tuscon field office." you explained, turning back to parker with a smile. "that was what, three, four years ago?"

"has it been? doesn't feel like it." he released a hearty laugh. "look at you, you haven't changed a bit. you look good, and i mean real good."

a swarm of jealous heat filled aaron's body, and only grew as you and parker began chattering away like lifelong best friends.

eager to draw it to a close, he cleared his throat, loudly. it regained both your attention, and cut your small reunion short.

"huh, a bau profiler," parker said as he sobered down, his smile lingering as he gazed at you. "who would've thought."

jj inserted herself into the conversation again, intrigued yet perplexed. "so the two of you were close, then."

aaron refrained - with a large amount of effort - from physically rolling his eyes. clearly. he opened a file, solely to maintain his composure.

"oh, absolutely," parker answered for the both of you, while also throwing an arm around your shoulder. "there was one time we-"

"fascinating." aaron deadpanned as he interrupted, closing the file in hand, rather aggressively as it produced a quaint slap. his eyes rose and studied the agent's arm placement for a few, obvious seconds, his lips drawing into a tight line before continuing. "need i remind you we currently have three victims and a killer who is unraveling as we speak. it's in our best interest to work diligently and remain focused."

parker nodded, his cheeks producing a faint blush at the injunction.

"the recent victim's family still requires an interview. you can start there."

"the two of us can go," parker said, gesturing to yourself, "it's quite a drive away, could give us the opportunity to catch up."

"that won't be necessary, jj can accompany you." aaron stated firmly, not even looking at him, nose buried in his file again.

an amused yet disdained expression formed on jj's face, nodding slowly in confirmation. "that i can."

parker opened his mouth, probably to protest, but aaron had already turned his back. he surrendered and headed out, jj following.

"aaron." you transferred your weight onto your hand as you leaned on the edge of the table, raising an eyebrow.

"what?" he looked at you. despite his query, his eyes were a telltale - he knew what he was doing.

you arched your eyebrow more, giving him a look.

he sighed, shutting the file. "i didn't like the way he was looking at you."

"he wasn't-"

aaron gave you a pointed look this time, prompting your words to trail off. he tore his eyes away from you again, allowing his next inquiry to exit his mouth more easily, "so, were the two of you...?"

"oh, no." you began to shake your head, but halfway, you hesitated. "well... almost."

his lips fell into an uneasy line, a pained expression painted on his face as his gaze shot back to yours. "almost?"

"we went on a few dates, kissed and..." you released a breath, choosing to keep the summary short, but the brooding envy in aaron's eyes deepened. "but nothing ever came from it. we were better off as friends."

after a moment though, you added, on the quieter side, "and besides, i transferred before anything really solidified."

the lines in aaron's face only grew, biting down briefly on his bottom lip.

"but it's in the past." you quickly reassured, bringing your hands to his cheeks for a moment to relieve the tension. "i won't deny that we were close, but you know how partnerships work. i depended on him, him on me, and the majority of our time was spent together. it caused a lot of emotions, all of which, are gone. i haven't even spoken to him since, seriously."

aaron wanted to counter, does parker know that? but from the earnest expression on your face, and loving look in your eyes, he withheld from doing so.

the bitterness on his face still didn't falter, but "okay. that's fine."

you still weren't convinced. "are you sure?"

"yeah. you're allowed to have a history, but that doesn't mean i need to be optimistic about working with him." he said as he exhaled a breath. he meant it, fully secure and confident in your relationship. he simply detested the idea of another yearning for you, especially one you had a past with, and one who looked quite like him - a potential competitive force.

you were his.

"of course," you nodded, with full understanding. "if the roles were reversed, i know i'd feel the same."

"and as long as he doesn't try anything..."

you laughed, your fingers playing with and then smoothing out the lapels of his suit jacket - positioning them in perfect place just as they belonged. "he won't. trust me, he's not like that."

aaron nodded, his eyes softening as he gazed down at you. if it weren't for the current setting, he would've brought his lips to yours.

"i have you." you offered him a loving, genuine smile, the affirmation to his just-previous thought calming his heart rate further. "i have everything i could ever want."

-

despite aaron being a bit (very) high-strung, and keeping a close eye on parker, he kept his word - he remained civil. naturally, he still was passive aggressive, short, and didn't dare smile while interacting with him.

the team noticed the 'chemistry' too. you knew they were whispering about it; they had gazed questionably between the two of you upon their arrival at the precinct, and through the substance of the case - the naturalness, the easy meshing, bouncing ideas off each other. but you had worked with parker for years - you knew how he worked, and likewise. it was like riding a bike, old habits resurfacing.

they also noticed the familiar characteristics to aaron (morgan of course teased you about it, you simply waved him off). and even penelope all the way back home asked about it, "so this guy, what's the story there?"

but despite the at-times, annoying attention - the case proceeded and resolved easily. within a few days, it was time to return home.

as the team settled other matters - exit reports, paperwork, etc. - you found yourself with parker, packing up and clearing out the conference room.

the two of you were alone for the first time all week, and you could sense it in the silence - a pending question. it was a matter of time before it was brought to focus.

"what do you think would've happened, if we would've given it a shot?"

you froze, facing him. "what?"

"you and i." his eyes searched yours, creating a sense of deja-vu. it was familiar, having spent so much time with him and once it had sent shivers throughout your body. but as strong as they seemingly once were - it wasn't like with aaron. it didn't leave you feeling lightheaded and giddy and as if you could simply burst at the seams.

when you remained silent, he continued.

"we were good together." he stated, insistently. "you can't deny it. good partners, a great team."

"yeah... we were," you agreed, fiddling with some papers as you thought. "but in the field. romantically, no. we couldn't see eye to eye on anything non-work related, don't you remember how much we bickered?"

"that was good for one thing, at least."

you ignored that, firm and conclusive in your answer. "we wouldn't have lasted."

"and he's in the picture now." he chuckled as he crossed his arms, a tinge of irritation present.

"yeah, he is." you hardened your voice - he knew it as your tell to quit it. "like i told you the night before i left. i couldn't stay. there was more for me out there. and after joining the bau, i now know it was in more ways than one. i love the work, although it's tremendously difficult and gruesome at times. i love the family it's given me. and most importantly, i love aaron."

parker nodded silently, rather disappointedly, but understanding nonetheless.

"i love him. he's the one, i'm positively certain he is."

he sighed as shoulders dropped, his words melancholy but supportive. "well, he's good for you. if anything about him being attached to your hip, or giving me the subtle death glare constantly the past few days, has something to say for it."

you laughed gently. "profiling the profilers?"

"oh c'mon, the way he looks at you? anyone can tell."

-

on the jet, you weaved down the aisle, past the team finding their seats, getting comfortable for the ride home. when you reached aaron, you wrapped your arms around his middle.

aaron's lips tipped upwards in a smile, his arms mirroring yours. "what's this for?"

you only tightened your grip, mumbling into his chest. he could hear your smile in your voice. "just 'cause you're mine."

[bhaalble]

I like that Last Unicorn quote as much as the next guy but I do always wind up feeling a little detached from analysis that paints Astarion's disapproval as purely envy. Partly because. No one's doing this for Lae'zel for instance even though she has similar disapproval and similar trauma (all she can remember is a hostile physically and emotionally exploitative environment which expected perfect strength and obedience from her or else she would be punished or killed). But also partly because it feels pretty detached from everything he actually has to say about it.

The thing about Astarion is he loathes weakness. He loathes sentiment and he loathes dependence. You can see this when he actually opens his mouth up about the people he disapproves of saving, but also incredibly loudly when he talks about the other companions, as well as his fellow spawn. If Lae'zel submits to Vlaakith he talks scornfully about how some people just come to love their chains. He's confused and put off if Wyll submits to Mizora to save his father. In every conversation with his fellow spawn (at least when hes not actively manipulating them) he's dismissive and harsh, and clearly he's perfectly willing to sacrifice them for the sake of himself.

There's an obvious origin point of those feelings, of course. Cazador's abuse is designed to actively kill off empathy in his spawn, both towards each other and towards victims. The last time Astarion prioritized someone over his own skin he got locked in a tomb for a year. We can see glimpses of it with the other spawn too, how his siblings are (apparently uncompelled at first) willing to drag Astarion back to their master for their freedom, how Petras' first dream of freedom is getting to drain another person dry. Astarion certainly doesn't seem to feel any real sense of solidarity with them, likely because Cazador understands that them building a community is a threat to his authority the way it was to his own master.

I'd also argue its Astarion projecting his own self-loathing outwards. So much of his quest is about his desperate attempt to escape from who he was. He's been given a chance to slip free of the limitations of being a spawn. He clings to that because of course he would. He also instinctively begins to run over everything in his path, because if there's anything he has learned over the past 200 years its that good things can always be taken away unless you make sure to remove any and all possible threats to that scrap of well-being. He's disdainful of people in need of help because they represent who he fears to go back to being! He calls his siblings "poor fools" while refusing to confront the fact that had it not been for the tadpole he would be in exactly their position, forced to cling to the hope that Cazador is telling the truth for once because escape isn't an option either way. He becomes irritated when Tav slows down to help the unfortunate because they represent roadblocks on his own path to safety.

There's an idea in mental health stolen from airplane safety: that you shouldn't help anyone else until your own mask is secure. What they don't tell you, speaking from personal experience at least, is that PTSD, especially for long term trauma, has a way of making you feel like your own mask will never be secure. And while that's scary, and it sucks, and there should be the utmost patience for it: no one is going to realize that mask is secure for you. Eventually you are going to have to accept the fact that you are breathing just fine. Eventually you are also going to have to accept that people asking something of you isn't them endangering you, even if it can sometimes (often) feel like it. It doesn't make you obligated to help them. But it does mean you have to stop reacting to them like a threat, because not 5 minutes ago that was you.

I think the idea that he's only mad because he's jealous is a gratifying fantasy. He didnt feel safe before, but now through your PC and the power of love he'll feel warm and cozy enough to forgive you for not being there to begin with. But I also think Astarion cannot live in a reality where he's never pushed back on. His instinctive self-protective movements are a coping mechanism, yes, but coping mechanisms developed under survival conditions can also be a way of keeping you frozen in your trauma. Outside of the environment they were necessary for, they can even hinder you from growing in the ways you need to grow to move past what happened to you. Sometimes, you need to stop a baby tiefling from getting crazy murdered by a snake because it turns out. That can happen to anybody not just people who are weak and stupid and deserve to die anyways not like me I'm normal-

[neteyamsmoon]

I need to let out my inner slut and tell you how much I want neteyam x human reader getting eaten out by him for the first time 😭😭

A helping friend

~ Summary : As the great friend Neteyam is, he always helps you and teaches you something new. But one day, he taught you what pleasure feels like.

~ Warnings : human reader, oral (fem receiving), dom!Neteyam, sub!Reader, first time, virginity loss, non-con, size difference, praising <3

~ Word count : almost 1.5k

~ Translations : narlor - beautiful ; yawntutsyìp - little loved one ; sevin - pretty (female) ; syulang - flower

It is true that you and Neteyam are best buddies since you were little. You two were always with one another, never being alone. If you were somewhere, Neteyam was after you and vice versa.

As time passed and you both grew older and became even closer. He began bringing you new things he found interesting and taught you about them as much as he already knows. He wanted to make sure that even if you're human, you know everything about his clan. He wanted you to know every plant, animal and weapon, to identify them as quickly as possible.

He thought he taught you everything you needed to know, but he was wrong.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Neteyam is finally free. All his duties for today are finished and he can rest in peace. He takes his bow and walks back to his family's hut, desiring a much deserved nap. Neteyam's a busy man because the role of the next Olo'eyktan doesn't come just like that, he has responsibilities too.

He enters the hut and places his weapons and warrior garments next to the flap, in their original spot. His golden eyes scan the area and find out he's alone. His parents must have left and his siblings are out somewhere, doing something probably crazy.

A sigh leaves his mouth and he storms out of the hut. He can't stay like that, alone. But he decides to visit his little human.

You are the most annoying thing he has ever met but he won't trade you for anything in the world. You are funny too, something he adores but also hates at the same time since your humour can be a bit too much for him.

Neteyam walks towards the lab, his long strides carrying him the distance as he arrives in just a few minutes. He pushes the door open and extends his large arm to grab a breathing mask. He brings it to his neck and lets it hang loosely around it as he lifts the mask to his nose and breathes in and out.

Neteyam makes his way to your room, knowing the way like the back of his hand. There, he sees you lying flat on your bed, a book in your hands. You are wearing an oversized t-shirt of Spider's since he doesn't wear them and a pair of shorts that belong to you and reach just below your butt. Neteyam had always joked about the way you looked but not in a bad way. He likes the way your body looks and wants you to know that.

With great care, he goes towards you and lets his big body fall on top of your fragile one, earning a surprised yelp from you.

"Get off!" you demand and instead of moving off of you, he chuckles and wraps his long arms around you, looking yours inside his to keep you close.

"It's not funny Teyam." you sigh and try to wiggle out of his grasp only for him to hug you tighter.

"Don't wanna." he mumbles in the crook of your neck, his hot breath tickling your skin. "I like to stay here, on top of you." you feel like going crazy. Besides him being heavy as fuck, he is also stubborn and hard to convince.

"You are going to crush me. Get off so we could talk like two normal people!" now your patience is running off but Neteyam doesn't pay attention. Man is in his own world.

"Have I ever told you I'm not normal?" you don't need confirmation, he is teasing you and has that smug smile on his face. You want to slap him hard. Right now, right here. But you can't! Why? Because he has you trapped underneath him. What made you choose a behemoth as your best friend?

You want to speak again, but he is quick to cut you off, "I brought you nothing today... but I guess I could show you something new." his raspy voice lingers in your ears for a moment longer. Something new?

"What do you mean, Teyam? You said you didn't bring me anything for today?" you ask but he chuckles again.

"Have you ever..." he stops speaking as his large hand sneaks its way to the band of your shorts, pulling at it before letting go of it and watching it slap against your hip. You breath hitches in your chest at the thought of him touching you. It's true that you never touched yourself before because you didn't know how. You wanted your first time to be special, not you masturbating yourself.

"No..." you let out a shaky breath as he runs one long finger across your already soaked folds, collecting all your juices.

"Then why don't we try, huh?" he's teasing you, enjoying the fact that from someone with attitude he turned you into a mess who can't even comprehend her own words.

You don't know if you should. Yes, you are best friends and trust each other with your lives but this, you don't know if you can allow him to take away your virginity.

As if he's sensing your discomfort, Neteyam places a wet kiss on the back of your nape.

"I will make you feel good, narlor. Let me give you a taste of what you never experienced." his plea sounds so good that you almost nodded. His large digit rubs circles on your clit, and you involuntarily arch your back in his chest.

"There you are. I knew you would like this." he continues to rub your bud, his eyes never leaving your tiny frame that was trapped under his mass.

"Neteyam..." "I'm right here yawntutsyìp. Tell me you like it, tell me you want more." when you don't answer, he pulls back. All the pleasure you felt is now gone like it wasn't even there. A whine leaves your mouth at his action, regretting not responding to his question.

"See what you did? You always talk but now you can't tell me 'yes'?" he lifts himself off of you and rolls you over on you back, your calves being put over his thick thighs.

"You are rude." you point your finger at him but he smirks down at you. Gently, he pulls down your shorts and is surprised not to see anything else under.

"Nothing? It's like you were calling for me." Neteyam leans down and takes a long breath, your scent intoxicating him. Your aroma is what Neteyam is addicted to from now on. His blue lips make contact with your hot skin, leaving sloppy kisses along your stomach and inner thighs.

He lowers his head between your small thighs and dives in. His lips wrap around your clit and sucks on the small bud as he teases your entrance with his thick fingers. You throw your head back and close your eyes tightly, the pleasure intensifying with his mouth on you. You look down at him and he's already staring, never breaking eye contact. His piercing stare makes you wet if not wetter. Neteyam can feel his fingers getting soaked around your lips and smirks, the corner of his lips tugging upwards.

His mouth releases your clit with a wet pop as he lowers his head, his hands coming to your thighs to spread them even wider. When his large tongue enters you, your eyes roll back from the overwhelming pleasure. You back arches hard and you unintentionally push Neteyam's tongue deeper into you. Of course this doesn't go unnoticed by him as he moves it in and out of you, his flat nose rubbing against your clit with every thrust.

"Fuck — Nete, I'm close.." you whimper and grip at his braids. Neteyam hums in response as he continues to lap at your juices like a hungry animal. A loud pornographic moan leaves your mouth as the coil in your stomach snaps.

Neteyam pulls back and wipes away your slick from his chin and jaw with the back of his hand, gazing down at your now numb form.

"You sounded so pretty, sevin." your eyes roll at his comment before they drift to the ceiling. Why didn't you do that earlier? You didn't know how to touch yourself but also didn't want to make a fool of yourself.

"Thank you. Thank you for showing me... for, teaching me what pleasure feels like. I think that's the best lesson I ever got from you." you say weakly, catching your breath though there is truth behind those words. Neteyam nods at your words and comes closer to you, lying beside you and curling his big body around yours.

"Always, syulang." he presses a kiss on the top of your head before he drags a blanket over you, wrapping you in it like a baby. He hugs you tightly to his chest and closes his eyes, drifting off to sleep with you in his embrace and heart.

[auteurdelabre]

As long as you want - Part 2 - Joel!Miller x f!Reader

As long as you want - Part 2 - Joel!Miller x f!Reader

pairing: Joel!Miller x f!Reader

words: 4.5k

Rating: PG13 (some adult themes)

Summary: You try to ignore the growing attraction you feel for Joel Miller as he shows you his softer side.

Tags:  Enemies to friends/lovers, Fluff, Mutual Pining, mentions of pain medication, stubborn reader, Joel POV in parts, Tooth-Rotting sweetness in parts, allusions of male masturbation/fantasy, sexual tension, NO y/n.

a/n:  Originally gonna be a one-shot but y'all wanted more and I can't say no to ya!

Dedicated to @katiexpunk once more because there's a good chance if she didn't reach out to me the other day, I was about to quit tumblr altogether.

part ONE here

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

You wake with a start hours later. The blanket over you feels heavy and the ache in your ribs is sharp. You squirm to relieve the pressure and pause when the sound of light breathing reaches your ears. 

You're not alone in your bed. 

Your eyes crack open to see a familiar face tilted towards you. Eyes shut languidly, mouth parted, face slack with sleep. 

Joel Miller. 

Up this close you can see the bits of grey in his beard and moustache, the lines at the corner of his closed eyes, the gold of his skin.  

His jacket is slung over yours on the chair and a quick glance down tells you he's taken off his boots and is sleeping on top of the covers. As you take this in you also see that your hand is clasped in his, fingers laced. 

How did Joel fucking Miller end up in your bed? And how did your hand end up wrapped up in his? 

You want to mull on this further but the acute ache in your ribs has started to throb. You let out a small whimper at the pain and like he's been shot Joel jerks his head up from the pillow, awake like a broad-shouldered bear, bleary -eyed and blinking. You drag your hand back from his loosened grip.

"You in pain?" Joel murmurs voice thick and mind fuzzy with sleep. He licks his dry lips, clearing his throat. "Need me to grab you another pill?" 

The way he speaks is so casual, as if the two of you were lovers waking from a dreamy night together. So opposite to what you really are: two people who can barely stand each other. 

"What the fuck are you doing in my bed, Miller?" You snap sharply. 

Miller. 

No more Joel. No more soft eyes and softer smile for him. As Joel suspected the pill did a number on you and you can't remember much. You don't remember begging him for a kiss and asking Joel to lay with you. You don't remember your murmured acknowledgement that you felt better with him nearby. 

It's back to how it's always been. 

Joel manages to swallow his disappointment before clamoring off the bed, hearing the cheap springs creak in your mattress as he does. 

"Sorry about that," he says gruffly as he pulls on his boots. "Was just tired I guess."

"I'm sure your own bed is perfectly adequate," you snap, the pain making you even more irritable than usual. You hiss, holding your side. Joel frowns. 

"I'll head out, just lemme grab you a pill first."

"Just g-"

"Quit it," Joel insists roughly. "You're in pain and this'll only take a sec."

His head is woozy from waking so abruptly. He blinks again before he spots your jeans on the floor. You watch him crouch down, pulling the small white pill from the pocket before he comes back to you, the small pill balanced on one wide fingertip. 

"Take it," he instructs.

But you're in too much pain to move, to take it from him. You're also too proud to admit it, hating that he's already seen you in such a vulnerable state. You want him to leave so he doesn't witness more of your wincing and the way your face is gone sickly pale with perspiration beading at your forehead. 

"Just leave it on the table."

"You need it now. I can see you're hurtin'."

"Joel just-"

He takes advantage of your mouth open in complaint, slipping his finger between your parted lips and placing the pill onto your tongue as your mouth closes around his forefinger in surprise. 

The sensation of Joel's wide finger on your tongue startles you into silencing, lips quickly circling his digit. Joel forces his focus to your eyes, knowing if he sees your lips around his finger he's going to lose it. 

You feel his heavy gaze on you as he towers above you standing next to the bed. You watch the way his eyes seem to grow darker. 

"Swallow."

Your own pupils blow wide at the rasped order. He feels the soft of your tongue dabbing against the pad of his finger.You stare up at him in shock before you feel the pill being pressed to your tongue and only then do you swallow. 

Satisfied Joel slides his finger out of your mouth before letting it rest on the plump flesh of your lower lip. 

His eyes never leave yours. 

"Frustratin' woman," Joel murmurs, finger lingering on your lower lip as he stares at you. Your cheeks heat as your eyelids flutter briefly. 

Then suddenly he's walking away from you, his hand stretching before turning into a fist. You watch his tall form lope out of your bedroom and then he's gone from sight. 

///

Kiss me again, Miller. 

The words haunt him. The memory of your lips snagged between his own. The way you'd sighed as you snuggled up against him. 

How is he supposed to forget that? How is he supposed to pretend things haven't changed? 

He throws the front door open, thankful it's empty. Ellie must be at school. He goes to pour himself a drink, even though it's a bit early for it. 

He can still feel your tongue against his finger, the way your mouth was so warm and wet and fuck...  He's so hard he can't stand it. 

He moves to his bedroom, his breathing labored as he shucks off his jeans and shirt, collapsing onto the bed with a growl. 

He takes himself in hand and tries to picture you and your soft mouth. The mattress squeaks under him as he starts fisting himself to the memory of your murmured confession, to the sensation of your mouth under his.

I've wanted to kiss you for so long, Miller.

But it doesn't work, he can't get there no matter how much he strokes and focuses. You weren't yourself when you told him that. You weren't in your right mind when you kissed him. It doesn't feel right. 

He lets himself go with a frustrated growl. And even as he pulls his clothes on and goes about his day he can't get you out of his mind. 

There's a softness to you that he's uncovered. Something you keep hidden. Something he desperately wants to unearth in you again without the aid of pain medication. But then he remembers the horror on your face as you found him in your bed and he feels the shame suffuse him.

"Stop it," he tells himself as he heads out into the cold. "Just stop it." 

///

The night moves sluggishly with you attempting to nap for most of it, your pain pill thankfully knocking you out for most of it. You wake to the rap of your front door. 

"Come in," you offer hoarsely. 

You hear tentative footsteps and try to swallow down the pain blooming in your ribs. Gemma is at your door with a bowl of what smells like soup and smiling gently. You notice that her hair is flecked with fresh snow. 

"Hi there," she says approaching you. "Thought I'd check in on my patient."

You try to bring yourself to a sitting position but end up crying out. Gemma places the soup on your bedside table, her hand flying to your forehead before she's gently moving up your shirt, eyeing your bruise. 

"No fever, thankfully. Swelling is as expected." Her eyes flick to your agonized expression. "Pain bad?"

"I'll survive."

"Good thing Joel was in the stables with you yesterday morning."

"Mhmm."

That's all you'll offer. You have no desire to tell her about waking up to finding the man in your bed. 

You feel your stomach gurgle as the scent of the soup wafts over to you. Gemma gives a sympathetic look before passing you the other pillow. 

"Squeeze this. I'm gonna sit you up."

You do so; a yelp of pain is bitten back before you're propped up in your bed against the pillows. You're still at an angle but it's do-able. Gemma brings a chair to the side of your bed, eyes alighting to your face. 

She does a few more examinations, fingers pressing against your side, her cold stethoscope pressing into your sternum. 

She produces an ice pack wrapped in fabric that she presses to your bruised flesh. You yelp at the sensation despite her warning that it will be cold.

"Sorry," she says ducking her head. "I know it's chilly. Gotta wear this twenty minutes, two times a day. Keeps the bruising down."

"Fine."

"You been drinking fluids?"

"Yep," you lie. You have No desire to share with her that the reason you're not drinking is because then you'd have to get up to pee. And the thought of getting up out of this bed seems torturous. 

"Looks like its just rest you need then," she tells you as she digs around in her pocket. "Now I brought some more pills-"

"I'm not taking any more pills," you interrupt her firmly, even as sweat beads at your temple. 

She goes to reply when there's another knock sounds at the door.

 Who is it now? The fucking Jackson City welcoming committee?

"Come in," you sigh. 

You hear the scuffle of heavy boots and your heart jumps when Joel appears at the door. He's holding a bowl of soup, the same as Gemma. Almost immediately you feel the air change when your eyes land on his before they skitter away anxiously. 

"Uh, thought you might be hungry." Joel glances over at Gemma. "How's the patient?"

"She's fine," you snap. 

"Stubborn," Gemma sighs. "She won't take the pain pills."

"You barely have any," you say to her, ignoring Joel standing awkwardly in your bedroom doorframe. 

"Well if you'd let me finish you'd know we learned about a shipment delivered in Teton Village," Gemma tells you patiently. "Gonna grab it when the snow clears."

Joel perks up when he hears that. He can see by the blanching of your face and the way you're gripping the bed sheets that you're in a lot of pain. But you're scowling at the news, not looking the least bit impressed with Gemma's news. 

"That could be weeks with the snow," you inform her. "The snow is brutal this time of year, not to mention the freezing winds. No one is gonna wanna go out to get it."

"But the point is we have a supply on route," Gemma argues. “So you can take these.”

"And when that shipment is brought back to Jackson and we see how much is in it, I'll take some pills then."

"You're in pain," she tells you firmly. "A lot of it."

"I'd be in more pain if I knew I was taking everything from the community," you snap back. 

The pain is not just in your ribs, it feels like it's everywhere. Your head is throbbing, your body aching and you want everyone to just fuck off. 

"You need sleep to heal-"

"You really wanna help me?" You grunt out through waves of pain. "Send me over some booze so I can get shitfaced and pass out."

Gemma can tell there's no reasoning with you. 

"I got whiskey at mine," Joel offers softly to Gemma. "I can bring it over if she needs it." 

"She doesn't need whiskey," Gemma sighs. "She needs medication so she can get proper sleep and start to heal."

"I'm right here," you grumble, hating how they're talking about you as if you don't exist. You slam your eyes shut. 

"If you're not getting me whiskey I'd like to politely ask you both to leave so I can sleep." 

You hear the two of them pausing, likely exchanging exasperated looks before you hear their dual footsteps head out the door. 

///

Hours later your side hurts so fucking much that you're almost tempted to crawl over to the Jackson clinic and beg for those pills but you stop yourself. You did this to yourself; you went into that fucking pen. 

Taking all the community's painkillers would be so impossibly selfish a thing to do because of your own stupid actions. You can't do it. Maybe when the new shipment of medication comes by. 

There's a gentle rap at the door and desperation is making you consider asking whomever is at the door to get you some dinner. You're starving and so thirsty. Your mouth is like a desert. It's so dry you can barely call out to whoever is standing outside your door. 

There's another knock and you can only offer a mournful sound of pain in reply. You hear the door opening and those familiar heavy footsteps thud to your bedroom. 

He's so broad, so tall, so serious looking. His shoulders nearly take up the frame of your door. 

"What do you want Miller?" You croak. 

"Nothin'," he replies in that familiar raspy tone of his, like dry leaves in autumn.

"You sure?" You sneer. "Thought you might be coming over for another slumber party."

Joel's cheeks go pink at that but he just swallows and comes to take the seat Gemma left beside the bed earlier in the day. 

"Nah I'm all rested up," he tells you smirking. It's then that you notice the amber colored bottle in his left hand. Your brows rise. 

"Is that whiskey?"

Joel nods. "You got clean glasses?"

"Glasses yes," you wince as you squirm and feel a stab of pain go through you. "Clean? Unsure."

Joel smiles before his attention is drawn to the two soups at your bedside table, still untouched because you can't move enough to get at them.  

"You eat yet?"

"No." 

Joel nods before he replaces the soup bowls with the whiskey bottle and strides from your room. 

"What're you doing?"

"Gonna reheat it."

"Just hand me the whiskey bottle." 

You know you sound petulant but you don't care. You want something that will help take the edge off. 

"You're in no position to be givin' orders," Joel tells you over his shoulder as he approaches your small hotplate. 

He looks around your space, finding his lips curling into an amused smile. He didn't really notice the other day but your kitchen is a disaster. Bowls, plates and forks are piled on top of each other in the sink. Your counters are littered with crumbs and pencils and odds and ends. 

"Your place is a mess," he calls out to you. 

"Yeah well I've been sort of busy the last twenty four hours," you snap back loudly. "Haven't exactly had much time for housekeeping."

Joel huffs a quiet laugh to himself before moving to look at your cooking surfaces. 

Your hotplate is in decent shape, probably because you take most of your meals in the dining hall. He knows because he often finds you eating with Ellie there. The two of you get along well. You're one of the few people she seems to stand without too much trouble. 

Joel catches sight of himself in the reflection of the kitchen window. He sees the gentle smile on his face before commanding it into a frown. 

Why the fuck am I here? She can barely stand me. 

But he hasn't been able to stop thinking about you. He needs to know you're okay, needs to know you're being taken care of. He knows you live alone, that you're more stubborn than he is and he's been anxious all day that you've needed help.

That you've needed him. 

Back in your bedroom you hear Joel moving things in your kitchen, locating a pot, finding a mixing spoon (when he does you hear him mumbling to himself and then the tap running). 

Eventually he comes back with the soup in one of your clean bowls and a spoon. He looks at you critically laying half wedged before he puts the bowl on the table. 

"Hold the pillow to your stomach."

You want to argue that you can eat perfectly fine like that but the smell of the tomato soup has your mouth watering. You do as he says, holding the pillow tightly to your midsection. 

Your eyes widen as Joel leans over the bed, wrapping his muscled arms around you by the middle, holding you tightly to him to keep you stabilized, the pillow between you.  

"Gonna help you scoot up," he murmurs at your temple. "Ready?"

"'Kay."

You feel breathless as Joel slowly pulls you to a sitting position. And despite how gentle and slow he is with his motions, the pain still takes your breath away. 

You let out a shattered cry before your forehead crashes into his shoulder. Your body is tensed, aching.  

You're so angry, so frustrated, in so much pain you just want to cry and scream. 

"S'okay," Joel soothes. You feel his hand cupping the back of your head. "Go on and let it out."

You don't even hesitate. You let out a small scream of exhausted pain against where his shoulder and neck meet, tears springing from your eyes as you do. All are muffled by the flannel he wears, coming out suppressed.  

"I know, I know," he soothes as he feels your tears soak his shirt. "I know that pain. Makes you feel angry at the whole world, right?" 

You give a whimpered reply of agreement. 

He's right. You are. You're angry at the horse, you're angry at yourself, you're angry at the clicker is you're angry at Joel and Gemma and anyone who's ever talk to you. You're also mad at yourself for getting you into this position. You just so fucking angry and in pain. 

Joel sees you gripping the sheets as he holds you. 

"Just breathe," Joel tells you quietly. 

"Can't," you mutter against his shoulder. "Ribs." 

You hear a soft chuckle from him and it reverberates into your body, despite the pillow. It makes you almost want to smile. He releases you gently against the pillows, looking at your red-rimmed eyes and holding in a sigh at your exhausted countenance. 

He takes a seat in the chair and you watch Joel spin the spoon in your soup, before placing the bowl under your chin and bringing the spoon to your mouth. 

"I can feed myself," you tell him shortly, but there's no ire in your tone. 

He nods and you take the spoon and bowl in hand. He sits back on the chair watching you eat hurriedly. He opens his mouth to tell you to slow down but clamps it shut again. 

He leaves and returns with a glass of water that you take eagerly and finish with a gulp. Joel refills it three more times and you finish each with gusto. 

He takes the empty bowl and spoon from you, taking your dishes to the kitchen and then returning. 

"Better?"

"Yeah," you nod. "I don't think I realized how hungry I was." 

Joel continues to look at you with a strange little smile on his face. You feel like you're being studied by him and it makes you frown. You're about to ask him if you have something on your face when a sharp pain goes through your ribs and you grasp at your side wincing. 

"Alright you did good with eatin'," Joel reasons. "You kept your end of the bargain so I will too." 

He pours you a small glass of whiskey in a clean glass before handing it over. You take it greedily, throwing it back. It burns all the way down, a delicious sensation that has you grinning into your glass. 

"Was wonderin' if I'd ever see that again," Joel muses before pouring a first glass for himself and a second for you. You bring the glass back to your mouth, confused. 

"See what again?"

"Your smile."

You don't know how to respond to that so you just look at the bottom of your refilled glass awkwardly. Joel takes a small sip of his whiskey, watching as you throw your second glass back as well.

"Slow down," he urges gently. "No point in doin' this if you're just gonna throw it back up."

He has a point. He pours you a third and gives you a stern look when you take the glass from him. 

"Sipping only."

"Don't order me around, Miller," you say sharply. "This isn't patrols."

Joel rolls his eyes at you, amused and exasperated all at once. You're such a hard little shell, so impenetrable at times. Joel thought he was guarded, but you're something else. 

The two of you sit in quiet, listening to the sound of the whistling wind against your home. You sip the whisky, wishing you weren't in so much pain when you breathed. You glance around your room, wishing it was tidier. 

Joel watches you, sees the way your eyes flit around the room and wonders if he could ever bring up the other night without you being horrified. 

"Why're you being so nice to me?' you ask suddenly, breaking the spell.  "You're never nice."

"Sure I am,” Joel says looking affronted.

"Not to me."

"I brought you home didn't I? Brought you whiskey? Cooked you dinner? I ain't all bad."

"You didn't cook me dinner. You heated it up."

"My favorite kinda cookin'," Joel reasons with a smile. The whiskey has him feeling warm and relaxed. 

You feel an amused smirk start at the corner of your mouth. You suppress it with a gentle sip of your drink. You let it coat your tongue slowly before you let it drip down your throat. 

"How come you're so mean to me?" Joel offers, though his tone is light.

"I am not!"

He sees the flash of irritation in your eyes immediately and he can't help but be amused. It's very easy for him to rile you up. 

"Are so."

"You started it!" You insist, wincing and the words come out louder than anticipated, the force of your irritation causing your ribs to ache. Joel is still leaning back insouciantly in his chair, regarding you with gentle amusement.

"How'd you figure that?"

"My first day on patrols, I was trying so hard to be nice and do you remember what you said the second you saw me?"

"Nope."

"You said; Don't know why they'd stick me with a newbie,” you say trying to imitate his raspy baritone.

"So?" Joel looks genuinely perplexed. "You were a newbie and I didn't know why they sent you to do patrols with me. Didn't know you were an experienced rider at the time." 

You falter a moment. You hadn't been expecting that response. 

"You were so rude," you insist, irritated that he's trying to pretend like he wasn't in the wrong. "Telling me I was holding my gun wrong, making fun of how I was riding."

Joel takes a moment, looking at the ceiling as he tries to recall your first meeting. He knows he thought you were attractive, he remembers that he was confused they'd paired the two of you up until he'd seen you ride. Your form was comical, but you were good on horseback, even better than him. 

But he doesn't remember disliking you that first day. 

That came later, after your snide comments and rolled eyes. When you shouldered past him in the dining hall and ignored him when he tried to greet you as you walked by him in town. He'd thought you were an uptight brat, a rude woman who put on airs. He'd had no clue he'd offended you that first day. 

"From what I recall I suggested a different way to hold your gun because each time you shot it knocked your shoulder," Joel says remembering. "And as for the riding... Well, you do look funny when you ride. Even if you're good at it, you bounce too much." 

"Better than that stupid way you roll your hips," you bite back. 

You can picture it now, one hand on the reigns, tilted back, hips rolling with each step of the horse. Joel raises the glass to his mouth, eyes stuck on yours. 

"Why're you watchin' my hips?"

His voice is a low purr and there it is again. That thread of teasing that borders on something else. Something... Enticing. It reminds you of the other day in the stables, before everything had gone pear shaped.

You think I'm handsome? You sure, darlin'? You’re gettin' mighty flustered

"Hard not to when you're always going first," you sneer into your glass, taking another sip and feeling your cheeks heat. 

"Wait, so that's it?" Joel laughs. "That's your reason for bein' so prickly t'mer? 'Cuz I didn't know why you were assigned to me and because I tried to help you with the way you held your gun?"

"And the riding, thing," you comment lamely. It all sounds pretty pathetic out loud. Is that really why you've been so mean to him all this time? Because of a misunderstanding? 

"That's why you hate me?" Joel chuckles as if reading your mind.   

"I don't hate you," you mumble. "You just... Get under ... my... skin."

You feel like you want to talk more, but your third glass is drained and your eyelids feel heavy. 

"I think...I..."

You feel Joel take the glass from your hand. He keeps you slightly tilted, your head rolling back drowsy against the pillows. You feel his whiskey tinged breath fan across your cheeks. 

"How's the pain?"

"S'okay," you slur. "But I know it's gonna hurt real bad tomorrow."

Joel goes to rearrange your pillow slightly so that your head is better positioned on it. His hand hovers beside your face as he does this and you tilt to face it. 

"Thanks for the whiskey, Miller."

Unthinking you nuzzle your cheek against his arm before slipping into a drowsy slumber. 

Joel pulls back and sits on the chair, watching your placid face, your chest rising up and down under the sheets. You look at peace and he feels a rush of affection go through him at the sight. 

But you're in pain. A whole lot of it and he wants to fix that. Even if you don't want him like he finds himself wanting you. He needs you to be okay. Wants you back to your normal self. 

What would have happened if there had never been that misunderstanding that day? What if patrols had gone on casually, the two of you amiable? 

Would he have asked you for a drink? Would you be in bed together right now? Would his mouth be between your thighs, your fingers gripping his hair? Or would he have you under him, arms held by him above your head moaning his name - his real name, not Miller - as you gazed up at him? 

The thought sends a shiver directly up his spine. 

He stands; pulling your sheets up, making sure you look comfortable and settled before he leaves your home.  

He thinks about your conversation the entire walk back to his place. He thinks about how things could have gone differently. 

If only you'd both made better first impressions.  

If only that's how it had gone. 

If only. 

[feyascorner]

Imagine Tav who has a thing for deep voices (ahem Astarion’s when he gets all low and breathy and AHHHHH) and he notices. I’d combust

AGLAGKJL I HAVE OTHER REQUESTS BUT I SAW THIS AND I HAD TO WRITE IT IMMEIDATELY HES JUST SOOO....also warning this is a bit suggestive nothing terrible but i also haven't written anything other than fluff and angst in ages so i might be a little rusty....

You have barely any breath left in your lungs, and you think you wouldn't mind dying this way. He shoves the door to your shared room open with his back as you push him through it, lips molding against his in a heated wave of passion. Your fingers entangle themselves in his white curls, pulling at them just gently enough to draw out a low groan from his throat, and in an instant, he has your back pressed against the wall, both hands holding either side of your face as if it's the last time he'll get to touch you.

And as much as you wouldn't mind dying from suffocation here, being ever so perceptive, he pulls away to lean his forehead against your own, watching as your chest heaves up and down in a helpless attempt to catch your breath. He pinches one of your cheeks. "It's a relief that one of us needs air to remain conscious. If you were to become like myself, I'm not confident we'd actually ever stop."

"I never said we needed to stop," you say breathlessly.

"You don't need to tell me," he leans forward to press his lips against the area where he usually sinks his teeth into your neck. Instead of the familiar prick, all you feel are his cool lips peppering kisses on your skin. "Your body, and how it responds to me...it does all the talking for you."

And much to your embarrassment, his words are sent straight to the hammering of your heart. It must be the way he says it---so softly, yet rough. Teasing, yet honest. Low enough to drop his voice an octave but not enough to take away its usual charm. And the worst is the breathiness adorning his very words. For someone who doesn't need to breathe, he certainly sounds like he does it a lot.

You feel him nip at a sensitive spot of your neck and practically yelp, earning a snicker from the culprit in front of you.

"Your heart's beating quite fast, darling," he says slowly, almost in a whisper. "Are just a few words enough to rile you up so much?"

You remain silent, afraid all sanity you have left will snap if you dare to speak.

"But that's not all, is it? No, my sweet, you only feel this way about my words because I'm the one saying it," you can hear the grin in his tone. He pulls away from your neck, lifting his head back where he can meet your eyes. "Do you like when I say things like this? Vulnerable? Sensual? Seductive?--"

You slap your palms across his mouth, heat practically radiating off of your face, as you feel his fangs through his smile. He knows, you think, face paling. He knows how you respond to just his stupid voice, and you know him more than enough to expect the worst from the power you've given him. It's humiliating almost---but more than anything, you want him to shut up. To stop talking to you in that way that brings butterflies to your stomach, to stop looking at you as if you're the most desirable person in all of Faerun, to stop just existing in the moment---

Astarion gently pries your hands away from his face, satisfaction more than apparent in his expression. "No use being bashful now. I'm not offended at all. If anything, I'm rather flattered to know you find even my voice as attractive as the rest of me."

"Please stop talking."

"You don't mean that, clearly."

You grab a nearby pillow and smush it against his cheek, pushing him away.

With a soft laugh, he takes the pillow from your hands, placing it beside him to look at you properly. You want to hide away in a hole forever, but you can't do much other than look to the ground, beyond embarrassed. His obvious amusement doesn't do much to soothe you.

"Look at me, darling."

"Hells no."

"Will you listen if I whisper it to you?"

You shoot him a glare, and he laughs again.

So instead of convincing you any further, he takes either of your hands. His voice is low again, and you swear he's doing it on purpose. "We all have our quirks, my love. I enjoy drinking your delicious blood in our nights of passion, and you enjoy listening to my wonderful voice during them."

"Did you just compare this to being a vampire?"

"This and that. Same thing."

The quirk of your brow is enough to tell him of your annoyance, making him squeeze your hand with a grin. You'd throw him out if he weren't so pretty. Those long lashes, the white curls, that irritatingly beautiful shade of his eyes...Gods, you're helpless. But something tells you that the feeling is mutual. Wordlessly, you find yourself leaning closer again, and his grin stretches wider. "So talking lowly does seem to work its charm on you."

You snort, rolling your eyes. "Shut up and kiss me."

"As you wish."

[a-hazbin-reader]

Okkkk I am loving all the alastor with twins idea's 😍 💕 💖 could you do some headcannons where he takes the twins on day full of errands like going grocery shopping in cannibal town and a overlord meeting stuff like that

I'm just gonna add a new one here...

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

✅️Parental

TW: Kids being chaotic, Babies biting, Alastor X Mom!Reader towards the end

Description: ☝️⬆️

Normally, Alastor avoids taking the twins out by himself, preferring to double team it with his wife

It's just so much easier with you by his side

But when his wife needs a day off or is too busy to go with him? It's full on dad mode for him

He talks to them the entire time as if the three of them are having a real conversation

"Which of these two do you think your mother will like more?"

"Baba!"

"You're right, obviously we need to try someplace else."

Takes the kids to visit Rosie and pick up some of his secret snack stash along the way

Rosie absolutely hogs the twins and keeps them in her lap for the entirety of the visit

She coos and fusses over them, allows them to wear her hat and chew on her limbs

"Alastor! Look at those chompers! You're gonna have some real trouble on your hands soon!"

If Alastor takes them to overlord meetings, then Rosie and Zestial will each hold a twin

Rosie is content to just ignore what's being said and snuggle with a baby, smell their fresh baby scent

Rosie that's creepy

Zestial likes to blow on their twitchy little ears just to listen to them growl and bleat at him

It's a game to them

The twins literally can't get enough of Zestial voice and the way he speaks, always just hypnotized when he opens his mouth

Carmilla is secretly dying inside to hold a baby but won't admit it until Alastor offers it up to her

She melts the moment a baby is in her arms, smiling and rubbing noses with the baby

Her daughters will absolutely beg to hold them though

Velvette is pissed because she can't take photos of the babies or even hold one, the last time she tried, she almost lost a finger to those teeth

Alastor loves how he can basically control how an overlord meeting goes just by bringing in his babies

He wants everyone off topic so that they don't look into something he doesn't want brought to light? Good day to bring the twins

If he's taking the twins for a walk, then he's definitely got those child leashes so that he doesn't lose his babies

It's also to keep them from going feral and biting people but nobody needs to know that

If they run into Vox, then he'll suddenly accidentally drop the leash just to watch his kids take Vox down

The TV head won't be getting up without a few bite marks on his screen, Alastor holding almost angelic looking twins in his arms

"My most sincere apologies, Vox! Teething has just been so hard on the twins..."

"Oh fuck you!"

"Ba!"

"Not you!"

Alastor is surprisingly patient and understanding when it comes to his children's needs

He's able to quickly figure out what they want and avoid a tantrum

"Are you hungry, dear one? Papa has just the thing for you~"

And if they do have a tantrum...he knows how to get ahold of his wife...

He'll take them to a park and play games with them just to tucker them out, he actually seems like a normal dad in those moments

Usually by the end of the day Alastor can tell that the twins are tired and missing their mom

He misses her too

Is so exhausted when he gets home and collapses in your arms, rubbing his face into your shoulder

"How was your day out~?"

"Pleasant, but it would've been better had you been with us, my dear~"

You can't help but smile as his arms wrap around you, and he pulls you in for a generous kiss

That's the only moment with you that he gets before the twins push between you two

"BA!"

I love these family asks so much

[shotmrmiller]

Tormented by a Ghost

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

TW: small mention of smut and simon being kinda mean

TY TO MY BETA FOR MAKING THIS 10X BETTER @c-h-a-r-n-i-k

Tired of living with your family, you decide to move out. There's just one problem— Rent is too costly to afford on your own. You complain about it to your friend, and they tell you that they know someone who's also looking for a roommate and preferably another female. Fantastic!

Your friend gives you her number and ya'll are moving in together by the end of the month. It was great. No nagging parents, no micromanagement, nothing. You loved it. Until your roommate brings her man over. And he's a fucking bully.

--

You're crawling home from a hard day at work, and you want nothing more than some wine on a quiet night. Unlocking the door, you step into the flat. The lights aren't turned on so you assume your roommate isn't home.

Dumping your bag in your room, you make a beeline towards the kitchen. As you're bent over in the fridge, your roommate's door opens.

"Hey,” you call out, "I'm pourin' myself a glass of wine if you're interested!"

Then an assertive, baritone voice speaks from behind you.

"You must be the roommate."

You give an ear-piercing scream as you jump, whipping around to face him with a hand over your racing heart.

"Fuckin' hell! No, it's okay, I don't need my hearin' er nothin'." he scolds.

"What the fuck! I almost flat-lined with my head in the fridge because of you!"

Then you get a good look at him. This monster of a man is a minimum 6'3, with a black balaclava covering his face, a black long-sleeve shirt, and grey sweats. You tried real hard to not ogle the tattoo that stains his exposed left arm. And the grey sweats, we all know why. Cursed be your fetish for thick forearms and big hands.

He leans his head back, looking down his nose at you.

"I think it'd be an improvement," he says, "You face down, I mean," and your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline as he chuckles.

You don't know who he thinks he is, talking to you—a complete stranger— like that but you aren't about to take his shit.

You sneer. "Fuck you. Yeah, I bet that's the view you get the most. Women willingly turn away to not get a look at your mug. Did my roommate ask you to put that mask on so she could face you during sex?"

He steps forward, his height allowing him to tower over you, and growls out, "You callin' me ugly?"

Smirking, you roll your eyes. Of course.

"I don't see any other reason for you to hide your face. Not that it matters to me— I'm not the one that has to tolerate it."

His eyes squint at you as he retorts, "I'm quite the opposite."

Opening your mouth, you're about to tell him that he can say whatever helps him sleep at night when your roommate calls out to the big brute in front of you.

"Ghost? What's taking so long?" she asks.

You tried and failed miserably to hide your mocking giggle at hearing his name, and he leers at you in response. "Go on, Ghost. You're being called back into the realm of the dead."

As he steps away, he says with contempt, "Dumb little bird doesn't know what she's talking about," before walking over to your roommate, looping his arm around her shoulders and going into her room.

He probably doesn't even know your name and he laid into you like he's hated you his whole life. After pouring yourself a glass of wine, you shake your head and walk towards your bedroom. Freak.

--

One day, after having your friend with benefits over in the morning for some nice stress relief, you walk him out. And fucking Ghost is sitting on the couch with his arms crossed. You quickly shuffle your friend out the door, face glowing with embarrassment.

Why was he here? Jesus Christ, now he's going to watch you do the walk of shame around the flat. Hopefully, he won't say anything. As you walk away from the door to the kitchen to get a bottle of water, Ghost speaks up.

"Well, that was pathetic."

You hang your head and close your eyes in resignation. Should've known someone as toxic as he wouldn't mind his own goddamn business.

"What now, Ghost?"

He sounds oddly smug as he says, "I've been here for a couple of hours, and I didn't hear anything coming out of your room. Sounds like he doesn't know what to do with a cunt."

Behind gritted teeth, you grind out, "Don't worry about my pussy, bud. You've got yours coming in," and you hold the n as you look at your watch, "30 minutes. Now piss off."

As you stomp away towards your room, the bottle of water all but forgotten, you hear him let out a deep chuckle. He's an asshole. A physically attractive one, sans the face, but still an asshole. You're going to have to get your friend to come over more often if Ghost is going to continue being around with those jacked arms and deliciously tight grey sweats.

Sucking your teeth, you make a mental note to ask your roommate why she gave him a key to your shared flat without asking.

--

A week later, your roommate has Ghost over and you figure it'd be a good time to get some action yourself. You send him a text and in less than 20 minutes, you're letting him in. Hugging him, you tell him to go to the bedroom. But he's not paying attention to you— he's looking directly behind you.

Turning around to look, it's Ghost. Goddamn it. And this time he's shirtless with his arms crossed and a skull mask on. God fucking damn it. Pulling the arm of your friend, he looks down at you and you tell him to go on, that you'll be there soon.

He nods, walking away with one last look at the phantom leaning against your roommate's door. Exhaling a ragged sigh, you turn back to Ghost.

"Can I help you?"

He shakes his head mutely before responding, "No, lovie, but I can help you." You shake your head at his nonsense.

"No. I'm not doing this with you."

You turn to walk away when he speaks again.

"Yer really gonna let him touch you again? He clearly doesn't know what he's doing— Bedroom's silent as a crypt. Even with those glasses he's got on, he can't find what he should be lookin' for."

Insulted for your friend, you face Ghost with a disbelieving look on your face.

"You're not seriously standing here trying to cockblock me. You—" his audacity has you stammering, "You have no idea what I'm like. Maybe I'm just naturally quiet in bed."

Ghost stares at you for a solid minute before he shrugs and goes back to your roommate.

Unbelievable asshole. Why does he have to look so good shirtless, the berk.

--

You start noticing that Ghost is there a couple of hours before your roommate gets there and you'd think it's weird if you weren't too busy being distracted by the fact that he's always taunting you one way or the other. And then one day, you question him on it.

"You do know your girlfriend won't be home until the evening? It's barely 3."

Ghost turns his head from the TV to look at you and grunts.

"Not my girlfriend." That's news to you.

"Then why you spendin' so much time over here? You're gonna have me thinkin' you like spending time in my delightful presence." you banter with a teasing smile.

Ghost continues to stare at you and the heated look in his eyes confuses you but then he turns back to the TV.

"I can't stand ya, ya daft bint."

You pretend you don't hear the muted tenderness in his voice.

--

And on a sunny day, it all comes crashing down. The boys are over again, but this time Ghost is boring holes into the back of your head as you both go into your respective rooms. You're straddling your boy's hips shirtless when you hear your roommate's furious yelling from the other side of the flat and then stomping towards the front door before it slams closed.

After your bedroom door is busted open, the bolt being broken out of the faceplate from the brutal strength behind the force— and you're jumping off the bed and crossing your arms over your exposed chest.

It's Ghost and he's staring directly at your friend on the bed.

"No." He stomps over to grab your friend by his shirt and drags him off the bed and towards the front door before tossing him against it with a nasty-sounding slam.

"Get the fuck out."

Your friend is spluttering when Ghost cuts him off.

"If I see you here again, I'm turnin’ those silly little glasses," and he taps a lens with his finger, "into contacts. Now get the fuck out. I won't repeat myself." And with that, he trips over his own feet running out the door.

You're standing in the living room. eyes are wide in disbelief. What just happened? There's a moment of silence before Ghost breaks it.

"Your roommate won't be coming back today." He walks over to you picks you up to sit you on the kitchen countertop and lifts his mask over his mouth.

"Now. You're going to come on my tongue before I fuck you and personally test out this 'I'm quiet' theory, pet." You look down at him and sigh.

"I think I'm gonna need a new roommate," you lament.

Pulling the gusset of your knickers to the side, he says, "Don't worry your pretty little head over that. I'll be moving in with you. Also, no. You don't have a choice."

He digs his fingers into your thigh and purrs against your skin, “If you find it in you to scream, my real name’s Simon.” 

And with the way his usually sharp tongue delicately rubs against your clit, you can't find it in you to argue.

A/N: dreamt of this and it had me in a chokehold.

[ddejavvu]

HI!!! Please can i request an awkward!glasses reid oneshot where he’s like pining over the reader?? maybe with a bit of tension ;))) but he like slips up and says something like ‘god ur beautiful?’ THANK UUUU

The rain pouring down in massive, silvery sheets does nothing to dull your halo, Spencer thinks. Actually, it might make it shine brighter, a haze of mist clouding your form as you traipse through the downpour.

"Seattle sucks!" You gush, raising a hand to smear away the wet strands of your hair that cling to your face, "God, why can't Arizona have another murderer running around?"

"The rain is actually a good forensic countermeasure - it washes the blood away so that he can drag the body wherever he wants and we won't be able to follow his trail." Spencer has to shout to be heard over the splattering of water upon the sidewalk, and he tries not to cry as he feels water seeping into his boots. Rossi had treated the entire team to a pair of galoshes after his precious Italian leather shoes became mottled with mud, and though they're helpful for trekking through the storm, they're also fantastic at catching rainwater.

"I hate it when serial killers are smarter than us!" You plunge your hand into the pocket of your jacket, digging out the key fob for the car. You unlock it with a beep and the taillights shine in the storm. You're more than happy to throw the door open and slip out of your jacket, taking minimal rain damage to your outfit as you slide swiftly onto the driver's seat of the van.

Spencer hears you let out a groan as the car roars to life, and so does the heater. You throw your head back against the seat, hair stringy and soaked, face dripping with rain.

One droplet slides down your nose and dips between the curve of your lips, something you can't bring yourself to care about as the heater blasts the chill from your blood. He watches you melt into the seat, and only one thought comes to mind: "You're beautiful."

His voice is a quiet murmur, and he's also speaking over the torrential downpour outside, so you don't catch what he says, thankfully. He doesn't know why his brain had miscalculated his thought and sent it down through his mouth instead of just his head, but he fumbles to snatch the opportunity you give him to save himself.

"Hm?" You turn to look at him, brows slightly raised in curiosity.

"My boots are full!" He blurts, cheeks red but not from the heat as he reaches for one of his rain-soaked shoes, "I- I- There's rainwater in my- my boots, and I need to-" He tugs the rubber off of his foot and turns it upside-down outside of the car so that it splashes off of the pavement, and he jams it back over his soaked sock while furiously avoiding eye contact.

Your pants were looser than Spencer's own, and you'd been able to tuck them over the mouth of your boots. Yours aren't even remotely soggy inside, so you laugh incredulously as he releases his tsunami before you drive off.

"Spence, that's insane," You watch as he stuffs the second boot back onto his foot, "You poor thing, are your socks all wet?"

"Yeah," He breathes, finally shutting the car door and trying to relax his tensely-held muscles as he comes down from his embarrassment, "Uh- yeah it's fine, though. They'll dry out."

"Use the foot heater," You flick a button on the center console, and hot air seeps from a vent beneath the glove compartment, "That better?"

"Yeah," Spencer toes off his boots, letting the warmth aid his chilled skin and damp attire, "Thanks, Y/N."

"Thank you," You nod and turn your eyes to the road as you pull out of the parking lot.

"For what?" Spencer looks briefly over at you, glasses spattered with raindrops.

"For calling me beautiful," You grin.

[19burstraat]

I noticed on my duology reread that Wylan and Kaz's first days in the Barrel are really closely paralleled. Like, really closely. Obviously they both have to swim to escape, but once they're out of the water, Wylan refuses to close his eyes because he'll never open them again; Kaz physically can't go to close Jordie's, because he'll drown if he goes back into the water. Wylan still has a good amount of money that Van Eck gave him, wet but spendable; Kaz mugs a kid for pennies and some sweets. Wylan hides in the boardinghouse for days until he's hungry enough to venture out, where he buys some kind of fried potatoes and eats so fast he burns his mouth; Kaz has starved for so long that he gets the stolen liquorice and eats it so fast he immediately throws it all back up. He buys one bread roll with the pennies and is given a second 'just to stay away'. Wylan wants to do 'honest' work, and Kaz immediately starts working in gambling halls, fighting, and doing jobs for gangs. Both are driven into the arms of the Dregs by the antagonistic 'father' figure— Wylan won't join until the letters from Van Eck start arriving, and he realises he needs to make real money to be able to disappear, and Kaz won't join because he doesn't care, until he knows Hertzoon is really Rollins, at which point he realises he needs a gang.

Similar boys, different provenance, different outcome. Who's to say Wylan wouldn't have immediately become like Kaz, if he hadn't had the money? Perhaps with more time and more desperation, once the money was gone and the letters were piling up, he would have done. But, importantly, Kaz doesn't let him stay in the Barrel long enough to find out. It's hard to know how much of his meddling in Wylan's fortunes is due to him consciously noting their similarities (and how many of the similarities he actually knows is also up for debate), but Kaz DEFINITELY puts a foot in the door, so to speak, whatever he might think his reasons are.

[toxicanonymity]

ring doorbell 🚪

5400 words, stepdad!Joel x f!reader

stepdad master

Summary: Joel holds it together at a Christmas party, only to show up at your apartment later. WARNINGS: I8+ stepcest, toxic fluff, f masturbation, party-typical alcohol, angst, reader dacryphilia, grinding, unsafe P in V INTERCOURSE FINALLY ❤️‍🔥 (he's clean, I tested him myself), pulling out (this time), big mess of cum. A/N: dedicated to @gracieispunk 🤍 (bc he's always been her #1) and all of stepdad's fans ✊💦

---------

Note: not a big deal but white elephant gift /party explanation if you don't know

This is the wk before Xmas week like 12/16/23 yes the whole fic is mildly in the future lmao the exorcist comes out this October.

-------

You still haven't snapchatted Joel back. After he sends nothing one day, you think about it a lot. You want to send him your own, but you can't decide what to send. You never used to overthink it, but after all this, whatever you send feels like a big deal. The next day, you're lounging on your bed thinking about it when you get a notification.  

[Snapchat: J. has shared a photo with you] 

You've gotten yourself off to Joel's snaps so many times  that as soon as you get the notification, you're throbbing.  You’re also relieved–after going a whole day with nothing from him, you were getting anxious.  It's a rainy day and you're doing nothing, so you get out your silicone Joel but it’s dead.  You change the batteries, silently thanking Joel for his foresight, and fold a towel under you.  Before you open his Snapchat, you get yourself close with nothing but your imagination. 

You imagine him showing up at your door, eyelids red, cheeks still wet with tears, unable to speak he's so desperate for you. Latching onto your lips as he barges into your apartment, hands cradling your head, pulling your face into his. Kissing you like he's starving.  Taking off each other's clothes on the way to your room without a single word spoken until he's on your bed and rasps "I fuckin' need you right now" as he gets between your legs. Tangling your fingers in his hair as his bare chest hovers over yours and his cock hangs heavily onto your mound until he reaches down and puts it where you need it.  His lips on yours again. His tongue pushing into your mouth as he pushes his cock into you.  Your legs wrapping around him as your body swallows his length. Joel pounding into you, moaning that moan you've heard so many times now, his skin against yours, thrusting into you, approaching that moment where he'll give you the biggest load you could imagine. 

At this point, you open the snap, and it's not what you expect. 

Photo: Close-up selfie of his face and bare shoulders. His shoulders are so muscular and tan that it takes you a moment to realize his head is resting on your pillow, in your room (at their house). His eyes are large and his brow is furrowed. He looks tired. Caption: Hope this is okay.  

A lewd snap could follow any minute, but the first one makes you cum.  Just the sight of his face, the face that would be right up against yours with that big, hard, beautiful cock finally inside you. Fuck. You keep staring at his face the whole time you cum.  You almost kiss your fucking phone.  This has gotten that out of hand.  You leave it on read.  It's sweet how he's being careful, almost timid.  But at the same time, bold to go into your room.  Hope this is ok.  You fall asleep, and when you wake up, there's another photo from him, just four minutes earlier. 

Photo (82 min after the first one): Close-up selfie on his side, hair is tousled. Arm looking huge. Eyes weak. Hugging one of your pillows.  The corner is covering his chin and mouth. Caption: Good nap.  

He just wanted to take a nap in your room? Your heart flutters, which is a little uncomfortable, like it's easier when he's just nasty. But you can't deny you like this sweet side of him. He doesn't know it, but you basically just took a nap together.

—------

The next morning, Joel sends another Snapchat.

Video: He's in your bed again, laying on his side shirtless with strong shoulders, muscle cleavage, and sleepy eyes as if he slept there all night. His voice is hushed. "Mornin', beautiful” (he yawns) “So about tonight . . .I'm not gonna make it weird, ok? I'll act normal."

Video (less than a minute later): He's in the same position but holding his phone further out and at an angle and your covers are pulled down so you can see a lot more of his torso. He says, "Hope you're still comin'." 

Later that day

Photo: Mirror selfie in a red and white fair isle sweater and a mostly straight face but his eyes are a little sad. Caption: See? Normal. 

There's a family Christmas party, and you're anxious despite Joel's assurances. Can you act normal? You haven't tried in person since that night with Jacques. If Joel is finally as willing as he seems, for some reason, that makes you nervous. For months now, you've been trying to break him down, often thinking it might never happen. Even with his dick pressed right up against your leggings on Thanksgiving, it felt far away. Now after weeks of no physical contact, it feels closer than ever. And as much as you wanna make your move on Mr. Cant-believe-he-ever-turned-you-down, you're unexpectedly anxious. 

—------

When you get to your cousin's house, both Joel’s SUV and your Mom's car are there.  A small mob greets you at the door.  One of your aunts takes your white elephant gift off your hands. Joel is nearby, quietly sipping a drink.  Looking over another aunt's shoulder as she hugs you, you can see how the sweater hugs Joel's biceps and has polar bears in the pattern.  Does he have to be so cute? As you finish hugging them hello, Joel puts down his drink and tacks himself onto the end of the hug train. 

He looks you in the eye with a subtle smile – sad but hopeful.  He lifts both his arms, meaning this is a full hug and your arms will go around his waist. As you get closer, his scent hits you and you have to physically stop your eyes from closing in pleasure as you inhale through your nose. When you first touch, there's a literal spark. Static electricity. You gasp and he chuckles. Not to be deterred, his scruff brushes your cheek as his big arms wrap around you and squeeze.  This brief moment might be the coziest you've felt all winter. You loosely embrace his waist, and when you pull back, he lets you go. You share a loaded glance, his eyes falling to your mouth as he wets his lips. An aunt comes to beckon you to the kitchen. 

When you glance back over your shoulder, Joel adjusts his glasses and awkwardly hovers near the door. He’s wearing khakis, and his sweater is bunched up above his ass.  Your aunt turns to say something to you and you whip your head back around and say "sorry."  

In the kitchen, your Mom says she feels like she hasn’t seen you in forever. “Sorry I didn’t get to meet Jacques. Joel said I just missed him.”  Joel comes and stands in the door frame, drinking out of his solo cup. 

“That was weeks ago,” you say, not feigning warmth.  

She asks if Jacques is still in the picture, and you shake your head no.  When you glance at Joel, he looks about as satisfied as you expect. He helps change the subject by asking your uncle about golf.  

One of the kids yells from the other room, "Uncle Joel! play Mario Kart with us!" And Joel leaves.

You overhear Joel say, "No cryin' when I beat ya this time." 

Followed by an outraged, "YOU DIDN'T BEAT ME!"

Then Joel says, "Oww!" 

—------

About an hour and a half later, you go outside alone to the deck for some air. The yard is dark. There's a trampoline and a treehouse. You’re leaning back against the wood railing, facing the house.  A lot of the adults are drunk now and the kids are being put to bed.  You want to leave, but the white elephant exchange hasn’t happened and you don’t need everyone asking after you, wondering what happened, whether you’re okay.  You’d rather serve the time at the party. Preferably without being social.

You figure no one will notice if you go up into the treehouse meanwhile. You climb up and use your phone light. There’s a lantern up there.  You turn it on.  There are papers scattered on the floor with crayon drawings of monsters and people including a stick figure with what appears to be a huge dick pointing straight toward the ground and he's urinating on a crowd of smaller stick people.  On another sheet, there’s a snowman with stick people for arms and they don’t look happy. 

The treehouse smells like cedar chips and melted crayons. You can hear the murmur of the party which grows louder as someone opens the door. You sit and scroll your phone, confident no one saw you go up there. You think about snapchatting or texting Joel but wouldn’t want anyone to see it if he’s too drunk to be discreet. 

—--

A twig snaps in the yard.  A few seconds later, the ladder to the treehouse shakes under weighty footsteps and Joel appears in the little door frame. 

"Thought I might find ya here." Fair enough–you weren’t anywhere else. He seems only a little tipsy. "It's almost white elephant time."

You look at each other in silence. His hair is messy. He’s so hot. You can't help but smile. He stays there in the doorframe with his big hands gripping the top of the ladder. 

You break the silence with crude teasing about how he stopped sending you lewd snaps. "What happened yesterday, you didn't nut?" 

He chuckles and looks down shyly.  "Takin'' a break, I guess.  And, uh. Wasn't sure you wanted that stuff.” He looks at you again. “Cause you never reply, so." It doesn’t sound like a complaint, it just sounds a little sad. “Guess I got in my head.”

You nod in understanding then rest your head against the wall again. “Guess I didn’t know what to say.”  

He asks, "But you like it?"

You raise your eyebrows, impressed, and slowly nod.  You say, "I guess practice makes perfect, 'cause damn." You take a deep breath and spread your legs, a symbolic gesture since you're wearing pants. 

He groans softly, making you tingle.  "Christ . .Don't get me hard while I'm on this fuckin' ladder." 

You reach forward and extend your hand to bring him in and out of view of the door. His hand engulfs yours for balance, but he holds his own weight as he crouches into the small structure. Unable to stand, he gets down on his hands and knees and looks around and asks,"Think this thing is stable?" 

"You're the expert." 

He laughs, then it fades and you both seem to realize he's on all fours between your legs. He clears his throat and sits back on his heels. He looks at his watch. 

"Do you, uh, wanna talk? We've got a minute." 

You shake your head. 

"I mean, we prolly should," he says softly,  then clenches his jaw and his eyes seem to weaken when you break eye contact. Ugh, he's so hot and pitiful. You rise to your knees and knee-walk toward him. He lowers his voice, "But we don't have to talk . . .right now." When you've closed the short distance, you watch his eyes glisten and smell the egg nog on his breath. “Maybe later,” he says even softer.  He swallows then cups your face in his hand and looks at your mouth.

After a final glance to your eyes, Joel softly presses his lips into yours and you meet him with the same softness. It makes you lightheaded.  You’ve never kissed each other tenderly before, but it turns you on just as much as if he had ravished you. Because it’s real. He’s really into this, and he’s stayed into it for weeks without taking out any of his self loathing on you, IF he even still hates himself for this. 

Joel's tongue brushes your lips, then you hear the sliding door to the house open in the distance. Your uncle yells "JOEL???" and you pull away.  Joel pulls you back in for a few seconds with one hand behind your ear and another hand on your ass. His khakis press into your jeans and your heart jumps when you feel his cock begin to harden. 

"JOEL! YOU FIND HER?"

You pull away again. He takes a deep breath, looks you over, and adjusts himself as he turns away. The uncle goes back inside.  Joel exits the treehouse first then helps you down the ladder.  As you brush off your knees and butt, he says, "shoulda told me you were comin' out here." 

“Why?” you ask and he brushes himself off as well. 

He hesitates and his face falls.  “I dunno.”  His eyes look more like his sad videos, like his cool facade is cracking.  “I was lookin’ for ya.”  His Adams Apple catches your eye as he swallows.  He puts his massive hand on your back for a moment, ushering you toward the house. 

—---

Your Mom gets too drunk and goes to sleep in a guest bedroom halfway through the white elephant game. Not the first time this has happened. 

You're in a chair and Joel is sitting across the room on a sofa, manspreading. He rests his hand on his inner thigh and your breath hitches. You cross your legs, clench your thighs, and try not to stare, but you feel him looking at you from time to time.

Your cousin’s husband Barry opens the gift you brought.  It’s a sweatshirt that says Cutie. He holds it up to himself and spins around for laughs. Joel glowers. Joel steals it when it's his turn and smiles when everyone laughs. No one steals it from Joel. At the end of the game, you hug everyone goodbye. Your hug with Joel is brief. 

—----

In the middle of the night, your phone wakes you up with a Ring doorbell alert. It’s Joel. He’s wearing the stupid cutie sweatshirt. He adjusts his glasses. He rakes his hand into his hair and looks around in a way that makes you wonder if he might regret coming. You lie there for a minute or two watching the Ring feed, but he just stands there waiting.  He braces his arm on the doorframe. His biceps stretch the sleeves.  You turn your lamp on the dimmest setting and get out of bed. 

You open the front door silently and he steps back as you open it.  His eyes are a little red.  He looks dead serious.  He puts his hand back on the doorframe and the sweatshirt rides up enough to expose a sliver of skin.  His Adam's Apple bobs and he asks hoarsely, “can I come in?”

You look around outside then step back and let him in. 

“I can’t sleep,” he says as he walks into your dark kitchen.  He shakes his head. “can’t sleep after seein’ you.”  His eyes glisten. “Can we talk?” 

You feel your heart rate rising and wonder if he can tell how nervous you are. You’d prefer to break the tension physically, but apparently he has something to say and you’re gonna have to hear it sooner or later.  You turn and walk into your bedroom.  You stack pillows and lie down face up.  If he's not willing to get on your bed at this point, you're not sure if you wanna hear what he has to say after all. 

At first, he stands at the foot of the bed with his hands behind his head, elbows bent forward in distress. Your eyes drift to his exposed happy trail and the way his joggers hug his groin.  “I dunno what the hell’s wrong with me.” He looks toward your window and chokes back tears. Then he kneels on your bed. “You’re never gonna know how sorry I am.” 

“Joel, I know,” you say softly. “C’mere.” You offer space next to you. Instead, he gets between your legs and your heart skips a beat. He lies face-down, with his feet hanging off the bed. His armpits rest on your upper thighs with his elbows and forearms on either side of your hips and torso.  It turns you on of course, yet he doesn't seem to be making a move sexually. 

“I am so, so sorry,” he says. 

“I know,” you say again. “We can move on. I don't wanna keep talk–”

“But,” he says, then pauses and swallows.  His eyes are big and watery.  “I dunno if you get it. How sorry I am.” a tear rolls down his cheek. He wipes it and takes his glasses off.  You reach out your hand to take them and put them on your nightstand. He whispers, “thanks,” as he dabs his eyes with his fingers which only sends the tears to his cheeks.  

“I know you’re sorry, Joel, I get it.” 

“No,” he shakes his head. “I don’t think you get-” He puts his face down on you for a second like he’s dabbing his cheeks on your PJs, then he lifts his head again. While choking back tears, he blurts out, “I’m SO fucked up over you." He blinks and looks away and another tear escapes his eye. "can't even fuckin' sleep except in your bed." He buries his face in your thin cotton PJs.

Now you’re turned all the way on. You take a deep breath as your ache for him deepens.  When you don’t respond, he whispers, “I’m sorry,” then puts the other side of his face down on you, his mouth below your belly button. His tears are dampening your PJs. “I dunno why I’m here,” he mumbles into the bottom hem of your tank top.  Your hips lift into his upper chest once, as though adjusting your position.  He ignores it and continues, “FUCK, i’ve been tryin’ to give ya time.” He looks up at you. “Tried to act normal tonight.” He shakes his head and his brow furrows.

He presses his eyes into your tank top one by one to dry them without using his hands.  “Then i show up in the middle of the fuckin’ night,” he laughs softly at how pathetic this is. It’s taking all your restraint not to rock your hips into him. You’re wet, so wet. 

—-

“Stop. Just c’mere,” you say quietly and open your arms. You lift your hips again. He looks up at you and the distress on his face dissolves.  As he crawls up your body, his big, sweet eyes begin to darken.  He puts his forearms down on the bed on either side of your chest and your eyes connect for a moment. Your lips part.

“You’re so. . .fuck,” he sighs, then presses his lips into yours. Your mouth warmly accepts him. His lips move against yours and he licks into your mouth slowly at first, like he’s savoring every brush of his tongue against yours. Then it becomes needy at a sensual rhythm. 

With your mouths still connected, he shifts his body. The warm bulge in his joggers meets your clothed heat, and then, oh god,  his cock hardens against you.  He softly hums, "mmm" as your mouths move together and he swells harder against you. You're throbbing, aching.  For a second, you wonder if you're having a wet dream (you're not).

There's a different electricity between you now. You can both feel it – He breaks away for a moment and looks at you, breathing heavily, and you can see it in his eyes. He's not crying anymore.  He looks at peace.  He rests his weight on one arm, and his opposite hand slides onto your breast, slowly palming it as his lips move with yours and his growing arousal digs into you. It’s the first time you’ve had his whole body against yours. And fuck, he feels good. It’s the first time you’ve been on a bed together.  That one time on your couch, he said it was dangerous being alone.  This time, he's not stopping, not even slowing down.

He didn’t regret it last time you hooked up, but now there’s a different buzz inside you now. If he ends up regretting it this time, you could get hurt. His rejection never deterred you before, but this time, you feel like it could crush you. You're not even sure why, but you have to somehow acknowledge it before he puts his head between your legs, or whatever he has in mind. 

“You’re sure you wanna. . . do stuff,” you begrudgingly say and inwardly shame yourself for the tremble in your voice. 

“I’m so fuckin’ sure, sweetheart.” 

—--

That's all you need, because you can feel it in his body, too. There’s no part of him that doesn’t want you. Your mouths embrace again and only come apart for heavy breaths and moans as your hips and lips move in rhythm.  His cock grows even stiffer and his hand moves from your breast, down your side. His hands are so big and masculine, but gentle. There’s nothing hesitant about his movements. He grabs your thigh, and you bend your knee. He hikes up your leg and pushes himself harder against you where it counts.   

He slides his hand down your thigh and into your soft sleep shorts, his fingers getting closer and closer to the pool of desire that's begging for him. When his fingertips reach your cunt, you arch your back and whine, pulling your lips away as your head tilts up toward the ceiling. His mouth comes to your breast and dampens your cotton tank top as he tongues your nipple through it. 

"Fuck," you say between heavy breaths.  You've never wanted anyone–or anything–so bad in your life. It's a need. 

You run your hands over his hulking back, feeling the muscles flex on either side of his spine, and curl your fingers under the hem of his sweatshirt.  He takes it off in a flash, his white t-shirt coming with it. He takes off your tank top, then his lips return to yours, his cock grinds into you, and you sigh.  

He breaks the kiss and pauses. His tan shoulders look huge the way he's hovering there over you. 

His voice is weak and hoarse. "Don't want ya to think I came here just to–"

"Shhhh," your hips lift and you moan at his hardness. 

"Ohhh, God," he rolls his hips into yours and sighs your name. He dips his head and noses your neck, then murmurs into your skin, "didn't come here to fuck ya, baby."  His scruff brushes your cheek on his way to look at you again. 

"I know," you say.  God, you need him so bad. 

"Okay," he whispers, then covers your mouth with his again, kissing you hungrily. 

Your lips break away, then you meet his eyes and tell him, "but that's what you're gonna do."

Joel reads your eyes for a moment, breathing heavily.  Then he nods silently and a surge of arousal runs through you.  "Yeah," he nods again. "I am."   

You pull him down so his bare chest is against yours. He kisses you hard with a little bit of tooth, making your lips buzz and your nipples harden against him. He sucks your neck, and his rock-hard cock presses against your clit rhythmically. You throb violently.  Then he whispers in your ear, "'m'gonna fuck ya, sweetheart," drawing a moan from you. 

"Now," you beg. You lift your shoulder blades off the bed, pressing him up with your breasts and stomach.  You reach around to his back and hook your thumbs into the waistband of his joggers. 

"Yeah," he breathes.  You tug down his joggers. He kicks out of them and you observe the massive tent in his boxers with a pang of need from your core through your heart.  He urgently pulls off your sleep shorts, then says "fuck," and takes his boxers off, too. 

You take a deep breath as you stroke your clit and spread yourself open for him. He moans softly at the sight of your fingers at your glistening cunt. He wets his lips as he reaches between your legs. His hand replaces yours, and he sharply inhales.  He spreads your slick around your folds and gently rubs your clit. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Yeah, let’s go.” 

He gets in position and hikes up your leg again. His head falls, putting his messy head of hair in your view.  He watches himself align his cock with your entrance, and your breath hitches at the first touch of the smooth head of his cock.  He begins to push inside with a moan, opening you up with his swollen tip.  Your clit twitches. His hips push forward, giving you more of him, and his mouth falls open as he watches it happen.  You both moan as his cock parts your insides. It’s happening smoothly, without effort, and the stretch is delicious.

Joel pries his gaze away from where your bodies are joined. He locks eyes with you, then plunges to the hilt and shudders as he bottoms out. God, the way his cock fills you up. His eyes glisten and his face looks like he’s in pain, but he’s not.  You catch yourself holding your breath, and you exhale with a whimper. Joel stays all the way inside with his swollen balls against you and closes his eyes, his chest expanding with air. “Jesus, fuck,” he whispers. His chest is heaving.  He opens his eyes and tries to speak. “You feel – god damn. . . you're. . .(a vocal sigh). . you–" 

You cut him off by pulling him in for a kiss. He twitches inside you and you both moan. 

After a moment, he slowly pulls his hips back, then pushes in again. "Mmmm" he moans into your mouth. All the times you’ve imagined this, you never counted on the contact of your bodies and faces together.  You could never have dreamed how full you’d feel. Even after having him in your hand. In your mouth. This feeling is new for you. It’s like he’s shaped just for you. He pulls back, then bottoms out again and groans against your cheek. How is it already the best you’ve ever had? He retreats, then slides all the way in with a punch of his cock as he bottoms out. 

"That okay?" he asks like he doesn't wanna hurt you. 

You nod urgently, "Give it to me."

He thrusts into you harder, working up to about once per second, at first. Breathing heavily, grunting, moaning, vocalizing constantly in one way or another. He kisses your lips, sucks your neck, and lightly bites you as your cunt hugs his cock just right.  He steals downward glances at your body and groans as he watches his glistening cock disappear into you again and again. He gradually ups the pace and intensity until you're whining.  

"Fuck," he sighs, and you whimper. "Too much?"

"Don't hold back," you shake your head. "Don't you dare hold back."

"Oh, baby," he says, then slams into you with all his weight. You asked for it, but you're really not prepared for the other realm he sends you to.  "Fuck MEee," he moans. He pounds into you, grunting each time he buries his cock in your dripping core.   He snaps his hips and kisses you sloppily. Your mouths are half connected and half moaning into each other's cheeks. 

You moan, “Jo–” but stop yourself. 

“S'okay," he pants. "You can say it.”

“Fuck, I–”

“Say it, sweetheart”

“Joel,” you whine.

"Oh, Christ," he pants.

"Fuck, Joel, uggggh–your--"

"Oh, Fuck"

"Feel so–"

"Yeah," he breathes, slamming into you with his weight behind it. “Fuck, baby–yeahhh”.

You feel the pleasure building in your gut and core as he fucks you.  Your sounds must seem increasingly distressed, and so do his. They tumble out of the back of his throat. The tension in your belly tightens. He lowers his chest against yours again. Your arms are around his neck and his forearms squeeze your sides. He manages to fuck you so deep and good, even while he's flat against you. His hips move like a mating animal. 

It hits you like a ton of bricks: This is it. Every other man is ruined for you. How could anything compare? Your own eyes prickle with tears.

Joel tries a few times to say things, but every time it devolves into a moan or guttural sigh. He makes sounds you haven't heard before. 

"Ohhh, fuck," he moans. "I dunno if I can–" 

You open your eyes and the agonized look on his face puts you all the way on the edge. He must be close. 

"Give it to me, Joel."

He pistons into you harder, all his muscles flexing.  You whimper as your thighs tremble. 

"C'mon, baby," he whispers, then he grunts. He growls, "Soak me, baby–ohh–Just fuckin'––nnngh"

You sigh vocally and start to clench around him.  You moan his name, long and drawn out as pleasure seizes you. 

You flutter around his cock and he gasps, "oh, fuck." You gush and groan, your hips lifting into him, mouth hanging open, breathing and whining at once.  

He pants, "Fuck–(a low moan), I wanna fill–ohhhhh, god (heavy breaths). Sweetheart, i really wanna–ahh, shit." He bites his lips together, his cheeks puff out, and his neck vein flexes. You’re still cumming. He grunts from the back of his throat as he pulls out and slaps cock down on your mound. He presses his body against you so his cock rubs your still pulsing clit. 

His cock is nestled between your bodies, and he’s grinding into you when he erupts massively with a shudder from deep in his chest.  His pulsations drag yours out as his cum coats your mound and lower belly. He groans as he slowly, wetly grinds against you. He breathes and gasps for air, still cumming. His cock pulses so powerfully, a hot rope every couple of seconds. 

With the movement of his hips and sliding of his cock, the warmth of his cum spreads around your skin, settling into your navel, and he’s still cumming. The obscene mess between you is sticky and growing.  Then, even after his balls have emptied, he stays on top of you, hard cock pressed against you, empty pulsations waning for what feels like minutes.  He's so warm and wet and hard. He lies there with his weight on you and dips his forehead to your pillow, resting his temple against yours. You both have aftershocks against each other as you try to catch your breath.

"Holy shit," you pant softly. Once he rolls off you, you're already sticking to each other near the edges of the mess where it's drying. 

—--

All you can do is breathe heavily. His lips find yours. He kisses you deeply, then pulls back and hovers over you. He brushes tears you don't realize you're crying off your cheeks and his brow furrows.  

"Shit," he says as his thumb brushes your cheek. His eyes are wide. "You okay?" He swallows and studies your face. 

You nod confidently and look him in the eyes. He bows his head with relief, then gently kisses you again. You're terrified he's gonna come down and regret it. Your wet skin begins to feel cold. You look down. "Oh my god." It's so much cum. You're covered in it. It's all the way up to your breasts, at least. It's all over him, too.

"Oh shit," he says with a small laugh. "Gimme a sec." He gets out of bed. 

-----

Cleaning both of you up takes multiple warm washcloths. You really need a full shower, but you're so tired and just want to be held. 

You move to  the dry side of the bed. You'll deal with it all in the morning. He turns off the lamp and gets under the sheets with you. You face each other, and he wraps his arms around you. 

You ask, "What time do you have to leave?" 

"I'm not worried about it," he says. 

There's a long silence, during which he strokes your shoulder with his thumb.

Then you whisper, "What now?"

"Mmm….We do it again, and again, and again. . ." 

You look up at him. "Are you mocking me?" 

He kisses you.

"I'm trying to have an adult conversation," you mock back.  

Then he whispers, "let's go to sleep" and kisses you good night. 

—-------

His Xmas party look 😍😍😍

Distressed stepdad art 🥹🥹🥹

Thank you so much for reading and engaging. Your comments and reblogs mean a lot!!!! I love you guys. You can follow @toxicfics to turn on notifications. make sure your phone has push notifs enabled for tumblr.

If this is the first one you've read, I strongly recommend reading the series (it's not long like prob <15k total). there are references to it in this.

------

All Joel:@ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @wolvesandvampires @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda  @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname   @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @gracieispunk @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @milla-frenchy @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @am-3-thyst @may-machin @pedromania91 @sloanexx @paleidiot

[rafeandonlyrafe]

glint of metal

words: 800

warnings: 18+ only, male receiving oral, reader is described as experienced and has a tongue piercing!, facefucking, drinking, semi public sex

rafe doesn’t expect to see the glint of metal when you laugh. he zeroes in on watching your mouth, waiting to see a peek of the piercing every time. he waits until the right time before approaching you, both a couple drinks into the night but not drunk yet, just slightly tipsy.

“your tongue piercing is so hot.” rafe says, hand planted against your lower back, pulling you closer into him as he speaks into your ear over the noise of the party, the loud chatting and pumping bass.

“want me to show you some more of it?” you smirk, pressing closer to rafe, letting him feel every groove of your body, the way your breasts squish against him.

you move quickly through the house until you find an empty room. you’re on your knees before rafe can even plant a kiss on your mouth. he wants to feel what its like to flick his tongue against the metal ball, but it’ll have to wait as you reach for his pants.

rafe watches you as you undo them with ease, clearly used to this sunken position, on your knees looking up to a man. hes just glad it’s him this time. you tug his khakis down, revealing his underwear, cock already growing against the fabric.

you smirk as your tongue sticks out of your mouth, dragging along his length. rafe can feel the difference in texture, but he wants to feel the coolness of the shiny metal. he drags his underwear down his hips, not caring that you were planning on teasing him longer.

you smile as his cock is revealed, not the longest you’ve seen but deliciously thick. you know its going to stretch your throat when you take him all the way in, but you don’t allow him access that easily, grasping the base of his cock to hold it steady as you press kisses to his length, tongue occasionally flicking out but not far enough to feel the piercing yet.

“come on.” rafe groans, reaching to tug at your hair.

you let out a giggle, teasing for a few more seconds before your mouth drops open, tongue coming out to protect his cock from your teeth, but also to stimulate him with the different texture. one he’s never felt before.

you sink down slowly, allowing yourself to get used to having him swelling in your mouth. rafe allows you to take it steady at first, just enjoying the way your slight movements feel.

your intensity turns up quickly as soon as you are adjusted, head bobbing up and down, greedily feeling along every inch of him, even moving your hands to his thighs so you can get all the way down to the base. rafe moans above you are loud and unabashed, not caring if people hear, not when he's got you on your knees in front of him.

“fuck, you're so good.” rafe groans out. it's not just the piece of metal in your mouth that makes the blowjob so good, you've clearly got a talent and a lot of practice. rafe is tempted to ask you if you got the piercing just to make your blowjobs better, but he doesn't want you to stop for a single second to answer.

you pick your pace up, determined to feel rafe release in your mouth, wanting to know what his cum tastes like on your tongue.

rafe meets your pace, rocking forward but still letting you dictate, making a point to slide your tongue back and forth with his every thrust.

you pull away from rafe with a gasp, needing to intake air as you press a kiss to his tip. “fuck my mouth.” 

rafe smirks. he was hoping you'd let him, but he'd take anything you're willing to give. rafe grips your hair on either side of your head, watching the way you prepare yourself with a few deep breaths before your jaw falls open, slackening as your piercing reveals itself, glinting in the low lighting of the guest bedroom you've found yourself in.

rafe pushes in, maintaining the pace that you started, but slowly building up until he's fucking into your mouth, tears streaming down your face, ruining your party makeup.

“fuck.” rafe groans, looking down at the mess he's made of you. “gonna cum.”

he continues to push down your throat until his cock swells, pulling back to jack himself off, tip held over your awaiting gaping mouth.

it takes him seconds to cum, white ropes shooting out and covering your tongue, causing the piercing to disappear as rafe moans throughout his orgasm.

“fuck.” he grunts out, tugging his cock for the last few drops before taking a staggering step back. you keep your mouth open despite the corners stretching into a smile, making sure rafe sees the cum you're keeping in your mouth before swallowing it, even going as far as to lick your lips.

rafe redresses as you recover, standing up and stretching out your legs, knowing you'll have purple knees come morning.

the conversation after is always awkward, but rafe just gives you a smirk, ever his charming self. “let me get you drink?”

“usually guys offer that first, but okay.” you giggle, letting him lead you out of the room and back into the party, not caring who stares at you.

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @cokepewpsii @mysticallystilinski @luvdella @aerangi @folklorsweet @yourenogoodforme @auryyz @mayhem-72 @thestarlithideout @marvelfanfics1recs

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

There is love in me, I swear (tell me there's something in you, too)

let me wrap my teeth around the world - series masterlist here

pairing: poly marauders x reader (gender neutral)

length: 1.3k

genre: fluff, hurt/comfort

warnings: slytherin reader, they're all big partiers, reader has a bad attitude but in a nice lovable way

a/n: I warned everyone that I would be posting for someone new and now you all must suffer the consequences xoxo but also do please be nice abt it I beg

There's always an air of confidence amongst the three of them, the way they lounge on one of the larger couches in the Gryffindor common room, legs overlapping and shoulders pushed up against one another. They're completely at ease, your brain supplies as you step up to them, and you remember vaguely that people have said the same about you more times than you can count.

There's none of that from you now, though, as you perch on the armrest and look down at James's beaming smile.

"Hey lovely, what brings you here?" The way he lets an arm grip your waist is natural, pulling you closer so that your hip is against his shoulder.

"Finally needed to come up for air? Snake pit getting to be a bit much, hm?" Sirius's tone holds no real malice and neither does the glare you shoot him or Remus's chiding look. 

"Came up here for some peace and quiet. Guess I'm not getting that, though," you shoot back good-naturedly, a hand running through James's hair as he begins to let his thumb rub circles on your hip where his arm is anchored around you.

"You, uh, came up to the Gryffindor common room for peace and quiet, love?" says Remus, amusement tinting his voice. You let your bottom lip jut out slightly in response.

"Desperate times. They're getting ready to throw another rager tonight and I'm just too tired for that," you say, a long sigh leaving your lips as you speak. James pauses his soothing hands to pull away from you enough to look up at your face, his brows furrowed and eyes big in that worried way of his. Remus and Sirius have perked up as well, and you find yourself sitting straighter at the attention.

"...You feeling alright, sweet thing?" Sirius asks. Your mouth falls open in shock.

"I'm not - I'm not that much of an alcoholic. I don't need to go to every party - you three aren't there, either." You look back and forth between the three focused gazes.

"Yea, but… what's a Slytherin party without you there? That's like - there wouldn't be a Gryffindor party without us." James points out. You arch a brow at him.

"Maybe you three just think too highly of yourselves," you respond dryly. Sirius barks out a laugh from where he's lying across Remus' lap and James makes a big show of pretending to be offended.

"Wasn't it you who called us Gryffindor's golden boys last week, dove?" Remus points out, a smile stretching across his face. You glare back.

"Alright, you can all shut up now. I didn't come up here to be accosted." You say haughtily, but Remus's smile doesn't falter and Sirius coos at you the way you assume he'd coo at something rather small and fluffy. You sniff indignantly and plant yourself more firmly on the armrest while James makes some gentle attempts to pull you down onto the couch next to him.

"Come on, lovely," James tries to coax you. You look down at him indignantly. "You can relax. It's just us," he prompts, smoothing a hand over your back. You shoot him another withering glare and, when met by nothing but his beaming smile, let your stubbornness slacken just enough that he can haul you up off the armrest, manhandling him so that you're suddenly squished on the couch between him and Remus, Sirius still lounging on his lap.

Remus puts an arm around you, the weight familiar as it falls over your shoulders and you begin to slump into it despite your stubbornness. 

"Aw, your ice melts so fast for us, baby," Sirius teases, leaning to poke your cheek gently with his forefinger. 

"I'll break that finger, Black," you shoot back, but there's no fight left in your voice. Sirius just laughs, leaning even more to press a kiss to your cheek, instead. You deflate a bit more, relaxing into the cushions and the heat of James pressed against you. He visibly sweetens at that, leaning towards you to press his own kisses up and down the side of your neck as Remus's fingers tangle with the hair at the nape of your neck, massaging slightly. 

"Alright, alright," you murmur, voice breathy as you squirm under the attention. Remus eases up, his arm wrapping around your shoulders once more to let you relax against him, James pulling back to look at you fondly. 

"Sorry, lovely," he flashes another smile. "Don't mean to overwhelm you."

"I'm fine," you say stubbornly. Sirius giggles in a way that you're sure means he doesn't believe you, and the faces of the other two reflect that sentiment. They let the silence hang, though, letting you gather your bearings.

"It's not fair," is all you finally say, in a voice too small to be your own. "I always know exactly what I'm doing and what I'm saying and what I'm feeling - until you three show up. Then I don't - I don't know." No one responds immediately and you wince internally, as you're sure it's so that they can all choose their words carefully. Like you're some kind of timebomb, your mind prompts you. Like they're waiting for you to just explode.

"I do," Sirius supplies, his voice carrying a sombre air that it doesn't typically. "I know what you mean, love."

"No you don't," you murmur petulantly, but he takes it good-naturedly, his face softening with nothing but love. The other two stay quiet - it's like they've suddenly stepped into a private conversation, even though they've been there the whole time.

"Sometimes," Sirius begins carefully. Tick, tick, tick, your mind reminds you. You bite your lip at your own perceived volatility. "When we're not loved the way we should be, it just takes a while to get used to suddenly having it. I… I do know how that feels, love." Your shoulders tighten at his words, something that feels almost like guilt burning in the back of your throat.

"I'm sorry, Sirius - I didn't mean -"

"Don't apologize. There's nothing to forgive. You haven't done anything wrong here. You aren't doing anything wrong with us." You bite your lips harder at Siriuis' words, his gentleness, tasting a hint of copper in your mouth when you bite too hard. Remus steps in at this, clicking his tongue in that gentle, reprimanding way that you recognize as he uses his thumb to smooth over your lip.

"We love you," James reminds softly, his hand finding a home on your thigh, fingers pressing into your skin ever so slightly as he holds onto you firmly. "Never-ending bad mood and all." You open your mouth to snipe back but close it again quickly when you see the humour in James' eyes. "Sirius is the biggest drama queen alive and we still love him," James continues. Sirius makes an indignant, wounded sort of noise that goes ignored. 

"Well… that's alright, I suppose," you huff, your arms crossed as you sit sullenly. James coos at you in a way that you should hate as Remus slides one hand against your cheek, guiding you to look at him so that he can pass a long kiss to your lips. You make an embarrassingly needy sound somewhere in the back of your throat and grip onto the front of his shirt, but the only evidence that Remus has noticed is the way he smiles against you. That and Sirius's jealous huff as he watches, unsure of which place he'd rather be in.

The three of you settle in as you and Remus part, him smiling lazily and thumbing over your lips. You press a quick, delicate kiss to the pad of his thumb before letting yourself relax fully into the couch, the silence that blankets the three of you forming a soft, comforting sort of thing.

"So…" Sirius begins. "You're really not going to go down to the party? At all?" You sigh and tilt your head back to stare at the ceiling.

"Yea, alright, we should go. Come on."

"Knew you couldn't stay away."

[souliebird]

[[and then I met you || ch. 14]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

pt: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13

Words: 3.8k

ao3 link

banner thanks to the wonderful @theradioactivespidergwen

A loud, angry voice wakes Minnie from her sleep.

It takes her a few moments to process the change, but once she does, she focuses on finding the source of the bad noise. It's coming from below her, a few floors down. She can't understand the words - Mommy says people speak lots of different languages so this must be one of them - but she knows it is Mister Chavez. He's a nice man who helps Mommy with the trash, sometimes. Minnie likes him.

She lets her ears open up more and quickly finds out why he is so grumpy - he is watching television. She recognizes the sounds as some sort of sport. Mommy says sometimes people yell at their television when watching sports because they love their team and get excited - but they aren't really angry. That makes her feel better - she doesn't like it when people are angry. It's scary.

But he is still being loud, and even though she knows he's not really mad, she doesn't want to hear him. Minnie wants to listen to good noises when she sleeps.

Her favorite noise to sleep to is her Mommy's heart and it can make all the bad noises go away and right now, she wants to be extra close so it's really loud.

So, Minnie reaches up and pulls her sleep headband down so it's around her neck and rolls out of bed.

Mommy went to sleep the same time she did, which is weird because Mommy also took a nap with her after they came back from the park. Mommy doesn't take naps - she's an Adult, but all day she's been sleepy. She doesn't understand why - they didn't do anything Big, like go somewhere special or do lots of things.

Minnie crosses the short distance between her bed and her Mommy's and quickly climbs up the bigger one. Mommy is on her back and under her covers, still asleep. The loud noises don't bother her because she can't hear them like Minnie and Daddy can. That makes Minnie happy - Mommy needs lots of sleep.

But she's hogging all the blankets and Minnie wants to get under them, too, so she shakes her shoulder, “Mommy, share the blankie.”

Nothing happens.

Minnie pouts and shakes her again, just a little harder, “Mommy, I'm cold, too.”

Mommy makes an upset noise in her throat, but she doesn't wake up or give up any of the blanket. Minnie frowns and looks back to her bed - she could get her blanket if Mommy doesn't want to share, but she likes Mommy’s blanket more. It smells like her.

Maybe she can crawl in from the bottom, near Mommy's feet.

As she considers this option, something new catches her attention.

Something smells stinky.

It doesn't smell stinky like the train or the monster her Daddy chased away a few nights ago - she doesn't know this smell, but she quickly decides she doesn't like it. It smells like wet and dirty and it's really close. It is inside the bedroom. She turns to start looking around, trying to find where it is coming from. Nothing in the room looks different and she knows things don't just get stinky. Something has to happen to make it stinky. She closes her eyes and opens her mouth a little like Daddy taught her, and breaths in through her nose. The smell is stronger behind her, so she tries to follow it, crawling closer.

She runs right into Mommy.

The bad smell is coming from her.

Minnie doesn't understand. Mommy never smells bad, ever, and she didn't smell bad before they went to sleep. Why does Mommy smell bad now?

She tries to wake her up again, shaking her shoulder hard, but Mommy just scrunches up her face. She doesn't wake up.

Minnie is starting to get scared.

“Mommy, wake up!” She tries tugging the blanket next, but it is wrapped tight. Her next idea is to start patting her face and that is when Minnie gets her next clue.

Mommy's skin is really warm, like she's been in the sun, and she's sweaty. Did Mommy go outside when Minnie was sleeping?

But that doesn't make sense, the sun isn't up. It's night time and Mommy wouldn't leave her alone during the night. Mommy never leaves her alone - she always has a babysitter.

Why would Mommy be hot and sweaty and stinky and not wake up?

She sticks her fingers in her mouth and starts to suck on them as she thinks hard - like she's trying to figure out a puzzle.

Minnie gasps when she realizes it - Mommy is sick!

Mommy has never been sick before, not that Minnie can remember, and if she's sick, she needs a doctor. Minnie knows how to be a doctor!

No longer as scared now that she knows what is wrong, Minnie slides off the bed and hurries to her toy chest. She has a whole doctor kit full of all sorts of things - it even has a doctor's coat and glasses. She takes the big bag out and sets it on the ground so she can pull out the costume and put it on. She has to push up the sleeves because they are too long, but it doesn't matter.

Now she's Doctor Minnie and can help her Mommy.

She hikes the bag up on her shoulder and brings it back to the bed. It takes her a few tries to get it up beside her Mommy - the bed is high up and the bag is heavy - but once it is, she climbs up too and starts looking through her supplies.

She pulls out the step-scope first and puts the plugs into her ears. She doesn't need it to listen to Mommy's heart, but doctor's do, so she's going to use it. She puts the end-circle on Mommy's chest and listens Hard. Her heart doesn't sound any different than normal. It is a little faster, like she's been walking around a lot, but that isn't weird. Minnie is used to that sound - so it's not why Mommy is sick. She puts her step-scope back into her bag and takes out the next tool.

She knows the little hammer is supposed to be used to hit her Mommy's knees, but they are under the covers, so she isn't sure if it will work. She tries anyway. She bonks where she thinks her knees are and absolutely nothing happens. She isn't surprised - Mommy's head smells stinky, not her legs. That is not why she is sick.

Her next toy is the therm-o-meter. She puts it against her Mommy's forehead and presses the button. The toy lights up, the screen flashing red a few times before becoming solid. She brings it closer to her face to examine. She doesn't know what the numbers mean, but she guesses it says her Mommy is sick.

She turns off that toy then starts digging in the bag again, looking at what she has to help. She finds the band-aida first, which won't help at all. That is for boo-boos and Mommy doesn't have one of those. She finds what she needs at the bottom of the bag and removes it carefully. She doesn't know what it is called but it gives shots - and shots help people not be sick. Mommy told her that - that's why she has to go get them from the doctor.

Shots go in the arm, so Minnie needs to move the blanket out of the way. Mommy wrapped herself up tight, so it is hard, but she manages to pull it enough so her shoulder is out. That is part of the arm, so it counts. She doesn't want to mess up, so Minnie takes her time picking up the shot-giver and pulling back the pusher. She places it in the middle of Mommy's arm, as low as she can get it, then pushes the pusher back down slowly. Once it's all the way down, she sets the toy aside. She remembers that shots do get a band aid, so she takes one out of the box and opens it. It's pink, to match the rest of the set, and it goes over where Minnie gave her Mommy the shot.

To make sure it works extra well, Minnie adds a kiss, then sits back to wait.

She starts sucking on her fingers again, not to help her think, but because it helps her not be scared - and she's scared her Mommy isn't going to wake up. She doesn't know how long she is supposed to wait for medicine to work - when she plays Doctor with her toys it is always right away. But Mommy isn't a toy. She sits and waits for what feels like at least thirty-two minutes before she tries shaking her Mommy again, “Wake up. Mommy, wake up, please. You gotta wake up.”

She doesn't wake up. She doesn't stop being stinky. She stays asleep and sick.

Minnie doesn't like this. She wants her Mommy to wake up and hug her and tell her it is okay. She doesn't understand why she won't wake up.

Minnie gave her a shot - that should have made her better, right?

Does she need to go to the real doctor? She can't go to the real doctor if she is asleep and Minnie doesn't know how to call the doctor to tell him to come.

Minnie sniffles, trying to hold back from crying. She has to be a big girl, she can't be a baby - being a baby won't help Mommy. She wipes at her eyes with the sleeve of her doctor's coat and tries her bestest to think.

What did Mommy say in their last Big Girl Talk?

They talked about what it means to have a Daddy now. Mommy had told her that meant he was like Mommy, but a boy, and anything that Minnie went to her for, she could also talk to Daddy about.

Maybe Daddy can help Mommy, like he helped with the Monster.

But Daddy isn't here. He doesn't live with them.

But maybe he can hear her? He has really good hearing like Minnie does.

With a new plan in mind, Minnie climbs off the bed and leaves the bedroom. The fan and a/c make lots of noise and he might not hear her over them. The living room is quiet, though, and she gets up onto the couch before looking straight up at the ceiling. Daddy was up there last time.

“Daddy?” She asks, “Daddy, are you there?”

She waits, but there is no answer. Maybe she needs to be louder? So, she tries again, speaking in her Outside Voice.

“Daddy, it's Minnie. Daddy? Can you hear me? I need you, please, thank you.”

The only response she gets is the city. It's not as loud as normal, there's not as many cars or people because it's night - people sleep at night. Maybe he is asleep and can't hear her? Or he is too far away and his hearing can't reach her.

If he is too far away to hear with his ears, she has to find another way for him to hear her. Mommy talks to him on her phone when he is far away, so she has to try that next.

Mommy keeps her phone next to her bed, so Minnie goes back into the bedroom. She's not supposed to play with the phone, but this isn't playing - this is an Emergency. She's allowed to use it for emergencies - even though she never has before. She knows how to unlock it - the numbers are her birthday - and the screen lights up. She looks from the bright phone back to her Mommy sleeping on the bed. It's rude to talk on the phone when someone is sleeping, so back out to the living room and the couch she goes.

She settles into the cushions then stares at the phone. She knows how to bring up YouTube but not how to call someone, but she can talk to the phone and tell it what to do. She's done that before and Mommy does it all the time. She just has to say the magic words.

“Hey, Siri, call Daddy, please, thank you.”

The phone lights up as it thinks, then the robot-lady in the phone says, “Uh-oh, I do not have a phone number for Daddy.”

Minnie pouts at the phone - she knows that isn't true. Mommy calls Daddy all the time. Then it occurs to her Mommy doesn't call him Daddy. She has to use his grown up name. She tries again, “Siri, please call Mister Matt, please, thank you.”

“Calling Matt Murdock,” the robot-lady says and a moment later, ringing starts coming through the phone. Minnie quickly holds it up to her ear and waits for him to answer.

He doesn't answer. It just rings and rings until another robot-lady starts talking instead, but Minnie doesn't want to talk to her, so she presses the big red button to end the call.

She doesn't know why he didn't answer. His hearing is extra good, so if he was sleeping, he should have heard it - like Minnie heard Mister Chavez. She tries to think of why he wouldn't answer and decides he must not have his phone - Mommy does that sometimes. She forgets her phone places, like she'll leave it in the bathroom.

Maybe he left his phone in the bathroom.

She makes another attempt, telling the phone again to call her Daddy but nothing changes. Only the robot-lady talks to her.

Minnie glares at the phone as she tries to figure out what to do. Mommy needs a doctor and Daddy isn't answering.

Her conclusion is she needs another Adult. She doesn't know many Adults. She knows Miss Apple, who runs Daycare, and Miss Linda, but Minnie doesn't think she is supposed to call them. Mommy never talks to them on the phone, even if they are Adults.

Daddy's friends are Adults, though, and she heard Miss Karen and Froggy tell Mommy to call if she ever needs anything, so maybe it is okay to call them? Minnie hopes so.

Froggy is Daddy’s bestest friend, so that is who she decides to call. If he doesn't answer, she will call Miss Karen. She wipes at her face again, clearing away any tears, then asks the robot-lady, “Hey Siri, call Froggy, please, thank you.”

The phone starts to ring and, to her great delight and relief, is answered after only a few moments. It sounds like he almost drops it before she can hear him breathing directly into her ear.

“‘lo?” A very tired sounding Froggy asks.

“Froggy!” She tries her best to not yell, but she is so happy he answered the phone and now she can help Mommy. Part of her wants to cry because she is happy, but she still needs to be a Big Girl.

She can hear lots of movement on the other end of the call before he answers her, “Minnie, is that you?” He sounds very Worried.

“Yes,” is her response, because it is her. She knows she is supposed to wait for more questions, but she can't help herself. She does her best to not rush out her words.“I need help, please, thank you. Mommy is sick and she won't wake up and she needs to go to the doctor.”

Froggy says a Bad Word, then, “where are you, Minnie?”

“I'm on the couch. It's rude to talk on the phone when someone is sleeping,” she explains, then adds, “Mommy is in bed.”

“Okay. Okay. Did you try to call your Daddy?” He asks. She can hear him moving around a lot more now and that makes her happy. He's going to come help her and she doesn't need to be scared. Froggy is an Adult and can take Mommy to the doctor and she can get better.

“He didn't answer. I tried two times and he's not outside. I can't hears him outside,” she tells him. Froggy knows she and Daddy can hear everything, so that is important to let him know that.

“Of course, he didn't answer,” Froggy says, then he says another Bad Word in a grumpy voice, before his voice gets Nice again, “Okay, sweetie, can you listen to me?”

“I'm listening!” She can listen really good and follow directions. She's a Big Girl.

“I'm going to call your Daddy. He has a…different phone he uses at night. I'm going to call that phone and tell him he needs to come over, okay? And I'm going to come over, too,” he explains.

“A different phone…?” She doesn't understand why he would have more than one but maybe it is an Adult thing.

“Yeah, sweetie, a different phone. But to call it, I need to not be on the phone with you. Is that okay?” Froggy asks.

“You're both gonna come?”

“We're both gonna come,” he promises, “I'll keep calling him until he answers, and we're gonna come over and take care of you and your Mommy. Okay?”

Minnie starts to suck on her finger as she thinks over what he said. She wants to stay on the phone with Froggy - she’s scared and she doesn't want to be alone while her Mommy is sick, but he needs to call her Daddy. Mommy needs Daddy more than Minnie needs Froggy. Part of being a Big Girl is being brave when things are scary and she needs to be brave for her Mommy. She drops her hand to her lap and mumbles, “Okay.”

“Okay, Minnie,” Froggy says, then he gets a nice voice again and she can tell he is smiling, “You did a really good job calling me. I'm proud of you.”

The words make her smile, too, and she tells him, “I'm being a Big Girl.”

“Yes, you are,” he agrees, “You are being such a big girl right now. Your Mommy and Daddy are going to be proud, too. Now, I'm going to hang up and call your Daddy. He might get there before me, but I'm on my way, too. If anything happens, you can call me back, and I'll answer. Understand?”

“I understand,” she says, because she does. Froggy will answer his phone if Minnie calls him. Even if it is night time and everyone else is sleeping.

“Okay, good girl. I'm hanging up now, okay?”

“Okay. Bye-bye,” she says because that is how Mommy says to end a call. She lowers the phone from her face and hits the big red button.

She decides to keep the phone with her and slides off the couch, putting it into her doctor's coat pocket.

Now that she has called an Adult to help, Minnie doesn't know what she's supposed to do, but she does know she wants something to hug to make her feel better. She goes back to the bedroom and grabs Pig and Scooby off her bed before squeezing them tightly to her. They are soft and smell like Mommy and Daddy and make things less scary. Everything will be okay if she has them.

She looks over to where Mommy is sleeping and frowns. She hasn't moved at all since Minnie went to try to call Daddy. Minnie sucks on her lip since her hands are busy holding her toys and tries to figure out what to do next, but all she can think about is how sad Mommy looks in bed.

Does Mommy know she's sick and that's why she won't wake up? Is she scared like Minnie is?

Minnie doesn't want her to be scared.

She rocks side to side for a moment as she thinks over how to make her Mommy not be scared, then slowly makes her way to the bed. She sets Pig down in the ground then, with Scooby Doo in her arms, crawls up to be next to her Mommy. With great care, she places him next to the pillow, then leans in to whisper, “Scooby, you need to watch over, Mommy, okay? I gotta go wait for Daddy and Froggy.”

She pats Scooby on his big head before slowly bending over to give her Mommy a kiss on the cheek, “Don't be scared, Mommy, Scooby knows a lot about being brave when you're scared…and he'll keep you safe, okay?”

Mommy doesn't respond.

Her doctor glasses fall off as she slides back to the floor and she knows she should pick them up, but she doesn't. Instead, she picks up Pig and goes back out to the living room. She opens up her ears again as she does - Mister Chavez is still watching his sports but the rest of the building is quiet. Everyone else is sleeping, even the doggies and kitties.

She tries to listen for Daddy and Froggy as she sits down in front of the television. She closes her eyes and remembers what Daddy said about looking for things. She has to Turn Off the sounds she doesn't want, like turning off the television. She squeezes Pig tight to her and tries really really hard.

Daddy isn't an animal, so she can turn off the doggies barking and the rats getting their dinners. There are no birdies or alleycats around to send away.

“Bye-bye,” she mumbles and closes her ears to them. Her little section of the world slowly gets quieter until she's pretty sure there are no more animals left to distract her.

Next is city noises.

There aren't many cars out on her block - just a taxi man listening to music. He's not Daddy, so she says goodbye to him, too, before he goes away. His car disappears around with him, since there is no one else in there with the taxi man.

Her head is really starting to hurt from all the loud noises she hasn't turned off yet. It's making her dizzy because it's coming from all over and it's hard to understand what it all is. Everything is starting to just become one big scream and she can't tell what is what.

“MINNIE!”

She hears her Daddy’s voice through all the other noises loud and clear and she can't be a Big Girl anymore.

She bursts into tears and begins crying loudly.

She doesn't want to be brave anymore. She's scared. She wants her Mommy to wake up and not be sick. She wants to get into bed and cuddle and watch cartoons on the StarkPad.

She wants her Mommy.

She wants her Daddy.

She turns off her ears and sobs and sobs until two strong arms wrap around her and she is crushed into her Daddy's chest. She clings to him, burying her face into his neck and lets him overwhelm her senses until she can't cry anymore.

Little Doctor Minnie passes out from sheer exhaustion, cradled in the arms of the Devil of Hell's Kitchen.

-----

a/n: everyone tell Doctor Minnie how proud of her you are

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