#but for the most part his dependency is because of survival. he needs to put up a front or he'll be killed on sight

[talentforlying]

ok legends of tomorrow ended up touching on one of the most Fascinating things about constantine, which is the way he thinks about his magic, so i'm gonna ramble about that for a minute.

first and foremost, magic is a tool for survival in constantine's mind. that's it. it doesn't make him better than people, he just uses it better than most people. of course, he's arrogant about having it, and can be equal parts holier-than-thou and devil-on-your-shoulder about its usage, but it's still just part of the kit for him.

that's one of the reasons that so many other magic users hate his guts; it's why one of his monikers is "the magpie of magic". the artifacts and powers and rituals that are sacred to others, that are ways for people to commune with their faith, to extend the grace of their personal divinities upon the rest of the world - those are all just tools to constantine. divination is a pair of glasses. a binding spell is a wrench. an exorcism is a hammer. he picks up what works and leaves the rest.

the reason he took up magic to begin with was to survive. he started using magic trying to kill his abusive father, and then when he felt too bad to go through with it, to weaken him. he used magic to bolster his grifts when he was living on the streets, and he used it to set his friend chas free of his abusive mother and her familiar. eventually, he got too cocky with it, too full of himself and his talent for magic, and that's how newcastle happened, but after that he tempered himself, started looking at it as the kind of weapon that needs to never be left lying around loaded.

but because magic is what helped him to survive, he does think sometimes that it's the only thing that makes him worth living. he's tied a lot of himself up in his ability to help people after a long, long childhood of being told he ruins everything he touches. even when he fucks things up, or magical entities from his past fuck things up for him, he never blames the magic, he blames himself. magic is the only thing that makes him redeemable, in a way, for the life he's lived. for the people he's hurt.

he needs magic to stay alive these days, but he didn't always. newcastle shot him in the foot in a real big way: he was someone powerful enough to both summon a major demon and send a little girl's soul to hell. he was being yanked out of ravenscar to do magical favors for people as early as two years into his sentencing, he'd accidentally made a name for himself that could not be erased and it launched him into the viper pits of the magical world in a way that could never be undone. every job he did for people, every gun put to his head, meant more deals he had to make, more strings to pull, more people to piss off. he never had a fucking chance to get out of that world once he'd already fallen in it.

(which is why i think a hades-game hellblazer arc where he's constantly escaping hell only to get sucked back in would be thematically appropriate, because he keeps trying to leave and it keeps pulling him back.)

these days, if he were ever to lose his magic, he'd be a dead man walking. demons and angels and warlocks and magicians everywhere coming to take their pound of flesh. he owes his life to his quick and clever thinking, but he keeps his life because of magic, and that's why he'll never be able to give it up. ever.

[pearlessance]

Lust Among Thieves [part one]

Raider!Joel Miller x reader x raider!Tommy Miller

Summary: Survival is a skill that everyone had to gain after the world ended. Your father was killed in the Boston QZ, leaving you alone and forced to survive all on your lonesome. Just to eat, you had to steal from strangers, but unfortunately, you picked two of the worst people to target. What you didn’t expect was the lust that steadily built between all three of you. Warnings: explicit sexual content MDNI, dubcon definitely but not quite noncon, reader is held hostage by Joel and Tommy, threesome, canon typical violence, mean!Joel and manipulative!Tommy, unprotected sex, slowburn, angst with a happy ending NOTE: this is a fic i've cowritten with my bff joelmillersgirlfriend!! she has sooo many good fics over on her A03, her most recent one is called Hangover In the Sunshine and if you don't go read it I'll cry kay <3 Read on A03! MASTERLIST

It felt as if every vein in your body was pulsing, begging for a moment to stop and breathe in fresh oxygen. You couldn’t stop moving though, you had to keep running like your life depended on it - because it did.

You had grown desperate after fleeing the QZ. In the QZ there were rations, yes, but it had never been full on starvation. You had to steal from them. You had no other choice.

But now you were caught and fleeing the scene, tumbling through the thick Massachusetts snow. The sound of rapid steps behind you made you speed up, your worn boots crunching in the snow. You had seen the two men from afar, both broad-shouldered and scary. They weren’t like the other raiders you had encountered in the city, loud and rambunctious. Those were easy to spot, easy to avoid.

These two, on the other hand, were cool, quiet, and calculated. The only reason you had the upper hand was because you watched them from inside the city, following them back to the cabin they resided in deep in the woods. You watched silently from the window as they unpacked everything they had scouted out; food, batteries, medicine, even something as futile as beer.

They didn’t need everything that they had. So, every time they went into the city, you would steal little by little. You didn’t anticipate that they would actually notice. You made sure to cover your snow tracks, but they were simply too observant.

A hand suddenly wrapped around your wrist, yanking you back hard enough that the air was knocked out of your lungs. You huffed and fell to the ground, the snow melting around your aching body.

“Got the bitch, Tommy,” graveled a voice from above you. Before you could turn and glance up, you felt a heavy boot press into the side of your face. It smushed your face into the snow, the heat of your cheek making the snow burn as it melted against your face.

“Let me go,” you growled, flailing your body in an attempt to escape. The weight of the boot on your face shifted, a warning. You could tell that if this man wanted to crush you under the boot, he very well could.

You could hear a low whistle blow behind you, the man who you assumed was “Tommy” beginning to speak. “Damn, brother. She’s a feisty thing. Didn’t think a little girl was the one comin’ and stealin’ our food.”

“A little girl who took what didn’t belong to her. I say that we make sure that she never steals again,” spoke the voice from above you. Pathetically, your eyes watered at the threat.

“P-please,” you begged, clenching your fists into the snow. “I’m sorry, okay. I-I’ve been out here on my own, I would’ve starved.”

“Not my problem,” growled the man from above once more, his boot pressing harder into your face. It was becoming increasingly more difficult to breathe from the weight of his foot.

“Come on now, Joel, she’s beggin’ so nice. She’s young, could be real fit if we put some food in her. She could be useful,” Tommy said, tutting at the sound of your sniffling.

“I didn’t sign up for no babysittin’. She would be just another mouth to feed,” Joel grumbled.

“No,” you pleaded, whimpering when Joel’s boot heel shifted, pushing into your throat. You gasped, wrapping your hands around his thick calf. Even though you couldn’t turn your head to look at him, you still clawed at his leg, trying anything to get him to relieve the pressure. “I can be useful.”

Your words sounded more like wheezes at this point, but suddenly, both men were silent. Perhaps they were exchanging glances, silently conveying a message without even speaking. Whatever it was prompted Joel to release his boot from your neck, finally allowing you to breathe. Your coughs were rough and raspy, interrupted by you taking in deep breaths.

“She’s your responsibility. If you wake up and see her standin’ over you with your own gun, don’t be surprised.”

Instead of replying, you felt four hands grabbing you and pulling you up. Two held you in place while the other two tied your hands quickly. You didn’t even have the opportunity to glance back before you were being dragged forward, a heavy palm wrapped around your wrist.

“Names Tommy,” greeted the voice from beside you. Tommy leaned forward, his face just inches from yours. He continued to walk even as you stumbled over your own feet, overwhelmed by the sudden proximity of the stranger.

Seeing him from afar did him absolutely no justice. Long, dirty blonde hair, bright eyes, and a charming smile that made your face warm, despite the situation.

“What’s a little thing like you doin’ all the way out here? Shouldn’t you be cuddled up with your daddy in the QZ?” Tommy asked, but not with malice. He held a natural curiosity behind his words.

You didn’t speak, unable to form a coherent sentence, too busy thinking about the situation at hand. What were they going to do to you? Kill you? Torture you?

“Don’t worry,” Tommy said in a hushed whisper, trying to hide his sentence from Joel. “I won’t let nothin’ happen to you. You’re safe.”

As much as you wanted to believe him, you couldn’t. Not even when you got back to the very same cabin you had stolen from earlier. Not when Tommy removed your restraints, because when you finally got a good look at Joel, you knew he’d kill you if he got the chance.

All arms and frowns and enthralling gazes - just the thought of being alone with him made your stomach drop.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked Tommy when he pulled you into one of the bedrooms, sifting through the drawers to find you something dry to wear. He glanced back at you, his aquiline nose enhancing the rest of his side profile. He was certainly nice to look at, as much as he shouldn’t have been.

“Joel can be… rash sometimes,” Tommy sighed, glancing back at the drawer. “You don’t deserve to die just because my brother is throwin’ a fit.”

Finally deciding on a shirt, Tommy slunk back over to where you were standing. The backs of your legs were pressed against the rotted bed when he approached you. You had nowhere to run, nowhere to move.

You looked up at Tommy, at this staggering man who was at least a decade older than you. You should’ve been trembling in fear, scared of the anticipation of what they might do to you. Instead, you found yourself oddly excited, suddenly fearless.

Being in the QZ, you lived a strict life. Your father, the guards - you had no freedom. At least now, you could decide your fate. Try to run away, or play along. Make Tommy and Joel happy until eventually, you could slip away.

Tommy used his free hand to run across your bottom lip, pulling a stray piece of hair away. His eyes moved down from your eyes straight to your lips, watching the way they opened. He pressed his index finger into your mouth, spreading your lips slowly.

“Wonder what this mouth could be useful for, baby. You said you’d be useful for me, right?” Tommy whispered, leaning down to brush his lips across yours. Goosebumps erupted across your body, an unexpected rush flooding in between your thighs.

The sound of someone clearing their throat made Tommy pull back, not quite kissing you. You glanced back to see Joel standing in the doorway, most likely watching everything. The expression on his face wasn’t one you could read, but the way his shoulders were squared off told you everything you needed to know.

“Get changed. Knock on the door when you’re done,” Tommy commanded, handing you the fresh clothes before walking out of the room. He shut the door behind him, but you could still hear the hushed whispers from the hall.

“Jesus, if you fuck her, Tommy, I’ll kick your ass back to Texas.”

“Well, what do you suggest we do with her then? We can’t kill her, Joel. She’s a little girl.”

Even with the door closed, even with a sound barrier, you can hear his frustration. “She stole from us. You got no idea who she belongs to. Could be part of a bigger group. What happens if we let her go and she brings back a whole other world of problems? She knows where we sleep, Tommy.”

There’s a single, fleeting moment of hesitation before he says again, “No. We’re not going to kill her. That’s not who we are.”

“Isn’t it?”

You don’t bother to listen to the rest of their bickering. That moment of doubt was enough to remind you how dangerous a situation you’ve wound up in, bringing you back to the task at hand.

The room is small, furnished with little else but the withered bed and beat-up dresser. There are two windows with sheets hung up in front of them, but of course, they’re both nailed shut.

The nightstand beside the bed has a lamp on it. You could use it to smash the window open, but they’d hear the shattering of glass and be on you in a minute.

You try to pry out the long, iron nails securing the window closed. The rust turns your aching fingers a sickly shade of orange, a vivid reminder of how you’re stuck and at the mercy of two strangers.

“Goin’ somewhere?” spoke a voice from behind you, making you jump in surprise. Both Joel and Tommy are standing near the entrance of the bedroom, watching you as you try to escape. They must’ve opened the door when you were trying to pry the window open, too distracted by your hopes of escaping to notice the men.

Shaking your head no, you cowered in the corner of the room, praying that Tommy would protect you from Joel’s wrath.

Tommy stood behind Joel with his arms crossed, a small expression of disappointment painted across his face. He truly had faith that you wouldn’t try to escape, which was as endearing as it was ridiculous. Of course you’d try to escape.

“Guess you can’t leave her alone, Tommy. If she eats, sleeps, pisses, you better have an eye on her,” Joel growled, his eyes staring daggers at you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your free hand still clenching the clothes that Tommy gave you. Joel’s eyes move down to the clothes, then back up to you.

“He gave you a chance to have some privacy, but you fucked that up real quick,” Joel said, nodding his head in your direction. “Get on with it.”

You hesitated, glancing at both men with wide doe eyes. “With what?”

Joel huffs, crossing his arms without even explaining any further. Both men were mirror images of each other, arms crossed and gazes heavy. You glanced over to Tommy, thinking that maybe he’d rescue you from the situation. It shouldn’t have been a surprise to see the toothy grin that spread across Tommy’s mouth, his eyebrows raised in excitement.

He shrugged, but the smile on his face showed you just how much he was enjoying the situation. A wave of anger washed over you, at how much neither of them cared. They weren’t as bad as other raiders you had encountered; cannibals, rapists, slavers. Still, they were holding you hostage, upping the ante if you made any mistakes.

Your hands shook when you gripped the wet puffer jacket that was covering most of your upper half. You slowly pulled it back, the nylon material swishing against your body, dropping to the ground at your feet. Pausing, you looked to see Joel looking away, a frown etched into his face. Tommy, on the other hand, was watching you like a hawk.

The skin on your stomach broke out in goosebumps when you slid it up, exposing your warm skin to the brothers. Joel still wasn’t looking, confusing you. Why would he order you to undress for him but not even watch?

Soon, you were standing in just your worn bra and panties, reaching to grab the fresh clothes.

“How long have you been on your own?” Tommy asked suddenly, making Joel glance up at you in response. You stood there stupidly, attempting to cover yourself from their gazes. It had been months of scavenging on your own, rarely finding something to last more than a couple of days. You knew that you had lost an uncomfortable amount of weight, but you didn’t need Tommy to point it out.

“I thought that you assumed I was with a group?” you asked, your face turning pale from the way Joel looked at you. A seemingly permanent scowl reappeared on his face, the muscles in his arms flexing, like he was controlling himself not to close the distance between you.

“Okay, smart ass,” Tommy snorted, rolling his eyes at you. “I can tell you’ve been on your own, with how skinny you look,” he pauses before speaking again. “Must’ve been hard.”

You swallow, nodding stiffly at the statement. It was unbearably difficult, fleeing the QZ after you watched your father get executed. Though your relationship with him was on the rocks, he was all you had left. You had to survive on your own, on the outside. You heard stories growing up in the QZ, of how dangerous it was outside of the city walls.

The rumors were nothing compared to what you had seen.

“It has been,” you whispered. “Hard.”

Something shifted behind Joel’s eyes before he turned away, brushing by Tommy as he walked out of the bedroom. Tommy frowned at the sight of his brother exiting the room.

Turning back to you, he spoke, “Well, hurry up and get dressed so you can get somethin’ to eat. I’m sure it’ll do you good.”

You nodded, shivering in the corner of the room. “Cold.”

Tommy laughed, that Cheshire grin of his making your stomach twist. He moved over to you, rubbing his palms against the skin of your bare shoulders. His large, rough hands moving swiftly over your shoulders, the consistent friction creating a warmth that started from your shoulders and spread between your thighs.

“How’s that feel?” Tommy asked, rubbing his thumbs into the collum of your neck. He added a bit more pressure at the tip of his fingers, digging them into your now-warm skin.

“Good,” you squeaked, still clenching the shirt in your hand. Tommy’s hands left your shoulders, pulling the shirt away from you. He raised your arms up, letting his hands slide over the skin of your wrists, higher, higher. Slowly, he worked the worn, long-sleeved cotton shirt over your frame. When your head peeked out of the hole of the shirt, Tommy winked down at you, brushing your hair out of your eyes.

“You’re a pretty thing,” Tommy whispered, moving down to his knees to remove your boots and help you step into the shorts he had given you. His hands slid up the shorts, warm palms spread across the apex of your thighs. You could hardly bring yourself to look down at him, the heavy look in his eyes making a shiver run down your spine. “I told you, I’m not gonna let anybody hurt you, and that includes Joel. Just try not to set him off, alright?”

You nodded, watching Tommy run his lips across the skin of your thigh. His mustache tickled your skin, but you couldn’t bring yourself to react to the feeling. You were frozen and your eyes couldn’t move away from Tommy’s.

He kissed a path across your thigh, creating a trail of goosebumps. “Don’t let me down.”

“I won’t,” you whispered, experimentally extending your hand to run through Tommy’s hair. It was long and shaggy, but surprisingly soft, the strands falling through your fingers easily. Tommy hummed at the feeling, those sharp canines making yet another appearance.

“As much as I’d love to let you braid my hair, we better not leave Joel waitin’. He’d get suspicious,” Tommy joked when he stood, groaning at the sound of his knees popping.

You pulled your hand back, peering up at Tommy through heavy lashes. This was insane, you were insane to be entertaining his advances. But, he wanted to take care of you. He could protect you.

“Suspicious of what?” you asked, blushing when you felt Tommy’s hand take hold of yours. He laced his large fingers through your own, grinning down at your question.

“Of me not being able to control myself. Now, come on,” he spoke, pulling you along with him, not allowing you time to process his words. Your clothed feet followed Tommy out of the bedroom, down the hall, and into the tiny kitchen and living room space. Joel was using a portable burner to warm up some food, not even looking up when both you and Tommy walked in.

“Look, Joel,” Tommy said, gesturing to you. “It’s your favorite.”

You watched Joel’s frowned face meet your own before dropping to look at your shirt. Your eyes followed, reading the name Bob Dylan. Tommy snickered at Joel’s expression; full of frowns and impatience. Their dynamic was interesting, to say the least.

Even though you should have felt scared of Joel, you found yourself relating to him. To use anger and lack of empathy. After watching your father die, and losing everything, you understood that empty feeling that you recognized in Joel.

“The moment I saw it, I knew you would like it. She winnin’ you over yet?” Tommy asked, pulling your hand to walk further into the kitchen. Joel rolled his eyes, propping his body up against the counter behind him. He was so broad-shouldered, you couldn’t even process how he fit in the tiny kitchen.

“Cute. Can’t say she is, Tommy,” Joel grumbled, stirring the pot that he was working on. Tommy released your hand, joining Joel in preparing dinner.

“I really am sorry,” you suddenly sputtered, both of the men looking at you in response. “I was desperate. In the QZ they always had at least some food, I-I’d never starved before.”

Tommy’s smile faltered, his eyes meeting Joel’s in a silent conversation.

“You were in a QZ? What are you doin’ out here?” Joel asked, cutting off the gas burner. You could feel a shift in the energy, though you couldn’t figure out what exactly it meant.

You nodded. “Went to the Boston QZ with my dad when the virus hit. I was there ever since.”

“But now you’re not.” Joel huffed. “Why?”

“It's not important,” you whispered.

Joel’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t test me,” he replied.

Tommy’s eyes caught yours, silently pleading for you to play along. After all, you did tell him that you would try to stay on Joel’s good side.

“They killed him there, and they were going to kill me next. I had to flee.”

He stares at you for what feels like a long time, skin burning beneath his gaze. In the moment of silence, you see the similarities between them; they share the same rugged exterior, the same aquiline nose, the same crease between their brows. Though Tommy’s quite a bit softer, face not contorted into a perpetual scowl like Joel’s.

“Your dad,” Joel says simply. Not a question but rather a demand for information. An order.

You shake your head, averting your gaze. “It doesn’t matt-” you began, but after you saw the dark look on Tommy’s face, you corrected yourself. “There isn’t much to say. He broke FEDRA rules, so they made him pay.”

“Not much of a daddy’s girl, I take it?” Joel questioned. This was the most that Joel had looked at you since the moment you met him, and the heat of his gaze was overwhelming. It felt like an interrogation, a “good cop, bad cop” scenario - with much higher stakes.

“He was all I had,” you said, tone wavering. The room was heavy, shrouded in uncertainty. Neither Joel nor you spoke or created a new rebuttal. The silence lasted for a couple of minutes before Tommy spoke.

“Come on, you two. You can play twenty-one questions later. Let’s eat before the food gets cold.”

And even though Joel had only warmed up a few cans of chicken noodle soup, you swore that it was the best thing that you had eaten in years. Maybe it had to do with the fact that you hadn’t had a meal in days, but either way, it was delicious.

“Slow down, little girl. Gonna make yourself puke,” Tommy teased. He sat across from the table with you, his feet propped up the table as he ate from the bowl in his hands. Joel was sitting alone in the small living room, slowly sipping from his bowl.

“It’s been days,” you spoke in between bites. Tommy nodded, suppressing a grin.

“Yeah, we know. You really dug into our stash the last time you came. When was it, a month ago now?”

You swallowed, sheepishly avoiding his smile. “Thirty-eight days. It lasted for twenty-seven of them.”

Tommy hummed. “That’s a long time with no food. I can’t blame you, for what you did.”

“Tommy!” Joel hissed from the living room, but his brother paid him no mind.

“Come on, Joel, be serious. She’s harmless. Probably spent the past ten years livin’ in the QZ, that’s half her life. She hasn’t seen what it’s actually like out here; she hasn’t lived it.”

Joel exhales through his nose angrily, turning back to focus on his food. “I’m over this conversation.”

And when Joel said he was over, he meant it. For the rest of the night, you were a ghost to him; invisible. Even later on, you were sitting with Tommy on the small couch in the living room. Tommy was pulling information out of you - what your name was, where you were from, if you liked living in the QZ - but Joel didn’t bat an eye. The only question that made Joel shift in his seat at the kitchen table was “How old are you?”

“Twenty-two,” you said, suddenly very aware of how insane the situation was. Both of the men were probably almost double your age, rabid, dangerous, but you weren’t really scared. You were more so… intrigued. They had fed you, and Tommy had comforted you. Maybe being with them wasn’t any worse than being on your own.

“Christ,” Tommy exhaled, “Barely old enough to drink. Not that that matters anymore.” He reached down, pulling his bag over from the corner of the couch. His slender fingers produced a bottle of Jack, half empty. “Was gonna use it for a Molotov but I think we could all use somethin’ to take the edge off. Ever have some of this before?”

You shook your head. “I’ve only ever drank vodka,” you admitted, watching how Tommy’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “I had some friends in school who would steal bottles from some of the stalls.”

“Bad influences,” Tommy said, instantly becoming hypocritical when he passed the bottle of jack over to you. You took it from him, glancing down at the bronze liquid glowing from the setting sun. Your fingers twisted the cap off, swishing the liquid back and forth before you took a swig.

You winced at the feeling of the liquid fire running down your throat, a chortle coming from the end of the couch. Both your throat and face were burning with the way Tommy was grinning at you.

“Got a little somethin’ right there,” Tommy said, reaching across the couch to wipe up the excess liquid that dribbled down your chin. He brought his index finger to his lips, sucking the alcohol from the tip of his finger. “Mmm. Sweet as pie.”

The heat on your face made you take another sip of the alcohol. A sudden scrape came from the kitchen, with Joel standing up tall and reaching for his rifle. “I’m taking watch.”

He was out of the house before you could blink.

“He’ll come around,” Tommy reassured, taking the jack out of your hand before swallowing down a big swig.

“There’s a half-decent bed in that room there,” Tommy said, gesturing to the hallway. “You can lay down if you’re tired. It’s been a long day for all of us.”

You eyed the bedroom, gazing longingly at the queen bed. You spoke before thinking through your next words. “You’re being very nice. Why?”

Tommy locks eyes with you as he drinks from the jack bottle. “‘Cuz I think you’re cute,” he winks when he finishes swallowing. He stretches out his long legs, resting them on the small coffee table before leaning his head back. His throat is exposed, showing off his thick and unruly beard.

“Either take the bed or I’m gonna beat you to it,” Tommy paused to yawn. “I’m exhausted.

Standing, you took his advice. Tommy’s eyes were shut, not watching you trail into the bedroom. You momentarily considered running to the front door but for all you knew, Joel was standing right outside. You needed to think, work slowly to build their trust, and then try to escape.

“Thank you, Tommy,” you said from the bed, climbing in and tucking yourself beneath the sheets. He hummed from the couch, not sleeping but also not paying you much mind. It was surprising how much he had already begun to trust you. His trust would be easy to win over. Joel’s… not so much.

Stretched out in the bed, you doubted you would be able to fall asleep. Your thoughts were racing, your father's death, being held captive. It was just too much to sink in. You glanced around the room momentarily, taking note of how this bedroom lacked windows. No escaping through here.

What made things so much worse was how you found yourself watching Tommy resting on the couch. His Adam’s apple bobbed each time he swallowed, his long, slender legs stretching across the coffee table. His long, layered hair covered his face from you, and you could practically feel the way it felt between your fingers.

You thought about how he had kissed you earlier, all of his affection confusing you. You shouldn’t be attracted to him. He was holding you captive.

Pathetically, you found yourself thinking of Joel as well. Of his heavy presence, of how he could make the energy in the room shift just by stepping into it. The heat of his gaze shouldn’t have made your palms grow clammy and your head go all fuzzy; in both fear and some sort of weird attraction. Men in the QZ weren’t like Joel and Tommy, not rugged and full of pure testosterone.

Somehow, in between creating escape plans while simultaneously reminiscing about the way Tommy’s palms felt against your skin, you ended up falling asleep. Your dreams were full of images of strong, thick hands, as well as crunchy snow. You weren’t sure how long you were asleep before being woken up by Tommy.

He was leaning over you as you groggily blinked up, uncertain of what was happening.

“I’m about to take watch. Joel will be on the couch now. Everythin’ okay?” Tommy questioned, brushing his fingers across your forehead to see your face more clearly. The light from the lamp streaming from the living room into the bedroom accentuated Tommy’s features. This could be a moment where you use his flirtation to your advantage.

Without thinking, you laced your fingers through his hair. It was a quick, instinctive action that ended with you pulling Tommy in for a kiss. The kiss was rushed, fervent, an electric buzz shocking your entire body and making your pussy hum in excitement.

He took every opportunity to deepen the kiss, nipping and licking at your lips. You’re manipulating him, using him to your benefit. It doesn’t mean anything, it’s only natural for your body to react to the feeling of his hands running across your throat.

“Well, good mornin’ to you too,” Tommy laughed into your mouth, pulling away. A web of spit connected between your lips, both of your eyes moving to watch the string break. “Fuck. Aren’t you full of surprises?”

He glances over to Joel, who is stretched out on the living room couch. His arm was thrown over his eyes to block the light of the lantern, not paying any attention to what you and Tommy were up to.

After realizing that Joel wasn’t watching, he used both of his hands to cradle your face. He kissed you so passionately that it was almost hard to breathe, a mashing of lips and teeth. One of his heavy hands reached down to palm your breast, experimentally squeezing a handful. The sensitive peak of your nipple brushed against your bra from the way you were arching your back, making you gasp into Tommy’s mouth.

“I’m gonna be hard for you the whole damn time I’m on watch,” he whispered, pulling both his hand and body away from you. He stood over you, adjusting himself in his pants.

“Be safe,” you said breathlessly, running your palm across his hand. Tommy shot you a toothy grin, flipping your hand over into his own.

“Yes ma’am,” he replied.

Your plan was working.

In fact, it was working incredibly well for you. You were slowly starting to gain Tommy’s trust, and you had survived past the first night. Nights turned into days and soon it was weeks that you had been held captive by the men.

Tommy couldn’t help but grow close to you, not with the way you would bat your eyes at him when Joel wasn’t looking. You clung to him like a dog, trying to work anything out of him. It wasn’t before long that he finally spilled some information.

“Why does Joel have a stick up his ass?” you asked Tommy, helping him gather the wood that he had just chopped.

“Hey now, watch your mouth,” Tommy said, but the amused smile told you that he agreed with your statement. “He wasn’t the same, after outbreak day.”

You nodded, holding a piece of wood to your chest. “None of us were. I was so young when it happened. I’m glad that I can’t remember what it was like.”

“It was terrifyin’, not knowin’ what the hell was goin’ on. But losin’ her, that’s what did it for Joel. Wasn’t no time machine to go back in time to fix it.”

He was cracking, getting much too comfortable with you. This was your chance to get something to use against Joel.

“Who was she? His wife?” you asked, making Tommy laugh through his nose.

“Joel was no romantic. She was his daughter, Sarah. Best soccer player in the goddamn world,” Tommy chortled, grabbing the rest of the wood from the snow-covered ground.

It made sense, that Joel had a daughter who died. Only a deep, soul-crushing pain could make someone as empty as Joel.

The look on your face must’ve alerted Tommy that he probably shouldn’t have told you any of that information. His eyes widened as he swallowed, chuckling nervously.

“Don’t tell Joel that you know that.”

And you didn’t. You held the information and waited. The perfect opportunity would arise where you could use it for your benefit.

For weeks you’d watched them. Memorized their patterns, their habits. You’d taken note of every rotation in watch shifts, every outing to gather food or supplies. It’s Tommy’s turn to check the snares today, leaving you and Joel alone in the cabin.

The two of you had established a routine of your own on these days. Silence, as Joel prefers, and to keep far enough away from each other. Tommy didn’t bring up your kiss around Joel, but he was just as flirtatious as ever with you.

They’d fed you, clothed you, returned the strength to your bones. Carved room for you in their lives, despite your unplanned arrival. And yet despite all of this, you knew you had to get out. And if you were to ever have a chance, it had to be today.

Joel sits in the living room, knife in hand as he carves something into the piece of wood to pass the time. You can hear the steady grating of metal, a soft hum that echoes in the cabin.

You don’t get close, too afraid to look him in the eye, too afraid his heavy gaze will deter you. Instead, you stand in the doorway, creeping slowly towards the front door. “Tommy should be back soon, right?”

He doesn’t say anything. Just whittles away at the wood in his hands.

“I hope he catches another deer,” you say, steadily creeping towards the front door. It’s less than a foot away, so close you could reach out and touch it.

But you wait, holding tight to your patience.

“Said he’d teach me how to skin it,” you continue, timing each step with your voice, with the scraping of his knife.

Joel makes a sound at the back of his throat. Not quite a response, but an acknowledgment that he’s hearing you.

You reach out your hand and take the iron lock between your fingers, trying to draw at each syllable as much as possible without sounding strange. “I’m not sure I’ll be any good at it, to be honest with you. All the…the blood, you know? I’ve seen it before, up close, but…it’s different. Isn’t it?”

This time he does respond, and the sound of his voice nearly makes you jump out of your skin. “Blood is blood,” he says.

Unlocked.

You reach for the handle with shaking fingers. Slowly, you twist it open, heart hammering so hard behind your ribcage you can hear the pulse in your ears.

He’ll kill you if he catches you.

But you have to try. You have to.

Gently, you ease the door open. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” you say, voice a little louder than before.

The wind is cold as it hits your face. The most refreshing breath of fresh air you’ve had in weeks, as it’s been the first that’s belonged to you only.

“Blood is just blood,” you say, stepping over the threshold. “I guess, in the QZ, it always just got washed away so quickly.”

The door creaks when it closes. You’ve memorized that, too. So you leave it open in hopes it gives you a couple of extra minutes before he realizes you’re gone.

“Sorry, Joel,” you say. “I’m sure I’m annoying you. Tommy will be back soon.”

You don’t wait to hear a reply.

The moment you’re out of the cabin, off the porch with your feet on solid ground, you start running and you don’t look back.

It’s been so long since you’ve been granted this much freedom, and in only moments your lungs begin to ache.

Still, even with no true destination in mind, you push your legs as fast as they’ll carry you. The snow crunches beneath your feet and your breath fogs in front of your face, but it’s the best you’ve felt in weeks.

There’s an end to the woods somewhere, right? You needed to get out, to find someplace to hole up in temporarily. Someplace that Joel and Tommy haven’t checked a thousand times over. Someplace far.

Tomorrow, you could make a better plan. For now, away was all that mattered.

You’re not sure how long you’re running before you nearly fall against a tree trunk, rough bark scratching against your sweaty palms. Straining your ears, trying to keep your panting breaths quiet, you listen for footsteps, rustling, any sound of life apart from your own.

And when you hear nothing but the wind in your ears, you let yourself feel it for the first time since setting foot in that cabin.

Hope.

“Don’t you fucking move.”

His voice comes a second before the click of his rifle.

You don’t listen.

This time when you begin running from him, your adrenaline is fueled by much more than trepidation. You’re not running for your freedom, you’re running for your life.

Joel’s heavy footsteps are right behind you, his unheaded warning echoing in your head.

You spare a glance over your shoulder to see that perpetual scowl on his face has turned murderous, deadly.

His pace slows only long enough for him to raise his rifle. The shot reverberates between the trees, and pressure builds behind your eyes as you realize how dangerous this man is.

You’ve known it from the moment you’d seen him, but it suddenly feels much more real. He’s going to kill you.

Another shot.

He’s going to kill you.

You run faster, push your legs harder, warm tears sliding down your cheeks.

But Joel’s much bigger than you. Faster, too. And when he crashes into you, sending you both tumbling to the ground, he presses his knee into the small of your back. Pain shoots up through your spine, down to your toes.

He’s speaking but you can’t hear it, can’t hear anything but the sound of your own cries in your ears. You fight him, even knowing you have no chance, even knowing he’s going to take this opportunity to do what he’s wanted all along.

“Please,” you find yourself saying. “Please, just let me go. I’ll never come back, I’ll never tell anyone where you are.”

He laughs. It’s a sick, maniacal sound that frightens you so much more than anything else ever has. “What makes you think I’d believe a single word that comes out of your mouth?”

You can hear the sound of fabric tearing, and then he’s taking your hands in his and pining them against your back. He ties the scrap of his flannel tight around your wrists, immobilizing you.

Trying to break free of the well-practiced knot is fruitless and you know it, but you try anyway.

His breath is hot against the back of your neck. “Stupid little girl,” he says. “Know that whatever happens now, you did to yourself.”

The fear starts to fade and is replaced with exhaustion. Every muscle in your body aches but it’s your mind that simply can’t take the torment any longer. You let out a slow breath, savoring the way your lungs persistently expand, breathing sweet life into your veins. And when you exhale, you say, “Just do it.”

Joel picks up his rifle.

You close your eyes.

His hand is warm as he wraps it around your arm and pulls you to your feet. “Get up.”

He’s taking you back to the cabin? To make for an easier cleanup, you assume. But if he’s going to kill you, you’re not going to have your life to him on a silver fucking platter.

No. If you have to work for it, then so does he.

You pull out of his grasp. “Do it right here.”

“How about you do as I say.”

“Took you for a lotta things, Joel. But I admit, I didn’t think you were a coward.”

His jaw tenses but he says nothing. Just grabs your arm again, hard enough to bruise, and shoves you in front of him. The metal point of his rifle digs into your spine as he pushes it against you. “Walk.”

“No.”

This time he stabs the rifle into your spine so hard a hiss of pain escapes you. “Walk,” he repeats.

What are you to do? You can’t run, can’t hide, can’t fight him off.

You follow his order with gritted teeth. It isn’t until you’re halfway back to the cabin, adrenaline wilting away, that you realize you’re bleeding.

There’s a clean-cut slice through your right shoulder, crimson dripping slowly down the sleeve of your shirt. “You fucking shot me.”

“You asked me to.”

“No, I asked you to kill me. There’s a big difference.” You narrow your eyes at him, to which he gives nothing in response but that stupid fucking scowl.

The sun is beginning to set, casting him in an orange hue. It silhouettes his profile, accenting the scruff on his chin and that thin scar across his nose. The thought crosses your mind that he’d be really handsome if he wasn’t such an asshole.

“Walk,” he says again, announcing each letter.

“No.”

He shoves the point of his rifle into your ribs this time, knocking you to your knees. But then he waits for you to gain your composure, and says, “Make me repeat myself one more time, and I’ll pull the damn trigger.”

Joel wraps the strap of his rifle around his forearm and pulls you roughly to your feet. You expected him to push you forward again, but this time he wraps an arm around your waist and hauls you off your feet entirely.

“Asshole,” you murmur. You contemplate kicking him but know it’s in your best interest to just stay still. With how angry you’ve made him, you can’t imagine there’d be any saving you. Not unless Tommy’s returned from his hunting trip early.

But when Joel kicks open the cabin door, it’s still empty. Your one saving grace is absent.

“Must be hard,” you say as he shoulders you onto the couch. “Blaming the whole world for your fuck ups.”

His jaw feathers as he clenches his teeth. “Feel free to keep quiet.”

“Bet the two of you have done an awful lot to survive. Know you have, ‘cause I have, too. And you and Tommy have been out here on your own far longer than me. If your first instinct was to kill me, I’m sure I’m not the first wanderer to pass through here. Am I?”

He sets his rifle on the counter and runs his hands through his hair. There’s a light dusting of snow on the ends, melting as the seconds tick by.

“You ever killed a girl before, Joel? Or was I going to be your first?”

The muscles in his body go rigid. He turns to you, eyes narrowed. “Watch your mouth.”

It's his reaction, after so little of them, that lets you know you’re on the right track. Your mouth forms a satisfactory grin, which only seems to incite his anger further. “No,” you say. “I wouldn’t have been the first.”

Joel reaches to his wrist, adjusting the broken watch. “Should’ve killed you on day one,” he says. “Before you got your claws into my brother.”

“Who was it?”

“Put a fuckin’ bullet in your head from fifty yards out. Never should’ve even approached you.”

You tilt your head, trying to adjust the position he’d put you in. Your fingers have gone numb, tied too tightly behind your back. “Heard stories about outbreak day,” you say, voice taking on a manipulatively soft cadence. “People had to kill their loved ones when they got bit. Parents, siblings, children. That what you had to do, Joel?”

He crosses the room in a few short strides and takes your face roughly in his hands. “Shut your mouth.”

So quietly it’s almost silent, you whisper, “Who was she?”

In a last-ditch effort to silence you, he wraps his hand around your neck, crushing your windpipe, but all you can focus on is the way he looks at you. Those dark, haunting eyes. Filled with hunger.

Joel looks at you like he’s starving.

And even though you know it’s wrong, know it’s terrible and vulgar, you can’t shake the ache that settles between your thighs as you realize what exactly it is he wants from you.

He lets you go suddenly, running his hand down his face in exasperation. Joel disappears down the hallway for a moment, and you can hear him rustling around, but you don’t realize what he’s looking for until he returns to the living room with gauze, medical tape, and Tommy’s sacred bottle of Jack.

He pours the alcohol over your wound and every muscle in your body tightens at the pain of it. It’s not deep, just a graze from the bullet, but it’s enough to hurt. “How noble of you to treat the bullet wound you gave me.”

Joel doesn’t respond. He dabs the cut with the gauze, cleaning away both the drying blood and the whiskey.

“Can’t believe you missed,” you say, light laughter laced through the words.

But Joel’s not laughing. Not even a little as he tells you, “I don’t miss.”

It can’t be true. You figure it’s just his bruised ego, which is hypocritical considering you’re the one with your hands tied behind your back being mended while he’s got nothing to show for your near escape but a light sheen of sweat on his brow.

But if it is true…and he doesn’t miss, that means he had no intentions of killing you. Joel had every opportunity and every excuse to. Hell—you’d even asked the man to. Yet still, here you sat, untouched save for a scratch.

You’re not quite sure what to make of it.

Now, it’s you who sits in silence while Joel speaks.

“We did what we had to,” he says. “We found this place, fixed it up. It’s ours. Sometimes people get too close. Try to take what doesn’t belong to them. There’s a price for that these days.”

He stays focused on the task at hand; cleaning your wound, placing clean gauze, and taping it to your skin. “Is that why you’re so angry with me all the time? Because you think I owe you something?”

When he tears what remains of your sleeve away from your shirt, the feel of his hands on your bare, sensitive skin is foreign. Not bad, but different from Tommy’s. “You sleep real good at night. Hardly seems like we’re even.”

Joel’s hands are rough and big. There’s dirt beneath his fingernails and wind chap on his knuckles, a display that does something to you. He’s so rugged, so masculine…

“There are other ways I can repay you,” you tell him. His eyes snap to yours, shrouded in a dark mystery you can’t help but lean towards. “I bet it’s been lonely out here. No one but Tommy to talk to. No one to touch but yourself.”

He says nothing. Turns his attention back to patching you up dutifully. But he doesn’t tell you to stop, doesn’t tell you to shut your mouth, and you take it as a sign.

“I’ve been lonely too, Joel. Before the two of you, I hadn’t spoken to a human in weeks. Do you know what that can do to a person? Makes them desperate.”

You can see his pulse quicken in his throat and begin to wonder why you waited so long to try this tactic. It worked for his brother, it only makes sense it would work for Joel, too. He must be just as wanton, just as deprived.

“It doesn’t have to be like this,” you tell him softly. “We can help each other. I can…I can repay you.”

When he’s finished patching you up, you stand awkwardly on your feet, hands still tied behind your back. Joel stares up at you with a heat in his eyes you’ve never seen before.

“Just because you’re used to flashin’ those eyes at Tommy doesn’t mean it’ll work on me. I know what you’ve been up to with him, workin’ him up, usin’ him. I’m not that easy.”

You step forward, stumbling a bit before Joel reaches up to steady you by holding your thighs. His palms are so big and wide, stretching easily over the expansion of your legs.

“I’m not using anyone, Joel. I’m only trying to help you out. I know how much it terrifies you, to get close to someone. To lose them.”

Joel’s palms tighten around your thighs, his dark eyes glaring up at you. “You don’t know me, little girl.”

Your heart thumped in your ribcage so loudly that you were scared Joel might hear it. Joel’s chin is almost tucked in between the middle of your thighs, his rough beard brushing against your denim jeans.

“Then show me, Joel. Show me who you really are.”

“This how you survive for so long? Sleeping with all the men you run across?” Joel questioned, one of his palms running along the inside of your thigh. His touch shouldn’t make you feel like this; ignited, aching unbearably.

“Nope,” you exhaled, “just you and your little brother.”

Joel growls, fingers twitching as they traverse higher, one hand gripping tight to the back of your thigh, keeping you balanced, the other dancing dangerously close to the seam of your jeans. “Fuckin’ brat. I bet you gave your daddy hell, didn’t you?”

His palm moves higher, slightly grazing against the outline of your pussy in your jeans. He sits a little straighter, chin pressed to your navel. When he looks up at you like that, it forces you to acknowledge just how handsome he is. Rugged and strong in a way that enhances his loveliness, shrouded in a magnetism you can’t help but fall victim to.

Joel’s hand on the back of your thigh moves slowly over your waist, around your side to the button of your jeans. You watch with rapt attention as he skillfully undoes it, wasting not a second before he’s parting the metallic teeth of your zipper. “S’a shame Tommy ain’t here to save you now, little girl.”

You watch him, but Joel watches you. His attention warms your cheeks, sets your skin ablaze. He hooks his thumbs into your waistband and tugs both your jeans and panties down in one sure movement.

The force of it has you stumbling forward, falling onto his lap. Not so much as an ounce of shame flashes in his eyes as you situate yourself comfortably, becoming acutely aware of the bulge in his jeans. He knows you can feel it. Knows, too, why that little whine forms in the back of your throat.

He looks so proud of himself, like this has all been a game and suddenly the tides have changed and you’re the one on the losing team.

If only he knew the truth.

“Let me repay you,” you breathe out, grinding yourself against him. The rough denim feels harsh against your too-sensitive skin, yet somehow like relief. “For feeding me.” You shift your hips against him with more pressure this time and his lips part. “For putting clothes on my back.” Again. “For protecting me.”

Joel leans up so quickly it startles you. The look on his face is so devoid of emotion, you’re not sure if he wants to fuck you or kill you. He says, “Should be thanking my brother.”

You can’t help the sinful smirk that tugs at your lips. His words say one thing, but his hands find the swell of your ass and squeeze, pulling your forward, pushing you back, encouraging that sweet friction. Joel’s mouth is an inch from yours, so close you’re sharing the same breath as you tell him, “I owe you both.”

There’s a moment of hesitance. A second where he just stares at you, thoughts you wish he’d speak aloud running through his mind. But then he makes his decision, and he presses his mouth urgently to yours.

Every movement is rushed, hurried as if he worries he may change his mind at any moment. Joel’s lips move against yours, tongue slipping between them, tasting you, drinking you in like a man starved for it.

Despite how desolate he moves against you, he’s strangely affectionate. A perfect balance of coarse and soft, of harsh and tender. Your hips move on their own accord now, the apex of your thighs so wet and slippery you stain the denim beneath you.

He slides his fingers in the hair at the nape of your neck, crushing your mouth impossibly closer to his.

“Joel,” you pant, unable to catch your breath. He bucks his hips up against you and it makes you whimper. Again, a little stronger this time. “Joel.”

He stops kissing your swollen lips and starts biting gently at your collarbone instead. He doesn’t say it, but you know this is his way of giving you a chance to speak, to tell him what you need to say.

“My…my hands,” you say. “Please. Please, I won’t do anything. I just want to touch you. I want—oh, God.”

Joel smiles against your skin as he slips his free hand between your legs. You’re sure it pleases him to feel the mess he’s made of you, but you can’t think much of anything past the way the rough pads of his fingers feel as they circle your clit.

He sets a slow but consistent pace, desire steadily racking up higher and higher and higher. You can’t speak, can't breathe, can’t do anything but moan as he creates a bliss like you’ve never known.

This man’s a lot older than you, much more experienced, and it shows. The way he touches you is incomparable to the boys you’d been with back in the QZ, boys who liked you a whole lot more than the man beneath you but somehow knew so much less about how to touch you.

“If I knew playing with this sweet little pussy was the key to getting you to shut up, I’d have done it ages ago,” he says. But there’s no irritation in his voice. Instead, it’s filled with something that sounds a lot like admiration.

You breathe out his name, right on the precipice of an orgasm, when he pulls his hand away. It’s been so long, and you’d been so close, that pressure builds behind your eyes. Your shoulders drop, your head falls forward. “Please,” you say. “Please, Joel—I’m sorry. I’ll be good, I swear, just—!”

“Shh,” he coos, unbuttoning his jeans. “S’enough of that cryin,’ now.” He pulls down his zipper and shoves the denim down just enough to pull himself out. It surprises you, in truth, to see just how big he is.

Yet still, you find yourself lifting on your knees, making it easier for him to slip inside. You ease down onto him and the stretch is somehow both painful and delicious, the low groans Joel makes like music to your ears.

He reaches behind you and pulls at the flannel scrap that binds your hands together, freeing you from restraint. The blood flows back to your fingers, making them tingle. You place both hands on his shoulders and begin to move slowly, experimentally, easily finding a rhythm and an angle that has you hurtling toward euphoria once more.

He’s so big and warm beneath you, cock filling you so full, and you can’t hear anything but the sound of his voice as he begins to murmur such filthy things.

“Told Tommy to leave you alone,” he says. “Told him not to touch you…I can see why he’s been ignorin’ me now. He’s been blinded by all those pretty smiles you give him, all those nice little kisses. But it’s this he wants, ain’t it?”

Joel squeezes your hips tight in his hands, holding you still while he thrusts up into you. This feels impossibly better, his cock nudging the sweetest spot, and your heart hammers in your chest in response. “God, Joel, I—!”

“Wants this tight little pussy,” he continues. “Should be him fuckin’ you good like this, by all rights. But Tommy’s not home, an’ girls like you just need’ta be filled up, huh?” His pace quickens, the sound of skin against skin echoing in the empty cabin. You can feel him throb inside you, holding himself back. “Might be my brother you want, but it’s my cock you’re soakin,’ ain’t it?”

You think if your brain wasn’t scrambled, reduced to mush at the sultry cadence of Joel’s voice, that maybe you would’ve heard the creak of the door being open.

But you don’t, and neither does Joel. Not until Tommy’s voice cuts through the lusty fog. “What the fuck, Joel?! What happened to not fucking her?!”

You reached down to cover yourself, but Joel smacked your palms away, continuing the movement of his hips. “Christ, Tommy. We’re almost finished,” Joel growled, wrapping his arms around your waist to hold you in place. His grip tightened the closer he got, exposing his neck to you after throwing his head back.

Tommy’s eyes were burning a hole into the side of your face, and you couldn’t help but look over at him. His brows were knitted together, a deep crease between them. His lips twitched as if he wanted to yell an objection, but he swallowed down the words.

You bat your eyes at Tommy, reaching down to trap your clit in between your nimble fingers. Every time Joel pushed up into you, his cock stretched you in the most perfect way.

Tommy couldn’t pull himself away, actively watching his brother fuck some girl that they’d both been holding hostage. Just the circumstances should’ve had your stomach churning, but instead, you felt another wave of wetness rush against Joel’s cock.

“Oh, God,” you whimpered, watching the way Tommy’s mouth was parted, frozen mid-breath. The muscles in his jaw tightened when he finally watched you orgasm, speared on Joel’s dick. A deep tremble in your thighs had you shaking in Joel’s grip, your entire body jerking at the feeling of Joel continuing to use you for his benefit.

Joel pulls your focus back into him by lightly slapping the side of your face and turning your head to look at his. The strained expression on his face, the veins bulging from his neck, the way his teeth were clenched in frustration showed you just how close he was.

“Bet you’d like it if I filled you up, huh?” Joel asked, not paying any attention to his brother, who was still stupidly watching. “You wouldn’t even be able to stop me. You’d just let me treat you like the little slut you are.”

You nodded your head desperately, trying to push him further and further until he was finally falling. Joel’s lips were parted slightly, stuck momentarily before quickly pulling out of you. Long ropes of his semen splattered across the skin of your thighs, warm and sticky against you.

The muscles in Joel’s face, which were usually tense and solid, suddenly melted into soft, languid lines. It was nice, looking at him for a moment, imagining what he would’ve been like before. Was he a nice man, who worked a usual 9 to 5, minimum wage job to keep the lights on? Or had he always had a darkness inside of him, one that existed before the world ended?

Just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone.

“Care to give me a goddamn explanation now, or do I have to wait another ten minutes?” Tommy said. Even though he looked incredibly intrigued not even a handful of minutes ago, he was back to the angry demeanor he had upon walking in.

Joel’s eyes watched yours momentarily, his cum drying on your thighs as you watched him back. You thought that you saw a sliver of something on his face; remorse? Tenderness? But it was gone just as quickly as it had appeared.

Joel stood, his frame towering over yours. He tucked himself back into his jeans as if nothing had changed and explained, “Your little girlfriend made her grand escape while you were gone. Well—tried to, anyway. You should keep a better handle on her, teach her some discipline. ‘Cause next time I have to waste a bullet on her, it won’t be a graze.”

Tommy sputtered, glancing between Joel and you. You were desperately trying to cover yourself now, left grabbing for clothes while both Joel and Tommy stood over you.

“You tried to fuckin’ escape?” Tommy asked, but there was no malice behind his words. Instead, he seemed genuinely disappointed, and for a second, you actually felt bad for letting him down.

You looked over to Joel for help, for something, but his eyes were back to staring through you like you were a ghost. Like he hadn’t just fucked you senseless.

“Come on, go get cleaned up. I’ll deal with you later,” Tommy said, a hand on his hip as he shook his head at you. Why was it that you felt embarrassed for what you had done, your failed attempt at escaping the two men? You were embarrassed for trying to finally be free, yet you didn’t even regret letting Joel push himself inside of you.

“I’m sorry,” you began, standing and covering yourself with your hands. “You both have to understand my position. I know that you’re not bad people, I know that you don’t trust me, but keeping me here isn’t right.”

“I told you that she was just playin’ with your emotions. She doesn’t care about you, she just wants you to let your guard down,” Joel scoffed, crossing his arms across his chest.

You stepped closer to Tommy, needing to get your point across. “I do care about you, Tommy. I know that you’re a good person, just trying to survive. I’ve had to do the same.”

Joel moved towards you, trying to square you off from his brother. “You don’t know us, little girl. Just because you let us get between your legs doesn’t mean that you know either of us.”

Stiffening up, you squared your shoulders and stood as tall as you could. You locked your gaze on Joel’s, not allowing him to have the upper hand in this conversation.

“I’m not Sarah, Joel. You can’t control me, as much as you wish you could.”

The expression on Joel’s face was deadly, and if looks could kill, you would be lying in a pool of blood at his feet. He closes the short distance between you, his teeth clenched and fist balled tight.

“If you ever say her name again, it’ll be the last thing you say,” he hissed, his fist wavering by his side. “Do you understand?”

As much as you wanted to spout something back at him, you knew better. If you kept pushing him and pushing him, he would eventually bite you right back.

“Fine,” you spat, turning your head away from Joel. It made no sense, he had just given you the best orgasm of your life, but now you wanted to fucking kill him. You understood what it was like to lose someone, to have scars so deep that they never fully healed. It could turn you into a monster. Joel, unfortunately, had succumbed to the latter.

“Deal with your fuckin’ girlfriend. I need some air,” Joel said, grabbing his rifle before walking out of the cabin. The air in the cabin was still tense with the heat of Tommy’s eyes burning through you.

“I fucked up, Tommy, I know. I’m so sorry,” you begged. His mouth was a hard, narrow line, clearly trying to keep his fury at bay.

“The one thing I asked, the one thing, and you couldn’t do it.”

He scoffed, glancing down at your still half-naked body. “And then you tried to run away, brought up Sarah, and slept with him? Christ, what a fuckin’ mess.”

Tommy couldn’t even bring himself to look at you, and it made the pit in your stomach sink a few more inches down.

“I’m sorry Tommy. I care about both of you,” you tried to explain, but Tommy just shook his head.

“Go wash up. Should have some water in the tub,” Tommy said, dismissing you. You paused, hesitating to leave the conversation. You hadn’t gotten any resolution - it wasn’t fair. Joel and Tommy couldn’t just expect you not to retaliate.

Talking to Tommy wasn’t going to resolve anything. You’d have to gain their trust back again, slowly, and you would be lucky if you even got it back through just time. No, you would have to prove it to them.

Time passed since then. It was getting towards the end of winter, the snow less harsh and cold a little more bearable. With the way things were going, winter would be finished in just a few weeks. With winter being over, you could survive on your own again, you could take the risk to escape.

You just needed one distraction. Anything.

You did everything you could to regain Joel and Tommy’s trust. Preparing dinner, tagging along for any wood gathering; you had even cleaned the house when Joel complained about the dust lining the kitchen cabinets.

When Joel had returned home from patrolling the perimeter, the look of surprise to see a spotless cabin made you bite back your smile. Even though he didn’t say thank you, he gave you a bit more of his food in a silent reward.

He had even gone out of his way to search the basement for tampons for you after he heard you complaining to Tommy about it. Joel acted like he hated you, but something made him sleep with you. Something was there.

Though Tommy still didn’t let himself grow incredibly close to you, things did get somewhat better. He allowed you to spend time taking watch with him some nights, spending the night talking about whatever came to your mind first. Whether it be “What would be your dream job” or “if you could time travel, would you go to the past or the future” - the conversation always felt easy with Tommy.

It felt like he was trying so hard to not trust you, but the moment he sat down with you, he talked to you like an old friend. Maybe it was because he had been tied to Joel for so long, years of the same conversations over and over again. You were new to him, a new presence to absorb. You understood why it was so easy for Tommy to fall into old habits.

You were sitting up with Tommy when it happened. Joel was asleep in the bed, and you didn’t have it in you to lay with him. Sometimes you shared the bed with Tommy, and Joel would take the couch, but you had never laid with Joel. After what had happened, the intimacy you shared with him - sharing a full-sized mattress would feel like a prison sentence.

So, you stayed up on watch with Tommy while Joel slept. He had passed you the bottle of Jack one too many times, and you were buzzing a little bit in your seat.

“I hope the snow lets up before I gotta go out and do my rounds. I’m gonna end up freezin’ my dick off,” Tommy groaned, stretched out on the couch. The light from the lantern lit up the small space, casting shadows over Tommy’s face.

He was a handsome man, you had to admit that. Just like his brother, who was softly snoring a couple of meters away.

“You better make it quick. I’m not going out there to find your dick if it falls off,” you said back, making Tommy snort in amusement.

“Yeah, I bet you’d like that. Probably wouldn’t even give it back to me,” he said. His legs were stretched out, his knee pressing into the meat of your thigh. Tommy’s warmth comforted you, as much as it probably shouldn’t have.

“You’re sick,” you said back, trying to get a laugh out of Tommy, but he was suddenly shockingly serious. His eyes widened as he straightened up in his seat, hand reaching down to the revolver at his side.

You followed his eyes, turning your head until you finally saw it. Three people standing in the tight hallway, directly in front of Joel’s room. They must’ve snuck in from the cellar since you didn’t hear the sound of the window breaking.

Tommy’s hand lifts quickly, aiming the gun at the group. His free palm pulls at your arm, standing up to tug you behind him. He uses his back to shield you from the group. He’s protecting you.

“Y’all don’t have any business bein’ in here. I’d suggest you go back out the way you came from,” Tommy spoke, loudly, as if to wake Joel. They were blocking the door so neither of you could see if he was still asleep in the bed.

The group was made up of two men and a woman. They almost mirrored you, a short woman with two hulking men surrounding her. The way that they were dressed revealed that they were raiders, with one of the men wearing a necklace of teeth. A hum started buzzing through your brain at the situation - this was bad.

“Seems like it’s quite cozy in here. You wouldn’t believe how bad it’s snowing outside. You should let us stay,” the woman spoke, grinning up at Tommy. Her smile was sinister, laced with wickedness.

Tommy stiffened up, cocking his revolver before raising the gun directly at the woman. “I won’t ask again.”

Before anyone could even react, a gunshot rang out. The man with the teeth necklace had a bullet rush through his brain, gasping before dropping down to his knees.

“Johnny!” the woman shrieked, her other male partner swinging around to see where the shot came from. They finally parted from the front of the bedroom door, revealing Joel aiming his own rifle at the group.

The lantern that was sitting in the living room barely cast enough light to even see Joel, but you were able to see enough. He looked deadly, like death himself. You hadn’t seen him like this before; even with you, he had never come off that furious.

The man who was still standing lunged at Joel while he was attempting to reload, both men fighting over the gun.

Tommy spun to you, cradling the side of your face. “Stay back. We got it, okay?”

He turned back, approaching the woman who just unsheathed a machete. As soon as she lunged at Tommy, you heard the flash of a gunshot light up the room. The bullet swished past your face, a hair length away from touching your skin. You could feel the heat of the bullet.

“Fuckin’ bastard,” you heard Joel shout, jumping onto the man to rip his rifle out of his hands. Tommy had wrestled the machete out of the woman’s hands, but his own gun was a couple of meters away, tucked under the table in the corner of the room.

A loud clatter from the bedroom showed Joel and the man wrestling around on the ground, the rifle long forgotten about. The brothers were fighting for their lives, it was no longer up for debate.

You have to do something. You glanced over at the front door, unblocked and easy to access. You could leave. You could run out into the snow and run for your life, and let these two groups fight to the death.

It would be easy. Your jacket was right at the door, you could grab it on the way out. It could work.

But then you looked over at Joel, who was straddling the intruder. His biceps were bulging from how hard he was choking him, muscles flexing in the excitement of the kill.

Moving your frantic eyes back over to Tommy, you saw the woman lay a rough punch to the side of Tommy’s jaw. His head snapped to the side with a sickening crack that made her cackle in pleasure. Tommy was momentarily disoriented, which the woman took advantage of.

She turned to lunge at the machete while also ripping her own gun out and aiming it at Joel in an attempt to save her friend. You found yourself jumping on top of her before you could even throw one last look at the front door. She hadn’t even reached the machete yet, thank god, but you still had to rip the gun out of her hands so she wouldn’t be able to shoot Joel.

“Little bitch,” the woman hissed when you slipped your hands around her neck. She clawed at your palms, your wrists, leaving jagged nail marks embedded into your skin.

Your ears were ringing, your face hot and pulsing. It had been so long since you had killed anyone, it felt simply barbaric. To watch the life slowly drain from her eyes, empty and gray.

“P-please,” she gasped, punching her fists softly against your chest. Your head was pulled back high, glaring down at her without an ounce of remorse on your face. She had tried to rob you, to hurt Tommy, to hurt Joel. She deserves this.

After a couple more tight grips of your palms, she stopped struggling beneath you. Heavy, breathy gasps left your throat while a low gurgling sound left hers. The sound of death was never a comforting one, but you found yourself unable to release her throat. Long after she had taken her last breath, you still found yourself strangling her, your knuckles white from the pressure.

“Hey… kiddo,” graveled Joel from behind you. He pressed his palm against your shoulder, his hand heavy and distracting. You stop, glancing up around the room. All three of the intruders were now lifeless, lying haphazardly around the cabin. Thank god that there wasn’t too much blood.

“It’s over,” Joel whispered, rubbing his palm in circles against your shoulder. “Let her go.”

You didn’t even feel yourself release your iron grip - instead, you watched, like you were in an out-of-body experience.

Tommy’s hand is warm on the small of your back. He gently pulls you away from the woman, her body still warm under your palms. He holds you into his grip, trying to make you meet his eyes as he speaks. “Hey,” he says, voice filled with tenderness. “It’s okay. It was her or us, alright?”

He’s speaking to you as if you’re fragile, as if you’ll break. But your hands don’t shake, and even though her eyes are open and watching you lifelessly, you don’t feel any regret. Tommy’s warmth seeps beneath your skin as he attempts to comfort you, but it’s Joel who you look to for answers. “I did what I had to,” you say. “Right?”

Joel nods, eyes full of certainty. “You did what you had to.”

Tommy and Joel took care of the bodies, even leaving you alone while they did it. Killing her had gained their trust. She was the key.

But still, you didn’t leave while they were gone. You couldn’t bring yourself to. So, when they returned, they comforted you and allowed you the have the entire bed to yourself.

“Won’t be able to sleep now anyways,” Joel muttered.

You move through the next day in a thick fog. You’ve seen death your whole life, and have done your fair share of bloody deeds. But for some reason, this feels different. Weighted. Like maybe fleeing when the opportunity presented itself instead of killing them will have lasting effects.

When Tommy suggests that you get some rest early in the evening, you agree with him. He sees you safely to the bed, pulls the blankets over you, and urges you to sleep.

But you don’t, of course. And when the door creaks open again, Joel’s heavy footsteps enter the room. The mattress bows beneath his weight as he sits beside you. “What you…” He stops. Reaches up to squeeze the scruff along his jaw. “What you did today…I know it’s not easy. But…I want you to know, too that it’s…that I appreciate it. You saved Tommy. Saved me. So…you know. Thank you.”

Though you’re unsure what exactly possessed you to do it, you find Joel’s hand in the dark and slide your fingers through his. His grip is strong and his palm calloused, but there’s a gentleness in the way he cradles your small hand in his that surprises you. The urge rises in you to ask him again, to hear those reassuring words that the decision you made in killing someone with your bare hands was the correct one.

But you already know the answer he’ll give, because your brutality means he gets to see another day. What you don’t know, however, is why he leans over and softly presses a kiss to your forehead. You don’t know why it ignites a fire in your chest, either. Something akin to desire but not quite.

“Dinner’s ready,” he says. “Tommy fixed you a plate.”

And for the first time, it’s a dinner without the weight of Joel’s glare from across the table. His stare is now filled with something different, something that feels a whole lot like adoration. Like he was truly grateful for what you did.

You help Tommy with the dishes, and when you tell him you’re ready for bed he wraps an arm around your shoulders and promises to fend off nightmares, promises you only good dreams.

But you realize as he wraps himself around you, smothering you in the masculine, pine scent of him, that it’s not just good dreams you want.

You want him.

Tommy leads you back to the bedroom, and on the way you pass the bloodstain on the floorboards. A stark reminder of what had happened, of what you’d done for them.

For both of them.

You can feel Tommy’s gaze on the side of your face as the two of you linger in the doorway of the bedroom. Joel sits on the couch, whittling knife in hand, permanent crease between his brows. He’s so handsome, so dark and brooding and mysterious in a way that keeps you on your toes, a way that draws you in like a moth to a flame.

It isn’t just Tommy you want. When you look back at him, you think the yearning must be written on your face.

Because he doesn’t even ask the question, doesn’t even seem surprised by it. Tommy just nods once and says, “Go on, then. Ask him.”

You swallow, taking a deep breath to prepare yourself for what is about to happen. For what you wanted to happen.

“Joel?”

He raises his head to look up at you. There’s a moment of hesitation as he stares down your outstretched hand that reaches for him, but then he’s setting his knife down on the table and wrapping his calloused palm around your fingers instead.

Tommy crawls into the bed and lifts the blanket for you, a beacon of warmth, of familiarity, of kindness. You melt against him, and it feels good, but when Joel toes off his boots and you can feel him at your back it’s different. Better than good. It’s…perfect. Satisfying. Wedged between them, a soft center to all their strength, you wonder how this sick desire that rumbles low in your belly has managed to go undetected for so long.

You turn between them, facing Joel instead. Tommy’s hands find your waist, dipping beneath your shirt, the tips of his fingers brushing against the bare skin just above the hem of your jeans. Joel’s eyes are heated and intense, drinking you in, swallowing you whole.

He brushes a stray piece of your hair behind your ear at the same time that Tommy’s hand dips beneath your waistband.

Silently, you wonder if they can hear the way your heart beats behind your ribcage. A loud, incessant hum that reverberates in your ears.

Tommy’s hand sinks lower, wriggling in the small space between your skin and the denim. He slides his fingers gently over your clit, and when your lips part in a gasp Joel traces over your mouth with his thumb. You can feel Tommy at your back, cock hardening as he presses it against your ass. He kisses your shoulder over the fabric of your shirt and says, “Wet already, filthy little girl.”

There’s no sense in denying it. No sense in fighting it off, not when your desire has overcome all sense, drowned out by nothing other than the aching need for them. For both of them.

Joel slips the pad of his thumb into your mouth, rubbing it against the tip of your tongue. “Suck it. Put that mouth to good use.” You nod, obeying his command before hollowing out your cheeks to suck on his thumb. You whimper around it at the feeling of Tommy’s middle finger rubbing tight circles into your clit. His pointer finger spreads your folds, working at the wetness pooling in your panties.

“You always get this wet?” Tommy asked, finally pushing his finger into your throbbing heat. You gasp, looking up at Joel through a hazy gaze, watching the dark expression on his face. “Or is it just because of us?”

You nod your head, rocking your hips against Tommy’s palm. “Fuck, yes,” you moan into Joel’s thumb, not even properly answering the question but neither of them seem to mind. Tommy’s finger still works through your pussy, curling around in your tight, wet heat.

“Playin’ with her pussy shuts her up quick. We should've done it together weeks ago,” Joel teases before reaching down to unbuckle his pants. The sound of the metal belt clanging and his zipper being pulled down makes you shudder into Tommy’s body.

Should you feel guilty for how much you enjoy this? Feeling worshipped? Feeling wanted. For so long you had drifted, never truly having a place. After the death of your father, it was solidified, that you weren’t important to anyone. Nobody had come to your defense, nobody had tried to protect you.

But Joel did, and so did Tommy. And even though the situation was a little fucked up, you couldn’t help the way your hips stuttered when Joel pressed his cock against your lips. Without hesitating, you wrapped your tight mouth around his girthy length, humming pleasure at the feeling of his dick stretching out your throat.

“You belong to us, don’t you?” Tommy asked, playing with your clit as he continued to finger you. The combined sound of Tommy’s fingers slamming into your cunt and your mouth sucking Joel off had your head spinning. It was overstimulation of the best kind, Tommy’s cock hard and chasing relief by rutting into your ass.

You nodded, watering eyes still glued to Joel’s face. The look of pure pleasure on his face was enough to tip you closer to the edge, a ragged whimper moaned into Joel’s cock. His neck was flushed, knuckles white, and clenched into a fist. It was empowering, having this big, brooding man at your mercy.

They’re both so stubborn and strong but for you, they break. It’s this thought, combined with the fullness in your mouth and the feel of Tommy’s fingers working between your thighs that sends you reeling, an orgasm wrenching through you mercilessly.

Within seconds, before you even get a chance to come down from the height of it, Tommy’s dragging your jeans down your legs and unbuttoning his own. “S’only fair I get you first, sweetheart,” he says. He wraps his hand around your knee and drapes your thigh over his hip, positioning himself behind you.

And you want him, you do, but every nerve ending flares on edge. Every inch of your skin feels too sensitive, too tender. You pull your head back, making just enough room in your mouth to mutter around Joel’s cock, “Tommy, slow down, wait-”

“Nah, baby,” he says. “Wanna show you what you’ve been missin’. Waited too fuckin’ long to spread these legs of yours to wait anymore.” And then he’s pushing into you, the sticky remnants of your orgasm smoothing out any resistance he encounters.

Joel takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger, a strangely gentle touch, and says softly, “Mouth open, little girl.”

You look only at Joel as Tommy grips your hip and begins to rock slowly into you, breath hitching in your throat as the head of his cock nudges against the deepest parts of you. You part your lips, and Joel slides himself back into your mouth, down your throat.

Tommy’s heat behind you blankets you in a sweet warmth, and despite his eagerness, you’re delighted to hear the groans that leave his mouth. You like that this is making him happy, you like that you’re making him feel good. “So tight,” he murmurs against your shoulder. “Always knew this pussy would be good. From the moment I saw you, baby, I knew it. Can feel her squeezin’ me, wanna feel how wet she gets when I make her cum a second time.”

The thought of it makes you whimper around Joel’s cock. He laughs, thumb stroking lightly over your cheekbone. “Think she’d like that, Tommy,” he says.

It’s so strange to see him like this. Scowling, uptight Joel-soft and delicate as he cherishes you, as he worships you as if you’re something holy. As if killing for him has altered his brain chemistry, flipped a switch, and made him see you in a brand new light.

Joel reaches between your legs and presses the tip of his middle finger against your clit. It aches beneath his touch, sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. “Wouldn’t you? Hm?”

You can’t speak, but you moan around his cock and hollow out your cheeks, sucking him harder. A flush creeps up Joel’s neck and he lets out a low groan in response.

Tommy thrusts his cock into you at a steady pace, pawing at your hip. You clench your walls around him and his rhythm falters. “Oh, she likes that, Joel,” he says. “S’that feel good, baby?”

It’s all too much-the filthy words, the pressure on your clit, the fullness in your belly, the ache that settles in your jaw. And then there’s the way Joel looks at you, and before you realize it you’re shuddering, your second orgasm ripping apart what remains of your defenses.

You may have stolen from them but the two brothers have stolen from you, too. Stolen connection and fondness and sentiment—things you’d sworn off long ago.

But as Joel strokes your clit sloppily, attention faltering as he chases his release with you, how can you keep yourself from feeling something for him? How can you see this big, brooding man become delicate for you only, and keep yourself from the edge of devotion?

“Yeah, there you go,” Tommy whispers. “Cum for us. Soakin’ my fuckin’ cock, little girl. That’s it. That’s it, baby.”

Joel’s release is salty as it hits the back of your tongue, but you swallow it down, taking him into your mouth as far as you can.

“Goddamn,” he hisses, and it’s like music to your ears. A crude praise. His hands tremble as he slowly descends, that permanent crease between his brows finally smoothing over.

Tommy’s hips stutter. You reach your hand back and thread your fingers through his hair, gently scratching at his scalp. His grunts fill the room and you can feel his cock as it twitches inside you. “Fuck,” he breathes. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum, baby.”

You don’t register the fact that he already is until it’s too late, until the stickiness spills out of you, coating the inside of your thighs. There’s so much, and you’d be angry about it if it didn’t make your skin ignite with desire, another fresh wave of arousal.

Because as stupid as it is, as irresponsible as it is for him to cum inside you, you like that for once, he didn’t ask—he just takes. As if you belong to him, as if you always have.

He sighs contentedly, and slowly pulls himself out of you. “Best fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever had, sweetheart,” he says, falling back against the pillows.

Joel tucks himself back into his jeans and crawls onto the mattress beside you, stroking your hair as you lay your head on his chest. You can hear the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear, a soothing beat.

“Which was the best dick, little girl?” There’s a little bit of amusement in Tommy’s tone as he asks it. “Which brother was better?”

Joel leans up just enough to scowl at Tommy. “That’s enough,” he says firmly, leaving no room for argument. “Let it go.”

Tommy laughs, and you fight off the smile that threatens to form on your face as the three of you settle back into the sheets. “Alright, fine,” he says. “Joel, you take watch. I’m exhausted.”

Within moments, Tommy’s soft snores fill the room. You lay there in silence, your head on Joel’s chest, for so long you think he may have fallen asleep, too. But after some time, his chest rises as he inhales a deep breath.

He says, “I always plan for the worst. Don’t like surprises. But…I’ll admit, I didn’t plan for you. Kinda blindsided me.”

Joel’s words blindside you. This had always been the plan, to gain their trust just enough to escape, to be successful your second time around. But you’re not sure why it hurts, or why his dance around an admission makes your chest pull tight. But maybe you’re taking it out of context, maybe you're assuming too much. “What do you mean?”

For a moment he just stares at you, eyes roaming over every minute detail of your face, pupils blown wide. Finally, he says, “Nothin.’ I’ll explain another time.” And before you can change his mind, he’s shifting out from under you and lacing up his boots. “I’ll go and do the rounds. Get some rest, alright?”

Joel glances down at you, his eyes still full of contemplation and something else that you couldn’t quite read. He leaned down quickly, pressing a heavy kiss against your lips, taking your breath away. The rough hair of his beard scratched your face in the most delicious way, but the kiss also felt heavy. Like Joel had something on his mind but could only bring himself to express it by tasting your tongue.

His forehead pressed against your own momentarily before he raised back up. Joel’s large palm held your face gently, his touch completely different from the Joel you’d known so far. The man who had shot you, who had fucked you into submission. You knew that there was something in him that was soft and malleable. You had finally found it.

“Sleep,” Joel said, pulling his fingers away from your face. The tips of his fingers left goosebumps in their trace, and you felt the weight of the situation set in. This was it. The moment Joel left to do his regular route, you could go the opposite way. Joel’s route was one that you had memorized because you went on the same one with Tommy. It would be easy to avoid him. It would be easy to leave.

Joel left the room quietly, cracking the door closed behind him. It only took him a couple of minutes to shrug on his jacket, grab his rifle, and head out of the front door. If you timed it right, in ten minutes he should reach the east corner of the cabin’s perimeter, which would give you enough time to leave before he is even near the cabin.

Sitting up slowly, you glanced over at Tommy, who was still softly snoring. You slide off of the bed, rifling through the side drawer to grab Tommy’s pocket knife. Quietly, you go through one of the unused canvas bags, pilling up the same supplies you had stolen so long ago. Food, ammo, batteries - anything that could help you survive on your own.

You stood at the doorway of the bedroom, watching the lantern light wash across Tommy’s face. After being with him for so long, it hurt to walk away. Even though it was a sticky situation, quite literally, you still found yourself caring for the brothers.

‘Goodbye, Tommy,’ you thought to yourself before leaving the bedroom. Striding across the living room, you could feel your heart thump in your throat at the sweet taste of freedom. You grabbed Joel’s spare jacket, tugging it over your shoulders.

This is it. You don’t have to stay here.

You remembered the feeling of Joel’s lips on your lips, the way Tommy rutted against your hips. The feeling of being wanted. The feeling of being protected.

You were scared to leave. But you had to.

The snow crunched under your feet when you walked out of the cabin’s front door. It was late in the night, the air crisp and heavy in your lungs. You saw your feet running before you actually processed that you were sprinting through the woods. The more you ran, the deeper the snow got, the icy slush melting into the bottom of your jeans.

You didn’t run into Joel, or Tommy, or anyone else for that matter. You couldn’t remember how long you ran for, or how far you had gotten, but your legs continued to stomp into the wet ground beneath your feet. The heat from the morning sun warming up your face was enough to let you know that you were finally free.

[luceafarul-de-dimineata]

Asmodeus NSFW alphabet

Fuck you, I'm tagging myself in this one. This one is a gift to myself @luceafarul-de-dimineata

Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

It doesn't matter who topped and who subbed, this man will take care of you after sex. He gives the best aftercare out of all the demons since he's got the most experience out of them all. He'll stay with you until you fall asleep in his arms. And because he's a gentleman unlike another demon king, he'll be there the next morning as well.

Body Part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's)

His favorite body part of his is his hair. You cannot convince me that this man doesn't use half of his country's budget on hair treatments and oils. He has the silkiest hair known to mankind and he loves when you play with it.

Asmodeus loves every part of you. He just loves humans. If he had to choose it would be legs. Thighs, calfs, feet, he's not a pussy, he loves it all. He loves bitting down on them and leaving you covered in bite marks and hickies on your inner thighs.

Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

His cum is so fertile it can overide birth-control. Also its a cure for his horny poison. So, if you can get pregnant and you sleep with Asmodeus, you will get pregnant with his spawn. It's fine, he's a good father.

Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Secrets are for losers. I guess the closest thing to a dirty secret would be that he likes poisoning his partners before sex. Makes it more primal, more desprate. You're no longer fucking for pleasure, you're doing it for survival. It's not really a secret though because he'll admit to it if asked.

Experience (how experienced are they? Do they know what they're doing?)

... do I really need to answer this one? He has had sex with half of the human population. He has more experience than would be possible for a mortal. Since it could get up he's been fucking daily.

Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He loves all possitions, but he really likes breeding press. It has breeding in the name, of course he'd like it. But he will never complain about any possition. Inspite of his age he's one flexible geezer so he can pull out the weirdest positions with no problem

Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous?)

It depends on what you want, but he enjoys making you nervous with his teasing. He can't stay serious for long, he just likes teasing and taunting too much. If he's a sub, he'll be a brat, if he's a dom he'll edge you for an hour.

Hair (how well groomed are they?)

He likes to cut his pubes in different cute shapes - hearts, stars, he once tried to do the Mona Lisa. He'll never fully shave or let a full bush grow. He washes his pubic hair after every sex session.

Intimacy (how are they during the moment? The romantic aspect)

Asmodeus is romantic the whole way through. You will be wined and dined before he picks you up bridal style and lays you on the bed. The stripping is his favorite part, he loves pealing off every layer of cloth you have on while kissing every inch of skin that gets revealed.

Fucking Asmodeus is the most loved you have feeled in your life.

Jack Off (masturbation headcanons)

He only masturbated during maternity leave. He could barely sleep when Dantalian was little and crawling all over the place, much less have nice 4 hour long sex with a lover. So during bathroom breaks he would rub it quickly and go back to his son. After Dantalian turned 3 year old he started leaving him with the other kings so he could go see his human partners again, so he stopped masturbating.

Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Where do I even start with this one. He tried them all and he's willing to do them again. It's very hard to surprise him with something sexual. You know what, put a pin in this one, I'll make a post with only his kinks (tldr: he likes humans. A lot)

Location (favorite place to do the do)

He would rather go someplace intimate during the more passionate sessions, but another one of his favorites is your ex's bed. It's funny, ok??? Don't judge him. Even if you aren't ex's he wants to fuck you on the other kings' beds as well. The possibility of getting caught excites him to the very core. His curious how they'll react finding their least favorite person fucking their precious child of Solomon. It doesn't matter if they get angry, he'll just use his poison and make them take their anger out in a different way.

Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You specificly. He absolutely adores humans, finds them the most interesting beings out there and he'd rather fuck a human than his own kind. BUT, he fucking hated Solomon. He put him in a jar, damn it! Yeah, they did fuck and kiss but they hated eachother. Enemies and lovers. And he kind of misses having a guy to annoy 24/7 consequence free. This all changed when you came to hell. He's chilled out a lot since Solomon died, but being able to make love to one of his rival's children is a thought that always gets him going.

No (Something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

...Not to get canceled or anything, but I'm pretty sure this guy tried sticking it in everything at some point. Including more illegal stuff. It's fine! He's not going to do it again! He has learned his lesson, Princess Celestia, put that gun down!

He won't fuck you if you're one of his decendent. And he won't have a threesome with Dantalian involved. There, those are the two lines he won't cross. He's seen what incest can do even to royal blood.

Oral (preference in giving or recieving, skills, etc.)

He likes giving more. But he's a fucking bitch about it. For Asmodeus, oral is both forplay and aftercare, but it's never the whole sexual experience for the night. He either starts the night by giving you the most maticulate oral imaginable or he eats out all the cum he's fucked into you for the last three hours. Remember, the hornier you get, the hornier he gets, the difference is only in stamina. He'll pull the "you wanted me to give you oral but you never mentioned for how long. Be more specific next time, bunny."

Pace (are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual?)

He likes it slow and sensual. He's not rushing anything. The slower, the better. He knows human limits better than anyone else, so he knows he won't be able to fuck you for as long as he would like (read: always and forever) so he wants to feel you around him for as long as possible. He doesn't fuck, he makes love.

Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often)

He doesn't like to rush things. I mean, yeah, there's a war in his country but pffff, who gives a shit about that. He might have a quickie before a very important meeting with the other kings. Then again, "quickie" for Asmodeus is about half an hour, so prepare yourself.

Risk (are they willing to experiment? Do they take risks?)

He has tried everything but humans are so fun and unique that he wants to try them on again. He has a book with all the sex possitions he's tried before and he ranks them on how pleasurable, relaxing, romantic and aesthetic they are, so he'll use all of them on you and then try to find some new ones. He's imortal but the world around him isn't, and he wants to have a taste of it all.

Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

Each round is about 5 minutes and he can go for as many rounds as you'd like. Trust me, when it comes to sex, you are not outlasting the pro. He used to cum faster, but he got better at holding it in for longer with time. If it weren't for the fact you have to do stuff outside the bedroom he would have kept you on his dick 24/7

Toys (do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partener or themselves)

There'a no sex toys in Hell... except in the castle of Abaddon. He spent the most time with humans and he got to see all the nifty little inventions they've got up there. He would never tell the other kings because either they'll make fun of him for not being able to cum without plastic (false, sex toys weren't made of plastic when he first shoved a plug up his ass) or they'll try to get on the trend. He's very secretive about his collection, not even his nobles or son know about it. You're the very first he shows it to... before proceeding to try them all out on you

Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Making people nervous is his hobby. No matter his place in the sheets, he'll be teasing the whole way through. The only way to stop his mouth from running is to gag him, but not even that would stop him. Actions speak louder than words, and he can do a lot with his body even if he's tied up.

Volume (how loud are they? What sounds do they make?)

He talks constantly. He teases you, praises you, degrades you, calls you every nickname under the sun. His moans are almost melodic and he makes weirdly sexual sounds even in non-sexual situations. For exemple, when he's excited he lets out a deep whimper that almost sounds like a purr. His laugh is almost that of a hyena's and he sometimes quietly hisses when something displeases him.

Wildcard (a random headcanon for the character)

He sucked his own dick once. He's very flexible and his dick is just big enough that if he bend at the right angle he can suck his tip. He used to do it as a party trick back when Beelzebub and Mammon used to invite him to parties.

X-ray (let's see what's going on under those clothes)

His clothing leaves little to the imagination, but he might humor the notion of wearing some actual clothes from time to time. He's exactly 20 cm long but it lacks girth. His tip is almost like an arrow and it's much redder than the rest of his penis.

Yearning (how high is their sex drive)

Very. But he can be surprisingly chill if need be. He's not like his citizens, he can actually have a non-sexual relationship if you do not want that. He's pliant to your desires, but always know that if you aren't going to fulfill his sexual desires, he'll find another way to do so.

Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He falls asleep cuddled up to you. He loves having your face pressed to his chest as he plays with your hair and you play with his. You both fall asleep at about the same time, your hearts in sync as you fall into slumber.

[nqmonarch]

Red Flags in HSR Characters

I have a problem of simping for the most red flagged characters except I can't handle red flags. Like violence makes me nope the fuck out of any relationship, I am so scared of getting hurt in any way, shape, or form. In real life I'm fucking terrified of being manipulated into being dependent on someone because I've experienced that shit and it isn't fun. Hate being insulted, degraded, all of that.

But the red flagged characters are just too cool???

Like Dr. Ratio, sure he's a pompous shit and would probably end up degrading you which I hate but he's so cool?! So I need to find some way to make him into this weird yellow flag without making myself into some super genius because no way is that gonna happen.

So instead put him in like a tutor AU, he's teaching you and when you get something wrong he gives you such a side ways insult. Like it takes a minute to realize it's an insult, it's worded in such a creative peculiar way. The second it registers you begin doing ten times worse on every question. It doesn't take long for him to realize that being told you're shit isn't inspiring to everyone. So he takes a... kinder approach. He's still a hard ass and strict but he's actively trying to do better and you can tell, when he starts a sentence suddenly stops and then brings that sentence in a completely different direction. You both end up learning. You end up learning the material and he ends up learning how to be somewhat better at dealing with people whose ideal day isn't being insulted.

Then there's the aeons. i simp for all of them, like how can you not??? Especially Nanook (using he/him pronouns for Nanook), Yaoshi, IX, and Aha. Now first off IX isn't a red flag IX is a lovely little black hole who I will defend with my life. But the other three??? They're as red as a stop sign.

Like sure, Nanook would probably destroy you the first chance he gets. Maybe Nanook is the destruction because he wants to be destroyed. I, I don't know man. Like he's so beautiful but how the hell do you even write romance with him? That isn't just like destroying the love interest.

Maybe he's had an insatiable urge to destroy everything ever since the dawn of his existence and he can't remember why. He's always been filled with rage, hatred, toward everything that's existed. Then he sees you and it all comes rushing back toward him. Your death, the hole it filled, the only thing that could really be blamed was the universe. It was everyone and everything's fault. So he would destroy it all to protect you.

Still a red flag but man I'm trying my best, no matter what Nanook will always be a red flag. Yaoshi on the other hand... surely there's a way I can make Yaoshi into a yellow flag after all they just want to help.

Yaoshi who would save your entire planet, heal every individual part of the ecosystem and every person, just to see you smile. They would ask nothing in return and instead remain by your side, enjoying the beautiful of the world. Then the mara strikes, people begin to lose their minds and themselves and you're left to beg them for a way to reverse this. But this is the price of life.

Yaoshi assures you that this is natural but they still watch on in horror as you inevitably succumb to the mara as well. Only then do they try to figure out how to fix it.

The further I get the more hopeless I become. Then there's Aha...

They probably found you entertaining at first, a human full of surprises and excitement, someone that could survive any trial. Then you grew on them a bit more and they found himself becoming attached. Aha wasn't supposed to be attached but this of course just makes an opportunity for more entertainment! Now they're actually invested and can experience the nail biting tension of all this drama!

Just another form of entertainment, it'll be a shame when you're gone though.

Then there's all the other beautiful red flags Ruan Mei, Jing Liu, Blade, Luocha, and Aventurine and Sunday seem like red flags as well even though they're not out. Like if bad to date why do I want to date?

Their red flags are a part of them and it's hard to work around it, so sometimes you just gotta embrace it. Life's rough man. In the end it's my fault for liking red flags. I'll just stick to Jing Yuan for now, peak husband material.

[brucewaynehater101]

Inspired by "Jason adopts Tim" fics on AO3, prompts by puppetmaster13u & others on here and that one AO3 fic where because Bruce told Jason pre-death he can take whatever is his and Robin is his it's fair game to nab Tim and the AO3 News Article fic where Red Hood decides the best revenge is tricking the world into thinking he's the Third Robin's dad, some of your posts—

—and my love for inhuman folks

Jason resurrects and he isn't human anymore. Dealer's pick on what he is precisely but he has become much more wary of just how fragile the lives of humans are

How fragile his own life may still be

+ he's got trauma piled on top of his fresh instincts and confusion on what happened after his death

Thus when carving his place as Red Hood, he is more vigilant in making Crime Alley a place where people don't just survive, but live and maybe even thrive.

Putting down threats like predators for good in death. But doing so too much will get Batman breathing down his neck

So he takes some inspiration from Batman after his death and before Tim to inflict some fates worse than death, and rubs it in the Bat's face whenever they face of against each other. "It's not killing B"

He tries—and due to trauma—fails to bring himself to kill Joker. Which crushes him with every crime the Joker (that he in a fucked up sense allowed) commits onwards

Onto the next best thing, acquiring wealth and asking for public donations all over Gotham to build up a sufficient bounty on Joker's head to draw in the most competent killers of them all

Whoever can kill and bring the Joker's remains as evidence gets the money, and the bounty price builds up over time

He'll even add more to the bounty time to time

Jason overworks himself on his Crime Alley to the point his own men compare him to a more benevolent Batman, one who doesn't need an emotional support child

"Could you elaborate on that? I had to spend time out of Gotham for a time and don't know what happened during that span of time"

Batman gave Robin to another

But he didn't revoke Jason's ownership, did he?

Humans are oh so fragile

He knows from experience

In classic not-human logic, that makes the new Baby Bird his now, no? Especially with Batman so incompetent as to depend on him

Titans Tower is not found with Tim bloody and broken

Titans Tower is found without Timothy Drake, and countless leads implicating several yet all seemingly frame job dead-ends

Penguins and Red Hood and Luthor. Joker and Two-Face and beyond

Red Hood is found in a meeting room by his men with a Third Robin—the Robin the city owes guilt and more to—in the Crimelords arms

"B always said that I could take what's mine whenever I want, and he never said it never extended to his . . . My kid. He's mine now . . . "

Words spreads in Gotham City. It spreads indeed

It's fitting, it's fitting. Inheritor of another's name, this Robin, this Red Hood is

Joker Junior and every other tragedy only solidifies Jason's resolve to keep and care for the kid

It's funny. Jason has barely felt human since he woke up from death, since he started overworking himself for his people

Now, with a baby brother in his life? With somebody to care for under his roof? Those domestic times he swore were killed alongside the Second Robin?

This is bliss

Jason feels a weight off his chest when his Merry Men sends a message that the Joker is dead, and the bounty has been sent to the killer

When Jason discovers the Fourth Robin, too dead and revived? when he finds her alive at all? Girl is getting snatched and doted on, especially if he finds her after she's had her baby

And I wouldn't be surprised if he tracked down her kid so she could have raise her baby herself and provided all the resources and support nessecery for it

[Daughter and grandchild acquired!]

When Damian comes and the Robin mantle is passed down onto him— yoinked by Jason again!

Damian is fuming because he wasn't told that this was part of being Robin!

=======

"If you're right that Batman is trapped in the timestream, that everyone is wrong about him being dead, before presenting this to the Justice League I think this should be a family discussion.

"Because I know otherwise I'd do everything in my power to let him die for real. Ensure nobody is the wiser that Bat could've been saved.

"And at least one of the Bats will disagree with me. And this is a scenario where everybody needs to have their input accounted for."

Oooh! All of this is fantastic, but I especially love the end.

The end combines a healthier approach to the BruceQuest with a trope I love: leaving Bruce in the timestream because fuck that guy. Regardless of what they decide, I'm glad Jason at least indicated it was an option.

I wonder where Dick and Cass are in all of this. I'm also curious about how Jason would react to the We Are Robins movement. Does he adopt every Robin or just those acknowledged by Batman?

[sarioh]

rio i miss and love you and your analysis posts. what are your thoughts on the clethubs dynamic this season (in anticipation of the new episode tmrw)

hi aleph thank you so much for giving me a green flag to just drop a 1000 word rant about clethubs also sorry i missed the deadline and also sorry about the length. anyways personally i think clethubs is what you get when you put 3 people who are burdened with Remembering in a world where no one else really seems to. like, of course the other players remember and make references to events of the past, but they don’t remember in the way these three do.

to me this is best explained through a breakdown of Trust and how it manifests between each of them indiviudally. etho, especially, is so distrusted by most of the server. he’s a schemer, he has a reputation of being really unreadable and also unpredictable, but if you actually try to understand him it’s really easy to see that he’s actually the most straightforward person alive. he operates purely on debts and repayments. not debts in a trade sense—those are a business transaction and subject to being logically dissected and exploited. but debts in an emotional sense. etho offered grian mercy in limited life because of the diamond sword in episode 1, which grian had forgotten about entirely all the while etho had been biding his time and waiting for a chance to repay it all season.

cleo is the only person on the server who seems to really understand this part of etho, and therefore is the only person who seems to be able to read his true intentions. not only that, but she's the only one who really seems to approach the concept of loyalty in the same way. in the life series, alliances are feeble and fleeting, and for the most past actions hold no bearing in the future. it doesn’t matter what happened 5 episodes ago—if you’re not on my side now, you’re against me. there’s no such thing for cleo—loyalty and betrayal are not just momentary states of being. if you took something dear from me 5 episodes ago, i will never fully allow myself to need you again. even if we're in the final five and our survival depends on each other.

cleo and etho were direct antagonists in the last season and have no reason to trust each other now, but they trust openly despite it because better than most they understand the burden of a debt unpaid, and the burden of remembering in a way that no one else seems to. to them, loyalty isn’t about who you arbitrarily align yourself with, it’s a gesture. it’s “you gave me an extra pair of diamond leggings 3 episodes ago for no reason when you could’ve given it to your allies and now you have no idea that youre in my good books forever.” you can be on opposites ends of a war from someone but if they extend you a moment of mercy, well, how are you supposed to forget that? how are you not supposed to spend the rest of your life repaying that? they both subconsciously keep lists, not just of people they want to kill (like so many other players seem to), but of people who have extended a hand to them in a time where it didn't really make sense to. of gestures that were silently meaningful towards people they care about. "i trust you because bdubs trusted you" etc etc.

it makes so much sense that cleo and etho would both go immediately to becoming sworn allies this season after being bitter enemies in the previous series. because they both understand that there’s no such thing as fleeting alliances, and when they've decided to choose each other, it’s more than just a shared base or a team name—it’s something unshakable. it’s a thousand debts you take turns repaying.

and then theres bdubs, where remembering takes a different form entirely. for him, remembering manifests as shared history. if i chose you before, really chose you, then i’m going to choose you again and again and again. i’m going to hover in your orbit even if you don’t choose me the next time, because you and i both know what we had, even if we’re not supposed to acknowledge it. “that was a different universe, this is a different world. you’re just cleo” but i’m going to spend the rest of the episode hovering longingly by your base anyways. “this is our old thing, if it comes down to it we don’t betray each other” because the loyalty created its roots years ago and has been growing out of control ever since. you ask bdubs where his team is and he shifts uncomfortably and refuses to explicitly call them his allies, insisting that they just showed up around him but he's not really sure.

and just like etho, the other players never fully trust bdubs. he’s fickle with his loyalty and seems to be a split decision away from turning on his friends at any second, but cleo and etho both know that’s not really true either. their trust towards him comes from that Remembering, that fundamental understanding of shared history.

for etho, it’s the push and pull. it’s the knowing that we go so far back that what happens in between never really matters. you got caught in an explosion or a trap that i set in your base? well, good thing we have a hundred more lives to play with so we can just laugh it off like we always do. a stray explosion or a firing squad aren’t an act of betrayal, any more than a mocking comment about your height or a casual threat of violence. and when it really matters, we both know we’d put down our swords.

for cleo, it’s something unshakeable. bdubs, the known traitor of 3rd life, was fiercely protective of her and her alone. so she’s never wary of him the same way anyone else is—she knows that when bdubs really chooses you, then you’re marked for life.

so yeah. clethubs is three guys who share the burden of remembering. and also have some kind of unspoken understanding of each others motives and intentions that no other player seems to have concretely picked up on. but in a way that ultimately just culminates in them acting like freaks around each other and not actually making any direct effort to team mostly because, as usual, etho and bdubs have no idea how to communicate their intentions directly and sincerely like normal people and instead opt to hover in the fringes of each others alliances and make really weird and loaded comments . Anyways

[bibbibib]

Peeta's amputation

One of the things I really wish we'd gotten more information for in the books was the impact of Peeta losing his leg. On himself, on his habits, his reactions, anything really. We don't even know how badly he took it because around that time all Katniss was able to describe was him (understandably) being just happy to have survived it all along with her, plus he was putting on a brave face throughout the interviews, and maybe even in front of her so she would feel less guilty. And, I get it, most of the stuff I'm going to mention is just slice of life and maybe not that important as plot points, but I find them super interesting, for the perspective if anything.

Would Peeta's self-esteem take another deep dive after that? With everything happening during that time (moving out of his parents' house, his falling out with Katniss, being viewed differently by the rest of the district, living alone and possibly lonely, his romantic hopes crushed, PTSD from the Games, etc etc etc) he had a lot of triggers seemingly supporting those thoughts of being useless and uneeded and generally not good enough.

It's so frustrating to lose a limb and have to basically relearn everything from the beginning. How to navigate stairs, how to get in and out of a sitting position, how to balance and not tip over, stuff you've been doing esentially your whole life. And Peeta was athletic, he worked manually, he trusted himself to be capable of doing physical things, so that might have hurt a little more.

How about medical complications? From weird sensations to nerve pain, possibly phantom pains, everything related to his prosthetic leg (which, depending on the type, can get uncomfortable in sooo many ways, especially since he's still a teenager who's growing). And he was dumped at a place with basically no medical care at all, let alone anything specialized. Which, ok, was part of everyone's life in D12 already, but it must have still left a bitter taste... There was no one around to know much about his state, (exept maybe Ripper the liquor seller) and he had to make do on his own.

What if the Capitol had chosen his prosthetic more for aesthetic functions and less for functional? @whenthewallfell has a fantastic post about it, complete with illustrations!

Peeta's artificial foot getting tangled in the vines in the second arena and impeding his ability to run was no funny business. With prosthetic legs, there's usually different kinds for different functions. Your average foot people use to be able to walk is stiff and does a horrible job at supporting these sorts of activities. That's why equipment like running blades exists for amputees who want to be running and jumping. And you have to switch to that before the activity! Peeta apparently never got one. Even if he had, he would have to carry the alternative equipment around in the arena.

Speaking of that, even with a single type of artificial leg/foot, adjustments are frequently needed throughout the day. Most people as far as I understand remove the prosthetic to sleep, but also ball -and-socket models at least move around and need to be put back in place because it gets uncomfortable (sleeves -stump covers- sliding down, etc). The fact that Katniss never mentioned anything like this means that either he was actively not doing it in front of her or she just doesn't wanna talk about it (or maybe his leg is some fancy Capitol tech that doesn't work that way?)

Also, he's got to be hungry. All the time. He needs more food after the amputation, because the rest of his body is compensating for the lost limp and he has to use different muscles/nerves/tendons/etc. that are not designed spesifically for this. The same thing means he gets tired more easily. So Peeta being that active and training for the Quarter Quell while battling insomnia and nightmares with an amputated leg? Even harder than we thought.

[ayyy-pee]

Do Not Answer

Discord 18+ - Twitter - Kofi - Part 2

Pairing: Suguru Geto x Female Reader

Summary: You’d ended things with Suguru a while ago; when his execution was set after he’d slaughtered an entire village and when he’d tried to get you to join him in his endeavors of “cleansing the world”. He’d tried to convince you that this was for the greater good, to make the world a better place. But you weren’t one of his cult followers and you definitely weren’t a murderer. Despite this, Suguru had… a hard time letting go.

Warnings: Mean Suguru Getou, Smut, Vaginal Sex, Threats of Violence, Jealousy, Stalking, Manipulative Behavior, Jealous Behavior, Oral Sex, Unprotected Sex, Breeding, Creampie, Possessive Sex, Possessive Behavior, Death Threats, Choking on cock, Profanity because duh I'm me

You’re lying in bed, scrolling mindlessly on your phone. It’s late and the day has been way too long. After finishing up lectures with your students, you feel absolutely drained. Today’s lesson on cursed energy control wiped you out. All you can think about is finally being able to close your eyes and sleep, but for some reason your mind won’t let you. 

A chilly breeze sneaks through the cracks of the closed window at the foot of your bed.

It’s your second year as a teacher at Tokyo Jujutsu Technical School, though you used to be a student here as well. After graduation, you knew you wouldn’t be able to cut it in the real world and certain…events that took place shortly after your graduation also made you wary to leave. So you accepted a teaching position and moved into the teacher’s dorms.

You enjoyed your work as a teacher. The students depended on you to teach them the necessary skills for survival and you were happy to do so. They filled your life with purpose even if you felt a deep loneliness in the late hours of your room when the day came to an end.

Your phone vibrates, a text window appearing above the array of shirts you’re scrolling through as you fight your boredom with online shopping. 

W: What are you up to right now?

Ah, your current “relationship”, if you could call it that, probably wondering if he could come over. You’d been seeing him casually for a couple of months, nothing serious. You had met him on assignment in Yokosuka. He was a window who had stumbled upon a particularly nasty semi-grade 2 curse and had called the school to assist since windows only possessed enough cursed energy to see curses, but not enough to actually exorcize them. They dispatched you since Nanami had been on assignment elsewhere and the rest was history. 

He was a sweet guy, a little bland, but nice nonetheless. He treated you well, made you laugh sometimes and most importantly he wasn’t a mass murderer . He was simple - safe, probably as close to normal as you’d ever find in the world of jujutsu sorcery. It was exactly what you needed in your life after him . You push the thought to the back of your mind as you type out your response. 

You: Just doing some late night shopping. Might head to bed soon. You?

You were too tired to entertain a guest even if you couldn’t sleep. It was better to just put that out there before he asked to come over. Your phone vibrates again with another text as soon as you hit send. 

DONT FUCKING ANSWER 1: hey

You swipe the message off your screen immediately. 

Nope. No way. 

You continue your scrolling through the shop's online inventory, occasionally responding to W’s text messages. You add a couple cute tops to your shopping cart and a pair of jeans which after a while of scrolling you decide you don’t like that much and remove them from your cart. Your phone buzzes in your hands.

W: I think I’m going to head to bed now, babe. I’ll text you in the morning. Goodnight.

You go to respond when your phone buzzes again.

DONT FUCKING ANSWER 1: Are you up? Can I call you?

You swipe the text away. Another message follows.

DONT FUCKING ANSWER 2: I know you’re awake.

You roll your eyes. Persistent as ever. Entitled as ever. You should block him, you would block him, but you’ve made that mistake before. You’re a quick learner and it only took you blocking him the first time for him to get two new phones so he could blow you up from both. So you decided to just save both numbers under “DONT FUCKING ANSWER 1” and “DONT FUCKING ANSWER 2”. You’re fairly certain that one of these days you’ll have to add a “DONT FUCKING ANSWER 3, 4 and 5” to your contacts.

You huff. Once again , you swipe the text from your screen, shooting W a quick goodnight text before you toss your phone onto your bedside table after setting it to do not disturb. You turn over in bed, pulling the blankets up to your chin.

The warmth of the blanket is calming, soothing against the contrasting cold of your room. The quiet howl of the wind blowing outside serves almost as a lullaby, your eyes getting heavier as you let the darkness finally consume you.

Click

The rush of the wind is louder now, and you’re positive the room temperature has dipped at least four degrees. You hear the same click that woke you again within a few seconds, the sound of the wind dying and then you feel his presence before his feet even touch the ground. You know exactly who it is.

You sit up, blinking the sleep from your eyes just in time to see Suguru Geto climbing down from your window. He lands gracefully on his feet, his long dark hair bouncing with the force of the landing. 

Always one to make an entrance. 

Tonight, he’s foregone his religious robes and dons a black long sleeve and those damn sexy harem pants he used to wear. You hate the way your body responds to seeing him, your heart racing when he flashes you that grin that used to make you melt beneath him - still , makes you want to melt beneath him.

Your ex-boyfriend, Suguru.

You stare at him, not saying a word. “Ignoring me now?” He asks simply, lifting his hand to toss his bangs out of the way.

“What gave it away?” You reply, not bothering to hide the sarcasm. “Me not responding to any of your messages? Me not answering your calls or me blocking you on every form of social media available? I’m always ignoring you, Suguru.” 

Suguru grins, you know he’s grinning because you can see his white teeth shine in the dark with his lazy smile. You haven’t spoken in months now - well you haven’t. Suguru, as always, never shuts up. He insists on calling you, texting you, letting his presence be known when you’re out and about by sending his curses your way. They never do anything to harm you. He almost lets them loose like friendly dogs off of a leash, their grotesque forms finding their way to you and nuzzling against your cheek, rubbing against your leg. You’d exorcize them, but you know what they mean to him so you leave them be.

You’d ended things with Suguru a while ago; when his execution was set after he’d slaughtered an entire village and when he’d tried to get you to join him in his endeavors of “cleansing the world”. He’d tried to convince you that this was for the greater good, to make the world a better place. But you weren’t one of his cult followers and you definitely weren’t a murderer. Despite this, Suguru had… a hard time letting go.

You sigh, rubbing your temple where you feel the telltale signs of a migraine coming on. “You shouldn’t be here, Suguru. You’re a wanted man. I should report you to the higher ups.”

Suguru’s hands come up with a shrug, his tongue poking out between his lips teasingly. “Yeah. But you won’t.”

And he’s right. You won’t say anything because you can’t bear the thought of him dying. 

Suguru leans casually against the windowsill, fixing you with a wistful smile. It only makes your heart beat faster, the way Suguru never bothers to conceal what he’s feeling. Ever.

“Why have you been ignoring me? I miss you.”

But Suguru is different from the Suguru you used to know. It doesn’t mean you don’t still care for him, but it means you have to be a bit more careful with your feelings for him now.

You hum as though you’re really giving this question some thought when the answer is so fucking obvious. “Oh, I don’t know, Suguru. Maybe because associating with you means a target on my back and if I’m being honest, I’m not really in the mood for Satoru to blow a Hollow Purple through my skull.”

Suguru mulls this over, his face only portraying boredom at the mention of his former best friend. “So what have you been up to lately?” 

He always changes the subject so easily when you make a good point, not caring that you’ve clearly told him you want nothing to do with him. You don’t answer, hoping he’ll get uncomfortable enough in the heavy silence to just…leave. He doesn’t. Which is just like Suguru. It’s aggravating, but endearing at the same time. You miss his stubbornness sometimes and this reminds you of your time together.

“Been having fun with your friend?” he asks suddenly, looking over his nails. 

You stiffen, but try not to give anything away. “What are you talking about?”

Suguru laughs loudly, making you stiffen even further if possible. He knows if anyone hears him here, finds him here, you’re both so fucked. Dead. Immediately dead. But he doesn’t care. He’d like to see someone try and come kill him and he’d especially love to rip the head off of whoever tries to come kill you. More than anything though, he wants to rip the head off of the guy he’s been watching you with for the last couple of months.

“Come on. We can be friends!” He lies. “Tell me about him. What’s he liiiike?” he asks in a sing-song voice, eyes closing as he smiles widely. You debate on telling him. Will he leave faster if you just tell him you’re seeing someone else? You go against your better judgment and tell him anyway.

You keep it short and sweet, not wanting to give too much detail about W. But of course, Suguru pries for more.

“Oh? How nice for you. A fellow sorcerer, then? What grade?”

Of course he wants to know. Because Suguru wants to be the top. The top sorcerer, the top curse user, the top man in your life whether you’re with him or not. 

“Not necessarily. He’s a window.” You tell him, and you’re not sure why the way Suguru’s brows shoot up and his eyes widen make you feel so fucking embarrassed.

Suguru blinks, then looks at you with pity, his bottom lip protruding in a pout. 

“A window ? You may as well be dating one of these plebeian monkeys roaming the streets!” He throws his head back dramatically, brows furrowed as he sighs loudly. You flinch, hoping he’ll just leave after telling you how much you’ve lowered the bar for yourself.

He says your name as if he’s trying to plead with you. “You may have made the biggest mistake of your life by leaving me,” he lays his hand against his chest, flipping his bangs out of his face again. “But I can't allow you to tie yourself to the dead weight of a window.”

You scoff. “You’re not allowing me to do anything, Suguru. I like him and I don’t care that he’s a window. He knows what he’s doing. He’s not dead weight.”

“And if a curse attacks him? What will he do? He’ll be helpless to defend himself. Unless you plan on being next to him every second of his life?”

He makes a good point, but something about the way Suguru asks this makes your skin crawl. 

“He’s been okay his whole life. He won’t be attacked or killed by a curse.” You bite back, trying to convince him…and maybe yourself a little bit.

“Hmm?” Suguru pouts again as he takes a step closer to your bed. “Are you sure ?”

You sit up straight, nodding your head, trying not to betray to him how nervous he’s making you by asking you this. You know now your association with W puts him at risk.

“You promise he’ll be okay?”

You hesitate for a brief second, but you nod again. 

“And what if I can promise he won’t be?” His lips spread in a grin as he takes yet another step closer to you. You take a deep breath, steadying your racing adrenaline.

“I sincerely hope you’re not threatening my boyfriend, Suguru.”

He stops in his tracks, his head cocking to the side in curiousity. “Boyfriend? You never mentioned you were that serious about him.”

You’re not, but Suguru doesn’t need to know that. W is an innocent bystander in this and Suguru’s jealousy shouldn’t lead to W’s untimely demise. You hope this little fib prompts Suguru to drop it, maybe move on with his life even though you’re secure enough in yourself to admit that would hurt.

In true Suguru fashion, he only takes this as competition…and you kind of like that. He closes the gap between himself and you, leaning forward until your noses are touching. You don’t move away, you never have. His antics may scare others, but he’s never scared you. It’s what he loves about you. You’re up to the challenge. You meet him blow for blow. It’s why he can’t let you go. It’s why he can’t fucking bear the thought of another man wrapping his arms around you, of you finding someone else.

“Do you love him?” His voice is quiet, serious. You don’t, you’re not even sure how much you like W, but Suguru is hovering over you with his domineering presence you love so much and he smells so good. You can feel his jealousy radiating off of him and honestly, it’s fucking sexy. It only makes you want to piss him off more, so you lie again.

“I think I do, actually,” you breathe out. And even in the dark, you can see the way Suguru’s nose crinkles in disgust, disappointment even.

“A common window. You’re in love with a window ,” he stresses the last word as his hand comes up to rest on the back of your neck. Your breath hitches in your throat, your body doing what it always does when Suguru’s involved – reacting. It’s the reason you don’t talk to or see him. You’re weak for him. You always have been.

“And what if I am?” You challenge him, raising your chin so that your lips are barely a breath apart. The slightest movement and your lips would be touching. Suguru’s grip tightens on the back of your neck and you resist the feeling of wanting to roll your eyes back in pleasure.

“If you are,” he says, pulling back slightly to ghost his lips over your face, down your neck and to your pulsepoint. “Maybe I’ll let you live a happy little life with him. You can go on being a Grade 1 sorcerer – exorcizing curses, protecting your feeble window lover, maybe even have weak little children with hardly any cursed energy that you’ll have to retire to protect.”

He’s really killing the mood here.

Until he bites down on your pulsepoint and you gasp into the cold air of your dorm room. The pain is immediately soothed by Suguru slowly dragging his tongue over the bruise and you can’t help the moan that rushes past your lips.

“ Or maybe I’ll just kill him .”

The threat goes straight to your core. You cross your legs underneath your blanket, the steady pulse in your center already starting to drive you insane.

Suguru is back to lapping at the wound on your neck as though he didn’t just say he would kill your lover…boyfriend… friend…what the fuck ever W is to you. 

“I’d never let you kill him,” you pant into his hair. You don’t touch him, not yet at least. Suguru has always liked it that way; him making you so desperate with his own touch until you can’t do anything but grip onto him.

“You couldn’t stop me if you tried. You’re strong,” he reaches for the blanket and peels it back, groaning when he feels you shiver as you’re exposed to the cool night air. “You’re not strong enough to stop me though. You’re not stupid enough to try either.”

He runs his nose back up your neck, along your jawline until he’s face to face with you again. His free hand comes up to glide through the valley of your breasts and he sighs longingly, like he’s been dreaming of touching you here for a long time. He has. 

Suguru has no qualms in admitting that he thinks of you always, watches you constantly. That he fucks his own hand to the thought of you whenever he has a free moment to himself. You never respond to him or acknowledge his presence and it makes him crazy. But he likes to think he knows you better than you know yourself. He knows you think of him too. You like that he chases you. Otherwise you’d have changed your number long ago. You’re still his. It doesn’t matter who you’re with. 

But Suguru also has no qualms in admitting the thought of someone touching what’s his, especially a lowly window, makes him irate. The hand on the back of your neck slides up to your hair where he grips it and tugs a little harder than he intended. Doesn’t matter. He gets the response he wanted when your lips part with a soft moan. He stares down at you, eyes half-lidded, pretty lips parted, chest rising and falling with quick breaths and he can’t wait to ruin you for your little window boyfriend. 

“Break up with him,” he commands and he snarls quietly when he sees that defiant smirk he loves spread across your face. 

“No, I don’t think I will.”

“I’ll kill him and then I’ll kill you.”

“No, you won’t.”

You stare him down, not backing down from his challenge and Suguru groans, his hips coming forward to press against the mattress in search of friction. This little argument is making him so hard he’s starting to lose focus, but he wants you to agree to leave your stupid boyfriend before he goes any further. Not because he’ll feel bad for making a move while you’re in a relationship, but because he has bigger plans for the long-term and he needs you freed up for it.

He yanks your head back by your hair, grinning down at you while you return the same vicious smile. Fuck, he loves you. It’s fine if you won’t agree to leave the window. It’ll only make this more fun for him.

He bends down, his lips hovering over yours once again before he says, “I want you.”

You contemplate keeping up the ruse that you and W are dating, that you love him when in reality you’re so fucking bored out of your mind with him, with life, with everything. You won’t agree to break up with W, because you’re not really even dating him. Besides, this will make it more fun for you.

You hold Suguru’s gaze before telling him, “Just for tonight.” It’s a lie. You know if he shows up again you’ll give in, but it’s all he needs to hear before his lips are crashing into yours, taking everything you have to offer.

Your hands move into his hair and Suguru shivers under your touch, moaning when you open your mouth for his tongue to slide past your lips. Your tongues dance together, tasting each other the way you used to until you have to pull apart, gasping for air as you stare each other down.

You release Suguru’s hair and push him back to standing. Your fingers slide down his torso to the waistband of his pants. He watches you closely, tongue darting out absentmindedly to drag across his bottom lip. You slide your hand into the front of his pants, palming his cock through his briefs. His hips come forward to press into your hand, a quiet sigh escaping him as his hands come down to cup your face.

He bends down to give you a quick kiss.

“Let me fuck your mouth,” he says, still rutting into your palm.

You nod, sliding your other hand into his waistband and tugging his pants and briefs down at the same time. Suguru steps back briefly, grunting with displeasure at the loss of contact, to kick off his shoes and pull his pants all the way down. As he does this, you shift to lay on your stomach on the bed, watching the way his cock springs forth from his pants and smacks loud against his own stomach.

When Suguru comes back to the edge of your bed, he goes back to cupping your face with his hands. You take the time to admire his pretty dick illuminated in the moonlight. The tip is red, weeping pre-cum already. You bring your hand forward, gripping the shaft and squeezing. Suguru hisses, hips bucking forward into your hand. He softly places his own hand on the back of your head. You roll your tongue out and give his tip a gentle squeeze, letting the pre-cum drip slowly on to your tongue. You missed the taste of him. You can’t lie. 

You let your eyes roam up Suguru’s body until you make eye contact with those deep brown eyes. Suguru’s hand presses down on your head, coaxing you forward.

“You’re so fucking sexy like this,” Suguru groans above you. “Open your mouth, baby.”

You obey with no hesitation, letting your lips fall open. He slowly rolls his hips forward, his cock entering the warm cavern of your mouth.

“ Fuck, ” Suguru moans. You lift your hands, caressing his thighs and opening your throat as Suguru slides easily into your mouth until it touches your throat. You watch as he tilts his head back, sighing softly.

You love this feeling. You can kick the head off of a curse, snap someone’s neck with no problem. But it’s when you’re making Suguru Geto – Special Grade curse user, mass murderer, wanted fugitive – come undone before you that you feel the most powerful.

You hum when you feel Suguru’s cock touch the back of your throat, your pride swelling when you feel his legs shake at the sensation. He pushes your head down more with both hands now, his body coming forward to loom over you. He doesn’t move, just holds you there breathing harshly over your form as you hold his dick in the back of your throat.

“God, fucking shit ,” he groans through gritted teeth as he pushes you so far down your nose is buried in the soft hair that lies above the base of his cock. You feel tears forming in the corners of your eyes, but you make no move to wipe them away. Suguru likes that. He pulls out sharply with a loud gasp, taking one deep breath before he grabs the base of his length and plunges himself back into your mouth in one swift motion.

“You know how I feel about this mouth, baby,” he grunts, pulling out just to slam himself into your throat over and over and over. You moan around his dick, pulling a gasping breath from Suguru as he slams into your mouth relentlessly. 

“Look at me,” he moans out. “I wanna watch you while I fuck your throat until you cry.”

You peer up at him through your lashes and Suguru watches as the moonlight illuminates the tears pooling at the corners of your eyes. This is his favorite look on you. You with your lips wrapped around his dick while he literally fucks your mouth until you’re crying. He has to bite the inside of his cheek so he doesn’t come down your throat when the tears finally fall, leaving a sparkling trail down your cheeks.

He wants to keep fucking your face like this, but if he’s being honest, he knows he won’t last long. He’s been holding out for this moment where he gets to have you again. He hasn’t been with anyone since you. He’s been waiting only for you . The thought of finally having you again makes his balls tighten and he pulls out of your mouth with a loud POP, motioning for you to get up.

“Take it off,” he demands, pointing to your clothes.

You waste no time, stripping yourself of your shirt, shorts and panties. Suguru crawls on to the bed, pushing you down onto your back as he climbs over you. He drinks in the sight of you beneath him, naked and as beautiful as he remembers before he dives down to capture your lips in a sloppy kiss, moaning loudly when he tastes the mixture of you and himself on your tongue.

His hand slides down between your bodies, past your chest, over one of your hardened nipples, down your stomach and further until Suguru’s fingers find the warm heat between your legs. He sighs into your mouth as his fingers spread your folds to find you soaking wet.

“Do you let window touch you like this?” He asks, sliding a finger over your clit. You whimper beneath him, watching as he smirks above you. He would guess not, but he likes making you squirm a little anyway.

He rubs lazy circles on the sensitive nub, bringing his face down to kiss on the now darkening bruise forming on your pulsepoint from his earlier bite.

“Has he made you come yet?” He murmurs into your neck, kissing and sucking as he makes his way back up to your mouth. He slots his lips against yours, swallowing your mewls when he flicks his fingers roughly over your clit before you can answer.

Suguru feels his cock throb listening to the sounds you make. It’s been so long since he’s heard them. He wants to hear more.

“Does he get to taste you?” Suguru asks, sliding his fingers up and down your folds before bringing his fingers up to his mouth. He turns his fingers in front of him and observes the way the moonlight makes your slick glisten against his skin. He parts his lips, slowly slipping his fingers into his mouth and sucking, eyes rolling back at the heady taste of you. You watch him with lust filled eyes, moaning at the action.

You haven’t answered a single question. Suguru won’t let you. The moment the question leaves his lips, he’s touching you, overstimulating you. Your body feels like it’s on fire beneath him.

“I fucking hope not, baby,” he says as he shifts his body to slide his hips between your thighs. You feel his length press against you and you whine, rolling your hips up to meet Suguru’s. He chuckles. Suguru bends down to kiss you again, whispering against your lips. “If he’s tasted you, I really will just kill him .”

You don’t have time to react as Suguru rears his hips back before thrusting straight into you. You cry out sharply, back arching until your sensitive nipples are pressed into Suguru’s chest. He dips down, taking one of the soft peaks into his mouth, rolling it expertly with his tongue. Your breathing is coming erratically now, but you know Suguru. He isn’t going to let up.

He gives you about three seconds to adjust to the way he absolutely fills your pussy before he’s moving, bottoming out on his second thrust. You wrap your legs around his waist, your hands flying up into his hair.

Suguru moves off of one nipple to move to the neglected one and takes it into his mouth. Your grip on his tresses tighten and he groans. The vibrations make your walls clamp down around him and he sucks harder on the sensitive bud until he decides he wants to kiss you. He lets go with another loud POP and kisses his way up the swell of your breasts, up your neck to your mouth where he swallows your cries as he fucks into you.

Suguru almost forgot how tight you were, how your pussy squeezes his cock for dear life every time he’s inside of you. He feels a tingle run up his spine at the familiar sensation and slows down just a bit so he doesn’t come yet.

He rolls his hips lazily into yours, nothing but the lewd squelching sounds of your bodies meeting and both yours and Suguru’s soft whimpers filling the air.

“I could live in your pussy forever,” he whispers, sliding his hand up to your throat and resting it there. He doesn’t squeeze, he never does but he knows you like the thrill of the idle threat.

You say nothing, eyes squeezed shut as you whine softly beneath him. 

“Let me have you forever, baby,” he begs.

You shake your head, keeping your eyes closed. It’s so easy to lose yourself in him, to give him all of you. He’ll consume you and in this moment, you’d let him.

“I can’t, Suguru.”

He cups your cheek in his hand as he continues his slow thrusts.

“I’ll take care of you. I swear.”

You know he’s close. He gets so needy when he is.

“I promise, baby,” he kisses your forehead, trailing kisses down the side of your face, your neck, back up to your lips. “You’ll never want for anything. I just need you with me. I miss you. I love you. Please .”

You can’t. You won’t. You’ve resisted him this whole time. You’ve fought the urge all this time. No contact, no communication.

And yet, Suguru still has your legs spread wide open as he buries himself to the hilt with each thrust.

The tears well up again. Because you know you’re done for. You were always done for when it came to him. 

At the sight of fresh tears rolling down your cheeks, Suguru bends down, kissing them away. He has his answer, but he’ll wait for you to say it. Right now, he just needs this moment with you.

His hips pick up speed, his hand coming down to grip your hip so tightly you’re sure you’ll have a bruise there tomorrow. He thrusts into you deeply, grunting in pleasure at the feel of you getting tighter around him. 

Suguru slides his hand around to your lower back, lifting your hips for a better angle as he slams into you. You cry out at the slight change in position, feeling him hitting deeper and deeper with each stroke.

“Suguru, please”, you whine, tugging his hair so his forehead comes down to meet yours. He groans at your breaths mingling as he pumps into you.

“Tell me what you want, baby. It’s yours. I’m yours. I’ll give you anything. Anything. Fucking anything –” He’s babbling now and you know he’s about to cum.

You let one hand slip from Suguru’s hair to slide down between your bodies. Your fingers find your clit and you rub in time with his thrusts. Suguru moans, eyes watching you play with yourself while he fucks into you.

“So fucking sexy. I never wanna leave this pussy. I swear. Fuck, baby. I love you. Come with me. Leave with me.”

The proposition startles you for all of two seconds before your orgasm shoots through you, a broken cry of his name ripping from your throat. 

Suguru slams his lips against yours, smothering your cries as he pumps into you harder, faster. He pants loudly before he buries his face in your neck when he feels his cock pulse hard inside you, a guttural groan emerging from deep within his chest as hot spurts of cum fill you up.

You’re both trying to catch your breath, holding each other’s sweaty forms tightly. You don’t know how long you hold each other for. You only know that you must have drifted off to sleep shortly after because when you wake up, the room is about four degrees colder again and Suguru is halfway out the window.

You shoot up in your bed calling out to him. He turns to face you, the same lazy grin from earlier back on his face.

“Yes?” He says, tilting his head to the side curiously.

Even in the throes of passion, you know Suguru only speaks his truth. He never hides his feelings. Not now. Not ever. He had wanted you to go with him before, but you weren’t a murderer and you had lived a life before Suguru Geto that you were sure you could go back to.

Now you’ve lived life without Suguru Geto and you weren’t sure you wanted to spend the rest of your life living it without him.

You watch him for a moment as he sits perched on your windowsill, his hair blowing in the wind. He looks exactly like the type of monster they warn you about when you’re studying to be a sorcerer. But he’s your monster and you know him well enough to know that you really would never want for anything. You sit for awhile, wondering if what the fuck you’re about to do is smart. It fucking isn’t. You know it isn’t. You’re essentially signing your own death warrant, but…you can’t let him go. Not like this. Not ever.

So you wordlessly slide out from under the blankets, slip your clothes and shoes on and follow Suguru out the window.

[bluehourbucky]

Ooo I'm a different anon but could u do a part 2 for the vampire oje. Doesn't have to be smutty. Just love their interactions

Bite me

pairing: vampire!bucky x innocent!reader

warnings: blood / bj / sucking blood / face fucking

a/n: sorry it took so long hope you like it

18+ ONLY

minors do not interact

strawberry juice (part 1)

________________________________________

Bucky was surprised how quickly you've accepted that you'll be his for the time being, he didn't even have to hypnotise you.

"My new home? Why? "

"Oh my darling you're just so precious, you see I need you to survive and you want to help me right?"

you looked confused so Bucky continued.

"So as you can tell already I'm a vampire doll, and I need blood to survive and you just happen to have the tastiest blood that keeps me fed for a long time. We can do this the easy way or the hard way the choice is yours."

You sat there on the bed trying to put your brain to work and figure out what to do but your brain just wouldn't cooperate. It's like there was fog clouding it.

"Are you going to hurt me?"

Bucky had smiled flashing his fangs at you which made you avert your gaze.

"Depends."

"On what?"

"If you're a good girl or not."

And so far you've been so good and Bucky was thriving, he'd never been so well fed he didn't even have to slumber to get energy.

Steve had been extremely kind and helpful to you, he didn't treat you like a prisoner.

As of recently you've started going on walks with both Bucky and Steve, never alone though.

"But I won't run away." you tried to argue and you really hadn't planned on going anywhere, you were well fed Steve had cooked well balanced meals every day, you had a room and everything at your disposal.

You even wanted to help around the house but Steve wouldn't let you it was his job and his job only.

It wasn't that bad at all.

Paid food, housing and you didn't even have to work except when Bucky was taking the blood from you but that wasn't even that bad since Steve was taking little amounts of blood putting it in blood bags for Bucky, like donating blood but to a vampire.

All in all not bad.

However your sleep schedule was messed up.

Most of the times you didn't know if it was day or night because of the blinds and dark curtains covering all of the windows most of the time.

It has been around 2 months since you've started living with them and you still didn't understand what made your blood special, Bucky wouldn't tell you.

"Good morning doll, when will you start wearing pants around the house, you're tempting anyways."

Since the first night Bucky hadn't touched you like he did the first night. Bucky was sure if he did something like that again he wouldn't be able to stop himself from taking you.

You turned quickly almost dropping your midnight snack on the floor.

"I was just-"

"No need to explain yourself doll, just heard you thought I should keep you company, maybe even get a breakfast while I'm at it."

For some reason, your legs shiver and the need to close your thighs overwhelmed you so you just do that. Since you'd "moved in" he'd kept a distance and you'd be lying if you said it didn't hurt you. You missed talking to him, he didn't even tell you about the books he'd read.

"You never keep me company you're just hungry."

Bucky was taken aback by your words. You're his sweet girl you've never talked like that to him. But maybe you're right he hasn't been keeping you company he avoids you like the plague, it's been weeks since he drank from you physically.

If he was being honest he liked you way more than he'd like to admit. Yes your blood was good but he started feeling guilty.

"Do you want my company, pretty girl?" He'd come close to you, and you sucked in a breath, Bucky had taken the bowl from your hands.

He caressed you cheek softly, his finger barely touching you, but making your body temperature rise nonetheless.

"Why don't you look at me huh?" Bucky lifts your chin and your eyes meet his, oh and they are so pretty and your pretty pink lips that would look even better around his cock.

"Please." you don't even know what you're begging for, his attention, his touch?

"Please, what darling? Use your words pretty girl."

"Pay attention to me. You've been ignoring me I don't like being ignored. I wore so many pretty clothes and you won't notice me."

His pretty girl is an attention whore.

"Oh don't you worry, I noticed you, I heard your little whimpers when you tried to take care of the ache between your legs and you just couldn't. The little shorts and dresses you've been wearing were the only thing I paid attention to."

As if the weight has been lifted off your shoulders you smiled exhaling, blood was what Bucky lived off, but you lived for attention.

"Really? Why didn't you talk to me then! You didn't even tell me if you liked the book you were reading."

Bucky chuckled, damn you were adorable.

"Well I'll tell you if you do something for me."

You nodded eagerly.

"You don't even know what I want you to do."

"But I want to know."

"Have you ever heard of "curiosity killed the cat?""

"Pff that's not real. Tell me."

He'd taken your hand and let you to his bedroom , he didn't need Steve coming in and ruining the fun.

"Where's your bed? Do you not have a bed?"

Bucky laughs, it's been a while since he laughed so much.

"I don't need a bed."

His bedroom was more like a formal lounge room the long couch a fireplace and a lounge chair and of course a coffin standing against the wall. Bucky let's you scan the room before talking again.

"Okay that's enough looking come here." you obey instantly.

Bucky stands between the fire place and the couch in the middle of the room and picks up a pillow behind him, throwing it down on the carpet in front of him. Your eyes follow him.

"Go on." he points to the pillow and you just stand not sure what you should do. Seeing you need guidance Bucky grabs the back of your head and lowers you to your knees. He didn't use any force.

"Wil you tell me now?" your doe eyes look up at him innocently.

"Nope, we haven't even started, doll."

"But-"

You are cut off by Bucky pushing your face into his clothed buldge. He's been wanting you like this for a while and who says dreams don't come true.

"See what you do to me? Need you to take care of this before I tell you about the books I've read."

"But I don't know how." you want to do whatever he needs you to but you've never done anything like that before.

"Don't worry precious I'll help you, why don't you help me take these off first." Bucky takes your hands and leads you to the waistband of his sweatpants. You pull it down and Bucky instantly feels better, his hard on is still trapped in his underwear but much better with one layer taken off.

"Good girl." you sit not knowing what to do next so you take the waistband of his underwear releasing his painfully hard cock.

You forget to breathe, and don't know where to look and right as you were about to turn your head Bucky holds it in place.

"You need to see what you've done pretty." With one hand in your hair and the other on his length gathering the precum.

"Open up" and you do, he slips two fingers into your mouth loving the way you look tasting him.

"Give me your hands put them here." Bucky places your hands at the base of his cock, your hands are warm and soft and he thinks he's about to cum with just one touch.

"That's it." he praises you when you start moving your hands, your movements are a bit sloppy but enjoyable.

He groans when you squeeze him a bit harder.

"Sorry!" you think you've hurt him so you stop.

"Oh don't you dare stop now." Bucky says looking down at you, and what a sight to see. Your little hands hugging his thickness, he needs your mouth immediately.

"Open up for me." Bucky says, taking his cock and slapping it on your mouth.

"More." he says sternly and you open as wide as you can.

"There you go." Bucky smiles when you close around him, he's only half way in but it's already too big for you. He starts using your mouth, his thrusts are gentle not pushing you further into him. Your hands are on his thighs holding on but not for long.

"What you can't fit in you hold in your hands understand?" you nodd and immediately take the rest of his length, you use one hand to pump him and the other gets a hold of his balls. Bucky moans the moment he feels your hands on his balls playing with them.

"Doing so good pretty girl" he groans and feels his self control slipping, he needs you to take all of him. Bucky couldn't take his eyes off of you tears rolling down your red face. You suddenly pull away panting.

"Can't breathe." Bucky chuckles and brings you to his cock again.

"Breathe through your nose honey." Once you've gotten used to it Buckys thrusts became more frantic and unforgiving. He didn't stop when hit the back of your throat and you gagged saliva falling down your neck right between your breasts.

"Fuck me." Bucky breathes out, and with every thurst he groans and moans absolutely using your throat for his pleasure. Eyes rolling to the back of his head when your throat contracts squeezing him just right.

"So good, right there." you're holding tightly onto his thighs your nails digging into them which just sends Bucky into euphoria.

"Don't you dare spit out." Bucky says through gripped teeth just seconds before he finishes into your mouth sending cum down your throat. He rides out his orgasm his cock finally softening as he shoots the last drop of his cum.

Bucky pulls out and shuts your mouth closed like you're a dog.

"Swallow." not knowing what else to do you swallow the salty substance.

"Such a good girl for me." he says when you open your mouth to show him that you've swallowed every last drop. Some of it managed to escape and dripped down on your shirt but that's okay.

"Can you tell me now?" you manage to say despite it hurting of your throat.

"Of course darling. Just clean me up first and I'll tell you everything."

___________________________________________

[THE END]

please I know this was bad smut but I'm trying! I'm not used to writing it and I hope I did a decent job!

I would appreciate tips or constructive criticism what I could do better <3

likes comments and reblogs are appreciated <3

[punsbulletsandpointythings]

So I've been watching My Hero Academia and like

GOD ALL THE TODOROKI FAMILY BAGGAGE HURTS SO GOOD.

Like damn. What a complicated situation. I love that all the kids are handling things differently. I've already figured out the (obvious) Touya twist and BOY do I hope we get a reverse Darth Vader moment with that.

But also like. Fuck Endeavor with a rusty spork. He's a terrible terrible person. But gosh what a good character. That contrast between being a Great Hero and a Terrible, Abusive Father is a deeply compelling story, is definitely a part of how the show interrogates the idea of heros and the complexities around a society and culture of heros and villains.

We already see that complexity with All Might, and how by becoming a Symbol of Peace he's made it so he can't do anything but destroy his own body and still try to put on the smiling face for the public, and when he forcibly can't do that that anymore, for a few moments, the public turns on him, until he shows he's /still/given all of himself for the "Greater Good". Which is heartbreaking, and fascinating, I hope between him and Deku we get to examine that dynamic a bit more.

But that's like.....the needs of an individual being put aside for the expectations of society and how by being There for Everyone All The Time, All Might unintentionally became part of a system that can't really survive without him, so he can never leave, until he's forced to, and the plot becomes how society deals with that sudden lose of security.

With Endeavor, it's like. How do you come to terms with the duality of this person. He's saved so many lives, and in doing so, in his status rising because of his heroics, he turns around and commits atrocities. But it's not so much society forcing him into a corner like I think All Might is. Yeah societal expectations of heros probably played some part, but I think the larger part is the narrative pointing out how Endeavor's own drive, while I think coming from an initially good place, is corrupted by his own way of viewing the world.

We know he cares for people, he clearly can manage that on wider, impersonal scale. But he can't, or doesn't, apply that to his own family, because his own drive and desire to Be Better Than All Might outweighs everything else when he's not out in hero mode, thus: a Good Hero and at the same time, an Abusive Asshole Father.

And I like that, at least so far, the characters and the narrative won't let him forget that! Even as he tries to "fix things", I like how, as far as his family is concerned, he can't! He can try, but Natsuo and Shota, and even Fuyami, have no reason to trust him, and even less to forgive him, and I like that they say that! Like, good! I'm glad he's trying to be better, but fuck him!

AND I like that we see Shota seeing that juxtaposition of Good Hero v Terrible Father. I love that scene where he straight up says, "Don't pretend to be a good parent in front of my friends. I'm here for Endeavor, not Enji ((that's his name right?)) Todoroki, and I'm only here because it will benefit me and my training."

I don't entirely know where I'm going with this but it's all just! Such a good story! And there are so many other bits I could ramble on about (Fucking!!!! Bakugo???? Listen, as someone who was bullied for uhhhhh most of my pre-uni school life, if this were real I'd have OPINION. But it's NOT it's FICTION and GOD Bakugo and Izuku and their fucked up co-dependant situationship delights me, what delicious storytelling!!!) but I'm currently watching the Todoroki Backstories episodes of season 5 and ANNOYED (Read: delighted, again this narrative is WORKING SO WELL) that I'm so invested in Endeavor and his painfully slow realization of just how badly he fucked up!

Anyway, I'm gonna need so Todoroki Family Time Travel Fix-It aus please, because I want Rei and All Her Children to not get Backstory Trauma, so if anyone has recs (or like. MHA recs in general) HMU!

[edwinas]

A character study of Lemon

A companion piece to these posts I & II, inspired by @books-are-my-life-stuff gifs

“I was intentionally getting in [Mash’s] way so he wouldn’t reach the goal. Professor Lucci asked me to. He told me he would pass me if I got in his way. My family is poor, and I desperately wanted to be accepted for their sake.” — Lemon, episode 2 “I reached out thinking even scum can be useful, but you bit the hand that fed you. Is your stupidity inherited from your parents? No wonder you have a miserable life.” — Lucci, episode 2

Magic determines one's social status so poor families with average to low magical abilities were seen as sub-human and treated as such (see the views of Wirth Madl, Abel, Carpaccio, Levi etc). "The strong have the right to take from the weak" is a philosophy that many magic users believed in, especially the elite. So Lemon was used to being dismissed and given crumbs. Street-smart out of necessity, she was resigned to cheating and lying for her family because society would never give her a fair chance. The guilt ate at her but survival came first.

Something shifted when she met Mash. He came back for her at the risk of not passing the exam. He put his future in jeopardy for her. For the first time ever, Lemon mattered.

For me that's also why Lemon falls for him. Here is a boy who came back for her. No one had done that. As the eldest daughter, Lemon had to be the responsible and dependable one. She took care of others. Mash was the first one who came back.

Mash's motivation to enter Easton Academy and become a divine visionary struck a chord with Lemon because she also entered Easton Academy for her family. She was willing to cheat to get ahead while Mash, who's very existence challenged the status quo, played by the rules and won. He inspired Lemon to live life on her terms, to allow herself to dream and not settle anymore.

Lemon is also deeply grateful to Walhberg who accepted her into Easton Academy despite her cheating. The strongest wizard saw something in her and gave her the chance she desperately needed. Knowing the immense luck she had, Lemon threw herself into her studies, took extra credit, was part of many clubs. While in canon Lemon has "Mash tunnel vision", for me she is is very much aware of who she is, where she is and the opportunities offered by Easton Academy.

As said in my previous post, Lemon tries her best to give back to Easton Academy by tutoring juniors, volunteering, organising school events etc. Her disposition brings people together, like in the Innocent Zero fight.

A downside to having a jam packed schedule is that Lemon does not take time to rest. She is always pushing herself to make the most of every minute, at the expense of her health. She does not listen to her body and eventually suffers burn outs.

The paraphrased quote from Aera's gifset "Dear young maiden, Fall in love for life is short and time wait for no one" encapsulates who Lemon is to me.

We see how obsessed Lemon is with Mash and that is 100000% for comedic effect. But I also see it as a window into who Lemon is. She is someone who cares so deeply and is fully committed, be it Mash or the welfare of magical creatures. There is no in-between and that is how Lemon approaches life.

In this post I wrote "lemon knew binding magic (chapter 2 & 126) and training animals with kindness (chapter 126) so she settles on care for magical creatures." I still stand by Lemon choosing this field but she does so because she loves it. As explained above, I don't see Lemon settling anymore, especially for something as important as her career. She still does her research, goes to university and career fairs, shadows people who's jobs interest her, reviews career progression potential and income etc. She chooses studies of magical creatures.

Lemon has always been brave and Easton Academy, including her friends, have inspired her to be bolder. To keep going despite all the rejection. No attempt is futile. The world was saved thanks to ordinary people coming together. Lemon saved Mash (and the world) by physically shielding him, no magic involved. She follows her heart and wants to live a life without regret. So she applies to the most prestigious universities and most competitive programs. She puts in the work.

For me Lemon is not magically inclined. She stays up late, reviews her flash cards at lunch, tapes her notes to the bathroom mirror to revise while brushing her teeth. She works hard. She is not and will never be a girlbossTM to me. There will be no radical transformation into a snarky "not like other girls" overpowered character. Lemon is very aware of her limitations. She will never be as powerful as Dot or Lance or even Finn. She will never be as strong as Mash. Surrounded by such incredible people, she grapples with insecurities, doubt and even jealousy but life goes on. She tries to do the best with what she has got. She remains the sweet girl who doesn't let Mash finish his choux creams because their senior is at the hospital.

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Best and worst of both worlds (part 30)

Tw: none for now, short chapter tho this is just like a decision making chaoter

SO VOTE BELOW AND LIKE CHOOSE I WILL ONLY COUNT THE FIRST 21 VOTES

Part 31

You groan, waking up at the incessant buzzing from your phone. You picked up the call without pondering who would be calling you in the middle of the night.

You grumbled a "hello".

"(Name), my dear."

Yves's baritone voice laced with worry and disappointment was enough to shock you awake. Your eyes are now wide open.

"My flight was canceled."

You let out the most visceral 'huh?!' in your life. You proceeded to ask why.

"Due to terrible weather, (name). The airport is experiencing a bout of freezing rain. All flights are canceled until the weather improves." You heard a sigh from him, frustration was evident.

"Then, we will have to wait until they de-ice all aircraft and runways. I will be arriving later than expected."

You were about to respond, but he continued.

"Much, later." Yves pinched the bridge of his nose. He's currently in a cafe within the airport, staring at figures and images undecipherable to the eyes of the common, but it was as easy reading a nursery rhyme to Yves. "I predict that we will be grounded for another three days. The humidity, the temperatures, the forecasts... they're all atrocious."

You felt your shoulders droop in despair.

"I might return by tomorrow, if I am lucky. Otherwise, I could take a train to-"

You cut him off, telling him that it's okay, you're handling yourself well back home. He should attend his conference and enjoy the rest of his time there.

You told him that you appreciate his willingness to drop everything for you, but he needs to settle his own business too. To enjoy and not stress about your problems. You told him that you don't want to be the reason why his life suddenly goes sideways.

"(name), I can take care of myself." Yves replied, sounding slightly offended.

To that, you responded that you have no doubt that he could. But that doesn't mean you can't take care of yourself. You may have struggled to find your footing in the last three- no, four days now, but you think you can manage. All thanks to Yves's help, and it's only three more days, you should be able to survive on your own.

You wondered if you said anything wrong because he wasn't responding to you.

Yves has his cheek propped up on a gloved hand while the other absentmindedly fidgeted with his pen. He knew better than to take your words as "I don't need you"; he is deeply touched by how much you cared about him, But Yves is a caregiver. He has to feel needed and depended on, and right now you're making him feel the exact opposite.

Yves doesn't like how irrational he is now. You didn't mean it that way, but his logic couldn't stop the dejection pooling in his chest.

He sets his pen down and spoke, his earphones picking up on his voice.

"I worry about you, (name)."

He watches you through his laptop monitor. You're lying on your side, smothered in blankets as you put your air conditioner to its lowest temperature.

"...and I miss you."

He added.

You told him that you missed him too. But he doesn't need to worry about you. If you lived a life without Yves before, surely you could survive without him for a while. Likewise, Yves will live on without you as he has lived in the past.

He felt a sharp stabbing pain throughout his entire being. That did not come off as assuring as you intended. Yet you don't realize it and keep smashing his heart into pieces by telling him you're even doing much better without his guidance now.

Yves knows your intent behind those words, you're merely trying to quell his anxieties about your ability to problem-solve, and that is enough for him to not go hysterical at the airport cafe. He wishes that you would be a little more mindful of what comes out of your mouth.

He decided to change the topic.

"Jones is not your chauffeur anymore."

You acknowledged that. Then proceeded to tell him you will be taking the bus again.

"I hired someone else to--"

You dropped the ball and told him you will not be attending your classes. They're mostly lectures and you can afford to miss a couple of tutorials and labs.

He went silent. You wished that you were as perspective as him, so that you could easily know how he was feeling towards your decision.

You called for his attention.

"I want to see you." He requested. "Could you switch your camera on for me, please?"

You pulled the phone away from your ear and propped it against the wall in front of you. The voice call was soon changed to a video call, the angle that you choose to present yourself is horrible, but Yves is simply happy to see your face this close and personal.

As always, he looks fantastic and fresh. Wearing fashionable clothes and a pair of shapely, black gloves. His hair is nothing like your messy, bed head one, it's immaculately curled and silky.

You saw him smiling at you adoringly. "You're so endearing."

You looked at your own video feed and wondered what he saw in you. You look hideous right now.

You thought he wanted to speak to you about something, but he wordlessly went back to doing his own paperwork and research. Leaving you confused as to why he wanted to see you.

Your eyelids are getting heavier. You asked him if there is anything else, if not, you're going to end the call and contact him later in the day. You want to sleep.

"Well." He looked straight into your eyes through the screen. You don't know how he does that and it still freaks you out. "I hope this isn't too much of me to ask of you."

You nodded for him to continue.

"Could you keep your camera on for me, please?" He asked earnestly.

You told him that you wouldn't be awake to interact with him.

"I would very much rather have your company, even if we aren't exchanging words." The corners of his red lips were slightly tugged downwards.

"It is... lonely without you here." He whispered.

You stared back at him. Yves's emerald eyes were trained onto yours, he held a pen in his hand. You noted that he seems to be subtly fiddling with it, perhaps nervous as to what you would do next?

You thought about it. It's not like the call is keeping you up. And since you're not going to the university in the morning, you wouldn't need to worry about your phone running out of battery. It's currently being charged anyways.

However, maybe having someone watch over your sleeping form isn't the most comfortable idea. You're not used to such... romantic activities. Even if you knew Yves won't be focusing on you for at least eight hours straight, it still leaves a bit of a strange, unlikable taste that you are being exposed to him during your most vulnerable and unconscious state.

What if you burped or farted or mumbled something embarrassing in your sleep? You're not comfortable showing that side of you to Yves yet, you only know him for a little over a month!

But then again, he was the man who cleaned up your puke, removed the snot you left in his perfect hair, who you coughed in his face and shot your phlegm onto his eyelashes and the man who witnessed you orgasm over a couple of his touches. Seeing you asleep should be the least of your worries.

You rubbed your eyes and thought about your next move.

[emo-queer-boi]

I think is because of comments like this that Im more heartbroken over Shane doing this than the others, now don't get me wrong I'm not part of the "shane was pushed into doing this by the two evil greedy guys he calls friends" (which btw reeks of racism) the fact that I'm not part of it makes it more sad to me, because I Know he decided to do this, he knows how hard it is to just buy groceries nowadays, not even getting specific into the age group of most of the fans.

I simply can't afford it, I had originally written a whole paragraph about my situation rn and went into a lot of over sharing about really tragic things but I really don't Have to, I can't afford it, and thats that, and it's an understatement to say I've been through many situations where I haven't been able to afford stuff that would have helped my mental health but they were too on the side of "wants" and not "needs"

So no, I'm not upset over this because "boo hoo I dont want to spend money/I'm not used to not getting things I want for free." I'm upset over this and it feels like a slap in the face when it comes from someone like Shane, who says stuff like this that makes me and others think he gets it enough to not put all his future content behind a paywall when so many of us find it comfort content

I know a lot of us are mostly blaming Steven for this, and bringing up stuff about his life like the tesla or food habits and all that, but I beg you guys to see that as big of a shitty thing it is to be out of touch and oblivious about how much your audience can take, I consider it honestly just as bad if not worse to Know and still do it

No I don't think Shane is rich, or at the same level as a famous actor or that charging us 6 dollars for future content is the same level of tone deaf and pretentiousness as celebrities singing Imagine during the pandemic

Another disclaimer: I'm pretty fucking priviledge when it comes to money that my parents can pay for me to have all the necessities to not only survive nowadays but actually enjoy it with certain comforts, I still can't afford it, so I really don't want to think about how people that don't have my privileges feel about this

All in all, shitty fucking decision with understandable reasons pushing it to happen, I don't think any content creator wants to depend on YouTube deciding on giving them sponsors that magically go with the video they're supporting

But please stop acting like Shane isn't a grown man that is aware of not only everything he has stood for in the past but the way things have gotten worse lately for I would say 99% of us

[badkitty3000]

just read “you are my constant” and i NEED more of your thoughts on five and delores’ relationship. kinda loved how open five is with viv on his past with her

First off, thank you thank you for reading that fic! That was one of my longer, more psychologically based one-shots, so I appreciate you checking it out.

I have probably written Five's past with Dolores a few different ways, depending on the type of fic I'm writing and the person he's in a relationship with at the time. In general, they are mostly the same but with some minor differences. But for the sake of this ask, I will base it off of how I wrote him in my Halo series.

Five and Dolores are tragic. If I could pick one incredibly sad thing out of all the sad things in Five's life, that would be it. Because she IS Five and Five IS Dolores. Five is also not stupid and so he KNOWS he is crazy and that she is not real. He KNOWS she is a coping mechanism and the other side to his psyche, created to keep him marginally sane so that he could stay alive and get back to his family. That doesn't make her any less real in his mind or in his memories, though. I also don't think, despite him knowing that he comes across as a bit cuckoo, that he is ashamed of her. When he comes back to 2019, finding her is one of the first things he does. He risks his life to get her back. And he has no issue showing his affection for her in front of his family, either. He knows if he's going to have any chance at figuring out how to stop the apocalypse, he needs her by his side. That being said, I also don't think Five feels the need to disclose that part of himself to just anyone. While he may not be ashamed, he's also pretty closed off. So, blurting out that he created a mannequin wife for himself to live with for 45 years to just anyone probably is not going to happen. He knows anyone that hears that story is going to either thinks he's an idiot or pity him, and he is not interested in either of those things.

During the apocalypse, Dolores was the most human side of him. She spoke to him, encouraged him, guided him, and scolded him. Whatever he did, she would be there to show him the other side of the coin. Whether it was reminding him that he was good and still had a heart, or that he needed to continue on in order to save the world, she would be there. If he taxed himself too much, risking injury or illness, she was there to remind him to be careful. If he was losing his mind with grief or anger, she would step in to soothe him and remind him of why he needed to keep going and survive. If he drank too much, she would judge him harshly and tell him he was being stupid. All of these things are what Five himself knew, but he just needed another voice to tell him.

With Five and Vivian, he started off being pretty closed off to her. When he finally spilled his guts about everything, that included telling her about Dolores. Right away, Viv started getting emotional over it but Five just ignored her tears. It was an essential part of his past he needed to share with her, but he didn't want her pity. I imagine that in the beginning of their relationship, he would tell her little bits and pieces about his and Dolores' life together, with Vivian listening intently and trying not to say anything to upset or annoy him. Eventually, after many years, it would just become a normal part of their lives. Once in a while, she would tease him and say things like "Poor Dolores...I don't know how she put up with your bitching for all those years. The woman was a saint!" which Five prefers over her feeling sad for him. If anyone else tried to make a comment, he'd get defensive. But with Viv, he knows it's all out of love and he'll just huff and roll his eyes, trying to hide a smile.

In "You Are My Constant", Five tells Viv a little story about seeing the northern lights with Dolores one time during the apocalypse. When Viv gets misty eyed, he tells her "I didn't tell you that to make you sad. You don't have to cry for me all the time." (I might be misquoting my own fic, I'm too lazy to go back and look, but that's the gist of it) And he's not saying it in a shitty way, because he appreciates that his wife cares for him and his past that much, but he also really means it. He does not want her pity or her tears every time he opens up to her about Dolores. He wants to be able to share his past with her like any other normal husband would with their wife.

He still thinks about Dolores from time to time, even as he gets older (again) and has his new life and family. Because how could he not? She was literally a part of him for the majority of his life, and you can't just erase that. (*cough* looking at you season four *cough*) So, when things come up that remind him of her, he probably just keeps it to himself. Going out shopping and seeing mannequins in the store is an obvious one that even Viv would know about, but there would be other, more private things that he wouldn't always share with her. Like if he sees a book that he read to Dolores during their quiet nights by the fire, or someone passes by wearing a sequined shirt, he'll smile to himself but won't say anything out loud. If he's working intently on something he can't figure out, he'll automatically start talking to Dolores without even realizing it, because it's so ingrained in his psyche. "Yes, I think I understand the concept of centripetal acceleration, Dolores...I'm not a moron."

She also comes to him in his dreams. Once in a while they might be nice, romantic dreams that leave him feeling a little bit horny when he wakes up, but most of the time they are nightmares. Dolores trapped under rubble, screaming for Five to help her but he's frozen to the spot. He'll yell her name out loud before waking up in a sweaty panic. Then he'll feel like absolute garbage because he just screamed another woman's name while his wife is sleeping beside him. Viv doesn't mind, obviously, because she knows it's all part of his PTSD. But Five still feels awful and wishes he could forget everything and just be a normal human. He hates that his traumatic past sneaks up on him like that, trying to ruin the good life he has now. (I actually did write this scene in Promise To Kill, the 4th story in that series)

Fun fact (not really)! When I first wrote Halo, I had never bothered to look into the translation of what Five is saying to his hallucination of Dolores in Season 3. I knew it was romantic but I had no idea what he said. Oblivious to this, I ended up writing Five calling Vivian his angel, and that's his name for her going forward through the whole rest of the series. In hindsight, I probably wouldn't have done that, because as it turns out, that's what Five called Dolores. Or maybe that works, considering he loves both of them? But I still feel a little bad because that's kind of a slight to both women. That's just how I viewed Five would feel about anyone he would fall in love with, though. Here is this woman, willing to overlook all of his trauma and horrible acts he has committed during his life, and Five can't quite believe that. So, to him, she has been sent from (figurative) heaven to save his wretched soul and he'll never understand why he is worthy of that. But, sorry Dolores...I never meant to steal your thunder!

In summary, Five and Dolores are complicated. He hates that he ever had to invent her in the first place. He wishes he could forget her, but at the same time he loves her and will never stop loving her, even when he finally has a new life and unconditional love of a real woman. She is an essential part of him, and one he is grateful for. He is not ashamed of her, but also not willing to discuss her very often. His memories of her are sad, happy, and painful. She will never be fully gone, and that is both a comfort and a burden for him.

Thanks for this ask! Sorry it got a little long there 😊

[leportraitducadavre]

I saw some Naruto stans say that it's not Naruto's fault that he projects onto people cuz Pain and Obito both projected onto him first and told him they were similar. Therefore Naruto just responds to them and tries to show he understands them to a degree and it's basic empathy - which sounds kinda wrong to me but I don't know why. Maybe it's cuz to me he seems to put himself on the higher moral ground as he chose to forgive his enemy and doesn't care about what causes their pain, he also seems to think that their pain is all the same but again Pain and Obito starts it first so I guess it's fair. Or maybe it's all just my bias, idk, what do u think about this?

I've wrote something on the matter before, so I'll copy it here:

To expect nothing but gratitude from a subjugated group when intervened/helped by a representative of the community that subjugated them in the first place (white people) is Hollywood-level nonsense. For instance, to believe that a third-world country will welcome with open arms the assistance of USA militia to “restore peace” when such a country was devastated economically by first-world international politics that forced their currencies to lower their value to keep the dollar and euro afloat is only possible in their cinematic productions. (...) Naruto is another prime example, he’s the Captain America/Santiago Maratea of the Narutoverse, the representation of the repressor that wants to help the repressed with what he considers they need, without actually listening to what they have to say and, furthermore, without questioning his nation/culture responsibility on the matter. The system ends up untouched because the actions of Konoha against minority groups and/or nations get solely linked to a person rather than the entire nationalist structure.  And let me add something here for good measure: Being part of a subjugated group does not automatically make you empathetic towards every subjugated group nor does exclude you from becoming/being an oppressor. (...) In this sense, Naruto is from a subjugated and minoritarian group (there are nine bijuus, so nine jinchurikis at most), yet he became the oppressor when he silenced other minorities to push his narrative. I have read people commenting on the issue: “Why do they ask for help if afterward, they will complain about it?!” And it's one thing to help and another thing to provide alms. The first one implies a relationship where both parties work as equals regardless of one of them being more equipped to provide assistance, while the other puts one of them in a position of moral, economic, and cultural superiority that ultimately ends up reproducing the system that put one above the other in the first place; forcing the subjugated to live off the goodwill of the subjugator. In that sense, Naruto made minorities absolutely dependent on him. He transformed himself into a necessity because it’s not about Konoha in itself but about Naruto in the Hokage’s seat; if he dies, nothing guarantees that minority groups will be safe from future governments because Naruto’s system depends on him and his wishes. People acknowledged him as he wanted because he forced them to; small nations are bound to watch him because their existence and/or survival depend on him. The idea of the white boy, the hero, is about control over those he helps and, more importantly, about the acknowledgment that should come for his actions. Good actions must have a reward, and that reward always translates to power: The acknowledgment of those he saves, who then put him on a pedestal and become dependent on him and, in the case of Naruto, the Hokage’s seat and the absolute and very real power that comes with it.  The white savior narrative still puts the idea of goodness and justice in white hands, it doesn’t question the oppressor/oppressed, superior/inferior dynamic because white people are still the ones with the power to determine what’s fair and what's not, what’s good or not, and most importantly, what justice actually means: If it's carried out by white people (particularly men), then is justice; if it's carried out by non-white people, then is violence and subversion.

Source

Within the military-political structure in which they communicate, there is no instance where two people belonging to the groups to which the aforementioned characters belong do not resemble each other. Naruto, Obito, and Nagato are people who, under the premise of a natural biological condition (Sharingan), an imposed nature (Kyuubi), or a geographical position (Ame), were repressed, used as a weapon at the disposal of the government and/or stripped of any human condition. In that sense, none of the three differ too much from other members of the shinobi forces, so their similarities are reflected in several, if not almost all, the members of such a system.

Obito and Nagato reflecting themselves in Naruto does not have to do with similarities beyond those mentioned since they are aware that they share such aspects with more than one individual; rather, they use such argument to deepen the logic of their actions.

The relevance of Naruto and the reason why they carry out such speech has little to do with him being a perfect reflection of both of them, but with him being the jinchuuriki of the strongest tailed beast [besides their interactions being a device used by Kishimoto to allow Naruto to change their minds]. Obito and Nagato use their experiences to connect with Naruto and explain their reasoning, while Naruto counteracts by arguing their actions under the premise of "I had it similar/worse, and I didn't become a traitor of the state therefore your response to oppression is out of proportion."

Naruto perceives injustice only when it’s similar to the one he lived (like Hinata or Lee), so he’s not someone who empathizes with everyone’s pain or tries to understand their motives:

Regarding Naruto’s characterization, antagonizing the "prodigy" notion is incredibly important to him, not because he (truly) denies the strength of those who are given the title, but because their existence denies him of the acknowledgment he seeks, as all his accomplishments are "overshadowed" by Neji and Sasuke's sole presence. Therefore being recognized (positively so) by their ninja skills (as such is the political and cultural importance of such aspects inside the Shinobi system) is, to him, the most important category when pointing out a person’s value.  To Naruto (and a big portion of the fandom) Neji is not considered a failure (unlike himself, Hinata, or Lee) therefore he somehow has an easier life despite being, in every other manner, oppressed by his family. This is a mindset that Konoha in itself teaches to its citizens as this dogma’s value rests on the fact that it guarantees the success and preservation of the status quo established. Therefore, for Will of Fire supporters,  Sasuke couldn’t be discriminated against because he was praised for his techniques/was popular, Neji might be a slave but he’s incredibly valuable to Konoha due to his strength, so there is some sort of “retribution”.  The problem with this mindset is that it diminishes valid criticisms as it downgrades minorities' arguments by pointing out the person's "worth" inside the overall structure: They're valuable for Konoha's militia as their power benefits them militarily, therefore this recognition discredits any other way they are politically, culturally or economically oppressed.

Source

He usually changes the subject when in front of someone oppressed by the system to return to his own experiences, for what he seeks is to generate empathy by putting himself as the bigger victim to downgrade the other’s response to such abuse. By comparing his story to others and by telling them that although he understands them, he condones their way of dealing with the trauma, he's questioning their status as victims, implying that their disproportionate reaction leads to nothing more than the repetition of the same "cycle of hate"; without realizing that the defense of that same system perpetuates violence against minorities.

In his mind, expanding such violence against those in power doesn't solve violence in itself, but he fails to give a permanent solution to the oppressed's conundrum. He encourages them to seek a resolve through dialogue, as he puts himself at the forefront of such an answer (becoming the representative of all oppressed) without understanding that such a path only guarantees minorities to keep suffering until a solution is reached through time.

[mixelation]

has Kakashi/Shisui ever been on a real mission with Tori? (Or Deidara for that matter) Since you mentioned that Deidara is technically part of R&D, do Tori and Deidara go on R&D missions together? Are "R&D missions" even a thing? It's just hard to imagine her on like a legit mission with people who know her and are not reborn!Akatsuki

i haven't hammered out how R&D really... works, yet. i know most of tori's day-to-day activities are research-related. i think most "R&D missions" are internal. like, you'll get assigned to develop a justu that does xyz, or test out the efficacy of some new field protocol someone proposed, etc. you might have external missions to observe or collect something, but i think those are more like "R&D requests the mission, it goes into the general mission pool, someone from R&D may or may not actually be assigned." R&D ninja can take gen pool missions depending on what their assignment in R&D is like, or their expertise might get them assigned to gen pool missions requiring niche knowledge/techniques/etc

deidara has an R&D affiliation because minato is like "oooh that kid needs specialized space or he's going to blow up something important," and then from there it's a lot of R&D higher ups begging him to formally write down how his justu actually, like, work. sometimes someone is like "hey wait can you make you hyper useful animated clay do x?" and then they have to listen to him give an insane diatribe on art, but sometimes he does go and do it. but i don't think he's assigned to any research groups and his main goal as formally stated by the hokage's office is to just be a better ninja (most R&D ninja are not like this, but it's not uncommon for someone to be there for this purpose). so deidara also regularly takes field missions

tori gets field missions less often, but she ends up on a lot of random ones because having a fuinjutsu master on hand is really useful and there's not a lot of them. i talked a little about this before, but i don't think it would be insane for her to be temporarily assigned to an ANBU team that needs fuinjutsu for some reason, or for someone from ANBU to be stuck on a gen pool team including tori. i think minato might be hesitant to match her with kakashi or shisui, but it's not... impossible. idk it might be fun to have them interact in a professional capacity. the tori mood for this au is that she is incredibly good at what she does; it just always comes as a surprise that she is lol

i decided medics do have to put in a certain number of hours training/in the hospital to maintain their status as medics, so what's MORE likely (and possibly funnier) is shisui going in for stitches and tori being like "guess who's doing her mandatory hours!!!!!" (i don't think tori is like.... great as an actual medic. certain aspects of it she's fantastic at because it's her research interest, but she doesn't actually like practicing medicine, and she's constantly trying to dodge her hospital shifts or count missions where she did 0 medical jutsu toward her hours)

one thing i want to play with is tori in a situation where other people's wellbeing/survival depends on her. like a mission gone wrong where she realizes she's the one who has to get other people to safety. i think this would be fun because tori.... never has to do this? she's always been the weakest on the team, and she doesn't consider herself a leader