#like I’m not perfect but at least I actually showed I care about him

[part-time-zombie]

Favorite Child

pairings: prinxiety

summary: roman starts getting the feeling that the other sides don't value his ideas anymore, and when he sees them favoring remus over him he fears the worst and assumes he's been replaced.

tags/warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, angst with a happy ending, abandonment issues, patton logan and janus are kind of unsympathetic in this one, remus is just happy to be here lol

word count: 5668

Roman loved his brother. Really, he did. Even though they didn’t really have anything in common and Remus always found a way to make trouble and usually hurt him in the process, he still cared about him because deep down, they were family.

It didn’t mean he had to be happy about Remus replacing him.

Ever since Patton had realized how strict had was being on Thomas, he had worked on unlearning some of his more hurtful ideals, starting with the idea of some sides being “bad”. Janus and Remus were showing up a lot more lately, and while it wasn’t exactly easy to get along with them most of the time, Roman tried to at least be civil. That’s what Patton wanted, and if Roman cooperated then maybe things would work out.

At least that’s what he told himself.

He knew the damage was already done, though. He was rude to Virgil and a bully to Logan even after everyone told him to stop. He trusted Janus when everyone told him not to and shunned him once everyone decided he was reliable. No matter what he did or what he said, it always seemed to be the wrong thing.

He still tried, though. Every day he worked harder to be better, to do more, both for Thomas and for the other sides. Sometimes the others noticed, but most of the time they didn’t. Lately it was almost like whatever he did would only make things worse instead.

At least he could still live up to his function, though. He was pride and passion and above all, creativity. Thomas would still need him for videos, if nothing else. He just had to prove it with a show-stopping idea for this next project and they’d appreciate him again.

After several sleepless nights of brainstorming and revision, Roman had come up with a perfect video idea, one that was bound to restore his usefulness and his importance to the group. It was inventive, entertaining, and best of all original enough to garner plenty of praise, both from the sides and from the viewers that would no doubt love the video. He had been up all night and was desperate for some proper sleep, but that could wait. He was ready to share this with them first. He’d show them the work he’s done, and they’d be so impressed by what he had accomplished that they’d likely congratulate his work for the rest of the week. An armful of papers in hand, Roman descended the stairs with a triumphant smile on his face, ready to share his plans with the others.

Only to see Patton too busy making breakfast with Remus to even look at him.

Remus at least noticed him, waving him over to the kitchen with an eager grin. Patton finally glanced up in response and gave Roman a cheery smile.

“Hey there, kiddo! You’re up early today.”

Technically he was up late, seeing as he hadn’t slept yet, but he wasn’t about to point that out. He strolled over to them, letting his enthusiasm for his work take over.

“Yes, well, I was just too excited to share this new video idea with everyone,” he explained, gesturing to the stack of notes in his hands. “I think it’s some of my finest work.”

"Sounds neat, I’m sure Logan will be happy to read it after breakfast,” Patton replied.

“Speaking of, what will we be having this morning anyway?”

Remus gave him a devilish smile from where he stood by the stove. “The unborn.”

Pattons smile faltered for a moment, as did Romans appetite.

“He means eggs,” he explained with a slightly forced chuckle before brightening again. “Scrambled, in this case. Hey, did you know he’s actually a pretty good cook?”

There were many things Roman knew Remus as. Violent, demented, mischievous, gross and even a little scary sometimes. A cook, let alone a good one? Absolutely not.

“I thought he was only really capable of burning water,” Roman joked.

Remus gave him a look over Pattons shoulder.

“He’s honestly been pretty helpful in the kitchen this morning,” Patton began. “Turns out he knows a lot about what tastes bad or what’s unsafe to make. It’s been pretty eye opening for me. Plus, we’ve just been having a blast hanging out together. He beats me to the punchline with almost every joke I’ve told him!”

Roman felt something stirring around in his insides. Patton actually liked hanging out with Remus? More than him? It couldn’t be right, something had to be going on.

Remus whispered something to Patton, who reacted with barely contained laughter.

"What’s so funny?”

"Oh, it’s nothing, you wouldn’t really get it.” Patton replied, still chuckling.

Were they making inside jokes now? Ones that looked to be at his expense no less?

Logan came downstairs before Roman could interrogate further, silently walking past him and preparing himself a pot of coffee without even raising an eyebrow at the sight of Remus and Patton teaming up over an open stove. Almost like this was normal to him.

Patton finished the last of the eggs as he started a conversation with Logan, neither of them even looking over at Roman.

“See? Patton likes my food,” Remus said, leaning over the counter with a victorious grin on his face. “And at least I’m laughing at his puns, unlike some folks around here. One would almost say we’re becoming friends now.”

That’s not exactly the word Roman would use. “What is your scheme here, exactly?”

Remus dropped his smile in an instant. “No scheme, just two buds having a grand old time together. You got a problem with that?”

"What’s he got a problem with now?” Janus groaned, lazily slinking his way into the kitchen and joining Logan in line for coffee.

“Whatever it is, I want no part in it,” Logan answered, not looking up from the pot.

Remus barked out a laugh at that before returning to Pattons side, dutifully helping him in setting up the table. In all honesty, the food looked decent. Well, it looked that way. Who knows how it would taste, or what Remus would have put in it even with Pattons supervision. The others didn’t seem to notice or care, already commenting on the pleasant smell and taking their seats, with Remus smiling as he joined them.

“Aren’t you gonna join us, kiddo?” Patton asked, already digging into his eggs.

“And risk food poisoning from Remus’ cooking? I don’t think so,” he replied. How could everyone else be so nonchalant about this? Remus could have done something to the food or tampered with it in some other way. Why did no one seem to really care, or even mind that he was sitting there with them at all? Had they all accepted him already?

“There’s no need to be rude,” Logan scolded. “It’s not like we can get sick, anyway.”

“How about injured,” Roman corrected. “Need I remind you of the countless injuries he’s given me over the years?”

"Oh right, thanks for reminding me,” Janus snarked. “It’s not like I don’t smile to myself at the memories every day.”

Logan snickered in response, feebly hiding it behind another bite of food. What’s so funny about his misfortune? Surely Logan doesn’t hate him that badly, right?

"Now, Janus, be nice,” Patton scolded. Well, scolded was a rather severe word for verbally slapping him on the wrist with a feather. Janus only rolled his eyes.

“Anyway, do you want to take a seat regardless, Roman? Or would you rather continue to lurk there while the rest of us eat?” Logan asked.

Right. Roman had been standing there by the counter for a while now, still holding his gaggle of notes no less. Well, no better time than the present, he supposed.

“Actually, I was hoping you’d look this over real quick, if you don’t mind,” he started, moving to stand beside Logan. He set the stack of notes on the table with a resounding thud, beaming with pride at the level of work he had put into his idea.

No one else seemed to share his enthusiasm. Janus looked at the pages in disgust, while Patton and Remus strained to reach for more food over the mountain of paper. Logan looked like he wished he was drinking wine instead of coffee.

“I’ve put a lot of work behind it, I think it’ll be one of my best ideas yet,” he added, trying his best to win the others over.

“Roman, as much as I appreciate your commitment to this project, I don’t think you need to worry about it that much,” Logan offered. “In all honesty, these notes look like a mess, and it’ll take us all far too long to make any sense of them.”

Roman felt like he had been punched in the chest. He didn’t like it? How could he not like it, he hadn’t even tried to read it yet. “But I… it’s not… I spent a lot of time on it, you couldn’t at least just look at it?”

“Why don’t you try to get all of this organized first, and then I’ll see what I think about it later.” Logan gave him an almost sympathetic look, one only made ironic considering how coldly he had turned Roman down. “You should join us for some breakfast first, though. I’d rather you work on a full stomach then let you go the whole day without eating.”

Roman could only shake his head before recollecting his notes, his heart pounding in his ears. “It’s okay, I need to get this worked out. Don’t worry about it.”

He passed Virgil by the stairs, hardly registering the odd look he gave him. He ought to warn Virgil about who made the food, but by the time the thought had come to him, he had already fully made it back up the stairs. He only hoped it didn’t make Virgil too sick. Then again, everyone else seemed to like it. In fact, they were all almost happier around Remus than Roman. Had he done something wrong? Were they just messing with him? That had to be it. Why else would Patton choose to spend that much time around Remus.

It’s not like they all liked him better, right?

Noon came and went before Roman returned downstairs. He had spent the last several hours revising and significantly downsizing his paperwork, securing what was left in a single three ring binder with organized notes and an easy-to-read format. Surely this would satisfy Logans standards, even if most of the passion he had built it on had been taken out in the name of structure and peer approval.

Plastering a confident grin on his face that only mostly masked the blows to his ego he had endured earlier, Roman made his way to the living room once more to talk shop.

Logan was chatting with Janus over a bottle of wine and some paperwork, too preoccupied to notice him. Roman loudly cleared his throat, forcing them to bring their chat to a halt as they looked at him with matching scowls.

"Must you?” Logan groaned.

“But it’s important.”

“How can it be important when it’s coming from you?” Janus muttered, much to Logans amusement. Roman tried to ignore him.

"I just wanted to let you know that I finished revising my work from earlier, and if you’re ready to talk it over with me I’d love to work on next steps.”

Logan blinked, a neutral expression on his face. “Ah. What might those next steps be, since you’re so prepared for this?”

Roman felt his smile start to slip. He can’t already be losing the battle. “Well, we could get a schedule mapped out or at least get everyone else’s approval on this next video. If things go smoothly, we could have this out before the end of the week!”

Logan nodded, lost in thought. “I see. The thing is, Roman, we had already talked about video ideas while you were absent.”

Roman painfully tightened his grip on the binder. “You did? When? With who?”

"Over breakfast. Remus gave us some interesting ideas and I think we plan on going with his for this next video. If you had decided to stick around instead of leaving, you could have been a part of the discussion and added your own points.”

“I must say, it was a relief not to have you there, though,” Janus added.

Roman couldn’t believe this. Logan had told him to tidy up his notes before he would look at them, and now it’s his fault he wasn’t there when they all decided to talk about work without him? How was that fair? How was any of this fair at all?

“And everyone’s in favor of his idea?”

“It’s in need of some work, and we’ll have to plan out the finer details, but I do think it’ll be a successful video. At the very least, it’ll be something new to try out.” Logan added.

Something new. That’s what they were looking for? An original idea? Roman had dedicated his time to nothing else, and they don’t even want it from him?

“But what about my idea?”

“I’m sure it’s good, but- “

“You can’t say that when you haven’t even looked at it,” he snapped. “You said you’d read it, but you jumped on Remus’ idea without hesitating. I worked so hard on this, and you want nothing to do with it. What’s so special about his ideas that make them better?”

“Roman, please,” Logan said, fixing him a stern glare. “Remus is just as much a part of Thomas’ creativity as you are. It would be foolish to not include him in discussions about ideas. We can’t only rely on you for everything Thomas comes up with, now, can we?”

Janus failed to hide his smirk behind his wine glass, and Roman almost went over to him and gave him another bitch slap. Almost.

“I’ll look at your ideas later Roman, alright? Let me just figure out the logistics of Remus’ first.” Logan said with a sigh, already returning his attention to his notebook.

Janus gave him a knowing look. Liar.

Roman threw the binder on the coffee table with a huff before storming back upstairs, not even bothering to hide his annoyance. So what if Logan liked Remus’ idea better? It didn’t have to mean anything. It was a fluke, a one-time incident. This wasn’t going to be a new norm. It just wasn’t. Roman hadn’t failed yet, he can’t afford to.

It was late into the evening by the time Roman felt like he could leave his room again. Dinner already came and went, but he hadn’t bothered to join them. Odds are Remus had a hand (or tentacle) in preparing it just like he did breakfast. While the thought made his stomach turn, he was still hungry, and hopefully there would still be something salvageable for him to scavenge from the fridge for a late snack.

Roman descended the stairs quietly, no longer caring to put up anymore false bravado after the day he’s had. His lack of a boisterous entrance meant the two sides still in the living room had yet to notice him. Then again, it seemed Virgil and Remus were far too engrossed in their video game to notice anything right now, both of them staring determinedly at the screen as they sat cross-legged on the floor, controllers clenched tightly in intense death grips from the both of them.

Curious, Roman took a moment to watch what they were playing. It seemed to be some intense horror game, and despite the frightening monster they were trying to outrun, they both looked thrilled by the experience.

Virgil finally saw Roman standing rather awkwardly by the stairs and jumped in surprise. The screen flashed red with a banner of defeat as the character he was playing died, and Remus let out a riotous laugh at the whole ordeal.

“Geez, Roman, way to give a guy a heart attack,” Virgil chided, one hand clutching his chest. “And thanks for making me die, I was just about to beat that round!”

“No you weren’t, you’ve been eating shit for like an hour now,” Remus teased.

“Yeah, well I don’t see you getting any farther in this game yourself.”

Roman watched as they exchanged this bout of banter. Virgil was… having fun with Remus? Last he remembered, they didn’t exactly get along very well, didn’t they?

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Roman started, still catching himself up to speed. “It looks like you’re having fun at least. Would I be able to join the next one?”

Virgil averted his eyes for a moment, almost looking guilty. “I mean, maybe, but I don’t think you’d like it, and Remus and I were planning on playing until we at least managed to beat this stage. We could do something later though, if you want.”

Right, later. Logan said he’d come back to him later too, and he never did.

"That’s alright, I’m sure you’d rather get back to your game. I’ll just grab myself something to eat and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

"Right, speaking of, what’s with you skipping meals all of a sudden? Too good to eat with us now?” Virgil asked, an inquisitive spark in his eye.

"No, I just didn’t feel like eating what had been made today.”

"Yeah, but you like eggs last I checked, and you weren’t here at all for dinner. How could you know you wouldn’t want it if you didn’t even show up?”

Roman tried not to let himself sound too defensive. “Well, can you blame me? I have no idea what passes for cooking in Remus’ book!”

"Hey now, All-Star,” Remus said, a hurt look on his face. “I’ve behaved myself all day, and everyone else helped with the food too! I didn’t do anything that was too ‘me’ believe it or not, and I even helped out with the next video!”

Roman felt his insides turn to ice. “You what?”

Remus’ face lit up with glee. “You’re goddamn right!” he said with a wide smile. “I came up with a few ideas earlier and Logan said he’d use them in the next video! I get to help with the creative process now, isn’t that awesome?”

Logan still picked Remus’ idea over his? He’d worked so hard on his plans, organizing and reworking so it would be worth Logans time, and he didn’t even like it?

His eyes fell over to the coffee table, where his precious binder sat untouched and forgotten, a now cooling cup of tea resting atop it as if it were nothing more than a coaster. Of course Logan didn’t like it. He didn’t even read it.

So just like that he was rejected? Removed? All it took was one day for everyone to move on from him and favor the rest of creativity instead?

Remus’ voice cut through his thoughts. “You don’t have to look like the world is ending, bro. I’m finally being included in stuff, you oughta be happy for me at least a little!”

Roman blinked, coming back to himself a little. Virgil and Remus were staring back at him from their spots on the floor, the former looking slightly more concerned than the latter, who was currently rocking back and forth in excitement.

“I am happy for you,” he said, desperately trying to bury the tremble in his voice behind a smile that Remus seemed to appreciate. “This is big for you, and you deserve to celebrate it. I hope the video turns out well, do let me know when it gets posted.”

Roman headed back to his room before the situation could sour any further, all hunger and hope long forgotten. It was over. He had officially been replaced.

Roman shut the door behind himself before collapsing into his bed, too numb to hold himself upright. He knew he was being childish, and that all he was really doing was throwing a tantrum for no real reason, but he couldn’t help it. All his life he’s been valued, if not for his personality than at least for his function. He was a major part of Thomas’ life, acting as passion, pride, and creativity all at once. Even if he wasn’t a fan favorite anymore, he was still important enough to garner some level of appreciation. Maybe not now.

He was no idiot. He knew what the other sides thought of him. He was dramatic and obnoxious and self-centered; anyone could see it. A part of him had hoped they at least respected his role enough to forgive him for his mistakes, ones he’s worked on fixing. He thought that maybe he’d still have a part to play, that he’d be useful if not loved.

Guess he was wrong.

The second there was another source of creativity, they all jumped at the chance to choose it over Roman. All it took was one day, one off day for him, and he had already been completely replaced by his brother. At least the others were efficient.

He should congratulate Remus, really. After so long in the shadows, he finally got a chance to be listened to and involved in things, and Roman knows how much he wanted that. In truth, he was very happy for him, and will probably plan something to celebrate his acceptance and inclusion into the group; after all, he’s no spoilsport.

Then again, would anyone even want that from him? If he did plan a party, one dedicated solely to welcoming this new shift in dynamics, would it be something they’d even consider worthwhile? It wouldn’t have been about himself at all, so that would have to count for something. As Roman thought about it though, it probably wouldn’t count for very much. His ideas were overlooked without a second glance, even when they were only about work. What makes him think that something done for fun would earn any respect?

Remus took his place and he can’t even show the others he’s fine with it.

He should have seen this coming, honestly. With how much Patton was willing to welcome the dark sides into the family and the litany of mistakes Roman had made lately, most of which were directly to the detriment of the others, it would only make sense that everyone would want to get rid of him as soon as they had the chance. He wasn’t doing anyone any good anyway. Not even Thomas. Maybe it would be for everyone’s benefit if he just stopped butting in on things, if he let Remus take his seat at the table. Everyone seems to like him far more nowadays; they’d probably appreciate him being the new creativity.

It doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt Roman to think about.

No more late-night brainstorming sessions with Logan, no more baking with Patton, no more video games with Virgil. They didn’t want him hanging around, and as much as it hurt, he still loved them all enough to respect their wishes. If they didn’t want him rigging the votes at movie nights, or even showing up to them at all, then who was he to argue?

He had it coming, really. He took them all for granted, and it’s only fair he reaps what he sowed. He only hoped Remus would be kinder to them than he was.

Roman didn’t know when he had dozed off, but the last thing he expected to wake up to was the sound of someone knocking at his door.

“Princey? You up?”

Roman didn’t know how to respond. Sure, he was awake, but he didn’t really want to be. Not if Virgil was coming in to remind him of his new place outside of the family.

The door opened slowly as Virgil peeked his head into the room, eyes finding his own in an instant. Roman sighed before turning on his side, his back to the door and to Virgil. He didn’t want to deal with this, not right now.

“You doing alright?”

How the hell was he supposed to reply to that one? Firstly, it ought to be obvious just by seeing him that he was more miserable and pathetic than a kicked puppy, and secondly, it would be nothing but selfish and rude for him to bitch and moan about how much it sucks that he’s not the favorite child anymore.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Hell no. If he started talking about this right now, he’d never stop. Not until he said the wrong thing and sealed his fate and guaranteed that no one would want anything to do with him for the rest of his life. As if that’s not already the case.

He heard Virgil let out a sigh, followed by the soft click of the door closing again, and Roman felt an unpleasant mix of relief and regret. Sure, he ought to be alone, but being lonely and knowing that this would be his fate forever? Anyone would want to hold onto a rare chance of company. He wouldn’t want to do that to Virgil, though. He wasn’t about to force him to stay if he doesn’t want to. Still, a part of himself ached knowing that this would likely be his last interaction with someone, and he didn’t even say a word or look at-

The bed dipped as Virgil sat down next to him, not quite touching but close enough for Roman to feel his presence. Close enough for him to tell that he wasn’t dreaming yet.

"If you want me to go I can, but something tells me you probably shouldn’t be alone like this,” he said, his voice a soothing melody for Roman to hold onto.

“Look, I didn’t mean to just brush you off like that earlier, okay? Remus really wanted to play that game with me, and I guess I got a little too wrapped into it and- “

“I’m not mad,” Roman interrupted, surprising himself with how watery and choked his voice sounded. God, he needed to get a grip. “You were having fun.”

"... okay, but even if you aren’t mad, you’re definitely upset. I get it if you don’t wanna talk about it, but you shouldn’t be suffering like this in your room all day either. I’m not the best at this sorta thing, but I can get Patton if you want.”

“No.”

Honestly, the last thing Roman wanted was for anyone else to see him like this, especially if that someone was Patton. He wanted to help Remus get accepted, he didn’t need to deal with Roman throwing a hissy fit over it.

Virgil was quiet for a moment, and Roman could only imagine the look on his face as he tried to think of what to do or say next.

“… is it about him?” he eventually asked.

Roman shook his head no, as best as he could when half his face was pressed against a pillow. It really wasn’t about Patton or Logan or even Remus. Roman just needed to grow up and get over it. This was his fault, and ultimately his problem to deal with.

“It’s nothing,” he muttered, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. He hoped Virgil didn’t notice. He wouldn’t be able to handle it if he did. “It’s stupid.”

“Not if it’s got you this bent out of shape,” Virgil replied. “If it’s about the whole video thing, I’m sure your idea was a good one. Logan’s bound to use it for the next one.”

No he wasn’t. Not when Romans project was already collecting dust in the living room and repurposed into a paperweight. Not when Remus had already replaced him. Roman screwed his eyes shut with a sob as the tears finally started to fall. How pathetic could he possibly get? Crying like a baby all because he couldn’t get his way. Maybe Janus was right about him. Maybe he was an unheroic evil twin after all.

“Oh, shit I didn’t mean to- I uh… look, don’t cry, okay?” Virgil stammered. “Shit, I’m really not good at this, uh… can I just start over here?”

Roman could hardly form words past the sobs that threatened to escape with every breath. Some prince he was, not even capable of comforting someone who was trying to comfort him first. Not like he deserved that kind of care in the first place.

“It’s… it’s fine” he blubbered, too embarrassed to look at Virgil. “He had the better idea, and everyone likes him more, and it’s not a problem, really. He’s better than me, he’s earned this. I get it. I’m not angry, I’m not.”

Virgil paused for a moment in surprise. “Wait, are you talking about Remus?”

“It’s okay, really. Logan likes his ideas better, and you two like the same things… I’m just overreacting. He’s creativity, too. He can do my job, probably better. It’s fine.”

Another pause. “… oh, buddy. You can’t really think… Roman, we’re not replacing you or anything. That’s not what’s going on here.”

Roman felt the bed shift next to him, and for a heart-stopping moment he was worried Virgil was leaving. Instead, he felt a cool but comforting hand on his shoulder, stroking gently before giving him a light squeeze.

“Roman, he’s not replacing you, okay? No one wants to do that to you, and even if they did, I’d never let that happen, you hear me? We all still want you around.”

The tears were flowing even harder now, and try as he might, Roman couldn’t get them to stop. Why was Virgil saying this? It was obvious that the others didn’t like him, he had been aware of it for a while now. Of course they’d want to be rid of him.

“Hey, don’t be upset, okay? Please, I really don’t know how to do this right. Uh, look, Patton still cares about you, and Logan needs you even if he acts like he doesn’t. They aren’t getting rid of you anytime soon, alright? I promise. I’m not letting you duck out that easy. Especially not now that we’re both friends.”

That made Roman finally look at him. Virgil was looking down at him with a soft but worried expression, his own eyes misting over.

“We’re friends?” he asked between sobs.

Virgil blinked rapidly; his face flushed. “I mean, I hope so. Is that okay?”

"But I was so mean to you, and I know Remus likes the same stuff you do and… “

"He’s also gross and goes out of his way to make me uncomfortable,” Virgil replied, a trace of snark returning to his voice. “Besides, we were both assholes before, but I like hanging out with you, and I’m not letting anyone dethrone your ass.”

Roman laughed despite himself, wiping away a few stray tears before sitting back up next to Virgil. “Just because you’ve looked past it doesn’t mean everyone else has. I know I messed up. I’m still messing up, no matter how hard I try to get things right. They have every reason to like Remus more. I’m happy for him getting to be the one coming up with videos now. I’m sure he’ll do a much better job at it than me anyway.”

Virgil gave him that same soft look from earlier before taking Romans hand in his own, gently running his thumb over the skin in a calming pattern.

“This isn’t forever,” he whispered. “You always come up with the best ideas, and you’ll still be a part of the process no matter what. You’re also allowed to get pissed off about this if you want to be. It sucks, you can let it suck.”

“I’m not mad at anyone, just… “

“Disappointed?”

Roman nodded, feeling the lump in his throat returning. “In myself, I suppose.”

“Why?”

“I shouldn’t be this worked up over it. They’re allowed to like his ideas more than mine, and he’s allowed to be a part of things too. I don’t hate him for that.”

“Well, yeah, but if you work really hard on something only to get the cold shoulder out of nowhere, it’s only fair to get upset about it.”

A fresh batch of tears started welling up, and this time Roman was less pressed to wipe them away. A quiet whimper escaped as the tears started to fall, and Virgil brought a hand up to delicately cup his face, his thumb smoothing the tears away with more care and kindness than Roman had ever seen from him, and he found himself leaning into the touch.

"Keep that up and you’ll get me crying next,” he teased, though Roman could still spot the telltale shine of unshed tears all the same. “Seriously though, you’re okay. You are not getting replaced; not now, not ever. We all still love you. I know I do.”

Roman couldn’t tell if he sobbed or gasped, but he didn’t care to focus on that. If what Virgil said was true, and the furious blush in his cheeks suggested it was, then Roman would have to pinch himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming all over again. Virgil was actually confessing to having feelings for him, that he liked him back, and Roman wasn’t about to let anything else distract from it.

“I love you too,” he whispered, watching as Virgils face filled with hope and surprised disbelief as his words sank in. “And thank you. I think I needed to hear that.”

"I think so too,” Virgil replied, a glint of mirth twinkling in his eyes. “Do you want in on the next game when you’re feeling better? Remus bet he could survive longer than you.”

Roman smiled, the first authentic one he made all day. “I thought you’d never ask.”

@lio-the-chaotic-nonbeanie-weenie @nico-the-overlord @rougeside4 @britt-ish123 @keitaisghost @new-zee-land @can-i-take-a-stab @yuckpuppie

[aauroraxia]

Supposed To Be

Armando Aretas

This story is based off of a song called Begin Again by Taylor Swift ^^. For a better experience I highly recommend you listen to the song 🎧!

Sypnosis: Y/N just got out of a toxic relationship with ex named Greg. She finally decided to start dating again. On her first date with her new boyfriend, Armando she has many flashbacks of her past relationship. Armando shows her how love is supposed to be, and not all love is toxic.

Warnings: None

I took a deep breath in the mirror, doing a little twirl. I looked perfect, my tight red dress, hugged my curves. My curly hair curled perfectly around my face. My black high heels made me a little taller than I actually was, but I don’t care, I think I look perfect and I hope he thinks the same.

I was finally dating again. After breaking up with Greg, I was scared of dating. Until I met Armando. He told me that he didn’t know my ex or what he did for us to break up, but, that he was nothing like him, he’s one of a kind.

One of my friends had offered to take me to the restaurant I walked out of my house grabbing my phone, purse, and keys, and walked to the car. As I sat in the passenger seat I started thinking.. ‘Remember what happened last time you went on a date’

Flash Back Start 𖣔

I arrived to the cafe that Greg asked me to meet him at. I looked in the mirror in my car, fixing my hair. I wanted everything to be perfect.

I walked inside the cafe, glancing around looking for Greg. He was nowhere to be found. I started panicking, thoughts flooded my mind.

‘He couldn’t be standing me up’

‘He wouldnt’

‘Would he?’

The waiter sat me at a table. I caught a few weird glances from other couples. I pulled my phone out of my purse, checking the time constantly, and maybe to see if Greg texted. After about 25 minutes, he hadn’t called or texted.

Tears flooded my eyes. I put my phone away and gathered my things. It’s time to go home.

As soon as I stood up I heard the cafe bell ring. I turned around to see Greg walking in the shop. His brown hair, messy. He had on a blue button up shirt that wasn’t even buttoned completely.

Had he even tried to look nice? Was this “date” really not that important? I balled my fist up, sitting back down in my seat, waiting for him to walk over.

He sat in front of me in silence. No ‘Hey, I’m sorry for being late.’ No stupid excuse. Just silence.

Flash Back Ends 𖣔

I shoved that memory deep down in my mind, or at least I tried. I started my car and drove to restaurant I was meeting Armando at.

I walked in the restaurant, hoping Armando was already here. And he was. He waved me over to the table he was sitting at. Walking over to him, he looked at me with a small but genuine smile. He stood up and pulled out my chair for me.

That was so nice! I sat down across from him, locking eyes with him. He wouldn’t take his eyes off of me.

Flash Back Start 𖣔

The rest of the date went pretty well. Greg told me this lame excuse of how he couldn’t get a stain out of shirt, that’s why he was late. He asked me how was my day and after I answered him he explained how his day went.

While explaining my day I made a small joke. I guess he didn’t think I was funny because he just stared at me, with a blank unreadable expression on his face.

Embarrassing…

I quickly changed the topic to work, to avoid any further embarrassment.

“Hey, I think you look really pretty tonight, but um I’m not that much taller than you and you wearing heels makes you taller than me.. I don’t like the look so if we’re supposed to be together could you stop wearing heels?”

The audacity..

It’s not my fault that he’s shorter than Peter Pan. But this date already started rocky so I just smiled and nodded.

Flash Back Ends 𖣔

“Te ves hermosa. Ese vestido y esos tacones te hacen ver muy sexy.” Armando said.

I smiled at his sweetness. I knew he wasn’t much of a talker but he was putting in a effort to talk, and that’s all I needed.

“How are you?” He asked

“Good, what about you. Apart from being hunted from the police.” I joked

He leaned his head back, laughing. Last time I told a small joke I was hella embarrassed. But that wasn’t the case this time, thankfully.

Soon, a waiter came and took our order, we ate and talked about any and everything. He even payed for both of our meals. Damn, he couldn’t be any more perfect.

He offered to take me home and I agreed. “Any specific song you want to listen to?”

I started thinking.. “Can you play ‘Fuck It I Love You’ by Lana Del Rey.

“Yeah”

Flash Back Start 𖣔

When Greg invited me to his apartment, on the way there I asked him to play that same song. “What does the song even mean. It’s boring and sad. How about something else.”

I looked at him in utter disbelief. Did he really not understand the meaning? Once again I just smiled and nodded.

Flash Back End 𖣔

“Sorry if you don’t like this song.” I said “I know it’s supposedly sad.”

“Nah, it’s not sad. It’s real.” He assured me.

Oh my gosh I think I love him.

Once arriving at my house Armando walked me to my front door. Like he was protecting me.

I loved that. It made me feel like I would never have to worry about my safety with him.

“Como te dije antes, no conozco a tu ex ni lo que hizo para que rompieras con él, pero nunca te lastimaré amor.”

I smiled, placing both of my hands on his shoulders, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. Once I pulled away, he softly cuffed my cheeks, pulling me into a passionate but loving kiss.

“Sure you don’t wanna come in?” I asked him with a playful smirk.

“Quizás lo haga” He said with a smirk, locking his car, and following me inside.

I don’t know how far this “relationship” with Armando would go but, I do know this is how love is supposed to be.

Translations:

“Quizás lo haga” - Maybe I will

“Como te dije antes, no conozco a tu ex ni lo que hizo para que rompieras con él, pero nunca te lastimaré amor.” - Like I told you before, I don't know your ex or what he did to make you break up with him, but I will never hurt you, love.

“Te ves hermosa. Ese vestido y esos tacones te hacen ver muy sexy.” - You look beautiful. That dress and those heels make you look very sexy.

[tiredsadpeach]

More lore about the friend that is mad at me

[kamiversee]

Sharing Is Caring ꨄ (part 1/3)

[ { Synopsis } ] ➤ Sure, your boyfriend Choso gets jealous from time to time but that doesn’t mean you have the right to put him on sex-ban. Hence why he’ll show you he actually has no issues with sharing you (with a certain person).

[ { Need to know } ] ➤This is a What-If scenario that stems from my fic; The F*ck List— A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt.

[ { Content & Warning } ] ➤ f!reader, lots of teasing and taunting, language, heavy sexual tension, buildup to a threesome, & two guys who are completely infatuated with you ^.^

[ { Parings } ] ➤ Choso x f!reader & Gojo x f!reader.

[ { Word Count } ] ➤ 6.7k

“Oh my god Choso, shut up,” You whined, brows tense and eyes narrowed at your boyfriend who you’ve been arguing with for the past twenty minutes.

Choso scoffs, “Excuse me?” He tests, trying to see if he really heard what you just said to him, “Wanna repeat that f’me?”

With an annoyed roll of your eyes, “I said shut up. You just got home and you’re already starting up with this shit again. Choso, I’m not taking you off of sex-ban.”

Dating Choso is… an experience, to say the least. Sure, he’s a wonderful boyfriend and overall the perfect man for you but, that doesn’t mean you two don’t have your arguments or periods of being upset with one another.

Again, he’s amazing and all but there are times like now where you and him really get into it. He’s stressed out and you’re frustrated— both of which don’t make the best combination.

You’re standing by his living room couch watching him tug off his jacket. Choso’s face is ticked off but he won’t stop looking at you. As for you, your eyes are everywhere else except for his.

“Baby, it’s been three weeks. Three,” He emphasizes, “I can go without sex perfectly fine but you barely even touch me now.”

“Well this is what you get for being an overly jealous boyfriend,” You say with a scoff.

Choso cocks his head to the side and his eyes narrow, “What was I supposed to do that day, huh? Just sit there and watch some guy openly flirt with you like I’m not standing right next to you?”

“You’re being dramatic,” You tell him bluntly, arms crossing over one another, “I told you numerous times before, that if you kept up the jealous act I’d put you on sex-ban, and now; here we are and you’re complaining about it.”

“It’s not the sex-ban, baby. Did you even hear what I just said?” Choso asks. He then takes a single step closer to where you are, “You don’t touch me, hug me, or even kiss me as much anymore and it’s been three weeks.”

A nonchalant little shrug is given to him, “Maybe if you didn’t scold your girlfriend for someone else’s actions, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now-“

“I already apologized for that so I don’t understand why I’m not receiving any sort of affection from you,” Choso cuts off. As he nears you, his hand goes down to his belt and he starts to unbuckle it, clearly unwinding after his long day of work.

Your eyes just barely glance over to him and down at his hands fumbling with his belt. Then, you scan your boyfriend up and down and mentally curse yourself for being upset with him right now because fuck is he too attractive for his own good.

You swallow thickly and lift your gaze to his face, only to meet his eyes already on yours. For a moment, you maintain eye contact but then, you glance off to the side again, “Because all sorts of affection always lead to something more and I banned you from sex for a reason,” You explain with a sigh.

“Yeah well, how long do I have to go through this hell, huh?” He asks, tone stern and aggravated with you.

“Hell?” You scoff, “Choso you know there are other things to our relationship outside of sex-“

“Clearly you’re not hearin’ me,” He cuts off yet again, shaking his head at you as he tugs his belt off and walks even closer to you.

Unconsciously, you take a step back and Choso kisses his teeth as you do so before he tosses his belt on the couch along with the jacket he recently took off.

With a long sigh, Choso brings a hand up to his face and wipes it, as if that’ll help him focus his thoughts. Then, he voices out your name and you tense up a little, “It’s not about the sex,” He says yet again, slowly turning his head to you, “You don’t touch me anymore. Do you know how depriving that is?”

You shrug again, “It’s not the first time you’ve gone without my touch Choso, get over it-“

“Baby you practically live with me now,” He interrupts, “I wake up in the same bed as you almost every morning and when I try to hug you, you’re pulling away from me.”

“Again, every touch leads to something else,” You repeat, frustrated with your boyfriend and how he’s making such a big deal out of this.

Choso’s eyes narrow and a vein pops out in his forehead, “Do you think I lack that much self-control? If you put me on sex-ban then you put me on sex-ban. I have enough restraint to respect that, princess.”

You release a huff, “Okay, well-“

“Well what?” He cuts off impatiently.

Your face twists up, “Well if you’d let me—,” You blink and notice how close he’s gotten to you, your head angling up just a bit to make eye contact with him as he stands hardly an inch away from you. God, he smells good, “F-Finish…” You gulp, “I-I’m not an idiot Choso, you and I both know that self-control or no, when you’re pent up, you get more needy and I always let you have your way.”

“Are you listening to anything I’m saying to you?” Choso asks, head tipping to the side for a moment before he’s leaning down to you, “No seriously, are you rendering the words coming out of my mouth, love?” He asks almost in a way that makes you feel small.

A scowl washes over your expression as your eyes meet his once more, “Yes I’m rendering the words coming out of your mouth, Choso. Are you comprehending anything I’m saying to you?”

“I am.” He hums.

“Okay then why are we still having this conversation?” You ask in a dull tone, voice a bit softer now that he’s all close to you.

Choso cracks a little smirk but he still sounds annoyed, “Because you haven’t laid a finger on me in five days.”

“Choso-“

“That’s a hundred and twenty hours without a single touch from you,” He explains, eyes boring into yours.

Your brows raise and you snicker, “You can’t be serious-“

“It’s been seven days since I last felt your arms around me,” He continues, his body inching closer to your own.

You don’t move away this time and simply keep your eyes directly on his, “Why are you keeping track?”

“Sixteen days since you last kissed me,” Choso recalls, his voice getting lower.

“Oh come on-“

His hand is suddenly placed on your waist and he tugs your body up against his, “And three weeks since we’ve had sex.”

Your breath hitches a bit as your chest clashes with his and you keep your arms and hands everywhere except on him, pretty much proving all the points he just made.

Were you really trying not to touch Choso for the past three weeks? Yes. Is that because you’re worried about him getting carried away? No, you’re worried about you getting carried away. You know Choso has self-control but, it’s you who lacks it sometimes.

Swallowing hard, “Choso…” You murmur carefully.

“Baby I’m starved,” He nearly groans out, both his arms wrapping around your waist while his face inclines toward your own, “I need something from you-, anything.”

You bite down on your lower lip and stare at your boyfriend’s face. He’s so close to you, so desperate for you— it was cute how needy he was.

Purposefully, you lean closer to him and his eyes sink to your lips immediately as they nearly press into his own. Then, you stop a hair away from him, teasing him-, torturing him, “Not until you fix your jealousy issue,” You whisper to the man.

Oh Choso’s losing his mind right now. The urge he has to just press his lips into your plush ones is simply killing him. The arms around your waist tighten and his eyes are pleading with you.

“Baby please?” Choso begs, voice laced with the faintest whine.

You nearly folded at the sound of his begging. Hell, your eyelids began to lower and you wanted to kiss him just as badly as he wanted a kiss from you. You know just one won’t hurt but the fact that it’s been three weeks worries you.

He’s not the only one all pent up and starved, nor does he have any idea how horny you’ve been the past few weeks.

There was a day he came home from the gym and you watched him snatch his sweaty shirt off his body. You swore you were drooling for your boyfriend at the time because he’d been working out excessively just for you.

That was the last day you ended up kissing Choso because as soon as he went and showered, you were all over him. It was hard to control yourself when he smelled so good and his hair was all loose and damp with water— soft groans leaving his throat every time you pressed your lips to his jaw.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t considering eating him up that day. But, you managed to get ahold of yourself at the time and just barely pried your body away from his.

As of right now on the other hand… Your hands are carefully lifting to his arms, gently feeling his muscles through his clothes as your faces remain close to one another.

You wanted to kiss him so badly. It won’t hurt, right?

Slowly, your arms lift up even more and soon wrap around his neck— to which Choso’s breathing picks up and his heart rate increases. The smallest touches from you were already driving him crazy and his hands began to explore your back a little.

“Just one,” You whisper to the man, “One kiss, okay?”

Choso’s nodding eagerly, “Okay.”

The two of you are leaning in, anticipation bubbling in the pits of both of your stomachs as your lips gaze his and he gets the faintest touch of your skin— only to be interrupted by the sudden buzzing of your phone in your pocket.

You pull away and glance down and Choso swears his eye twitches. He was so close, he almost felt your lips again, your pretty soft and heaven-sent lips almost touched his, and yet someone had the nerve to interrupt.

Choso groans and you try to reach in your pocket for your phone but he suddenly smacks your hand away and reaches in your pocket himself.

You frown, “Choso-“

“Who’s callin’ us?” He cuts off. He sounds more pissed off than he was earlier.

The second his eyes lay on the contact written across your screen, he scoffs. The timing couldn’t have been better.

You move to try and see what he’s looking at but Choso shifts his hand on you and pushes your body away.

“Choso what the hell? Who’s calling-“

“You said I’ve been too jealous of a boyfriend, right?” Choso interrupts, his lips curving into a faint smirk before he lifts his gaze to you.

You nod slowly and wearily, “Y-Yeah, but what does that have to do with whoever’s calling m-“

“I’ll answer it for you, baby,” Choso says sweetly before flashing you a smile.

Your brows pinch together and you blink, “Who is it-“

He ignores your question and lifts the phone to his ear, “Hello?”

Someone speaks back to him but you’ve got no idea who.

“Ohhh, you called on accident? Yeah, no, I get that, happens to the best of us,” Choso hums with a shrug.

He seems all too calm and casual about this so you’re mentally trying to figure out who the hell could’ve called you to where your boyfriend is talking so calmly.

You just stand and watch in confusion for a minute as he continues his conversation.

“Yeah, that’s me,” Choso chuckles a bit but there’s a slight vein peeping against his jawline, “Nah man you’re fine. Actually, since I’ve got you on the phone, can I ask you somethin’?”

Your eyes widen and your heart is beating all over the damn place. Slowly, you try to get closer to your boyfriend, “Choso, who-“

He cuts you off by placing a single finger to your lips, quite literally shushing you. You’re taken back by his action and ticked off by his rude gesture.

“You used to fuck my girlfriend, right?” The man questions bluntly. Your entire face gets hot and you’re not sure if that’s because you’re pissed off or because you’re flustered.

Who the hell could he be talking to? Suguru? No, Choso doesn’t get along with him that well… Who else has your number that you’ve-

Gojo.

Your eyes go wide and you move to reach for your phone and snatch it from Choso’s hand but he swiftly and smoothly evades your attempt, mockingly scoffing at you.

“Choso what the hell is wrong with you? Give me my phone-“

Your boyfriend smiles at you. He finds entertainment in how ticked off you are and it only makes you angrier. Especially when he shakes his head no and moves away from you.

Then he has the nerve to laugh, “Yes, I do know the answer to that already. But my question still stands and I’d like to hear it from you since I have you on the phone,” Choso speaks.

You’re still following him around and trying to get your phone from him but he just moves and weaves all of your reaches.

“Yeahh see? There’s the confidence I was lookin’ for,” He says to the male over the phone, “So…” Choso makes eye contact with you and your heart sinks as his words come out, “Wanna do it again?”

The man on the call chokes on air so loudly that even you hear it despite not being near the phone. Then you hear a nervous chuckle, one that’s all too familiar to you.

You fold your arms at your boyfriend, who simply winks at you. “Choso, what are you-“

“Shut up,” He says to you sternly, “You said I’m too jealous of a boyfriend so now I’m trying to change that.”

“By being a fuckin’ asshole?” You spit out to him, both confused and annoyed by everything right now.

“No,” Choso negates, smiling sweetly at you again, “By calling someone over to please my pretty lil’ girlfriend since she won’t let me do it.”

You blink, “What? Choso-“

“Huh? What was that?” He interrupts, his attention back on the phone call, “Yes I was being serious. I-, oh…” His expression dips a little, “T-There’s a word for that kinda thing?”

You wish you could hear the entirety of this conversation because you’re so confused as to where this is going.

“Ohhh, then yeah,” Choso nods his head and looks at you with a smile, “I guess you could call me that—,” Something is said over the phone and he laughs, “What? No, she doesn’t know. Or, she didn’t know but, she’ll find out soon enough right?”

“Find out what soon enough-,” He starts walking away from you and you move to follow him, “Choso!”

You’re ignored as his conversation continues and eventually, Choso walks into his bedroom, shuts the door in your face, and locks it.

You stand there for a while staring at the door in disbelief of your boyfriend. What the hell just happened? What the actual fuck is going on??

You go to knock on the door, “Choso, open the door!” You shout.

The sound of him still chatting it up with Gojo over the phone is heard and you’re feeling all too many emotions at once. From annoyance to anger to confusion and even very faint arousal, you were completely baffled.

Another groan pours from your lips and after beating your hand against the door for maybe five minutes or so, awaiting some kind of response from your boyfriend, you just give up and stomp off.

Annoyed beyond belief, you make your way back into the living room, grab his things, and toss them onto the floor before plopping down on the couch.

You hastily grab the nearby remote and press play on the TV, bringing your thumb to your lip and chewing on your nail a bit as you try to distract yourself from whatever the fuck your lovely boyfriend is talking about with Gojo Satrou.

Somewhere deep down, you think you’re thankful Gojo called when he did because you almost kissed Choso again and you knew you’d let him take things further if he wanted to. If Choso thinks he’s deprived, he’s got another thing coming because you’ve been aching for it.

Doesn’t he know it’s just as difficult for you not to touch him as it is for him not to be touched? Does he not realize how much of a tease he can be? How in the middle of the night, he’d snuggle into your back and his crotch would press into your ass? Waking you up horny and frustrated?

You scoff. Choso doesn’t even realize how whenever he comes home from his job, he looks so stupidly handsome undressing himself— slight grunts and groans leaving those soft lips of his as he does so.

Then, even when you were hugging him, he’d bury his face into the crook of your neck and his every exhale and inhale made your heart skip a beat.

Oh and let’s not forget how simple phone calls and text messages were enough to get you worked up. It’d be so random too how Choso would text you as you’re in class. Something simple like Baby I miss you would have your heart throbbing and your smile unwavering.

There was one weekend where Choso left town to go visit his two younger brothers and he called you late that night. His voice was deep, husked even, and his breathing was a bit unsteady as he told you he was trying to go to sleep but he couldn’t because he started thinking about you…

Thus leading to him with a painful boner. Then, to make matters worse, not only did he end up sending you a video of what you do to him even when you’re not around but, he had the nerve to return home that week looking fucking perfect.

His face had seemed clearer, his skin was as smooth as ever, he smelled heavenly, and of course— of course Choso decided to come home and touch all over your body, claiming to have missed you terribly.

He was such a fucking tease. And he knows it too, Choso knows what he does to you. He sees it in your face all the time— hears it in your voice.

Which is all exactly why he couldn’t bear with you reducing your touches. That’s what caused the argument today as he came home.

Normally, if you were at Choso’s apartment when he got off of work, which you have been more-so in the past few months, you’d rush to him and greet him at his door. Before the sex-ban, you’d help him undress and smother his face in kiss after kiss, telling him how much you missed him, etc.

And of course he appreciated this more than anything. Hence why he’d constantly note that because you do little things like that, he swears to put a ring on your finger if you’d let him.

Even so, ever since you told Choso you weren’t gonna have sex with him for a while, you stopped doing so. Which is all why he’s upset and you’re frustrated. Maybe you should just drop the sex-ban…

Or maybe just touch him more like he wants and learn some self-control. But, it’s not like it’s your fault your boyfriend is so irresistible. How are you supposed to keep your hands off him-

There’s a sudden knock on the front door and you flinch out of your thoughts. You’d been so caught up with them that you hadn’t even realized thirty minutes had gone by and you still didn’t have your phone, nor did Choso come out of his room.

Instead of moving a muscle, you groan, “Cho, someone’s at the door!”

There’s no response for a minute and your groan deepens as you toss your head back against the couch and frown.

“Choso!” You shout, voice projecting throughout his apartment.

“What?!” He shouts back from his bedroom.

You turn your head toward the direction of his hallway, “There’s someone at the door!”

Neither of you has moved an inch and both of you are just shouting across his home, “You can’t answer it?” He asks.

“You’re closer!” You argue.

Choso chuckles and then his voice gets a bit louder as he cracks his door open to yell, “It’s for you anyway!”

“I-,” You blink and then let off a scoff as you spring up from the couch, “Tch, it’s for you anyway…” You say under your breath, mocking your boyfriend in an annoyed tone.

Everything he was doing was pissing you off and you had half a mind to head back to your apartment. Every step you took was heavy and you wanted Choso to hear how agitated you were.

“Can’t even answer the fuckin’ door…” You grumble to yourself as your hand reaches for the knob, unlocks the door, and goes to open it, “…Getting on my goddamn-,” You swing the door open and your eyes immediately widen, “…N-Nerves,” You whisper out to finish your statement.

In front of you stands Gojo Satoru. All six foot three of him, bright fluffy white hair, black t-shirt, grey sweatpants, angelically handsome face, and stupid rose-tinted lips pulled into a smug grin standing right in front of you.

You had to blink once, maybe twice-, perhaps three or four times to figure out if you were seeing things before you scoff, “Satoru?”

Cocking his head to the side, “Trouble in paradise?” Gojo comments in response, voice just as playful as you remember it.

“W-What the fuck are you doing here?” You breathe out, brows tensing and confusion taking over.

Gojo’s shoulders lift into a casual shrug, “I was invited, duh.”

You stare. Then, slowly and carefully, you start nodding as you move to shut the door on him. Maybe you were dreaming?

A hand is pressed to the edge of the door, an arm nearing your head as this hand comes from behind you, and the door is pulled open. You instantly jump as your boyfriend seemed to have simply appeared right behind you and you swear your heart was pounding out of your chest.

Lips near your ear and Choso’s voice is smooth as he speaks to you, “C’mon baby, don’t be rude to our guest,” He murmurs to you, deep voice caressing your eardrums and making you lose all your thoughts for a moment.

You quickly snap out of it and whirl your head around to look at the dark-haired man, “Choso, what the hell is going on-“

“Oh c’monnn,” Gojo suddenly speaks, “You heard your boyfriend,” He chuckles and you turn to him, eyes going wide as he leans down to you, “Don’t be rude to your guest,” Gojo murmurs.

He was so close that you could smell the faint mint coming from his mouth. His proximity worried you and you stepped back, only to run into Choso and your entire backside to bump into him. Your boyfriend places a hand on your waist and tugs you back a bit to give space for Gojo to walk in.

Never in your life have you been more confused than you are as you watch Gojo Satoru enter your boyfriend Choso’s apartment.

Then, Choso leans over just a little so that he can shut the door but he doesn’t move from behind you. Your eyes are all over Gojo’s face, asking him a million questions with your gaze alone.

Gojo starts snickering, “Sweets, if you have a question, just ask-“

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You blurt out, tone heated before you proceed to give him no time to respond. You’re then turning to Choso, “What the hell is going on?”

Your boyfriend stares at you innocently, “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Yeah, you’re a smart girl, you can figure it out,” Gojo chastises.

You swear you’re about two seconds away from popping a blood vessel. An arm of yours moves to shove Choso away from you and you scoff, “First off, fuck both of you. Start explaining yourselves, now.” You huff out sternly.

Choso flashes a sheepish grin, “I already explained everything to you, why are you confused-“

“You were being serious?!” You shout, “You seriously called Satoru over to fuck me?! What the hell is wrong with you?”

“You said I was too jealous of a boyfriend so I invited him to prove to you that I’m not,” Choso tells you, the look on his face completely serious.

You couldn’t believe him right now. Not only were you feeling embarrassed having Gojo stand here and listen to you and Choso bicker like an old married couple but you were also fuming with your boyfriend.

“W-What?!” You huff out.

Choso gives you this blank stare he knows pisses you off, “I don’t understand why you’re confused.”

“You don’t understand why I’m-,” You cut yourself off with a sigh and move to pinch the bridge of your nose with your fingers, “Choso Kamo, this is the kinda thing you talk about with your girlfriend beforehand.”

“Are we not talking about it now?” He argues, moving to fold his arms across his chest and tilt his head.

You glare at him for a moment before glancing back to Gojo. Then, you chuckle in an annoyed manner, “We shouldn’t be talking about this in front of… him.”

“Him?” Gojo pouts, “Hey, I have a name y’know-“

“Satoru shut the hell up. You will be dealt with, just give me a moment,” You cut off warningly. Turning back to look at Choso, “As for you, I don’t know what the hell’s gotten into you but we’re not doing this.”

Choso raises a brow, “Not doing what baby?”

“I’m not about to…” Your face twists up in disapproval, “…To cheat on you just so you can prove some stupid point-“

“Why not?” Your boyfriend asks nonchalantly.

“What do you mean why not? Choso what even possessed you to invite Satoru over?”

“I literally told you why already,” He says bluntly, “I wanna prove I’m not the jealous dickhead you keep making me out to be.”

Your brows raise, “And you wanna prove that by making me have sex with another man in front of you?”

“First off, I’m not gonna make you do anything,” Choso clarifies, “Secondly, yes, I do want you to have sex with another guy just to prove a point.”

“You’re crazy. I mean, Cho, you can’t be serious about this-,” You cut yourself off as you just barely glance down— spotting something that makes you eat your words. “Oh… Oh wow. You-, you’re…” You stammer as your lashes bat in disbelief.

Choso scoffs, “Yeahh… Still don’t believe me?”

“Why’re you…” Your brows furrow as you stare at the bulge in your boyfriend’s sweats, “D-Did just the thought of me and Satoru having sex in front of you get you like that?” You ask softly as you point.

Gojo suddenly pops his head over your shoulder and you flinch as he speaks, “Damnnnn, you seriously are a cuck,” He chuckles out.

Then his hands slither onto your waist and your entire body tenses up. Swallowing, you turn your head to Gojo and glare at him, “Don’t touch me.”

Blue eyes meet yours and he smirks, peeling his hands off your body but keeping his face close, “He wants me to.”

“Well, I don’t. I haven’t agreed to any of this yet-“

“Yet?” Both of the men point out in sync.

You swallow, “I-I mean, I… I wish you two would’ve given me some time to… t-to y’know, wrap my head around this,” You stammer out.

Having your stupidly attractive boyfriend and the annoyingly handsome Gojo Satoru in the same room, both taunting and teasing you was unbearably nerve-wracking.

Slowly, you look over to your boyfriend, “You really want me to-“

“Yes baby,” Choso cuts off.

“What’s even in this for you… aside from,” Your eyes narrow down at his boner, “A-Aside from getting off to this twisted fantasy of yours?”

He snickers, “Uh, I’ll be off of sex-ban after this.”

Your brows pinch together and you fold your arms, “Says who?”

“Baby, the point of the sex-ban was to teach me a lesson about bein’ jealous,” Choso explains, stepping closer to you. Your body was steadily heating up since Gojo was right behind you and Choso was nearing you, “Consider this my lesson learned.”

You scoff, “…Even if I did agree to this…” Slowly, you turn back to Gojo and his face is far closer than you anticipated it to be, his lips nearly on yours as your head turned, “A-Are you seriously okay with this, Cho?”

Gojo’s hands are placed onto your waist yet again but this time, you don’t push him off or tell him to move. You stare into those pretty blue eyes of his and watch as he smiles.

“He’s more okay with this than you think,” Gojo murmurs to you, tilting his head in a way that makes it seem like he was readying himself to kiss you.

You stare at Gojo for a second longer than you mean to before turning to look at your boyfriend once more and god damn his pupils are dilated and you swear his cock has doubled in size beneath his clothes.

Oh he was extremely serious about this.

Choso chuckles, “I can’t exactly fake my dick bein’ hard, can I? What more proof about this do you need to see I’m serious?”

“S-So… if I sleep with Gojo… you want the sex-ban to be over?” You ask for clarification as you glance back and forth between Choso’s left and right eyes.

“Mhm,” He nods at you, “And my point will be proved.”

“Right…” You look at Gojo again and his lips are a hair’s length away from yours at this point, “A-And you… you’re okay with this?”

“What kinda’ question is that?” The white-haired man laughs, “In what universe would I pass up the opportunity to fuck you again?”

You frown a little but, you’re no longer shying away from this, “Satoru… T-This is so wrong-“

“Is it any more wrong than the things I’ve had you do before?” He whispers lowly to you, low enough for Choso to miss what he uttered.

You swallow thickly at his words, “W-Well… yes, yes it is. I’m cheating on-“

“Is it really cheating if he wants you to do it?” Gojo argues.

You pout, “Yes-“

“No, no it’s not,” He interrupts while flashing a comforting smile at you.

“Satoru-“

“Can you two stop arguing and just make out already,” Choso groans, “I’m gonna blow my load before we even get to the good part…”

Gojo chuckles and lifts a careful hand to the side of your face, cupping your cheek in his palm as he pulls you close, “Well, sweetheart? Your boyfriend’s gettin’ needy.”

You shake your head slowly and your gaze falls to Gojo’s lips, “…This is so wrong.”

“Yeah,” Gojo murmurs back before pecking your lips, you sigh immediately and Gojo whispers against you, “But he likes it.”

There’s one last lingering look shared between you and Gojo before he gently presses his lips to yours again, feeling as you sigh against him and just barely ease into this. After all, it was different and weird to kiss someone who wasn’t your boyfriend after a wonderful ten months of dating him.

There are a lot of things you could’ve predicted in your future with Choso but this damn sure wasn’t a part of it. No, making out with Gojo Satoru as Choso just watches the two of you was not something you could’ve ever planned for.

Gojo’s taking things slow, melting into your mouth and steadily parting your lips to push his tongue inside as you hum against him. Choso was losing his mind. Yeah, from the second he saw the way Gojo looked at you, his cock sprung up.

Did he understand why? Not exactly, no. Hell, only about forty-five minutes ago did Choso learn of the word cuck and what it means to be one. He’s watching you and Gojo make out for a little bit before his feet move toward the two of you.

Choso nor Gojo miss the way you moan against Gojo’s lips as Choso presses his own into your neck. Oh. You were about to experience both of these men at the same time? Gojo and Choso. Gojo Satoru and Choso Kamo. To what being must you thank for such a heavenly experience? Your possessive boyfriend and your obsessive ex-lover (if you can even call him that).

Your boyfriend begins to suck on the side of your neck as you hum and squirm in between the two men. Gojo’s got his large hands firmly placed on your waist and you whine into his mouth as Choso moves to kiss under your jaw. With Gojo behind you and Choso now in front of you, you couldn’t possibly wrap your head around the fact that you were being sandwiched between these two men.

Handling either of them one at a time was already too much for you and yet here you were having to deal with both. You feel Gojo’s clothed cock press into your ass and he groans into your mouth before pulling away, both of you making low-lidded eye contact.

“Satoru,” You whisper.

He hums, “Shit-, this is hotter than I thought it’d be.”

Choso’s busy sucking at your neck before he pulls away with a loud pop, his breathing heavy against your skin as you grow hazy in lust. Then, he wipes his mouth off and takes a step back, “Baby…”

You turn your head to him with wide eyes, your lips prettily messy with saliva from Gojo’s tongue and fuck if Choso didn’t find you sexier than ever. Your brows raise innocently and he smirks at you.

“Can you do somethin’ f’me?” Choso hums out. You try moving toward him but Gojo tugs you back and Choso chuckles, “Don’t worry, I don’t want you to touch me yet,” Your boyfriend explains, “I want you to take care of our guest first, can you do that?”

Your eyes widen and you glance behind you and up at Gojo who flashes you a smile, “Yeah, can you take care of me, sweetheart?”

Gulping, you fein cluelessness, “T-Take care of you how…”

“Oh don’t act dumb,” Choso scoffs.

Gojo snickers, “Right, don’t act dumb…” He coos at you.

You pout and glance back over to your boyfriend, “I’m not actin’ dumb… I just want you guys to tell me what you want me to do…”

“Oh?” Choso raises a brow, “So you’re done actin’ like a brat now, huh?”

“I-I wasn’t acting like a brat earlier, you were just being an asshole,” You huff out before rolling your eyes and looking off to the side.

Gojo quirks a brow, “That’s no way to talk to your boyfriend, now is it?” He murmurs to you, causing a chill to slip down your spine.

“But…” Your lashes flutter, “He was being a fucking asshole-”

“You’ve got quite the mouth on ya’...” Gojo interrupts.

Choso suddenly nods, “Yeahh… She does, doesn’t she?” You swallow hard as your boyfriend voices his thoughts, “Why don’t you shut it up?” He suggests.

A hand is placed on your jaw and your face is tugged so that you’re looking at Gojo again, his fingers digging into your cheeks, “I should, shouldn’t I?” He teases, shifting to run his thumb over your lower lip, “She talks way too much anyway.”

“E-Excuse me-“

“She can’t talk when she’s got a mouth full of cock though,” Choso comments.

You swallow down whatever argument you were going to spit out to these two men.

Gojo smirks, “Good point…” He hums before slipping his thumb past your lips, “But, that’s probably what she wants anyway.”

“Think so?” Choso hums, smiling a little.

Gojo nods, “Know so.”

“Okay well, who are we to deny her of such a thing?” Your boyfriend shrugs casually.

“Exactly,” Gojo agrees before placing his attention back on you, “Is that what you want, love? Hm? S’that why you’ve been such a fuckin’ brat? Y’need someone to put you back in your place?”

Yet another pout pulls at your lips, “I wasn’t-“

“Aht, aht, none of that,” Gojo interjects, scoffing at you and finding your expression cute, “It’s yes or no, sweetheart.”

“Y-Yes,” You stammer in response.

He bites down on his lower lip, “Yeah?”

Before you can even nod, your boyfriend’s making your fluster state ten times worse, “Yes what, princess?”

“Yes please…” You whine.

“Be specific,” Choso demands, voice low, “C’mon, tell Satoru what you want.”

“I…” You gulp, “I want you to…”

“Aww don’t be shy, s’just me, sweets,” Gojo coos, his voice gentle.

You were losing your mind right now. Gojo being so careful with you while Choso forces you to voice your needs? Oh you’re not making it through the rest of this interaction, or at least, not in one piece and not mentally okay by the end of it.

“I want you to put me in my place ‘Toru,” You finally manage out.

Gojo hums deeply, “In front of your boyfriend? Seriously?” He teases as he moves the hands on your waist to spin you around. Then he tugs your body up against his, “You really are a lil’ slut, aren’t you?”

Your face twists up a little before you glance back to Choso who gives you a reassuring look— telling you through his eyes that this was okay.

After which, you look at Gojo again and nod, “Yeah.”

He chuckles before bending down a little and then lifting you into the air, your legs wrapped around him as he does so, “Well, if you insist. I guess I’ll have to start by punishing this mouth of yours for bein’ so mean to your boyfriend.”

You frown as you disagree with the claim of you being mean to Choso, “I-“

“Don’t act like that’s not what you’ve been wanting anyway,” Choso adds as he watches Gojo carry you past him. He trails behind the two of you, “I’ve seen the way you’ve been lookin’ at me lately, baby. You’ve been itchin’ to suck me off… Buuut since you put me on sex-ban, I guess that’ll have to do, right?”

You send the man a look and he smiles at you, completely obsessed with teasing you through this whole thing.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Choso hums as you, him, and Gojo enter the living room, “You said you’d take care of our guest first, remember?”

“Yeah, sweets,” Gojo chimes in— God the way they keep doing that is getting on your nerves-, “I can’t wait to put my cock down your throat.”

Okay, by this point, you were beyond pooling in your underwear and it doesn’t get any better as Gojo takes a seat on the couch with you sliding into his lap, his erection poking up against your cunt as you sit comfortably. Then there’s Choso who takes a seat not too far away from the two of you, his cock aching for some kind of attention.

One last time, you glance at your boyfriend, and then at Gojo, and then you sigh.

This was really about to happen-

There’s a soft tap to your ass by Gojo, “Don’t start zonin’ out now,” He hums.

Then Choso’s talking again, “Yeah baby, hurry up ‘nd get on your knees— I wanna see how well you suck another guy off.”

Yeah, this was about to be a long night…

part two

tags;

@blognicole @suguruologist @luqueam @ivoryviness @sinaxalui @rxnnie18 @carlacujo @gods-landing @bitchysouljellyfish @miles4hour @sinaxalui @annananamin @heart-snow @kiyomizzx @hanuh @acehyacinth @mccookiemonster @tojis-ball-sack @cartwheel6869 @mariluvsusstuff @addie1010 @slammynics @actualz0mbie @hisbitchhh @kay-xle @cunttee3 @voids-universe @raininglovelyfire @itsbokutosjuicyass @peaceoutbritta @barbielani @gennaray @r3inae @kfmcykdy @camiihutt @tokina @curtin81937 @hopefullydecent @nameless-shade @ureuphoriasworld @forgetfulmachine @legbouk @lilliaannn @clementineee0-0 @divinelseraph @didibxx

[hazelfoureyes]

The Radio Demon fucks a Human Sacrifice (part 3)

I deadass wrote part one as a one shot. Is this what peer pressure is? I love it.

It would have been easy to forget you, your soul was his anyways so the real fun had already finished. But that pesky video hit most streamed in 24 hours, he couldn’t even walk to the butcher without hearing you scream his name from errant phones. Surely there was a way, even from hell, to finish what he started and get you out of his system.

⟢ part1♡̶sidestory♡̶part2♡̶part3♡̶part4 ⟣

tags/warnings/promises: Alastor x reader, smut, soft Alastor, unprotected sex (duh?), creampie, edging a little, feelings, Valentino exists, Vox also exists, literally wrote this split screen with part 2 on the right side so I could line it up right like he does hehe, Alastor has a bad time

tag requested: @astraechos , @thekanrojimitsuri2 , @hoeforalbedo , @crazylazybabyk , @oddball08 , @lovingyeet , @just-trash-yeah-thats-it , @random-3455 , @alicehasdrowned , @des-deswain5621 , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @doctorswife221b

When Val released, ‘The Radio Demon fucks a Human Sacrifice’, it immediately went viral. The website crashed, downloads surpassed his wildest, horniest dreams.

It’s scary but also hot? ☆☆☆☆☆

Eat me Mr. Radio Demon!

I’ve never wanted to be a pussy so much in my life.

The reviews were all favorable, the comments rolling in, it was perfect.

Until Vox said it wasn’t. He had seen the video, but figured no one would care about seeing Alastor fuck anything. It wasn’t the success that got under his skin, it was the wave of positive attention it brought Alastor. Suddenly everyone was tuning in to his broadcasts, little miss princess’s hotel was busier than ever.

And it was ubiquitous. Every screen seemed to feature Alastor’s breakout role.

“I said pull it, Val!” Vox slammed his hands on Valentino’s coffee table.

“Vox, baby, you’re being really sensitive about this. I’m literally fucking piles of money right now. Actual piles of money, like, person sized piles.” Val took a drag of his cigarette, “Its good for business.”

“Would you rather fuck money, or me?” Vox’s screen glitched.

Val leaned his elbows on his knees, “That’s a really difficult question for me and I think you know that.”

“Augh! Val! Think of the big picture! That obsolete dickhead gaining attention means gaining power. And that’s bad for business.”

Val’s eyes fluttered, “What if we like, say it wasn’t him?”

Flashes of Alastor’s face fazed in and out of focus across Vox’s screen, your body flipping over, a mess of tentacles writhing.

Val took off his glasses, “Oh yeah, that’s pretty obviously him.”

“What is?” Vox’s face splintered back to the screen.

“Do you—- do you not know you’ve been like,” Val used his cigarette to gesture at Vox’s face, “just straight up playing his porno?”

Vox’s hands flew to his screen, “No! Fucking shit! What the fuck!!” He picked up a vase and threw it across the room, “Wipe it clean off the server! Delete it! Ban it’s fucking streaming! End of discussion!”

Val shrugged, he owned every bootleg distributor in the pride ring. He’d pull it and up the price threefold for illegal downloads. “Whatever you want, amorcito.”

Alastor was quite happy the video went ‘underground’ of sorts. The first month after you left, he was plagued by the sound of your voice. Everywhere he went it seemed you were screaming his name, every phone and television a conduit for you.

What really bothered him though, was the reaction others had to him. Where once sinners leapt from his path and set theirselves on fire to avoid him, now people winked and waved. It made his skin crawl. When alive, at the peak of his radio show fame, it wasn’t uncommon to have fans approach him in jazz clubs. But the decorum of 1930's jazz fans was a far cry from the brazen displays of desire from the citizens of hell.

“Perhaps I should have thought it through?” He mused.

“Ya think?” Rosie put her tea down, “Was it worth it, at least?”

He mulled the question over. Worth it? Well, he had your soul. Which is grand. But you weren’t even in hell to be called upon. What did he really get from the deal? Alastor brought his palm to his face, already feeling the blush spreading. Rosie's chuckle didn't help. He did get something. You'd been gone a month, and each day he woke up having forgot you existed. And every night he lied down to rest and imagined your eyes staring back at him. Did he want to fight you, or surrender, when he saw that look? When the silk tie had fallen from your face, slipping down your nose to reveal your intense stare...He thought his heart had stopped. For every ounce of resilience in your voice he found a pound of fury in your gaze. What poor luck Valentino had been given to receive you as an offering.

"Too soon to tell." He leaned back, finally dropping his hand.

“Well it seemed you had a good time… not that I could see much through the green glow and all that static noise. Really spoiled the climax with that move, Alastor dear."

Alastor’s eyes were saucers, “Rosie. Are you implying-,”

“What?” She drew out the word, “I thought you weren’t into those things so of course I was curious!”

He sighed, “I’m not.”

Rosie pushed the teaspoon around her cup with one finger, “Sure looked like you were.”

He crossed his arms, indignant, “You don’t have to have an appetite to enjoy a meal.”

“Message received loud and clear dear! I won’t bring up the subject again.” She cackled and changed the topic to the latest gossip around the colony.

Another night staring at the ceiling, mind ghosting over the idea of you. He felt like he his sanity was unraveling Leaving his bed, he stepped barefoot onto the grass of the swampy forest he materialized into his room when he moved in to the hotel.

With an outstretched hand, Alastor felt for your connection. He couldn’t see it, but the weight of the chain connecting your soul to him sunk into his palm. Curious, he wrapped his fingers around the invisible links and pulled.

With a soft green glow, you rose from the grass.

His breath hitched, he hadn’t expected that. “It seems our deal really did stick, didn't it?" walking towards you, Alastor dropped to his knees at your feet. You were on your side, unmoving.

His head cocked to the left, ears turned in. Alastor crawled toward you, rolling you onto your back and opening your legs. He slotted himself there, “Hellooo,” He took your face in his both of his hands, elbows resting beside your ears, “Are you… sleeping, dear?”

This is ridiculous.

Alastor inspected your face; peaceful. It was a new sight for him, he'd really only ever seen you in some kind of rage or lost in pleasure. His hand slid down your body, realizing you were in the robe still. He laughed, but realized it was for no one. "Are you really going to sleep, hmm?" He hooked his hands under your knee and brought it up around his hip.

Nothing.

"I'm starting to get offended, dear." He leaned down and whispered into the crook of your neck. "If you don't wake up-" He slid down, the robe open enough to let his breathe ghost over your stomach. He stopped. He couldn't do anything to you while you slept. It was void of any enjoyment for him. Without your reactions, it was just....pointless. While he did enjoy your performance in the studio, he was taught to show respect for those of fairer means. A sleeping partner fell into that category.

He reached beneath you and straightened your robe that had bunched there under your body. Placing your leg back down by your ankle, he began pulling the collar up and closed it snuggly.

He stood there for a second, looking over you. It worked. You're here again. His mother had taught him that the human soul was most vulnerable at night. When asleep, the soul could wander from the body and travel earth and beyond. She even said people could train themselves, and with practice, remember their journeys even after waking.

Kneeling down, Alastor pushed your hair from your face, "Don't forget. What fun is there in that?" The shadow beneath your body shimmered neon green before you were swallowed by inky darkness and Alastor was once again, alone.

After his mother died, Alastor was often alone. Most of his time, really. Well, there were people always around. But they were staff, or hangers-on, or women looking for a comfortable life. They were dancers and bootleggers and musicians. Which was fine and grand. But, they never saw him. He never let them, they never tried. He was the radio host. The great dancer. The southern gentleman. The killer. The cannibal. The deer in the woods. Not a single person ever looked at him on earth and saw him. Which was precisely what he wanted, and manufactured with his wide smile and good manners.

So when your eyes bore into him from that tacky studio set, and he felt suddenly naked in front of you, he knew you were looking at the him. You saw him.

It was worth it. Alastor was willing to admit that to himself.

Over the next couple days, he would randomly try to pull you to him. Through out the day, in different places, he would summon your soul and wait. Nothing. It confirmed his theory, your soul was only able to leave your living body while you were asleep.

In the privacy of his room, Alastor paced the space between grass and carpet. What was this feeling? Nerves? He hadn't felt nervous since he was a child.

But, what was causing him a pause, was if he summoned you and you didn't appear. Maybe it had been a fluke? Maybe for the 7th time in 3 days he would pull on that connection and be left standing there, alone.

Still.

He ran his hands through his hair, trying to regain composure. Finally, he reached out for your ties to him, and pulled you into hell.

He held his breath, unconsciously.

With a glow, you appeared again before him. He was quick this time to approach you, setting beside you and leaning close to your face. Asleep.

"Is this my foreseeable future?" He asked, "Staring at you while you sleep, my doe."

Suddenly, you opened your eyes and met his. Reaching up, you grabbed him with both hands and pulled his face into yours. Your hands ran through his hair as you took him in a frenzied kiss. Alastor froze for a beat, but when your tongue licked at his bottom lip, he was brought back to the moment. He pushed his tongue into your mouth, rolling over yours and reaching as deep as he could. He felt like he could unhinge his jaw and swallow you whole. He really could, if he wanted to.

Alastor swung his leg over your body and straddled your hips. "Mon cher, you've finally joined me." His chest was rising and falling with excited breath.

"Alastor?" You tried to feel your body, but it was nowhere near you.

"Don't worry your pretty little head. You're still alive and well. I've merely borrowed your soul for the evening." He looked down at you, and finally, for the first time in what felt like months, your eyes fell to his face.

But today, they were soft and out of focus.

"Can you see me, my dear?" He leaned down slightly, trying to read the look on your face.

"Am I dreaming?"

He chuckled, "Perhaps we both are." With an exhale he wondered if he had been holding his breath this entire time. "No, this isn't a dream."

"I don't understand...but--," You lifted your arms towards him, "Should I say thank you? It was fucked, what happened." Your voice was slow, words a little slurred, "But, I'm home safe and sound now. You did what you promised me. I don't know if I'll ever see you again so...should I thank you now?"

Your tongue felt fat in your mouth, heavy and delayed.

Alastor leaned down over you, "You don't have to say anything." He used his knees to open your legs, and settled there. "Unfortunately, you've become a little worm in my mind." His hands slid under the silk robe you hadn't stopped wearing yet, "I'm hoping if I finally have you, I can...whet my appetite, and return to my normal self." He felt along your hips, hands stopping when he realized you were naked under the thin piece of fabric.

"I keep remembering," you covered your eyes with your hands, "that big hand of yours. And I realize, you never touched me past that."

He smiled, genuinely, truly, "Exactly! You understand the problem precisely. Shall we both have our fill and be done with it?"

You moved your hands to touch his ears, waiting for him to disappear at any moment, "Please. I'm so tired of missing someone I don't even know." He removed your hands, and you held them to your chest.

"My thoughts exactly, mon cher." He adjusted his hips, letting his crotch rub against your core. This was the closest he had been to you since you'd met. It was dizzying, and it felt like his skin was vibrating everywhere it met yours.

A soft moan left your throat, causing his cock to twitch in his pants. Yes, it was you. This wasn’t his standard response to such sounds. Alastor sat up, his legs bent and knees at either side of your hips. Taking one of your hands from your chest, he placed a kiss on a digit. Then another. He kissed his way down your arm.

“So gentle. Weird.” You tried to focus on him, but your mind was still cloudy. The sensations were here but also so far away, too far away, in another lifetime all together.

“Was I not gentle before, all things considered?,” he continued his way down your arm.

You let your eyes drift to the sky, stars watching you from above, “More than him.”

His mouth went dry at the mention of Val, "I am many things more than him, darling." As his lips found your neck, he took a deep breath. "I can actually take my time now. No audience." He sucked a bruise, and released you with a pop. He presented two fingers to your lips, and without thinking about it you began to suck them. While you were slipping your tongue over and between his fingers, he moved to continue a trail of kisses and nips down your right arm.

"Get them nice and wet." He watched through half lidded eyes as you licked his long fingers. He knew he needed to remove his hips from yours, but the idea pained him. Finally, he took his fingers from you and swiped them over your entrance. Your chest jumped, so he did it again. He tried to push the fingers into you, but the resistance was more than he expected. You were wet, but tight. He let his middle finger slip inside you. So soft. So warm. His shadow tendrils allowed him some feeling but not this, this was something they kept to themselves.

"When was your last time, mon cher?"

Your mind searched for memories still left behind in your body somewhere, "In hell."

"You're in hell now."

"This doesn't feel like hell." You ground your hips onto his palm, trying to get that single digit slowly moving in you to come deeper, to become more. He replied by pushing in his pointer finger, erection becoming painful already as you let out a little moan. Bending them up, he began to make long thrusts past your g-spot. His mouth long stilled on your arm, staring at your face as you whimpered into the sky.

"Look at me."

Your eyes darted to him, half open and wet. Alastor felt his patience snap. Undoing his belt and zipper, he finally freed his cock. He ran his head between your entrance to your clit , gathering your fluids on him to ease his entry. Taking both of your legs, he held them at the ankles and set them on his left shoulder. With your hips slightly raised, he pressed into you.

With a hiss you dug your fingers into the dirt, body tensing instinctively. One of his arms hugged your legs to his chest, the other was now bruising your hips as he continued to push into you. With just his head in, he began fast and shallow thrusts. Every time making more progress into your warmth. The stretch burned, but the feeling of him forcing space into you for himself just made you wetter.

Finally, he bottomed out. He had no sense to still himself, shallow thrusts gave way to long, deep plunges. Alastor's breathing was filling the space around you, mixing with your own. Leaning back, he looked down at where you two were connected.

He withdrew slowly, nearly entirely, and pushed back in. Again. And again. It was intoxicating, how he felt himself melt into you. He'd had lovers in life, but never had he been with someone without a barrier of some sorts. Be that his well placed smile or latex. He'd never fucked anyone raw before. He almost regretted not trying earlier, as the sensation of your walls and arousal sticking to his cock and thighs was breaking him. Watching himself entirely disappear inside you, he closed his eyes. Everything was so hot, so tight, would he disappear entirely? Would he lost in the pleasure your body was so effortlessly giving? Was he the unlucky one?

Alastor pushed your knees up to your chest, using his body weight to hold them down as his paced picked up. You brought your dirtied nails to your own legs, holding on tightly. Desperately you needed something to tether you to the ground, keep you still against the twitches shaking your stomach and chest. You felt with any jolt to your nerves you'd fall off the world and drift into the night.

He felt the build up, his balls tightening and drawing in, he wanted to slow down-- he wanted to bring you there first but he couldn't stop the rutting of his hips. With a whine, Alastor's forehead came to rest on yours, hips smacking into you with a wet slap. "Look at me," He commanded again, and you obeyed. One of his hands came to your chin to hold your head still, "Don't you dare look away."

Struggling to keep your eyes open, he pushed into you with one final, deep thrust. His hands came down now to the ground around you as he pushed you into the grass. Hips stuttering, cock twitching in you. You'd never let anyone cum inside you before, the sensation of heat quickly filling your cunt made you tighten around him. "Good girl", He purred, jaw tight.

He pulled back slowly before bringing his hips down, sweat sticking to his forehead where it met yours. His pace was quickly becoming brutal, a hand finding its way to that little bud of nerves of yours. With rough pressure and hurried speed his thumb drew out your orgasm. When you came, you gasped out his name, craning your neck up to ghost your lips over his open mouth. As the pleasure surged from your center, you could feel your body again. He tried to keep his eyes on your eyes, but the overstimulation of your cunt trying to wring him dry forced him to shut them.

A light shone through his eyelids, startling them open again.

"Wait-!" He watched you get pulled away from beneath him. Before he could react, Alastor was on all fours in the forest, alone. Eyes wide, he pounded his fist against the grass. He tried to summon you back to him, to drag you to him but nothing happened.

He thought he'd gone crazy. Hands came to his head, smile pained as he tried to process what he was feeling.

No.

Not enough.

Too soon.

A growl ripped through his chest. This hadn't satiated him at all. No, he was worse off now. He was starved, he had nourishment ripped from his mouth and he as angry for it. Angry to hell, to Valentino, to the conditions of owning a living soul.

He did not even attempt to rest that night. Taking his time, he had to find composure again. Alastor managed to pull himself together after several hours of self isolation. After his heart stopped racing, after his hands stopped feeling phantom skin beneath them, he calmed his smile and went about his day.

When night returned, he couldn't help but stare into the forest domain. He wanted so badly to bring you to himself, but that want was terrifying. It was overpowering him, and he couldn't accept that.

Another night left, another day passed. Husk found Alastor's cruelty to be growing, his patience giving out at the smallest perceived slight. Angel stopped engaging entirely. Charlie found herself wanting to approach him, find out why it seemed his hair was always standing on end, his eyes sharp. But, she didn't. She couldn't. Alastor would pass through the halls like a raging specter. He wouldn't slow or acknowledge anyone.

He managed a week. Satisfied with his resolve, he waited for when night fell and he was sure you'd be deep asleep, yanked your soul from your body and into him. He felt rabid, like he his brain was catching fire. Finally when you materialized before him, he grabbed your face with his hand.

"My doe?"

Just like before, you stirred, and your hands immediately went for his hair. He pulled back, "Are you awake?"

"Am I dreaming? Alastor?" You looked drunk, mind struggling to process the change in scenery. Your arms wrapped around his neck as he hovered above you, and you pulled him into a kiss. He happily returned it, hands quick to untie the robe you had taken as your own. He wasted now time in getting himself unsheathed and lined up with you, before he could enter you reached out to him, "I wanted to say--- thank you. I don't know if I'll ever really see you again."

The realization made his blood run cold. His mother's stories flooded back to him. It takes training, and time, to remember the travels of the wandering soul.

"You don't have to say anything." Alastor thrust into you, your body tense but not as resistant as before. When he was finally enveloped in you, he could feel himself calm. He didn't feel any need to be gentle this time around. He immediately set a bruising pace, digging his nails into the soft flesh of your ass as he forced your hips to meet his with every thrust. You gasped beneath him, eyes wandering up to the sky just past his head. He'd bring you to climax, wanting to drink in your expression, and to his horror as you choked out his name you were spirited away from him again.

Everyone on the floor heard Alastor's rampage. When Angel ran to get Charlie and Vaggie, they were scared to knock. With a steadying breath Charlie rapped the door, "Al? You okay in there?"

Suddenly, silence.

The door whipped open, Alastor smiling with half lidded eyes, "Why of course. What ever made you think otherwise?"

"The fuckin' sounds of carnage, maybe?" Angel looked past Alastor. The sofa shredded, coffee table in pieces. The wallpaper had been ripped down and torn to shreds. Charlie noticed the dirt under his nails, but Alastor coolly pulled his hands behind his back.

"Can I do something for you?" His tone was cold.

"I guess not, Al...," Charlie took in the damage, "Did something happen?"

Alastor smiled wider, "No," and closed the door. No one saw him the following day, which wasn't entirely unusual but it was weighing on Charlie. When Alastor finally appeared and announced he was going to Cannibal Town, she was elated. A chat with Rosie would surely bring him back to himself.

"I don't see the problem. You've got her soul, you can summon her to you, and you get a little," She searched for the word, "relief. Why do you look so pained, old friend?"

"You know better than most I have no interest in chasing women, Rosie."

"Yet..." She cocked her brow.

"It isn't about the release. I don't particularly need that. I never have." He huffed, the conversation already exhausting him, "When I would kill someone, I was God. Their life was in my hands. I took that power from them."

Rosie clicked her tongue, "And when she's in your hands?" Alastor hunched over his black coffee before remembering himself and straightening his back. "I've never seen you like this before, hun. You've got it bad, huh?"

"Personal connections like this, Rosie, are dangerous. I lost my self restraint entirely. It's a weakness." He fought to regain his smile, never knowing who could be passing by.

She tutted him, "Oh no, that's where you're wrong. The difference between a strong man and an unstoppable man is having something to care about." Rosie leaned over and set her hand on top of his, "Imagine you walked into Val's studio right now and found her like you did a couple months ago. How would you react?"

His stomach wretched forward, if he saw you today, hanging from the ceiling? The stench of Valentino's cigarette smoke clinging to your hair, the marks where his hands had made contact with you? His hand under her's tightened, claws leaving marks into the wooden tabletop. "Do you feel weak right now, Alastor?" The hair on his ears was standing straight up, his now black eyes met hers, "You sure don't look it."

He’d remembered hearing something similar before from Vaggie. Could it be true? It was a precarious ladder. If he let himself be close to someone, then the person is in turn close to him, then that person knows him intimately, and then— they are a walking soft spot. Someone could take them and torture them for information. Or, hurt them to hurt him.

But, who would dare? A fire rose in chest at the thought. What was the point of power if he couldn’t have what he wanted? If he had to answer to others about his desires? To pursue strength and status was what he wanted but if that strength didn’t afford him freedom than what good was it, really?

"I say, not that you asked," Rosie smiled and withdrew her hand, "Could be nice to have a little company now and then. Plus, better than waiting 60 years or something for her to just die." She shrugged, "Now, eat. You look like a shit."

Rosie had a point, while your existence was fragile, it was still available to him.

For awhile, he would call you nightly. Alastor would fuck you into the grass, beneath the trees, under the stars. He learned your orgasm would wake you, and he would draw it out as long as he could. He'd edge you for hours, watching you sob for your release. Slowly, your consciousness became more and more solid during your meetings.

To his relief, his hunger for your presence calmed over time. He could handle a week or even two without sharing your company, and he noticed each time you seemed to recognize him more. You'd participate more, moan louder, scream his name and squirm from the pleasure. He relished trapping you underneath his wide shoulders, pulling you onto his lap as he fucked up into you.

He wasn't fond of the few times he summoned you and you were already wet, or smelling of cologne. He'd tease, "Lonely?" and when he'd fuck his back cum into you before helping you chase your own orgasm, he'd remind you, "You're mine, little doe. No one can replace me." And he'd feel his chest swell. Others had your body for the night, but your soul was his forever. With every meeting, he felt more like himself. And the nights you were screaming his name in the forest, and his horns were looming over you as he marked you over and over as his, he felt powerful.

Some nights, he'd call you to him to just let you rest. He'd enjoy a book, or some jazz over a meal, while you lied quietly in his bed.

The days he pulled you into hell and your hair smelled of the trees, of sweat and dirt, he would be gentler. He could feel the ache in your muscles, the tan on your cheeks, and sent you back.

One such night came, where he of course took your chains in his hand and tugged. But this time, when you arrived, your face was painted with anger. You were asleep still, and even when he whispered to you, you didn't wake. You were having a nightmare, from what he could tell. He took you to his bed, and let you settle.

You stayed there until waking up again in your bed.

And every night that week, he'd bring you to his bed and go about his tasks while you fought some demons in your head. He'd never seen you have a nightmare, and began to wonder if something was happening in the overworld.

Alastor was enjoying a deer carcass in his room, humming softly to himself, when a green light erupted on the floor.

He was well aware it wasn't night anymore, and that he hadn't brought you here. With a soft smile, he left his meal and approached the light. Slowly, your body rose from the darkness there. Not just your soul.

When you looked up at him, a smile on your lips and two small doe ears on your head, he grinned, "Did you miss me terribly, my little doe?" He offered you a hand up, "Welcome home.”

༻Masterlist༺

[idleoblivion]

"You Don't Want to See Me Like This" - Vil Schoenheit x GN Reader

Synopsis: You were spiraling and you knew it, skipping classes, not taking care of yourself and ignoring your friends in favor of rotting in bed. You didn’t want anybody to see you in this state, least of all your perfect boyfriend.

Word Count: ~1k

A/N: Crazy how fast I go from writing smut to comfort fics lol. First time writing Vil sorry if he's ooc.

Warnings: Vague description of poor mental health, he comforts you

The first knocks on your door you ignore entirely, not moving an inch from your position curled up under your blankets. The second time, you do move, but only to check your phone for any messages from Ace or Deuce saying they were coming. They had been the most adamant about trying to reach you, with Ace sending you sarcastic messages and memes to get your attention while Deuce opted for more genuine “Hey, it’s been a minute, you alright?” and “I hope you feel better soon!” texts. You loved them, truly you did, but you were in no mood to talk to them. You couldn’t remember how many days it’s been since you’ve seen them in person.

The third knocks are louder and impatient. You sigh and close your eyes again. As you're preparing to reach for the earbuds on your nightstand to tune them out, the voice you hear from the other side of the door stops you in your tracks.

“I know you can hear me, potato. And you know I don’t appreciate being ignored.”

Your eyes shoot open again. You weren’t expecting him at all.

It’s not like you thought Vil wouldn’t notice. He was always very attuned to what you were feeling, it was something you loved about him. Somehow you had gotten lucky, with his schedule apparently being even busier than usual you had managed to evade him. But he was here now, and clearly not happy. You know he cares dearly for you, but still you didn’t know how to talk to him about everything going on in your head right now. Not when he seemed to handle every problem he had with ease, while you were just wallowing in your misery. Not when he was this emblem of beauty and grace, not when he wouldn’t be caught dead looking like you did right now.

You sit up and turn your head to look at yourself in the mirror. You haven’t showered or brushed your hair and it shows. The circles under your eyes are darker than you’ve ever seen them. You had been completely neglecting the skin care routine Vil picked out especially for you for several days, and you were sure he would be able to tell.

“Vil…I’m alright, I just don’t feel well. I’m tired, and I’m trying to rest.”

“According to your friends, it’s been nearly two weeks that you haven’t been feeling well. Either you’re lying to me, or you need to go to the infirmary this instant.” You could picture the frown on his face and crease in his brow just from his tone.

You don’t answer him. You silently curse Ace and Deuce for getting him involved, wishing your bed would just swallow you whole so you could avoid this conversation. He stays quiet too for a moment. You hear him sigh before he continues.

“I…I’m not trying to patronize you. Please just let me in, I need to see you.” His voice turns almost pleading at the end, surprising you. He never pleaded or begged for anything.

“You don’t want to see me like this, Vil.” Your resolve was weakening hearing how worried he actually sounded, but you were still so ashamed of your current appearance. What would he think if he saw you? Would he feel pity, maybe even disgust? You didn’t want either of those reactions from him.

“You can’t say that. You can’t tell me how or when I want to see you.”

Another minute or two of silence passes, and you realize he really isn’t going anywhere. You drag yourself up out of bed and to your door and hesitantly unlock it. You walk back to your bed and plop down again before saying “Come in.”

He opens the door gently, eyes immediately fixated on you. He takes in your disheveled self and looks around your room for a moment too. You hadn’t even realized how messy it was until he was looking around, laundry and other junk left lying out in the open. Another wave of shame washed over you.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry-” You start to choke up as you put your head in your hands, but he interrupts you.

“No, I’m sorry. I’m the one who needs to apologize.” You look back up at him confused. He’s looking at you, but you don’t feel the judgment in his gaze you were anticipating. He’s looking at you gently, fondly even, and that alone nearly makes you cry.

“I’ve been preoccupied with the production the Film Studies club is working on, and I seem to have neglected something much more important." He approaches you and offers you his hand, which you take. He holds your hand tenderly and continues. “It’s my duty to notice things like this, and I’ve let this go on too long already. What can I do for you, love? What can I do to help?”

The tears that had been welling up finally start falling, and he brings his other hand to cradle your face lovingly. You stay like that together for a few moments, with you crying and him just holding you.

Through sniffles, you tell him “I don’t know. I want to feel better, but I don’t, I don’t know I just-” you cut yourself off with another sob. He nods his head like he understands. He seems to stop and process an idea before he stands up.

“Well, looking better may help you feel better. Come with me, back to Pomefiore. Bring some pajamas, we’ll run you a bath and have a self care night together. I’ve got some new products I’ve been wanting to test that we can try out.” He smiles at you and beckons for you to stand with him. You do, and nod at him as you try to calm yourself down more. “Y-yeah, that might be nice.” You hold your arms out, asking for a hug and he obliges immediately. 

He holds you tightly before speaking to you softly. “You don’t need to keep things from me, you know. I’d much rather hear about how you’re doing from you than those other potatoes.” You let out a small laugh, which makes him grin. “Can you promise you’ll come to me next time?”

“Okay, I promise. Especially if it gets you to spoil me like this.”

“It’s not spoiling, love. It’s just what you deserve.” He kisses your forehead before you walk out of your room together, still holding his hand.

[allysunny]

I'm the Lucky One

Pairing: Bale!Bruce Wayne x Drunk!Fem!Reader

Synopsys: You got a bit too drunk at the club tonight. Luckily, your husband is quick to come to the rescue and take care of you.

Words: 3.2k words

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol and being drunk of course, drunken speeches, just a lot of fluff and a bit of crack, reader is mentioned to be quite a bit drunk. Some suggestive themes, cursing and vulgar language (not on Bruce's side). Just a fluffy, funny fic, really.

A/N: Hey everyone!!!! So, I got hammered last night and I was wondering how nice it would be if I had Bruce taking care of me,, so I wrote this. It was hilarious, I got home and got my keyboard and my tablet and just started typing away as I sobered up.

I love this man so much I wish he was the one taking care of me omg... Anyway I hope you guys like this! It's just a small fic, something short, I wanted it to be short and sweet <3

“You’re literally the most handsome man I have ever seen in my life.”

“Am I, now?”

“You are. Holy fuck. I think I'm in love with you.”

Bruce chuckled softly at your words as he helped you down the stairs of the club you found yourself in. His arm was steadily wrapped around your waist, his other one reaching for the limo door.

It was a lovely night in Gotham, and you had decided to go out with your friends.

“It’ll be fine, Bruce, we’re just celebrating Maggie’s return with a couple of drinks and that’s it. No need to worry,” you had told him, punctuating your statement with a kiss on his cheek. Bruce had believed you. sort of. He'd told Maggie to warn him should you go overboard with the drinks, and two hours later, he was getting a call from her about how you were fucking plastered.

“Are you single, by any chance?” You asked, turning to him with an extremely serious expression. Bruce cocked an eyebrow and held you steadily, both hands on your hips, preventing you from swaying as obviously as you were. “There’s no way you are. You're far too hot. Fuck, you really are one handsome fucker. Look at his jawline – “ You reached to touch his face and Bruce softly caught your hand, bringing it down next to the other one and releasing it once he understood you would not try to touch him again.

“How about we get in the car, huh?” He asked, opening the door before him, and making sure you got in without tripping or falling or hurting yourself – a miraculous feat in itself.

“What a gentleman, holy fuck,” you slurred, shaking your head, “Mister, not only are you the hottest man I've ever seen, you’re also a gentleman. You're the whole package. You know, I think I'm in love with you. I’m so in love with you, it’s actually insane. Holy shit.”

“Well, we have been married for a couple of years. I'd expect you to at least like me.” He replied nonchalantly.

Next to him, your jaw dropped. Your mouth hung wide open, and you blinked repeatedly, staring at the man in front of you. You didn’t seem to notice the car was already in motion, Alfred looking amusedly at you through the front mirror.

“We are?” You asked, blinking a few more times, much to Bruce’s delight.

“We are.”

“We’re married!?”

“For almost three years now. Happiest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

The information took a while to settle in your brain. You turned your head comically slow to the side, and stared through the window, Gotham’s city lights blinding and eternal. Then, you turned to him again. There was no way the handsome man before you was your husband, was he? He was wearing a lovely dark blue sweater polo, and dark pants. His hair was combed back, but there seemed to be no product on it. He looked effortlessly perfect, and it was hard for you to just believe he was yours. I mean, how could a man like this belong to you?

Bruce seemed to read your mind, because he took your hand in his and turned it in his palm, showcasing the pretty gold band around your ring finger. Your eyes widened even more as he showed you his own, and you looked from his hand to yours, trying to put the pieces together.

“We are married.”

“We are.”

“Holy fuck. You're my husband.”

“And you’re my wife.” The phrase was said with a soft smile that often accompanied whatever words Bruce said about you – after all, he was whipped.

You stared at him for a while longer, before bringing your hand up to your arm and pinching it.

“Are you sure this isn't a dream?”

“I’m sure. We're here, honey,” he said, looking out of the window. The car ride had felt like an eternity to you, but maybe that was simply because your notion of time was warped. In only a few minutes, Alfred had parked in front of Wayne Manor and Bruce was leaving the limo to help you out.

“C’mon, hold my hand,” he said, extending his arm to you. You looked at him, at his shiny hair and beautiful eyes and giggled like a schoolgirl in live – which was exactly how you felt. You took his hand and did your best to maneuver your way out of the limo. Unfortunately, your head had other plans. You stood up far too quickly and your head began to spin, causing Bruce to hold onto you tighter. He pressed you against him to keep you from falling, but your body swayed from side to side before catching on itself. You tripped and were quite sure that’d be your end, when you felt Bruce’s hands steading you.

“Where are you going?” He joked, turning you to face him. You gazed into his eyes, and he chuckled at the confusion and laziness laced in yours. You had a dazed look to yourself, lips slightly parted and brows furrowed.

“Think you can walk on your own?” Bruce asked, even though he knew what the answer would be.

“Where are we going? Where are you taking me?” You asked, looking around. Once you caught sight of Wayne Manor, you chuckled, pointing at it like an excited child. “There’s no way. That’s where we live? We live in a freaking castle!? Can this day get any better!?”

The man before you just smiled and shook his head. Whatever you’d drunk had worked you up pretty well. He bent over slightly and scooped you up in his arms, earning a giggle out of you.

“Hey!” You exclaimed, swinging your legs slightly, before you realised just how nauseous all the motions made you, and decided to stop. “What're you doing?”

“I’m taking my lovely wife to bed, because she’s unwell.” Was his response as he crossed the threshold of your shared home, Alfred following close behind.

“Should I prepare a bath, Master Wayne?” The butler asked, glancing over at your figure, now far too busy gaping at the magnitude of your home.

“Yes please, Alfred. I'll try to get her out of these clothes.”

“Very well, sir.”

Alfred moved to your shared bedroom, and Bruce followed, albeit slower. He was afraid moving too quickly would cause you to feel sick, and the last thing he wanted, was you vomiting. Not because he didn't want your puke all over his floor or anything – simply because seeing you in pain or discomfort caused him an ache that was too big to even describe.

Once he reached your bedroom, he placed you on top of your shared bed, holding you closely.

“I’m gonna let go of your arms to take off your shoes. Think you can manage not to fall?”

“Why you letting go of me, handsome?” You pouted. It was adorable really, and it took every ounce of control in Bruce’s body not to claim your lips with his own. He wasn't going to take advantage of you, not when you were intoxicated and not thinking straight.

“It’s just for a while. Let's get you out of this dress, okay? And won’t it be nice to take off your shoes?”

“Yeeeeeeeah,” you whined, wiggling your legs in front of him. “They’re hurting me so bad. Why did I choose to wear heels?”

“Well, you said you looked, and I quote, really fucking hot in them.”

“Shit. I bet I did.” You chuckled. For a few seconds, you lost balance and fell backwards on your bed, laughing loudly. Bruce looked at you and just sighed, trying his best to avoid your legs as you kicked and wiggled around, before finally being able to take off your high heel shoes.

“Master Wayne, the Madame's bath is ready,” came Alfred’s voice as he returned from the bathroom.

“Thank you, Alfred. Feel free to retire for the night.”

“Are you sure, sir?”

“Yeah, I'll take care of her. Just go get some sleep.”

“Very well, then. Goodnight, sir.”

“Goodnight, Alfred.”

“Goodnight, miss.”

“Goooooooood niiiiiiiiiight!” You laughed loudly.

“On second thought, could you please get her something to eat? A toast would be nice, something light. I can’t possibly give her medication on an empty stomach.”

“Right away, sir.”

Alfred left the room, and you rolled around on the bed, unknowingly scrambling away from Bruce’s body.

“Honey, please stop moving. The quicker we do this, the quicker you can go to bed. Don't you want that? To get some rest? Get into your comfy pyjamas, get under your blankets?” He tried bargaining with you, but he knew it would be heard in the state you were in. It was like getting a hyperactive child to go to bed.

“Nope,” you popped the “p” with a grin, and quickly sat up, eyeing your husband with a knowing grin. “I want a kiss from you.”

“Bath first. Kisses later.”

“No, kisses now. I want a kiss from my husband. You are my husband, right?”

“I am.”

“Okay then, kiss me.”

“I can’t. You're not feeling well, and I don’t want to take advantage of you.” Bruce explained calmly.

“So, you don’t love me.” The seriousness in your voice stopped Bruce in his tracks. What?

“Honey, I do love you. That’s why I'm telling you to go to sleep. Right now, you need to get some rest. The sooner, the better.”

“You don’t love me,” your lip wobbled almost comically, and large tears welled up in your eyes. Instead of being annoyed, Bruce found it somewhat endearing. He could never find you irritating, no matter what the context was. To him, you’d always be the most important person in the world, no matter how you found yourself. “You don't love me, and you don’t wanna kiss me. Is that it? Is our marriage a fraud? Did you even ever love me?”

“Darling, I do love you. Come on, let’s get you in the tub, is that okay?”

“You don’t love me anymore,” you leaned your head backwards as tears rolled down your cheeks, and Bruce was quick to move next to you on the bed, gathering you in his arms. You cuddled against him almost instantly, pressing your face against his neck and wrapping your arms around his middle. Bruce soothed you with soft words of reassurance. Yes, he did love you. Very much. You were the light of his life, and he worried so, so much about you. He never wanted to see you in pain. That was why he was being so bossy, because he just wanted you to feel better. All of this because he loved you immensely.

After a while, you looked up at him, bottom lip jutting out.

“So you love me?”

“Incredibly so.”

“Kiss me?”

“Just once. And then, bath.”

You nodded eagerly, tilting your head upwards and making kissy motions with your lips. Bruce rolled his eyes in amusement and leaned down, giving you a soft peck.

“There. Now, bath.”

“What!? That wasn't a kiss! You barely touched me! I want a real one,” you whined again, pushing away and looking at him with a scandalised expression. “A big one. And then bath. Pleeeeeeeeeease?”

“You’re so lucky I love you,” Bruce mumbled before cupping your cheek and tilting your head upwards so he could kiss you. This time it was longer, his tongue darted out to explore your lower lip and he could still taste the alcohol you’ve had at the club. You melted instantly into his touch, humming, and pulling him closer. However, the moment you tried to deepen the kiss, he pulled away and tutted.

“No. Time for a bath now. Okay?” Bruce caressed your cheek softly and pressed a kiss against your forehead.

“You're a really good kisser. I want one more, c’mon.”

“No, we agreed on one kiss. Now you need a bath. After that, and only if you’re good, I'll kiss you some more. Okay?”

You gave him the dreamiest smile he thinks he’s ever seen, and sat up almost immediately, bringing your hands to your head shortly after. “'s spinning…” you mumbled.

“I know, honey. Let me take care of you, alright?”

“Alright.”

Bruce picked you up in his arms once again and brought you to the en-suite bathroom. he sat you down on top of the toilet lid, carefully helping you remove your dress and underwear and pressing kisses against the exposed skin every so often to make you smile. After you were naked, he removed your makeup and helped you inside the bathtub, where you laid back and sighed in relief. Bruce was quite sure you were getting to the drowsy state of your drunkenness, so he didn't force you to talk or tire yourself out even more. All he wanted was for you to feel good.

He helped you bathe, lathering up soap and rubbing soothing circles on your arms, legs and whole body so you could wash the day off you. Once he started washing your thighs, you turned your head to him and gave him a cheeky smile, to which he replied, “Not tonight, you need to rest”, and that was the end of it. This handsome man who happened to be a really good kisser (and apparently your husband) seemed to know what he was doing, so no matter how much you wanted him to touch you somewhere else, you’d agree with what he was saying. After all, he was right, you were already feeling much better.

Once you were done, Bruce wrapped you around in a fluffy towel, carefully drying you off. The fluffy fabric was soft against your skin, and you smiled as Bruce applied body lotion on your body. Even if you were tired and couldn't do it yourself, he would always do it for you. He did promise you forever, in sickness and in health. And he supposes in intoxication and sobriety as well.

When he sat you back down on your bed, you were wearing your pajamas and your eyes were threatening to close.

“How about you stay here while I get something for you to drink?” He asked, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You frowned. Why was he leaving? And why was he getting you a drink? You didn't want any drinks. Drinks had made you feel like this. You wanted the handsome man to kiss you some more. Fuck, he really was a good kisser. Maybe you could convince him to kiss you in your –

“Honey? You hear me?”

“Why are you going? Don’t go. I don’t want any drinks. My stomach is hurting,” you chided softly.

“I’m getting you something for your stomach, okay? It'll make you feel better. Do you trust me?”

“I do. I think I trust you with all my life, you know. You've been so kind to me.”

Bruce smiled at your words and kissed the top of your head, whispering “I’ll be right back”.

Almost as if on cue, Alfred knocked on the door of your shared bedroom and walked in after Bruce opened it for him. He handed the Wayne heir a small plate and offered you a sympathetic smile before leaving the room.

“Hey honey, think you can eat some of this?” Bruce asked, returning to your side.

You looked at the plate in front of you and at the sheets in your bed.

“I'm not gonna eat in bed.”

“It’s okay, we’ll just wash the sheets later.”

“No, that’s – ewwww! No, I don’t wanna eat in bed. C'mon, help me up.”

Bruce only had a few seconds to remove the plate from in front of you when you threw the covers back and tried to stand up on your own, failing miserably and having to clutch onto his arm.

“I’ll do it there,” you pointed towards your vanity and Bruce nodded. He'd always comply.

Once you sat down and busied yourself with your toast, Bruce hurried towards the bathroom. He prepared a glass of water and some pain relievers to prevent a potential headache. Once he returned, you were already up on wobbly legs, doing your best to make it to the bathroom bu yourself.

“Hey – hey,” Bruce put down the glass and pill, immediately rushing for you. “Why are you up?”

“Look, you’re super fine and I totally wanna do you,” you slurred, “But you’re helping me far too much and I don’t wanna bother you. You've been like a babysitter, and I'm not a baby, and I can walk on my own because I am a strong independent woman, and I don’t need your super strong arms to carry me, even though I really like it when you do that because you’re so hot. I’ll walk on my own.”

Bruce smiled at your words. You'd always been one to dote on him and compliment him. He was used to flattery, sure, but he always knew you meant every word you said, they weren't just empty phrases to get you on his good graces. He brought you closer by the waist and caressed your cheek.

“I know you’re a strong independent woman.”

“I am.”

“And I know you can do it by yourself.”

“I can. I can do it by myself.”

“I know. But let me help you.” He kissed you softly and you sighed against his lips. There was really no argument here, was it? It wasn't a hard choice. You let Bruce help you as you walked towards the bathroom. He turned around while you peed (not like he hadn't seen you like that before, he just wanted to give you some privacy), and steadied you while you washed your hands and made your way back to bed.

Once you were comfortably sitting down (again), he brought the glass of water and the pill to you, which you took with no complaints.

“There’s my lovely girl. It’ll help you feel better in the morning.”

“Okay,” you nodded, placing the glass on the bedside table next to you. “Are you gonna go now?”

“Why would I? I'm going to bed too.”

“Here?”

“Yes. Here.”

“We sleep together? In the same bed?”

Bruce walked around the bed so he could lay down on his side, and you followed suit, although much slower.

“Every night.”

You sighed and turned to face him, a silly smile playing on your lips as your eyes fluttered close.

“I can’t believe I'm this lucky. I'm married to a really hot gentleman, my house is super big, and I get to sleep with you every night. This is the dream.”

Bruce chuckled and wrapped one arm around your waist to bring you closer to him. And something in your subconscious mind must’ve recognised his touch because you molded yourself against him, leg wrapping around his waist and head resting just under his chin. You mumbled something incoherent under your breath and were out within seconds.

Bruce could only smile. He knew tomorrow morning you might have the worst of headaches, of nauseas, and he would be more than happy to spend his day catering to you, holding back your hair if you puked, and nursing you back to full health. You were the love of his life, and you’d already done so much for him, bringing life and colour back to his once bleak existence, teaching him what true love was like, and turning his house into a home, a safe space he could always return to.

He pressed a kiss on top of your head and squeezed you tighter, whispering four words in the quiet night.

“I’m the lucky one.”

A/N: And that's it!! I hope you guys enjoyed this. I love this man so much, I wish it was him taking care of me instead of myself. Would not have tripped and swayed so much yesterday if I had his strong arms around me fr. Anyway, I love alcohol, I have zero regrets and I even got to write a Bruce fic. Win-win!

Have an amazing day, y'all!!! <3

[luffyvace]

The Luffy Package ☠️📦

(General & relationship headcanons as well as Luffy quotes (relationship implied) for his big day!!)

had to go all out for my fav 😊🤭

General Luffy headcanons:

Luffy has nails so short dirt can’t get under it 😭

not necessarily the booty diggers 🤭

but just really short, like almost booty digger ig—but not it

he has like 1% nail

its not intentional, they just never grow

i have a feeling someone taught luffy how to dance

idk who

it was likely makino, shanks or some else he cares deeply about

but he learned early on and has been a great dancer ever since!

maybe at parties since they happen a lot in one piece ⭐️

But just because someone taught him doesn’t mean he was awful at dancing at first

maybe he was a natural!

feel the rhythm typa thing 🎶 🕺

it’d be funny if he was

cuz imagine a guy that can dance but can’t sing

how you gon dance on beat to a out of tune song?? 😭

at least to uta anyway

ive always loved Luffy’s singing‼️

he never thinks about what the one piece is

but would be the most disappointed if it isn’t something cool

this dude is NOT interested in books so if the one piece really is just joyboy’s tale i don’t think he’ll be satisfied..😭 (I’m talking about the theory)

he definitely wouldn’t say it was all for nothin tho

he still has nakama, treasure and is the pirate king!! 👑

but…the one piece as books is just a mega L for him

Robin will enjoy ♡

you know that thing he does where he stretches his face real big? Like the time he was tryna cheer nami up when she was sick? And it scared vivi and zoro?

he scared himself when he first realized he could do that too

he was bored and started messing around with his devil fruit

at first he was outside and he stretched his mouth, and when realized he could see inside it, he was like ‘I wonder what this looks like’

so he went inside and did it into a mirror

he somehow managed to trash the whole bathroom running away from his reflection

he quickly got over it and realized it was kinda funny

he showed Ace and sabo who also found it terrifying

then preceded to scare people with it ever since

d end! :)

I feel like he’s thought about what the ‘D’ in his name stands for too

He came up with a bunch of outrageous names that likely aren’t it..

”Dingus?”

”Donkey?”

”Demarto?”

”Doorbell?”

”Dinosaur?”

yeah, dinosaur seems the most plausible 😊

Luffy Dinosaur Monkey!

‘HEY THAT SOUNDS COOL 🤩’

yup, that’s probably what it stands for 😁

sneaks into the usopp factory whenever he’s not in there

he ends up playing with his creations and destroys, it, other projects, and the factory altogether in the progress

he then runs out laughing

usopp later returns to the ruins only to find his months work of his greatest creation yet named “ultimate captain usopp three thousand smasher” has been reduced to fragments of metal nothing ☺️

listen idk if oda has confirmed Luffy’s favorite color but I would say it’s none

why? The same reason why you can’t ask a toddler their’s, it’s just gonna constantly change and you know it’s not the truth

arguably, if I had to pick an actual color based off canon, (IK it’s a shade but wtv) it’d be white

why? wym? Don’t you remember that one ep where luffy sang a song about how he loves snow cuz it’s so white?

(one of his lesser talked about songs 😭💗)

Relationship Luffy headcanons:

Luffy as a partner is really rambunctious and loving

But do note that loving doesn’t always mean romantic

for him it means loving you a lot but not being lovey dovey when showing it

you need protecting? He’s on the case!! He can’t and he has to beat someone up? One of your nakama’ll do it so stay with them!

your strong? Perfect! He’s gonna go fight this guy so you go beat up that one!

why am I mentioning that? Because it shows he has a great sense of trust and faith in you

Of course he does with all his friends but your reasoning is different

not only are you his nakama, your also his partner!! Which means he loves you in a intimate way!! Not just platonically

I say “just” because I swear sometimes Luffy’ll feel like a friend with you (best friends and lover typa thing 💞) he’s just as goofy and chaotic with you as he is Usopp and chopper

he feels extra lively when around you and always wants to play, whether you like this or not. Your personality depends a lot on how your relationship with him is but I won’t dabble into that today because it’s his birthday. 🎉 but honestly it doesn’t matter if you punch him like nami or laugh like brook-

he’s still gonna bug you! 💖 seriously you can’t get rid of this dude 🤨 Luffy will drag you on every single one of his adventures so I hope your either brave or fearless like him. The only time you two separate and he allows it is when he’s fighting the boss type thing LOL. Like Doflamingo or smth.

that said Luffy isn’t clingy he just likes being around you and seeing what your doing. Especially when you haven’t landed on an island yet and he’s bored. He’s always singing, playing with your face (ironic cuz he’s the stretchy one) or trying to get you to play some silly game he made up

that usually somehow manages to tick everyone off. 🤷‍♀️

will grab your hands randomly and make you dance to some song he made up about literally anything he sees or feels

he even made one about YOU once :3

”OOOOOHHH your my partner! Yes my partner! We’re having lots of fun! Going on adventures- YAHOO!! And dancing a ton! We’ll dance all arcross the grand line!! Take your hats off and let them fly!! YIPPIE!! We’re having a graaaaand TIIIIIIIME!” 😁🕺

Luffy quotes: (implied relationship between you two)

”HEY LOOK DO YOU SEE THAT ISLAND!! Cmoncmoncmoncmoncmoncmon!! HURRY UP I WANNA GO EXPLORING!!”

”can you sneak in the kitchen and steal some food from sanji? I’m really hungry and he won’t let me in anymore!!”

”LETS HAVE A PARTY!!!” — “we don’t need a reason! CMON!’ CHEERS!”

”lets tame that thing and make it our pet!!”

”what should we name em?” — “Junpi? SOUNDS GOOD TO ME!!” (You didn’t get a chance to respond 💕)

”HEY LOOK A RESTAURANT!! Grab on I’ll rocket us there!! HURRY UP IM HUNGRYYY!!”

”hey! Do you have any food on you?? I’m hungry!”

”Liar!! I can smell it!!”

”take a bath?! I don’t stink!!— EUGH!- okay yeah maybe….but I don’t wanna take a bath!! I’ll get all tired!”

”I’ll leave you with that guy! So go kick some butt! I’ll deal with that red forehead guy!!” (AN: There’s no actual red forehead guy that’s canon, I made it up 👍)

”⁉️ HEY WHAT HAPPENED?! Did that guy beat you up?! I’ll send him flying!! 💢”

”Shishishishi! Shh! Watch this! I’m gonna drop this on Usopp’s head! 🤭😂”

”Lets play a gaaaaame!! I’m so bored! 😞”

”can I have some of your food?” *Already stuffing a piece in his mouth* (the point is it’s not the whole thing ⁉️😱)

”HE LOOK MY BOUNTY WENT UP!! 🤩🤩‼️“

”Isn’t this fun?! 😆” (having a near death experience)

”don’t worry! My injuries don’t hurt at all! See? I’m dancing! I’m having fun!”

”oops. Sorry.”

”look!” (Two chop sticks stuffed up his nose and mouth)

”WOAHH A MAN KILLING BEAR!! LETS GO CHECK IT OUT! 🤩” (even if you wanted to say no your already being hoisted over there because you weren’t running fast enough for him)

”plan? Never mind that!! Let’s go! We’re gonna kick that butt head guys’ butt!!” (AN: another fictional villain I made up on a whim)

”HOLD ON TIGHT” (Gum Gum Rockets with hardly any warning)

”let’s play a game!! It’s called steal zoro’s swords without waking up zoro!! 😁”

”nyop!” (Puts you atop his shoulders 💓)

”nyop!” (Jumps on your back almost knocking you over 💝)

”look at my disguise! Nobody will suspect us! 😎👍”

”Cmere!” (Pulls you into his lap)

”HI! Is it almost time for dinner yet?” (Plops down in your lap)

Thanks for supporting me and my work—as well as my random disappearances too 💗🤗

Everyone! Say it!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY LUFFY‼️‼️

[pedgito]

𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐈𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐎𝐍𝐄

summary | both the miller brothers had a thing for you and you had a thing for them. they give you an ultimatum and you don't like that. so, instead of one, you choose both. [9k]

pairing | joel miller x fem!reader x tommy miller

content warning | 18+ content, as always: no use of y/n, au/no outbreak, age gap (sort of, it's not specificed by tommy & joel are late 40s/early 50s and reader is labebled as younger) bar owner!joel, bartender!tommy, 3somes, flirting, soft!joel (in the beginning), tommy is a little bit of an asshole, oral ( f & m receiving) unprotected piv, aftercare, joel is selfish

author’s note | joel and tommy have no interaction together in this, at least to that extent. so heed the tags and don't read if you don't like, xo.

“Actin’ like you ain’t never gripped a damn bottle in your life,” Tommy grumbles over your shoulder, fingers wrapping around your own until you have a secure hold on the neck, “tight–alright?”

Your lips pull together tensely, forcing down the urge to roll your eyes as he guides your hand through the motions as you fancily flip the bottle upside down to pour out the liquid into the glasses on the counter in quick, careful precision as you filled each one to a certain amount before moving onto the next, but somehow keeping up the swift pace Tommy was asking for.

Or, really, demanding.

He nods quietly behind you, staring back to admire his handiwork, knowing most of that was his own doing and his ability to perfect his showmanship over the past several years of heading the bar under his brother Joel, who owned the bar. 

Your relationship with Tommy was…tricky, but Joel—that was an entirely different mess.

He passes the shot off to a few waiting customers enjoying the show, and you have half the mind to think that Tommy is getting off on the fact that you’re openly embarrassing yourself in front of the patrons, but really, he’s just an asshole.

Though, you’ve come to understand that was how Tommy showed his fondness and if he was being overly nice than you’d know something was up—hell would freeze over, pigs would fucking fly, and you might actually accept his advances for once. Not today. Not with him breathing down your neck as he motioned for you to repeat the process on your own.

You take a deep breath, lining up the shot glasses uniformly and turn your wrist to grip the neck of the bottle, finding Tommy in your peripheral as he nods, “Tighter,” He mumbles, “don’t need that thing slippin’ out of your hand mid-rush and Joel chewin’ my ass out over a wasted bottle of bourbon.”

“I dunno,” You tease playfully—

Tommy surges forward and tightens your grip around the bottle.

“Think you’d know a thing or two about a good grip but goddamn.”

“If you keep this up I’m talking to Joel,” You threaten lightly, an airiness to your voice that shouldn’t feel as menacing as it does, but Tommy backs off slightly, grumbling something under his breath, “—good boy.”

Tommy rolls his eyes in annoyance, rolling his shoulder backwards as he rests his hands against his hips. You continue, swinging the bottle around less clumsily than before and pouring out the shots in quick succession—no mess, no spill. It was perfect.

Tommy scratches at his jaw, slightly dejected now as you turn back to look at him.

“What’s next?” You ask with a flashy smile, shoving the bottle square into the middle of his chest.

-

Joel catches you near the end of that day, shoving a few things away in your assigned locker, thick fingers curling around the open door, subtle smiles gracing his features as he greets you with a nod.

“It’s been a few months,” Joel reminds you, thinking back briefly on how much has changed for you in such a short time—you had friends, a solid job, a place to live, and two boys who you couldn’t help but fawn over—it was natural luck you ended up in this position, “how you holdin’ up?”

And while Joel wasn’t as forward as Tommy in his attraction, you sense it in the way he looks and speaks to you in private, no watchful eyes to spy on you. Besides, Joel seemed private and reserved, so it wasn’t that odd that he felt comfortable approaching you in private.

“Okay, I think.” You answer truthfully, playing with the curled paper of the calendar taped to the inside of your locker, your own fingers curling underneath Joel’s own, pointer fingers touching but unmoving, you glance at him hesitantly before averting your eyes to somewhere beyond him, following the eyeline of the bar as you watched Tommy wipe down the front of the bar.

“Tommy ain’t givin’ you anymore trouble?” He asks, “I know he’s technically your boss and all—”

“And you aren’t?” You chide playfully, eyebrow raised slightly as you pocket your phone and grab your bag, slinging it over your shoulder. “And yeah, but…no more than usual. I can handle Tommy just fine, you know?”

“I know, I know,” He laughs softly, hand moving away from the locker to pat at your shoulder, squeezing gently at your bicep—touches were so familiar with Joel. A hand on your back, a subtle touch of his fingers in the dip of your neck. He had respected your space in the beginning, even with how witfully you charmed him with ease. You enjoyed touch, viewed it as a language of love and didn’t mind when Tommy initiated it either. Often finding your own subconscious movements to cling to and touch the people you conversed with or felt comfortable around—he doesn’t mean much by it, you think, “but, he does still have to listen to me. I am his boss.”

“I pulled that card on him today, actually,” You admit, hand rising to rub at his elbow comfortingly, “he simmered down pretty quick.”

Joel sees the hold you have over his brother, both with your personality and general attraction Tommy felt with—well, most of the people Joel hired to work under him. But, Tommy is teasing with you, testy, and he’s not like that with the others. He’s comfortable enough that he can come off like an asshole knowing you won’t take it personally.

Joel chuckles, glancing back over his shoulder at Tommy before turning back toward you and rubbing a comforting finger under your chin, “Good girl.” He comments sweetly, it has your stomach doing flips no matter the context. It was a normal sort of endearment from Joel, but given the context, it feels like a praise rather than an outright compliment.

You smile shyly and shove his hand away.

“You know, we’re cooking out this weekend if you wanna swing by,” Joel offers, “it’s, uh—for Sarah.”

Sarah. You didn’t know much about her aside from the fact that she died young, around thirteen—it’s been close to twenty years now, but Joel still celebrates her birthday.

You nod half-heartedly, “Yeah I’ll—I’ll try to swing by.”

Joel smiles warmly, before pointing an accusatory finger at his brother across the bar, “Keep his ass in check, alright?”

You smirk, an underlying feeling of…something, feeling dizzy from how openly Joel adored you when it was just the two of you, “Always.”

-

Austin heat is sticky and humid, clinging to the bare skin of your legs exposed by the short summer dress you wore, strappy and flowy and—while it wasn’t an unusual sight to the Miller boys, they didn’t see it as often as they liked. So, of course, they gawk.

You shove the case of beers into Joel’s waiting grip, a subtle wink as he acknowledges your presence. Quickly crowding in by Tommy who’s already a few beers in, just by his loose nature as he slings an arm over your shoulder, squeezing gently. He sips generously on the last bit of his beer before allowing the rim to hang slack between his fingers.

“Tommy,” You acknowledge graciously—there was always a slight tinge of annoyance with him, not the type that made you angry or upset, but frustrated. Whether just plain frustration or sexual, you couldn’t put your finger on, “already starting the party without me?”

“Come on now,” Tommy teases, “you know it wouldn’t be a real party ‘til you got here.”

“Is anyone else showing up?” You ask curiously, leaning subconsciously into Tommy as your eyes spot Joel several feet away in the kitchen, unpacking the beers. “Tess? Bill?”

The bar was closed today. Always was. It didn’t matter what day Sarah’s birthday landed on. 

They had food, drinks, a cake—it was a real party, only missing its esteemed guest.

You’ve only seen Sarah through pictures and heard through stories told by word of mouth, but Joel has never cared about anything more in his life, not until the bar and long after Sarah’s death. He’d named the bar in her honor, a simple but beautiful nod to someone so special in his life. The Monarch.

She loved butterflies. And know, whenever you see them—it’s a little reminder of her presence.

“They can’t make it,” Joel speaks from the kitchen, his mouth downtrodden in its usual scowl, his natural resting face, “so—looks like it’s just us.”

“Can you handle that?” Tommy whispers teasingly in your ear and you elbow him gently in his side, “Hey—she’s already hittin’ me, Joel.”

“Stop pissin’ her off then,” Joel offers, “mind helping me, sweetheart?”

He nods toward that back and you nod quickly in response, but not before pressing a quick hand into Tommy’s side as you pinch him playfully and earn a pitiful shout, giant grin growing on your face as you depart and follow his older brother, giving Tommy an eyeful of your swaying hips, dress barely dipping past the bottom of your ass.

She’s a friend dammit. That was it.

But, it didn’t stop Tommy from crushing on you. Hard. Even at his grown age.

You follow Joel outside with a spark in your step, meeting him at the grill situated on his back deck as he flipped some of the cooking meat, an open beer in his left hand. 

“What did you need?” You ask curiously, noticing that he wasn’t speaking now.

“Nothin’,” He admits, “just like having you around.”

You smile softly, wrapping your arms around his bicep, feeling the muscle flex under your touch instinctively, his head turning to glance at you. He huffs out a soft laugh through his nose before returning his attention to the open grill, meticulously flipping the meat.

“Think if I kiss up enough to the boss he’ll give me the day off tomorrow?” You ask curiously, a hint of mischief gracing your tone as you train your eyes where he was looking, even if his gaze flicks toward you for a brief moment.

“Depends.” Joel responds gruffly, setting down the utensil to close the lid of the grill.

You huff a laugh at his ease to respond to your subtle attempts at flirting, completely harmless, but the unspoken tension lingered like a constant. 

“On?”

“If you’re being’ literal or not,” Joel offers and it sends a tingle down the base of your spine, his knuckles brushing against your hip from where you’re hanging off of his arm, “cause that can be arranged.”

There’s a brief moment where you think he’s being serious—and in Joel’s mind, he is. But, the slight widening of your eyes as the words leave his mouth have him worried, like maybe he read into this wrong.

He smirks, “I’m kiddin, sweetheart. Long as you can find someone to cover your shift—“

You interrupt him abruptly, calling out to his brother.

“Tommy!“ You half-shout over Joel’s shoulder, causing him to wince and chuckle at the suddenness of it.

Tommy’s trying to pretend like he hasn’t been staring this entire time from across the kitchen, eyes locked on your figure as you draped yourself over his brother, face lighting as you talked and the subtle touches that should be him—at least, he wished it was him.

He clears his throat and heads toward the back door, head popping out before the rest of his body, “Y’all need somethin?”

“Can you cover my shift tomorrow?” You ask, a saccharine smile and a look that Tommy fell for every time, finding you hard parted from Joel now, he notices how your hands smooth out the dress that barely covers your thighs. “Please?”

“Is this what you two are doing now?” Tommy asks, now fully in view as he closes the sliding glass door behind him, “Plottin’ against me—you can’t give her special treatment, you know—“

He points an accusatory finger your way that you swat away, both of your eyes locked on Joel who seems less than interested as he sips on his beer.

“She’s gotta find someone to cover her shift,” Joel explains, “same as everyone else.”

Tommy calls bullshit, knowing Joel would figure it out himself or cover for you—it wasn’t like you did this often, but Tommy was more than aware of all the times he came to your rescue, almost like you were using it against him. A ploy. A devious plan to get under his skin.

He knew Joel liked you—but dammit, he did too.

And even in his steadfast attempt to deny you, you reach out and grab his hand, uncurling yourself from Joel as you approach him—sad eyes and a fake pout.

“Stop that—“ Tommy warns, his voice soft and anything but demanding, but you only lean in closer, and as strong of the man Tommy thinks he is, he breaks, “—god, Fine. I’ll cover your shift.”

You smile wide, right on the edge of celebrating before Tommy is snuffing the joy out.

“On one condition—“ Tommy holds up a finger, and you have to physically stop yourself from rolling your eyes, knowing there was always some sort of but coming with anything Tommy agreed to, “remember that date you flaked out on?”

It was one time—within the first week of you working at a bar. Tommy didn’t waste any time and given your eagerness to try new things, you didn’t shut him down.

But, you psych yourself out and cancel.

Tommy’s always remained slightly jaded by the ordeal and part of that has contributed to your hot and cold relationship and willingness to tease each other but still have no restraints in your frustration toward one another.

“Hey—that’s not,” Fair dies on your tongue, his shoulders shrugged in a firm response, “—fine, yes. I do.”

Tommy raises his eyebrows in obvious question.

Date?

You scrunch your nose in annoyance but quickly relent, “Okay—but I’m picking the place this time. No fucking bars, Tommy.”

Joel listens to the conversation with a scowl, completely unassuming since it was his usual state of emotion.

Tommy holds his hands up in defeat, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Glad y’all got that settled,” Joel interjects with a tone that pulls your attention back to him, “if you’re done flirtin’ with each other I need some help.”

You and Tommy appease Joel quickly, helping him with the food and when you’re finally through dinner, spending a quiet moment around the cake. You don’t sing or anything—Joel hates it. But, he does light a candle and blows it out, signifying another year of her absence.

There’s a quiet moment with Joel toward the end of the night—Tommy is off somewhere in the backyard, presumably cleaning up the grill for he and Joel’s shared space. They were both unmarried and found that living together and splitting the pay was easier than anything else.

“Hey, don’t worry about that,” Joel tells you, slipping the dirty dishes from your hands as he discards them in the sink, “we’ll handle it.”

“You sure?” It felt like the least you could do.

Joel nods, shrugging as he sets his half-drank beer bottle on the counter—he’d lost track of which one it was. Enough that he feels a faint buzz in his system as he thoughts run and he admires your curious face as you tilt your head, wondering why he seemed so…lost.

But, really—it was just that kind of day. It was never good for him, as much as he tried to act like it was. Yet somehow, with you here, he feels more at ease.

“What?” You ask curiously, a playfulness to your tone. “Keep starin’ and I might just have to give you those kisses, Joel.”

And really, it didn’t sound like a bad idea.

Joel gradually moves closer, looking back briefly over his shoulder at Tommy.

He smirks slightly as he turns back to you, catching that soft, familiar smile on your face.

“Don’t think he’d be too happy about that.” Joel tells you, playing with a bracelet clasped around your wrist, his front nearly pressed against your own, so close you could reach out and slip your hands under his flannel, touch the bare skin and finally find out what those older women at the bar were talking about—Joel didn’t get around, but he wasn’t a stranger to a casual hook-up.

“Maybe I want to,” Your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion, “what does Tommy have to do with that?”

“Sweetheart,” Joel breathes and you can’t resist, slipping a few trailing fingers under his shirt, which he quickly grabs with his own hand, tightening around your wrist, “I’m your boss, I can’t.”

The buzz of alcohol impedes you both, smart decision making out the window now.

“Like you don’t already give me special treatment,” You reply flippantly, teasing his obvious weakness, “....Joel.”

You.

Joel kisses you suddenly—you’re only half-expecting it as his large hand rises to cup your face, the other locked firmly around your wrist and he presses his lips firmly against your own.

He tastes like beer and the sweetness of frosting as you lick into his mouth, the hand not held tight in his grip finding its way into the front of his shirt, bunched into the fabric as you sigh into his mouth, the kiss quickly divulging into a battle of who could hold purchase on more of one another, hands exploring as Joel hands find their way over the back of your dress, the tips of his fingers grazing bareskin as he grabs and squeezes your ass, your teeth grazing against his bottom lip as you pull away suddenly, but not by your own doing.

It was Joel, his face flush from the alcohol in his system but also the intensity of the situation. There’s so much unspoken there and both of you want to speak and Joel nearly does before Tommy is shattering the moment, announcing his re-arrival into the house. You chew at your bottom lip thoughtfully as you glance between the two brothers, feelings and thoughts battling in your head.

Tommy was wild and unpredictable and you craved that.

Joel was practical and determined and that’s what you needed.

And selfishly, you wanted them both.

-

The conversation that happens later that night between Tommy and Joel is anything but civil.

“She agreed, Joel—it’s not like I’m forcin’ her,'' Tommy argues, “She could’ve said no and I wouldn’t care. She knows I like her, ain’t my fault she seems to like me back.”

“You’re still her boss.”

 As if he had any leverage, it pops Tommy out of his chair and toward Joel with an accusatory finger.

“And you? You’re my fuckin’ boss so how is that any better? ” Tommy asks and Joel looks away briefly in annoyance, fists curling at his side, “Think I didn’t catch you two earlier? Cut the shit, Joel.”

“This ain’t high school, Tommy,” Joel retorts, “We aren’t fighting over her.”

“Yeah, you made that pretty fuckin’ clear when you decide to make a move on her in the kitchen and then you’re standing here tellin’ me I can’t have her—how about you treat her like a normal person and let her choose, Joel.” Tommy retorts, “Or is that too damn hard for you? Not getting what you want?”

It sparks a deep fire inside Joel. Tommy too. And you really have no choice but to give them an ultimatum—besides, you wanted both. You were getting both.

-

It isn’t like they planned it, but somehow they manage to coincide and corner you at the same moment—Joel coming out of his office and Tommy rounding the door into the backroom, your frame bent over a box of bar snacks. When you look back, your eyes widen slightly.

“Shit—am I—are you firing me?” You ask, deeply concerned. You weren’t the best bartender, but you tried.

Tommy and Joel share an equally confused look.

“No—no why would you think that?” Joel asks.

You wave your hand vaguely between them both, a serious and concerned look on both of their faces. It wasn’t out of the norm for Joel, but for Tommy, it was unsettling. 

“Then, what?” You ask, only slightly annoyed. “We’re not exactly slow on customers right now—”

Another shared look, this time tense. Which one speaks first—it feels like race.

“Look, I already told Joel—” Tommy begins.

“Sweetheart, you need to know somethin’—” Joel interjects.

And it clicks quickly. Very quickly.

The shared look of frustration as they both purse their lips in a tight line, identical hands resting against their hips. This was ridiculous—the fighting, the silent arguing without actually sharing words.

“I’m not choosing.” You tell them forthright and their reaction is less than ideal, like two sad puppies who’ve just been scolded for bad behavior, but they both stay quiet and hang on your words, seeing that you weren’t finished. “If that’s what you’re expecting me to do.”

“No, that’s not—” Joel tries to argue, his voice fairly level for how distraught he seemed.

“I want you both,” You shrug, rising with the box in your grip, “so, if I can’t have that—then no.”

And you leave them with that, stewing in their own thoughts. Their gazes follow you as you walk, shoving past them gently.

“I’m not givin’ up.” Joel tells Tommy instantly, a look of defiance from his younger brother is thrown his way–Tommy was just as stubborn as Joel, if not more.

“Yeah, neither am I.”

-

Of course, you already knew how you wanted this to go.

You spoke to them both separately, promising a proper date at a specified place on a specific day and time—they wanted you and you wanted them. But, you were doing things your way.

And that is how you end up at the Miller’s brothers home again, a few weeks later, both of the men dumbfounded at how you mastered this plan. They were both wholly faithful to you, agreeing to go along with your plan to lie to the other brother so they wouldn’t get suspicious or upset, but really, you just wanted them both chasing their own tails.

They didn’t realize what was going on until they found themselves both getting ready at the same time that day, something lingering in the air that they couldn’t put their finger on until you were knocking at the door, a wide smile on your face. Joel answers, but Tommy isn’t far behind.

It’s how you end up on the couch later that night, squeezed together and eyes droning into the movie playing on the television screen, lingering touches like burns against your skin. Joel and Tommy are trying to avoid each other, but sometimes they’ll bump fingers and shoot a scowl at each other, but then you’re adjusting yourself to find another comfortable position and their attention is quickly drawn back.

Some of it is spent against Tommy, head resting against his solid chest but Joel’s hands never stray too far, a warm and comforting presence against your shoulder or thigh, a tender rub of his thumb into your sore muscles. Tommy likes to run his fingers along the shell of your ear, his chest shaking with a laugh at the movie every so often—there was little conversation happening and you blamed that on the obvious tension in the air.

When you trade Tommy’s touch for Joel, he’s ready for you.

You tend to like wrapping yourself around him, arms snug around his own like you’ve done a million times before, but you find your fingers dragging along the length of his forearm and he’s more shifty than usual, socked feet crossing and uncrossing as your touch grows, all the while Tommy’s hand firmly on your thigh, squeezing when you squirm a little too much, feet hiked up and resting in his lap. His thumb circles your ankle and rubs, a gentle massage to your bare feet as you sigh and that—that is what catches their attention.

“That feel good?” Tommy asks casually, a genuine question.

You weren’t one to complain about sore, achy feet and muscles from long shifts at the bar, but you weren’t going to turn down a nice massage or welcoming touch. You nod and Tommy smiles, allowing his deft and strong fingers to dig into the muscles of your foot, pulling another sated sigh from your lips. Joel hears the soft release of a breath from your lips and turns his head toward you, a subtle smile pulling at your lips as he stares at you more unabashed and open than usual. It’s the same look he gave you before kissing you the night of the party and you feel it, see it before it happens.

And somehow within the shared exchange, Tommy’s hand has climbed higher along your calf as he massages tenderly until he’s nearly at your apex, supple muscle pliant other his skin as he squeezes. Joel whispers something to you as he leans in, feeling the shift in the environment.

“This alright with you?” Joel asks quietly as you look over at Tommy, who despite himself looks just as eager if not more, like they weren’t completely turned off by the idea that you wanted both of them

Possibly at the same time.

“I think I should be asking you two that…” Your voice trails as Joel’s free hand slips to cup the back of your head, fingers molding with the shape of you as he tilts your head back, allowing him the lead willingly—and Tommy is there, right there at the apex of your thighs and you want is so fucking bad it pains you, physically and mentally.

“Oh, darlin’—there’s a few stories I could tell you,” Tommy offers, fingers lingering over the button of your jeans until you nod, quickly popping the thread apart and allowing his fingers to curl around the waistband of your jeans, tugging gingerly, “but that’s not important.”

Joel mouths at the line of your jaw instead of capturing your lips immediately, dragging out your suffering longer as you assist Tommy in his tug at your jeans, kicking the denim of your ankles as his large hand settles of your clothed pussy, panties damp at the center despite how hard you’ve tried to ignore the instant pleasure they’re touch gave you.

“No, no tell me.” You nod furiously, feeling Joel grins against the side of your face.

“It was a long, long time ago, sweetheart.” Joel defends, “Back in high school and college when Tommy just couldn’t go off and have his own things, always wanting everything his brother had.”

Tommy scoffs, scooting closer to you as he drapes a leg over his lap, spreading you wider for him, his hand following a slow path back and forth—all the way down to the apex of your knee before gradually back up to your pussy, throbbing underneath his touch as his fingers press into the sticky, wet fabric.

“That’s a stretch,” Tommy scoffs, “Anyways, darlin’—we used to, uh—”

Tommy doesn’t know why he feels ashamed to admit. So, Joel does it for him.

“We like to share, sometimes.” Joel explains. “I mean, I’m not in favor of sharin’ you but if that’s what you want…”

You nod furiously, the press of Tommy’s fingers grow stronger as he slips them past the side of your panties, touching the bare seam of your pussy, covered in the copious amount of sweet slick that had accumulated between your thighs.

“Oh, that’s what she wants,” Tommy surmises, a small chuckle hidden within his speech as his mouth hangs open slightly, watching yours grow wider as you gasp, his bare touch like a spark, “isn’t that right?”

You nod again, but that isn’t what he’s looking for.

“Need you to say it, sweetheart.” Joel demands, his hand squeezing at the thigh that wasn’t stretched out over Tommy’s lap, the other resting against your neck now, squeezing the muscle gently under his grip, his lips only a few millimeters from your own now. “Say you want this.”

“I do—fuck, I do,” You whimper, a single digit slipping past your entrance and into you, the stretch not quite what you’re looking for but the touch alone—from Tommy, is enough to drive you mad, “I w—want it. Both of you.”

“I think we can make that happen.” Joel agrees easily, capturing your lips in a searing kiss—heated in a way that has your stomach doing flips and your free hand gripping his grown out hair, peppered with grays but so fucking soft between your fingers.

Tommy slips in a conspicuous second finger in the midst of the heated kiss and it surprises you how good it feels, just graced by the thickness of his fingers but you need more. Want more.

There’s a subtle snarl to the way Tommy admires you so openly, his eyes dragging along the slow rise and fall of your chest and the way you cunt sucks his fingers in with greed and nothing else. He wants to taste you. 

There’s a brief look he offers as you break apart from Joel, breathless as you turn your head toward him, Joel’s following as his eyes trail toward the point where Tommy’s fingers are buried inside of you.

“Use those words,” Joel whispers against your cheek, a smirk growing on his face, “don’t be afraid.”

“Whaddya need, darlin’?” Tommy asks enticingly, removing his fingers in an anxious anticipation, wet fingers dragging along your thigh. “Gonna let me taste you?”

“Please, god—please.” You whine pathetically, watching as Tommy dicends without question, removing your panties with a swiftness that deafens the task at hand. It takes a moment as you untangle yourself from Joel to settle more central on the couch, squealing softly as Tommy manhandles your thighs over his shoulder, settled on his knees and his palms pressing flat over the tops of your thighs.

Joel settles solidly behind you after some maneuvering, a sturdiness to his chest that takes the brunt of your weight as you relax against him, his hands quickly finding their way under your shirt and pulling it up until the fabric is bunched under your skin, bare breasts on full display as he runs a gentle, testing touch over them with his palm, eyes closing at the overwhelming sensation of both of them surrounding you. You don’t even have the guise to feel shy that this was the first time they were seeing you like this–it felt normal, like this is what was supposed to happen.

Tommy floats a hot breath against your skin, kissing a line up the inside of your thigh before he speaks, “I got you, darlin’,” He assures you, “—tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you.”

You nod shakily, looking up hesitantly at Joel over your shoulder and he can only offer a grin, though his eyes harbor something much darker. “Tell ‘em, baby.” He urges, “You want him to eat your pussy, right?”

You nod obediently and Joel grabs ahold of your chin gently, guiding your gaze back toward Tommy, feeling the heat of his gaze burn into you.

“Need your mouth, Tommy,” You beg, earning a gentle squeeze of acknowledgement from Joel against your chin, who leans in with a gentle whisper of tell him where as you exhale an even shakier breath than before, “on my pussy—please—”

Tommy snickers softly before he obliges, a slow, languid lick of his tongue through your folds as he starts, ripping a quiet gasp from your chest as your hand instantly finds his hair, overgrown like Joel’s but stark black and gelled back like usual, never a hair out of place.

That wasn’t going to be the case much longer, fingers fisting into his hair and using it as leverage, the slow licks between your lips quickly exploring inside of you, teasing dips into your hole as he chuckles a soft breath which each and every squirm you offered, all while under the intense gaze of Joel, who was clearly holding out—he wouldn’t kiss you as hard as you tried, trained on your face as you challenged his eye contact, not daring to let it go unless he physically forced you to look away. His hand still lingered against your chin but occasionally fled for a comforting touch when things got intense too quickly and you were almost teetering over the edge, but he quickly brought you back down.

And within that, you’re so blinded by pleasure to not realize that he’s instructing Tommy the entire time, only catching onto the last few commands as Tommy devours, making his own selfish noises as he groaned when you pulled a little too tight on his hair, mumbling praises of depravity and a ‘so fuckin’ sweet—always knew you were, darlin’ and the occasional, breathier ‘come on baby—use my face, fuckin’ take it.’.

Joel speaks to Tommy directly, despite keeping his eyes on you.

“Oh, you’re right there, huh?” Joel asks you goadingly, “Need more?”

You nod eagerly, despite how good Tommy’s mouth feels, he was lacking in one important aspect—you couldn’t blame him, he was a little overwhelmed with everything, as were you. But, Joel, he seemed the most-level headed and you were so fucking thankful for it.

“Want him to play with your clit, sweetheart?” He asks, “S’that what you need?”

“Ye—Yes.” You stutter, the gentle squeeze of your breast under Joel’s grip causing you to clench around Tommy’s tongue and he flicks his eyes up toward you both and there was no telling how pathetic you looked, but Tommy seemed just as equal on that playing field.

“You heard ‘er, Tommy.” Joel tells him, “give our girl what she wants.”

Our girl.

It doesn’t take long when his tongue presses against your clit, circling maddeningly until you have no other choice but to grip onto the couch and moan, the tightening, agonizing feeling in your stomach bursting at the seams as you come against his tongue. Joel captures your mouth to swallow the moan, not trying to give Tommy the satisfaction just yet while his brother greedily licked away at your pussy, cleaning up the mess you’d made, a gentle smile on your face as you finally came back down, allowing Joel to lick greedily into your mouth before you chanced a glance at Tommy, his pupils blown out in pleasure.

“Think we should move this to the bedroom?” Joel asks preemptively, a soft laughing bubbling from your chest.

“Yeah—yes, please.” You agree, but your legs feel weak, unable to bear your weight.

“I got you, baby.” Tommy assures, helping you to your feet gently, a comforting hand on your waist as he led you toward what you could assume was Joel’s room–considering he had the bigger of the two, Joel following closely behind. 

The deafening click on the door is both a promise and a warning.

This was a secret held within these walls and whatever took place could not be reversed.

You were willing to take that risk though, selfishly.

And you were sure the Miller brothers shared the same sentiment.

-

And for some reason, you didn’t think it was that important you come again. Not after the first, seeing as how they had proved their point in wanting you, nearly brought you to tears with your first orgasm and maybe—maybe you could just blow them both and it would be fine, even the playing fields and leave it at that. 

But, no. That’s not what they wanted. Or planned for.

Joel eats your pussy for fun, he doesn’t even try to make you come. You manage to convince Tommy out of his jeans early, using the fist you have wrapped in his shirt as leverage as you hover on your hands and knees, gripping his thick cock in your free hand and giving it a few slow tugs, knowing that if he was this big, there was no telling what Joel had to offer. 

He’s uncut and girthy, thick veins lining his cock as you lapped teasingly at the head, pulling the foreskin back as you took him into your mouth, a moan reverberating over his cock as Joel ate you out from behind, ass high in the air as he settled on his knees. It wasn’t an ideal position, but Joel wasn’t complaining and neither were you.

Joel had always stripped at some point, still clad in his boxers but devoid of everything else. He’s much wider than Tommy but not nearly as firm—where Tommy has a more chiseled chest and stomach, Joel carries a softness that still beckons with strength. 

“Fuck, darlin’,” Tommy sighs, “got a goddamn mouth on you, you know that?”

To some extent, you did. He knew you liked to argue at every possible opportunity, throw back witty remarks that sometimes he didn’t even have a response to but this—this is more than he could imagine. Wet, hot heat surrounded his cock in a way that could have him coming within a few strokes, but he was determined.

You nod with your mouth latched around his cock, taking him to the base until he nudges that back of your throat, trying desperately to ignore how it makes your eyes water, hearing Tommy groan deeply with the feeling of you swallowing around him.

“I’m gonna cum,” Tommy warns, “—go on, baby, pull off if you wanna.”

You shake your head defiantly, feeling Joel chuckle against your cunt from behind you.

“She’s greedy, brother,” Joel comments slyly, “You should know that.”

Tommy comes with a low groan, fingers wrapping around the arm still gripping his shirt, thumb rubbing against the skin to soothe himself and keep him anchored here, feeling like he might teleport to another goddamn dimension with how eagerly you swallow down his cum.

You pull off with a soft pop and look at Tommy, grinning proudly. He can’t even hide his adoration, chuckling behind a toothy grin as you pull away from Joel, turning in Tommy’s lap and pressing your back against his chest.

“You think I’m greedy?” You ask Joel teasingly.

“Look at you,” Joel comments snidely, though there’s a playfulness to his tone, “couldn’t settle for one of us so you’re gettin’ both—that seems pretty damn greedy to me.”

You nod mawkishly to his words, watching as he grew closer, shifting on his knees as you leaned forward slightly, feeling the gentle press of Tommy’s palm against your back, his spent and softening dick, pressed against your bare ass. He knew it wouldn’t take long, just a few minutes and he’d be even harder than before, unable to resist you.

“And if I want more?” You ask curiously.

“More what, sweetheart?”

“Well, for starters—I want your cum, Joel.” You tell him honestly, “Can you give me that?”

“Dunno, you think you deserve that?”

Tommy’s watching the exchange with an amused grin, feeling it was a well-deserved punishment to Joel with how often you and him argue this way. Joel was finally getting a taste of the medicine he so often mocked Tommy for complaining about.

“Come here.” You beckon, grabbing lazily at his wrist and pulling him toward you.

He seems hesitant at first, but he leans over you, sandwiching you between him and Tommy as you press your lips in a featherlight touch against his own.

“Kiss me.” You demand.

“What?” He asks curiously, like his brother hadn’t just come in your mouth.

And that’s exactly why–it doesn’t make your skin crawl, in fact, it only turns you on more.

“Please, Joel,” You pout, “just a little peck and then I’ll let you fuck me while Tommy has to watch–that’s what you want right? Wanna pull some claim over me while your brother can’t do anything about it, am I wrong?”

Joel kisses you so intensely it forces you back against Tommy, a small mmph leaving your mouth as Joel quickly gained the upper hand and wraps his large, rough hands under your ass and scoots you further down the bed until the back of your thighs press against the top of his and you moan as he licks into your mouth, knowing that the lingering of Tommy’s headiness touches his tongue and you bite down harshly on his bottom lip as he pulls apart for a brief, lingering moment. 

Here it comes—the questioning consent, the lingering wonders.

“I’m covered, Joel.” You assure him, “We don’t need them. I trust you both are clean.”

Assuming that Tommy was going to fuck you too—which, god, you fucking hoped.

That’s all Joel needs, nodding before he grabs ahold of his shaft, dragging the tip of his cock through you wetness, gathering it in a slow teasing trail before he presses inside slowly, watching the stretch of you around his cock. You can’t help but keep your eyes locked on the same point either, because what Joel lacked in slight girth he made up for in length, feeling the numb press of him inside of you before he was even fully sheathed.

“Goddamn, sweetheart,” He says, voice strained, “that’s a tight fuckin’ fit. Think you can handle it?”

You laugh brokenly, Tommy’s hands comforting over your shoulder before they trail to your breasts, teasingly rubbing a nipple between his fingers, watching it pebble underneath his touch.

“Do you want a pat on the back or something?” You retort, “Fuck me, Joel.”

“There she is,” Tommy comments in amusement, “I knew you were in there. Give it to ‘em, darlin.”

“Shut it, Tommy,” Joel snaps, “Know what, sweetheart, I got a challenge for you.”

Joel moves his hips slowly, pulling out slowly before pushing back in even more agonizingly slower. “No touchin’, how’s that sound? Think you can handle it.”

You shake your head. Honestly, Joel could respect it.

“Fine—Tommy, hold her hands.” Joel settles and part of you expects Tommy to argue.

He doesn’t. In fact, he looks just as greedy about the idea. And he knows if you were uncomfortable with it you would speak up, because secretly—it was exactly what you wanted. Render your power and your own autonomy for a brief moment and give yourself over to them equally. Tommy holds his hands out in wait, wiggling his fingers teasingly.

You hand them over with a soft sigh, feigning annoyance. He guides them to wrap around his waist behind you, arms stretched over your head as Joel has a solid grip on the underside of your thighs, hips still moving slowly throughout, so slow that you forget he’s actually seated inside you until he snaps his hips once, twice, his resistance snapping when he sees you settle.

Tommy settled on his own knees, though sat deeper into the bed, his hands a tight, mindful presence against your wrist as you squeeze and claw at his skin as Joel pistons his hips with a ferocity that seeks vengeance, or something there of. 

“Squeeze my cock, sweetheart,” Joel goads, feeling you do just that as your eyes roll back, “yeah—don’t act like this wasn’t what you planned from the beginning.”

“Our girl’s good at that,” Tommy comments, staring down at you with a mischievous smirk, “playin’ us both—kinda like it though, I’ll admit.”

“Shut up,” You groan, “Both of you.”

You pointedly pinch at Tommy’s skin and he tilts his head in both amusement and confusion.

“I think she’s gettin’ a little upset,” Tommy acknowledges, “You don’t think it’s fair, darlin?”

You almost have the courage to reply when Joel’s thumb drags over your clit, rubbing in quick and determined circles to match the intensity of his thrusts, using his spread knees to keep your thighs wide and open for him, eyes locked on your cunt as you squeeze around him repeatedly, moaning wantonly into your bicep as you turn your head to the side.

But, Joel doesn’t appreciate that. He grabs your chin quickly, and clicks his tongue in disapproval, “Nuh uh, sweetheart. You keep those eyes on Tommy. Let him see how good I make you feel, alright?”

You pout slightly, biting harshly at your bottom lip as Joel shifts his hips slightly, but it feels earth-shattering, one hand planted into the mattress to allow for him to reach something deeper inside of you, if that was possible.

“I’m right—right,” You sigh, eyes tearing up as you looked at Tommy, clawing gently at his sides, “fuck–I’m right there, Tommy.”

Despite Joel being inside you, his name slips out. It shouldn’t turn him on as much as it does. And he wants to give you relief but really, he’s just eager to be inside of you too. He knows the quicker Joel finishes up that he can have you, so he encourages his brother. And Joel is too desperate for his own release to argue.

“Ask him, sweetheart.” Joel notices your eagerness for approval from Tommy and plays into it, feeling the familiar feeling building in his gut as he grits his teeth.

You nod furiously in understanding, eyes trained on Tommy. “I need to—can I come, please?”

“Go on, baby.” He agrees softly, rubbing a gentle hand over your chest as he feels your body shake with your orgasm as Joel swiped a thumb over your clit before everything goes white, gasping sharply at the intensity, but you don’t have much time to recover before Joel is pulling out and allowing Tommy to assist as you sit up slightly and feel the press of Joel’s cock against your lip, the blurriness in your eyes quickly clearing as he comes in long, forceful spurts over your tongue.

You lap greedily, swallowing visibly as Joel squeezes at his cock and forces out the last few bits of cum he had to offer, rubbing the tip against your tongue as you giggled softly, kissing his cock head gently.

There’s a brief second where you think they might allow you a break, a moment to collect yourself, but Joel is staring at you with his head cocked to the side, palming his softening dick as he glances over you at his brother.

“I dunno if she’s up for it,” Joel offers, “I think that might’ve taken it out of her.”

A shame, really. But, your eyebrows furrow in defiance as you quickly shove Joel, gently and not at all enough to really move him more than a few millimeters. It causes Tommy to chuckle.

“He’s just playin’ around, baby.” Tommy comforts, “You think you can handle it?”

You nod eagerly, turning on your knees as you rise to meet him with an eager kiss, something you haven’t had the chance to do all night. Tommy kisses with more eagerness, more passion—it’s less experience than what you feel with Joel. Tommy has so much he wants to match with you; the curiosity and unity in the way you touch him. You kiss like new lovers and it feels your body with warmth, both of you laughing softly against each other’s lips.

“I can handle it.”

Tommy eyes you seriously, following your playful gaze.

“Get to the edge of the bed.”

And—oh, that’s…different. Like a switch and you can barely recognize him.

Joel and Tommy switch with a trained ease as Tommy guides you to the end of the bed, the top of the mattress pressing at your waistline and giving you easy leverage to lean against and Joel is right there, in perfect view and waiting for you. He seems softer now too, more relaxed.

You think Tommy might give you a moment but he’s already hard again and eager, sliding inside of you in one go—hard and sharp as your hands press into the mattress between Joel’s thighs, gripping the sheets tightly.

=

Tommy grips tightly at the back of your neck and pulls you upwards, pressing his face into the side of yours and speaking tensely against your skin, “Why don’t you be a good girl and give my brother a taste of what your mouth can do, huh, baby?”

You nod obediently, shivering at the way Tommy mouths at your skin greedily before forcing you back down against Joel, his hands spread out beside him, cock hard against and resting against his belly.

He’s almost positive he won’t be able to come again–not this soon, but he isn’t going to deny himself the taste of your mouth, watching as you move with eagerness to please him and Tommy. The sharp snap of Tommy’s hips makes it a little difficult and Joel wants to scold his brother’s eagerness and lack of restraint, but he knows—Joel knows how good you feel and he can’t even blame him. 

He offers a guiding hand as you swallow him down, swirling your tongue around the tip a few times, repeating the process with his hand resting gently against the side of your face, thumb rubbing tenderly at the joint in your jaw, feeling him stretch you and heightening the growing ache that will linger for a while.

“Fuck, our girl’s got such a sweet pussy, don’t she?” Joel comments snarkily, eyebrows furrowing when you take him a little too deep, “Can’t get enough of it—just like this goddamn mouth.”

You moan pathetically and Joel can’t handle it, gripping your face between his palms as he presses his lips to yours forcefully, swallowing the whine that leaves your mouth as you feel Tommy’s hands roam and tightening against your body, soft expletives leaving his mouth as he fucks into you and hand gradually arriving at your shoulder and tightening around the skin, pulling him back against your harshly.

Joel rubs his thumbs against your cheeks, eyes locked on yours, “Yeah—think you can come again, sweetheart?” A third? Not a fuckin’ chance. You shake your head weakly, ‘You can, I know you can,” And there’s Joel’s soothing voice, the one you hear so often at work, “You keep your eyes on me, alright? Nowhere else.”

“Listen to ‘em, baby.” Tommy interjects after a long bout of silence, too lost in his own head as he relishes in the squeeze of you around his cock, committing it to memory. “Gonna make sure you feel us tomorrow while you’re at work.”

Joel chuckles at that, the slow trail of Tommy’s hand as it finds your clit and begins slow circles, easing into it, “Yeah, how ‘bout that,” Joel comments teasingly, “maybe we just can’t resist ourselves and we can take turns fuckin’ you in the back office. But, you’d like that wouldn’t you?”

You moan sheepishly, eyes falling shut up.

Joel tsks, “Eyes on me means you keep ‘em open too, baby. Answer me.”

“Yes—yes, fuck—I would. I would.” You rush out, feeling Tommy’s pace quicken and the ache in your stomach builds and builds, tears building in your eyes as you keep them locked on Joel. 

Despite his demands his face remains gentle and you find yourself sobbing softly into his hands as Tommy snaps his hips one last time, coming inside of you with a deep, guttural groan as he tips you over the edge too. It’s too much, overly-sensitive and your muscles burning with more ache than when you started you let out another sob, falling against Joel.

“Go on, get somethin’ to clean up,” He tells Tommy over your shoulder, “I got her.”

You fall slack against him, feeling him adjust himself on the bed until you can sit properly, leaning you against his body as he hands run along your back, soft sobs wracking your body.

“Hey, you still with me?” Joel asks hesitantly. “Was it too much?”

You feel yourself start to calm under his touch, quickly shaking your head.

“Just…overwhelmed.” You admit, “Too much.”

“Too much?” Joel echoes with an endearing chuckle. 

“Yes,” You admit amusingly, “I guess I wasn’t expecting…that.”

“That’s fair,” Joel offers, gripping your hand in his own and intertwining your fingers, “this doesn’t—we don’t usually do this. We haven’t in a long time. I don’t want you to think this is something you're bound to now.”

“Like he could fire you if he wanted to,” Tommy interjects with a sly grin, somehow managing to redress amidst your talk with Joel, just a pair of dark colored briefs but it allows what just happened to settle in more deeply, “come here, darlin.”

Joel switches off, pulling his own underwear on somewhere near the other side of the bed. And you welcome the warmth of the washcloth as Tommy drags it between your legs, hissing only slightly, “I know, you’re pretty sensitive—m’sorry.” Tommy mumbles, gingerly cleaning you up, dragging the wet wash cloth along your thighs as well, tender from his and Joel’s teasing bites at your flesh. “Better?”

“Thank you.” You say softly, his free hand gripping your waist tenderly.

Joel offers up your clothes silently, eyeing his brother wearily as he bounds around the room, gathering his own clothes and re-dressing, though Joel stays in his nearly bare state of undress, briefs allowing him some modesty.

“I’m gonna check the bar,” Tommy offers, “should only take an hour or so.”

Joel nods, “Alright, just…keep me updated, I guess.”

He isn’t ushering you out either, his lingering presence by your side as you pull your underwear up your thighs, a gentle touch of reassurances as you wobble on unsteady legs. Tommy chuckles lightly at the sight, winking when he catches your disgruntled gaze, nose scrunched up in annoyance. 

“No fun without me.” Tommy jokes.

“Tommy—” Joel says steely as his brother throws his head back over his shoulder, slipping on his boots, “get the fuck out of my room.”

Tommy offers a mock salute and does just that, leaving you alone with Joel for the first time that night.

“I’m guessing the same rules apply to me?” You ask, shoving your arms through the holes in your shirt, yanking it over your head and you catch Joel shaking his head, pulling you to your feet with a hand when you finally look at him.

“I got you all to myself now,” Joel says quietly, “think I deserve to be a little selfish.”

You wince at the thought of any more sex tonight, but are thankful his hands down stray from your side when they settle there.

“Joel, I can’t—”

“Sleep here tonight,” He offers, “I’ll cook breakfast in the morning."

“I think you just want to keep to yourself all night so Tommy can’t have me, don’t you?”

Joel grins, leaning in for a gentle peck of your lips, “You’re damn right, sweetheart.”

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Hi DJ! If you’re still doing the ficlet requests, can I get 24 (cuddles of reassurance) with Wolffe? Maybe fem!reader is having a hard time with sex and feels embarrassed/overwhelmed? (If that’s too explicit/uncomy feel free to ignore :))

Just a Little Bit More

A/N: Thank you so much for this request, Alli! I’ve actually been wanting to write a fic like this for a while. I feel like so much of the smut we see in fanfiction AND in published fiction/media in general is so idealized that even when it has elements of realism, it can present a distorted idea of what sex and intimacy can really be like. I’m certainly guilty of writing somewhat idealized smut, though I do try to maintain at least some semblance of realism (unless Sev is involved; all bets are off with that man). While there’s nothing wrong with having that fantasy, I think it’s healthy and important to also show the reality that it isn’t always easy or flawless, even with a caring, experienced partner who takes our pleasure seriously and does everything “right.”

Pairing: Commander Wolffe x Reader (Fem; has hair)

Rating: M (mature content intended for readers 18+; minors DNI)

Wordcount: 3.3K of straight smut with some cuddles

Warnings and tags: cuddles; hurt comfort; language; SMUT; oral sex; PIV; nipple play; light/playful spanking; body worship; sex toys; fingering; exhibitionism; voyeurism; creampie; difficulty with orgasm. AKA, the return of SMUTKEA.

Summary: Wolffe is the best you’ve ever had. That doesn’t mean it’s always perfect.

Suggested Listening: 

This fic smells like: Fruit de La Créativité by Grès (raspberry & leather)

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Wolffe gazed up into your eyes as you rolled your hips slowly, searching for the perfect angle. You knew you could find it: you’d done it before, countless times. His strong, warm hands glided up your thighs to your hips, pulling you closer, thrusting deeper, guiding you closer and closer to your pleasure. You could feel it building inside you, the tension gathering slowly.

Too slowly.

He smoothed one hand up your side, grazing along your rib cage until he cupped your breast, circling your nipple with his thumb. He knew exactly how much pressure you liked, and the way he touched you was perfect.

God, he’s so hot. Just focus on how hot he is.

Sweat glistened on your skin. The room hadn’t been this hot when he’d pulled you into bed, but after an hour and a half of vigorous activity, you were both slick with perspiration, saliva, arousal, and lube. He’d mapped your body with kisses, gliding his lips and tongue across your skin as he devoured you, bringing you right to the edge until you begged him to fuck you. 

You’d wrapped your legs around his waist as he eased into you, a tormented groan rumbling from his lips as he felt your heat envelope him. Gods, he felt amazing, and when he started to move, you knew it would only be a matter of minutes before you came. 

It took longer than you expected, and after a while, you realized something needed to change. 

“Take me from behind,” you’d murmured, knowing how much he loved the way your ass pressed into his hips in that position.

“God, yes,” he’d replied, pulling out and rolling you over with enthusiasm.

You loved the way he handled you in bed. He was so fucking strong. He could toss you around so easily—it was hot as hell, but the best thing about it was the care he took to make sure you were comfortable and he didn’t accidentally hurt you. He lifted your hips up and positioned you exactly the way he wanted you. You heard a small click as he closed the bottle of lube, and then you felt his slickened fingers glide over your cunt as he ensured you were ready to take him from the new angle.

“Maker, that ass is gorgeous,” he said, squeezing your cheeks before giving you a playful smack. 

Your mischievous giggle turned into a breathless moan as he sank into you, reaching deeper, stretching you wider, as his hand slid down your body to tease your clit. You loved the way he touched you, the way he caged you in with his body, making you feel incredibly safe and protected. And of course, you loved his cock. He knew exactly how to use it to ensure he gave you as much pleasure as he took—or more.

And still, your orgasm remained tantalizingly just out of reach. He shifted, and for a moment, his body rested heavily on you before he resumed his rhythm.

He’s getting tired. Fuck. Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up. I need to give him a break.

“Want me to be on top?” you offered, hoping that yet another angle would be the one that finally pushed you past whatever mental block was keeping you from your release.

He paused, his hands resting on your hips. “Is that what you want?”

“Sure,” you replied. “If you do?”

He trailed his fingers down your spine before slowly withdrawing from your body. You turned to watch as he rolled onto his back and kicked the blankets off the bed. He reached for you with that sexy smirk that you loved so much, and you knew without question that he still wanted you.

He’s such a good man. Gods, he deserves the world.

“Hop on, darlin’,” he invited.

You crawled toward him with a smile, pausing a moment to kneel between his thighs. You traced your fingertips up his legs and over his balls, then ghosted a line up the underside of his cock. You glanced up to see his eyes fixed on you with an intense expression. Holding his gaze, you dropped lower and flicked your tongue over his tip, then slid his cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue over him. You could taste yourself on his skin—salty, tangy, unspeakably erotic. His hips flexed beneath you, and you heard his breath grow ragged.

He caressed your head gently, stroking his hand over your hair and jaw before coming to rest on your shoulders.

“Not gonna last if you keep that up,” he said quietly. “Come up here.”

You gave him one last defiant, flirtatious little suck before you released him, then you began to crawl up to him, kissing a trail up his abdomen and chest. You straddled his hips, kissing and licking your way up his throat, and as you reached his lips, you whispered, “You taste like pussy.”

“Then I must be delicious,” he murmured, wrapping his hand around the back of your neck and pulling you into a passionate kiss.

His tongue slid into your mouth as his cock thrust into your cunt, and for a moment you were overwhelmed with the sensations of him filling you. A fresh wave of arousal had flooded you as you’d pleasured him with your mouth, and he slipped into you easily, rocking into you with his powerful thighs. You braced your fists against the mattress on either side of his head, pressing down to meet his thrusts as you rode him hard and fast, chasing your pleasure with a desperation that started to border on frantic as release continued to elude you.

“Gonna make you come so hard,” he whispered. “And then I’m gonna fill you up. You feel so goddamn good. Can’t wait to feel you come around my cock.”

I’m trying, damn it!

“You feel incredible,” you replied breathlessly, and it was true, so why was this so kriffing difficult?

Your hips were starting to get sore from how long you’d been at it, so you shifted positions, bringing your knees higher and setting a slower pace to try to buy yourself enough time that you’d have the energy to make it to the finish line. Wolffe adjusted instantly, not even needing a verbal cue to understand the message your body sent. You found the angle that pressed his cock against the perfect place inside you, and you focused on trying to get as much stimulation there as you possibly could, cutting out all extraneous movement.

The longer it took, the more anxious and desperate you became. You tried to shut down the voice in your head that whispered, “He’s getting bored,” because you knew it was a lie. All you had to do was look into his beautiful, mismatched eyes to see how much he wanted you. And you were so close. So fucking close, if you could just get out of your own head long enough to let go.

You traced your fingertips across his cheekbone and along his jaw, grazing your thumb across his lips. You pressed gently, parting his lips to brush your thumb against his tongue, and then you leaned down and kissed him deeply, trying to lose yourself in the sensation of his lips and tongue against your own.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered as you broke from the kiss and returned your hand to brace against the mattress. “So fuckin’ beautiful.”

Please stop talking. You couldn’t say it out loud; what kind of an asshole says something like that in response to a compliment?

“You’re so sexy,” you whispered instead. “You’re amazing at this.”

It was true; he was amazing. Unquestionably the best you’d ever had. In the time you’d been together, he’d learned your body completely, identifying every spot that made you shiver, testing different approaches until he knew exactly how and where you liked to be touched, kissed, caressed. He knew where to use his teeth, and where to use his breath; he knew when you wanted him to be tender, and when you craved roughness. 

He knew you.

He knew you better than anyone ever had, and that made your current predicament even more maddening. Because sometimes it was easy. Sometimes you came so fast that your orgasm surprised both of you. But most of the time, it took more work. A lot more. And sometimes, like this one, you would get so close to the edge that you were only seconds away, only to feel the wave of pleasure ebb and be replaced with frustration and exhaustion.

Please, please, please. Just a little bit more.

Your wrists ached. Your knuckles were raw from grinding them into the sheets. You shifted your weight and lifted one hand off the mattress, stretching your fingers and trying to get the blood flowing to them. He glanced at your hand, then back up into your eyes.

“What can I do?” he asked softly.

“Just… keep going,” you said desperately. “I’m so close—I’m so fucking close, and I just can’t—I can’t—”

Abrupt tears stung your eyes, and you buried your face against his neck to hide them, kissing his chest to try to distract him from your distress.

He wrapped his arms around your body, still rocking into you at the pace you’d set. “Do you want to take a break?”

“No, I want you to come,” you snapped, disappointment sharpening your tone more than you intended.

He stilled immediately. You felt his hand slide up your back to stroke your hair softly.

“Hey,” he murmured, kissing the top of your head. “Look at me.”

You shook your head and burrowed your face obstinately into the nook where his neck met his shoulder.

“Talk to me, little one,” he urged. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

The dam cracked and then burst. 

“I’m so fucking tired,” you sobbed. “And I can tell you’re getting tired, and I just want it to be good for you, and every time I think I’m getting there, I lose it!”

Mortification swept through you that you were making a scene during such an intimate moment, and you tried to stifle your sobs, but it was too late. You felt him go soft inside you, and then he slipped from your body.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I didn’t mean to ruin it for you.”

His arms tightened around you, and he rolled the both of you onto your sides, pulling you close against his body. “You didn’t ruin anything.”

Holding you tightly with one arm, he began to run his hand lightly over your back, comforting you with his touch as he kissed your forehead.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he repeated. “You just got tired. It’s all right, love. It happens.”

“It’s so frustrating,” you confessed. “So many times, I thought I was there, and then something would distract me, and it was just gone.”

“Was it something I did?” he asked.

“No, of course not. It was just… I don’t know. A noise? Or a weird thought that popped into my head at a bad time?” You paused, feeling a little guilty as you remembered that, in fact, you had gotten annoyed at an ill-timed remark from him. “And then the longer it took, the more it stressed me out about how long it was taking, until I was stressing so much about it that that’s all I could think about.”

He moved his hand to your shoulder and began to glide it up and down your arm in long, languid strokes. “Why were you worried about taking too long?”

You paused, unaccountably hesitant to admit the truth. He waited patiently, still caressing your arm, until at last you replied, “I was worried you were getting tired. Or bored. Or—I don’t know…”

His hand stilled in its progress, then slid around your back as he pulled you even closer to him. “I would never get bored with you.”

“But—”

“I love you,” he cut you off firmly. “I love being with you. I love fuckin’ you. You’re gorgeous, and sexy, and kriffin’ amazing in the sack. Do you have any idea how lucky I am? Most men only dream of finding a girl like you, but I got you for real. How the hell would I ever be stupid enough to get bored with someone as goddamn perfect as you?”

You didn’t know what to say. You lay in his arms, clinging tightly to him as the tears finally stopped trickling from your eyes. You shuddered quietly.

“Yeah?” you asked in a tiny whisper.

He rolled you onto your back and moved to lie on top of you so he could look into your eyes.

“Yeah,” he replied.

You swallowed. “I love you, too, you know.”

“I know,” he said with a charming smirk.

He pressed his lips to your sternum as his hand slid lazily up your body to play with your breast. The weight of his body pressed you down into the soft mattress as you cradled his chest between your thighs. You took a deep breath, then let it out slowly, releasing the guilt and stress and self-recrimination you’d built up in your body.

He kissed you again, and again, then he began to work his way across your chest until he drew your nipple into his mouth, brushing his tongue over your skin as he sucked gently, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. You felt a spark of renewed arousal, but with it came a surge of anxiety that rose insistently in your mind.

“Wolffe,” you whispered. “I don’t know if I can. I really am exhausted.”

He looked up at you as he continued to tease your breast. At last, he released your nipple from his lips, giving you a devilish smile.

“What if we tried something else?”

You couldn’t help the way your lips curved into an answering smile when he looked at you like that. “What did you have in mind?”

He pushed himself up off of you and leaned over to rummage through your nightstand until he retrieved a vibrator—the one you’d once jokingly called “Old Faithful” for its uncanny ability to get you off like clockwork.

“I want you to fuck yourself with this,” he said, his voice dropping to a gravelly pitch. “I want to watch you make yourself come.”

Your breath stuttered to a halt, your eyes widening and your heart beginning to pound at the idea. Your gaze flicked from the toy to his eyes and back again.

“Wh—what about you?” you stammered.

“Don’t you worry about me,” he replied. He switched on the vibrator and traced it down your abdomen, making you twitch as its buzz tickled your skin. “Will you?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, taking the toy from him. “How do you want me?”

“Whatever way works best for you.”

You thought about trying to pose for him, to put on a show, but you knew instinctively that wasn’t what he was after. If he’d wanted to watch a counterfeit, staged orgasm, he would have just found a holoporn. No. He wanted the real thing. He wanted to see your genuine pleasure.

“All right,” you whispered.

You took the toy from him, and he moved off of your body to lie next to you, observing you closely. You adjusted the settings to your preferred speed and pattern, then took a deep breath and began.

The instant you touched the vibrator to your clit, your entire body tensed, and you gasped quietly. You glanced at Wolffe and found his gaze riveted to your pussy, his one good pupil dilated so wide you could barely see the amber ring of his iris around its inky depths. You felt a little self-conscious until you saw the way his lips parted slightly as his breath became heavy. 

You pushed yourself back into the pillow and closed your eyes as you adjusted the angle of the toy, pressing it exactly as you needed it. With your free hand, you began to play with your breast, caressing and squeezing and rolling your nipple between your fingertips. You felt the warmth of his hand as it settled onto your leg and then slid up your thigh. Your opposite leg curled up to brace your foot against the bed, opening your stance wider as you moved the vibrator exactly the way you needed it.

“Fuck,” he rasped hoarsely, and you could feel the heat of his breath on your skin. His fingers grazed lightly over your pussy, but quickly withdrew.

“You can touch me,” you gasped.

He didn’t move immediately, and you continued to work yourself closer and closer to your orgasm, feeling the tension gather in your body and begin to tighten in on your center. Then his fingertips brushed over your cunt again, and you felt his lips and tongue descend on your hip. He didn’t try to take control, just touched you softly, kissing and licking and watching as you played with yourself. 

You adjusted your position again, bringing your leg against his body, and you felt his slick, rigid cock press hard against you. You whimpered, so turned on you couldn’t even form words, and in response, he ground his erection against you. He kissed across your pelvis until he reached your belly, pressing his face into you.

“I’m so close,” you panted.

“Kriff, me too,” he growled.

His fingertip grazed into you, and your body jerked as you gasped sharply. He froze, and without thinking, you moved your hand away from your breast to grab his wrist and push him deeper. With an urgent grunt, he began to move his finger, stroking exactly where he knew you needed him.

Abruptly, your hips arched off the bed, and you let out an inhuman wail. If your brain had been functioning, you might have also heard Wolffe’s rough groan, but at the moment, you were aware of nothing but blinding, shattering pleasure as your body finally found the release it had been denied for so many hours. You jerked the vibrator away as the intensity suddenly became too much, and your body convulsed again and again until at last you collapsed onto the bed, utterly spent.

Wolffe covered you with frantic kisses, crawling up your body until he reached your face. His body hovered over you as his tongue brushed between your lips and flooded your mouth with his taste. Your arms wrapped around his torso as your legs tightened around his hips, and you pulled him into you. His cock slid easily, and he thrust hard and fast, fucking you through the last tremors of your orgasm.

He came within seconds, flooding you with heat as he thrust hard, one last time, burying his cock as deep as he could inside your body. He stayed there, his entire body taut, until at last he exhaled a hard breath and relaxed onto you. His lips broke away from yours, and he rested his forehead against the pillow next to your head.

“Fuck,” he panted, the word hot against your ear. “Fuck, you’re amazing.”

You stroked your hands up and down his back, digging your nails lightly into his skin. He groaned and slumped heavily against your body. You loved the weight of him on top of you, but before long, you began to wheeze quietly as you struggled to draw breath. He heard the shift and immediately rolled off of you, pulling you against himself as he came to rest on the bed.

“Thank you,” you whispered as you pressed your lips to his chest.

He laughed quietly. “Thank you. That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.” 

“Worth the wait?” you asked.

“Worth everything,” he murmured, drawing you even closer. “Everything, and more. You always have been.”

 ---

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[heliza24]

I want to talk a little bit about Daniel in the Interview with the Vampire show, because the new trailer material has me stuck thinking about him, and also I’ve never written about how meaningful he is as disabled character to me before.

I don’t see many people thinking about show!Daniel in these terms, but he’s a canon disabled character. And I think the way he is written is just SO good. The acerbic wit, his relationship to doctors and his medication, his rueful acceptance of the way his disability has changed him. It is all so correct!! It’s really incredibly rare to have not only a disabled character written this well but specifically a chronically ill character written this well. His illness is always present; it doesn’t get forgotten about by the story. It gives Daniel insight into the vampires (more on this in a min), but it also gives Louis and Armand leverage over him. When Louis triggers his Parkinson’s symptoms? Deeply not ok. But that’s what made it such a great scene, and really made Louis feel dangerous and threateningin that moment. Armand and Louis arranging Daniel’s meds is a sign of great care and also great power over Daniel. It’s the perfect way to communicate the complicated power dynamic in their relationship.

I also just fucking love that this show takes place in 2022 and doesn’t erase the pandemic. Covid is a very present concern for Daniel and I cannot describe how validating that is for me as someone who is clinically vulnerable to Covid and who has had to really limit my life and take a lot of precautions because everyone else has decided to stop caring whether they pass on Covid or not. The fact that Daniel gets on a plane to Dubai is a BIG DEAL. He’s risking his life to talk to Louis and Armand before he’s even in the room with them. He really wants to be there. I have to make a similar calculation every time I travel, and trust me, getting on that plane knowing getting sick could spiral you into even worse health or kill you is really hard.

I think making Daniel disabled and including the pandemic is kind of a genius level decision on a thematic level. Of course Daniel is now facing down his mortality, which gives him a whole new lens on the vampires and the fact that he once asked them to turn him. And the pandemic further highlights his fragility, and is also possibly being used as a cover for drama that’s happening in the vampire world. But I think it also really sets Daniel up as a foil to Louis.

There’s a lot of analysis of the vampire chronicles that reads vampirism as a metaphor for queerness. But I would actually propose that it’s a much neater parallel for disability and illness in a lot of ways. So many of Louis’s initial experiences after being turned resonated with me, as someone who became chronically ill in my 20s. My appetite and relationship to food completely changed, much like Louis. My relationship with the outdoors and the sun changed, because of dysautonomia and allergy reasons. I was very mad, and very depressed, and I too have missed out on birthday parties and big life events like Louis did because I was too sick to go. Hell, you can even say that the way that Louis is treated as evil by his family, that the way vampires literally can’t be a part of society during the day, is reminiscent of ableist exclusion and ugly laws. (Ugly laws were laws that forbid disabled people, especially those with visible differences, from being out in public, and they were on the books in many American municipalities until the 1970s.) You can look at Lestat being an out and proud vampire in the first few episodes on the season and imploring Louis to leave his shame behind as a queer thing, but you can also view it as a disabled thing. Disabled people are portrayed as monstrous so often (and in a way that has gone relatively unexamined compared to say, the queer coded villain trope) that sometimes it’s just easier to embrace that label: I’m the monstrous Crip, but at least I’m not ashamed of or disgusted by who I am anymore.

I do think the real strength of this adaptation is that while you can find parallels between queerness or disability or other forms of marginalization with vampirism, ultimately it’s not a one-to-one parallel. It speaks to the real world but ultimately it is a gothic horror story about supernatural monsters. So I don’t mean to say that vampirism directly equals disability, because it does not. But I do think that making Daniel disabled was an intentional choice to help draw out some of those parallels, and I think the text is richer for it.

So Louis and Daniel have had these kind of parallel experiences of uncontrollable and difficult things happening to their bodies. It sets them up perfectly as foils, and even, I would argue, as the A plot and B Plot protagonists. This is one of my favorite ways of kind of examining the structure of a TV show (or maybe it’s that most of my favorite shows seem to be structured this way?). When TV was all episodic, it would be common to refer to the A plot (mystery of the week), B plot (interpersonal drama happening as the mystery gets solved) and C plot (any overarching plot tying the season together) in an episode. Now that stuff is serialized, there’s often a main protagonist, who has the main dramatic question and the most agency, and then there is often a secondary B plot that explores similar themes and mirrors the A plot, or presents a second main character who is the ldifferent side of the same coin” to the main protagonist. (My favorite example of this is Flint and Max in Black Sails, and I’ve also made the argument that Wilhelm and Sara fit this pattern in Young Royals.) In IwtV, Louis is obviously the main protagonist of the show, especially in the A Plot, which is the stuff taking place in New Orleans/Paris. But I would argue that Daniel is the protagonist of the B Plot set in Dubai. At the very least they’re intentionally set up as mirrors of each other:

They are both unreliable narrators, who are struggling with the way memory contorts (through memory erasure, illness, deliberate obfuscations, and just the passage of time). The most recent teaser trailer, where we hear Louis saying “I don’t remember that”, with panic in his voice, further underlined this similarity between Louis and Daniel to me. I don’t know if it means that Louis has also had his memory tampered with, as I’m assuming Daniel has, but I do think it means that Louis is going to be struggling with feeling out of control of his own narrative more in season 2, a thing that was already starting for Daniel in season 1.

They are also both locked into power struggles with people more powerful than they are. The fact that Louis is under Lestat in the flashbacks and above Daniel in the Dubai scenes in terms of power/status makes it all the more interesting. And, if we want to go ahead and assume that the Devils Minion’s years have happened in the past by the time we get to Dubai— it’s possible that both Daniel and Louis are united in being the less powerful partner in their own respective fucked up gothic romances.

They’re also both the audience’s entry point into their respective stories. Louis’s narration guides us into the world of vampires. Daniel’s questioning satisfies our human curiosity in Dubai.

I think one of the things that makes the show so special is the way that these two protagonists interact. In a lot of shows the a plot and the b plot stay pretty separate. I love talking about Black Sails for this because I think it’s such a good example; Flint and Max never exchange dialogue the entire show, even though they’re so clearly affecting each other the whole time. But the way that Louis and Daniel clash in Dubai is so exciting. We see them both wrestling for control of the narrative. It’s thrilling to watch and it just hammers home the theme of how complicated and changeable stories can be.

I am SO excited to see how the Dubai scenes play out in season 2 because of it. I really can’t wait. I’m really hoping we’ll see Daniel and Louis’s relationship evolve in surprising ways, and I’m holding my breath that we’ll get a lot of Armandaniel material to work with. (I have a whole other post drafted that’s much less smart than this one and is just me waxing poetic about Devil Minion’s theories which I may post at some point. You have been warned.)

I do have two wishes for Daniel in the new season, and they’re 1: that he gets to have romance/sex, because disabled (and older!) characters are so often seen as unworthy of being desired, and I would like to see that challenged and 2: that he continues to refuse to be turned/is not offered a vampiric cure for Parkinson’s. The magic cure for a disability or chronic illness is probably my least favorite disability trope, because it serves to erase disabled characters and representation from the narrative, and I want to see my experiences continue to be reflected in Daniel’s. That means that whatever ending Daniel’s story has will probably have at least a bit of tragedy baked into it, but I’m ok with that.

[mattitties]

Boyfriend, pt 3 - matt sturniolo

smutty smut smut!

part 1 part 2

“How was the date?” my roommate asks as I go into her room.

All I can do is smile. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this happy in my life. “I love him,” I say.

She rolls her eyes. “Oh jesus. Okay, come sit, tell me everything.” 

I sit on her bed and recount the whole night, from him picking me up at the door, to listening to Taylor Swift with me, to me never feeling a moment of awkwardness, and finally, to him kissing me outside the apartment. “Maybe it’s because I’ve never had a boyfriend so any ounce of actual romantic attention is a dream come true but I genuinely think he’s perfect for me,” I tell her.

“He does sound pretty perfect for you…”

“See!”

“But slow ya roll! Take it easy, just don’t rush into anything.” I nod in agreement. I know that there’s still so much to learn about him, but I just feel like I already trust him with my life. It takes me a long time to feel truly comfortable with anyone, but there’s just something about him that makes me feel like I’ve known him forever.

I wake up the next morning later than usual, and to my surprise, I already have a text from him. 

Good morning! I had a lot of fun last night :) 

I’m about to respond when another text comes through.

Would u wanna grab lunch today? I can pick u up again

I smile to myself and start typing.

good morning!! i had fun too, and i would love to get lunch! what time?

I can get you around 2?

sounds good see you then 😁

I look at the time and panic when I see it’s already 12:30. How the fuck did I sleep so late? I get ready and before I know it, it’s 1:55 and he’s texted me that he’s here. I have to applaud his punctuality, it’s hot as fuck knowing that he actually cares enough to be somewhere on time. God, I really need to raise my standards.

I head downstairs and he’s in the same spot by the door, smiling shyly when he sees me. His fashion sense is immaculate: today he’s wearing black cargo jeans, a black T-shirt, and a white long sleeve underneath. I’m disappointed that he’s not showing off his sleeve of tattoos like last night, but I still can’t stop staring at him. 

“Hi,” he smiles, giving me a hug. He smells good, like warm vanilla, and his hug is the most comforting thing in the world at this moment. 

“How’ve you been in the last… 12 hours since I saw you?” I ask as we head to the car.

“Oh you know, just been sitting at home twiddling my thumbs until I could see you again. We’re at a three day streak now!” he tells me as he opens the door for me. 

I laugh and can’t take my eyes off of him as he makes his way to the driver’s side. “Why’d you wear a long sleeve today? I miss your tattoos,” I fake pout and play with his sleeve.

“Ohhh, you can see those whenever you want, don’t you worry.” 

God, he makes me fucking crazy. We start driving, talking about mindless things, and end up at a little diner not too far from my apartment.

“My brothers and I go here all the time, their food is so good,” he tells me as we go inside.

Once we’re seated and have ordered our food, our conversation flows just the same as it did last night, except today we’re talking about stuff that it usually takes me at least a few weeks of knowing someone before I share about. I tell him about my family, he tells me about his and how he’s never been away from his brothers for more than 24 hours, while I tell him that my brothers and I are more like acquaintances and I only ever talk to them about surface level stuff. 

“I couldn’t imagine,” he says. “Nick and Chris are like my safety nets. To be honest, tonight and today are the first time I’ve actually gone out to a restaurant without at least one of them in like… 3 years.”

“Really? I actually don’t mind doing stuff alone. I know people hate going out to eat by themselves, but I think I just grew up so independent that I’m comfortable with it. Like, my favorite thing ever is going to the movies, but if I don’t have anyone to go with I’ll just go by myself. I find it peaceful,” I tell him. 

“I love going to the movies too, but I could never go by myself. That sounds fucking terrifying,” he says, laughing a bit as he talks. 

“I get it,” I say. “Well, would you ever want to go to a movie together? It’s not alone and we both like it, so…”

He smiles. “I would love to. But if you talk in there, I’m out. We’re done. No movie talkers in my presence.”

I shake my head very seriously. “Oh no, absolutely not. Trust me, you won’t hear a peep.”

By the time we finish lunch, it’s only 3:45, and neither of us are ready to go home yet. 

He turns to me when we get in the car. “What do you think about that movie right now? I have nothing else going on the rest of the day.”

We arrive at the theater and just pick a movie at random. Neither of us have any real interest in seeing any of the ones they’re showing, but it gives us something to do together. We’re pleasantly surprised when we walk into an empty theater, so we take our seats and make fun of the trailers until the movie starts. 

About 30 minutes in, I realize that I have no idea what’s happening in the movie. I’ve been glancing at Matt the whole time, trying to pretend like I don’t see him glancing at me too. I can tell that he wants to hold my hand, wrap his arm around me, just touch me in some way, and I want to just scream at him to do something. It’s all I can think about. I shift up a little in my seat and look at him slightly. He looks at me. Without saying a word, we both know what the other wants.

He takes my cheek softly in his hand and kisses me. I immediately fall into it, our lips moving together effortlessly, our tongues colliding. But I want more. I need more. 

“Matt,” I say between kisses. “Can we go back to my place?”

“But the movie isn’t over yet,” he breathes into my mouth.

I pull back slightly and look at him with the same eyes I gave him two nights ago. “Matt. My place. Please?”

His eyes widen. “Oh. Oh.” 

I nod and giggle as he grabs my hand and rushes me out of there and back to his car like his life depends on it. Luckily the movie theater is about 5 minutes away from my apartment, and even more luckily my roommate is at work. The tension in the car ride home and in the elevator is so thick I can hardly breathe. As soon as we open the door to my room, his hands are all over me. We’re kissing messier than before; our teeth are clashing, our tongues fighting one another. He walks us towards my bed, dipping his head so his mouth reaches my neck as he begins to kiss, nip, and suck. 

“Matt,” I whine.

“Hmmm,” he hums in response, sucking a spot right under my ear. I begin to play with the bottom of his shirt, signaling that I want it off. He smirks and unlatches himself from my neck just long enough to pull it off his body before going back to what he was doing.

“God you’re so hot,” I half whisper as my hands run down from his chest to his happy trail. I grab his face in my hands and kiss him hard, then sit down on the bed and look up at him. 

“What do you wanna do?” he teases, knowing exactly what I want. I pull my shirt off, leaving me in a black lace bra, and begin to undo his jeans as he stares down at me. 

“Is this okay?” I ask, pulling his zipper down painfully slow.

“Mhm. Yeah, no it’s, um, it’s good,” he says, clearly flustered by what’s happening. And I can’t get enough.

I pull his jeans down and almost drool over his black briefs. I look up at him again for a moment, then palm over his bulge, earning a low groan from him.

“Fuck,” he mumbles as I tear his briefs down as well, and I need to control my face when I see his dick.

It’s not huge, probably about 6 inches, but it’s genuinely perfect. I never thought I’d say that about a dick, but no, it is perfect. 

He inhales sharply as I wrap my hand around the tip and begin to work him, my thumb running over his slit every so often. I spit directly down on him as my hand moves down his shaft, and he groans again, pulling my hair into a loose ponytail. 

That’s my signal to wrap my lips around him and suck.

“Ohhhh, fuck,” he says, closing his eyes and tilting his head back for a moment before looking back down at me. My mouth takes him deeper and deeper with each suck, and his hips begin to buck toward me. 

He didn’t strike me as someone who would be very vocal during sex, but he’s consistently groaning and letting out soft curses.

After just a minute or two of this, he pulls my head off of him. 

“Lay down before I cum in your mouth,” he tells me as I move myself back towards the head of the bed and sit back on my elbows. He crawls over me, kissing my neck, chest, and stomach. “This is all I’ve been thinking about for the past 2 days. Can I take this off?” he asks, referring to my bra.

I nod. 

“Words, baby.”

“Please take it off,” I whine. He undoes the clasp and tosses it aside, taking a moment to stare before dipping his head back down and starting to suck on my left nipple. 

My breathing picks up as he starts to kiss lower and lower, not breaking eye contact when he removes my skirt and underwear at the same time.

He stares down at my dripping pussy, and although I’m extremely turned on and want nothing more than to fuck him right now, I’m reluctant to open my legs as the reality sets in of what’s happening.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, looking up at me with concern in his eyes.

“I just… haven’t done this in a while. I think I’m nervous,” I tell him quietly.

“I’ve got you, I swear. And if you wanna stop just tell me, okay?”

I nod. I can tell he’s being genuine; he’s not just telling me what I want to hear so he can fuck me. He really cares.

I watch as he opens my legs and hooks them over his shoulders. “You’re drippin for me, huh?” he asks, kissing my inner thighs.

“Mhm. I’ve wanted you so bad,” I barely even have time to finish my sentence before he’s putting his tongue inside my pussy. I gasp and grab his hair, my back arching which only makes him go deeper.

He moans repeatedly as he tongue fucks me, sending vibrations through my core. I’m a moaning mess, my heels are digging into his back, and it only gets worse as he brings his thumb to my clit and starts circling lightly. 

“Matt,” I’m on the verge of tears. “Fuck, don’t stop, please, oh my god— “

My orgasm rips through me with no warning, and I’m cumming on his tongue. He doesn’t give me any time to come down before he’s leaning over me, pushing my legs up so my knees are by my face. 

“Do you have condoms?” he asks, pushing my hair back.

I shake my head. “I’m on birth control. I’m clean, obviously.”

“So am I,” he says, running his leaking tip over my clit. 

I almost scream, I’m so sensitive. He looks so fucking good leaning over me. I grip his arm as he pushes into me. There’s a moment of pain as he fills me up, but it quickly turns to pleasure when he starts thrusting into me.

“Is this okay?” he asks, noticing my face and the tight grip I have on his arm.

“Yeah, just hurt for a second, but please keep going,” I breathe, pulling his head down for another kiss.

His thrusts get harder and faster with each passing minute. He fills me so perfectly, I never want this to end. I feel the coil tighten in my stomach yet again, and my moans get louder and needier.

“You gonna cum for me baby?” he taunts.

Baby. I clench around him and nod. “Uh huh.”

“Ohhh, good girl, keep squeezing my cock like that,” he groans. His thrusts are getting erratic, and his dick begins to twitch inside of me.

I chant his name like it’s the only word I know how to say as another orgasm hits me, and I’m squeezing him hard.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, ohhhhh fuck,” he groans as his own orgasm hits him, and I feel him release inside of me, his head collapsing into my neck.

We stay just like that for a few moments, him inside of me, us both half dead and breathing heavy, before he pulls out, picks me up bridal style, and sets me on the toilet.

“It’s peepee time!” he says excitedly while clapping his hands softly, causing me to crack up.

“You just fucked me and came inside of me and now you’re saying ‘it’s peepee time’? You’re such a freak,” I tell him.

After I finish, we take a quick shower to clean up, and I get unreasonably sad as he starts to get dressed.

I walk him to my front door and he kisses me again. “Let me know your work schedule this week. We’re going out again.”

“Okay, I will,” I smile and nod as I watch him leave.

I’m definitely falling for this guy. 

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

this was ridiculously long. i did not intend for that to happen. i really have no intentions of making this a full length series because i have other stories i wanna do and i have a few requests sitting in my inbox, so as the author i am telling you that they lived happily ever after yayyyyy

[goosewithtwoos]

SLUMBER PARTY

Pairing: Bob x Reader

Summary: Phoenix left some aphrodisiac brownies at your house - you accidentally eat one

DISCLAIMER: yeah i got no fwicking clue how aphrodisiacs work so this is more of a crack post than anything don’t take it too seriously

“You brought brownies!” You squeal, running up to hug your best friend.

Phoenix was carrying a small box of brownies that were perfectly decorated with powdered sugar. Your mouth was watering just looking at them.

“Hands off!” She cries, holding them over her head. “It’s a gift for someone. I’m going to a bachelorette party later.”

You pout. “Not even one?”

“Not even one.”

The two of you head inside, catching up on things and discussing plans for your next official leave. You were trying to schedule a trip with everyone down to Sanibel island off the coast of Florida but Hangman was being difficult and said the time he’d spent in Pensacola had been enough to last a lifetime.

You helped Phoenix get ready for the party, doing her makeup for her. Having grown up with four older brothers, Phoenix had never had time to play with makeup. You didn’t mind - in fact, you loved doing makeup for other people.

After about 45 minutes, a phone rang. Phoenix picks hers up only to find that it was your phone that was ringing.

You grab it off the vanity and check the caller ID.

Bob.

You show your phone to Phoenix who grins wildly. She’s known about your crush on her WSO ever since she had introduced you.

“Hello?” You ask tentatively. It was rare that he’d call you. Typically, he’d call someone else and ask them to ask you something.

“Hey, uh, sorry this is weird for me to call. I was just wondering -“

Your heart was beating out of your chest. You looked at Phoenix, silently pleading with her for help.

‘Put him on speaker’ She mouths. You quickly do so, holding your breath lest he notices the change.

“I have your credit card. You left it at the Hard Deck last night and Penny gave it to me. I was wondering when would be a good time to drop it off?”

‘Right now!’ Phoenix mouths.

‘Right now?’ You mouth back, looking at the state of your room and yourself in the mirror. She nods frantically, turning around and quickly reorganizing your things back into the drawers.

“Umm…well I’m home right now if you wanted to bring it over.” You hoped you came across at least slightly suave instead of a panicking mess.

“Oh!” Bob sounded caught off guard. “Yeah, I can do that. Do you want me to leave it in your mailbox?”

Phoenix whips her head around. ‘No!’

“No? I mean, no! I’ve uh…been having a lot of mail theft recently. You can never been too careful.”

Bob hummed. “Mail theft is a huge deal. You should report it. I remember my sister had a problem with that for a while too.”

Bless. his. heart.

“Yeah…” Your voice died off, trying to figure out if this actually was real life or simply some dream. Bob was coming over. Your heart fluttered at the idea. “So! Um, when should I expect you?”

“Maybe like 30 minutes? I just left the PX and rush hour is kinda crazy at this time of day.”

Phoenix was grinning wickedly. She gave you two thumbs up and the look in her eyes told you that maybe this wasn’t a terrible idea.

You made a noise of agreeance in the back of your throat. “Sounds perfect.”

The next 30 minutes of your life we’re some of the most stress inducing you’d ever faced. You wanted everything to be perfect. Phoenix had high tailed it out of there, nearly forgetting her purse, and you sped cleaned the whole house like the president was coming to visit.

Sure, he was probably just going to come to the door, drop off your card, and leave but the small glimmer of hope you held made you clean. Maybe this time you’d actually have the balls to ask him to come inside.

A soft knock at your door announced his arrival. You scrambled from the couch, brushing down your shirt and fixing your hair before answering the door.

“Hey!” He choked out, taking in your figure. Your flight suit was pretty conservative along with you cammies. It was a rare occasion for him to see you in your civilian clothes. “This is for you.”

You took the card from him, careful to not accidentally brush his hand with yours.

“Thank you so much, I don’t know how I could have forgotten this.” You quickly shove the card into your back pocket for safe keeping.

He quickly shoved his hands in his front pocket and shrugged. “Happens to the best of us.”

You nodded, unsure of what to say and didn’t trust yourself to not randomly blurt out an ‘I love you’, so you settled for an awkward silence.

After you both had stared at each other for far too long, he gave you a quick nod and started to pivot away. “Well, guess I’ll see you back at in on Monday.”

Damn it, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. You were supposed to invite him in and talk and maybe watch a movie and hold hands a little. Not have him walk away after less than a minute on your doorstep.

“Do you wanna come in?” You blurt out, surprising not only him but also yourself. “I have to give you something as an appreciation. I probably have a beer or something.” Fucking dumbass.

He turned back towards you, removing his hands from his pockets.

“I won’t take a beer but I will take a water.”

You stepped out of the doorframe allowing room for him to enter. “I do in fact also have water.”

He entered and then followed as you walked to the kitchen. It was small but good enough to make borderline decent meals. You weren’t much of a chef anyways and ate at the chow hall more than you’d care to admit.

“Do you want ice and a glass or just a bottle?” You ask, turning to the cupboard.

“Just a glass, no ice.” He said, taking in your decor.

This wasn’t a permanent lodging, just for the time you’re stationed here, but you still liked to decorate a little bit. Felt more like something you could call home.

You poured a glass and handed it to him, brushing his fingers as you did.

Your heart picked up from the slight touch and you cursed yourself for being such a child. You were a Naval aviator, you should be able to touch someone without having your mind go completely blank. Yet alas. Your mind was gone the moment his fingers touched yours.

He took a sip, then motioned with his chin to a tupperware sitting on the counter. “You just make those?”

You tilted your head, confused on how the hell a tupperware ended up on your counter. You went to inspect it only to find they were the brownies Phoenix had brought over for the bachelorette party. She must have forgotten them in her hurry to leave.

“Uh, these actually aren’t even mine.” You admit, wondering if it would be worth calling her back for them or not. She’d probably already be there by now. Guess if she really wanted them she would have called and asked. “Phoenix made them. She stopped by earlier and I guess she left them.”

His shoulders slumped a little bit at the news.

“But it doesn’t seem like she’s gonna come back for them any time soon and it would be a real shame to waste them.” You quickly follow up. The look on his face was worth it. You didn’t really want a brownie but you knew he wouldn’t eat one if you didn’t.

You pulled two paper towels and grabbed a brownie for the both of you, handing one to him and smelling yours. God, it smelled so good. Were these really made by Phoenix? They smelled like they were made by chocolatiers from some fancy Paris bakery.

“To Bob, for returning my card.” You said as a mock toast. He raised his brownie in turn before you took a bite in tandem.

Holy shit - they tasted even better than they smelled.

You quickly finished yours before grabbing a glass of water for yourself.

Bob stayed for a while, chatting in your kitchen about everything and anything. The conversation was completely normal so it was surprising when you felt the intense need to get off.

Your heart rate picked up rapidly and you could feel yourself getting wetter by the second. Your replies slowly turned from interesting, full and comprehensive sentences, to a mix of ‘mhm’ and ‘oh yeah’. God, why couldn’t you get control of yourself?

“Do you wanna go sit down?” You gasp out, fingers gripping the cup for dear life.

“Yeah, good idea.” Bob was looking much more pale than usual but you chocked that up to your terrible lighting and white countertops.

The two of you sat in the living area, a far enough distance from each other on the couch to make it awkward. You pulled your knees to your chest, hoping that the squeezing of your thighs would be able to help alleviate some of the feeling.

What was happening? You typically had self control but this was excessive. God, you needed a cold shower.

“So - uh - how’s your sister?” You also, trying to think of the least sexy topic.

“Good.” His reply was short and quick. His chest was heaving slightly, looking like he had just run a mile. Was he feeling the same thing you were? His composure seemed to be dissolving just like yours. “Sorry, I’m just a little bit warm. Do you mind if I take this off?” He gestured to his sweater, lightly tugging at the bottom.

You screamed internally. “Of course.” Fuck, once he mentioned heat, your whole body exploded and you needed to take a polar plunge.

Even once his sweater was off, he kept readjusting.

“I’ll turn a fan on.” The moment you stood, you knew something was really wrong. Your legs were like jello. Your heart was racing as your body ached with desperation.

The fan did little to help you cool off and the feeling was simply just getting worse. You had been talking about something, taxes maybe? Something that should have been a complete turn off but Bob was looking at you like he wanted to ravish you.

Your voice trailed off when you realized he wasn’t even paying attention to what you were saying and you couldn’t even remember where your sentence had died off.

“I’m so sorry, I promise I’m trying to listen, I don’t…” He was audibly panting, adjusting his collar. “Fuck, can I kiss you?”

The heat between your thighs was like nothing you’d ever felt before. “Mhm.” You manage to nod, trying desperately to not go insane. You needed his hands on you, like, yesterday.

In an instant, he pulled you into a lip bruising kiss, bucking his hips the moment you straddled him. He was so hard already, you were surprised by how needy he was before anything had even happened.

You kissed like the world was going to end. Like you needed each other like some sort of drug.

His hands found your waist, massaging your sides. You couldn’t help but grind your hips down on his, relishing the sounds he made. When his fingers slipped under your shirt, cold hands touching your warm skin, you gasped into his mouth.

“I need you so bad.” He whined.

“Say it again.” The pounding in your chest increased rapidly at his admission.

“I - I need you. Oh my God.” He cried as you bit down on the soft spot beneath his ear. “You can’t keep doing that.”

You smirk, dragging your tongue along the sensitive spot. “This?”

His whole body shook as he pulled you down tighter against him. “Y-yeah, that.” You couldn’t tell if the movement of your hips was your doing or his strong hands, pushing and pulling you back and forth.

“Can I take your shirt off?” He begs.

“God, yes, please.” You reply. His hands quickly pulled your t-shirt up and over, throwing it somewhere across the room.

Seeing your chest turned him feral. In an instant, his eyes darkened and all inhibition was gone.

“Jesus Christ.” He mutters, cupping your chest through your bra and squeezing. “I could die in between these.”

“Fuck me first.” You pant. You felt like your whole body was on fire. You needed friction, for him to touch you, anything.

He leaned forward and licked from the center of your chest slowly up your neck. You’d never had anyone else do anything like that but it was hot all the same. A strong hand lightly gripped your throat, pressing down enough to feel something but not enough to cut off any blood flow.

“God, you’re gorgeous. Could keep you on my lap forever.” He growls.

Something about the possessiveness made your mind short circuit.

“Robert.” You moan, pressing yourself down again. Every nerve was on fire. You were on fire. You were going to burn and you were going to burn with him.

“I got you, honey.” His southern drawl slowly making its way into his speech. You’d always been interested in saving a horse and riding a cowboy, and now seemed like a good time to try it.

You smashed your mouths back together and began pawing at the bottom of his shirt. You wanted it off but you didn’t want to peel yourself away from him.

He made quick work of the buttons on your shorts, pulling down the zipper and pressing two fingers against you. It felt so good - too good - and you needed him now.

"Please, please, please." You were begging a man, and you couldn't care less.

“I got you baby, you don’t need to beg. I’ll give it to you. Fuck, gonna give it to you so good.” His fingers were inside you, working you open, thumb pressing against your clit.

You threw your head back, groaning in agony and pleasure as he presses against your g-spot.

“Gorgeous, so fucking gorgeous,” he mumbles more to himself than anyone else. You were riding his fingers like a pro, swiveling your hips and grinding down like you’d done it a hundred times before.

“I need…I need you in me.” You moan out.

“I am in you.” He teases, biting down on your shoulder.

This cocky little son of a - “Robert Jameson Floyd.” You whine again. You’d never been reduced to whining and begging before but suddenly, it was the only thing you could do.

He groans when you call him by his full name. His fingers pull out, tapping your folds a few times before being pulled from your shorts completely. He lifts them and - damn him - sticks them into his mouth, acting as if it was the most delicious thing he’d had all week. “You need to take these off.”

Brilliant idea.

You stand, quickly removing your shorts and panties in a fluid move. He unbuckles his jeans and pushes them down. His boxers came off almost immediately afterwards and your eyes went wide.

You’d known he was pretty. Hell, he was probably the prettiest man you’d ever seen, but you didn’t realize that every inch of him was going to be pretty. And big.

You swallow, eyes flicking up to meet his. He was panting, looking at you and you realized you didn’t feel self conscious at all. You felt good, safe, and sexy. You’d probably ask to marry him if he could fuck you as good as he was saying he could.

“How’d you want this?” He asks.

“You’re from Texas, right?” You ask and he nods. “I’ve always been interested in saving horses.”

He throws his head back, laughing. “If it weren’t you standing naked in front of me right now, I’d be getting up and leaving. That was the worst thing I’ve ever heard. Get over here.”

You suppress a laugh, sitting back down on his lap, feeling him hard as a rock underneath you. "Your shirts coming off." You say, pulling at it.

He removes his glasses, shaking his head lightly, tousling his hair even more than your hands had. With or without his glasses, he made it hard to breathe. When he removes his shirt, you were sure he'd knocked the wind out of you entirely.

Your mind couldn't think of anything to say so you opted for leaning down and capturing him into another kiss. His large hands wrap around your side, kneading the flesh beneath. You had began rocking your hips back and forth without even realizing it until his hand stopped you.

"I want to get inside you before I come from just this." He admits, resting his forehead against yours.

You nod, still unable to form coherent thoughts. "Yeah, yeah that's a good idea."

You lift your hips as he lines himself up. Much to your pleasure, he didn't force you down and allowed for you to go at your own pace. It had been a while and you were tight. He hisses through his teeth as you sink down.

"Fit inside me so good." You tell him. He throws his head back, letting out a low moan. You were glad he wasn't the type of man who tried to silence himself. He sounded so beautiful. "Could stay here forever."

"Fuck me first." He says, bucking his hips ever so slightly, echoing your words from earlier.

Who were you to decline such a polite request?

You lift yourself up, enjoying how his eyes immediately snap down to watch where you're connected. The grip on your hips tightens as you go back down.

It felt like your senses were heightened. Every inch of him was sending flames through you. Your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest and Bob looked no better.

He was watching intensely as you moved, mouth ajar. You press your hands against his chest and lean forward ever so slightly. The change of angles makes you see stars.

"Oh my God." You cry out. He felt impossibly deep and so, so good.

"Feels better than I ever thought possible." He groans. "Just like you were made for me."

"Thought about this before?" You tease, spelling your name with your hips. What size ring was he?

Bob's hand leaves your waist and trails down to your clit. "Often." With a light pinch, you're doubling over, crying out with a mix of broken moans and his name.

"You're gonna make me come fast if you keep doing that." You warn him. As much as you wanted to come, the thought of this being over made you want to hold off as long as possible.

He pinches again. "I'm no better, darlin. Come whenever, I'll be right behind you." The feeling of him inside you was making you crazy. You were losing your mind and felt entirely content with it. "Fuck, keep doing that."

Your orgasm was rapidly approaching. You'd never come this quickly before and it would be embarrassing if Bob weren't so stunningly handsome and crying out just as much as you were. Sweat was beading on his forehead, causing his baby hairs to stick down.

You run your hand across his head, moving both the hairs and his head back. He looks at you, all fucked out, and the sight alone is perfect shower head masturbation material for the next few months.

"You're so beautiful." He says, his eyes glazed over, like he couldn't believe that you were real. "Can't believe this is real."

You moan in agreeance. This was beyond your wildest dreams. You would have never imagined this as a possible scenario for how the day would go. Part of you began to worry this was all a dream and you'd wake up to find your credit card was in your wallet the whole time.

He shifted and your world exploded. He was deeper than you ever thought possible. God, it felt so good. So, so good. Too good.

"Robert, I'm gonna come." You cry out, gripping his shoulders like a vice. His lips wrap around your chest, sucking and biting down, the harsh breath feeling like Heaven and Hell all at the same time, before he roughly pulls back.

"You gotta get up before I come inside you." He warns, the grip on your hips loosening.

You force your hips back down, tightening your thighs around him. "I'm on the pill, I wanna feel you. Give it to me, please?" You asked it so innocently but your words were filthy.

"Yeah?" He breathes out. "Want me to come inside you? Fill you up?" You clench around him. "You like that, huh? Like the idea of me marking you as mine. Tell me you want it."

"I want it, I want it." You chant. "Please give it to me. Need to feel you inside me."

He takes your other breast into his mouth, bouncing you with more urgency. "Gonna fill you up so good." You hear him mumble around you.

He pinches your clit and you're a goner. Your orgasm rips through you and you're coming harder than you've come before around him. You can tell you're saying something but your mind is so blank, you're not quite sure what it is.

"Holy fuck." He moans, hips stilling as you feel him come inside you.

You're both panting, resting foreheads against each other. You can feel him spilling out but make no effort to move. This was something you'd want to savor for as long as you lived. A size 10 ring would probably fit him nicely.

He presses a kiss to your cheek. His hands pull your hair from your face back into a makeshift pony tail from where it had been sticking to your neck with sweat before letting it fall. "You're amazing."

You laugh lightly, never having been told that after getting absolutely railed before. "I think that belongs to you. I've never had someone make me come that quickly before."

"Same." He agrees. He finds his glasses, putting them on and blinking rapidly to readjust his vision. "A goddess, for sure."

You laugh and swat at his chest. "A cowboy, for sure." He groans, rolling his head back.

“Oh, who the fuck is calling me right now?” You breathed out as your phone began ringing, pulling you from your lovely little bubble. Your heart dropped when you saw who it was. It was Phoenix. You didn't get off him, simply grabbing your phone from the table and answering “Hello?”

“Hey girl, I’m so sorry I just realized I left the brownies at your place! Don’t eat them okay? They’re for a prank.” Her voice was rushed as she got out every word.

“What do you mean ‘they’re for a prank’?”

“They’re aphrodisiac.”

Ah.

[steddiealltheway]

Eddie really tries to graduate this time. And he means really. He asks the whole party for their help, and the kids reluctantly agree that although they’re smart, they’re not that far ahead.

But they find a clear solution: Nancy.

And she tries everything. Flashcards. Acronyms. Word association. Practice quizzes. Textbook problems…

A few hours in, she gives Eddie a tight smile and says, “Maybe you need a break.” She immediately heads down to the basement where everyone else is hanging out.

Eddie sighs because that’s definitely code for Nancy needs a break from him and his multiple failed practice quizzes. He doesn’t stand a chance.

He hears the stairs creak as someone makes their way up. Steve’s head pops around the corner. “How’s it going?”

“Did Nancy send you up here?” Eddie asks.

Steve makes his way to the table and sits next to Eddie while saying, “No, but I did notice the look on her face. She used to try to tutor me, too.”

“How’d that work out for you?” Eddie asks genuinely curious.

“I got a girlfriend and an F,” Steve answers, digging though the papers spread all over the table. He picks up a stack of flashcards and smiles. “Ahh, the infamous Nancy Wheeler flashcards. Color coded by difficulty.”

Eddie fidgets with his rings and bites out, “If that was the case, they should all be the same color. I don’t know, man. I just don’t care. Information in one ear out the other.”

Steve nods in agreement and pauses in thought - if the furrowed brow is any indication. “What do you care about?” Steve asks.

Eddie shrugs, at a loss as to what Steve is asking.

“Dungeons and dragons!” Steve exclaims and throws his arms up as if it’s the answer to all of Eddie’s problems.

“Yeah, I’m not following.”

Steve stands up and starts going through the pile of notes. “This is all for history, right?”

Eddie nods.

“Perfect. All you have to do is treat it like a campaign.”

Eddie’s head spins as he takes in Steve’s idea that actually clicks in his head. He also can’t help but wonder how many times Dustin has ranted to Steve about D&D for him to call it a campaign instead of a “game” like most people do.

“Steve, you’re a genius.”

Steve shrugs. “I’m not sure if you can say that about someone who couldn’t get into college.”

Eddie squeezes Steve’s arm and comments, “At least you graduated high school.”

“I wouldn’t have if I didn’t have the Harrington family name with their yearly donations to Hawkins High,” Steve confesses. He shakes his head and taps the table once before wishing Eddie good luck and making his way back down the stairs.

Eddie gets to work on the abridged version of a campaign.

A week passes before Eddie gets his test score back. He takes a deep breath and glances at the top of the packet.

An A. Eddie Munson got an A.

He also got a note under it that says, “Meet me after class.” Fuck.

After class, the teacher tries to imply that Eddie somehow cheated until he pulls out the pages of planning and notes he had taken in preparation for the test. The teacher easily dismisses him without an apology… bitch.

When Eddie sees the kids at lunch, he immediately shows them the test. It only stings slightly when everyone thinks he’s joking, but the satisfaction of proving them wrong is way more fulfilling.

After school, Eddie immediately finds Steve working at the Family Video.

“Steve Harrington, I could kiss you right now!” Eddie announces to the thankfully empty store. He slams the test down on the counter and beams.

It takes Steve a moment, but then he realizes what Eddie is showing him. “Dude!” Steve yells and scales the counter. “Dude!” He grabs Eddie’s arms excitedly and begins jumping up and down. Eddie joins in.

It’s absolutely childish, and Eddie loves every second of it.

They calm down for a few moments, catching their breath. Then, Steve catches sight of the test again and excitedly yells, “I could also kiss you right now!”

Eddie smiles and easily flirts, “You could.”

And Steve does. Right there in the middle of the Family Video store.

When the two pull away Eddie jokes, “Is this what I get every time I get an A?”

Steve laughs. “If you want it to be.”

Eddie smiles and says, “I’ll hold you to it.”

That semester, Eddie has to convince a lot of teachers that he isn’t cheating before he graduates.

[celtic-crossbow]

So Hear My Voice Remind You Not to Bleed

Pairing: Daryl Dixon and Fem!Reader (pre-relationship)

Setting: Alexandria

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; Injuries; angst

Summary: You're injured and benched, unable to go with Daryl on runs. When someone else is brought in to take your place, it does not go well.

A/N: for @darylsgarden. I had mixed feelings about this and had a couple of wonderful friends ( thank you @shadowcitrine and @enlightndone!🩵) read it and help me out. I hope it's at least close to what you were looking for 🩵

“It doesn’t even hurt.”

“Uh huh.” Daryl stopped preparing his bag and stepped across the living room, beckoning you with a wave of his hand. “Then walk over here without limpin’.” You narrowed your eyes and pushed yourself up off the couch, setting your jaw. 

You didn’t even make it a single step before falling forward with a choked off shout. 

And, of course, he was there to catch you as you crumbled. 

“Thought so.” He said with a hint of a smirk, depositing you back onto the couch. “Doc said ya gotta stay off’a it a couple’a weeks an’ that’s whatcha gonna do.” You whined and flopped around like a fish out of water. “Stop.” He chuckled, grabbing his bag. “Got paired up with someone who just got here ‘til ya get better.”

You stilled, brow creasing. “You got a new partner. Who said? Rick?”

Daryl continued to shoulder his bag, then his crossbow. “Deanna.” Why would Deanna step in? “Said she needs to see what the woman can do to help. She’s s’posed to be good with a bow but I dunno.”

Woman? Bow? You already didn’t like this suggestion. “Oh.” It was all you could think of to say. You didn’t want him to go before when you thought he was going out alone. Now that you knew he was going with a strange woman, you really didn’t want him to go. But why? Daryl was your best friend. You didn’t have any say in his comings and goings, and why should you? 

A knock on your door startled you out of your thoughts, Daryl watching you with a flat expression. 

“Guess that’s her. See ya.” He started toward the door, and you found yourself leaning nearly off the couch to see who was on the other side. When he opened it, your breath caught. 

Her long blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail, a bow and quiver somehow anchored to her back. She was almost as tall as Daryl, lean and curvy in all the right places. Shit. She was gorgeous. 

“Uh, bye.” You muttered. Daryl didn’t even regard you. Maybe he hadn’t heard. Or maybe he was too busy ogling the beautiful woman in front of him. You couldn’t tell from his position. What you could see was the woman giving your run partner an appreciative once over before smiling. 

“Hey! You must be Daryl. I’m Angie.” She held out a hand, which the archer ignored with a grunt, pushing his way past her to walk to his bike. He was taking the bike? You sighed. You weren’t supposed to care. Daryl was your friend. Not your—he was your friend. 

And you just kept telling yourself that. 

Even a week later, when you were able to be up and about but not without difficulty, things felt—different. Daryl was always gone with Angie, like he was at that very moment. Now that you could actually move, you went about slowly cleaning up the house the two of you shared and started making something for dinner. You could leave Daryl’s in the oven for him to eat later. 

You had just finished your own when you heard the roar of the bike, saw the headlights illuminate the walls inside the dining room window, sending the shadows scattering. You found yourself excited to see him, to show him you were mobile. Hobbling over to the window, you felt silly for the ridiculous smile splitting your face but you didn’t feel that way for long. 

Angie was standing in front of Daryl at the bike, her bow in her hand at her side. He had already unlatched his crossbow from the back of the bike and had it across his back. She was smiling brightly with her perfect teeth and small creases next to her bright blue eyes, looking every bit like a model in the middle of the apocalypse. And Daryl—his lips were turned up on one side, a very Daryl smile that he gave when he was relaxed and in a good mood. 

You had known the man since the quarry and it had taken months to earn that smile. Angie was getting it in less than a week? 

You should have turned away. Spying on them wasn’t right. Daryl wouldn’t be pleased if he caught you, no matter what he was doing. He never liked feeling as though he was being watched too closely. 

You should have turned away but you didn’t. 

And then you wished you had. 

Angie reached out as she spoke, her words muffled and distorted through the glass. Her long, slender fingers wrapped around his bicep and squeezed, her thumb stroking the skin there. Daryl glanced at her hand but that was it. He didn’t ask her to remove it, didn’t step back to increase the distance between them. 

You didn’t want to admit that you were jealous. Even as your mind and heart both screamed only I can touch him that way—for two entirely different reasons—you refused to grant it a name. 

You couldn’t take anymore, limped away from the window and climbed the stairs with more than a few whimpers of pain. Daryl would usually help you to your room at night and back down in the mornings. But you didn’t want to see him, felt an anger toward him that was just as confusing as it was unjustified. You felt the same anger toward Angie, a woman you knew nothing about beyond the things Daryl would tell you. 

And he didn’t tell you a lot. 

You still should have been happy that Daryl both wanted to share something with you and that he had found someone that seemed to make him happy enough to gab about them, limited as it was. 

But you weren’t happy. 

It hurt. You hurt. Your heart felt constricted, wrapped in a cord that would tighten with each breath, faster and faster with each moment you spent thinking of him just outside, smiling at her. 

She didn’t deserve his smile. 

She hadn’t been there when Merle was left behind in Atlanta. She hadn’t been there when Sophia went missing and Daryl ran himself ragged trying to find her. She wasn’t the one to care for him after he’d fallen and was shot. She hadn’t been the one whose arms he’d finally chosen to let hold him when Merle died. She hadn’t run to him and felt his relief at being reunited after Terminus. She hadn’t walked along with him and coaxed him to drink just enough water to stay alive on the road. And she damn sure hadn’t stood up and told everyone he needed his own place in Alexandria so he wouldn’t feel more trapped than the gates already made him feel. 

That had been you. Always you. 

The door opened and closed downstairs, your name being called. You could hear the concern, knew it would be there at not finding you downstairs. You shimmied out of your jeans and climbed into bed—your back to the door—and just listened. Daryl methodically looked around, his voice carrying from different rooms throughout his search. Your room would be last because it would be the last place he’d think of you being. Not without his help. 

The oven door opened and closed, too quickly for him to grab the food. He was checking to make sure you had been there. Likely spotted your used dishes as well. You barely heard his boots on the stairs. Daryl, for all his height and muscle, moved like a spirit. Still, you knew his gait, what to listen for that signaled his approach. 

You drew up the comforter just as the soft knock came and a quiet call of Y/N? that you decided to not answer. The light from downstairs was pale in your room, starting on the floor and soon bathing your bed and walls. He didn’t say anything, simply closed the door and descended the stairs just as quietly. 

And somehow, that’s what made the tears come. 

There were two days of tense air in the house before Daryl’s next run. Your ankle had improved but you were still unable to put weight on it. Denise advised you to stay off of it but you had waved her off with a yeah yeah, absolutely zero intention of heeding her advice. 

When you arrived at your home, Angie was already leaning against Daryl’s bike like she belonged there. The sight infuriated you. Your attempt to pass her by was quickly foiled by the woman herself, her hand coming up to tap a finger on your shoulder. 

“It’s Y/N, right?” 

Sighing, you turned, sitting your bad foot up on the toe of your boot to keep the pressure from taking you down. “Yeah.”

“I’ve been dying to meet you. Daryl’s told me a lot about you.”

“Funny. He hasn’t told me much about you.” She didn’t seem fazed. I’m glad he’s so chatty with you. “Nice to meet you.” You said in place of your inner monologue. “Excuse me.” You started to turn when she stood straight. 

“Hey, uh—I was just wondering. Are you and him a thing?” She flipped her hair—braided today—over her shoulder. 

“A thing?” You knew exactly what she meant, but feigned ignorance. It was not a conversation you wanted to have. 

“Yeah, you know—a couple.”

Closing your eyes, you inhaled through your nose and exhaled through your mouth. “No. Why?” You didn’t even realize you had clenched your fists until her eyes flitted down and back up, forcing you to relax lest she tell Daryl you were being hostile toward her. 

“No reason. He’s a great guy, isn’t he? Handsome too.” Now she was just trying to push your buttons. 

“Yeah. The best, actually.” Don’t cry, don’t cry, do not cry. “Don’t hurt him.” You said flatly—a clear warning—and limped your way up the steps and inside. 

“Where ya been?” Daryl’s voice greeted you before the door had even closed. He was on the couch, lacing up his boots. You regarded him silently for a moment, allowing Angie’s words to sink in before setting your jaw and squaring your shoulders.

“I’m going with you today.”

His hands stilled, frozen for a moment before he sat back a little and placed his forearms over his knees. Piercing blue eyes scanned over you before settling on your bum ankle, the urge to place your foot flat on the floor too intense to disregard. “Nah. Y’ain’t ready.”

“You don’t get to make that call.” You snapped, more harshly than you had intended, but it got your point across. His eyes narrowed, his own jaw tightening.

“Maybe not, but I do get to say who goes with me an’ it ain’t you. Not today.” The archer went back to his boots while you gaped at him, lacing the right one up before getting to his feet and grabbing his things.

“Why not? Because suddenly Angie is better than me?”

Daryl scoffed. “Stop.” He went for the door, opening it a couple of inches before your palm landed flat against the surface and shoved it closed. “The hell ya doin’?!”

“I won't stop.” You mocked, drawing your lips back in a snarl. “You’ve been up her ass since you met her. Hardly ever here and when you are, you don’t even talk to me.” 

“The fuck you on ‘bout? We go on runs, get the things people need. Ya forget food an’ meds ain’t just down at the convenience store anymore, Y/N?” He pulled the door open again, and again, you pushed it shut. “Let go.” His voice had dropped into that serious tone, the warning before the anger.

“No. I’m going with you. I’ll let you open this door when you agree to that.” You stood straighter, tucking your lip between your teeth to stave off the whimper when you dared place your weight on the healing ankle. Of course, Daryl and his hyper awareness caught it.

“Guess it ain’t openin’ cause y’ain’t goin’.” He tried once more with the same result, this time letting his burdens fall to the floor in order to face you, nearly nose to nose. “Alright, ya got my attention.” He growled. It had been so long since he had spoken to you with such enmity, you couldn’t suppress a jarring flinch. 

Swallowing hard, you attempted to control the wobbling of your bottom lip. “Please, take me with you.”

“How many times I gotta say no?! Y’need to take your ass to that couch an’ let your damn ankle heal ‘fore I even think ‘bout lettin’ back out there.”

“Daryl.”

“No, Y/N.”

With a deep breath through your nose, you stepped backward, freeing up the space. “Fine. But maybe you should stay with Carol for a while when you get back.” Giving him your back, you didn’t bother to hide the limp. 

“Y’don’t mean that.” 

You needed to force yourself to keep walking when you heard the dejection in his tone. “I do.” You didn’t. “I don’t need you here.” You did. 

“Y/N—”

“Angie’s waiting.” You detoured at the last second and veered into the kitchen, seeing him from the corner of your eye, his hand lowering as if he had been reaching for you. Your heart was beating in your ankle by the time you were leaning heavily against the countertop. 

When the door closed, the floodgates opened. 

Two days. Daryl and Angie had been gone for two days. It wasn’t anything new to be held up on a run, but there were always close calls involved and you couldn’t imagine Daryl battling his way through herds or humans without you at his side. The two of you predicted one another’s movements, flowing and fighting together like a well oiled machine, always ending up victorious and on your way home. 

Did he have that with her now? 

“You know it’s not like that with the two of them, right?” Carol looked up from beneath her lashes as she chopped up the herbs and available vegetables for the stew. You knew it was more of an admonishing statement and not entirely a question.

“I don’t know that and neither do you.” You replied bitterly before tipping your glass to your lips. Carol smiled, that suspicious grin like she knew something you didn’t. 

“I know Daryl.” She picked up the cutting board and used the knife to scrape the occupying ingredients into the pot. “Why does it bother you so much anyway?”

“He’s my best friend.” The answer came out a little too quickly.

The other woman chuckled. “Is that all?” 

“Yes.” You countered almost gibingly. She only spared you an arched brow before turning to place the pot on the stove. You decided to ignore the intensely foreign fluttering in your chest and began spinning the glass between your palms. “Do you think they’re okay?”

“I—”

The knock at the door was sudden and urgent, repeating after only a few heartbeats. Your questioning expression met Carol’s. Spinning on the island stool, you eyed the door until it was opened. Carol’s hand on the edge tightened until her knuckles were white, but you could only make out quiet words and someone’s heavy breaths. Hobbling from your perch, you grabbed the door and pulled it back further. 

Angie was a mess, covered in dirt and blood and walker innards. “Y/N.” She panted. 

Your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach. “Where’s Daryl?” You didn’t remember ducking beneath Carol’s arm or pushing past Angie. The pain in your ankle became a mere afterthought as you walked backwards toward the steps, awaiting information. 

“He’s in the infirmary. He’s asking for you.” 

You didn’t wait, running with only the slightest hitch in your step. Daryl was more important than any amount of discomfort. Your mind was running rampant with scenarios. What if he was bit? Dying? What if he died before you made it to him? The last thing you had said to him was that you didn’t need him. 

And it was such a lie. 

“Y/N, wait!”

You tried to ignore her, the infirmary within sight. You needed to get to him so that you could breathe again. 

When her hand caught your shoulder, you reacted almost violently, throwing her away from you and almost to the dirt. “What?!” You bellowed. “What could possibly be more important than Daryl right now?!”

“Lana is!” She answered quickly. “My Lana!” Breathing heavily, you shook your head and threw out your arms, a silent but gestured question. “My wife.”

You felt like the wind had been punched right out of you. “Your—your wife?” Damn you, Carol!

“Yeah. I think there’s been a huge misunderstanding.”

“You’re telling me.” You muttered, looking toward the infirmary with an expression of remorseful longing. 

“I asked those questions because—because that man is so obviously head over heels for you that it’s absurd he hasn’t made a move. I thought maybe—maybe I could push things along.” She rubbed at the back of her neck, her eyes brightening at something she saw just over your other shoulder. When you turned, a dark haired woman was making her way over, a toddler on her hip. “I just—he’s not much of a talker—until I mention you.” Another glance at the other woman. “I’m sorry.”

When she started to leave, you reached out a hand, the new information still pinballing around in your head. “I’m sorry.” You had treated her—thought of her—so unfairly, and still, she smiled at you. 

“Go on. He’s waiting for you.” And then she was walking away to kiss her wife before converting to a motherly gentleness, her lips pressed to her son’s forehead.

God, you were an asshole.

To her. 

To Daryl. 

Your ankle only received a moment to remind you it was still weak before you continued your journey to the infirmary. 

“M’fine! Quit proddin’ at me!”

The sound of his voice gave your heart permission to beat again. You stood at the door, listening to him argue with Denise until the woman finally gave up with a huff and a clang of metal. Opening the screen door, you limped inside with a hiss, the adrenaline draining out of you, no longer blanketing the pain. You would definitely be set back a week or so after this. 

Daryl was on the exam table, filthy and cut up, shirt open and left foot propped up on a pillow. You could have laughed at the irony if you weren’t so relieved at seeing him there and breathing and whole. Alive. 

His ranting came to an abrupt halt when he noticed you in the doorway, eyes softening. His entire body seemed to visibly relax with an audible exhale. 

“Y/N.”

You didn’t even try to control your quivering lip this time and rushed to cross the distance even with Denise scolding you in the background. 

Your arms wound around his neck and his around your back. “Daryl. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it—I didn’t—”

“S’fine. Know ya didn’t.” He whispered against your temple. Denise cleared her throat behind you and the weight of one of Daryl’s hands disappeared before returning with renewed pressure. The sound of the door opening and closing signaled that he had—in one way or another—told Denise to get lost. Neither of you spoke until you pressed your face into the side of his neck and began to sob. “Hey, m’okay. Just fell on my ass.”

“How?” You sniffled. 

“Window was in my way.”

You laughed wetly, his shoulders bouncing with a breathy chuckle of his own. 

“Idiot.” You chided, pulling away to wipe at your eyes. He watched you gather your bearings, blue eyes dancing between yours. “Are you really okay?”

“Yeah.” His hand was so gentle against your face, thumb sweeping over your cheek to wipe away the tears. “Need to talk to ya ‘bout Angie.”

You shook your head but placed your hand upon his so that he didn’t dare move it. “She beat you to it. I’m so sorry. I was being a jealous asshole.” He tilted his head and squinted. 

“Jealous cause I was spendin’ so much time ‘round her?” It was like he knew the answer that you hadn’t quite accepted as truth yourself. 

“Among other things.” You rubbed your lips together and ducked your head. Daryl hummed in question, his hand sliding down to your jaw, thumb absently stroking across your bottom lip. Your voice instantly decided to become lost in your throat, your mouth opening when his hand fell away. “Daryl, I—” You almost bolted, felt the insane urge to run begin to vibrate throughout your legs from a nervous twitch that started in your stomach and spread throughout your chest.

“That man is so obviously head over heels for you—”

Your lips were on his before your brain had even fully given the order for you to move, likely startling you just as much as it had him—if the sharp inhale through his nose was anything to go by. So, you stayed there, frozen with your mouth against his, neither of you moving until it was so awkward that you thought more than once of how great it would be for the earth to open up and swallow you. Humiliation coloring your cheeks, you began to pull away—and then his mouth moved over yours, his warm palm coming to rest on the side of your neck. Brilliant as you were, you pulled back in shock, wide eyes blinking at him. Cerulean pools were shimmering with horror and shame.

“That bad, huh?” He asked, dropping his hand and picking at a patch of dry skin on his palm. His eyes lowered to follow the movement.

“No!” You blurted. Daryl actually flinched and reeled back. “No, no. It wasn’t—there’s no way it could be—ah, fuck it.” Your hands cupped either side of his face, pulling him to meet you in the middle. There was no hesitance on either side, mouths moving, tongues dancing, a delicate exploration of new territory, both literally and figuratively. His hands settled on your ribs, fingers flexing, trying to pull you closer when there was already so little space between you. 

When you parted, it wasn’t from a lack of oxygen, but from Daryl attempting to alter the angle, forgetting that you were no longer alone in the land of bum ankles.

“Ow, ow, ow!”

You pulled away and jumped back, hands in the air to ensure he knew that you were no longer touching him—as if he weren’t already missing it. “What? What happened?”

“Ankle.” He hissed, gingerly placing his foot back on the pillow. Once the pain had ebbed, he chuckled and beckoned you back over with a wave. “Looks like we’ll both be trapped at home, sunshine.”

“There are worse things.” You brushed a strand of hair away from his face. “We have to talk about this.” You knew you sounded scared, and you were. Everything had just changed in the blink of an eye, the man you knew as your best friend had just suddenly become more, and it was terrifyingly exciting.

“Yeah, I know. Couch ain’t big enough for both’a our lame asses.”

You giggled and shook your head. “Guess it’s off to Carol’s extra bedroom.” When he arched a dark brow, you etched the most serious expression you could summon onto your face. “Strictly for logical reasoning, Mr. Dixon. We can’t climb stairs. She has one bedroom on the first floor. Lecher.” 

“First time I been called that.” He gave you that smile, the one that was so special, and seeing it then, you realized that he hadn’t given Angie that smile at all. It was yours and yours alone.

And you’d need to thank the gorgeous woman with the bow.

[fairycheol]

enhypen as boyfriends

이희승

Heeseung is the type of boyfriend who likes to playfully flirt with you in public just to get a reaction out of you. It’s a habit he’s had since before you started dating.

But with his teasing comes his never ending urge to protect and take care of you, doesn’t matter if it’s pulling you to the inside of a sidewalk, tying your shoes for you, and making sure you are eating regularly.

And trust if he finds out you’ve skipped a meal, he’s sitting you down and personally hand feeding you everything.

Arguments between you two rarely occur and when they do happen it’s usually over something small, like forgetting to text him good morning or give him a kiss goodbye.

This man is so dramatic he once ignored you for an entire week because you mistook one of Jake’s hoodies as his (｡-_-｡)

All in all he just wants you to be happy with him, and he’s willing to do pretty much anything to make sure you feel that way.

박종성

Jay I think is more of a silent lover. He’s not screaming “I love you!” in your face 24/7 like some of the other members, but that doesn’t necessarily mean his love for you is any less.

He prefers showing his love for you by putting his black card to use no matter how much it may annoy you. Jay’s rich tho, so he has no problem dropping 1k dollars for you when he wants.

And while the expensive bouquet of flowers and fancy restaurant dates are nice, Jay also knows how to plan a more relaxed dinner date.

He’ll put his cooking skills to use and make a cute little picnic just for you, complete with activities like painting or stargazing.

You also didn’t hear this from me but, Jay is an extreme cuddlier. I’m talking straight up will put you in a chokehold just to keep you from getting up and leaving him in the freezing cold.

Kind of want my own silent lover Jay now ☹️

심재윤

Oh lord where do i even begin with Jake.

I guess i’ll start off by saying that he loves showing you off. I’m talking will go up to random strangers in a 7/11 to say things like,

“this is my girlfriend? isnt she so pretty?” and then he proceeds to get upset if the person agrees or says nothing at all like okay 💀

Then you have to yell at him for drawing to much attention to you when you have on disney pajama pants and the first sweater you could find from off your dirty floor, but he still insists you look great.

Apart from that he’s not afraid of being affectionate in public, he’ll hug you, hold your hand, and kiss you at any given moment. He still knows when to keep a respectable amount of distance between you two, especially if you begin to show signs of discomfort.

This man would be so in love it’s actually sickening, he stares at you like you made the universe. (cue Niki dramatically gagging in the background)

박성훈

The two of you are either polar opposite’s or the exact same in terms of personality but otherwise, star-crossed lovers. That’s exactly what you guys are.

Sunghoon I think is a perfect combination of what Jay and Jake are as boyfriends. He’s quiet but can get really loud with his affection whenever he wants.

Café dates are a must. He enjoys the peacefulness of sitting together drinking coffee and talking about how you’re both feeling.

I get the feeling his favorite form of physical affection is hugging you, getting to feel the warmth from your body and the way you nuzzle into his neck makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

He’ll never admit this to you but he loves being woken up with kisses onto the moles that decorate his pale skin. He’s faked being asleep at least 10 times just to get some kisses and bask in the warmth of it all.

김선우

Sunoo is probably the most energetic lover out of all the enhypen members. Nothing and i mean absolutely nothing can stop him from letting it be known just how happy he is to have you in his life.

He loves any and all kinds of dates, baking dates? loves it. stay at home dates? he’s got snacks ready. fancy dates? oh he’s going ALL OUT.

Taking pictures of the two of you is another favorite of his. His camera roll is 90% just you. He tears up a little when he has to make room for camera storage cause he wants to cherish your memories together on his phone.

I think he’s also very big on keeping you well fed. He’s always making trips to the store and buying your favorite snacks so you never run out.

Physical affection is another big thing for him, he wants you to feel his love not just through his words and actions but quite literally through his body too.

He’s a perfect boyfriend.

양정원

Jungwon, Jungwon, Jungwon, our lovely leader is def a shy lover. He’s quiet but his actions speak a lot louder than words.

He basks in the warmth of your love and affection. He’s exactly like a cat, YOU kind of have to do all the work but it’s honestly not as bad as it sounds.

He lives for dates in the park, getting to walk around and find a good place to set up your picnic makes him very happy for some reason.

And trust me when i say he has fallen asleep on your lap a good number of times, but he can’t help it! he just gets all warm and happy around you.

I do think because of his leader instincts he’s very protective of you. One time you scraped your knee at the park and my guy was running around almost in tears ready to fight the pebble you tripped on.

He eventually calmed down enough to get some bandaids from a near by store and fix you up. He insisted on carrying you all the way home and was some how successful on doing so.

西村 力

He’s your concert/trip buddy. You two will go anywhere and everywhere together it kind of annoys the members but hey, young love.

He once spotted you at one of their tour stops in the U.S. and he almost lost his mind. Fans got suspicious as to why he began to pay so much attention to the section you were sitting in.

Niki likes to facetime you at random parts of the day just to annoy you, jkjk he does it cause he wants to talk with you. Being around the hyungs for so long makes him miss you and feel lonely but he’ll never admit that.

He more often then not will sneak you into the practice room to show off his dancing and will ask for your opinion afterwards.

It’s mandatory that you give him a kiss everytime he does something good or else he gets upset 😠

All in all he’s just happy to have someone to call his home away from home.