#but if i had to pick three those are definitely my choices | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pearlessance · 3 months ago

Text

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.

444 notes · View notes

seraphinitegames · 5 months ago

Text

The Wayhaven Chronicles—Update 19/July/2024

Some really fun scenes to write this week!

One of them being a major villain POV, which I just had a blast with, hehe! :D

As I was writing, I wanted to make sure this villain’s main strength was obvious, and how much it contrasts with some of vampires, who definitely don’t have this strength. *cough*A, N, and M*cough*

Adaptability.

Having someone who can adapt and react to situations, especially ones they are SO unfamiliar with, incredibly fast is a surprisingly strong—and terrifying—trait for this villain and something a bit different! But they really do it very well :D

I also got started on the scenes for the different Units, and the MC gets to interact with a different Commanding Agent of the three available depending on which one gets rolled up in the random selection for that scene.

Writing the different ways those characters approach those moments—all different but with the view of a leader—definitely shows why they were picked from their teams to be the ones in charge! It was great fun writing the choice sets for the MC and working out how these characters would respond to that, especially some of the more intense choices!

I also FINALLY made the very last decision on the new stats that are going in that relate to your character’s new role as an Agent! It’s taken a looong time as well as a lot of reworking, but I’m finally happy with them and think they will have impact needed. Stats aren’t really my thing, so I wanted a selection that would actually add and enhance the choices and variations rather than just simply adding in things to add points.

Also got those coded in, as we’re coming up to the section where you start really pushing forward on those! The stats your character has gathered so far will still play into narrative, it’s just these will help add a different element for the more Agency-focused career your character is now a part of!

So yeah, a seriously fun week of really getting to some awesomely fun scenes with characters I can’t wait for you to interact with and meet, hehe! :D

It looks like we’re still on schedule for the late July/early August release of Chapter Two in the demo! Will keep you updated on how that is going too as I get comments/edits back.

Hope you all have the most amazing weekend! We’ll be offline as usual, so I’ll update you all again next week! <3

#the wayhaven chronicles #interactive fiction #twc detective #unit bravo #romance #vampires #update #twc book 4 #the wayhaven chronicles book 4 #villain romance

327 notes · View notes

ophelisstuff · 7 months ago

Note

Paige bueckers × reader who loves books.

BOOKWORM | P.B X READER

authors note : i’ve been procrastinating on this big time srry if it’s not the best.

requested by : @paqerings

summery : Paige, someone who isn’t a fan of books finds herself tolerating all because of the person she’s fallen in love with.

word count : 808.

warnings : fluff that’s it

You and Paige had met at Uconn’s library on a rainy day. You being there to check out books for fun and Paige being there to find text books because she had no other choice.

A stack of books in your hand, you walked through the isles of bookshelves — looking for anything else that caught your eye. Unaware that the odd amount of books in your hand had caught Paige’s.

“Are you really going to read all those books?” The blonde questioned, disregarding the fact you were a complete stranger. Focused on finding out why there were so many books in your hand.

“Every last one” You replied, knowing that you wouldn’t be returning to the library until the pile of books in your hand were all completed.

“That’s impossible. no human is reading that many books.” Paige shrugged, finding it unbelievable that a person would optionally spend their time buried in a book.

The blonde just couldn’t understand it. What was it about books that grabbed everyones attention but hers?

Paige hated the idea of reading a book so much, she found herself on the brink of tears when having to study.

Even daring to pay classmates or bribe friends to complete reading assignments because she’d rather be out or playing basketball for fun.

“It’s definitely possible” You muttered, confusion building as you wondered why this familiar blonde was following you around all of a sudden.

It wasn’t like you didn’t know who she was. Everyone on campus knew of Paige Bueckers and admired her athletic talents.

However, you couldn’t get over the way she just talked your ear off and walked alongside you.

Disregarding any thought of you being a stranger and talking as if you two were the closest of friends. “Have you ever read a book?”

You asked, stopping in front of the mystery section — eyes drifting from book spine to book spine for something eye catching.

“No- well yes - duh. Just not a chapter book of any sort. It’s never been my thing so i’ve never tried to”

The blonde admitted, standing beside you — watching as you became fixated on the book titles.

“Well, find the right book and when you do, get back to me” You encouraged, sending the girl a short lived smile.

Picking up a final book as you headed to the front desk in order to check out.

Leaving the blonde with curiosity and confusion as she watched you walk away. Realizing she hadn’t even gotten a chance to introduce herself — let alone ask your name.

However, the blonde decided to take your advice and find a book that suited her — determined to impress you in the future.

present day —

“Can you hurry up! I wanna know what happens to Lucy Gray!”

Paige shouted, growing impatience as she sat on the couch — holding a copy of her The Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds & Snakes in her hands.

Finding herself obsessed with the Hunger Games book series — the blonde had managed to ‘read’ all three books from the series. And having you read the forth to complete it.

In all honesty, Paige still hadn’t read a full book on her own. Often times listening to the audio version of it or having you read a chapter to her daily.

The confusion for your love of books remained the same, however she’d grown to admire how fixated you were on them.

Growing use to how you always carried a book on you, reading whenever you could wherever you could.

Often times venturing to Barnes and Noble’s when you go book shopping. Her interest drifting to the lego sets while you walk the endless shelves of books.

“Give me a second! I’m finding a blanket”

You yelled back, picking up the throw blanket off of your girlfriends bed. Placing your reading glasses on your face as you walked down the hallway and to the living room.

“Finally! took you long enough” She muttered with a smile.

Throwing the blanket on Paige, you smiled laid beside her. The blondes head instantly becoming situated and comfortable on your shoulder.

“Oh whatever, hand me the book”

You joked, taking the story book out of her hand. Unaware of how a complete stranger who hated books turned into your girlfriend who tolerated certain ones.

You found solace in books, and being able to read them to your girlfriend — cuddled up on the couch brought you even more peace.

You nor Paige would trade this experience for anything else in the world. Often times expressing how you were both grateful for that interaction at the school’s library.

“Chapter eleven. Lucy Gray’s words stung but, on reflection, were well deserved.”

You began, Paige becoming silent as she listened to your soothing voice. Eager to hear the story being told.

#paige bueckers x reader #wlw #uconn wbb #paige bueckers #wlw x reader #paigebueckersheadcanons #paige x reader #paigebueckersfluff

512 notes · View notes

fics-and-quotes-andthelike · 8 months ago

Text

What Happens in the Shadows

Title: What Happens in the Shadows

Pairing: Alastor x reader

Word Count: ~5,155

In which Mimzy has suspicions about Alastor’s feelings towards the reader, and plans to use them to her advantage.

A/N: Part 4 of my Never and Always series

Warnings: TRIGGER WARNING (attempted assault), angst, fluff

Mimzy was a lot of things. She was loud, she was brash, she was showy, and she was bold. She was also, however, good at picking up a scent. Whether it was a good deal to be made, money to be earned, or an advantage to be won, Mimzy was there.

This usually led to one of two things.

One, she would get too confident, pushing herself into a corner when the tables inevitably turned against her, leaving her scrambling to the closest ally she had as a defense.

The second option was much more rare, when she would take her time, allowing herself to gather enough facts to truly know a demon’s weaknesses before pouncing and closing a deal. Though it didn’t happen often, those that did manage to fall under Mimzy’s control were there for eternity, serving and slaving away as she ever so slowly gathered more power.

Mimzy was ever so hungry for power, after all, even if she was bad at obtaining it.

Which is why, when she witnessed the small spectacle at her club between her dear friend Alastor and a lowly sinner who had done nothing but dance with a woman, the gears in her head had started to turn.

She had never mentioned the incident to anyone else, of course. She wasn’t stupid. She knew that the Radio Demon would have her head if she so much as breathed a word of it.

But he couldn’t stop her from thinking. He couldn’t stop her from watching. He couldn’t stop her from noticing. And he most definitely couldn’t stop her from coming.

~~~

“Ya think ya boyfriend would let mine go if you asked nicely?”

You flushed and looked away. “Alastor is not my boyfriend.”

Angel Dust winked over at you. “Uh-huh, sure. Whateva ya say, dollface.”

“He’s not,” you insisted. “We’re just friends.”

From his place behind the hotel bar, Husk put down the cup he was cleaning and looked up at you. “You and Angel are ‘just friends’. You and me? Just friends. You and Alastor?” He shook his head, picking up a new cup as he looked over at you with an expression of vague concern. “You’re more than that.”

“Ha!” Angel said as he pointed over at Husk in triumph.

You could feel embarrassment pooling into your stomach. “You’re both wrong. Al doesn’t-” you struggled to find the words. “Al doesn’t like anyone that way,” you said hesitantly. “And I know for a fact that he doesn’t like me that way. He just feels responsible for me now, that’s all.”

Husk huffed lightly, his eyes narrowing. “Alastor’s never felt responsible for anyone in his life. Not for the souls he’s collected, and definitely not for a sinner that doesn’t owe him any more than the dirt on her shoes.”

You looked away. “I do owe him,” you muttered. “He saved my life.”

Angel laughed forcefully. “That was his choice, toots. You don’t owe him nothin’, ya hear me?” He glanced over at you, his expression bordering on desperation as he searched your eyes.

Maybe you didn’t agree, but it wouldn’t do anybody any good to have Angel and Husk worrying over you with each passing moment while you stubbornly believed that Alastor was a good man who had earned your trust long ago.

So instead, you nodded, smiling softly. “I know.”

Angel nodded firmly, but the concern in his eyes was still overwhelmingly present.

You couldn’t blame him, of course, but you wished with all of your undead heart that the three most important people in your life would just get along. Not that it would ever happen while Alastor held Husk’s soul.

You let out a long exhale before you clapped your hands together and smiled over at the hotel’s bartender. “Alright, enough of that.”

Angel Dust’s expression relaxed as he turned to Husk as well. “She’s right. Pour me a drink.”

Husk returned your grin with one of his own, pouring the three of you a glass and sliding yours over.

The three of you sat in silence for a moment, staring down at your drinks as you thought. You couldn’t say exactly what was going on in Husk and Angel’s heads, but you knew that you personally were thinking about a specific radio-themed Overlord.

You hadn’t seen Alastor since the two of you had danced together in your bedroom a few days prior. It made sense that you hadn’t seen him the day after, of course. It was your day with Angel, and Alastor would love nothing less than to get involved in your makeover session.

The days after that though, were different. Normally, you’d at least catch a glimpse of the demon before he left the hotel to run his radio show or do whatever else Overlords did in their free time. If you weren’t able to catch him before he left, he would always drop by the hotel a little later on, even if just for a moment. But no matter what, he would always stop by your room at the end of the day, and the two of you would just talk.

But now, you hadn’t seen or heard from Alastor in days. You weren’t worried, per say. You knew he was more than capable of taking care of himself. You did miss him, though, and you would be lying if you said that you weren’t looking forward to your next evening conversation.

You drummed your hands lightly on the counter before shifting off of your barstool. It wasn’t likely that Alastor had finally stopped by, but it wouldn’t hurt to check. “I think I’m going to turn in for the night.”

Angel Dust quirked an eyebrow at you playfully. “Sure thing, toots. Just goin’ to bed, nothin’ to do with Smiles at all, right?”

You blushed and turned away, walking towards the staircase leading up to your room. “Goodnight.”

“Have fun,” Angel called up after you as you climbed the stairs and walked down the hallway to your room as quickly as possible.

You breathed a deep sigh of relief when you were able to reach your bedroom without any more comments from Angel. Though, that was probably courtesy of Husk. You made a mental note to thank him in the morning.

You closed your door behind you and leaned against it with a sigh.

Something flitted across your vision. You jerked back.

The object popped up in front of you, causing you to bite back a scream before you recognized it as Alastor’s shadow.

You huffed in annoyance and pushed away from your door, walking around the shadow and making your way to your bed before plopping yourself down. “That was absolutely unnecessary,” you said.

The shadow only smiled, quickly weaving its way over to sit beside you. It took your hand and raised it, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

You blushed. “Fine, I forgive you,” you said with a giggle.

The shadow’s smile broadened, using its other hand to gently put its claws to your throat as your laughter slowed.

“Not that I don’t love to see you,” you said as your eyes took a quick scan of your room. “But where’s Alastor?�� The shadow made a small noise before reaching back and pulling a note off of your nightstand. It turned your hand over to place the folded piece of paper in your palm.

You pulled your hand back and opened the note, your eyes skimming over it as you tried to keep your heart from sinking.

It was a short note, and straight to the point. Alastor wouldn’t be coming back to the hotel that night due to some unfinished business with gaining new territory. He didn’t know when he’d be back. He wished you a good night.

You folded the note again and placed it in between yourself and the shadow. “It’s alright,” you said, forcing a smile on your face. “I understand.”

But the shadow’s smile had lessened significantly, and it stared at you almost expectantly.

“I’m fine, really,” you insisted. “I know he’s busy. I’m just glad he’s okay.”

The shadow looked unconvinced. But, you noticed with disappointment, its eyes had started to flicker back to your window.

“You need to go,” you said. It wasn’t a question.

The shadow looked back at you regretfully.

You reached out and placed your hands on its cheeks, lowering its head until your foreheads touched. “I’ll be okay,” you said quietly. “I promise.”

You released it and moved back.

The shadow caught your hands and pulled you back in, pressing a kiss to each of your palms before pressing them to its chest where its beating heart would have been. It gave you one last long look before it released you and melted back into the shadows, disappearing out your window.

You stared after it for a moment. Part of you wished that it had been Alastor who had come into your room and kissed your palms goodnight. The other, less selfish part of you knew that he had done the best that he could, and you appreciated it more than words could say.

“Don’t worry, he’s always like this,” a voice said from the other side of your room.

You nearly jumped out of your skin as you spun around, searching for its source.

Mimzy stepped forward from the shadows and gave you a sickening smile. “It doesn't mean he doesn't care about you.”

“What are you doing here?” you blurted without thinking. Your hands clutched your bed sheets as she approached you as casually as you would approach a friend in public. But you weren’t in public. And you most definitely weren’t friends.

“Oh, don’t give me that, doll,” Mimzy said with a wave of her hand. “I’ve been dying to see you ever since Al brought you to my club.”

“Why?” you asked before pressing your lips together. It wouldn’t do you any good to antagonize her, you knew. But you couldn’t seem to stop yourself. “What do you want from me?”

A small voice in the back of your head wondered how she had managed to slink into the shadows and avoid Alastor’s. Shadows were part of his domain, after all. Shouldn’t he have sensed her?

Mimzy’s smile changed into something more sinister. “I don’t want anything from you, doll. You’re a sweet little thing, but-” she looked you up and down with a note of disdain. “I have a feeling you wouldn’t make me much revenue.”

You felt an anger flare up inside of you. You stood, crossing your arms and pasting what you hoped was a firm expression on your face. “If you don’t want anything from me, why go out of your way to sneak into my room?”

The club owner’s smile only grew. “Relax, sugar, I’m not here to trick you into services. I’m here to talk about ol’ Alastor.”

You tried to hide the surprise and fear that shot through your core. “What about him?”

“Well,” Mimzy said with nonchalance as she began to stroll through your bedroom, poking at your belongings. “We both know that he tends to keep to himself. Not many friends, but loads of enemies, am I right? But he’s really just a sweetheart, that’s why we’ve been friends for years now.”

You blinked. “Alright.”

“But,” Mimzy continued, her voice oddly sweet. “I noticed the other night that he’s taken a bit of a shine to you.”

You dropped your arms and shook your head. “That’s not true. Alastor and I-”

Mimzy waved a hand dismissively. “Now, I’m not one to stir up unnecessary drama. But Al’s my friend, so I’ve been a bit worried about him since then.” She turned to look at you, her eyes boring intently into yours. “He’s an Overlord, you know. Lots of enemies. If any of them find out about you, think about what it’ll do to his reputation. Or worse,” she said, her eyes widening dramatically as she placed her hands on her cheeks. “His power.”

You flinched.

If you were being honest, the very same thought had crossed your mind more than once. Every time you went out with Alastor, even for a brief moment, you worried about being seen with him. You worried what it would do for his image.

He had been quick to ease your concerns, reassuring you that nobody would dare cross him, even if he were to be seen with you.

Even so, you had noticed that he was careful to never touch you, and rarely ever look at you, when the two of you were in public.

But, it seemed, despite all of his precautions, that your night together at Mimzy’s might have started something that you had feared from the very beginning.

You swallowed heavily, meeting Mimzy’s gaze as you repeated the same words that Alastor had said to you, time and time again. “Nobody would dare cross the Radio Demon.”

Mimzy nodded enthusiastically in agreement. “Of course they wouldn’t, sugar. But they might mess with you. And if Al cares about you half as much as I think he does, well, that’ll be enough to ruin everything that he’s ever worked for.”

You bit your lip with worry. You were never quite as good as Alastor when it came to hiding your emotions. “So why did you come to me?”

The demoness shrugged. “I knew Al would never listen if I told him that you were bad for him.”

You winced.

“But,” she continued, “I thought maybe you could convince him.”

An alarm bell began to ring in the back of your mind. “Convince him of what?” you asked wearily.

“To keep his distance from you,” Mimzy said, a little too quickly for your liking. “The longer you stick around, the more he gets attached. And the more he gets attached, well…” she smiled, her teeth sharp and her eyes dark. “The more likely it is that our old friend gets tossed out of commission.”

Your gaze hardened. “You want me to stay away from Al? Fat chance.”

Mimzy laughed, the sound forced and brittle. “Not at all, sugar. I won’t be the one who ripped the two of you apart.” She began walking towards your bedroom door. “In fact, I think you two are adorable together. But, you see, it’s not just Alastor I’m looking out for. I’ve gotta take care of myself, too,” she said as she turned to face you.

You recoiled at the sight of her hardened eyes and cruel expression.

Your bedroom door opened, revealing two large demons that closed the door behind them, blocking your exit. You whirled around as another demon entered through your window, cutting off your only other means of escape.

“Mimzy-” you began.

“Don’t you worry, doll. They can’t exactly kill you again, can they?” she giggled. “They’ll just rough you up a little so that Alastor can finally come to his senses.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked as panic began to set in.

“Let me explain it in simple terms for you, hun. I need you to help me break Alastor and get him away from you. Whether or not you help me willingly is completely up to you,” she said with a shrug.

“If Al does care about me,” you said desperately, “then it won’t do any good for you to hurt me. This is just going to make things worse for him. It’ll make him angry. He’ll lash out.”

Mimzy’s eerie grin only grew in size. “Oh, I’m counting on it, sugar. I can’t exactly gain more territory with the Radio Demon breathing down everyone’s neck. If I can get to him through you, he’ll be too upset to think straight.” She chuckled. “If I’m lucky, he’ll be the cause of his own downfall. With him out of the way, things can be the way they’re meant to be.”

The three demons surrounding you came closer.

“Mimzy,” you gasped. “Please, don’t do this. Alastor’s one of your oldest friends, he doesn’t deserve this.”

The club owner tilted her head in consideration. “Well, I suppose I can make an exception.” Her teeth flashed. “If you were willing to cut a deal with me.”

The demons grew closer still.

You could feel your resolve faltering. One measly deal to get out of this mess didn’t sound too bad. But as you looked back over at Mimzy, her eyes flashing and her smile turning into a snarl, the voice in your head that screamed out to protect Alastor came to the forefront of your mind with full force. Any deal that you made with Mimzy would only be used to hurt Alastor, and you would never forget how you had met him in the first place.

He had saved you once. You weren’t going to make him save you again.

You straightened and stared straight into Mimzy’s eyes. “I hope you get what’s coming to you,” you spat.

The sinner shrugged. “Whatever you say, doll. Have fun, fellas!”

You heard your door open and close as the demons drew nearer, blocking your view.

A deep fear spread throughout your body, starting in your chest and working its way out. You could scream, but you were almost certain that Mimzy had found a way to mute the sounds from your room to the rest of the hotel. Nobody was coming to save you.

You squeezed your eyes shut and braced yourself as a feeling of regret shot through your heart. You had never thanked Husk for having your back. You had never finished your makeover with Anthony. You had never told your friends how much they had helped you, and how much you appreciated them.

You had never told Alastor that you loved him.

You let out a sob. You cursed yourself for crying.

A hand grabbed your arm roughly, your eyes flying open in horror. But before the demon could do so much as pull you closer, a shadow swept through your window and across the room, knocking the other two demons away from you. The third demon tightened his grip on your arm, but it was already much too late.

The lights in your room began to flicker as a new shadow entered your room. It grew in size, becoming more and more solid until it finally took the shape of one of the most feared Overlords in Hell.

“I do believe,” Alastor said to the last standing demon as his antlers began to grow and his eyes began to flicker. “You have something that belongs to me.”

You didn’t wait to hear the demon’s response before you shut your eyes and turned away. You knew what came next, and though you had yet to argue with Alastor over his methods, you had no wish to see them for yourself.

The demon’s hand was ripped from your arm. Even without your sight, you were able to hear the screams of all three intruders as Alastor and his shadow punished them a mere feet away from you.

You sank down onto the ground, keeping your eyes closed as you pulled your knees up to your chest and buried your head in your arms. The tears that had begun to flow earlier suddenly returned with a vengeance, making their way down your cheeks as you sobbed violently.

You’re safe. You’re safe. Al is here now. You’re safe, you thought to yourself as you pulled your knees in tighter.

But another, horrible voice spoke up as you cried. He wasn’t able to see Mimzy, it said. Why wasn’t he able to see Mimzy? If this happens again, will he know? Will he miss it?

Can he save me?

You gasped and whipped your head up when a gentle hand brushed your arm.

Alastor was staring right back at you, kneeling on your floor. His smile was tense and close-lipped, his expression concerned. “It’s only me, mon chere.”

You glanced behind him and noticed vaguely that Mimzy’s three demons were nowhere to be seen.

Your chest began to hitch as you tried to hold your tears back. “I’m so sorry, Al,” you said, hating the way your voice broke. “I should have been able to defend myself, I’m so sorry.” The tears began again, your body slumping forward as you began to weep.

A pair of arms caught you and gathered your body closer until you were resting against a warm chest.

Al’s shadow, you thought to yourself as you nuzzled closer.

One of its arms wrapped around your back, holding you close, while its other hand grasped one of yours and pressed it to its chest. It held you tightly, allowing you to cry and hiccup into its shoulder.

You weren’t sure how long you sat there before your sobs became whimpers, and your whimpers became hiccups. You weren’t sure how long it held you before you were able to breathe properly.

The hand holding yours released you gently, coming up to wipe your tears away from your face.

You finally opened your swollen eyes, already regretting having been found in such a vulnerable state.

You came face to face with Alastor’s shadow. Holding Alastor’s staff.

Standing across the room.

You gasped and pulled back violently, causing yourself to fall out of Alastor’s lap and onto your floor.

The Overlord didn’t react, instead watching you with an expressionless smile on his face.

“I thought you were your shadow,” you stammered. “I didn’t realize-”

“I do hope you aren’t going to apologize for reacting to the given situation, my dear,” Alastor said as he tilted his head at you. He sounded, much to your surprise, mildly annoyed.

You froze. “Are you mad at me?”

A flash of irritation appeared in the Overlord’s eyes as his teeth gleamed. “We’ve now spent a notable amount of time together. I do hope you know me a bit better than that.” His voice held a note of challenge.

You sniffed and brought your knees to your chest once again without a response.

Alastor’s eyes softened and his smile eased at the sight of your trembling form. He sighed, the sound revealing an internal exhaustion that he would never admit to out loud. “I assure you, mon chere, my anger does not lie with you.”

You nodded, looking away.

Silence. Deep silence.

But you couldn’t avoid the upcoming conversation forever.

“People have seen us together, Al,” you finally said, your throat raw. You looked up at him. “People who want to take your power.”

You didn’t miss the way the demon’s smile tensed.

“I won’t be the reason that you lose everything you’ve built so far,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “You deserve more than what I can give you.”

Alastor stood abruptly, climbing gracefully to his feet before offering you one of his clawed hands and pulling you up beside him.

He released you and grasped your chin in between his fingers, tilting your head up to face him.

“Any demon who hopes to steal my power is going to find themselves sorely disappointed, my dear, regardless of whether or not your presence is noticed.” His eyes hardened. “I am more than capable of holding on to what I’ve gained.”

“You couldn’t sense Mimzy,” you blurted, regretting the words as they left your lips, but unable to stop them. “You didn’t realize she was there until-” you swallowed. “What if it happens again, but this time they come for you?” You hated how desperate you sounded. “What if they hurt you, Al?”

The Overlord tilted his head. His smile twitched and his grip only strengthened as he looked down at you with something resembling regret. “I do admit that both myself and my shadow were a bit distracted during its visit, and I do apologize for not preventing this whole ordeal before it ever began.”

“That’s not what I meant-” you started weakly.

Alastor’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Though I can promise you that such a thing will never happen again, mon chere. Not while I still stand.”

You didn’t respond. Not because you doubted his ability to take care of you, of course. But because you didn’t want this added responsibility to prevent him from taking care of himself.

“I do hope,” the demon continued, the static in his voice suddenly disappearing as he searched your gaze. “That you haven’t finally begun to doubt me.”

You shook your head as well as you were able to with his fingers still clutching your jaw. “No,” you whispered. “Never.”

And in a rare display of courage, you reached out, placing your hands gently on either side of the Radio Demon’s face as he released your jaw. You pulled him down until your foreheads met. “Never,” you repeated, your voice firm. “And if you really aren’t worried, and you want me to stay, then I will.” You pulled back to look into his eyes. “I’ll stay with you. Always.”

Alastor’s hands reached up and settled on top of yours as his eyes bore into you. “That’s quite the commitment, my dear,” he said. There was something strange in his voice, something that sounded almost like uncertainty, almost like tension, almost like fear.

Your grip on his face tightened as you looked up at him. “I mean it, Al. I’ll stay with you, if you’ll have me. If you’re sure.”

Now, there were a great many things that Alastor would never do. He’d never make a deal that he wasn’t in control of. He’d never submit to the Vees. He’d never tell Charlie the real reason that he was in her hotel.

He’d never tell you that he loved you.

But, he found as he stared into your eyes, he would absolutely give up everything that he’d ever built if it meant that he got to keep you.

“I don’t intend to lose anything, my dear. Least of all you.”

You blushed, maintaining eye contact as a gentle smile took the place of your previous frown.

Alastor leaned forward. You followed his lead, expecting to press your forehead to his, when he surprised you by placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

You pulled back and smiled up at him before pulling him down to place your own kiss on his cheek.

Maybe Mimzy was right. Maybe you were something of a danger to the Radio Demon. But you’d be double-damned if you were going to give up on him so easily.

“Now,” Alastor said, his eyes flashing dangerously as he released you and stepped back. His shadow surged forward, returning Alastor’s staff to its rightful owner and standing behind its master with a chilling grin.

Alastor faced you, his smile gentle and his eyes hard as the static returned to his voice with full force. “Would you care to give me the name of the foolish soul who tried to harm what was mine?”

~~~

Nobody had seen or heard from Mimzy in days.

Three new screams had joined the Radio Demon’s broadcast.

You’d been too afraid to leave the hotel for a few days.

Alastor had begun checking your room every night before leaving you alone.

Nobody else at the hotel knew what had happened to you. Not even Angel and Husk.

You gained back your courage in the following weeks with help from Alastor.

The two of you had grown closer than ever.

Nobody had seen or heard from Mimzy in weeks.

~~~

You leaned back against your bed’s headboard, watching as Alastor had his shadow sweep through your room once again.

“I’m fine, Al,” you said, trying to contain your laughter. “Really. Nobody else is going to get in. There’s locks on the windows, and your room is close enough to be able to hear if something goes wrong.”

Alastor hummed in acknowledgement, though his eyes continued to roam around your room until he was satisfied.

He turned to you with a grin. “I’m only protecting what is mine, mon cœur.” He turned to your door, walking away from you with his shadow following close behind. “I do expect to see you bright and early in the morning for a short stroll.”

It was your turn to hum in agreement.

You were more than thrilled with the offer, of course, but you felt a sense of unease that threatened to keep you up all night. You didn’t doubt Alastor’s abilities, of course, but you worried about what might happen to him if he was attacked while he was momentarily distracted with keeping you safe.

Alastor’s hand reached towards your doorknob. “I bid you a good night, my dear.”

“Will you stay with me tonight?” you blurted before you could lose your courage.

Alastor froze in place, his hand hovering. His shadow, however, was much more reactive. It leapt up in excitement and made its way back over to your bed, jumping in beside you and nuzzling its head against your cheek.

You giggled and pulled away, allowing the shadow to slowly run a clawed hand from the base of your throat up to your chin before looking back over at its owner.

He had turned to look at you, a fond expression on his face as he watched the interaction.

“Only if you want to, of course,” you said hurriedly as your smile began to slip. “I don’t mean to pressure you.”

Alastor waved a hand dismissively before he made his way over to you. “You couldn’t pressure me if you tried, my dear.”

Your heart soared as you moved over, giving him enough room to not have to even brush against you during the night.

The Overlord climbed into your bed easily, settling against your headboard before looking down at you with a raised eyebrow. “I do hope you weren’t expecting me to sleep.”

You smiled. “Not at all.” You began to shuffle around to get comfortable and to avoid looking into his eyes when you said, “I just feel safer when you’re here, that’s all.”

The last words of your sentence had hardly left your lips before Alastor’s shadow finally moved from its place on your other side. You laughed as it nudged you over before wrapping its arms around you and pulling your back to its chest, giving you a sense of security that you had never found with anyone else.

You closed your eyes and nuzzled in, allowing yourself to be swept away in a wave of comfort and exhaustion. “Goodnight, Al,” you murmured as you drifted away. “Thank you. For everything.”

You fell asleep before you could hear his response.

So you didn’t see his eyes soften. You didn’t see him reach out and grasp one of your hands in his own. You didn’t see him lean down and press a soft kiss to your temple. You didn’t hear his last words before he began to doze as well.

“Thank you, mon cœur.”

Part 5 Here!

A/N 2: I really hope you guys enjoyed this one!! This is an ongoing series, so let me know if you’d like to be tagged!

I’d also like to continue writing for Hazbin Hotel, so send me requests and let me know if you’d like to be tagged in any those as well :))

Taglist: @severusminerva @anh4125 @midorichoco @rapturenyx @maybememoriesx @martinys-world @axellovesalastor @mo-0-o @looking1016 @saturn-alone @sirens-and-moonflowers

423 notes · View notes

ncityprincess · 3 months ago

Text

Forever Home 🏠

Smut | MDNI

WC: 2.7K+

Plot: Long-term couple Johnny and Y/N share a delicious dinner and reminisce about all the good times they’ve shared in their soon-to-be old apartment.

*This couple is from the same universe as Nighttime Routine, the Big three-oh, and the Dad Johnny series so feel free to read those too, but they’re not required reading 🙂‍↔️*

Mentions: dirty talk, oral fixation, breeding kink, strength kink, size kink (come on it’s Johnny)

“Woah!”

Your fiancé did a little happy dance as he tasted the chicken he’d been working on for the past 20 minutes. Tonight, you two were trying a new chicken thigh recipe, and judging by the tall man’s enthusiasm, it was a hit.

“It’s good huh,” You teased, glancing up from your salad prep.

“Here, come try.” Johnny speared a piece of chicken on his fork, blowing away the steam. You paused, eager for a taste test, and bounced over, always up for sampling his cooking.

You savored the perfectly seasoned bite. “Mmm…” you hummed, delighted. The chicken was juicy, and tender, with just the right kick of spice. “Oh my God, this Harissa seasoning? Definitely staying in the rotation.”

Johnny grinned, nodding in agreement as he turned off the stove and started plating the food. Meanwhile, you resumed tossing the salad, whisking together a quick homemade dressing.

Peaceful moments like these made you appreciate the relationship you and Johnny had cultivated. It was the mundane, casual moments that truly warmed your heart the most. Not needing to fill silence with fluff and noise—just enjoying the comfort of each other's presence.

“Red or white tonight, my love,” Johnny asked, interrupting your quiet thoughts.

“Mm, let’s do red tonight.”

After the table was set and you both had everything you needed, you finally sat down to dig in. The two of you engaged in some light conversation, gushing over how good the meal turned out, as well as what types of things you both got up to at work.

“I only had one client call today, so luckily I was finally able to finish cleaning out the hall closet. Thank God for remote work, one less thing we have to do this month.”

“Wooo, you rock babe thank you. That project took way longer than it needed to. How can two people rack up so much junk,” Johnny laughed before taking a bite of salad.

“Well, we had our suitcases, old college junk, your skateboard, my yoga mat, your endless supply of nerdy tech stuff, my totally not out of control shoe collection…We had our whole lives in that closet babe. That, and we’ve already lived in this building for six years. That’s a lot of time to collect a bunch of junk.”

“Well, I for one very much enjoyed accumulating all that junk with you, m’lady. And I can’t wait to collect even more junk with you in our new place.” Johnny punctuated his statement with a heaping bite of chicken.

You shook your head at his silliness. “Wow, how romantic honey. But I’m honestly so ready for our forever home. This market is so volatile,” you pouted. Johnny looked at you with warm eyes, wanting to kiss the pout right off your face…

You both had been house hunting for a lot longer than you had anticipated. Turns out, buying a house wasn’t as simple as they made it seem on HGTV. It wasn’t a straightforward choice between three gorgeous homes, it was sifting through piles of renovation nightmares and out-of-budget fantasies.

Each house was either too small, too outdated, didn’t have enough character, or had too many zeros attached to the price tag. Each viewing left you more disappointed than the last. Johnny, ever the optimist, always assured you that the right one would come along eventually. “What’s meant for us can’t skip us, baby.”

After dinner, you continued your normal routine of washing the dishes and putting the leftovers away. The faint smell of chicken and spices lightly lingered in the air. The calming energy of the kitchen filled you with a sense of peace.

“Oh, by the way, I picked up a little something from your favorite bakery on the way home. Check the fridge.” Johnny nodded toward the refrigerator before sitting back down. Even though your tummy was stuffed, your ears perked up at the thought of your favorite treat patiently waiting for you.

Johnny smiled fondly at the way you skipped toward the fridge and all but broke the door off its hinges to retrieve the dessert. You grabbed two spoons and plopped down onto Johnny’s empty lap. His strong hands moved to massage your hips and upper thighs while you opened the pink dessert box, eager to dig in.

But to your surprise and mild disappointment, it wasn't your delicious strawberry cheesecake, but instead, a silver key that you had never seen before. The key sparkled beautifully under the overhead light.

You stared at the box dumbfounded, turning to look at Johnny. His eyes held lighthearted mischief and he chuckled yet again, placing a soft kiss on top of your head.

“Do you know what this is?” He asked gently against your ear.

“…not my favorite strawberry cheesecake in the whole wide world?”

“Remember the place we looked at a few weeks back? The one we had our hearts set on, but another family placed a higher bid? Turns out their offer fell through. The house is ours, baby. We move in at the end of the month.”

The realization finally hit and you squealed, wrapping your arms around your lover’s neck. “You mean the one with the gorgeous sunroom and the little koi fish pond!?”

Johnny squeezed your hip. “Uh-huh, that’s the one. The one with just enough space to get started on that family we’ve always wanted. It all worked out perfectly baby.”

“Oh honey, I love you so much. Thank you! I can’t believe we’re gonna be homeowners!” You peppered a million smooches all over Johnny’s face, overcome with the joy of what the next chapter will bring.

“I love you. I’m so lucky to be able to experience this moment with you.”

You nuzzled yourself deeper into Johnny, suddenly feeling sentimental. “We’ve shared so many memories in this little apartment. It’s kind of bittersweet to be leaving”

“Yeah, we sure have…remember the time you flooded the bathroom. Maintenance was pisssssed,” Johnny teased.

You gasped and lightly pressed your pointer finger into his chest. “Well, do you remember the time you burned our Thanksgiving turkey?! We had to leave our windows open in the dead of winter to air out the smoke,” you teased right back.

“How could I forget, my mom never lets me live that one down.” You laughed and ran your hands through his silky strands absentmindedly.

“Remember when we got that terrible snowstorm that knocked the power out of the whole city? We were snowed in for days, and had to snuggle for warmth.”

“Goodness, I swore my fingers and toes were going to fall off,” you reminisced with a light laugh. “The electric bill was cheaper that month, but at what cost?”

You both chuckled at the memory, the glow of shared experience warming the space between you. The room fell into a comfortable silence, broken only by the soft hum of the dishwasher.

Johnny’s gaze lingered on you, a quiet contentment settling over him. The longer he sat there, the more he became aware of how warm your body felt pressed against his. The memory of huddling for warmth now had a different meaning — not out of necessity, but out of comfort. He liked the way you instinctively nuzzled into him every so often, your soft curves fitting perfectly against his body.

His fingers traced idle patterns along your side, as though savoring the present moment. You felt the subtle shift in his energy, his touch growing more intentional, lingering.

“What kind of memories do you wanna make in the new house baby?”

Something about the way the tone of his voice hit your most sensitive parts lets you know that the energy of the moment was about to shift.

“Hm,” you pondered, letting the statement linger in the air.

Johnny wasted no time letting you know where his mind was at. “Because I think I wanna make some really dirty memories in our new bedroom. What do you think?” His hand slid up the front of your soft stomach, making you squirm.

“I guess we could make that happen. But who says we have to wait till we get to the new house?”

Johnny looked down at you pleasantly stunned, while your eyes held sensual mischief.

“Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be, huh Missy? You gonna be my bold girl tonight?”

You answered his question with a kiss on his pillowy lips, letting out a gentle moan when he pressed his tongue against yours. Johnny deepened the kiss and placed a strong hand on the back of your neck. You fought the urge to get on your knees right under the dinner table and get to work.

“Baby. Take me. To bed,” you breathed out in between kisses. Those were the magic words Johnny needed to hear.

“Say less.”

Johnny pushed the chair back and gathered you into his arms, making a beeline for the bedroom. You squealed as he tossed you back onto the bed, taking your breath away in the best way possible.

You gathered your bearings and flipped onto your hands and knees, crawling to where Johnny stood at the foot of the bed. You pawed at his sweatpants, silently gesturing him to pull them down and reveal himself to you. He smirked down at you and gladly fulfilled your request.

“You gonna suck me off real good baby? Huh?” You nodded and took his half-erect member into your hands. You began to stroke him slowly, closing your eyes in pleasure when he let out a guttural groan. Johnny gently rocked his hips against your hand a few times, throwing his head back in relief.

Your hand roamed along the length of his cock, and you admired how warm and muscular it felt against your hand. Your mouth watered at the thought of feeling the heaviness of him against your tongue.

You couldn’t wait any longer and bent forward to take Johnny into your mouth. “F-uck baby that’s it,” he stuttered out. His affirming words encouraged you to give him the best head you could muster at the moment.

You let your tongue swirl around his tip for a few more moments before taking a deep breath through your nose. You took his length deeper into your throat, the action making you gag and produce little messy slivers of saliva. Johnny bit down on his bottom lip and gently pet the top of your head as if to say, good girl.

It brought you so much pleasure to satisfy your man like this. He always poured so much love and attention into you, and this was one of your favorite ways to pour it back into him. Each of his grunts and groans filled you up with exhilarating pride.

You wrapped your fist around the bottom of his shaft while you let your mouth do the rest of the work, suctioning and brushing your lips against him. Your back was fully arched, and you swore you were getting more wet by the minute…

Johnny took one last look into your wide, lust-filled eyes that were silently begging for more praise. His hips stuttered insatiably, then he pulled out of your mouth completely. Entranced and reeling, you sat back onto your heels and pouted up at him. Already fucked out and needy.

“Don’t look at me like that. You were gonna make me blow, woman.”

“Yeah well that was kinda the point, buddy.” You wiped the residual saliva and salty precum from your lips breathlessly, proud of your literal handiwork.

“Calling me buddy while my dick is out is crazy.”

“Ok John, just fuck me already please, and thank you,” you whined, growing uncomfortable at the way your panties stuck to your dripping pussy.

Johnny grinned, stepping out of his sweatpants completely and tossing his shirt over his head. “That can be arranged.”

Johnny grabbed your ankle and yanked you closer to him, peeling your tiny pajama set and panties off. You lay underneath his looming figure, feeling submissive and completely at home all at the same time.

This was the man you were going to spend the rest of forever with.

“Whatcha thinkin’ ‘bout, pretty girl?” Johnny slowly parted your thighs, bringing you back into the moment.

“How much I love doing life with you,” you answered sincerely.

Johnny’s heart swelled, and he pressed an affectionate kiss against the arch of your foot. He took his throbbing length in his hand and slid it against your slippery folds. You let out a soft sigh, bucking your hips greedily. Your body was more than ready to take him in.

He finally slipped into you, letting his jaw drop in sweet relief. “Agh, fuckin’ love you so much, babe. You don’t even know.”

“I do,” you quipped, wrapping your legs around his midsection. You arched your pelvis up against his, letting him get as deep inside you as possible.

“Do you though,” Johnny teased, building up a nice steady rhythm. He loved the way your needy hands traveled up the front of your body to grab onto your bouncing boobs.

“Mmm, I think I’ve got a pretty good idea,” you moaned with a twinkle in your eye, enjoying the way his tip kissed your walls. Johnny shoved your hot body down onto his dick with each harsh thrust.

You always loved how athletic and strong Johnny was. He never made a big deal about it, but his natural athleticism always came out in the bedroom. He was so sweet and gentle with you normally, but you loved being tossed into whatever position and going along for the ride.

Johnny gently caressed your cheek, admiring your gorgeous, flushed face and the way it displayed a look of pleasure. The small, but romantic gesture juxtaposed the way his hips crashed into yours.

Something indescribable washed over you as Johnny brushed his thumb against your soft lips. You were overcome with erotic feelings and eagerly took the thick digit into your mouth, closing your eyes and savoring the taste.

You held onto his wrist with both hands as you moaned around his thumb, letting your tongue swirl around it like you did with his cock earlier.

Johnny thought you looked picturesque like this. He didn’t know how he got blessed with someone as gorgeous as you, but he thanked every single higher power known to man.

He silently wished he could capture this beautiful moment with his film camera, but nothing could ever truly capture how stunning you were like his own two eyes. You looked up at him with a half-lidded gaze, the seductive look making him slightly falter inside of you.

“My pretty baby, always such a good girl. Isn’t that right?”

Your eyes fluttered shut as you moaned out in agreement. He made it so easy to be a good girl for him. He gave you everything you wanted and always spoke to you so gently…

“That’s the first thing I wanna do when we move to the new house you know? Wanna fuck you nice and deep. Just like this. Do you want that too?”

Your grip on his hand tightened as your jaw went slack, moaning out a whiny “yes.”

“Wouldn’t it be kind of crazy if I got you pregnant the first night we moved in? Fuck—“ Johnny groaned before taking a strong hold on your hips, picking up the pace to send you both over the edge.

Your breathy moans picked up in time with each harsh snap of Johnny’s hips. “Fuck baby I’m right there,” you moaned desperately, digging your heels into his toned back.

“What do you think will come first: the wedding or the baby? Guess we’ll find out won’t we?”

You were still very much on the pill, both of you agreeing to stay semi-safe until the wedding day. But the sexiness of the fantasy and the way Johnny was talking had you ready to go to the courthouse tomorrow morning.

Johnny slipped his hand in between your bodies to play with your clit, making you finally tip over the edge. You let out the prettiest sounds as you let go, and moments later you heard Johnny let out some deep sounds of his own.

Johnny pulled out and grunted as he tugged his dick a few more times, sprinkling milky droplets of cum onto your lower tummy. You both caught your breath and came back down to earth. The hot, steamy atmosphere of the room felt like warm satisfaction on your skin.

You looked down at the residual product of your love on your stomach and scooped some of the liquid onto your pointer finger and into your mouth. Johnny caught the dirty action and groaned, exhausted but still so turned on by you.

“Jeez, babe what’s with all this finger stuff today? You’re killing me.”

You giggled and shrugged, showing off the finger you just licked clean. “You deprived me of my strawberry cheesecake, I needed something sweet. What’s a girl to do?”

A look of remembrance flashed over Johnny’s face and he suddenly sprang out of bed, naked as the day he was born.

“What are you doing, weirdo,” you exclaimed and plopped back against the pillows. You heard faint movements coming from the kitchen, followed by quick footsteps coming back to the bedroom. Johnny emerged from the kitchen with one of your Tupperware containers and two spoons. He jumped in bed next to you and opened the container.

Your beautiful strawberry cheesecake was staring back at you in all of its deliciousness.

The end 💋

205 notes · View notes

immortalmrwavell · 3 months ago

Text

Sam’s Choice - The Yellow Box

(Original story posted December 7th 2021) Minor corrections and Updates!

Make sure to read ➡️ The Prologue ⬅️ first!

Sam’s gaze darted between the three boxes. Weirdly this felt like one of the biggest choices of his life. Simply picking a box. And yet it probably was since his life could take a very different turn depending on which box he chooses.

It took some time for him to finally come to a decision. Wavell was surprisingly patient though, sitting back in an armchair as he watched Sam struggle. But eventually after taking a long deep breath, he grabbed one of the three boxes. “This one.” he said as held up none other than the *yellow* box.

“Alrighty then. Yellow it is.” Looking satisfied, Wavell snapped his finger with a glow once more causing the remaining two boxes to vanish in a puff of smoke. “Now. Usually I tend to stick around for the next part… but I think I’ll give you some privacy for this. Besides, I can always use my *magic crystal ball* to rewatch what's about to happen.” Wavell laughed, waving his hands about.

Despite that, Sam couldn’t tell if Wavell was being serious about that or not. He only gulped as Wavell returned to his ghostly form before disappearing through the walls of the hotel. Finally leaving Sam alone with the yellow box.

He sat back down on the bed, resting the box on his lap before gently gripping the underside of the lid. There was a pounding sensation in his chest that felt like a mix of both excitement and anxiety as he slowly but surely pulled off the lid.

Setting the lid down beside him Sam looked in the box to see a pair of dirty brown work boots. Stuffed inside each boot was a thick white woollen sock to match them. Immediately Sam could tell that they were well used. All the scuffs and dirt marks on the boots made that much obvious.

Sam pulled out one of the boots to inspect it a little closer. He turned it around, getting a good look at the size and shape of the boot. It was definitely a fair bit bigger than the shoes he’d usually buy. But more notable was the amount of dirt it was also caked in. Especially underneath. This in mind Sam had to guess they were the boots of a tradie worker of some description. Or even a lumberjack perhaps? Just the mere idea of that was getting him excited as he imagined the type of body a man who wore these boots would have. Most of the tradie’s and lumberjacks he’d seen were big strong manly men. Ones with thick muscular bodies and bucket loads of testosterone. The thought of becoming one sounded beyond delightful.

As he continued to fantasise about what the owner of the boots looked like, Sam was quick to remember that said owner was with him right now! In the form of these very boots!

“Damn I hope you’re one of the big guys.” Sam grinning at the inanimate boot before sticking his hand inside and pulling out one of the thick wool socks. It was damp and stained with sweat. Pressing the sock to his nose, Sam inhaled what could only be described as the powerful musky scent of a real working man. All that sweat and stench trapped in the thickness of those white socks, causing them to yellow slightly. They emitted an aroma that was practically irresistible to a guy like Sam. He had his nose buried in that woollen sock for a good couple minutes before coming up for air. “Ahhhhhhhhh…” Sam hummed. “Smells like a hard day's work.”

Of course he couldn’t help but shove his nose inside the boots as well. Much to his joy they smelt just as deliciously musky as the sock did. Brimming with man smell. It made his cock swell even harder as he thought about some tradie guy being trapped in the form of his own smelly work boots. Unable to speak or fight back as Sam smelled them.

Before he knew it Sam was already ripping off his own socks and shoes. Tossing them aside with excitement before grabbing both of the thick wool socks. Sam couldn’t help but shudder in pleasure as he slid his feet into the worn yellowed socks. The cold sweat trapped inside the socks doused his feet in their smell. Not only did he love knowing that his feet were being enveloped by a real man's sweat but the socks were actually super comfortable as well! Win win!

Next was the boots. Sam took far too much delight in shoving his socked feet inside the damp boots and allowing them to become even more consumed by the musk. It was bone chilling in the most erotic way possible. As soon as they were on, Sam stood up from the bed and looked down at the work boots he now adorned, wriggling his feet inside with excitement and anticipation.

And then finally it started.

A tornado of magic began to surge and spin around Sam, blurring his vision of the hotel room. Before he had time to panic or do anything however, he doubled over in discomfort and rising tension as the most bizarre sensation overtook his body. Sam squeezed his eyes shut as the feeling flooded every nerve. He could feel something changing within him. His body was transforming itself dramatically but he could hardly open his eyes to see what was happening. A confusing mixture of pain and pleasure took over as everything about his appearance changed in order to transform him into a perfect visage of the man that once wore those dirty work boots. Even his clothes seemed to change!

After what felt like an eternity, the transformation began slow as it reached completion. The whirlwind of magical energy started to dissipate just as Sam opened his eyes. Immediately he could tell he was no longer in the hotel. As the magic vanished completely,

Sam could see that he was now standing in what seemed to be a small bathroom. He didn’t get much of a chance to look around however as right in front of Sam was a mirror and the man looking back at him certainly wasn’t the same man he’d been a few moments ago.

Instead of the hairless twinkish face he’d been used to seeing all his life, he saw the face of an older rugged looking man. He looked to be in his early 30’s with a few subtle lines etched into his skin, foreshadowing the wrinkles to come. His face was large and square, his features tough and angular. A thick dark beard covering his jaw, the likes of which Sam had never dreamed of being able to grow. Not to mention those dark masculine eyes that could send shivers down your spine.

Sam was swift to notice the clothes he was wearing too. Or rather the lack of clothes. He was practically naked besides the boots and socks, a trucker hat sat firmly on his head and tight white jockstrap that did well to show off his now hefty package. The lack of clothes wasn't his main concern however. Rather it was the fact that he’d gone from being a twink to a big hairy bear!

Sam almost couldn’t believe his eyes as his huge meaty hands wandered down his body. His pecs were so huge and meaty that he couldn’t help groping them and teasing his nipples. His stomach thick and strong while pushing slightly over the waistband jockstrap with the excess pudge. And of course he’d be insane if he didn’t appreciate the incredible fur covering it all. Gently rubbing his fingers through the dense coating of manly body hair that graced his masculine form.

“Fuuuuuck yesssss…” Sam grunted. “I feel so… meaty.” He mumbled in a very husky baritone voice as he groped at his pecs some more, enjoying the mix of fat and muscle that made up his burly frame.

After that his attention slowly drifted towards his arms. First giving them a squeeze before bringing them up into a double bicep pose. Just seeing those massive balls of muscle flex was enough to get Sam’s new cock to strain against the pouch of his new jockstrap. He loved just how huge they were and how strong his arms felt. It could’ve just been the testosterone flooding through him but he found himself wanting to pick up the heaviest weights he could find and start testing his strength. Or better yet to do it at a gym where he could show off how powerful he was!

Sam took a few more moments to admire his arms, squeezing the bulky muscle before giving his new face and beard a little attention. He loved the feeling of finally having a full beard after having never been able to grow one himself. His former genetics had pretty much screwed him when it came to masculine traits like that. But now? He had a beard most men would be jealous of! He made sure to admire it before inspecting his new facial features. Before Sam had always looked very young and boyish despite being in his late 20’s. But this new face was the complete opposite of that. Now had the face of a mature blue collar bear that would linger in the wet dreams of almost any gay man that laid eyes upon him.

Eventually Sam ended up turning his backside to the mirror. Thanks to the jockstrap he was wearing he got a nice full view of his huge new bear butt. He groped his cheeks a little, enjoying both their juicy thickness and the layer of fur covering them. In all the excitement Sam’s new cock began to leak precum into his jockstrap. Noticing this he started to rub and feel his cock through the pouch. It felt about average length but the girth was something else. It really was a beer can cock!! Fitting for a bear like himself

Sam cupped and jiggled his furry ass a little more before returning his left hand to admire his chest once again. Meanwhile his right hand continued stroking and tugging on his erection through the jockstrap, his left hand couldn’t help but cup and grope his pecs some more. He didn’t even get to pull his cock out of its pouch the moment he started pinching his nipples again, a deep groan to escape his bearded lips. An intense shock of bliss and pleasure flooded Sam’s groin in a tidal wave ecstasy. His cock and balls were consumed by the feeling, allowing for the most incredible sensation to sweep through his body. Sam was unable to stop himself as he let out another moan, this one sounding closer to a primal roar, before shooting a fat load and soaking the front of his jockstrap. That was the trigger for the memories.

Suddenly Sam’s mind was barraged with the memories belonging to the man he’d become. His new name was Eric Harbour and, just as he’d thought, he worked in construction. A bricklayer in fact. Following this he was hit with memories of all the people in this man’s life. Family, friends but most importantly co-workers. It seemed that Eric was already gay and was very open about it. So open in-fact that he’d gone ahead and fucked a handful of his fellow bricklayer mates. Even more surprising was that he almost exclusively bottomed. Sometimes even on the construction sites. A ballsy move that’s for sure. Also goes to show you can’t judge a book by its cover.

Once the memory wave had subsided, Sam then remembered where the real Eric was as he looked down at the scruffy brown boots he was wearing. Reaching down, Sam pulled a boot off and gave it another sniff. Just knowing that the smell radiating from it was now his own was already making his cum coated cock start to chub up again.

“Your body is everything I ever could have wished for Eric.” Sam stated as he flexed one of his thick biceps once again. “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life being a hot daddy bear and you’ll get to watch me live that dream while being filled by your own smelly feet.” He taunted with a twisted grin. “Don’t worry I’ll try to wear you as often as possible.” Sam teased maliciously before shoving the boot back over his sweaty socked foot.

Sam then grabbed Eric’s phone that had been sitting beside the sink and began snapping some photos of his hot new body. He even took a video of himself flexing and feeling himself up. Partially for his own pleasure of course. But also because just before the real Eric had been turned into his boots by Wavell, he’d been sending photos to one of his bricklayer buddies that he planned on getting fucked by. He took a lot of pleasure in worshiping himself and taking plenty of ass pics just to get the perfect ones for the hung hairy otter he was sending them to.

———

When the real Eric was first transformed, he was terrified. One moment he was standing in his bathroom wearing almost nothing but a jockstrap. He’d been getting ready to take some photos for one of work buddies but the next minute he was on his bathroom floor and someone seeing from two different perspectives at once. All he could do was smell the familiar musky oder of his own socks and boots.

He was completely helpless. Unable to scream or beg as a strange middle aged looking man picked him up and put him inside a yellow box. After that the next thing he knew he was being pulled out of said box by another unfamiliar man.

It didn’t take long for him to figure out he’d been transformed into the very boots he’d been wearing. Yet when that realisation hit him, Eric was scared beyond belief! Not being able to help wondering how the hell that was even possible!? But deep down something about it seemed kinda hot… as wrong as that sounded.

What came after that however was almost even more unbelievable. This unfamiliar man actually put Eric’s two boot bodies on his feet and once that was done the whole world spun around them. Moments later Eric was suddenly looking up at his own damn body! After that it didn’t take long for him to figure out this man had just just stolen his body and identity by wearing him! And now he was excitedly feeling up Eric’s former body!!

Eric was surprised at how quick this imposter unloaded his cum. It seemed like he was even surprised by the look on his stolen face. After that though the imposter was different. It almost seemed like him cumming had unlocked something. Eric didn’t have much time to figure that out though as moments after this, his imposter pulled off one of Eric's boot bodies and brought it up for a sniff. It was by far the most bizarre thing Eric had ever experienced. Seeing his own face pressing inside him and sniffing deep. He should’ve hated it but for some strange reason he kinda enjoyed it when his own stolen body started inhaling his musk from Eric’s boot body.

The body snatcher told Eric that he would enjoy his new body and that Eric would spend the rest of his existence serving his old body as its smelly work boots. Once again Eric knew he should’ve been angry about this as his boot body slipped back on his old smelly foot but… he wasn’t. Somehow the idea of spending his life as a smelly boot slave to his former body and getting to smell his own sweaty stench almost everyday sounded weirdly enticing to him. He was actually sort of grateful when his new owner told him that he’d try to wear him as often as possible. Like it was some sort of blessing.

———

Several weeks had passed since Sam took over Eric’s life and he’d slotted into the role perfectly. He didn’t know if it was something about Eric’s body or not but he somehow just fell in love with being a bricklayer. Perhaps it was all the other sweaty men he got to surround himself with on a daily basis.

On that note Wavell had eventually decided to check in on Sam to see how he was settling in. He floated into Eric’s (Sam’s) new apartment to find that he most definitely seemed to be making the most of his new body. The new Eric was on all fours on his bed displaying his huge furry ass to the same hairy otter that he’d been messaging the day he became Eric.

Wavell watched curiously as the smaller bearded man, who’s name was Dan, groped his ass and devoured Eric’s hole hungrily, Eric groaning in satisfaction the entire time. Just then Wavell noticed the pair of boots containing the real Eric’s soul placed nearby the bed with a perfect view. Wavell chuckled to himself as he could sense just how much the original Eric was enjoying watching his old body get his ass eaten. Not to mention that, unlike most inanimate slaves, he’d seemingly given little to no resistance when accepting his new role. Almost like he wanted it from the start.

And so with that the mysterious man figured that his work here was most definitely a success. However Wavell didn’t want to leave just yet as it looked like things were about to heat up as Dan started lubing up his cock and fingering the new Eric’s hole. Moments after the otter plunged his cock inside Eric’s warm welcoming hole, earning him a mighty moan in response. As he watched, Wavell began to feel a tightening in his own pants. He might’ve been a powerful warlock but he was still part human after all. And this was *hot*.

He stayed just long enough to watch Dan dump his load inside Eric, leaving Eric panting face down on the bed with a dumb grin on his face. Dan laid down on top of the bear, completely oblivious to the fact that it was a completely different man inhabiting Eric’s body. Not that it mattered since Sam would never be leaving. He was Eric now. For good.

Wavell saw the two of them share a passionate kiss and took that as his sign to leave them be for now. His work here was done.

#mr wavell #male body swap #male body theft #male tf #male transformation #hairy #identity theft #male musk #magic #bear #twink to bear #twink to bear tf #male muscle growth #male muscle theft #weight gain #blue collar tf #tradie tf

172 notes · View notes

arminsumi · 1 year ago

Text

it's the hair.

𝐆. 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 — 五条悟 ⋅ fem reader

NOTE: lol this is just a dum fluff drabble i wrote instead of studying

SUMMARY — your childhood friend and classmate satoru positively kills you with his new haircut. but he misunderstands your reactions and behaviors, thinking he did something wrong.

WARNINGS — lowercase used, not proofread, misunderstandings between u n gojo, angst if you squint ??

WORDCOUNT ≈ 1.3k

🍒 𝐉𝐚𝐲 — サクランボ ⋅ 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 !

you've been eyeing out gojo all day. he's not sure what to make of your expression — it's something mixed between comical worry and genuine distress.

"what? what is it?" he keeps asking you each time you give him the side eye look-over. "do i have something on my face?"

"no. it's nothing." you reply curtly.

he squints skeptically at you.

from class to class, he ponders alongside suguru. did he say something? were you mad at him? was it because he stole your soda from the vending machine yesterday? but he always does that, so why would you be mad now? maybe you were just not feeling well? did you not sleep well?

and suguru's ears flooded with all these theories.

"did i say something to y/n? she's acting strange today."

his best friend stifles a smirk. "dunno, did you?"

"i think she's mad at me. was it because i stole her soda? but y'know it's not my fault we like the same soda! and i promised to buy one for her next time!"

suguru now lowers his head into his arms, resting on the desk, trying so hard to keep his laughter in.

"maybe it's the weather — probably the flu — yeah, definitely the flu. i'll go get something for y/n at the store, d'you need anything, suguru? what! what are you laughing at!"

"nothing, nothing. i don't need anything from the store, thanks — unless maybe something spicy that catches your eye. 'better run quick, store's gonna close soon."

satoru furrows his brows in confusion, and eventually his entire expression becomes serious, like an old philosopher in deep thought about the universe. but it's not the abyssal void beyond the stratosphere that's in his thoughts, no, it's you — you're pervading his entire mind as he walks across the roads of tokyo, to the station, and boards the train.

holding onto the handles as it shudders and sways, shoulders taught as they always are when he's in thought. were you really sick? what if he did something bad? maybe it was nothing at all, and he was just overthinking it. maybe it didn't even involve him. did it have to do with suguru? or perhaps you were upset about something in the past, something irrational and long-forgotten, like the fact that he didn't attend your 7th birthday party. it's not like he had a choice, his parents barely allowed him to visit your side because they didn't want their prodigy son hanging out with...

he texts you.

satoru — are u home yet

he stares and waits for you to come online, then watches as those three dots move up and down and you start typing.

you — no why

satoru — where are u

you — bridge

satoru — what are u doing

you — lol so many questions

you — the sunset looks rlly good today i'm taking pics

satoru — wtf without me??

you — lol sorry didn't think u wanted to waste ur time watching the sunset

satoru — see u there

he's just boarding off the train, coming through its doors, when he texts you that. thank the benefit of his long legs for speeding to the store in time before it closes. he picks up your favorite.

when you see him come into view, you're waiting with your arms draped around the railing of the bridge.

"trying out for the track team?" you laugh, as he practically runs up to you. "did you run this whole way?"

he's catching his breath, clutching a plastic bag of goodies.

"are you sick?" he asks.

"what? no?"

"i thought you might have the flu." he's asking with genuine concern, it's bizarre. he usually doesn't talk like this unless he knows he's in trouble with you, or if something's really wrong.

"i'm fine." you blink, "i've just been watching the sunset. you missed the best part."

"i didn't know you enjoyed sunsets."

"why didn't you invite me!" he groans, coming over to assume an oddly attractive position by the railing. he slacks against the metal, leaning his weight on it. he lets the plastic bag with yours and suguru's favorites in it thud to the ground.

the cityscape is so pretty, and yet he's still prettier, you think.

"i don't care for them." he admits, "but of course i'll enjoy a sunset if you're watching it with me."

you look at him. he's not even facing the sunset. was something on his mind? you can hardly theorize, because you're giving him that peculiar look again.

he catches you looking at him, "what!"

"what?"

"did i do something wrong?" his breath is stable now, "are you mad at me?"

"no? why d'you think I'm mad at you?" you ask confusedly.

"because you keep lookin' at me like that!"

"like what?" you feel your cheeks warm up.

"like something about me is offensive to your eyes."

you break out laughing. "no! i'm not — it's not — you misunderstand me, like always..."

"what the hell?" he whines, "is it nothing serious? i've been worried. you've been looking at me weird since sunday and — oh... OH MY GOD."

you giggle, chin pressing on the railing. "did you just realize something?"

"is it the haircut!"

"it's the haircut."

"why do you not like it!" he fumes, that familiar satoru playfulness coming back now as he was put at ease knowing he didn't upset you. "you know it cost a lot, 'n i styled it and everything."

"i didn't say i didn't like it! it's the opposite."

"so you like it? then why do you look at me like you're having an internal crisis?"

you groan, "because you're giving me a crisis! you know i'm weak for undercuts!"

he shuts up. his heart races a bit. oh, so he misunderstood you not a little bit but entirely. oops. now why didn't he realize that his haircut would have this effect on you? when he subconsciously went to get an undercut because you mentioned you liked them in passing one school afternoon.

"oh."

"you're so dumb, satoru."

"well sorry!" he rolls his eyes.

now there's silence. he stops leaning his back against the railing and turns to face the final stages of the sunset. the streetlights come on, one is gleaming not too far from you two. it casts a dreamy light on his hair.

it really is a good cut, and it's styled in such a way that... well it gets your daydreams going, let's just say that. and here gojo was worried when he came out of the salon, thinking it was too short now. truthfully, it was a bit short compared to his other haircuts, but he wore it well. of course he did.

"so you like it?"

"i love it."

"well if you love it, then show it love." he teases.

"what on earth d'you mean?" you laugh shortly.

"fluff my hair." he says.

"no way, lice-boy."

"hey!" he pinches your cheek in retaliation, and your reaction endears him as much as it always has since you two were kids. "that was one time, i haven't ever had lice again."

he pouts. you look over. he is pouting. pouting. he's a nineteen year old boy pouting about not getting his hair fluffed by his childhood friend who he maybe sorta kinda has a crush on.

and then he encourages you. he leans his head on your shoulder. his hair tickles your cheek.

"damn. you're like an attention-starved cat." you joke.

he places your hand on his head himself. the brief warmth and glimpse at the size difference between his hand and your hand made him giddy.

you ruffle his hair lightly, and then he wears a satisfied smile. now early night has settled. it's quiet at the bridge except for the distant city sounds and lull of the highway.

"i was really worried that i did something wrong." he admits.

"i'm sorry."

he sighs, snuggling your shoulder. there's a nice silence between you and him.

then he breaks it.

"hey, i didn't say stop fluffing." his deep voice reverbs in your chest. he's playful and lively, but you can tell he's also tired from running all the way here.

"you're a menace." you tell him.

"but you like me, right?" it's more of an insecure question. he wants to hear you say it back, not as a playful joke.

"of course i do."

"good, good."

1K notes · View notes

werepuppy-steve · 1 year ago

Text

steddie ☆ G ☆ wc: 682 ☆ cw: teen dads

a little snippet from my teen dads au: tiny hands, little feet

The bell on the counter dings. Steve tilts his head back with a sigh and gives Robin a sidelong look across the table.

"Nope," she says, flipping through the only magazine they have in the place. They can probably recite the whole issue from memory by now. "I got the last three people. Go work your Harrington charm so I can add another 'you suck' tally."

The bell dings again and Steve groans, kicking Robin's foot as he rounds the table and opens the door leading behind the counter.

The lobby is empty. Great, they're getting ding-dong-ditch'd now. Fan-fucking-tastic.

He rolls his eyes and is about to snatch the bell off the counter and hide it when a tiny hand reaches up and taps it again. Steve holds back a snort, because he knows that tiny hand.

He steps up to the counter and sure enough, there stands a toddler with wild chestnut curls pulled into little pigtails, wearing a pink My Little Pony t-shirt and bright blue shorts.

Steve glances around the lobby and doesn't see anybody else in sight, which means...

He puts on his best customer service voice and gives the girl a smile. "Ahoy there, little lady. How'd you like to set sail on this ocean of flavor with with me?"

Of course, she doesn't completely understand any of that. She just blinks up at him and points at the pictures of ice cream.

"St'awb'y, p'ease."

Steve nods. "A wise choice, m'lady." He slides the cooler open and gives his scoop a twirl, making her giggle.

The door opens and Robin slowly peeks her head out, looking flabbergasted. "Who in the world are you talking to? Why are you talking like that?"

"Careful, Buckley," Steve nods towards the child. "There's a princess in our midst. Wouldn't want her to throw you in the dungeon for disrespect."

Robin looks at the tiny child who is watching Steve with rapt attention.

"I think she's more interested in the ice cream, actually."

Steve gasps as he puts a couple scoops into a small bowl. "Hearsay, Buckley. She'll have your head for that." He takes the bowl around the counter and kneels on one knee as if he's a knight, presenting it to her with a bowed head. "The finest strawberry ice cream in all the land, your highness."

She claps her hands and her shoes light up as she stomps her feet. "St'aw'by! T'ank, Da'y!"

Robin's eyes widen and her eyebrows shoot up to her hairline. "Daddy?"

"Sailor!"

Eddie Munson comes sliding into the lobby, his shoes squeaking on the waxed floor. He catches himself before he face plants and gasps like he's ran here from the other side of the mall.

"Sailor, honey, you can't run off like that!" he says around gulps of air. "About gave me a heart attack."

Steve picks the child up and scrunches his nose. "I think it might be time to give those backpack leashes a try," he tells him. "She's getting too curious for her own good."

"Wayne said I did the same thing at her age. Said it used to drive my mama crazy, trying to keep track of me." Sailor's chin is sticky with ice cream and Eddie wipes some of it off with his thumb. "You're taking after your old man a little too much, bug."

Sailor holds out her spoon. "Da'y try?"

Eddie can only huff a laugh and shake his head fondly. "Thank you, baby." He leans forward to take a bite of the offered ice cream and then turns to Steve to give him an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, I swear I had a hold on her. She saw the Scoops sign and then took off before I could catch her."

Steve sighs. "It looks like we're gonna have a little Road Runner on our hands."

"She definitely takes after you in that department, sweetheart," Eddie grins.

A throat clearing interrupts them and they both look at where Robin has been silently watching the three of them.

"Someone care to fill me in on all of this?"

more snippets from this au

taglist: @yournowheregirl @judasofsuburbia @steves-strapcollection @thefreakandthehair @stobinesque @tboygareth @starrystevie @inairbinad @flowercrowngods @starryeyedjanai @matchingbatbites @corrodedbisexual @theheadlessphilosopher @sidekick-hero @patchworkgargoyle @sentient-trash @wormdebut @legitcookie @corrodedcoughin @steddieas-shegoes @wynnyfryd

#cj talks #steve will always be silly for his kids in every universe #cj's wips #cj writes #tiny hands little feet #steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie dads

528 notes · View notes

criticallyacclaimedstranger · 6 months ago

Text

My Place or Yours? [Joel x f!reader]

Read on Ao3

Ship: Joel Miller x you/f!reader

Tags/warnings: Reader doesn't like weddings, kissing.

Summary: You're being tortured at a wedding, but there is a man there who saves your evening.

Words: 1,550

A/N: This is written for the Summer Lovin' challenge by @pedgito, who also made the moodboard. I picked the theme 'wedding', which was a weird choice for me because I really hate weddings, but I got Joel to help me get through it. Enjoy!

”I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

Had those magic words only been the end of your misery, this day would have been easy-peasy. But no, you wouldn’t get off the hook that easily. It was only the beginning of an evening filled with awkward speeches, parental tears, and drunk best men giving dubious toasts.

You just don’t do weddings well. Anyone you ever talked to would tell you that it’s because you’ve been burned, because you’re single, ”once you find Mr Right you’ll start to plan your own wedding!”, et cetera, et cetera. Maybe that’s true, but with your disposition, it doesn’t seem likely that you’ll ever understand the point of paying hundreds of thousands of dollars for one single day during which both your parents get to watch you make out after a minister has sprinkled some magic words over the two of you. It’s just not in your nature. You never dreamed about a fairytale wedding when you were little, and you thought your friends would wise up when you got older, but no. As soon as the question was popped, they all reverted back to their childhood selves, and began planning as if for the event of the millennia.

You’ve been to three weddings these last few years, and it doesn’t get any easier. It’s embarrassing, lavish, awkward, and weird. And as always, you’re there without a partner, and must sit there with a fake smile plastered on your face, with no one to bitch to. At least you’re not the only single one at this wedding; that’s happened before, and even if you didn’t mind being single, you were definitely feeling blue when you got home that night.

At least dinner is good. This particular bride isn’t following any fad diets that she’s forcing on everybody, so you’re enjoying a really delicious three course meal. Still, what would a wedding dinner be without interruptions in the form of long, meandering speeches? You are forced to put down your cutlery one too many times, and by the time you’re finishing your delicious medium rare steak, it’s already cold. Chasing leftover sauce with a piece of bread, you nod encouragingly at the waiter asking you if you want more wine. You want to ask them to leave the bottle, but they probably wouldn’t find it funny.

Too tired to make polite conversation, you start to wait for the unofficial break between main course and dessert, when people get up to stretch their legs. It’s your opportunity to get away for a bit. You even have a modus operandi for it: you bum a cigarette from one of the smokers even though you’ve never smoked, go to the side, and pretend to smoke it for as long as you can. If the venue is nice, you then walk around and inspect it. This wedding offers a lot in that aspect: it’s a big house, almost a mansion, in the countryside, with a park and lots of smaller, old buildings on the premises. Perfect for hiding, and then you can just return back to the dining-hall late and blame getting lost.

When the break finally is announced, you let the smokers leave first. By the time they're greedily sucking on their cigarettes, you show up and ask for one. Cigarette in hand, and nod in agreement with the light conversation: yes, it was a beautiful ceremony, yes, the dinner is delicious, yes, the bride is so pretty and the groom so handsome. Eventually, you make a break for it, saying something about wanting to see the premises. So you walk away, flicking away the pillar of ash on your unsmoked cigarette.

The din of the house grows distant as you walk across the yard, shamelessly dropping the cigarette and crushing it with your foot before heading for the garden, quickly as if to escape the disgusting smoke. Once you reach the first, fragrant rose bushes, you start to relax. You find a bench and sink down on it with a relieved sigh. The light breeze smells of oleander, the birds are chirping, and it's pleasantly warm. Perfect.

You dig into your evening bag and check your phone. No messages, of course: most of your friends are at the wedding. Putting the phone away to instead enjoy the garden, you remain seated for a little longer than you know is considered polite. When you finally rise to go back, you notice someone approaching you. A man, around your age, a friend of the groom's, you think, but you've never talked to him.

"Hi," he calls out. "You okay?"

"Sure," you nod easily, "I just needed some air."

"A lot calmer here, isn't it?" He's standing in front of you now, all broad shoulders and narrow hips. Very handsome, but you're feeling defensive, and when your answer delays a little too long, he clears his throat.

"Sorry. Hi." He extends his right hand. "Joel. I'm a friend of Mark's."

You take his hand and give him your name. He doesn't let go immediately after shaking your hand.

"Nice to meet you." That smile. Goddammit, that's a charming smile. When his warm hand finally unclasps yours, you want to reach for it again.

"Can I help you, Joel?" you ask instead, trying to sound unperturbed.

"I saw you leave and wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Why wouldn't I be okay?"

He shrugs lightly, passing a hand over his hair. A curl bounces back to gently lick his forehead.

"You just looked like you weren't maybe having such a good time."

Well, shit. You thought you had been keeping a straight face, but clearly you had failed. Your gaze flickers, and you clear your throat.

“Don’t tell anyone, but I’m not good at weddings.”

He chuckles low, but not maliciously.

“It shows.”

“Yeah, well, it’s hard to keep a straight face for all these hours,” you snap, a little harsher than intended. Joel holds his hand to his chest.

“Didn’t mean to offend you.”

You shake your head. “Don’t worry. We better get back before they send out a search party.”

“Hey, lemme make it up to you. Can I have the first dance with you?”

Frowning, you eye him, expecting him to be joking. But his gaze is open and honest.

“Sure,” you eventually smile. “Find me when the dancing starts.”

And so it is that after dessert and another couple of meandering speeches, after the bride and groom have danced their first dance, Joel finds you in the crowd. He leads you to the dancefloor with a steady hand, and when he puts his arm around your waist, you don’t mind that his hand comes to a rest a little lower than expected. He keeps eye contact, but not in a creepy way as he makes small talk, asking you about your life more than he talks about his own. He seems genuinely interested in you, and that makes your head swim more than the alcohol.

When the music changes to something more energetic, you pull him to the side.

“Not my cup of tea,” you explain, and he nods, seemingly happy with being off the dancefloor as people begin to shake their asses.

“A drink?”

“Sure.”

He takes you to the bar and you both get drinks. The bride and her bridesmaids are cheering loudly on the dancefloor, and the noise is beginning to wear you down.

“Let’s go out?” you suggest to Joel, who nods.

There are some people scattered around the yard, but the garden is empty. The smell of roses is even stronger now when the hour is late, and you notice that you’re actually enjoying yourself. Joel is so easy to talk to, you’re comfortable in his company, and he makes you laugh.

“Hey,” you finally say. “Thanks for not being weird about me not liking weddings.”

“Why would I be weird about it?” He sounds genuinely surprised.

“Because everybody loves weddings, and I just can’t,” you shrug, but with a hint of desperation in your voice. “And if you don’t like them, then you’re just bitter and probably in need of the right person to have your own wedding with.”

He’s quiet for a moment, sips his drink.

“I know I can keep a secret,” he starts, his voice low, “but can you?”

“I can.”

“I don’t like weddings, either.”

You stare at him for a moment before slapping his arm.

“You could’ve told me earlier!”

He laughs. “I know, I know, I’m sorry!”

“Asshole!” you blurt out, but can’t say more, because Joel’s lips are on yours, and you drop your glass on the gravel where it shatters, splashing liquor over your feet. And you don’t give a single goddamn. Your hands come up to his shoulders, pulling him closer, and you kiss him back, tasting the whiskey on him, a peppery twang from the steak he had earlier, the bristles on his face scratching your skin.

When you finally have to step back to take a breather, he licks his lips and looks at you with heavy-lidded, dreamy eyes.

“Not too soon?”

“No,” you shake your head, “Just perfect.”

He grins. “How soon d’you think it would be polite to leave?”

“I don’t care, we’ve suffered enough. My place or yours?”

#joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #my fic

229 notes · View notes

puppy-steve · 2 months ago

Text

steddie | G | wc: 682 | teen dads

a little snippet from my teen dads au: tiny hands, little feet

The bell on the counter dings. Steve tilts his head back with a sigh and gives Robin a sidelong look across the table.

“Nope,” she says, flipping through the only magazine they have in the place. They can probably recite the whole issue from memory by now. “I got the last three people. Go work your Harrington charm so I can add another ‘you suck’ tally.”

The bell dings again and Steve groans, kicking Robin’s foot as he rounds the table and opens the door leading behind the counter.

The lobby is empty. Great, they’re getting ding-dong-ditch’d now. Fan-fucking-tastic.

He rolls his eyes and is about to snatch the bell off the counter and hide it when a tiny hand reaches up and taps it again. Steve holds back a snort, because he knows that tiny hand.

He steps up to the counter and sure enough, there stands a toddler with wild chestnut curls pulled into little pigtails, wearing a pink My Little Pony t-shirt and bright blue shorts.

Steve glances around the lobby and doesn’t see anybody else in sight, which means…

He puts on his best customer service voice and gives the girl a smile. “Ahoy there, little lady. How’d you like to set sail on this ocean of flavor with with me?”

Of course, she doesn’t completely understand any of that. She just blinks up at him and points at the pictures of ice cream.

“St'awb'y, p'ease.”

Steve nods. “A wise choice, m'lady.” He slides the cooler open and gives his scoop a twirl, making her giggle.

The door opens and Robin slowly peeks her head out, looking flabbergasted. “Who in the world are you talking to? Why are you talking like that?”

“Careful, Buckley,” Steve nods towards the child. “There’s a princess in our midst. Wouldn’t want her to throw you in the dungeon for disrespect.”

Robin looks at the tiny child who is watching Steve with rapt attention.

“I think she’s more interested in the ice cream, actually.”

Steve gasps as he puts a couple scoops into a small bowl. “Hearsay, Buckley. She’ll have your head for that.” He takes the bowl around the counter and kneels on one knee as if he’s a knight, presenting it to her with a bowed head. “The finest strawberry ice cream in all the land, your highness.”

She claps her hands and her shoes light up as she stomps her feet. “St'aw'by! T'ank, Da'y!”

Robin’s eyes widen and her eyebrows shoot up to her hairline. “Daddy?”

“Sailor!”

Eddie Munson comes sliding into the lobby, his shoes squeaking on the waxed floor. He catches himself before he face plants and gasps like he’s ran here from the other side of the mall.

“Sailor, honey, you can’t run off like that!” he says around gulps of air. “About gave me a heart attack.”

Steve picks the child up and scrunches his nose. “I think it might be time to give those backpack leashes a try,” he tells him. “She’s getting too curious for her own good.”

“Wayne said I did the same thing at her age. Said it used to drive my mama crazy, trying to keep track of me.” Sailor’s chin is sticky with ice cream and Eddie wipes some of it off with his thumb. “You’re taking after your old man a little too much, bug.”

Sailor holds out her spoon. “Da'y try?”

Eddie can only huff a laugh and shake his head fondly. “Thank you, baby.” He leans forward to take a bite of the offered ice cream and then turns to Steve to give him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, I swear I had a hold on her. She saw the Scoops sign and then took off before I could catch her.”

Steve sighs. “It looks like we’re gonna have a little Road Runner on our hands.”

“She definitely takes after you in that department, sweetheart,” Eddie grins.

A throat clearing interrupts them and they both look at where Robin has been silently watching the three of them.

“Someone care to fill me in on all of this?”

buy me a ☕?

#steddie #transmasc steve #ftm steve #steddie dads #tiny hands little feet #puppy speaks #puppy writes

128 notes · View notes

fiveht · 9 months ago

Text

Proof of life (Adore pt 3)

Hello my sweet angel babies ♥️

I'm not going to be able to adequately express my gratitude for the steady stream of love (and concern, sorry) I've been receiving over the past couple of months. I'm so sorry I've been AWOL, it will definitely happen again. Because see, for me, I usually have to make a choice between social and creative fandom participation. My battery is small, and takes a long time to charge.

Thank you to everyone who's left comments and asks and DMs since I've been gone. I don't think I can respond to all of it, but rest assured those messages ping my cold, dead heart every time I see them.

So I'm gonna go out on a limb here. I did this same thing months and months ago, when I was working on Head Over Feet, and let me be clear: posting even a single word of a WIP goes against my every instinct and principle as an author. I am someone who likes to finish an entire story before I post any of it, and on top of that, I am NOT a fast writer, so the expectations that I'm setting up here might not be advisable. But I did it before and managed to finish the thing, and I want to give you guys something in exchange for being so unbelievably awesome, so here I am again.

This will probably be the only time I mention this story in public until it's finished and posted, and inquiries about my progress are unlikely to help with the writing process, I'm just saying. I reserve the right to change every last word of this before the final draft, and I also reserve the right to fall off the face of the planet and simply never finish it, as much as I will strive to prevent that from happening. Please be patient with me.

Anyway, here is my paltry offering to say thanks for the love: the (VERY rough) first ~1300 words of the third instalment of The Adventures of Soft Daddy and Danger Twink.

Sirius secures his handheld shower head to its holder at the edge of his clawfoot tub, and steps out carefully onto the bathmat. He shivers in the cool air outside the shower curtain; it's about twenty degrees below zero outside, so even if he could afford to run his ancient radiator at full blast, it probably wouldn't help much.

He dries himself off and checks his reflection in the mirror, turning his face this way and that as he tugs his hair out of the bun he'd piled it into to keep it dry during his shower. There's no need for makeup tonight, not when he's not even planning to put on clothes.

It's incrementally warmer when he steps out into the main room of his apartment. He gathers an array of splayed text books and notes from his bed and dumps them carelessly onto the couch, then closes his new laptop and places it delicately on the coffee table. It's the most expensive thing he owns, save for the Gucci backpack currently sitting in his wardrobe with a three-inch berth around it like his shoes and other bags might somehow contaminate it. It's weird owning rich-people stuff when you are still, objectively, broke as fuck.

He perches on the edge of his bed and sets his phone to charge, because his battery doesn't even last a day anymore, and he's going to need it this evening. He tucks it in next to his pillow and picks up his new toy.

The plug isn't much larger than the one he already has. A little longer, which is appealing, but no wider, so it shouldn't be a challenge to get it in comfortably. He disconnects it from its charger and hefts it in his hand, feeling the added weight from the electronics inside.

He picks up his phone, and hesitates when he sees the notification waiting for him.

Rieka: let's go out tomorrow

Rieka: the fact that we haven't been drunk since the term started is criminal

Rieka: we've had two chem labs and zero drinks

Sirius purses his lips, thumbs hovering over the keyboard. There's a fine line here, and he hasn't quite found it yet.

Me: got plans

Me: raincheck?

So complete avoidance is the best strategy, right?

Rieka: booooo 👎

He sighs, but at least she's not asking for an explanation. He opens a different conversation then, pushing all thoughts of Rieka Lupin into a tidy, sealed compartment, not to be opened during certain activities with a certain relative of hers.

Me: i'm ready

Me: are you in your office?

Daddy: Yup, I've got a few minutes

Daddy: Want me to call?

Instead of answering, Sirius hits the call button himself.

"Hey baby," Remus answers. His voice is already smooth and honey-sweet, and just from that, Sirius knows he's planning to lay it on thick tonight.

"Hi daddy," Sirius says with a smile. "Should I put it in now?"

There's a low chuckle over the line. "Are we feeling eager?"

"Always," Sirius says, laying back on his bed.

"Use the good lube I got you, it's gonna be in there a while."

He switches the call to speaker, and snags the bottle from his nightstand. "I threw out the old stuff, you've got me ruined for cheap lube."

"Only the best for that ass," Remus says, and Sirius can hear his smirk.

He gives the plug a liberal coating, running his fingers along its shape, his dick twitching just at the feel of the silky-smooth silicone, at the anticipation of what's about to happen. He spreads his legs wide, drawing one knee up to give himself easier access.

"Take it slow," Remus says, succinctly heading off Sirius' impulse to just shove the thing inside himself in one go. "Rub the tip against yourself, so you're nice and wet."

Sirius shuts his eyes as he obeys, sliding the slick end of the toy over his entrance. "Okay."

"Are you going to be a good boy for daddy tonight?"

"Uh-huh," Sirius says, teasing the very tip of the plug in and out of his hole.

"Tell me how."

"I'm not gonna touch."

"You're not gonna touch, and you're not gonna come."

"Yeah," Sirius says. His cock is starting to harden as his body tries to draw the plug inside. "Can I put it in, daddy?"

"Slow," Remus reminds him, "Slide it in nice and slow for me, baby."

Sirius catches his lip between his teeth and tries to push the plug in slowly, the way he knows Remus would do if he was here.

The shower has left him relaxed and more than ready, and it's hard not to take advantage, just press the toy in to its limit because he can. But he's working on his patience -- under Remus' careful tutelage -- so he shuts his eyes and tries to savour it, the tease of the plug's rubber tip at his entrance, the slow stretch as he eases it past the slight resistance before he sighs, and his body eagerly accepts the intrusion.

"Mmmm," Sirius sighs as he settles the base of the plug flush against his entrance, shifting his hips and feeling the constant, dull pressure against his prostate.

"How's it feel?"

"Good," Sirius says, splaying his legs out and just enjoying the pleasant fullness. It's been almost a week since Remus last fucked him, and that's just way too long. Christmas really spoiled him. He tugs the blankets up around him, because it's going to take some time before his body temperature is high enough to fight against the chill in his apartment.

"Have you tried out the settings at all?" Remus asks him, and Sirius picks up the phone, switching off speaker and holding it to his ear.

"No," he says, grinding his ass down against the bed to test the plug's reach inside him. "I thought you'd rather do the honours."

Remus hums, and Sirius hears the phone shifting in his grip. "I'm gonna turn it on, okay? Lowest setting."

"O--" Sirius stutters as the plug buzzes to life inside him, nestled snug against his prostate and sending little zings of pleasure down his legs. "Fuck that feels good. That's the lowest setting?"

"It is," Remus confirms. "Want to run through them all, see how high it goes? Or would you rather be surprised?"

"Mmmm, surprise me."

"Surprise it is," Remus says, and Sirius hears shuffling papers in the background as he prepares for his night class. Psychology 1001, Thursdays, 7-9:30PM. Two and a half hours of a lecture that Remus swears he's given so many times he could recite it in his sleep, so why not give himself something fun to focus on while he goes through the motions?

Being privy to all of this brilliant, upstanding man's secret perversions is a privilege Sirius does not take lightly.

"You can turn it off from the app if you need to," Remus is saying, "Or you can call me and I'll switch it off. My phone's on vibrate, so I'll see it right away."

Sirius smiles to himself. "Got it," he says, though this is a rehashing of the rules that Remus had laid out when he'd brought the plug over last weekend. He'd called it a "late Christmas gift", as if he hadn't already given Sirius several thousand dollars worth of presents on Christmas morning.

There's more rustling over the line, the squeak of a chair.

"Tell me again how you're going to be good tonight."

"I'm not gonna touch myself, and I'm not gonna come." The toy is still buzzing away inside him, making everything a little fuzzy at the edges.

"Tell me why."

"'Cause daddy's in charge, even when he's not here."

"Good boy."

Sirius squirms with pleasure, his cock smearing a little drop of fluid on his belly as the toy hums insistently at his prostate.

"I have to head out," Remus says. "How do you feel?"

"Good," Sirius says, his abs tensing as he shifts his legs and the angle of the toy changes. "Excited."

"Me too," Remus says softly. "I'll talk to you soon, beautiful. Send me some pictures." With a low beep, the call disconnects.

#and i disappear into the night once again #turned off anon asks for the time being #sorry i love you guys i'm just awkward

286 notes · View notes

suni-writings · 6 months ago

Text

Shower

dominik szoboszlai x fem!reader

w.c: 1.6k

content warning: minors dni, smut, fingering, oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex (do not practice)

As the last few bits of soap finally slid off her body, she reached for the spot her towel usually laid at... to find nothing.

“What?” She questioned herself, automatically trying to remember putting it there before her shower, only she couldn't. “Fuck!”

As if on cue, the door to the volleyball team's locker room opened and a highly obnoxious voice was heard. What was he even doing there? She didn't think he was looking for her, but also, not looking for anyone else either. Maybe trying to steal Gatorade again? Be what it may, she needed his help, so she had no other choice but to swallow her pride.

“Dominik! Dominik?” She called out, and his newly commenced whistling ended abruptly. “Dominik, is that you? Can you, uh, pass me a towel? No, make it two, please. Please?”

The sassy hungarian smirked to himself. “Well, well, well...” he said, approaching the stall from where the familiar voice was coming from. “Aren't you in a mess, darling?”

She sighed, already exasperated. “Please, just pass me the stupid towel, don't make a fuss out of it.”

“Fine,” he said, reaching for the white cloth in her locker and noticing the neatly folded clothes next to it. “But I'm taking your clothes with me. If you want them back, come by my dorm.” He added while tossing the towel over her shower stall door.

“What?! No!” She yelled, hurrying to get herself wrapped on the towel to try and chase after him before he left the locker rooms, but alas, he was long gone when she finally managed. She groaned in frustration, seeing no other exit than changing back into her volleyball uniform and looking for him.

His dorm was in the building next, just across the fields, but that meant having to walk by every single team training right then. The staring— the gawking, the wish to give herself to the first jock she saw just to take some revenge on Domi.

No, no. Clear thoughts, happy mind. She would just grab her clothes and walk right out, back into the shower of her own apartment.

Three knocks were enough as she planned to annoy him into opening the door, but he seemed to be waiting right behind it for her. His face, it's obvious he's trying to remain serene and expressionless, but seeing her in her uniform is not what he expected at all.

He collects his thoughts as she lets herself in, scanning the room for any trace of her garments. “You changed back into your sweaty kit?” There's judgement in his tone, although it's slightly forced, and she notices.

“Yeah. Couldn't walk here naked,” she replies, a sigh following her words. “Although, with the way those jocks were looking at me, you would've assumed I was. Three of those... Football players tried to take a bite of me.”

Those words do not sit right with him at all. It was not what he had planned at all.

“Do you not have a backup outfit?” He asks, letting the slightest desperation in his tone be heard. She's definitely amused.

“Not on Fridays. It's laundry day,” she replies simply, adding a shrug between sentences. “Now, if you'd be so kind to give me my clothes, cause I need to go shower again, thanks to you.”

He doesn't say anything for a couple seconds, instead walks up to her from behind. “No, I don't think I will,” he speaks, slow and sure of his words. She sighs again.

“But Dominik, I—” His hands turn her around and he presses her body against his, his hand gripping her ass tightly. Oh, how much he loves her volleyball kit.

“No. You know, I have a shower here...” he suggests, hand now on her lower back but sliding down as he means to pick her up. She realizes this, and takes just a bit of impulse from the floor to help him, wrapping her legs around his waist. She stares at his unreadable expression as he marches towards his bathroom, definitely nicer than those locker room showers. “We could, you know... save some water.”

Her back is pressed against the wall as he suddenly opens the faucet on them, cold water soaking them as it slowly becomes warmer. More sudden, though, is the contact of his lips on hers as he desperately and hungrily wishes to reclaim her as his. He's tugging on the sides of her definitely-too-short lycra bottoms, trying to pull them off. Success, then her soft skin growing wetter as her tops are pulled off afterwards. His own white shirt is half buttoned up, but he's quickly undoing every button to throw it in the corner with her uniform. His trousers are next to go and he also pulls them off along with his gray Calvins. His lips have barely left hers in the process, though problematic at times, he manages to keep on kissing her as she sits on his shower ledge, next to his hair care products.

His mouth now moves to kiss her neck, slowly, devilishly. Her head is softly thrown back as he licks fire up her throat, at least it feels like it. Her legs spread for him when his fingers finally touch her— and that's it. She's gone, there's no point in fighting him –or at least pretending to– anymore. No point in faking a disgust for him and his mouth and his hands and his everything, he thought he had lured her into this, but in reality she had brought herself as a sacrifice.

His finger pumps in and out of her needy core as she moans, softly at first, trying to hold back and not demonstrate how good it actually felt. He adds a second one, and the holding back grows harder, just like him. His fingers waltz in her like they belong (and maybe, they do), she can't pretend it's not heavenly anymore. Fuck it comes suddenly out of his mouth, and he pulls his fingers out of her and gets down as best as he can. Water runs down his head and face as he devours her, her gentle moans becoming louder and more desperate with every stroke of his tongue on her. It's messy, it's uncomfortable, and yet it's the most toe curling orgasm she has ever had in her entire life. Her hands pull at his hair desperately, shuddering with pleasure as he tries to continue.

But his fingers weren't enough for her, and he was so egotistical to know it. He didn't even give her two seconds to recompose herself after taking her further from over the edge, he got up with shaky legs and pulled her into him. His dick slid into her so easily, you could think they were two matching pieces of a puzzle. He cursed out loud, throwing his head back before looking down at it. She was biting her lip, also looking down and then up at him. He could pull her and have her against the wall again, and so he did, bottoming out in the process while she clawed at the skin of his shoulders and moaned his name so loud, surely the people from his floor would recognize him by name from now on.

The pace that Dominik set wasn't even, no, it kind of picked up and slowed back down depending on how he felt—having her always compromised his durability. He kissed her neck, hard, biting even, trying to silence himself from the pleasured groans that were escaping him.

“I can't take it, I can't,” she cried. “S'too much,” and she moaned in desperation. Her neck had now several light purple marks, and his back was adorned with abstract lines of pink and red scratches.

“You can, babygirl, you can. Be good for me, take it, yes?” He spits out between thrusts, heavy breaths and low groans. Against her better judgement, she found herself nodding, her eyes tightly shut and her eyebrows knit into a very deep frown.

Her pussy clenched around him, something she had no control over at all. Still, it annoyed him, it felt so heavenly good he knew he wasn't gonna last much longer. “Fuck, princess. You feel so fucking good...” he praised. “Too good, I can't hold back much longer.” He warned this as his thrusts became sloppy.

Where did the hate go? Who blurred the lines? Did he even want the lines to be traced again? No, he most certainly didn't. Not when she was moaning in his ear, and her legs were wrapped around him, and her fucked out face was his and only his. Not when she was taking him in full without crying, not when she was coming undone for him again. He was definitely not going to let her go again. Fuck that stupid rivalry.

“Good girl, fuck,” he says to her in a soft tone. His hand comes up to push a few wet strands of hair off of her face. “You look so pretty when I fuck you.”

“I look pretty always,” she replies, breathless. He smirks.

His thrusting hasn't died down, and so a few strokes later he's desperately putting her back on her feet and pulling out, jerking off rapidly and letting his cum fall to the wet floor as he groans. As she's so suddenly standing again, she holds onto his shoulders to maintain balance.

He's trembling, breathing heavily as she observes the last few drops of his release gather on his tip, he rinses them off quickly.

“Now I guess we should shower for real,” he laughs.

“Again...” she protests, jokingly.

#dominik szoboszlai #dominik szoboszlai x reader #dominik szoboszlai x yn #dominik szoboszlai x you #dominik szoboszlai smut #dominik szoboszlai fluff #dominik szoboszlai fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #reading #writeblr

127 notes · View notes

disregardcanon · 8 months ago

Note

this probably seems like a weird question from your end,but why do fanfic writers care so much about comments? aos already tracks hits and likes, sorry ""kudos"", so why are comments such a big deal to the point that people will stop writing?

okay, so i'm going to take this question very seriously and i promise it's not to make you feel bad. this is a comprehensive explanation of reasons that comments are important for me, both as a writer and as a reader

engagement vs numbers game

seeing trends

buy-in

community building

engagement vs numbers game

let's look quickly at two different fics of mine. this is the kudos count for a fic called Of First Kisses and Burnt Lips

it's old. it's been up on ao3 for almost 11 years now. 258 people liked it enough to leave a kudos, 12 people liked it enough for a bookmark, and it's been clicked on 3,859 times.

i have no clue what almost any of these people on ao3 THINK about it. beyond "huh. sure. i'll kudos that". compare this to its crosspost on ffn, where i got 5 reviews

3/5 mention it being cute. 3/5 give appreciation to me for taking the time to write it. 2/5 praise the writing itself from the attention to detail with grammar to the craft. 1/5 is an "um..." which is hard to decipher but appreciate and 1/5 is a silly reaction, but it's a reaction! look, someone felt a felling reading my thing! that made me giggle!

looking at the stats here from a purely numbers perspective, my fic DID better on ao3. it got a lot more kudos than it ever got faves or reviews on ffn. but those ffn comments are still what i think about when i remember this fic.

sure, a shear number like hits or kudos can be comforting and motivating. i'm definitely not telling you to NOT leave kudos! but the fics that i've come back to, recently, are the ones where i don't have a lot of kudos but i do have a few people who are invested in the stories and leaving comments to tell me

2. seeing trends

lets look at a few of the comments on my fic The Maid of Honor Made Them Do It

so just in these two comments, we see both commenters hone in on the same detail: my choice to include a special christian music playlist that this characters' friends made for her. a few other people in this thread mentioned that same detail, so i know this bit really worked well! it's great feedback that lets me know that a good chunk of readers agree with my characterization here.

these readers zoom in on specific details that they really liked! things that made them laugh, the absurdity of the concept, enjoying reading it, and that they could see it staged, which is a HUGE compliment for a work in a fandom for theater.

i've always had trouble with imaging where characters are in a space, how they're occupying it and moving, and how to use that for characterization purposes. however, i got more than one comment on this fic about how people could see it staged! that means that i'm improving in an area that i've always struggled with. that's huge. it makes me want to keep working on this thing! it makes me feel like what i'm doing here matters, because lots of people are picking up on similar things! they're invested enough to give me a comment! and it makes me want to keep writing for the hatchetfield fandom because some people are invested in my work here. that is BIG! seeing trends in the way that readers experience your story helps a lot with writer buy-in for a project and also for writers self-analysis.

as a commenter: this helps me JUST as much. when i really dig into what i enjoyed about a fic to tell the writer about it, that helps me analyze and articulate the strengths and things i might want to take away from the storytelling, and that makes my writing better too!

3. buy-in

this is a comment on a series that has less than 100 kudos across three fics, but has thoughtful, appreciative comments on each work. it's called Melting Pot

the commenter deleted their ao3 account. they may be one of the people who commented on the next fic, which i posted recently. they might NOT have been! honestly, it doesn't matter that much to me. this person gave me a gentle and nudge about a fic that matters to me and mattered to them at the time, and they were part of the push i needed to get back to it.

from a commenter perspective, i know that hearing a kind word can help someone keep up their motivation to write, even when i can't write in depth comments the way that i like to!

just recently i only had the time to comment "nice update" on a favorite fic of mine called Teeth That Turn. but they know that i come and i read and they know and talk to me by (user)name. because they know i care about this thing they care about! and it's way more fun to do something like this when i know i can chat with the author about theories and thoughts and ideas. and this isn't a "wow aren't i so cool other writers like me! tehehe" bragging thing, it's just evidence for the case of why comments matter?

if i didn't want this to be a two way buy-in, i'd ONLY read published fiction, you know? we're all playing in the sandbox on the playground and i like what they made. they like that i like what they made :) we're scheduling a play date to fight with sticks after school my mom said it's okay!

4. community building

now i know that i just mentioned above here why i like being a commenter and how it helps authors, as well as why i like HAVING commenters as an author. i'm still arguing those things as a lead up to this section, where i have two other points to make about community building here too.

1. you can comment on OTHER comments! if you go through and read to see what other people are saying, you can agree with them. you can add some commentary! sometimes you can make a joke! and i've only ever had fun responses from something like that. authors tend to love that their fics are getting such a response that people are talking to each other about it! like look!!!!!! my thing got you to talk to someone else about it holy shit?!??!

2. commenting on fics in your fandom builds you a good reputation and makes other authors you comment on more likely to read YOUR fic. i'm not going to post any screenshots on this one because it would be embarrassing for everyone involved, but there have been authors that i really admired who gave my stuff a try after i commented on theirs. and they've told me that's why they tried it! like obviously it's not just networking or whatever, but it's really nice to have someone give your stuff a try because you've been enthusiastic and thoughtful about theirs.

and you make friends this way! fandom friends! who want to talk about your blorbos! you get to go on little play dates in cyberspace with cool people who like what you like. you don't ever HAVE to be a writer, of course. if you don't want to throw your hat into the ring or make art or edits or gif sets or anything, that's cool. no one ever has to participate in fandom outside of their comfort zone! but if you want to, you know that you'll feel more welcomed if you have some people in your corner for it, and making friends in a space, screaming about how much you love the characters you love, and remembering that fic authors especially are just fans too will help you feel like you "deserve" to exist in the space. maybe you don't write, but you go here too. you've got a space in the fandom and your comments don't have to be, like, perfect literary essays for authors to appreciate them and get a motivation boost from them still existing and us being able to go back to them and go!!! look!!! i don't suck!!! this person liked what i did so i'm okay! :)

#anons #writing things #ao3 things #the case for commenting

162 notes · View notes

vigilskeep · 7 months ago

Note

Any guesses on the Veilguard companions?

some suggestions i think are worth placing bets on

an antivan crow (the concept art and short story presence PLUS what’s been said about each companion representing “iconic factions”, i think this is a dead certainty). natural choice for a rogue, but the concept of crow mages has been being set up in the novels for a while

again judging by concept art presence, a nevarran mortalitasi necromancer OR a nevarran possessed skeleton type as our friendly spirit companion

a grey warden, probably from the anderfels/weisshaupt itself. always has been one and there is no faction more iconic, right? i believe there’s ancient voice acting snippets suggesting it’s some guy called davrin

considering the collective way that concept art captions, absolution, and apparently three separate stories from tevinter nights were like “hey did you know the LORDS OF FORTUNE are a thing? the lords of fortune from RIVAIN”, one of these. my guess is that they thought about going felicisima armada for a rivaini companion but didn’t want to just rehash isabela’s pirate gimmick so they made something up and they’ve been trying to set it up really hard

i’ve seen people suggest scout harding is being pushed forward for the role and i guess the inquisition is an iconic faction now?

otherwise, couldn’t really say for a dwarven companion. iconic factions might include the legion of the dead, the carta... the tevinter ambassadoria is a bit more niche but would make sense for a northern companion. i could also see them simply making one of the other suggestions a dwarf, the grey warden is definitely a strong contender since it’s always been a human man and it’d be nice to mix it up

speculatively, i’d like to see a templar. you can’t deny it’s an iconic faction. either a southern templar trying to take up a new cause after everything crashed and burned or a vint templar with a completely new perspective to what we’re used to would be a lot of fun. i would actually love to play this character if it’s not a companion lmao

another obvious faction is the dalish. it’s been a while since we had one, we’ve never had a non-mage dalish companion so there’s a lot of room for a fresh approach, they’re so plot relevant right now. someone’s got to give us that good good exposition! and i am so sick of it not being the dalish themselves 😭

i would be very surprised if there’s no qunari or tal-vashoth. i don’t have many strong ideas, i would just expect it to be a rogue or a mage, since warriors are all we’ve had

all that obviously tallies up to more than seven so we have to pick and choose—and i’m sure there’s plenty of surprises i haven’t thought of—but those would be my instincts! i’ve been thinking about this for a while haha. i’d be excited for any of these, just please, please hand over the romanceable dwarf. i know you’ve got them bioware

#how are we tagging this game.#dav

125 notes · View notes

sailortongue · 1 year ago

Text

Sweet Tooth

pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

wc: 4.5k

summary: spencer finds himself frequenting a local donut establishment for more reasons than one. his sweet tooth isn't limited to just pastries and he bets you'd taste delicious

cw: oral (fem receiving), fingering. pls pls pls let me know if i missed smth but i think those are the only major things

------

It was widely known that Spencer was fond of overly sweet coffee, but his sweet tooth was not limited to just his morning pick-me-up. The team had recently wrapped up with a rather grueling case, and he thought he’d surprise them all with donuts that morning. So there he was, in the local donut shop, staring at what must have been the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. The way the early morning light shone in through the windows and illuminated you was truly breathtaking. Try as he might, he stumbled over the order, embarrassing himself in front of you and surely ruining his chances of you liking him.

You could tell he was flustered, so you did your best to suppress your giggles. He was cute. Very cute. This was the first time you had seen him come into the store, and you were hoping it wasn’t the last. He paid for his order and you boxed it up, receiving a shy smile from him as you handed it to him. “Thank you,” he said, before turning and walking out quickly, the bell above the door chiming.

It was a little over a week before you saw him again. He greeted you with a “good morning” as he walked in and approached the counter.

“Good morning!” you said back cheerily, glad to see that he had returned. He scanned the selection of confections before selecting a chocolate donut with sprinkles.

“Huh, I thought you’d be more of a donut hole kind of guy,” you said, trying to make conversation with the handsome man.

He laughed a bit and shook his head. “No, chocolate and sprinkles are definitely the best. They've been my favorite since I was a kid.”

“Oh yeah? I think if I was to pick a favorite it would have to be the apple fritter.”

Not missing the chance to learn about you, even if it was just your favorite donut, he asked, “Why that one? Not that it's a bad choice, but most people seem to prefer the chocolate and glazed.”

You laughed and Spencer swore his heart melted right then and there. “Well, they're my dad’s favorite. And every time he had one he would split it between us. So not only is it delicious, but it reminds me of my childhood.”

He smiled at your wholesome reason and before he could stop himself he said, “That’s really cute.”

You blushed, consumed with the thought that he considered something about you was cute, even if it was something so minor as to why your favorite donut is what it is. God, you didn't even know his name and there you were, developing a crush. Your eyes met his, and you were awestruck at how warm and inviting they looked. He had these expressive brown eyes that you could get lost in if you allowed yourself to. You shook your head from your thoughts, realizing you were probably freaking him out. He was just here for a donut and here you were staring at him like some creep. You hadn’t even bagged it for him yet. Pull yourself together you chastised yourself internally, finally breaking eye contact and doing your job like a normal person.

When you handed him the bag he briefly glanced down at your name tag. “Thanks, Yn,” he said, giving you a small smile. What a pretty name, he thought.

“No problem, have a good day…” you trailed off, hoping he would introduce himself. It was only fair since he knew your name.

“Spencer,” he filled in for you.

“Spencer,” you repeated. “I’ll have to remember that for next time.”

–❀–

Next time turned out to be three days later. You were back in the kitchen, not expecting a customer to be there so early until you heard the bell chime. “I’ll be right there!” you called out. You quickly rinsed your hands and were still drying them on a towel when you walked out to see a familiar mop of brown hair. “Spencer! Good morning!”

He chuckled, “Good morning, Yn.”

“Chocolate with sprinkles?” you asked, remembering his favorite.

“You remembered?”

“You’re beginning to become a regular, and I make it a point to memorize those orders.”

Spencer’s smile dropped a bit, somewhat disheartened that it was something you did for all customers and not just him.

You didn’t notice the slight change in his expression and continued, deciding to take a chance. “Plus, it’s hard to forget the cute customers.”

Spencer’s face instantly flushed crimson, all logical thought leaving him. So much for his high IQ. His mouth opened and closed again, desperately trying to formulate some sort of response. But Spencer couldn't even think straight. His thoughts were in a flurry and every single one was about you.

Seeing his reaction, you backpedaled as fast as you could. “I’m sorry. That was too forward of me. I don’t know why I said that. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable—”

“It’s perfectly alright.” He cut off your frantic apology. “You didn't make me uncomfortable at all. I’m actually quite flattered that you find me as attractive as I find you.”

It was your turn to be speechless. When his words fully sunk in, you couldn't stop the wide smile and giggle that bubbled forth. This man was going to be the death of you. “So, uh,” he started nervously, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck, “I was wondering if I could get your number?”

You beamed at him. “Yes, of course!” You went to the register and rang him up, writing your phone number on his receipt before handing it to him. He dialed it into his phone, and you heard your phone ringing faintly from the break room where you had left it. “There,” he said. “Now you have my number, too.”

–❀–

Your morning rendezvous with Spencer quickly became the highlight of your week. He was always dressed professionally, and you finally decided to ask him where he worked. The two of you talked about nearly everything under the sun, so you were shocked when you came to the realization that you didn't even know what he did for work.

The next time he came in, you practically ambushed him with your question. His eyes widened in surprise, “Oh, I’m an agent with the BAU. Did I not tell you that?”

“No, you did not. What’s the BAU?”

“It stands for behavioral analysis unit. It’s a department of the FBI. We analyze the unsub’s-”

“Unsub?” you interrupted.

“Unidentified subject. So what we do is analyze the unsub’s actions and behavior and create a profile to better understand how and why they do what they do. This is what allows us to determine the identity of the unsub and arrest them.”

Your jaw had dropped open during his explanation. The guy you’d been casually talking to turned out to be an FBI agent. Cute and badass.

Becoming shy from the attention, he changed the subject to something he’d been wanting to ask you. “So, Yn, would you be interested in meeting somewhere other than here? When you're not at work and I don't have to go to my own job?”

Your face flushed with heat, and your heart pounded in your chest. “Like a date?”

Trusting that your hopeful expression was a good indication, Spencer nodded. “Yeah, like a date.”

The bright smile you gave him at his confirmation would live in Spencer’s mind for the rest of the day.

“I’m free this weekend,” you suggested.

–❀–

And just like that, it became a routine for Spencer to visit the shop at least once a week. He began to find himself getting up earlier and earlier each day just so he could stay and talk with you for longer. The physical attraction was instant from the first moment he saw you, but now that he was truly getting to know you he was falling and falling fast. You had this light about you that Spencer couldn't put into words, even with his impressive vocabulary.

Reid’s highly observant coworkers were quick to notice his frequent morning donut runs. He never ate them at the shop, choosing to use that time to visit with you. Instead, he waited until he got to the office so he could enjoy the sweet goodness with his daily cup of coffee. And today was no exception.

“All those donuts are going to catch up with you one day, Reid,” Prentiss teased. “You can't be skinny forever.”

“So be it. She's worth it,” replied Spencer, taking another bite, sprinkles falling onto the napkin he’d placed on his desk.

“She?” Morgan raised his brows, a grin spreading across his face as he turned in his chair to face the young doctor.

Spencer’s eyes widened and he nearly choked on his food, trying to figure out a way to take back his slip of the tongue. “I meant they. They’re worth it. The donuts.”

“Uh-huh. Sure. So what’s her name?”

Spencer sighed. “Yn.” That was all he said as he pulled his paperwork towards himself. No point in denying it when they were already certain.

“Woah, woah, you can't just leave it at that! Tell us about her. What's she like and how did you meet? Spill everything.”

Spencer merely took another bite of his donut, a smug smirk on his face for withholding the information his colleagues were so curious about.

For the rest of the day, Morgan and Prentiss attempted to convince Spencer to divulge his sweet secret. After another failed attempt, it finally hit Morgan, and he had to admit he felt very silly for it. He waited until Spencer left on his lunch break before he approached Emily’s desk.

“Hey, what’s up?” she asked.

“What’s up is that Hotch should probably reconsider our positions on the team,” he joked. “The donut bag. It’s in Reid’s personal mini trash can under his desk. All we have to do is look at it real quick and we’ll know exactly which shop he goes to!”

Emily laughed, amused how it took so long for one of them to think of that. “Then what are we waiting for? Let's go dig in the doctor’s trash.”

They both stood and went over to Spencer’s desk. Morgan reached under and pulled out the small trash can, plucking the crumpled bag from the top. As he flattened the bag back out, a voice startled the two of them and they spun around in unison, like two kids that had been caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

“Why are you two digging in the kid’s trash?”

“Reid has a girl in his life and if he wont tell us then we’re gonna find out ourselves. She’s either a regular at this place—” he held up the bag, displaying the logo for Rossi to see, “—or she works there.”

“Hm. I see. Carry on, then,” was all he said before continuing on his way.

The younger agents turned their attention back to what they were digging for. “Meche’s Donuts,” they both read aloud.

“Pretty sure that’s close to Reid’s place. Y’know, I think some donuts tomorrow morning would be great, don’t you?”

“Now that you say it, yeah, donuts would be good. Meet you there at 8:00?”

“You bet.” He recrumpled the bag and replaced the trash can as it was.

When Reid returned, he didn't notice the look his friends exchanged and was none the wiser.

–❀–

The next morning, both Emily and Derek got up earlier than usual and met in the parking lot of Meche’s. They approached the building, and Derek held open the door for Emily, the bell chiming to notify you of a customer’s arrival.

“Good morning!” you greeted like usual.

They returned your greeting as they neared the counter, both of their sights narrowing in on your name tag: Yn.

“Has a guy named Spencer Reid been here today?” Morgan asked, never one to beat around the bush.

“No, do you know him?” You asked curiously.

“Yeah, we’re friends of his. We noticed that his sweet tooth has been getting the better of him lately. Lots of donuts,” he smirked, gesturing down to the transparent display. “Pretty boy had a bit of a slip up and told us that it was because of a girl, but wouldn’t tell us anything else. So we decided to do a bit of sleuthing.”

“And here we are,” finished Emily. “I’m Agent Emily Prentiss and this is Agent Derek Morgan. Promise we’re not creeps, this is just the first time we’ve known him to have a crush on someone and we wanted to know what you looked like. He’s got good taste at least.”

You laughed good-naturedly, “Don't worry about it. We have a date scheduled for this weekend actually.”

Emily ooohed like a schoolgirl. “You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but I’m dying to know. What is Spencer’s idea of a date? Bet he takes you to a bookstore.”

“Or a foreign movie,” interjected Morgan. “With no subtitles, so he can whisper the translations in your ear.”

–❀–

Saturday

You were getting ready for your date with Spencer when you heard your phone ring. The caller ID told you that it was Spencer calling and butterflies erupted in your stomach.

“Hello?”

“Hey, I was just calling to let you know I’m on my way.”

“Ok, perfect! I’m almost done getting ready. You remember the address?”

He laughed. “Of course I remember. There’s not much I don’t remember.”

“Oh, my bad Dr. Reid. We can't all be super geniuses with an eidetic memory.”

The two of you talked and joked with each other until Spencer told you that he was parking and would be up in a moment to meet you at the door. All you had to do was quickly slip your shoes on and you were ready.

Three sharp raps sounded from the door, and you peeked through the peephole before unlocking the door and swinging it open.

He seemed stunned for a second, just taking in your appearance. “Wow,” was all he could think to say. “You look beautiful.”

“And you look very handsome,” you returned the compliment. And he did, as always. He was probably the only guy you knew who could pull off a sweater vest. He may dress like an old man, but damn did he make it work.

Turns out that he picked out some hole in the wall diner you’d never even heard of. But he swore by their food and claimed it was some of the best in town. Also that they made a mean bread pudding. A broad smile overtook his features when he saw your eyes light up at the mention of the dessert. He’d recalled from a previous conversation that it was your favorite and had made sure to choose a restaurant that had it on the dessert menu.

The meal was spent indulging in a lively conversation about all of your favorite books. He even suggested a book exchange; he’d load you his favorite, and you’d loan him yours. Though you did warn him that you might have to pick up a new copy first, as yours was particularly old and practically on the verge of disintegrating in your hands.

“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” he said.

“No, it is!” you insisted. “The last time I read it I looked down and there were a bunch of particles on my lap from the pages.”

After picking up the check at the diner, Spencer informed you that there was a movie he wanted to take you to. “It’s a Russian movie, and I’m not sure if there’s subtitles or not, but I can whisper the translations for you. But I definitely think you’ll enjoy the plot.”

You thought back to what Morgan said when he and Emily visited you. Morgan: 1, Emily: 0.

Turns out, there were, in fact, subtitles. However, Spencer claimed those weren't very accurate to the tone of the movie and chose to give you his own translations anyway. In order to not disturb other movie goers, he had to lean in to whisper, so close that his lips would occasionally brush the shell of your ear. If not for the fact you were already sitting, you thought your knees would have given out. The low timbre of his voice traveled straight from your eardrum all the way to your core. You tried to pay attention to the movie, you really did, but the gentle rasp of Spencer’s voice in your ear had you beyond distracted. He was so close. Between the close proximity and his voice, your panties were quickly becoming uncomfortably sticky which led you to squirm in your seat occasionally.

Spencer, the hyper-observant profiler that he was, noticed your pitiful attempts to adjust the way you were sitting. “Are you ok?” he asked, interrupting his translation mid sentence.

“Yes!” you answered hurriedly. “Yeah, I’m fine.” You cleared your throat nervously and hoped he would let it go. You could see a slight frown form on his face before it looked as if a metaphorical lightbulb went off over his head.

He resumed his position near your face, once again whispering to you, but not translations this time. No, this time it was as if a switch had flipped inside the sweet man you’d become so fond of. “If I didn't know any better, I’d say you like having me so close to you. Isn't that right, Yn?”

The way he whispered your name so sensually had your heart beating out of your chest and your breath hitching in response. His laughter came out as a huff, trying to stay quiet. “Think you can wait until the end of the movie?” he asked with a suggestive lilt to his words.

You both knew the answer, but you pretended to think about it in an effort to spare at least some of your dignity. “No,” you answered with your head down, almost ashamed at how easily Spencer had riled you up.

“‘No’ what? Use your words, sweetheart.”

To hell with your dignity. “No, I can't wait. I want you now.”

He grabbed your hand and pulled you up from your seat as he stood. He led you out the doors and to the parking lot, heading straight for his car.

“Where are we going?”

“My apartment.” he answered swiftly as he put his hand on the back of your seat to back out of the parking spot.

The ride to his apartment was spent mostly in silence, both of you tense for all the best reasons. At one of the red lights he’d made the bold move to relocate one of his hands from the steering wheel to your left thigh, rubbing his thumb back and forth and gently squeezing it every now and then. Every squeeze sent a bolt of electricity to your center and you were getting needier by the second.

–❀–

As soon as his apartment door shut behind him, his mouth was on yours, lips crashing together in a heated kiss. With both hands on either side of your face, he licked the seam of your lips impatiently, wanting nothing more than to taste you. You obliged, and his tongue snaked its way into your mouth, intertwining with yours. He groaned into the kiss, unable to get enough of you. Pulling away from your lips, he kissed down your jaw and neck slowly, deliberately. Taking his time to leave dark marks in his wake. He took a deep breath in through his nose. “You have no idea what this perfume was doing to me at the movie. Could barely even translate for you,” he mumbled into your skin.

“Bedroom?” you asked, near breathless with anticipation but not particularly wanting to get fucked in his entryway.

He led you through his apartment to his bedroom where Spencer wasted no time reconnecting his lips to yours, backing you up until the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed, prompting you to sit. Before you could lay down, his hands tugged on the hem of your shirt. “Let’s get this off of you, hm?”

He made quick work of the cloth and tossed it aside “God, you're so pretty. Lay down for me, sweetheart,” he said. You flushed and did as he told you, scooting yourself higher up on the bed before laying your head onto his pillows. He removed both his sweater vest and shirt before eagerly crawling atop you. He propped himself up on his elbows, his face aligned with yours. You impatiently leaned up to kiss him again, and you could feel him grinning into the harsh kiss before kissing you back. His hands wandered across your body, settling on your breasts. You moaned into his mouth and pressed your chest further into his large hands, your hips bucking up, seeking the friction you so desperately wanted.

He chuckled, removing his hands from your breasts to your hips and holding them down, preventing you from moving them and eliciting a whine from you. “Patience, sweetheart. I’ll take care of you. Promise.” His voice was low and gravelly, his lips pressed against the skin just under the skin of your earlobe. He suckled the skin lightly as one hand came up behind your back, unclasping your bra and giving it the same treatment he gave your shirt. He pulled back and groaned at the sight of seeing you half naked beneath him. This felt like a dream come true to Spencer and it was taking everything he had to not throw his inhibitions out the window and ravish you right that second.

He groped your bare chest for a moment before leaning down to lick a stripe between them. He placed feather-light kisses across your skin, his hair falling over his face and tickling you where it brushed. His trail of kisses led him to one of your nipples, which he took in his mouth, sucking lightly. You gasped when he used his teeth to pull on it slightly. “Spencer!”

While his mouth was busy with one, he had a hand on the other, tweaking the bud between his nimble fingers. You raked your hands through his hair, holding him in place. The tug on his roots had Spencer groaning into your chest and increasing the intensity of his ministrations and suckling you more and more fervently with each tug of his hair and sweet moan from your lips. Satisfied, he released your bud with a slight pop and switched to the other side, determined to make you squirm and beg for him before he touched you properly. The hand that wasn't on your breast lowered from your waist to your hip, massaging the supple flesh.

“Please, Spencer,” you begged, needing so much more than he was currently giving you. You were aching for him, panties soaked with evidence of your want.

He released your nipple and tilted his head to look at your face, both of your pupils blown wide with lust. He cooed at you, “What does my pretty girl need? Tell me, and it’s yours.”

“You!” you cried. “I want you! Please, Spencer!”

He groaned, the sound low and guttural. “You already have me. I was yours from the first moment I laid eyes on you.” Your eyes softened from his words, and you watched him as he tilted his head back down, tracing his nose down your abdomen as he lowered himself further down the bed, his hands caressing your sides as he did so. He placed a chaste kiss just above the waistband of your bottoms before hooking his fingers under it. “May I?”

You nodded frantically, and he placed another kiss in the same spot as he pulled your shorts and panties down together, tantalizingly slowly. Finally seeing you completely bare before him had him nearly cumming in his pants on the spot. You were so perfect and he wanted to make you feel so good that the only name you knew was his. He ran his hands up your thighs and settled his head between them. “You're absolutely dripping for me, sweetheart.” Spencer was practically panting from the lust flowing through his veins. He placed a chaste kiss to your clit before tentatively licking your cunt. You let out a strangled moan, his hot tongue not providing near enough pressure.

“Don’t tease me, Spence,” you mewled, your hands weakly trying to push his head back down where you needed him.

“Savoring, baby, not teasing. I don’t want to forget a single moment of this.” With that said, he licked a broad stripe across your pussy, much more confident than the first time. He wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked harshly, groaning into you. You cried out his name, grip on his hair tightening. “Fuck, you taste so good,” he said breathlessly before diving back in, slurping at you like a man starved. He hummed with bliss as he continued to eat you out, the vibrations adding to the stimulation. “So sweet, baby, oh my God,” he praised. He lifted your legs and placed them over his shoulders, pressing himself further into you as he wrapped his arms around your thighs.

It was all you could do to keep from screaming his name as he continued to lick and suck at the most intimate part of you. You thrashed in his hold, overwhelmed with the pleasure he was giving you. He tightened his hold on your thighs, holding you open so he could continue to drink you in. He swore he would never be able to get enough of you. If this was the last thing he ever did then he'd die a happy man.

“C’mon, sweetheart, cum on my face. Give it to me. I want it,” he grunted. Without warning, he plunged a finger into you, causing you to cry out. He added a second finger shortly after, and he relished in the way your walls were squeezing around his fingers. You were so close and it was all because of him. With his fingers thrusting in and out of you and his mouth on your clit, you were finally pushed over the edge, cumming with a scream of Spencer’s name. He didn't stop until you were practically shoving him away, the overstimulation becoming too much. His face was covered in your juices, and you watched with rapt attention as he licked his lips before wrapping them around the two digits still covered with your wetness, sucking them clean and groaning at the taste as he did it.

Yeah, Spencer Reid definitely had a sweet tooth.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid smut

798 notes · View notes