#I’d punch a pillow about it

[bbcphile]

Personal post alert!

I am so fucking tired of the fact that any attempt to treat one of my chronic medical conditions makes the others worse. It’s like the worst game of whack-a-mole ever, because no matter what happens, not only does the mole pop up again, but I keep getting hit with a hammer!

For instance, my doctor wants me to increase my mestinon dose to treat POTS and help control my heart rate, improve brain fog and muscle activation, and reduce fatigue. It makes sense! It’s a miracle med for so many people!

But for me, I can only increase my dose by a 1/4 tablet at a time (anything more and I’m having utterly agonizing stomach cramps and dry heaving. Ugh), and even that is flaring my MCAS and hEDS. It is definitely increasing muscle activation, because it is causing all the muscles in my body to cramp, so everything hurts, but worse than that, they are cramping so forcefully that they are pulling bones and joints so hard they’re out of position, so now several vertebrae, ribs, fingers, carpal bones, and one shoulder and knee are partially dislocated, and holy shit does that hurt!

It also is currently increasing the brain fog and fatigue, but I’m also in enough pain that I can’t actually fall asleep if I try to nap. This is saying a lot, because I have narcolepsy, too, so I’m usually fighting to stay awake.

It does not help that my brain decided now would be a GREAT time to give me back trauma memories I had blocked out (gee, thanks, dissociative barriers. 🙃 Ya know, my writing meta about trauma was NOT ACTUALLY AN INVITATION to remind me how bad experiencing it is), so every day is an “adventure” because I don’t know if it’s going to be a “compartmentalize the shit out of everything and write 4k words” day or a “have all the feelings and everything is terrible” day, and the oscillations between the two and everything that goes with it is exhausting.

All this to say: uggggggghhhhhh.

(Telepathic hugs or cute animal photos or fic/art recs about my blorbos would be greatly appreciated.)

[ynbabe]

Cute situations w/ f1 drivers- ep2. part 2

Asking the drivers if they 'wanna nap?'

PT-1 w/Charles, Carlos, Lando, Oscar, George, Lewis, Lance & Fernando

Max

You had just gotten off the phone with your mother, so obviously tears were stinging your eyes and the urge to punch a wall was getting stronger by the minute. Unfortunately, you weren't the only one dealing with less-than-loving parents.

"But that's not fair, no one's perfect, I've won five out of eight races," He yelled into the phone to a louder voice responding from the other end. Max looked defeated, with red under his eyes and hair sticking up where he dragged his hands through it.

"No, I didn't fucking let them win, it's their job too," he stood right by the door, slamming it behind him, "Whatever, bye," he cut the call, standing still for a few seconds, glaring at his phone, knowing him debating between throwing it at a wall or stomping on it.

"Wanna nap?" You asked him, setting your phone on the coffee table and letting yourself fall face first on to the hotel bed. Max followed suit, one arm over your waist.

“Damn, can you imagine if we swapped places as kids?” You thought out loud as sleep neared making Max scoff.

He turned to you and in a dead serious tone replied, “Y/n/n, you’d be a serial killer and I’d probably be in jail, now let me sleep, you’re warm,” The man’s response was screech worthy, making you want to smack him but for once, he was right, you were very warm and cuddly and so was he, a fight could wait, sleep was now.

Logan

“LOGAN!” You screamed, knocking on his hotel room door, hoping the man would hurry to answer.

You couldn’t believe the man had launched an entire app without even giving you a hint! You were so proud of him and you couldn’t wait to celebrate. You waited to see his smiling face, knowing you were going to shower him with praises and way too many hugs but when he opened the door, his demeanour was nothing like you had expected.

“Dude didn’t you just launch an app? Why the no good sad face?” You asked as you walked in past him.

He sighed as he sat on his bed, working away at his laptop and a hundred pages spread out. You couldn’t help but frown.

“Logan, Logan,” you called out, ultimately pulling the boys head to face yours, “what the fuck mate, you should be happy right now, what’s wrong?” You asked, disturbed that your happy go lucky, it is what it is friend was so sullen.

“The cars fucked, I have no future, my team fucking hates me, my best and only friend literally never talks to me and I feel like a fucking failure,” he went of on you, slamming his laptop shut making you flinch.

You stared unimpressed at his little charade to keep you away, unfortunately you had grown up with the man and knew his tantrums and breakdowns, “First of all, your only friend? What am I chopped liver? Secondly, James Vowles can fuck off for all I care, you deserve so much better then that ratchet ass team, thirdly you just launch your own app, need I go on?” You presented embodying your inner George Russell as you picked Logan’s laptop and papers off his bed.

“But still-” his face was still down and he continued to doubt himself.

“Look,” you say next to him, holding his hand in yours, “it’s been a tough few years, not gonna lie, but you’re going to pull through cause you are one of the most talented people I know,” you squeezed his hand, “also you can’t give up because you promised you’d get rich and pay for everything.” You shrugged and pulled him to lay on the bed.

He huffed, smacking a pillow on your face, “so that’s why you’re friends with me? Not my dazzling personality? How could you? This is a betrayal, I’m betrayed,” he joked, finally getting back to his normal self, but you were still worried about him.

You turned to the man enveloping him in your arms, the man immediately returning the favour immediately. You let yourself fall into a comfortable sleep, telling yourself to do this more often.

Daniel

“Hey, are you busy?” Daniel had said softly as he entered your room immediately raising red flags in your mind, never once hand the man been so quiet. You quickly put away your stuff on the night stand patting the spot on the bed next to you to let him sit.

“Yeah, is everything okay? You look tired, Danny,” you asked to nothing but silence from the man. A few seconds passed and you could see how wet his eyes were.

“Dan-”

“I’m so tired y/n/n,” he spoke in a hoarse whisper, scaring you, what did he mean by that? “I’m just, I can’t, I’m doing everything I can and it isn’t enough, I- I,” he tried speaking but he couldn’t without choking.

You tired not to cry with him, the only man you’d always known to be laughing and happy even in the worst of circumstances, keeping everyone’s spirits up was sitting here in front of you, so hopeless.

You didn’t think twice before pulling him in a hug, cradling him as you both sank into a laying position. “You’re tired, mate, let’s take a nap, it’ll be okay Danny, I promise, it’s going to be fine,” you whispered into his hair making him nod.

You felt him drift off as the tears slowed down and you couldn’t help passing out in the warmth either knowing when you wake up you’d find a way to make the man himself again.

Yuki

“Can I please marry you?” You begged for what seemed the tenth time that day much to Yuki’s irritation.

“I am never cooking for you ever again,” he complained falling onto the sofa next to you, watching the sitcom tv rather than paying attention to you.

“Please, you know you loved the tiramisu I made,” you boasted, opening up a button on your shirt to allow you to breath. The amount of food you and Yuki had consumed for individuals of your sizes were seriously guiness worthy.

He whined knowing you had won that argument, “fine but I want the recipe as a wedding gift,” he joked making the both of you laugh.

“Dude I’m ready to go into a food coma for the next ten fucking years,” you confessed, making the man nod in agreement.

“I’ve eaten enough for the next damn week.”

“We should nap,” you spoke out loud, turning to the man next to you, “wanna nap?”

“Yup,” he immediately answered to which you both pounced on either ends of the sofa, shifting into comfortable positions, making sure neither was kicking the other, his legs on the coffee table pulled close to the sofa and yours curled up closed to you.

Pierre

“Fuck me,” you groaned as another one of your projects fell through. You threw your phone on the table in front of you, sighing as you did.

“Do mind if I do,” joked an irritating grating voice from behind you, from your bed, you had honestly forgotten your friend had been there after another pissy fight with his sweetheart teammate.

“Keep talking Gasly, I’ll call Ocon over make it a threesome,” you laughed as you joined him, pushing him to one side to make space.

The man looked honestly disgusted, “I can’t believe you’d stoop low enough to even joke about that, standards babe, standards,” he scoffed looking at you judgementally to which you rolled your eyes.

“Damn I guess we won’t be making love, sad, I was actually going to agree for once, I’ll just ask Estie then” you fake sighed, feigning disappointment, much to the other man’s horror.

“Shut up, Y/n,” he knocked your shoulder with his after he saw your grin, fighting a yawn as you pushed him back.

“Do you wanna nap?” You asked, equally tired and dejected about your failed project, he nodded and pulled the both of you into a more comfortable position, turning in to face you, burying his face in your neck and you let your hand play with his silky blonde locks, falling into a comfortable sleep.

Esteban

“BITCH, YOU WILL NOT BELIVE THE SHIT I’VE JUST SEEN-” you yelled as you ran into Esteban’s driver room, seeing him lying on the makeshift bed.

You immediately jumped in next to him, waking him up in a startle, “MERDE! Y/n?” He yelled in fear and then confusion, looking around as if a swat team had burst in, “what is wrong with you?” He screeched as he pulled his hands over his face in exhaustion, “you’re a worse gossip than Pierre,” he grunted lying back down.

You animatedly threw yourself down next to him, using his arm as a pillow. “I abhor that accusation, actually,” you grumbled but gave in nonetheless, “okay so look at this photo and tell me what you see,” you showed his your phone, a photo you’d gotten out of a greedy paparazzi’s hand as a media control agent in Mercedes.

The man next to you suddenly seemed much more awake, “Is that Nico fucking Rosberg?” He whisper- yelled into your ears, snatching the phone out your hands.

“Yup,” you grinned popping the p, “bought that shit for eleven thousand dollars,” he whistled, “that was taken at 4 am at Lewis’s hotel,” you whispered, turning your body to face his.

“Oh my god,” he laughed, “I thought these were rumours?” He asked gleefully.

“Nope, this isn’t even the first time I’ve had to do damage control,” you sighed, trying to get your phone back but it was pulled away by the taller man.

“You mean there’s gossip you haven’t told me? Your best friend, whose room you’re currently hiding in? Interrupting my nap time?”

“You, Estie, are such a drama queen,” you teased him, pulling your phone out of his hand. “And we can definitely nap, I spent all night trying to convince that asshole to drop the story,” you kept you phone in your pocket as Esteban made himself comfortable, both of you letting yourselves rest after the tiring day you had.

Zhou

“How are you not broke?” The man yelled in astonishment as he saw at the amount of bags in the Prada assistants hands, choosing to ignore his own in another’s, he was allowed to spend he technically was a millionaire, even without his family and sponsors.

You looked at him with raised brows as you opened the doors your apartment building, you and Zhou both owning the penthouses, yours above his.

You let the men drop the bags off on your floor, keeping Zhou waiting, making him annoyed to your amusement. When the men finally left you simply answered, “Samsung shares.”

Zhou groaned “Spoilt child,” and headed into the guest suite as you headed into your room, “look whose talking I have my own assistant at the mall,” you called out behind you. That had been funny, the man followed Zhou to every shop, holding the bags you both collected till you needed another.

You both walked out and showed each other the clothes and accessories you had bought, occasionally swapping one or two. As the day progressed into late evening you called for food, tired from the little fashion show you had.

“I need a nap,” you groaned, folding your feet as you sat on the dinning table chair.

“My legs are killing me,” Zhou agreed, not only had he had a terrible work out in the morning but you both had covered way more than 10,000 steps in that mall.

“Want to nap?” You offered, knowing very well he could just go a floor below to his own home.

“Sure, turn on screen mirroring on your tv, I’ll show you the drivers chat,” he said heading into your room and you ran behind him with glee.

The gossip was the best part of being friends with Zhou, that and the really warm cuddles he gave, “oh my god, Charles and Max again?” You laughed and leaned on his shoulders as he relayed all the details to you, his voice slowly softening as you both drifted into a peaceful sleep.

[kiss-inthekitchen]

favorite insomniac | spencer reid

a little warm-up exercise i just finished <3 you can't sleep, so you decide to call the only other person you know who would be awake at this hour. ~500 words

You don’t get insomnia. Usually, you fall asleep quickly and easily, and then devolve into any number of nightmares or vivid dreams or somethings that cause to you wake up feeling like you hadn’t slept at all. 

Obviously not great. But not insomnia.

Tonight, however, is not a usual night.

You roll over once again, after what feels like hours but is probably only twenty minutes of lying as still as possible and trying to will your body to be tired. You check the time on your phone; 3:14 AM. 

Ugh. You have to be at work in less than 6 hours, awake in less than 5. Closer to 4, if you want to actually look presentable. 

You groan, scrubbing your hands over your face and barely resisting the urge to start punching your pillows. 

And then you give up. 

There’s one insomniac you know who’s got a pretty good chance of being awake right now. You've dialed the number before you can even think about it. The line rings once, and you realize what an inappropriate, quite possibly disrespectful choice this had been. You’re about to hang up, hovering over the red button, when you hear him. 

“Hey,” he says, voice raspy. 

Oh god, oh god. “Please tell me I didn’t wake you up.” 

“No,” Spencer chuckles bitterly, “You didn’t. What’s wrong?” 

“I can’t sleep?” 

His eyebrows raise halfway to his hairline. “So you called me?” 

You and Spencer are coworkers. You’re friends. You just don’t really hang out much outside of work and work-related events. Not that you haven’t wanted to, you just… don’t really know how. Or if you should. Or if it would be particularly smart. 

“I’m so sorry. I figured if anyone was liable to be awake right now, it’d be… I wasn’t thinking. I’ll let you go, I’m–” 

“Hey, it’s alright,” he says, amused. You’re the only person he ever gets the opportunity to calm down; he’s usually the most nervous person in the room. “This doesn’t usually happen to you though, does it?” 

“No,” you huff, flopping back against your pillows. “I’d ask you for tips, but whatever you’re doing clearly isn’t working.” 

“That’s nice.” 

“Am I wrong?” 

“No, you’re not wrong.” 

You make a self-satisfied little “hmph” sound. 

“What did you call me for then?” 

Something in the timbre of his voice makes your heart speed up. “I don’t know, human connection across the ether that is 3 AM?” The sense that you’re the only two people in the universe. The sound of his voice. Not that you could say that part out loud.

“Wanna go for a drive?”

Huh? “Wh– We have work in, like, 5 hours.” 

“Oh, you haven’t been counting, have you?”

“You mean like thinking ‘if I fall asleep right now at this moment I could get 5 hours of sleep’ but then I still don’t fall asleep and I watch the minutes go by until it’s only 4 and a half hours and then I get angry at myself for being awake and then I’m somehow even more awake?” 

He chuckles, dark and rich through the phone. “The classic trap. Never count the hours.” 

“Now you tell me.” 

“Alright,” he grunts, and you hear him shuffling around, “I’m picking you up.”

“You're what?!"

"I'm picking you up," his voice lilts up, almost like a question. But not like he's asking for permission, more like he's teasing you. Like he knows your answer anyway.

"Now? You have a car?” 

“Yes, now. And yes, I have a car,” you hear jingling on the other end. “You’re gonna like it.”

[hazbinwhoree]

Come Inside

Part 2/2

A/N: The heavily requested part two.

“Well you fucking did it,” (Name) announced, storming into the living room where Adam was watching TV. “Did what,” he asked, mouth full of the ribs he was eating. (Name) threw something at him.

“Hey!” he yelped, the small object bouncing off his shoulder. He picked it up and the world stopped for a moment. It was a pregnancy test. And it was positive.

“Are you fucking with me?” Adam asked after a moment. “Does that look like I am fucking with you?” She had a point. (Name) was watching him anxiously. Adam looked back at her. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“I… I don’t know. How do you feel?” “Like I made good on a promise,” Adam smirked. (Name) threw a pillow at his head. “This is serious!” “I am serious!” Adam protested. “I said I’d put a baby in you and I did. You had no fuckin’ objections when we were doing it.”

(Name) groaned, flopping onto the couch next to him. “You’re telling me that you are ready to be a dad?” Adam placed a hand over his heart in mock hurt. “You say that like it’s an insane notion. I knew the risks, I knew this was a possibility. I wouldn’t have taken the chance if I wasn’t ready for it.”

(Name) teared up.

“Oh, shit, do you not want this?”

(Name) shook her head. “No, it’s just the hormones and the fact you actually want to have a baby with me.”

Adam laughed, pulling her into his lap. “Of course I want to have a baby with you. I wouldn’t have a baby with anyone else. Well, Eve, but I never raised Cain and Abel. In fact I was a completely absent dad–” “Babe.” Adam laughed, thinking about it. “I don’t know if that’s funny,” (Name) said.

Adam cleared his throat. “Point is, you make me want to be a father so long as you’re the mother.”

“You’re not gonna leave me and the baby like you left Cain and Abel?”

“Babe, Eve had Cain and Abel like right before she cheated on me. I wasn’t fuckin’ sticking around. Those kids are a mess too–” he laughed. “One killed the other!”

(Name) rolled her eyes, punching his shoulder. “The things you find funny are so fucked.” “Yeah but you love me,” Adam cooed, licking her cheek. (Name) squealed. “I hate when you do that! Just kiss me like a normal person, asshole!” Adam cackled.

The first trimester, it still hadn’t become a permanent thought in Adam’s head that he was going to be a father.

The second trimester, it became much more real and they started considering baby names and preparing a nursery.

The third trimster, was really bad for (Name). She was constantly exhausted, sore, hungry but sick to her stomach. The baby really did a number on her. By the time nine months rolls around, (Name) is more than ready to get this child out of her.

“GET IT OUT OF ME!” She screamed after pushing once. “Push again!” the midwife encouraged. (Name) screamed as she did.

Adam watched on in horror. He wasn’t there to witness Cain and Abel’s births, so he had no idea how brutal and scary childbirth was. He stroked back hair off her sweaty forehead, letting her squeeze the life out of his other hand.

Every time she screamed, Adam lost his shit a little bit.

“And push!” With one final push and a pained yell, (Name) delivered their baby.

It was a baby girl.

Adam had been reconsidering his eligibility for fatherhood. But when the nurse cleaned their baby off and placed her on (Name)’s chest, Adam was determined not to ruin a good thing. He may not be looking forward to the responsibilities of a father, but he would take them on for her sake.

In the following weeks, he really tries to help with the baby equally, but he’s pretty bad at it. He’d offered to take a few night shifts but would sleep straight through the baby’s crying, leaving (Name) to go soothe her. But he learned how to prepare a bottle of milk, and he learned how to change dirty diapers.

To his surprise, he actually didn’t find it all that difficult to bond with his child. (Name) even caught him baby talking once, which he fervently denies.

Months go by, and their daughter surprises them with her very first word… “Fuck!”

(Name) is appalled, Adam thinks it’s hilarious. She berates Adam for setting a bad example for the baby, when she shocks them with her second word. “Bitch.” Clear as day. Adam picks their daughter up and praises her. (Name) hits Adam’s arm.

Adam does his best to be a good husband and father, and while he’s not great at it, he is a present father and a loving husband.

[ghost-proofbaby]

fictional boyfriends (e.m.)

summary: eddie gets jealous of your newest fictional boyfriend from a game he got you into.

warnings: kinda sweet. kinda cringe. eddie is jealous of astarion. twilight reference jumpscare. not edited. biting and vague mentions of sex at the end.

wc: 2.5k+

a/n: this is the dumbest, cringiest thing i have ever written. but on this side of town, we embrace the cringe <3 happy valentine's day, enjoy me combining my current favorite fictional men (astarion and eddie) for my own personal delight. maybe one day i'll write a serious fic regarding the biting kink

It’s not that biting had ever been off the table with Eddie, per se.

Nips between kisses, using a little more teeth when he’d kiss across your neck, a joking sinking of your teeth into his shoulder when you were vying for his attention — they were all normal occurrences between the two of you. There was just never much discussion about it. No conversation explicitly had in which the two of you said, “Why, yes. This is something I’d like to bring into the bedroom.” 

Until that damn game.

When Eddie introduced you to Baldur’s Gate 3, the last thing he expected was to watch all your free time you used to spend pestering him suddenly handed over to some fictional vampire. He thought it’d be a game you tried, grew tired of, lost interest in, and that was that. Nothing more, nothing less. He didn’t expect a sudden competition for your goddamn affections. 

“Baby, please come to bed,” he all but whines as he drapes himself over your shoulders, trying to nudge off your headphones. He could feel just how warm your ears had grown beneath them. He swears he can feel your back crack from the slightest bit of his weight on your shoulders. And, sue him — he was tired and he wanted to cuddle. 

“One more minute,” you mumble the same phrase to him that he has used a million times on you; he instantly knows it’ll be far more than just sixty more seconds if he agrees, “Let me just finish this-“

“No,” he’s still whining, but it’s more stern now as he properly removes your headset, earning a glare from your bloodshot eyes, “You’ve been playing this game all afternoon, sweetheart. I think I might die if you don’t offer me some immediate attention. Truly.”

For emphasis, he lays more of his body weight on you, your chair creaking from holding up both of you now. 

“Eddie,” you moan out, wiggling beneath his dead-weight, “I swear to God, get off of me-“

“I’ll get off of you if you come to bed.”

You pause. Your hands hover near your keyboard and mouse, but you’re no longer walking your avatar across the world of Baldur’s Gate, and he knows he has you considering it.

More weight. More groans. At this rate, he’s questioning if your chair won’t break from his outrageous method to get your attention. 

“Fine.” 

The small yes he lets out only earns him a punch to the shoulder. But it gets you off the game, and that’s still a win for him.

He doesn’t even care about appearing over eager as you follow him back to the bedroom. He’s gone as far as preparing the bed, pillows fluffed and comforted pulled back while awaiting your arrival. He’s already washed his face and brushed his teeth (something he usually fights you on as you nag him before bed), and the moment he’s got you in the room with him, he’s dragging you right onto the mattress with him.

“You’re gonna hurt us!” you yelp as he wraps his arms around you and flops down, dragging you with him, but it’s through a laugh. He knows you really couldn’t care less — he’d never deliberately injure you, irritated about your newest fictional boyfriend or not. 

“Oh, no,” he mocks, rolling so you’re laying on top of him, “What ever will you do if I injure one of your precious wrists, and you can’t use it to flirt with your new boy toy tomorrow?” 

“Astarion would be devastated,” you giggle into his chest, not moving off of him despite all your protests. It’s nice — to feel the full weight of you, to just get to bury his nose in the crown of your head as he shamelessly inhales the sweet lingering scent of your coconut shampoo, “He’s even needier than you.” 

“Yeah, ‘cause you serve as his functional juice box.”

“I do not!” you wiggle against him, and it only makes him tighten his arms, “He’s needy because he loves me.”

“Well that makes one of us.” 

Your head lifts off his chest in an instant, faux offense shadowing your features, “You tryin’ to say you don’t love me, Munson?”

He smirks, pressing his lips together tightly, making you huff in frustration. 

Of course he loves you. There wouldn’t be a ring in his sock drawer that he’s terrified of you finding if he didn’t. 

You pout, subtly and adorably so, starting to lift off of him, “If you’re going to be mean, I’m just going to go back to someone who appreciates me-“

“Mean?” he scoffs, enjoying himself far too much. He’s missed your attention, your affection. The effect it has on him is similar to a high, making him dizzy on serotonin as he rolls over and pins you between him and the mattress, “Oh, baby, that’s not me being mean. I can show you mean, if you want.” 

He’s always thought you looked prettiest like this. Under him, eyes wide as you look up at him as if he’s the only thing in this room worth looking at. Worth more than your prized bookshelf, more interesting than all the various posters the two of you have hung on the walls. You look at him as though he’s the greatest thing to exist in these four walls, and he doesn’t take it lightly when your favorite albums and candles are right there.

“You don’t have a mean bone in your body, Munson,” you whisper softly, face going soft for him. The two of you are still surely joking around, the playfulness of it all thick in the air, but there’s something genuine in your words that makes him even more enamored with you. 

He should have predicted you’d fall for Astarion when he showed you the game. You had a thing for people who put up the tough front, but who really just needed a little extra softness and patience under the surface. He was living proof of it.

Unlike your fictional vampire boyfriend. 

“Yeah?” he taunts, leaning down until the tip of his nose brushes yours. His hair works like a curtain, messy as ever as he shields the two of you from the outside world. One of your hands have crept up so that you palm rests against his cheek, and he can hardly remember that flare of jealousy that had gnawed at him when you’d spent your entire afternoon absorbed in the game instead of him, “I bet I could be meaner than Astarion. Although, I’m not sure just how mean that man has ever been to you, given all the war crimes you commit for his approval-“

He’s cut off when the thumb of the hand cradling his face trails up, pressing on his bottom lip. It only makes him grow even closer to you, pressing in, drawn by your touch.

You squint your eyes at him jokingly before cooing, “Someone sounds jealous.”

“Damn right,” he doesn’t even try to deny it, caught in the web of your trap with ease, “Does your pixelated lover even know what a catch he’s got?” 

You snort adorably at that. He pulls away to see the full force of your laughter, lifting up into his elbows to admire how your face scrunches with your smile. He bets Astarion would make some sarcastic comment about it — about the crinkles by your eyes that he aches to pepper with kisses, about the indents in your cheeks when you smile this wide, about the sound of your genuine laughter when you unrestrained and entirely comfortable like this. But there’s not a single joke forming on Eddie’s tongue. He’s all but hypnotized. 

God, he fucking loves you. So much so he’s jealous of a video game character.

“I’m not sure I’d consider this,” you lift the hand not holding him carefully still to motion at your current state of being, “A catch, my love.” 

He has to disagree. Messy hair or not, wrinkled pajamas or not.  You��re the greatest catch of this entire existence; not just Eddie’s, but the Universe’s. Nothing you could say or point out would deter him from this belief. He loves you, mess and all.

“My love?” he chooses to tease instead, all the words of affection threatening to choke him if he so much as considers letting them pour out, “I like the sound of that. If that’s the Astarion effect, maybe he isn’t so bad after all.”  

His elbows are sinking deeper into the mattress. With every passing second, his face is dropping closer to yours, and he’s not sure if it’s by instinct or choice. But when his lips finally brush yours, he decides it’s all the same — it doesn’t really matter what sort of gravity is at work here, as long as it keeps bringing him down closer to you.

“Shut up about the game and kiss me, Eddie.” 

He doesn’t have to be told twice.

The kiss is as sweet as ever. A comfortable dance that still sends shivers down his spine. If either of you looked closer at his arms bracketing your shoulders, you’d see the goosebumps raising as you eagerly returned all his affection.

You taste like the chocolates you’d been snacking on during your gaming. You taste like the greatest gift ever given, and he doesn’t care if he’s exaggerating or not. You’re divine — his favorite good morning and his only goodnight. 

And he’d say all that, but you’d probably accuse him of trying too hard to be like Astarion. Probably bring up that ridiculous line the character once said about you being made by the Gods, just to ruin him.

You were, though. Made by the Gods, specifically to ruin Eddie. Fuck the game. 

“You know,” he whispers against your lips, breaking for air as he adjusts positions. Your thighs open up and welcome him home, letting him slot right between your legs comfortably. He’s not trying to seduce you, but he can’t even be mad about it. He feels like a starved man now that your attention has been divided as of late, “If you wanted a lover who bites, all you had to do was ask, darling.” 

If you weren’t so wrapped up in the kisses he was pressing down your jaw and along your neck, you would have ripped him to shreds for the awful impersonation. 

But you’re already far gone, lost in his touches and his adorations. You let the half-assed attempt at a British accent slide, and you even bare your neck to him at the minute threat. 

Biting had never been off the table, per se, and Eddie was really fucking glad for it.

When he presses one, two, three greedy kisses to that sweet spot just below your ear, he has one intention in mind. Not his usual sucking and nipping and soothing, not leaving behind one of his ordinary love bites. No, he lets himself get caught up in the moment, and when he catches that quiver of excitement the moment he drags his teeth over your neck carefully, he’s fully committed to his decision.

He bites.

Not hard enough to draw blood, or even be terribly painful. He knows it’s nothing like the game or any of your subsequent fantasies you might have had from it. His canines are fairly dull, even as they dig carefully into the skin of your neck, holding for a moment for effect. But your legs tighten around his hips, and he almost wishes he was a damn vampire, able to actually pierce your skin in the moment. Drink your blood. Whatever the allure was with the origin companion.

You let out a soft gasp which has him keeping your skin between his teeth a few extra seconds, and then he’s letting go. Lifting his head and looking into your eyes, a silent exchange of is this okay?

If the glazed over look is anything to go off of, it’s more than okay.

He returns with reckless abandon, switching between his usual desperate kisses and the newer, sharper ones. He has one goal in mind: to mark you up as his, to the point in which you’ll be scolding him in the morning. It’s like a drug, to feel you writhe beneath him as he paints the picture. 

Love notes of freshly born bruises, the imprints of his teeth – a letter across your delicate skin that reads, he was here, and he loved you, more than anyone else in this Universe may ever be capable of. 

“If I had known how much biting would rile you up, I would’ve started doing it ages ago,” he mumbles into the crook of your neck, finally pausing his assault. 

He settles for softer presses of his lip, peppering the affection where he had been a bit more violent. 

Your hands that had taken to tangling into the curls at the nape of his neck have gone more relaxed, no longer tugging but instead just lingering. Pulling him closer. Touching him with softer hands than he’s ever felt deserving of. 

“Guess you’ve got a certain vampire to thank for that,” you tease, but he can hear just how breathless he’s left you. He had sworn he could feel the pulse of your facing heart beneath his lips, even if just for a moment. Even if he just imagined it. 

“Please. Astarion is not getting the credit for that,” he scoffs, lifting up onto his elbows again to just look at you. His lover, his favorite person. It’s nice to see your face when it’s not washed over with the cast of a computer screen. “That was all me. And even if it wasn’t, I won’t forget that you had a Twilight phase.” 

Your hand quickly drops between the two of you, only to smack at his chest. The thump holds no weight as you whine, “I told you that in confidence.” 

He dips down, capturing one last kiss, “It’s okay, baby. It’s good to know that you have a type.”

“I do not-”

He cuts you off with a more playful bite to your neck. Less about marking you, and more just to make a point. 

“Just,” another nip, “admit,” another graze of his teeth, “it.” 

You’re fighting a smile when he looks down at you again, impossible to hide behind your mask of annoyance. “I am not admitting that I have a thing for broody, pathetic vampires.” 

“Well, I’ve got broody and pathetic down-”

“Eddie,” your thighs still bracket him, one hand still clinging to the back of his neck. When you say his name, the game is over. “We can spend all night bickering over the fictional men I love, or you can give me a reason to forget their names. It’s up to you.” 

His eyebrows jump up his forehead, and he’s just about to give up the bit, but not before one last snide remark.

“Kind of hard to do that when I share a name with one of them, but as you wish, sweetheart.” 

Another bout of beautiful laughter from him. Another smack on the chest from you. It’s good – it’s everything Eddie has ever wanted, and it is good.

He does, of course, make you forget their names. And if you find it difficult to get out of bed the next moment, dramatically unable to make the walk to your gaming computer, well – he won’t try to hide his smug smile in between the soft rays of morning light.

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[dancingtotuyo]

Part I

High Infidelity | Joel Miller X Female Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Summary: Tommy gets himself into more trouble than he can get out of.

Tags: Tommy x Reader, Joel x Reader, Tommy's Wife Reader, infidelity, emotional affair, slow burn (as much as you can get for 5 chapters), Tommy goes to jail, Reader has had a child

Warnings: US justice system (it don't work, probably bad understanding of how it operates), mention of drugs & weapons, alcohol consumption, let me know if I missed anything

Notes: when I planned this out, I didn’t realize I’d scheduled the first chapter to drop on Pedro’s birthday! So happy birthday to him!

Shout out to @janaispunkfor beta reading and @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for letting me scream about this endlessly and shaping this world. Finally, @saradika-graphics for sustaining our fic writers with an endless supply of dividers!

Words: 4396

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist | Daily Clicks for Palestine & Other resources

You’re asleep, or at least you should be except the phone is ringing and the bed is cold next to you. That’s a bad sign. It always is. 

A small grunt echoes from your gut as bare feet hit the cool hardwood floor. You can’t find the phone before it stops, buried under clothes you haven’t folded, scribbled crayon drawings, and bleary eyes. It starts back almost immediately.

“Tommy?”

“He called me.” Joel’s voice echoes through the line. “It’s bad this time.”

“How bad?”

“He asked for a lawyer.”

You press your palm to your forehead. “Shit!”

“The sitter is on her way to yours. I’m getting Sarah up now. We’ll be there in 10.”

“Thank you, Joel.”

“Of course. See you soon.”  Joel hangs up. 

You roam through the laundry basket for a clean pair of jeans and an acceptable t-shirt. You run a toothbrush through your mouth to freshen your breath. You do your best to push back all the possibilities running through your brain. 

You crack open the door to Nathaniel’s room. Your two-year-old son sleeps tightly, his mop of black curls spread out on the pillow. You want to run your hand through his curls and kiss his cheek, but he’s the world’s lightest sleeper, just like his daddy. 

The sitter is there 5 minutes later, all too familiar with this routine for your liking. Joel ushers in a bleary-eyed minutes later. He tucks her into the spare room bed. Sarah doesn’t ask questions. She’s asleep before he can kiss her head.

You move like the well-oiled machine that you are. He grabs your purse, ensuring the checkbook is there while you say a few words to the sitter. Joel hands you the small black bag and a light jacket.

Doors open before you and close without you touching them. You and Joel are riding down the highway. The windows are cracked, the breeze playing through your hair as street lights play off the windows, growing bigger and brighter as your eyes fill with tears. You chew on your thumb as the thoughts finally begin to take over.  

You’ve felt Tommy slipping these past few months. You’ve tried to ignore it, excuse it. He’s had a hard time adjusting. This is hardly the first time he’s been in jail. It feels like a weekly occurrence at this point, but he’s never needed a lawyer. He’s never been held longer than overnight. 

“Did he say what they got him for?”

“No… he asked me to come alone.”

“Fucking hell.” You run a hand over your face. Tommy’s antics are aging you prematurely. 

“He’s going to be okay.”

“Says who?” You snap. “We’ve been doing this dance for months, Joel! I know he’s having a hard time adjusting, but maybe we’ve been giving him too much room.”

Joel sighs, letting silence fall over the truck cabin. His blinker clicks as you turn into the familiar station. You wonder if the night shift is actually going to fulfill their punch card offer this time. 

Joel has barely pushed the truck into park before you’re out of the vehicle, flying through the front doors. Joel is hot on your heels, not bothering to lock his beat-up pickup. 

Your ID is already on the desk, you don’t even have to say a name. The officer at the front desk doesn’t need your license. He barely looks at it. It’s all a raging formality. They escort you to a room, not a holding cell as you’re used to.

Tommy sits at a table talking to a tired-looking public defender. His head snaps up, eyes jumping from your face to Joel’s behind you. “I told you to come alone.”

“The fuck you did Thomas James Miller!” You say before Joel can defend himself.

Tommy stands to his feet, the chair skidding back. “You’re not supposed to be here for this!”

“I’m your wife! You call me!”

“Or maybe you should be home with your child!”

“Oh, I should be home with our son? And what about you?”

“I’m not having this fight with you right now.” Tommy throws his hands in the air moving his attention to Joel who leans against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. “You were supposed to come alone!”

“What’re you in for?” You ask, not giving Joel a chance to answer. Not that he was going to. He knows not to let Tommy deflect to him when you are around. 

Tommy sighs falling into the chair like a rag dog. Stress lines engrave themselves deep into his forehead.

“Tommy…” A pit drops in your stomach. “What did they get you with?”

“A gun-“

“Without a permit.” The Lawyer speaks for the first time. There’s a roll to Tommy’s eyes. 

“And?” 

Tommy can’t meet your eyes. He shuffles in his seat. 

“Tommy,” Joel says, voice low and gruff. It’s automatic, parental even.

“A couple grams of coke.”

“Fucking hell, Tommy.” Joel hits his head against the wall. 

“I didn’t- I never took it. I promise.”

You take a shaking breath, trying to calm your worn nerves. “So what are we looking at here?” You ask, eyes trained on the lawyer. 

You see Tommy out of your peripheral vision using his pleading puppy dog eyes on you. You square your shoulders determined not to fall for it. They’re the reason you’re in this boat in the first place. 

“Babe-“

You hold up a hand cutting him off, eyes trained on the lawyer. “What are we looking at?”

“Probably Jail time. DA’s office has been cracking down on these kinds of cases the past few months.”

“Is he getting out tonight?”

The lawyer shakes his head. “We have to wait until tomorrow for arraignment and bail.”

“Then, I’ll see you two tomorrow.” You give them a firm nod, exiting the room in a flash.

The Texas air wraps around you as you exit the stale police station. Joel’s pick-up is cool under your fingers, anchoring you to something.

This can’t be happening. You’ve felt him slipping through your fingertips for months, but you wonder if this is it if this is the moment you lose Tommy for good. 

Firm arms wrap around your waist. It’s a warmth you’ve become way too familiar with over the last couple of years. You turn around, letting your tears soak Joel’s shirt as they have so many times before. You twist his shirt in your fists as he cradles your head against his chest. There’s a slight sway in his movements, soothing your wrenching soul. 

“We’re going to get through this.”

“He had cocaine!”

Joel sighs. “I know.”

“I can’t keep doing this. It’s going to kill me.”

“Let’s get you home. Get some sleep.” Joel squeezes you and then guides you into the passenger side seat. “We have a long day tomorrow.”

“What time is-“

“Lawyer said about 11. Wants us to meet them at the courthouse at 10.”

You nod, clearing the tears. “Okay.”

The drive home is quiet. You’re used to Tommy throwing out every excuse in the book, promising he’s going to change. The silence makes you want to scream. How do you go forward? How do you explain to Nathaniel that Daddy won’t be home for a long time? Jail Time. It bounces off the walls of your brain like a gong over and over. 

You’ve done this before. Raise your son alone. Tommy was overseas when Nathaniel was born. You did the first 3 months on your own- or sort of alone. Joel and Sarah spent many nights at your and Tommy’s home those first few months helping you through the learning curve of being a new parent. If you’re completely honest, you’re still doing it alone, but now with a shell of a man to look after as well. 

Joel hands the sitter cash and she’s gone without a word. Your purse and jacket are forgotten on the chair as you collapse onto the couch, holding your head in your hands. The weight of the night threatens to finally break you. 

“Here.” The cool weight of a bottle presses against your jeans.

“Thank you.” You take it, tipping the bottle back in unison with Joel in a quiet ritual. 

“I think I’m just gonna crash on the couch tonight.”

You nod, a humorless huff leaving your chest. “Just like the good ole days, I guess.” 

Joel looks over your profile, catches the wear in your frame, the silent tears slipping from your eyes. The rattle in your chest changes from sarcastic to sorrow and then a sob slips from your lips. 

Joel sets his beer on the coffee table, arm slipping around your shoulders. He pulls your loose body into his side. For the second time that night, your face burrows into his chest. 

“Shhh, I’ve got you, Darlin’. We’ll get through this.” His voice is soft and soothing. His fingers brush softly over your head down to the back of your neck. You fall asleep like that, lulled by the steady beat of his heart. 

You wake up to the morning sun, your body stiff from sleeping on the couch against Joel. He’s up, the smell of coffee wafting toward you. You hear him talking to Sarah and Nathaniel in the kitchen. 

You stand, stretching out your sore muscles in wrinkled clothing following the promise of caffeine. Sarah and Nathaniel sit at the kitchen table with syrupy smiles. 

“Mommy!” Nathaniel yells. 

You force a sleepy smile, kissing his sticky cheek. “Morning, sweet cheeks.” You dip your finger in the syrup on his plate, licking it off your fingertip making him and Sarah laugh. “Morning, Sarah Bear.”

“Morning, Auntie,” She says. “Your clothes are wrinkled.”

Joel’s hand lands on your back and a cup of coffee lands in your hands, sending warmth through your body. The hum in your body is automatic. “Thank you.”

Joel only nods, returning his attention to the pancakes sizzling on the stovetop. You sip on the hot coffee. Joel prepared it exactly how you like it, just like he always does.

 “You hate pancakes.” 

“Yeah, but the gremlins love them.”

“That they do.” You grin, sipping on the coffee again. “Ugh, it’s infuriating the way you come into my home and make better coffee than I do.”

Joel chuckles, flipping two fluffy pancakes onto a plate. He tops them with cut-up strawberries and whipped cream handing them to you with the biggest shit-eating grin. “And pancakes.”

For a minute you forget it all, the impending arraignment, your husband in jail for unregistered weapons and drug possession, the two children sitting mere feet away. It’s just you and Joel and a stack of whipped cream-covered pancakes. Joel who held your hand through labor and helped you with midnight feedings. The man who got you through Tommy’s deployment. The one who always calls the sitter and drives you to the police station when Tommy gets himself in trouble. You and your rock. 

The shattering of glass echoes through the kitchen. “Uh-oh!”

You spin around, taking in the broken glass on the floor. Orange juice leaks over the table, dripping over the edge. You and Joel spring into action, pancakes forgotten. “Both of you stay in your seats,” You say.

Joel grabs the broom before you, sweeping up the shards, his feet already protected in his boots. You turn off the stove, keeping an eye on both children to ensure you don’t add bloodied feet to your morning agenda. 

“Sorry, Daddy,” Sarah says, keeping her feet crisscrossed beneath her. She looked up at you. “Sorry about your glass, Aunt Bonnie.”

You smile at her, handing Joel a towel to soak up the spilled juice. “It’s okay, Sarah bear. I just want you to be okay.”

She nods back, curls bouncing around her face. “I’m okay.”

You sigh, staring at the pancakes on the counter. The whipped cream has melted into a lopsided mound, half of it turned back into cream that soaks through the pancakes. You take a bite, the flavors settling nicely over your tongue even if the texture of the pancakes is slightly off. For a man who claims not to like them, Joel Miller sure knows how to make a mean pancake. 

Your mind plays back to the nickname. Not many people call you Bonnie anymore. Just a few years ago, it had been a constant. Stemming from Tommy’s group of army buddies, they declared you Bonnie for always stealing Tommy away from their group cookouts and whatnot, and Tommy was Clyde due to his propensity for getting into trouble. For whatever reason, probably just to annoy you, Tommy had introduced you to Sarah as “His Bonnie.” So that’s what she calls you. 

Joel empties the remaining shards into the trash can. Several high-pitched clinks sound off until the shards settle. Your fork stirs the whipped cream and syrup together. 

“Pancakes are usually best eaten, not played with.” Joel teases, picking his coffee up to take a sip. His fingers graze your arm as he sets it back down, returning the broom back to its rightful place.

”You don’t even like pancakes.” You furrowed your brow, taking another bite. Whipped cream marks your upper lip. You take another bite. “God, one day you have to tell me your secret.”

Joel chuckles. He leans across the counter, elbows resting against the granite much like yours. He sips on his coffee, eyes watching as you stuff another bite into your mouth. “I’ve got many secrets, Darlin.”

You laugh, mouth full of fruit and cream. “You’re an open fucking book, Miller.”

”I think I could surprise you several times over.” He chuckles. Something sparks behind his eyes like he’s actually keeping something from you. You’ll figure it out. You always do. 

“These are delicious, Joel, but if I take another bite, I’m gonna be sick.”

Joel frowns. “You feeling okay? You don’t have a fever do you?” He presses his fingers to your forehead before you can roll your eyes. 

“Anxiety.”

Joel nods. “You’ve got a little-“ He motions to his mouth.

You cock your head to the side brain not picking up on the obvious signals. He sighs in mock exasperation. Reaching forward, he wipes the whipped cream from your lip with his thumb, pressing the excess to his mouth. The moment catches you off guard, something stirring in the back of your mind as you zero in on the thumb pressed to his lips. 

“You should go get ready.” He says as if nothing happened, taking your plate. “We need to leave in an hour.”

You nod, pushing back from the counter. The weight of the day at hand keeps that moment from playing over and over again on a loop.

”Daddy,” Sarah says. “Isn’t it time for school?”

”You’re going to stay here with Nathaniel and Miss Lacy today. Your aunt and I have some things we have to do.”

”Oh,” Sarah nodded. “Uncle Tommy things?”

You stop, sharing a look with Joel. You’ve tried your best to keep Tommy’s troubles from the kids, but it’s inevitable. Sarah is almost 6 after all. She’s always been incredibly perceptive and observant. 

“Daddy?” Nathaniel asks, looking around. Your heart breaks a little bit. 

Your mind wanders. When will he get to see Tommy again? 

Joel takes the lead when you arrive at the courthouse for which you’re grateful. You’re both dressed in nice clothing. High heels clack beneath you. A tie reaches around Joel’s neck. You hold Tommy’s suit in a garment bag as a guard leads you to an office-like room. Tommy sits at a table with his layer from last night and another man you don’t recognize. They seem to be deep in a serious conversation. 

All three men turn as you enter, making you feel like you’re in the wrong place. You can’t tell if Tommy is relieved to see you or not. A pit forms in your stomach, like you’re not going to like the outcome of this meeting. 

“What’s going on?” You ask. 

The door clicks shut behind you as Joel’s scent creeps around you.

”We’re talking.” Tommy says. 

“About?” You press. 

Tommy sighs, unable to meet your eyes. “A plea deal.” 

You bite your lip, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. This is easier. It’s probably better in the long run, but you’re not ready to face the music. You prepared for court, not a plea deal. Not for Tommy to admit guilt with a stroke of a pen, not a judge in sight. 

“What’s in it?”

”Baby…” Tommy pleads like he wants to make amends right now. 

“What are you signing us up for, Tommy?”

“Two years and a half years. Probation after that.”

You inhale sharply. 

“It’s a good deal,” The man you’ve never seen says. “He’s looking at at least twice that if this goes to court, and he will be convicted if this goes to court.”

You look to Tommy’s lawyer for confirmation. He doesn’t make it obvious but gives you a solid nod. 

“You were about to sign it.” You look at your husband. It’s not a question. 

“Yeah.”

”I’d have appreciated it if you had talked to me first,” you say. 

“You’d have told me to sign it.”

You nod, barely keeping the tears at bay. “Yeah.”

The DA holds a pen out to Tommy. Tommy looks back at you for final permission. You give it, watching that expensive ass pen glides across the paper with Tommy’s chicken scratch of a signature. Your heart breaks with each stroke, crumbling a little more as he dots the I and crosses the T.  

Joel places a hand on your shoulder. The heat spreads, anchoring you to the moment, keeping you afloat as you stare down the barrel of being a single mother yet again. 

Tommy slides the paper back to the DA. He looks them over, tapping them against the table with a satisfied nod as if a family hadn’t been torn apart. 

“You have about 30 minutes before they come to get him.”

”That’s it?” You ask. “We can’t even take him ourselves?”

The DA shrugs like he’s being generous, igniting a deep hatred of him inside you. You don’t even know his name. He holds up the papers before sliding them into his briefcase. “Terms of the plea deal.”

You clutch your fists as he walks out of the room. Tommy’s lawyer slips out with him, and then Joel, leaving just you and Tommy. 

He stands and you finally realize it’s all happening again. You’ll be alone, worrying about your husband though this time for different reasons. 

“Baby, I-” He steps towards you. You don’t move offering zero indication that you register Tommy’s movements. 

He reaches for your hands, but you pull them back. “You weren’t supposed to take the Bonnie and Clyde thing seriously.” 

You fight back tears, turning so he can’t see them. “Pretty sure they both died.”

A humorless laugh leaves your body as you collapse onto a couch, holding your head in your hands. 

Tommy kneels in front of you, slowly peeling your hands from your face, taking them into his. Despite it all, you feel yourself melting into his familiar touch. It only confirms what you are beginning to fear. It doesn’t matter what Tommy does, you’ll always be here waiting for him. He is the love of your life and you would burn the world down to look into his sweet brown eyes and feel his skin against yours. 

You look at him through blurry eyes, sniffing back the congestion gathering in your sinuses. He gives you that crooked smile you love so much, and you feel better despite the weight bearing on your shoulders. The past three years have aged him ten. You suppose time has done the same to you.

Slowly, he presses his lips to your hands. “I know I fucked up. If-” He pauses, swallowing. His thumb plays with the thin gold band on your left hand. “If you’re not waiting for me when I get out I understand.”

You squeeze his hand. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

Tommy snorts. “Easily? Just last week you were yelling at me for putting you through hell.”

“Yeah, well…” You run your fingers through his black curls as you sniff back your tears. “You kinda hold my heart in your hands, Tommy Miller. I don’t think I could get it back if I tried.”

He smiles at you. You lean forward, pressing your lips to his. His hands creep up your thighs as he rises to his feet. Your back collides with the plush back of the couch as your fingers tangle in his long hair. Tommy presses his tongue into your mouth, a smile growing across your face. This is the first taste of your Tommy you’ve had in months, the one you fell in love with. 

The door opens, and before Tommy can pull away, Joel’s gruff voice echoes through the room. “Prospect of going to jail really puts you two in the mood, huh?” 

Heat surges to your cheeks. You’re not sure why. You and Tommy had been caught in much more compromising positions throughout your relationship.

“Gotta get what I can while I’m still a free man.” Tommy grins at his big brother, pressing another exaggerated kiss to your lips. Joel’s eyes move to the corner of the room. Your smile feels a little more forced after that. 

Your thirty minutes fly at lightning speed. They take Tommy before you’re ready. Any energy you gain from Tommy’s affection is drained the moment he’s led out of sight. You barely catch the look he gives Joel.

”Take care of them.”

Joel nods, gripping his brother’s shoulder. There’s a silent exchange between them. “Take care of yourself.”

 A clerk goes over everything with you and Joel. You’re given a strict list of items you can drop off for Tommy at the prison. You don’t process a word, the weight of it all falling on top of you. You came to the courthouse today expecting an arraignment and bail, not to be kissing your husband goodbye for the next year and change. It feels unfair like something was taken from you. 

Joel is the one who keeps it together. He always keeps it together. He asks the questions and makes note of the important things. He secures the horde of important documents held limply in your hands. 

When the clerk says your name for a second time, or maybe a third, you’re not sure, it snaps you out of the fog. Joel’s eyes are sympathetic as he holds out a pen. His single nod tells you he has all the information in his head. You can sign. You don’t have to think. You sign as flashes of Tommy doing the same filter through your vision. 

The pen drops to the table as you push back headed straight for the nearest exit. You feel like you’re in a dream. Joel catches up, tucking everything you forgot under his arm. He grabs your elbow, steering your aimless body in the right direction. He doesn’t ask if you’re okay. He knows the answer. 

You feel like a toddler, wandering and lost, relying on Joel’s firm grip to get anywhere. He opens doors and boots you into his pickup, patting the door once it’s closed. The car is warm from the sun. You fumble with the seat belt, but Joel’s calloused hands are there, guiding your weary bones. 

The ride is silent. You basket in the warm sun, head pressed to the window with your eyes closed. The world feels so far away, but you’re extremely tuned into the heat of the sun, the rumble of the truck on the shitty roads, the blinking indicator light, and Joel’s listless tapping on the steering wheel when the vehicle draws to a stop from time to time, toeing the line between consciousness.

This is just a dream, right? You’ll wake up soon and Tommy will be behind you, drawing random patterns around your stomach hip, or thigh. The past year of your life and the past 12 hours have just been the world’s longest nightmare. That’s all. 

The truck lurches to a stop. The engine turns off with a distinct click. Your eyes blink open slowly. Your stretch out, toes curling in your dress shoes. Joel’s tie lays haphazardly on the dash. His cuffs are unbuttoned, pushed to his elbows, and the top couple of buttons of his dress shirt are undone. He still looks out of place in his dress attire, but a little more like himself. He hadn’t dressed this nicely for your and Tommy’s courthouse wedding. 

Your eyes drift out the windshield. A neon light reflects off your irises. This isn’t home. You look at Joel. “Why are we here?”

His seat belt comes undone with a click, snapping back. “We’re going to go in there and get drunk off our asses.”

”It’s the middle of the day.”

Joel raises an eyebrow at you. 

”Can we just go home?”

”No.”

”Why the fuck not?”

“Because we have a sitter all day, and you deserve a night before the weight of the world falls back on your shoulders.”

”Joel.” You want to go home and crawl in bed.

”This is three times longer than his deployment.” The statement hits you square in the chest. “You need this. Give yourself today. If you don’t do it now, you never will.”

You sigh, staring down the flickering neon in front of you. He’s right. You know he is. You might be exhausted, but it’s tempting. When was the last time you let go? Maybe that one good month you had after Tommy got back? When it was all making up for lost time and shit. 

“We’ve got a sitter for the whole day,” Joel says. “My treat.”

You inhale deeply, allowing the memories of drunken nights past to fill your brain. You can feel the thrum of alcohol already. You haven’t cut loose in a long time unless you count the nights spent at home alone drowning away the world after you’d tucked your son in for the night. 

Your fingers press the red release button of your seat belt. The metal buckle hits the window. “Fuck it. Let’s go.”

Joel smiles, dragging you inside.  

Taglist: @pamasaur @alltheotps @rizzraa @moel-jiller @misstokyo7love @justagalwhowrites @pedritosgfreal

[petitemistletoe]

Tutor

Pairing: James Potter x Reader

Warnings: smut, angst

Word Count: 3.2K+

“Mr. Potter, I’d like to talk to you about something,” Professor McGonagall called from her desk as everyone was filing out. James had to stifle a groan as he exchanged a look with Sirius before making his way to the professor’s desk. It was his last class before dinner on a Friday and he was starving and wanting to get pissed with the marauders. 

“Yes Professor?” He asked, hoping he didn’t sound too eager to leave. 

“Your grades this past year have slipped, Mr. Potter. You’re a very talented wizard but I’m afraid this year you’ve become more focused on Quidditch than your studies.” Professor McGonagall gave James a disapproving look over her glasses. 

“Oh yes, it’s been a bit of adjustment now that I’m captain but I’m confident we’ll crush Slytherin in the tournament.” James said eagerly. 

“Mr. Potter you are not listening. If you do not get your grades up you will not be allowed to play.” McGonagall sighed and took off her glasses. “You know there is nothing more I would enjoy than watching my house win the Quidditch cup. Now, I’ve found a tutor for you to help you in your area of weakness: potions.”

“Moony? Evans?” James asked hopefully. 

“No.” McGonagall shook her head. “You have a potions exam in two weeks. If you are able to get an A or above you will be permitted to play.”

“I can’t believe you have to have a tutor! It’s inhumane!” Sirius protested after James explained everything over dinner.

“It’s just tutoring, Sirius,” Remus said with an eyeroll, “Who’s tutoring you anyway? Evans?”

“I wish. McGonagall didn’t mention who. I’m supposed to be in the library tomorrow at ten in the morning.”

“Ten! On a Saturday? Inhumane!” Sirius repeated. Then he looked down the table and called, “Oi! Evans! Why aren’t you tutoring Prongs in potions?”

“Tell the whole hall why don’t you?” James grumbled, laying his down on the table. 

“What?” Lily looked over at the boys with an already bewildered expression. “I’m tutoring a second year Hufflepuff in Transfiguration tomorrow.”

“Are you failing potions, James?” Mary chuckled. “Not failing,” James said, not moving his head from the table, “but I need to be doing better.”

“Who’s tutoring you?” Marlene asked. 

“Don’t know.” 

“What if it’s Snape?” Peter asked, a little fearful.

“Oh that would be perfect.” James hit his head on the table. 

“Oh god, I’m so hungover.” James said, hitting his alarm with his eyes shut. 

“Shut up!” Peter groaned, curling his pillow around his head. 

“Both of you be quiet! I can’t get hard with you both talking.” Sirius yelled from Remus’s bed. 

“Sirius!” It sounded like Remus had punched Sirius as Sirius groaned and then fell through the curtain, holding his nose. 

“Why is your alarm going off anyway?” Sirius asked, standing up and covering his dick with one hand and his other hand still on his nose as he shuffled to the bathroom. 

“Put some clothes on!” Peter groaned, turning so his face was pressed into his mattress and his pillow was over his head. 

“I have tutoring today,” James groaned, putting on his glasses and trying to see how long he had until his tutoring session started. It was ten fifteen and James felt like his brain was pulsating inside his head. 

“Aren’t you going to be late?” Remus called from his bed. 

“No, no. I still have a quarter of an hour before I have to go.” James let his head hit the pillow again. 

“I thought you said your session was at 10?” Remus stuck his head out between the curtains of his bed. 

“No, 10:30. Right?” James started to feel a pit of dread form in his stomach. 

“You said 10.” Peter shook from underneath his blanket. 

“10!” Sirius called from the bathroom. 

“Fuck!” James shot out of bed and pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweater. “Padfoot!” He slammed his fist against the bathroom door, “Get out! I need to brush my teeth!”

At 10:25 James was stumbling into the library and staring around. He was sure that his hair was sticking up every which way as he looked to see where his tutor was. 

He saw you, Sirius’s cousin who the marauders all affectionately called Baby Black, much to your chagrin, sitting at a table in the library, looking over a piece of parchment with a red quill as you twirled a spoon in a cup of tea. 

“Hey! Baby Black,” James said, slamming his hands down on the table where you were, “are you my tutor?”

“You’re late,” you said, “and don’t call me that,” not even looking up from the parchment. You were the same year as the marauders but you had about as much to do with them as you did with the other Black cousins: Regulus, Narcissa, and Bellatrix. You preferred to forge your own path at a school that was seemingly bursting at the seams with your family. Sirius often talked about how you had been the luckiest of all the Black children as your parents, while a little wicked as was Black nature, were the calmest and kindest Blacks aside from any Blacks who had been ex-communicated. Needless to say, even though you were in Slytherin you were nothing like anyone in your family. 

“Sorry, sorry. I have a wicked hangover because I was super drunk last night and-”

“Just sit down,” you cut him off, “I’m finishing up grading a quiz from one of my other students in Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

“Sure, sure. Sorry.” James said, sitting down and taking off his glasses. He had a terrible headache and felt like his eyes were going to pop out of his head. 

“Alright, so potions? What do you need to brew amortentia?” you asked after setting the parchment aside. James took a second to look you. He couldn’t help thinking you were gorgeous: the way your lips were slightly parted as you read, the way you twirled your ring on your finger as you spoke, the brightness in your eyes. He was sure you had a great smile too, but he had yet to see it. 

“Uh, right, love potion. Rose thorns and petals, powdered moonstone, pearl dust, ashwinder eggs, uh chocolate?” James looked at you as your eyes narrowed. 

“Chocolate? God really doesn’t give with both hands, does he?” You shook your head.

“Tulip nectar! Pinecones! Fairy dust?”

“Stop guessing. It’s peppermint. You’re more behind than I thought.” 

“Why are you asking about love potions anyway? Got a crush?” James asked, leaning in and looking up at you seductively. 

“First,” you said, pushing James back with your two pointer fingers, “you have to brew amortentia for your potions exam. Second, you smell like whiskey and vomit.” 

“You love it, Baby Black.”

“I will get Regulus to hex you, Potter.” You said with a light shake of your head. You worked with James for the next hour and a half before assigning him some homework. 

“Thanks for all your help, Baby Black. I’ll see you Tuesday?” James tried to send you another winning smile and you shook your head at him. 

“Monday.” You said, pushing your books into your bag.

“I have quidditch on Monday.”

“What are you going to do when you’re done playing for Gryffindor?” 

“Play professionally,” James shrugged, “Marlene’s brother said he could arrange a meeting with the Canons.”

“So that’s it? You’re going to play quidditch for the rest of your life?” You weren’t sure why you were getting so upset about the situation but you couldn’t stop yourself. 

“What’s wrong with that?” James started to get upset too, raising his voice. “Who doesn’t love quidditch?”

“I don’t.”

“How can’t you? Your cousins Regulus, Narcissa, and Sirius all play or played quidditch. Is the sport of the international wizarding world!”

“It’s beneath you.””

“You don’t even know me. You’re just supposed to be my potions tutor.” James snapped. 

“Fine,” you said cooly, “I’ll see you Tuesday, then.” You practically ran from the library. James shook his head and made his way over to the great hall. He tried to search for you at the Slytherin table before he sat at the Gryffindor table for lunch.

“How was the tutoring session?” Lily asked, stabbing at a piece of lettuce on her plate. 

“Fine. You’ll never guess who it’s with.” James said, looking at Sirius who had been trying to lick Remus’s neck for the past minute. Every time he got close, Remus would snap his fingers up and grab Sirius’ tongue. Sirius’ tongue was currently lodged between Remus’s fingers as Remus read the book that was in his other hand. 

“Who?” Sirius asked, trying to turn but was pulled back by his outstretched tongue, “Let me go!”

“Stop trying to lick me!” Remus said, letting Sirius’ tongue go. 

“Anyway,” Sirius stuck his tongue out at Sirius, “who’s your tutor?”

“Your cousin!” James said with an eyebrow raise. 

“Regulus?” Peter cocked his head.

“Don’t be stupid,” Remus rolled his eyes, “you mean Baby Black don’t you?”

“My cousin is tutoring you? Why didn’t she tell me?” Sirius asked, looking over at the Slytherin table. 

“I have no idea.” James shook his head. 

“Oi! Regulus! Where’s the girl?” Sirius asked, tossing a crumpled piece of parchment at Regulus. Regulus couldn’t have given Sirius a more intense glower before rubbing his nose and saying, 

“Excuse me?”

“Our cousin, Reg. Have you seen her?” Sirius looked at Regulus like he was an idiot. Regulus looked around for a moment and shrugged,

“No idea. I’ll check on her after dinner.” 

“Did you say something to her, James?” Remus asked. Sirius took advantage of this moment of Remus’s distraction to lick him up the neck. 

“Ah ha!” Sirius grinned triumphantly. 

“I’m going to murder you!” Remus said, pulling out his wand. 

“Nevermind,” James rolled his eyes. 

Over the course of the next two weeks, you and James met twice a week for tutoring lessons in the library. One Thursday was just one of those days that was rainy and sleepy and the last day in the week before one of those rare gorgeous three day weekends. It wasn’t a true three day weekend, really, there were no classes on Friday due to a set of makeup exams that were offered to students who wanted to improve their winter exam scores. James was one of these choice students who would hopefully be done once and for all with potions tutoring after the Friday exam. After a full set of classes and an early morning Quidditch practice, all James wanted was to eat dinner and crawl into bed before the weekend ahead of him. Of course, you had chosen today of all days to meet for a final tutoring session before the big potions exam on Friday. 

He was eating dinner when you stopped by the Gryffindor table and sat down next to him.

“What are you doing here?” Sirius asked, shocked by the presence of another Black at the Gryffindor table. 

“I need to talk to James,” you said quickly, “Meet me in the potions classroom in the dungeons for tonight’s lessons.”

“Why the dungeons? What’s wrong with the library?” James asked.

“Slughorn said we could use his classroom so you can fully practice brewing your assigned potions.” You said, getting up from the table, “See you at 8. Don’t be late.” You got up and walked away. James watched you leave the great hall and then sighed, 

“I can’t wait for this to be over.”

“Yeah right,” Remus snorted. 

“What do you mean?” James asked.

“All you’ve talked about these past two weeks is Baby Black.”

“Well yeah. Complaining. She’s annoying.”

“No, not complaining. You can’t stop talking about her. You like her.” Remus grinned. 

“You cannot date my cousin, James.” Sirius said with a hard expression.

“I don’t even like her!” James insisted. Apparently Sirius wasn’t the only Black child that was concerned about you. Regulus stalked over and sat down next to James where you had been only a few moments before. 

“Stay away from my cousin. She’s fragile and sensitive and doesn’t need a rat like you sniffing around her.” He snapped at James. 

“She’s just my tutor! I don’t like her! She barely even tolerates me!” James cried, ignoring Remus’s shit eating grin. 

“I knew it!” Sirius slammed his hand down on the table, “you are trying to fuck my cousin!” 

“Oh my god! I’m leaving!” James stood from the table, looking at the Black brothers. “You two are exactly alike. Why I would ever want to get more involved with this family?” 

“Hey!” Regulus and Sirius said at the same time as Remus cackled. 

“Your cousins are insane,” James said with a head shake as he sat down next to you in the dungeons. 

“You’re telling me.” You muttered. Your hair had been pinned up with your wand stuck through and you pulled your wand out letting your hair fall more freely. You worked with James for the next hour and a half and it seemed like James was going to pass his exam.

“Okay, the last thing I need to do is check on your amortentia, but we can do that tomorrow morning before your exam. Meet back here at eight in the morning.” You replied. You were fanning your neck it had gotten hot in the dungeons after James’ heating potion had gotten a little of hand. You took off your sweater so you were just in a pair of trousers and a thin tank top. James watched a bead of sweat make its way down your neck and into your cleavage.

“Thanks with all your help, Baby Black. You really saved my ass.” He smiled. 

“You worked hard for it, James. No wonder Sirius loves you so much.” You smiled back at him. You had to admit that James wasn’t bad looking at all. He was a bit annoying, the way the Marauders were, but he had a kind heart and easy smile. Before you could fully process what was happening, James was leaning in and kissing you.

“What are you doing?” You asked, pulling away suddenly. 

“I’m sorry! I thought…we were…you aren’t into?” James asked, bewildered. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” You scrambled up and ran out of the dungeon. It wasn’t until you were at the portrait in front of the Slytherin dormitory that you took a minute to stop and let your fingers ghost over your lips. You felt a small smile crawl onto your face and thought about how sad it would be to no longer have an excuse to see James. 

“Where’s Moony?” James asked as he burst into the dormitory. 

“Sucking my dick.” Sirius called from his bed. “Ow! Fuck Moony enough with the teeth!”

“What do you need James?” Remus asked, sticking his head between the curtains. 

“Can you talk? Privately?” 

“Yeah, just a second. I left my notebook by the charms room today. You can walk with me.” Remus got dressed and walked alongside James to the charms classroom.

“So what’s going on, Prongs?” Remus asked. 

“Okay, first, you can’t tell Sirius I told you this.” James started. 

“You’re freaking me out, James.”

“I kissed baby Black.” James blurted out. Remus stopped dead in his tracks and looked at James. 

“You did what?”

“I know! It’s just…she was so nice. And she’s so warm but still sassy and she hates quidditch and doesn’t worship me or anything. And it was hot in the dungeons and she had her sweater off and I don’t know what happened but I kissed her and she ran from the room. Oh god, Moony what did I do?” James was rambling. 

“Okay. Alright. Listen. Did she say she was going to tell anyone?” Remus asked. 

“She didn’t say anything.” 

“You better hope she doesn’t tell Sirius. Or worse, Regulus. You should talk to her.” Remus shook his head. 

“I have to see her tomorrow for her to check my potion before the exam. I’ll talk to her then. Will you come with me?” James felt his stomach flip at the thought.

James felt like his feet were cinderblocks as he made his way to the dungeons with Remus. You were there, in that damn tank top again, looking at the potions. 

“Oh good,” you looked up and gave him a shy smile, “you’re here…with Remus.” Your smile faltered. 

“I’d like to talk about-” James started but you cut him off. 

“Let’s just look at your potion.” Your words were clipped. 

“Alright, Remus why don’t you smell it first and let us know what you think and we can make sure it smells different to everyone.” James said. Remus bent down and took a large sniff of the bubbling liquid in the cauldron. 

“Smells like chocolate, parchment, leather, vinyl. Sirius. Nice job, James.” Remus sat back a little and smiled. “After you Ms. Black.”

“Alright,” you took a large sniff, “Clean cut grass, butter beer, hot Yorkshire pudding.”

Remus was stifling a smile, “And you James?”

“Firewood, a freshly sliced apple, vanilla, and…the Black estate? That smells like you.” James looked up at you confused. 

“I’m going to leave you two alone.” Remus stalked out of the dungeons, sending James a knowing look on his way out. 

“You smelled me in the potion,” James grinned. 

“You must have brewed it wrong.” You shook your head but you couldn’t hide your smile either. 

“You hate quidditch.”

“You’re a stupid jock.”

“You undress me with your eyes every time you see me.”

“You are Sirius’ best friend.”

“You are Sirius’ cousin.”

You grabbed James by the back of the neck and kissed him hard. James’ hands found your waist and started pull at the hem of your tank top. You took the tank top off and laid back on the desk. 

“You’re so beautiful.” James muttered, taking his shirt off too. He sunk down his knees and buried his face between your thighs. His tongue was as long as it was sharp and it darted in and out of your opening. 

“Fuck,” you murmured, your hands in James’ hair as you practically road his face. You came on his tongue before pulling him back up to kiss you. James unbuckled his belt and pushed himself inside you. You started to move your hips but James stopped you.

“Just,” he sounded strained, “I need to adjust for a moment. I’m so close, already, baby.” 

“Oh my god,” you grinned, pulling James closer so his forehead was against yours. James nodded and started to move. He pushed himself in and out of you and you were both moaning, especially when James reached a hand between your bodies to rub your clit. You saw stars as you came with James pulling out and cumming on your stomach soon after. He laid on top of you as you both tried to catch your breath. 

“Potter, what the fuck are you doing?” A new voice said. You and James turned to see Regulus and Sirius standing in the doorway of the potions classroom. 

“Oh Prongs, we’re going to have to kill you.” Sirius shook his head sadly.

“Oh fuck, you’re Sirius’ cousin.” James could only bow his head. 

[bipanicoverthegravessiblings]

We can have Andrew and Ashley (separately) dating reader who is a singer/guitarist in a Punk rock band, who has a somewhat cynical, indifferent personality but is quite kind when you get to know her.

But there is a problem, she is possessed by a demon and needs to kill or drink human blood to survive (just like that movie Jennifer Body feat. Megan Fox)

Friggin love Jennifer’s Body- hell yeah anon!

Ashley and Andrew Graves x Possessed Punk Rock!Reader

Andrew Graves

You met Andrew after he went to watch your band play. He came up to you after the show and started up a conversation with you.

You were the best part of the band in his personal opinion

You’d heard this all before, and like always you went along to get on his good graces

Honestly- you had full intention of eating him until he started some playful banter with you

You both just bounced off of each other so well

“Alright, so- it’s the zombie apocalypse and you have to team up with 2 other people at this bar.” Andrew was leaning against the bar, he phrased it like such a serious question, “Who you picking?”

“Hmmmm…” you hummed, turning your attention to the cluster of people, “Probably that guy-“ you nod towards one muscly frat dude chatting with his equally muscular friends, “He looks like he could punch some zombies. Dumb and fearless, ya know?”

Andrew chuckled, “Ahhh, so you’re into beefy dudes, huh?”

You gave him a deadpan stare before rolling your eyes and smirking a little, “Nah, if anything he’d be a sacrifice to the undead horde. I’m more into sickly looking emo dudes.”

A small blush painted Andrew’s cheeks, he turned to look at the crowd, “Soooo- does that mean I’m on your apocalypse team?”

“Not in the slightest,” you leant back on the bar stool, “It’s about survival, and no offense hun- but you’re usually the first to die in those kinds of movies.”

Andrew dramatically clutched his chest, giving a faux harmed expression. You playfully shove him to wipe the look off his face. He laughed a little as he sat back up in his stool.

“Alright, alright-“ you wave your hand towards him, “You can join my apocalypse team. We’ll team up to sacrifice the big dude.”

“You’re too kind.”

He was fun to talk to, what can ya say?

You ended up feasting on that frat bro after Andrew left- but not without giving you his number

You two hung out a bit after that- and Andrew became a regular at your shows

You even started inviting him to rehearsals to sit and watch

You make him a shirt with the band’s name on it as a joke- but he wears it constantly.

He’s a dork, but soon enough…he becomes your dork <3

Which is why you were nervous to tell him the truth about you

“….I’m sorry you’re what?”

You winced at his words. There- was no easy way of telling him this, but- you don’t know. It feels like the right thing to inform your partner you’re actually possessed by a demon and crave human flesh and blood.

“I’m possessed by a demon,” You turn away from his, rubbing your arm anxiously, “It- happened when I was 17. Some fucks tried to offer me as a sacrifice to a demon to make them famous and- well, now we know the reason virgins are sacrificed for demon deals.”

Andrew blinked, and a silence fell between you two. He turned away from you, his eyes fixed on the ground,

“….you know my sister is friends with a demon.”

You scrunched up your nose in confusion, turning to give him a look of “What the fuck?”

He held his hands up defensively, “Hey I don’t know! What else was I supposed to say?!”

“I don’t know!” You threw a throw pillow at him, “You’re the first person I’ve told!”

Andrew caught the pillow, placing it gingerly on his lap, “Well- I’m not a stranger to this whole…demon stuff. Can’t say I’ve dated one though…”

Your eyes widened. You looked at him in disbelief, “You- still want to date me?”

“Well- yeah.” He shrugged as if it wasn’t obvious, “You’re not gonna eat me- I’d assume at least.”

“Nah,” you gave him a small smirk, “Not enough meat on ya.”

You received a pillow to the face in response to that. You broke out into soft laughter, Andrew shortly joining in. This…went better than you thought it would.

From then on Andrew helped you with finding food. He’d scan for potential meals at your shows and direct you to them after.

He seems way too experienced in this sort of thing

Ashley Graves

That relatable moment when you’re about to feast on this guy, but this cute goth chick was about to sacrifice him to a whole other demon <3

After a show you had planned on following this couple and devouring them both- you were really hungry

Low and behold- the girl led her date into the woods and summoned a whole ass demon to take his soul

She noticed your presence as she was getting ready to move the body and-

“….sup.”

She said that as if trying to move the soulless body of a grown ass man in the middle of the woods was the most normal thing in the world. You were- dumbfounded honestly. Apparently you were staring for too long, as the woman dropped the corpse’s arms and crossed her own,

“You gonna scream- or are we going to be chill about this?” She tapped her foot as she glared at you, “Don’t make me offer another soul to my friend.”

“Ha! Good luck with that-“ you stepped out of the bushes, shaking off any leaves that stuck to your pants, “Your friend would just be confused why you’re offering them their own kind.”

She looked you up and down, her eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“Yeah- look. I’m possessed- and I was following you and that boy toy of yours to have some dinner.” You pointed to the corpse between you two, “So I’ll do you a favor and get rid of this body for you.”

The woman rubbed her chin, looking down at the body. She then grinned deviously, “Hmmm…you mind if I join you?”

Your eyes widened. Was- she being serious? Did she want to chow down on this guy with you?

Apparently she could notice your confusion and shrugged, “Well I was going to eat him anyway. Was thinking of grilling him- some salt, oregano, paprika as seasoning. Help me carry him and you’ve got yourself a 5 star meal.”

This has to be the most insane woman you’ve ever met. Is this what love feels like?

“Sure thing-“ you reach down, hoisting the man’s arm around your shoulder, “Names Y/N.”

“Ashley Graves.” Ashley made no effort to help you carry the body, just leading you along as your struggled.

And thus started a beautiful friendship!

Ashley sacrifices a soul, you two eat the soulless body. Win-Win!

As you hang out more outside of your hunts, Ashley learns about your band

She’s not happy that you have friends outside of her, but she goes to your show anyway

She claimed that everyone sucked except for you

“We should just eat them,” Ashley suggested, her chin rested on your shoulder.

You glance at her before speaking, “No can do- I’m not eating my band mates.”

“Fine-“ she huffed, shoving you away from her, “Then I will!”

“Ashley- No-“ you groan, turning around to look at the currently pouting woman, “Look, I have a life outside of you ya know- don’t like it, don’t come to the shows. Nothing wrong with keeping things professional between us.”

Ashley went quiet at that. She hugged herself, turning away from you.

“…what if I don’t want to be professional?” She muttered, just loud enough for you to catch.

You blinked down at her, “You- what?”

“We get each other! I want to keep doing this, and I don’t want those ‘bandmates’ getting in the way.” She glared up at you, “You…You like me too, right?”

You did. You’d be lying if you didn’t find her general unhinged-ness hot, but you couldn’t kill your band.

“Hey, look-“ your voice went soft as you took Ashley’s hands into your own, “I…like you too Ashley, but we’re not eating my band. If I’ve been ignoring you for them, I’ll- cancel rehearsal tomorrow so we can go do something. Just us. Sound good?”

A small smile formed on Ashley’s face as she nodded, “Yeah…that’d be great.”

You may be the possessed one here, but Ashley Graves is a whole other level

[unfinishedslurs]

matchmaking gone wrong (steddie)

“So,” Murray says, smarmy little smirk in place. Steve kind of hates him. “How long have you two been dancing around each other?”

“What?”

“What?”

“Oh, come on, now,” he says. “Everyone can see it. Or, well, maybe they can’t, but I can. Small town boys, both fighting against the odds. Alternate dimensions bring people together in the strangest ways, don’t they?”

“Hey, now,” Steve objects, shooting a panicked glance next to him. Eddie hasn’t moved a muscle since Murray opened his big mouth. His pose reminds Steve of a frightened rabbit, frozen in the eye of a snake. 

“Hey, now,” Murray mimics. “Real eloquent, Steve.” He says Steve like he’s saying something else. If he’s not careful, Steve is going to punch his fucking teeth in.“I gotta say, when I met you, you managed to take me by surprise. I really thought you were gonna be different. Small town rich boy, right? Big house, no parents, thought I knew the type. But you’ve managed to turn it on its head, haven’t you? Still, you’re lonely. Must be nice, having all those kids in your house. Less empty with them around. And Eddie here, too. I bet it’s real nice with him around.”

“Dude,” Steve says, prickling. He doesn’t know what eloquent means, or what that has to do with anything, but he really does not like what this guy is putting down. What business does this washed up mess of a conspiracy theorist have digging into Steve’s personal life? He chances another look at Eddie, who has unfrozen in favor of straightening up and glaring at Murray. 

“What the fuck do you know?” he spits, vicious in the way he only ever is when he’s defending someone. Steve is touched, really. 

“I know a lot,” Murray says, smile growing ever wider. “Like that you sleep in his bed, even though there’s…what, three perfectly good guest rooms here?”

“Two,” Steve corrects automatically. “The other one is Max’s.” Unofficially, of course, but she sleeps here enough that everyone else knows she’s claimed it. Technically it’s one and a half, given that Dustin is slowly taking over the one next to hers, but Ms. Henderson is actually responsible so he only stays the night occasionally. Robin just sleeps in Steve’s bed with them.

He realizes his mistake when Murray’s smile grows even wider. “Two!” He exclaims. “Two guest bedrooms, and yet you sleep in his bed, wake up next to him, end up with his pillow lines on your face. I bet it’s nice, huh? To have him soothe your nightmares, to fall asleep knowing he’s there. We like Steve, indeed. How could a man possibly resist? Tell me, Eddie, is that handkerchief in your pocket just for show? I’d have thought masochism was more your style.”

“Hey!” Steve barks. Eddie jumps next to him, and Steve puts his hand over his unthinkingly. Murray’s eyes track the movement, but Steve speaks before he can open his mouth. 

“Not cool, man,” he says firmly. Eddie’s hand is trembling under his, and Steve thinks that Murray is lucky that he cares more about comforting Eddie than he does about punching the smug look off his fucking face. 

“What’s not cool?” Murray asks. “Telling you two to get your shit together, for the betterment of us all?”

“You barely fucking know us,” Steve snaps. “There’s no ‘betterment of us all,’ Jesus. You can’t just…you can’t…” he lowers his voice, like he can protect Eddie from hearing it if he tries hard enough. “You can’t just out people, man. You should fucking know better.”

Eddie’s frozen again. Steve doesn’t look at him, instead staring Murray down like a challenge. The man does lose steam with that, wilting like a weed in the heat. “Ah,” he says. “I…ah, hell, I thought you knew.”

“What I know doesn’t mean shit if he’s not the one who told me,” Steve says. Eddie makes a sound, slowly sliding his hand out from under Steve’s. Steve lets him, resisting the urge to grab it back. He knows Eddie won’t run away from him, even if he wants to. “And what if you’d been wrong about me being cool, huh? Seriously man, aren’t you supposed to be smart or something? Act like it.”

Murray opens his mouth again, but Eddie interjects. “As fascinating and eye opening as this has been,” he says, clapping his shaking hands together, “I need to be gone, like, before this conversation ever happened. I appreciate your attempt to get me into golden boy’s pants over here, really, but, uh, yeah. I think the whole being straight thing kind of puts a damper on that, don’t you?”

“You’re straight?” Steve blurts out, hurt and embarrassed all at once. Well, shit, there goes whatever Steve thought they were hurtling towards. And after Steve just confessed he thought Eddie was gay. Is that discrimination? He’s going to kill Robin, dammit, she’s the one who pointed out Eddie’s hanky in the first place. 

“What?” Eddie asks. “No, you are.”

“I am?”

“Yes!”

“Uh,” Steve says, extremely confused. Is Eddie coming out as straight for him? He’s pretty sure this is supposed to go, like, the opposite way. “Since when?”

“Since—“ Eddie’s mouth drops open. “I thought since always, Harrington, what the fuck?” 

“Me what the fuck?” Steve sputters. “You what the fuck! You thought I was straight?”

“Of course I did!” Eddie throws his hands up. “You’re, like, the epitome of straight jock!”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve says. “Because my painted nails and affinity for sucking cock scream heterosexual man.”

Affinity might be a stretch given that he’s only ever sucked one dick in his entire life, but hey, a little embellishment never hurts. He wasn’t awful at it. The painted nails weren’t actually his choice, either, thanks to El’s killer puppy eyes, but still. He’s been blatantly flirting with Eddie for months now. Would it kill him to notice?

Eddie doesn’t seem to have a response for this, mouth opening and closing without sound. 

“Well,” Murray says at last. Steve and Eddie both jump, having completely forgotten about him. “I guess you needed my help after all.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Steve says, rounding on him. “I don’t need your help for jack-fucking-shit, alright? I am a grown-ass man. I am not repressed, I am not in denial, and I am not thanking you for this. You messed up my plan!”

“Your plan?” Eddie asks. 

“Your plan,” Murray repeats, amused. 

“Yes, my plan,” he hisses. “You’re not smarter than everyone else just because you don’t like the government, asshole. None of us like the fucking government, we’re just not about to go off the rails and become total shut-ins about it. We fucking get it, you’re lonely and have no friends. We don’t need you to tell us our own business for us, okay? You want to talk about getting help? Go to a fucking AA meeting and leave us alone.”

The skin around Murray’s eyes tightens. Steve might feel bad, if it weren’t for the fact that he’d fucking outed Eddie. Mistake or not, it doesn’t matter that Steve already knew if Eddie wasn’t ready to fucking tell him. 

Eddie’s hand on his arm stops him from saying much worse. 

He doesn’t turn around, just stares Murray down like a warning. Murray looks back at him, seemingly unimpressed, but Steve can see shame in the line of his shoulders. There’s apology in his eyes when he breaks Steve’s gaze to glance at Eddie. 

He’s not a bad guy, Steve knows. Joyce tells them fondly about how he helped her and Hopper get their shit together. How they’d both be Russian chow ten times over if it wasn’t for him. Nancy, too, has some good things to say about the guy. He was the one who helped her get word out about Barb’s death. He helped her get with Jonathan too, even if that didn’t exactly work out. 

And it’s not like he blames Murray for Nancy cheating on him. She’s her own person, and makes her own decisions, even if they’re shitty, hurtful ones that he’s still not sure he’ll ever fully get over. 

Jonathan said it best, once. He’s weird, and nosy, and annoying, and I don’t really like him. But I think he really just wants to help, in any way he can. Plus he’s a really good cook. 

Steve breaks.

“Just get out of my house, man,” he says, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Joyce will be happy to host you for the night, they’ve got a spare room there. Tell her my house was too ‘rich kid’ for you, or something. But you’re not staying here anymore.”

Murray nods, accepting this at face value. He gets up from the table, pausing to snag the vodka. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry,” he offers, and disappears before either of them can reply. 

“So,” Eddie says, after a considerable length of silence. His voice shakes slightly. “That was, uh, enlightening.” 

He huffs a tired laugh. “That’s one word for it,” he says, finally turning to look Eddie in the eye. He’s shifty, eyes flitting around the room, hands playing out guitar chords against the counter. Steve takes one in hand. 

Eddie stills, finally looking at his face. Steve won’t force eye contact, but he needs to know Eddie’s focusing on him and not whatever shitty thoughts are flying across his mind.

“I’m sorry,” he offers quietly. “I didn’t know he’d try that shit with us, when I told Hopper he could stay here.”

Eddie resumes his finger chords. “It’s not your fault he’s an asshole.”

“I know,” he says. “Still, that wasn’t how I wanted this to go.”

“Go? ‘Go’ what? What’s going?”

Steve shuts his eyes. “Us. I wasn’t going to say anything yet. Not until after you told me you were…”

“Oh,” Eddie says quietly. “Right.”

“Yeah.”

“I can get out of your hair, man, if it makes you uncomfortable.” 

“What?” Steve‘s eyes fly open. “No! I’m not kicking you out, what the fuck?”

“You’re not?”

“Literally what part of that conversation made you think that’s where this was headed?” He demands. 

“I dunno, man,” Eddie confesses. “Good things don’t really happen to people like me.”

“And I’m a good thing?” Steve tries to joke, raising an eyebrow. 

Eddie doesn’t take the bait, just briefly meets Steve’s eyes and lowers his voice. “Steve, you’re, uh. You’re kind of one of the best things to ever happen to me.”

“Oh,” falls weakly from his lips. 

“Shit, was that too much? That was totally too much, sorry, I’m not good at this. You can totally kick me out now, fuck, that’s so embarrassing—“

Steve kisses him. 

“Honestly, I’m not that worried about it,” Eddie says, laying with his feet on Steve’s pillow and head hanging off the bed. 

“Really?”

“I mean, like, it was a dick thing to do, but what’s he gonna do? Tell the whole town? They all know about me anyway.”

Steve kind of shrugs at this, because as much as he wishes it weren’t true he’s right. He’s walked past fag sharpied on Eddie’s locker enough times to know that unlike Steve, he never really had the luxury of hiding it. 

“People always just knew,” he tells Steve. “Don’t know how, don't know why. I’m not sure I‘ve ever actually come out to anyone except Wayne, and that was more of a bitter, self-loathing explosion than anything. It backfired, obviously. Instead of kicking me out, he told me he loved me and I cried so hard I threw up. Totally embarrassing. But even with Wayne…I didn’t have to. It’s like it was tattooed on my forehead, or something. Too soft, too close with other boys, too obvious. So I leaned into it. Learned to fight, ‘cause getting beat up might end in something worse. Let my freak flag fly, let ‘em focus on the DND and the devil worshiping because somehow that was better than being queer.”

Steve, who’d also known about Eddie long before Eddie had told him, bites his tongue. 

“I think he’s safe,” Eddie finishes with a nod. “He really did seem like he wouldn’t have said anything, if he’d known I hadn’t told you. Which is hilarious to me, by the way, because I’d just kind of assumed I didn’t have to so you might have just waited forever. Plus I think he and Hopper have, like, a vibe.”

Steve chokes. “A vibe?”

“They’re not fucking,” he clarifies, “but they have fucked, yanno?”

“You’re fucking with me, right?”

“Nah, man. I bet that’s why Hopper asked us to host him, instead of offering up his spare room immediately. Your ex and your new squeeze living together?” He whistles lowly. “Awkward.” “I don’t want to know this,” Steve declares, flipping face first into his pillow. He pushes Eddie’s stinky feet away from his face, ignoring his squawk. “Why would you give me information? Now I have to look Hopper in the eye knowing that his taste in men is Murray.”

[ghostsvacuumcleaner]

Salvatore | 2.8k

ao3 | masterlist ✦ Pairing: DI!Leon Kennedy x younger f! reader ✦ Summary: Leon's on a working trip and it has been taking much longer than it should. As he doesn't like to spend much time away from you, he texts you daily, and since you miss him so deeply, you decide to videocall him. ✦ TW: NSFW, !MINORS DNI!, smut, porn with bit of context, explicit, f!reader, little to none f! physical appearence descriptions, masturbation, fingering, age gap mentions, daddy ass Leon

A/N: I have nothing to say in my defense, but that this might have two parts. Cause Leon's flying back home and dunno, you're still horny af, plus I wasn't sure of how to correctly incorporate the song to the post buttt I think Salvatore is my top 1 Leon song. So!

A disgrace of a man he had become ever since he met you, fell under your spell. Leon wasn’t used to staying away from you for this long — the trip was taking longer than expected. A week ago he had flown to Washington for the meeting of annual reports on DSO’s damage control. This type of trip did not usually take more than one or two days, and he had assured you that he would be back by the weekend. He had promised, you made plans and he usually did not breach the promises he made to you; he didn't like to fluster you. You were too good to him, he’d always tell you that. Too good, so good. You wouldn’t complain about his absence, you knew he was a busy man, a well-trained and well-requested agent — your much older boyfriend.

Every time that word danced on your red beautiful lips, he swore to feel a punch in the lower portion of his belly. Was he not too old to be dating in the most vivid sense of the word? To have a girl as young, beautiful, lively as you call someone like him a boyfriend? You liked to say, to recite; it made you delighted to watch the reactions, no: the age difference was never a problem for you.

It was a problem to him in the beginning. Leon resisted; he tried to resist you for longer than he could remember. Weeks maybe. He felt defeated, weak for giving up, but how could he not? When your eyes would met his with that devilish expression, all his control fell to the ground — he was yours.

The room door opened, and he made his way in. It was a spacious room, at least; a quality hotel. You would love that place, he thought. The luxurious furniture, the soft linen and the numerous pillows – the privileged view of the White House. He opened a corner smile as he thought of your reaction if you were there. You were one expensive little thing; before anything else, he took his phone out of his pocket and took a picture out of the window. He sent to your contact, affectionately saved by yourself as bae. 

Your status immediately changed to “online” when your phone rang and you noticed it was his text you were receiving. On the other side of the country, you opened up a foolish little smile lying on your bed. “Like it, doll?” his text said, and your smile grew wide.

You rolled down lying on your belly, and typed your answer.

“Don’t do that to me... I’d sell a kidney to be there with you right now.” you typed, and opened a smile knowing that you had ripped out a sincere laugh from him with your little hyperbole.

Leon laughed briefly. Your mood was indeed extremely funny to him, jokes that sometimes you would have to explain after doing, since the difference between generations was a barrier to the two of you at least in that matter. 

The agent left his already half tired body fall on the armchair that lay in front of the bed, large enough for at least three of him. The blue blazer that decorated his body was quickly thrown aside and he dropped down a few buttons of the white social shirt that came down below, the first portions of his now visible defined chest decorated by the blonde hair that grew around there. As he stretched out to the stand table — a small bar with a few varieties of whisky — and started pouring himself a good cup of Bourbon, his phone rang again. 

After the first drop came down burning through his throat, he opened the latest message you had sent. “Can I call you?”, it was asking.

He licked his lips tasting the taste of alcohol in his mouth, and pressed the FaceTime video call button. It took no more than three seconds for you to respond. 

His eyes were fixed on the screen of his phone. God in fucking heaven, it was a torture to see you like that, he thought. A torture. You were lying on your bed, overlooked; your hair was slightly messy, your pyjamas fell perfectly on your curves, the delicate silk fabric outlined your body like a sculpture drawn particularly to fuck his mind. He opened a smile when he saw the view of you, the lower of his belly kicking in just again. Seeing you like that, laying ever so beautiful, your body so exposed, in a situation like the one he was in right now: unable of touching, unable of even seeing you straight. That was somewhat torture.

“How are you, babe? You look tired.” You asked, resting your face on your hand, a small smile decorating your lips. Leon drank another long sip of his whisky. 

“It’s nothing, doll. This hell of a meeting, is all...” he murmured, crossing his legs and mindfully staring at you behind the screen. “I’m sorry, I won’t make it to the weekend.”

“Oh no...” You shuddered back, your look becoming frustrated in a matter of seconds. “Why are they holding you, did something happen?” You asked furrowing your eyebrows; it was your habit to ask, even if you knew he’d never give an answer.

“You know I can’t talk to you about that, darling...” He murmured, with a slightly defeated smile on his face, and continued, “I’ll be there Sunday night. I promised.” 

You sigh,frustrated and defeated sigh, but agreed. As always, how good you were to him. The silence only lasted for a few seconds before he spoke again in a calm and quiet tone.

“Are you mad at me?”

“I can’t be mad at you. It’s not even your fault...” You argued, shrugging your shoulders quickly, and your eyes focused for a few seconds on the open part of his shirt – a silent invitation. 

“You’re so good to me. I’ll compensate you, I promise.” he said in that soft spoken, deep voice.

He knew exactly what he was doing. He knew exactly what he did to you, how he would put you in your place, how it would make you squirm in want and lust and call for him in your dreams whenever he was that far from you. 

There, dropped in that chair, Leon held the cell phone at the height of his knee, his eyes looking down to where his eyes found him behind the screen; he rested one hand on his face, in the encounter of his jaw with his neck. 

You could follow the well-defined drawings of his chest through the little exposed skin by the already undone buttons, his biceps that seeming to ask to explode out through all that fabric. Your eyes went down through his chest to the path of heaven that made the encounter between his belly and his crotch. You bite your own tongue. If you closed your eyes now, you could perfectly imagine how you would make him twist in your mouth. What a mess.

“You can compensate me now.” you said, after licking your lips. How could you taste the alcohol of his mouth on yours, if the two of you were more than kilometers away? How could he fuck up your head to make himself printed on you like that? 

“How would I do that, babe? Can’t eat you out through the phone.” he smirked, a little smile spreading across his lips noticing your eagerness for him. You were such a fucking fool - couldn’t hide a single feeling, damn.

You slowly flashed, and then got up a little bit by placing your phone in front of your pillow so that you could film yourself without using your hands. Leon raised his eyebrows in surprise when you slowly took your hand through the soft skin of your belly now exposed through the tiny shirt you wore, and began to raise it, gently, almost so slowly that you could now feel his excitement emanating from his look; his eyes burning, his stomach twirling inside in desire. It didn’t take you much to get him on the edge as you so knew from the plenty of times he couldn’t wait for the two of you to get home before fucking the brains out of you against the first car, table or wall he’d see.

“Can’t you? You seem like you are right now.” You smirked, and your hand went further up, beneath the thin fabric of your shirt. You palmed your breast and he could see the shape of your flesh changing as you tightened, more, stronger. Leon stretched his fists, almost able to feel the warm skin of your breasts against him; he could almost feel himself tracing kisses through your neck, bites, leaving marks that you would spend makeup trying to erase. Cupping your breast with his perfect-sized hand, suckling, making you squirm under him.

“Doll,” he said in a slightly alarmed tone. “Don’t do that to me. Don’t torture me like this.” He whispered, his blue eyes like the sea attached to the screen, to you. 

To your body, that he knew: belonged to him. You made that clearer when you started to climb the shirt even further, until you finally crossed it through your neck and threw it to the side. He couldn’t see your face anymore, only your body – you soft breasts, the inviting skin of your belly, the curves that formed your waist, those delicious hips, devilish thighs. You started becoming more and more drenched the more you showed more of yourself to him.

“Please... I need you so fucking much.” you pleaded, your voice muffled by the sounds of your panting.

You liked the obscene look he played at you when he saw you that way. One of your hands continued to massage one of your breasts, your nipples began to express the intensity of your own desire as punctual as they could be; you felt shrinking whole when your free hand began to descend through the lines that surrounded your uterus to the lower belly, inside the tiny, thin short you dared to call a pyjama. 

“You’ll kill me.” He replied licking his lips, his hand reached the remaining buttons of his shirt and he opened it completely. You could see by the emerging volume in his pants that you were not the only one burning in desire right now. Leon grabbed the volume of the bulge in his pants with one hand, in a frustrated attempt to ease the tension; the movement caused his breath to shrink for a moment and he released a low, needy moan. 

“Spread them for me, babe let me see you.” he told you, and you took it in.

You slowly sat on the bed, spreading up your legs as he had asked you, supporting your feet by the bed on the sides of the phone, completely exposed; the fabric of your shorts, alone, was not able to prevent Leon from seeing the perfect curves of your folds, the small well that formed in the fabric in your cunt. He opened up an almost demonic smile. You were not wearing panties.

“Oh, fuck, babe...” He moaned, his hands beginning to shake off the belt of his social pants. “Move it aside for me...” he asked, almost in a flustered sigh, as he let the belt fall freely on the sides of his body and unbuttoned the zipper of his pants with some hurry. At the moment he finally relaxed and released a desperate breath, you could see the perfect format of his cock ever so big, stretching the fabric of his white boxers. You felt your mouth salivate instinctively, and held back a moan of excitement. With one of your arms, you supported your elbow behind you, bending your body back and with your free hand, you pulled aside the central part of your shorts, exposing to him your needy, wet pussy. Your fingers traced a way through your folds to the core of your pleasure - your throbbing and twitching clit. 

Your face flushed in redness as you let your head fall back, but quickly bringing it back to staring at your phone where you could already see Leon’s hard cock twitching through the camera; in addition to your excruciating and burning desire, you could see the entire length, could picture yourself swallowing every inch of his right now. 

“See how you get me? You little evil thing… Play yourself to me, come on, do your

show…” He growled in a hoarse voice, slowly spitting at the glistening tip of his member, reddened by the need and the blood pulsating, his skin burning. “I’d go to that airport and advance my flight just to fuck you, god…” he continued, while his hand rushed from the tip to the base of his cock, spreading his spit through the length and starting to pump in slow alluring movements.

You couldn’t hold yourself from moaning near that man, you could barely hold your breath - your movements became instinctive when you were with him. Whenever he’d be behind you in the kitchen, mornings after a good night out - he’d call himself an oldie and complain about being tired, and the second next proceed to pin you against the counter and eat you up from behind. Just the thought of his tongue against you made you squirm on your own hand, circling movements starting by your index and middle fingers against your sensible clit. 

The muffled moans of his, your panting voice, the little sound he’d make each time his hand ran through his cock - the two of you got lost in the act, you could almost forget there was an entire country between you and him. The way you’d lose it when he started praising you-

“Good… So good to me, come to me, c’mon”, ah. There it was.

Your eyebrows furrowed in pleasure and you instinctively drawn your hand further lower towards your drenched entrance, stretching yourself, feeling the warmth of your walls that so needily called for him. You couldn’t possibly elaborate a single sentence right now, as your head was up in the sky; Leon had taught you to torture yourself. To hold back till you could no more, to try to postpone your orgasm till you felt your own body breaking down, losing conscience. 

He felt himself getting a raw, wild need once he noticed you were in that state he liked to put you in anytime he’d have time to fuck you straight, without a hurry, without the need of being a quickie. Squirming, panting, your body begging you to give in - god. 

His movements started to rush up watching the way your folds glistened through the low lightning of your room, your juices rushing down your thighs, the way you couldn’t watch him without your cheeks looking like burning fire on want and desire. 

His throat closed and he let his head fall back, for a moment, he got uncontrolled and erratic, his movements so strong you could hear a slight hint of pain in his voice, his stomach started flexing and he grabbed on tight to the chair’s arm, your name came out as a growl as he held to the base of his cock, letting out all of his milky seed spread against his chest, that moved constantly and erratically to his heavy breathing. 

Watching him get to his climax was too much for yourself and your personal tactic of torture. As you felt the ravenous feeling of your orgasm start to spread through your thighs, up your belly and down your pussy to the core of your pleasure, you let out, above all things, a soft moan - his name. Your voracious breath got in tune with his, as you bite your lip, your eyes ever so alluring boring into his through the screen, your obscene expression and smile as you pulled your fingers into your mouth and sucked onto them, tasting your own juices, feeling the living proof of your own pleasure.

“You’ll be the death of me.” He muttered, staring into you like a predator while you closed your legs and let out a little content laugh.

-

Leon picked up your call while dragging his baggage through the airport ways to the boarding line. A smile formed across his lips. 

“Little darling, I can’t really talk right now… I’m getting to the boarding line, my flight’s in about thirty minutes.” he argued, to which you just smiled.

“I just called to wish you a good flight, bae, that’s all.” You responded. “I’m waiting for you.”

“No no, don’t do that. Don’t stay awake waiting for me, yeah? I’ll be there soon enough, I promise.” 

“You know that no matter what you say, I’m going to do the exact opposite. Right? Right, Agent?”, you let out a soft laugh.

He sighed, closing his eyes.

“I know.”

[donniesgirlie]

I’ve reacntly just read your “kisses and kips” and I freaking loved it! But I was wondering what if reader reacted differently after the line “Y/n, I'm perfectly capable of determining what I do or don't need. Just go to bed, I'll be there soon.”

As someone who doesn’t really handle “getting in the way” of someone else’s business very well, is terrified if they are bothering someone, specially a special someone (like an s/o) I’d froze up after that line, even if his tone isn’t directly at reader per say, I know I’d probably closed off to the point of leaving and sleeping back to my place out of fear I’ve made Donnie upset and getting in his way. Do you mind making a scenario out off this reaction? If not, you can ignore this request

Thank you!

First request, LET'S GOOOO!!

Me too - I hate the thought of even potentially being a bother😭

Hope you enjoy!

Original

Kisses and Kips - Alternate Version: Donatello x F! Reader

.

"Donnieeeeee~" You pull at the side of the doorframe, swinging yourself in and out of the lab as you draw out his name.

He had told you he'd join you in bed an hour ago under the guise of "5 more minutes." You get why he is working so hard; you do. With the recent uptick of Foot Clan activity, he needed to get the truck up and running again as soon as possible, but goddamn it- you just want to cuddle your boyfriend. You don't think it's too big of an ask, especially considering he's been working on that damn gadget for days now with little to no breaks.

With a sigh and light shake of his head, Donnie sets down his soldering iron. "Yes, love?"

You can hear the edge to his voice, strained from disuse and tilted with frustration. He slips his glasses off to pinch between his eyes, exhaustion clear on his face.

"Come to bed?"

He slips his glasses back on and swivels back to his work. "I can't. I need to finish this."

You let go of the frame and walk over to him. "You've been up over 48 hours, you're clearly exhausted, and you need rest - even if just for a little bit."

"Y/n, I'm perfectly capable of determining what I do or don't need. Just go to bed, I'll be there soon." You know he's not upset with you, but his sharp tone makes your heart drop; you can feel your stomach turning sour and your mouth going dry.

"Oh." You swallow, feeling your eyes start to prick with the threat of tears. Your voice comes out in a whisper as you turn to leave the lab, "okay..."

You know it's stupid, that he's been frustrated with the truck, and you shouldn't take it personally, but logic doesn't quell the small voice in the back of your mind whispering that he's upset with you and that you're smothering him. You calmly walk back to his room, ready to hide your tears in your pillow.

-

It's hours later when Donatello decides to come to bed. The first rays of sun are surely starting to peak over New York's surface, but all he can think about is you.

He knows he was harsh; he knows that you didn't deserve the cutting tone when you were simply expressing your concern for his well-being. He has just been so frustrated with the truck - the nunchucks are sticking and he can't figure out why despite taking them apart three times now, and the grill won't properly shut after shooting manhole covers. Not to mention the various other upgrades that he's itching to start but can't until the main problems are fixed.

He refuses to use that as an excuse, though. You're not his verbal punching bag that he can toss attitude at whenever he's inconvenienced.

So, as much as he hates to wake you, he refuses to go to bed without apologizing.

His heart breaks when his sits on the edge of the bed and looks at your sleeping face. Dried tear tracks streak your face as you grip his pillow.

Reaching a hand out, Donnie gently shakes your shoulder. "Y/n... Honey, please wake up?"

After a few coaxes and prods, you finally stir - slightly curling into yourself before stretching back out. "Dee?" You mutter, eyes slowly blinking open. "What time is it?"

"It's still early," he replies easily, moving his hand to lightly trace his thumb along your cheekbone. "I just didn't want to sleep without telling you that I'm sorry. I was upset because one of the circuit boards was giving me trouble, but I shouldn't have snapped at you; I'm sorry, love..."

"It's okay," you say, scooting closer to drape your arm over his lap, lightly nuzzling your face into his side.

"It's not," Donatello pulls from your hold just long enough to properly lay next to you before pulling you back against his plastron. "You didn't deserve to be yelled at just because I was annoyed."

His hand splays out on your back, rubbing up and down it as he buries his face in your hair.

He feels the soft press of your lips to his collar before your muffled voice mumbles, "Well, I forgive you," against his skin.

[5sospenguinqueen]

JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY - SEBASTIAN SALLOW

IDEA: Sebastian can't shut up about his irritation when he catches Leander flirting with you. And poor Ominis has finally had enough.

(Note: Thought I’d try something new. So this is an incorrect quote mixed with a ficlet)

MC's Version

___________________

(Leander is flirting with MC outside of Potions. MC is oblivious and politely engaging in conversation)

Sebastian: Can we get rid of him

Ominis: Not without cause.

Sebastian: I have cause. It’s because I hate him.

(MC laughs at something Leander said, causing the redhead to grin)

Sebastian: Look at him, throwing himself at her. And he can not pull off my smirk.

Ominis: (rolls his eyes) I wouldn’t know.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Later. During lunch. Ominis and Sebastian are sat across from each other in the Great Hall)

(Sebastian is glaring over at the Gryffindor table, still grumbling about this morning)

Sebastian: I want to go over there and punch his stupid face.

Ominis: (sighs) Or you could just stop being jealous.

Sebastian: Don’t be ridiculous.

(MC walks into the Hall, searching for her Slytherin boys. Leander smiles at the sight of her.)

Sebastian: (under his breath) Oi, don’t smile at my girl, Prewett.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Nighttime. Slytherin Dorms. Sebastian is still moaning. Ominis has his head shoved under his pillow, wanting nothing more than to go to sleep… or talk about literally anything else.)

Ominis: For the first time since you opened your eyes today, will you just stop talking? Either inform her of your rather vast feelings or accept that she is not bound to anyone and can flirt with whomever she pleases.

Sebastian: Well of course she can. It’s people flirting with her that’s the problem. Besides, Leander was the one doing the flirting. And that’s not allowed.

Ominis: Why? Did she look uncomfortable?

(Silence)

Sebastian: (sheepishly, and slightly ashamed that he didn’t check) I don’t know. I wasn’t actually looking at her.

Ominis: Makes a change.

Sebastian: I was wondering what Prewett would look like with my fist in his face.

[izvmimi]

cw: pillow talk, fluff. mature but no explicit smut. reader is a royal associated with house silva. selfship-coded.

For a man who once swore as a child to marry a nun, Asta isn’t particularly chaste when he handles you, not usually, and definitely not now, as he makes sure to dominate every part of your body physically in your increasingly more frequent trysts while taking the time to move slowly and worship it too, in perfect duality. 

And once you’re done, he’s gentle and he is warm - terribly warm, warm where your body clings to his for comfort, warm where he kisses and holds you, warm where he slowly seeps out of your body, warm… you sigh and pull even closer to him, and he presses a kiss to your flushed cheek, before asking, “Are you okay?”

You nod, but Asta reads you easily not just physically but emotionally, turning to press his forehead against yours.

“___,“ he starts, calling your name in the tone that warns you that he’s not unwilling to press until you open your heart, and you swallow hard, your heart pounding again in your chest, no longer from the excitement from lovemaking but from nervousness.

He probably won’t like what you have to tell him, and you blurt it out.

“I haven’t told him yet.”

There’s a short pause, loud in its silence. Asta’s green eyes widen for a moment, and then he inhales deeply through his nose, and you wince, wondering if he’ll finally decide to just let you go, to leave you in your cowardice.

But instead he remains close, letting his arm continue to rest protectively, possessively, about your waist.

“And why not?” He breathes out. His voice is soft, practically a whisper, to put you at ease, even if it’s not an easy question to answer, just as it is not quite that easy for him to ask.

If you tell him, you’re afraid, he’ll immediately storm the estate where you grew up. If you tell him you’re simply hesitant, you’ll break his heart instead, and with these two futures, you remain tongue-tied by your own misgivings. 

What really guides you these days? Love does not drive you to Nozel, only to Asta whose arms you lay in comfortably even in this very moment. Loyalty is not it either… fear, you wonder? Admitting you are afraid to Asta will be heard as a plea to defend you, and while you are thankful for his relentless heart, you do not need to complicate things further.

“I need time,” you murmur softly.

Asta stiffens for another moment and your heart feels as though it will slow to a stop, excuses bubbling in your throat and then choking you dry. But he says nothing more than “Okay.”

And he follows it up, just as quickly with the words “I love you.”

You could cry right now but instead, he kisses you then pulls quickly back, looking at you carefully, fire in his eyes.

“If you need me to, I’ll fight anyone, anywhere. Just tell me where to go.”

You are now the one to be caught stiff, but your lips break into a smile, then slowly, surely into a laugh, which catches him by surprise.

“And just why are you laughing? Do you think I’ll lose?” He’s upright like a board now, a scowl on his face, and he repeats himself. 

“Do you think I’d lose to that pretty boy!?”

Asta’s so fired up, you can only help but laugh even more heartily which only seems to distress him further.

“___!”

You bring yourself up from a sitting position too, blankets low on your lap, to lean forward and kiss his tummy, still warm, soft even with the hard ridges. He’s cute always, terribly so, you think, despite his immense power, despite his unending responsibilities, despite his lofty dreams. Cute enough to think the answer to your dilemma of a distasteful marriage to your royal “relative” is just to punch him really hard in the face until he understands that your love can’t be bought with power or money.

“You’d win and be my hero, and you’d whisk me away on a white horse,” you tease. Asta eyes you carefully, as though deciding whether or not to be annoyed but must eventually decide against it, as he takes your face in his hands and furrows his eyebrows as he gazes deeply in your eyes for a moment, with soft curiosity as he observes your countenance.

“I would.” he reminds you, then presses his lips to yours again. The kiss deepens, until your arms are wrapped around his neck and shoulders, and you’re backed onto the well-slept bed again, pushed into the plushness of down feathers and soft blankets fit for the unwilling, unworthy royal you are. His kisses, his touch, negate all of that - a commoner who renders class and power distinctions moot and meaningless - and you revel in your desire for him.

Sweet, loving, kind, strong, safe - everything you’ve needed and wanted, and been emboldened to cherish and protect.

[stardust-sunset]

Good morning friend I hope you’re having a good day so far! If you have any may I pls request either some Sodapop hcs or Curtis brother hurt/comfort hcs? It’s that kind of day for me 😔 I hope you have a wonderful day ❤️🎞️

aw, thanks!! I’d be more than happy to! 💛

Sodapop headcanons:

He’s absolutely terrified of bugs. He punched a hole in the wall because he saw a spider (Darry was livid)

He is not a picky eater at all. He will eat food that’s been dropped on the floor. He doesn’t give a shit.

Him and Steve steal snacks from the gas station all the time and just go into the back closet and gorge themselves

Soda is either a laughably awful singer or he has a beautiful voice. No in betweens

He walks around his house shirtless constantly like he’s gods giving gift (he kinda is but Pony and Darry get tired of it)

If you think he’s a bad cuddler when he’s awake just wait until he’s asleep. You’re not getting out of his grasp once he’s asleep. Don’t even try. You’re stuck in bed for the night.

He gets hella bloated after eating and he’s mortified by it

He’s loved the song Rockin’ Robin. I dunno why.

He loves listening to music because it helps him focus on smaller things but then he gets distracted

He hates that his eyes are brown and constantly wishes they were blue

He has ADHD

He never touches a drop of alcohol not because he’s scared or anything but because he despises the way it burns his throat

He’s undefeated in burping competitions aside from Johnny (he can be kinda gross ngl)

Sometimes in the midst of a crisis he’ll just drop an absolute pearl of wisdom and then wonders why everyone stares at him like he has two heads

He believes in ghosts and swears he saw his parents’ ghosts once

He’s a lot more affected by the death of his parents than he lets on

He has the fluffiest hair ever when it isn’t greased back. Him and Pony. Darry has courser hair

He’s a whiny bitch when he’s hungry and doesn’t shut up about how full he is when he’s eaten

He unironically says the corniest shit like “uh oh spaghettios’ and “i need to catch some z’s” and shit like that

He enjoys when Pony reads to him even though he doesn’t pay much attention which frustrates Pony a bit lmao

He prefers to cuddle with Pony over Darry because he says Darry’s chest is “too hard and muscular to be comfortable” which insulted both Pony and Darry to an extent

He is the best pillow in the world. He has the softest tummy you could ever imagine (also the loudest though unfortunately)

His insults are actually really creative and nobody expects it from him

He will put eat a steakhouse in a matter of minutes if you set him down and told him to go crazy

We all know he has a skincare routine (or he would if they could afford that shit)

Sometimes he feels like he’s the glue of the three brothers and if he takes a wrong step they’re all gonna fall apart

He gets a golden retriever when he’s moved out and definitely names it Pepsi-Cola or something

Hurt/Comfort:

You can absolutely tell when Pony is upset. He does NOT have. sooner face lmao

He prefers to be reassured by his brothers over anything else because it’s easier for him to gauge that they actually mean what they say

Boy is a stress eater-one time Darey came home and Pony had eaten an entire cake by himself and was absolutely miserable

He usually tends to gorge himself in meals but when he’s anxious it’s hella different

All three Curtis brothers are stress eaters ngl but Soda is by far the worst

Pony doesnt sleep when he’s anxious. He just sits there awake with his thoughts

He has VIOLENT panic attacks-if you try to touch him and you aren’t a member of the gang have fun with that broken nose of yours

He doesn’t mean it but he will scream at you to not touch him if you go to

Pony is a pretty crier but his panic attacks tend to get ugly

He tends to hit himself when he gets anxious too :( Darry has had to restrain him on more than one occasion because he was seriously scared Pony would hurt himself

The aftermath is a bunch of sniffles and hiccups. He doesn’t talk much before or after a panic attack and it takes effort to get him to open up bai ut what’s wrong

Absolutely will not cry in public. No matter of it’s late at night and he’s alone or not. He’s too scared someone will come by and he wants to look tuff

Darry will hold him while Soda massages his belly to ease his anxious tummy (or to help him digest the morbid amount of food he eats when stressed) and they’ll either address what’s wrong or they’ll distract Pony by talking about something they know he likes

Soda is the same way tbh but it’s because he thinks he shouldn’t be allowed to cry

You can always tell when Soda is upset because he doesn’t eat (canon in the book) and he’s also and normally quiet

He locks himself in his room when he’s upset because he doesn’t wanna burden Darry and he thinks because Pony os his little brother he isn’t allowed to be comforted by him

He had many breakdowns over Sandy and lashed out a lot after because he really loved her and he was furious with her and himself

He kind of shuts down and will just stare ahead at nothing when he’s upset and it’s more unsettling because he’s not moving. He’s not playing with his fingers or bouncing his leg. He just looks completely out of it as he sits still

He gets headaches a lot when he’s anxious and will usually turn in early and that’s even more unusual since he’s a night owl and usually restless at night

But all it takes is a hug and he breaks down completely

Darry came home from work once and literally just hugged Soda as a greeting and Soda started bawling into his chest

He mumbles a lot when he cries too, it’s kinda sad

It doesn’t take long to calm him down-a cuddle session from his brothers is all he needs before he’s satisfied again

As soon as he’s done crying he’s just like “can we have dinner now”

Darry is really stoic when he’s upset

You can always tell because his eyes get a lot colder and harder when something is bothering him

He always denies anything being wrong because he’s supposed to be strong and stable but Pony and Soda constantly asking him gets him to explode

Hes just like “YOU WANNA KNOW WHATS WRONG?!” and then goes into a rant about everything that happened

Pony and Soda just learned to listen because Darry doesn’t exactly want reassurance all the time, he just wants to vent

He paces a lot when he’s ranting too and uses his hands an awful lot to talk

If something is REALLY bad they can kinda tell he may need a good cry because his voice constantly cracks and he swallows a lot more and small thing like that

Pony and Soda work with him post book to just have a good cry every once in a while because it doesn’t mean he’s any less than, it just means he needs to let it out sometimes

Soda always gives him back rubs after because the tension from the anxiety gets to him. Pony just talks to him because Pony has a way with words

All three of them enjoy cuddling though and when one is upset, the other two are absolutely making a cuddle puddle where the anxious one is in the middle and the other two just hold onto the person in the middle

WOOF-that was longer than I meant haha/I hope these are good!

[sunshineting]

⭐︎two sides of the same fucked up coin⭐︎     pt2  pt3

toxic!eren x toxic!reader, toxic!reader x Erwin smith

word count- 1418

summary- your boyfriend cheats on you so you decide to cheat back... with his boss ♡

lmk if anyone wants a part 2 with erens reaction hehe ive got some things in mind

minors DNI PLS 🤬

Your relationship with Eren Jaeger was… haphazard, at best. Arguments were a near daily occurrence; yelling, cussing, throwing shit at each other, name calling were all on the table in these bouts. The bad days were really bad. But the good days? Oh, they were amazing. Lavish dates, expensive gifts, treating each other like royalty. You two were so lovey dovey on good days. Everyone had whiplash from the back and forth and just wished you’d leave each other alone.

This time though, Eren took it too fucking far. The two of you had a fight the week prior; you’ve forgotten what it was even about at this point. But, at some point you told him, “If you want a bitch that’s gon bend over backwards for you at your every beck and call, go fuck that thirsty bitch Mikasa!”

And that rat bastard actually did. Oh, you were going to fucking kill him. And her, too, because the bitch knew y’all were together. He’d come back to your apartment in the middle of the night, begging for forgiveness. The guilt ate him up inside and he confessed before you found out because he knew you would. As he told you, your eye had twitched and your fists were balled, but you remained relatively calm. You didn’t stab him like you wanted to, so that was a good sign. All you said was to get out. After he’d left, you screamed, cried, and punched your pillows. You’d even blocked him on everything you could. You didn’t eat for a good two days after that because you were so sick to your stomach about it. But then, you’d gotten an idea. Why should you be agonizing over something he did? He deserves to feel the sickness that you feel. He hurt you. He deserves to hurt, too.

So, here you are. Being wined and dined by Eren’s boss, Erwin Smith. Erwin is a tall, broad man; towering over your short height. He wears a nice button down shirt and well fitting slacks with expensive looking dress shoes. His blond hair is thick and neatly styled; a business man through and through.

“...so, yes business is booming. Would you like more wine?” Erwin had been saying something about his company, but you’d tuned him out. You give him a charming smile and accept the drink. The rest of the night goes by according to plan, having good conversation and even better food and drink. If circumstances were different, you could see yourself actually dating this man. He’s attentive, chivalrous, and handsome as hell. Yeah, he’s about a decade older than you, but fuck it. When he drives you home, you invite him inside.

“I know my apartment is super tiny compared to your house, but I’d really like it if you keep me company for a while. I can make us some tea, if you’d like?” You say, batting your eyelashes up at him. He graciously accepts and steps inside. You make light conversation as you prepare the kettle. After the hot bev, you ask innocently, “Can I kiss you?”

Erwin takes this and runs with it. He rushes into you, bending down to crash his lips into yours. He’s ravenous, kissing you hungrily and running his hands all over your body. His hands are huge and gripping you in all the right places. Your hips, your ass, your tits. You push your tongue into his hungry mouth, attempting to take a little more control, but Erwin isn’t having it. He bites your bottom lip with a light growl.

“You’ve been seducing me all night, young lady. And here I was, thinking you were a good little girl.” His voice is low and heavy with lust. You swallow thickly. Running your hand down his chest, you find yourself at his belt. You bite your lip and gaze up at him into his oceanic eyes.

“Come to my room?” You ask, voice small. Leading him to your room, you can’t help but smile to yourself. If you’d known getting revenge would be this fun, you’d have done it sooner. You’re enjoying yourself with Erwin, but a pang of guilt does strike your heart. The only thing you didn’t like was bringing an innocent man into your issues with Eren. You push those thoughts away and straddle Erwin on your bed. You can feel his thick cock through his pants and you’re eager to get to it. He grinds himself up into you while gripping your hips tightly. A surprised moan escapes from your throat. Your bodycon dress is pulled up to your waist, exposing you from there down. You had worn the tiniest panties you owned, just for this. Erwin groans seeing you like this, exposed and dripping wet.

“You’re sure you want this?” The man questions.

“Yes, please.”

That was all he needed to pull your dress up further. He removes it entirely and marvels at the sight of you. Ruffled hair, pleading eyes, puffy lips. Not even mentioning your soft, curvaceous body. You lift yourself up from him for a moment to allow him to remove his own clothes. His cock is about average length, but it’s deliciously thick. You could tell he’d give you a good stretch.

“Do you have a condom?” You murmur in Erwin’s ear. Erwin pulls one from his discarded pants and slides it on. Sitting back down on his lap, you rub yourself along his length. It feels so good feeling him rub against your swollen clit. He aligns himself at your entrance and with one swift motion fills you. A mewl escapes you as you feel the sudden stretch.

“You feel so good wrapped around me,” Erwin groans. Your gushy walls surround him, sucking him in. Erwin is so broad, you’re bracing your hands on his chest to balance yourself. His blond hair is now disheveled and he has an animalistic look in his eyes. The put together business man of before has been abandoned. Something about it makes your pussy even wetter. You bounce on his cock repeatedly, each motion getting you closer to your bliss. Your legs start to tire, so Erwin grabs the back of your neck and pulls you to lay on his chest. He then grabs you by the hips and fucks up into you. His pace is short and quick; he’s eager to chase his orgasm. His cock hits your most sensitive spot over and over making you cream all over him.

“Don’t stop, I’m so close,” you whine. Erwin’s rhythm doesn’t falter, instead he gets rougher with each stroke. His arms have you caged in, pressed against him. The strength of him squeezing you sends you over the edge. You fall apart on him; pussy fluttering and gushing around his cock. After he feels your orgasm wash away, Erwin flips you over. Your knees are damn near touching your ears the way he’s got you bent up. He’s so deep he’s hitting your cervix. His balls are slapping your ass with every thrust. The room is filled with the lewd symphony of your pussy squelching, heavy breathing, and skin slapping skin.

“I’m about to cum,” Erwin grunts. His pace falters, his hips tremble, and you feel his cock twitch inside you. He lets out a groan with a shudder. He slides out of you slowly then removes the now full condom. You watch him tie the condom off and toss it into the trash.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and we can go to sleep, yeah?” Erwin suggests. He’s such a good guy. Yet another pang of guilt hits you. If things were different, Erwin could definitely be a good partner. Unfortunately, your heart belonged to Eren.

After getting cleaned up, the two of you get comfortable in your bed. Erwin falls asleep first, a light snore coming from him. You take this time to grab your phone and take a few pictures of Erwin’s sleeping form. You make sure to get a good picture so it’s evident who he is and that you’re with him.

In the morning, you bid Erwin farewell with a kiss on the cheek. You scroll through your contacts to find Eren ❤️‍🔥 Jaeger. Unblock. After unblocking Erens contact, a sea of messages flood your phone. You barely skim them; most of them apologies, some blame you for driving him to cheat. Eyeroll. He’s about to be sorry, all right.

To Eren ❤️‍🔥: Attachment: 2 images

‘We forgive you ❤️’

[jolapeno]

PEEPAW JOEL THOTS???!

oh gosh, this one makes me a touch nervous ⬇️

joel miller x f!reader warnings: smut, p in v, roof sex, injured!joel, sneaking around bill and franks, female and male receiving head.

🔥 think he has sex with you on the rooftop of some old building, maybe it used to be a library or a hotel, it’s not romantic but it becomes it, because he takes a second to appreciate how vast everything is, and you keep rutting your ass into him as you stare off. maybe the sun is peered out from the clouds, after you asked if they could stop a second, and he doesn’t want to but he relents, and then he sorta sees a speckle of what you do. the world from here almost looks normal, and then his hands come to your hips, halting you from backing into him, grunting an “enough.” and you shoot him a smirk over your shoulder, and fuck, like this, it’s photograph worthy. which is why he suspects he doesn’t actually stop you from moving your hips, just tells you to lean over the brick/railing, peeling your jeans down as he wets his hand with his spit as he slides it between your thighs, murmuring close to your ear that it's a "good view."

🔥 he's hurt his arm after coming into contact with another person/group, and you fuss, trying to clean it and he stops you, tells you it’s fine, "m'not even hurt". but he can see you're chewing your lip, fingers holding your chin, "I’d do it all again to keep you safe" and you just stare (because the two of you don't talk like this, it's all under the surface, displayed in actions rather than words). so you just crash your lips to his, his good hand pulling you onto his lap. mouth sliding down your neck as you undo his jeans, tells him if he’s not even hurt, he can make you feel good. and the man is nothing but determined, “you think I can't fuck you right when I’m hurt, huh?” him teasing you before telling you to climb on top, you sinking down on him, breath punched from your lungs as you take him to the root, "you can take it" talking you through it even if he’s the one hissing if he moves his arm. and your breath is all ragged as you get closer and closer, clothes still coated in some fuckers blood, his knuckles split, teeth gritted. and your eyes meet his as his hand grips your hip, both sharing a similar thought: i'd do anything to keep you fucking alive

🔥 you winding him up one day about how he looks miserable (more than normal), tiredness likely a factor, his bones weary, needing rest. so you offer to take him in your mouth after a shower back in some river. your fingers wrapping around his length, telling him to lie back, make a pillow from your jacket, asking if you can look after him, beads of water falling down his gruff, frowning face. “maybe my mouth can put a smile on your face.” and he shakes his head, “what y'mouth magical?” and you smirk, because he doesn't remember that time early on when he'd taken a pill and mixed it with booze that he'd said something similar. so she just sighs, “actually, someone did once tell me it’s life changing.” and he just licks his lips, nodding at you to go on.

🔥 I think when you make it to Jackson, the first night you're both alone is so different than back in the QZ, than the woods, than rooftops and everything in between. it’s the kind of sex that he’d have given you if the world hadn’t gone to shit and he’d met you in a bar. he takes his time, spends so long working you up, earning each moan you will give him before he can even consider burying himself in you. he's on his knees for you, even if his body protests, even if tomorrow his entire body will ache from how good tonight will be. but he knows it'll be worth it. even more as you coat his cock, desperate, needy, leaving fingerprint bruises on his skin that develop when he collapses beside you.

🔥 so, imagine staying over at bill & frank’s after enjoying some food, and a storm is rolling in, and Frank insists, but Bill hates it—insists on two separate rooms. but before you can sneak into Joel’s he sneaks into yours. hand over your mouth as you giggle, telling you that you’re gonna have to be real quiet. “not like you to break the rules, miller.” But then you teasing him about it not being gentlemanly trying to sneak into a lady’s room. “stopped being a gentlemen a while ago.” his fingers snaking inside your underwear. “c’mon baby you know how to be quiet. good enough when we’re surrounded by clickers. how’s this any different?” your panting, hand on his wrist as you pull it down to whisper, “you’re not usually doing this when we’re surrounded by clickers.” and the two of you are already on the floor, pillows and blankets surrounding them as he kisses down your body, sliding his mouth over your pussy as your hand darts into his curls. his fingers pinching your inner thigh when you make too much noise, sucks on the pulse point on your neck asa you catch your breath. begins leaving marks under the space underneath your breasts, a reminder of him there, that he's had you like this when he catches you stripping and changing, before he sinks into you. THE ABOVE ONE CONT: 👉👈 because i think I want to write this... the surroundings are so normal, he’s able to trick himself that this is like olden times. I think when you sit on his lap, he’d lift your hand from his chest at one point, kiss your knuckles—all tender, soft. before he places your hand back and rests his hands on your hips, aiding her. and I think they’d remain on the floor for a while after. him just stroking your cheek, you just lay on his chest, the storm still heavy. both lost in some make believe land that this is their house, and that maybe it’s just a night where they can’t sleep, rather than it being a night where they just feel safe (whatever that even means) and there’s so much hanging in the air, so many words they never speak, but they're safe, and together, and for both of them that's all that matters.

i cannot believe i have thotted so much in the last 24 hours.