#consequence of sound ; ooc

[keshimasu]

I know anime tends to be somewhat less expressive due to translating needs, such rushed deadlines n all that

but mmmmm animators kinda went off here

[justashadetalkative]

Status

I know I’ve been making poor life choices when the Clemcy in my head is telling me to fix my fucking sleep schedule 😅

Anyway. Sorry for the radio silence! Caught some hyperfocus for a while, and I broke out of that but now I need to sort out things like uh. Sleep. And time management.

[mechahero]

//screw it. one complete vampire type entry for you :>

[starsmuserainbow]

I really need to be physically active in some form. I absolutely, zero, don't wanna, but I very much should try to stop things from getting worse in regards to my body.

Thus, I'm once again making the plan to do physical things, yet I at least 99% surely know that it's gonna go the same as always - I'll stick with it for a little bit, be very unsatisfied with the exhaustion and the no-result (or no visible one at least), and give up. Probably within days, maximum weeks. Ugh.

[saintobio]

LONG LIVE THE VILLAINESS !

amidst the tale of sweetest love and bitterest revenge, the fallen empress is cast back ten years into the past to correct her sins and avoid eternal damnation, even at the price of betraying her once husband, the very cause of her downfall.

♱ pairings. gojo satoru, fem!reader

♱ genre. enemies-to-lovers, period piece, medieval au

♱ tags. ooc, regression, crown prince!gojo, noble lady!reader, politics, classism, clan wars, religion (catholicism), misogyny, violence, war, rebellion, suggestive, smut, gore, double life, explicit language, more to be added

♱ notes. this fic draws heavy inspirations from the webnovel ‘sister, i am the queen in this life’ and manhwa of the same name. it’s basically a fanfic of that series bc i am obsessed with it :’D

♱ status. on-going (slow updates)

♱ SECOND TIMELINE TO AS YOU LIKE IT ♱

PROLOGUE.

ACT I. THE LADY

ACT II. THE CROWN PRINCE

ACT III. THE KNIGHT

ACT IV. THE STAR CROSSED LOVERS

ACT V. THE BLESSED

ACT VI. THE SIN

ACT VII. THE REVELATION

ACT VIII. THE ENEMY

ACT IX. THE LOVER

ACT X. THE EMPRESS

EPILOGUE.

PROLOGUE 

Like plunging beneath the surface of water and then, abruptly, breaking through to the air above—your body jolted as if awakening in a new world altogether. You drew in a long breath, your eyes fluttering open to reveal the ceiling, both familiar yet unfamiliar in its greeting. Swiftly, you surveyed your surroundings, noting with growing recognition the confines of your old room within the De Roma estate. The estate! 

You were not in the palace of Caelum, but in the estate of House De Roma. A surge of realization flooded through you as you dashed towards the nearest mirror, confronting your reflection with wide, startled eyes. 

No... could it be... that you have returned to your body, ten years prior?!

In the mirror, the reflection staring back at you was not that of the notorious wife of the tyrant Emperor Satoru, but of a 20-year-old maiden, the eldest daughter of Duke de Roma, with fuller cheeks and a more youthful appearance. You could not shake the feeling of disbelief, wondering if this was all just a dream, so you reached out to touch your arms and felt the flesh beneath your fingers, trying to convince yourself that this was an unexpected reality.

Oh, you were back. You found yourself returned to your former self, a decade younger, but now armed with the knowledge of your past life's actions and their consequences. Alongside this newfound understanding, the gift of clairvoyance had also been bestowed upon you.

And for what? Why had the heavens above returned you to your body? Was it for revenge, a second chance, or perhaps punishment?

Suddenly, a loud, deafening sound pierced your ears, and a blinding white light enveloped your vision. Your body became as still as a statue, and it felt as though your soul was transported to a fourth dimension where divine intervention seemed a lot more plausible to exist.

As your soul hovered in the liminal space between life and death, you found yourself standing before a figure cloaked in billowing robes, her presence commanding and her gaze piercing. This figure was Fortuna, the ancient Caelan goddess of fortune and fate, her visage austere and unforgiving.

“Are you aware of the sins that stain your soul?” 

“Have you felt the weight of your transgressions, the consequences of your actions that have wrought suffering upon your people and brought ruin to your empire?”

Her voice echoed through the realm with the divine judgment that weighed upon your conscience, while her gaze penetrated to the core of your being and demanded honesty and accountability in the face of your past misdeeds.

“Will you atone for your sins?” 

“Will you seize this opportunity for redemption, or will you squander it in self-pity and remorse?”

As you stood in the presence of the ancient goddess, grappling with the heaviness of your sins and the daunting task ahead, a brilliant light had all of a sudden illuminated the space around you. From the heart of this radiant glow emerged the figure of Archangel Raphael, his presence heralded by a chorus of angelical voices and the stirring of celestial winds.

Clad in robes that seemed to shimmer with the intensity of celestial light, Archangel Raphael's presence commanded attention, his wings unfurled behind him in a display of resolute authority. If Goddess Fortuna was intimidating, the archangel was fearsome all the more. His gaze, intense and penetrating, swept over you with a gravity that left no room for evasion or deceit.

“Empress of Caelum,” he spoke, his tone firm and unyielding, and his voice carrying a billion years of heavenly existence, “You stand accused of grievous sins, crimes that have shaken the very foundations of your empire and brought suffering upon your people.”

There was no trace of softness in Archangel Raphael's demeanor, no room for mercy in the face of wrongdoing. His presence was a testament to the uncompromising nature of divine justice, his strictness a reflection of the solemn duty entrusted to him as an Archangel of the Almighty. This, no doubt, was the face of a true and formidable executor of justice.

And you, the subject, had angered the divine beings that guarded the Caelan Empire, so much so that God himself sent the goddess of the land and one of his archangels to mitigate your rightful punishment.

“By the decree of the Almighty, you are granted a second chance to amend your sins and redeem your soul. You shall return to the mortal realm, to live your life anew and correct the sins that have stained your soul.”

“Should you fail to rectify your past transgressions, should you stray from the path of righteousness and succumb once more to the temptations of darkness, know that the consequences shall be severe and eternal.”

“For those who squander the gift of divine mercy shall be cast into the deepest depths of hell, where they shall endure a punishment of unending torment and suffering.”

In the presence of Archangel Raphael and Goddess Fortuna’s equally stern gazes, you were keenly aware of the magnitude of your transgressions and the severity of the judgment that awaited you. But even as you trembled beneath the weight of their scrutiny, you knew that their presence also offered you the opportunity for redemption, with your only task to prove yourself worthy of divine mercy.

Indeed, it was by your very hands that hundreds and thousands of Christian souls shed their blood. Innocent lives, both young and old, were cruelly taken at your command. The citizens of Caelum who fell sick from the spread of the plague. The esteemed Caelan advisors of your husband’s primogenitors, skinned alive and speared in pikes by the Tiber River. The wrongly accused maid who suffered the indignity of serving your husband, paraded unclothed through the streets and subjected to the brutality of the pear of anguish. The gallant and dignified knight, tortured mentally and physically in the atrocious dungeon. Now, you find yourself thrust back into the horrors of your former life ten years hence. A life of a noble lady who ought not to be blinded by her destructive love for the empire’s crown prince. 

Yet, could you truly navigate this life without ascending to the position as his empress?

As you tried to commune with the divine beings afore you, a haze in your vision transported you away from the heavenly space, realizing that you were already drawn back into the reality of your chamber, inhabiting the youthful frame of a twenty-year-old daughter of a duke. You found yourself too astonished to move, too shaken to speak, and too afraid to take any action in this new lease of life blessed upon you. At that very moment, your state of reverie was disrupted at the arrival of your maid, who entered your chamber in a humble servant garb.

Milena. The maid whose life was cut short by your hand in your past existence due to petty thievery. “My lady,” she spoke with a hint of respect and urgency, unaware of the ill-fate you had given her in your past life, “A visitor has arrived at the gates and requests an audience with you. Shall I show them in?” 

Too soon? Need it truly be so soon to engage with the people from your past life immediately after awakening to your old, yet younger body? Gazing upon your maid through the mirror, you asked, “Who is that intruder you speak of?” 

She bowed her head, her stance shifting into one of apologetic deference. The way she firmly stood by your door was a message to you that the intruder was not someone you could easily reject the presence of.

“The visitor is His Highness, Crown Prince Satoru.” 

���⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶♱⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

[readngandweepng]

needed to put my thoughts on paper about screwing daisuke or curly in the main lobby + some tidbits (pre-crash)

MDNI gn amab top reader, bottom character. can honestly be any of them i guess?? but i wrote this with curly and daisuke in mind lmao. basically just a horny post about same-room sex. half proof-read and probably ooc

imagine fucking him while he’s either sitting on the kitchen counter or laid against the table when everyone’s sound asleep in their respective cabins. he’s hiding his face in the crook of your neck where you can feel his warm breath against your skin as he’s trying oh so hard to keep his volume down. his hands clutch the back of your shirt so tightly you think he’s going to tear it. he bucks his hips, sending a shake bolting through his body. the moan it erupts is muffled by your neck, as are the rest of them. with your fast fucking he has to take a deep breath before hiking a leg up over your waist, angling your cock just a little bit deeper inside of him where he needs you most. the fear of getting caught has dwindled down, too distracted by the feeling of you pounding into him to even give it a second thought. all he can do is hook his legs around your waist and take your cock. he slaps a hand over his mouth to keep his moans repressed as he arches his back and cums. your cum filling him up is almost rejuvenating, and suddenly the consequences of getting caught means absolutely nothing as he rocks into you, his legs around your waist keeping you, and your cock, perfectly in place.

both daisuke and curly would really enjoy the humiliation aspect of something like this. actually getting caught would be absolutely mortifying, but if you were to successfully have sex in the kitchen or on one of the couches without anyone knowing or catching you? say goodbye to your dick because it's curly's now. it wouldn't be an insanely common thing between you two, but i do think that he would secretly be kind of in love with it. daisuke would enjoy it but i don't see him as too much of the exhibitionist type; he prefers getting caught being lovey-dovey.

curly definitely has a rebellious side, and if he was feeling frisky enough he'd lean against one of the kitchen counters while daisuke and swansea were at the dining table, bending over just enough to catch your eye. he might even brush himself against your crotch when passing by, but it wouldn't be noticeable to anyone other than you or someone actively looking for it.

though i don't think daisuke would be forward like that in public, (the most he'll do is give you kisses or sit in your lap while he's playing) he wouldn't mind if you kissed up his neck while he's playing sorry! or rifling in the kitchen for something to eat. swansea would scold you and it would make his face red, but he does enjoy the little thrill he gets out of someone catching you sneak kisses.

(i'm not entirely sure what their sleeping quarters entail, like if there's bunk beds and everyone sleeps in the same room) but in this case that is the set-up, and neither daisuke nor curly would be opposed to riding you on your bed while everyone else is asleep.

daisuke is like a bunny, riding you too fast for his own good until the creaking of the bed forces him to slow down. really, if you actually want to get caught this is the best way to do it, but to ensure there's some kind of dignity left, sitting up and controlling his speed while he has something stuffed in his mouth to keep him from whining is the way to go. otherwise he won't have the self-control to cover his own mouth where your hands are too far away to cover it for him before he wakes everyone up.

riding you is definitely one of curly's favorite things to do, so he would be great at it, even in a situation where you have to be quiet. he'd like leaning over and kissing you with his hands by your head and your arms wrapped around him. the main concern here is having the self-control to not buck your hips up into him, yet your feet are still planted flat on the bed, just in case. he's not the worst at being quiet, so why not make things exciting?

daisuke would love sneaking into bed with you, even if it really is just so sleep. he loves having his back flush against your chest as your hand goes down the front of his pants to stroke him. sometimes he'll just rock into your hand until he cums, and sometimes he'll take off his pants and slip your cock inside, rutting back against you until you push him down onto his stomach and take him. you have to be careful with daisuke because he's noisy, and if you can't tire him out he'll just ask you for more, and by that point the whole crew will know what you've been up to at night (as if they don't already know).

curly, depending on the circumstances, can a lot of the time be the one to start it. playing it off by giving you kisses on the corner of your lips and acting like it's just to send you off to sleep. but then he'll move his lips down to your jaw, and to your neck. you'll feel his hand palm at you through your pants, but if you try touching him he'll shush you, taking your cock out and stroking it painfully slow. you can kiss him, but then he won't throw the blanket over his head and mouth at your dick to slip it down his throat.

ftm!curly would adore having you eat him out under the covers. the feeling of your fingers curling inside of him is intoxicating, and having to keep his voice down and his breathing even just adds to the pleasure he feels. curly is good at keeping his volume down until you start sucking on his clit, then he has to turn his head and pull the pillow over his mouth to quiet himself. he bucks into your tongue a lot because even though he won't outright admit it, he revels in the thought that others might hear how wet you make him.

ftm!curly, if he's feeling too shy, likes when you fuck his thighs, being perfectly content with your cock grazing his cunt. he'll tweak his nipples and watch your dick being sandwiched by his thighs. if he doesn't cum, he's not opposed to finishing things quickly and having you just rub his clit while you kiss and nip at his chest.

ftm!daisuke also loves being eaten out but he's not as good at being quiet, so he'd prefer being fingered where the pleasure being inflicted upon him isn't as overwhelming and direct. he likes when you slowly drag your fingers in and out, spreading him open little by little while thumbing his clit every now and then. he gets very wet very fast, so being under the covers is ideal to drown out the sounds his cunt makes, especially when you begin to speed up and his thighs clamp around your hand because the feeling is too much.

ftm!daisuke loves dry-humping too, and he cums a lot quieter. he'd like having you hold him as he rides your thigh, clothed or not. daisuke also would love to feel the head of your cock rubbing against his pussy, teasing his entrance. absolutely can cum from just your dick gently slapping against his clit.

these thoughts honestly spawned from the very minute i saw the bedrolls on the ground in the lobby. i'm not even a horn-dog but one of my first thoughts was damn imagine fucking there so now here is this post to finally relinquish weeks of 'what-if-'s and 'i-would-totally-'s. i am really into the whole having sex with the chance of getting caught but would hate actually getting caught thing if you couldn't tell lmao.

[toruskiii]

MR. TELEPHONE MAN!

"𝘔𝘳. 𝘛𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦'𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦! 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺'𝘴 𝘯𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳, 𝘐 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘢 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦!"

Synopsis: Pick up, pick up, pick up— still no answer. Desperately trying to reach you after your argument, Boothill finds himself repeatedly directed to the operator's automated voicemail. 'Please hang up and try again, baby.' Genre: Comfort, fluff Character: Boothill x gn!reader Warnings: Established relationship, mentions of Dan Heng, a little strayed from canon events maybe, slightly ooc, mentions of prior argument, slight angst if you squint, half of the fic is just Boothill and Dan Heng having a heart to heart bro talk lol [masterlist] [about me]

Boothill cursed himself silently, though as vigorously as he could manage since his synesthesia beacon was malfunctioning. Walking briskly around the Parlor car, phone gripped tightly in hand, he couldn't escape the relentless sound of the dial tone on repeat. Meanwhile, Dan Heng observed him with a quizzical expression, one brow arched in curiosity.

Witnessing Boothill in such evident distress was a rare sight for Dan Heng. The ranger typically exuded an aura of nonchalant confidence, often adopting a "fudge it, we ball" attitude towards life's challenges. Consequences were either dealt with head-on or circumvented through sheer audacity.

Reckless. Yes, that word seemed to define him perfectly. And perhaps that's why he was so visibly agitated now. Boothill's thumb hovered over the name 'sweetcheeks' on his phone, a term that made Dan Heng cringe inwardly, yet he dismissed it knowing it was a manifestation of love.

"May I inquire as to your purpose for boarding the Astral Express today? If your intention is merely to cause a disturbance, I suggest you reconsider," Dan Heng stated firmly, crossing his arms and adopting his usual stoic expression, his brow arching slightly. While he and the other nameless welcomed all aboard the Express with open arms, Boothill remained a figure of caution, especially given recent events, despite the significant assistance he had provided.

"What? Ain't you the one who said I could drop by anytime?" Boothill retorted, his frown deepening as he clicked his tongue disapprovingly. His attention flickered momentarily to his vibrating phone before returning with disappointment when he heard the all-too-familiar phrase that had been echoing for the past half-hour. "Sorry, please hang up and call again."

"I never made such a claim," Dan Heng countered, a faint hint of amusement dancing in his narrowed eyes as he observed the disgruntled expression on Boothill's face. "Apart from the conductor, Pom Pom, none of my colleagues have had the pleasure of meeting you. It would be prudent for you to acquaint yourself with them before boarding."

Boothill let out a derisive snort, his thumb instinctively jabbing at the 'dial again' button as he locked eyes with Dan Heng. "Aw, come on now. The conductor already gave me the green light. Ain't that sufficient? And you, you actin' like a youngster. Do I gotta meet your folks before I can come over and play?"

Instantly, Boothill regretted his words, his lips forming a tight line as he realized he had overstepped. "Well, shoot. My apologies," he conceded, his voice softened with regret as he retrieved his hat and made his way to the nearest couch, slumping down with a heavy sigh. This was his perpetual dilemma— he was too forthright, too bold with his language. His words spilled out before he could filter them.

Boothill was baffled by his own behavior. Apologizing to strangers or mere acquaintances came naturally to him, the words slipping out effortlessly, whether they were genuine or not. But when it came to you, it was as if his internal wiring malfunctioned. His mechanical body buzzed with static, sparks dancing erratically, and his words emerged in a tangled mess. The simple phrases— "I love you" or "I'm sorry"— seemed trapped behind a barricade, struggling to find their way past his lips.

"Forget it," Dan Heng sighed, striding over to the dejected figure slumped on the couch. "But do enlighten me as to why you're here just to make a phone call, presumably to your significant other? Is it a must to reach them while aboard the Express?"

Boothill simply shrugged, emitting a grunt of frustration before pulling his hat down over his face, a gesture of defeat. "There ain't no signal anywhere else, I reckon. Figured your train might lend me a hand, even just a tad."

As the number continued to ring with no response from you, Boothill finally opened up, his voice softening as he admitted, "Got into a spat with my partner."

With those words, he began to dismantle the barriers surrounding his emotions, allowing them to spill forth within the confines of the Express. Dan Heng listened attentively, offering a supportive presence to the troubled man.

Boothill couldn't shake the feeling of remorse gnawing at him. He knew he had deeply upset you this time, and he had no one to blame but himself. Who wouldn't be hurt if their own partner hurled insults at them, especially when all they wanted was to show care and concern? Boothill couldn't help but imagine how he would feel if the roles were reversed, and the mere thought made his stomach churn.

"I think I really got under their skin— no doubt about it," he muttered to himself, replaying the scene in his mind where you were left with a furrowed brow and glistening tears threatening to spill. In that moment of frustration, he couldn't fathom why you would bother caring about him. After all, he was no longer flesh and blood; he was encased in metal, his heart silent, and his tear ducts dry.

He couldn't feel pain or sorrow like he used to. So why should you waste your concern on someone who couldn't be harmed or hurt? He couldn't feel anything beyond his face. There was no need for you to worry about him getting into trouble or getting hurt, because he wouldn't feel it.

It was a selfish thought, he admitted, yet at the same time, it wasn't. After all, you were human— a fragile being whose existence could be snuffed out in an instant— while he remained invulnerable. So why waste your energy worrying about him, when he should be the one worrying about you?

As Boothill drowned in his sorrows, his metal hand tapping incessantly on his phone in a desperate attempt to reach you, Dan Heng listened intently, a somber hum escaping his lips as he nodded along.

'Sorry, please hang up and call again.'

Well, fork me.

"Have you apologized?"

"I want to," Boothill admitted, his brows furrowing with guilt. He mulled over various ways he could make it up to you without actually uttering those two crucial words—an apology. Perhaps he could buy you your favorite cake, shower you with affectionate kisses until you couldn't help but giggle, and lavish you with words of admiration.

"That sounds more like a birthday celebration, Boothill. It would be selfish and ignorant of you to avoid apologizing," Dan Heng interjected, cutting through Boothill's thoughts with a firm reminder.

"But— But it's dang near impossible to say those words!" Boothill groaned, frustration evident in his voice as he sat upright on the couch, dialing your number once more, silently pleading for you to answer. "It's like pulling teeth."

"And that's precisely the issue you need to address," Dan Heng replied firmly, his gaze unwavering.

The Ranger slumped back, averting his eyes and releasing a heavy sigh of defeat. "…What do you suggest I do, then?"

"Apologize."

"…you—alright. Fine."

"But apologize like you actually mean it, not just because you have to."

As Dan Heng's words sank in, Boothill felt a sudden jolt of realization. Apologize like he meant it— not just because it was expected of him. The gravity of those words hit him like a ton of bricks, causing him to freeze in place, his wide eyes meeting Dan Heng's steady gaze.

With a nod and an encouraging thumbs up from Dan Heng, Boothill was left to ponder his next move in solitude. Did he truly mean it, this apology? Absolutely. It shouldn't be so difficult to utter those words, right?

His thoughts were interrupted by the familiar automated message playing once more: "Sorry, please hang up and call again, baby."

A small gasp escaped Boothill's lips as he jolted upright, his hands trembling as he fumbled with his phone. Could it be? Was it really you on the other end? "W-wait—! Darlin'? Sweetcheeks? Is that really you?" he stammered, lifting the phone to his ear and pacing in circles, heart pounding with anticipation.

"Forgot my voice already?" Your retort hit Boothill like a punch to the gut, and he could almost see the frown forming on your face. He let out a noise of frustration, his head bowed as he nervously fiddled with the hem of his jacket, rendered momentarily speechless. "Erm— nah. How could I?"

If he still possessed skin and flesh, Boothill was certain his palms would be sweating profusely right now. A man who had faced countless bounties on his head, vanquishing his enemies with a flick of his gun, and executing daring escapes from perilous heights— now reduced to a speechless fool at the mere sound of his lover's voice.

"I, uh… I wanted to talk to you," he finally managed to breathe out, his voice laced with uncertainty. He could almost hear the slight scoff on the other end of the line, a sound that made his heart ache with regret.

"About what? I don't think there's much to talk about after the tantrum you threw at me," your voice came through, laced with a hint of bitterness. Were you being immature? Perhaps. But you had every right to be upset, every right to be salty.

Boothill swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper as he stumbled over his words, the apology he wanted to offer caught in his throat. "I- uh, um…" He cursed inwardly, his free hand nervously tugging at a few strands of his hair in a panic.

Darn it, why didn't he ask Dan Heng when the Express would reach the planet where you resided?

"I wanted to say that I…I'm so—" He groaned in frustration, slapping his hand against his face as he gritted his teeth in irritation. Why was it so blasted difficult to express himself? "I-I'm sorry, darlin'. Truly, I am."

The silence from your end only intensified Boothill's nerves, sending a wave of panic coursing through him. Was this it? Were you going to leave him, leaving him to wander aimlessly without a home once more? "Please, sweetheart. I'm pourin' my heart out here," he pleaded softly, his voice trembling with genuine sincerity.

He listened intently, straining to hear any sign of your response. From the muffled sounds of sheets rustling, he could only guess that you might be on the verge of tears again, and it tore at his nonexistent heart. "I'm sorry for…for yellin' and such. I was actin' selfish and ignorant, and I know that was wrong of me," he confessed, his cheeks burning with embarrassment and guilt as he cast his gaze downward.

Desperation clawed at him, the longing for your touch, the warmth of your presence beside him each morning, the comfort of your embrace— it all flooded his senses. He yearned for a home to return to, a sanctuary where he could find solace in your love once more.

"I'll make it up to you, I swear," Boothill vowed earnestly, feeling a spark of hope ignite within him.

He heard a quiet sigh escape your lips, and he squirmed with anticipation, eagerly awaiting your response.

"You've got 10 minutes to get your ass back into our home, right this instant," you blurted out, attempting to inject a joking tone into your words, but Boothill could detect the slight tremor in your voice.

His heart soared with relief and joy at your words. "Alright— okay, I'll be there. Just let me ask Dan Heng when we'll be arriving, alright?" he replied eagerly, his demeanor brightening considerably. This was his chance to make things right, to rebuild what he had almost shattered. He wasn't about to let it slip through his fingers.

As Boothill's metal boots echoed through the halls of the Express, his heart lightened at the sound of your voice. "I miss you," you confessed, the sniffle in your tone tugging at his wired heartstrings.

A chuckle escaped him, his hand reaching for the doorknob that led to Dan Heng's room. "I missed you too, sweetcheeks. I'll make it up to you, I swear on my bounty," he promised, determination lacing his words.

He could sense the relief in your giggle as you bid him goodbye and hung up, prompting him to knock on Dan Heng's door. "Yo, bro! When we makin' a stop at my planet?"

"We're not," Dan Heng's muffled voice responded, causing Boothill to freeze in his tracks. "We're stopping at Penacony to go to The Reverie to pick up my colleagues."

"…We're what."

[almostempty]

self esteem part 4 - the more you suffer (joel x f!reader)

wc: 12.1k | masterlist | rating: 18+ | read on ao3 |

part 1 ⎯ part 2 ⎯ part 3 ⎯

hey y’all, it’s me back with more farm-to-table Joel smut. Took a while to figure this one out, but I hope you’re hungry horny bc it’s lengthy and full o’ fuckin’.

summary: Date Night Dave is back by popular demand, and fuckboy Joel finally experiences a consequence??? 

warnings/tags: fuckboy!Joel, gratuitous smut, pwp, alcohol use, unprotected piv sex (that has no physical consequences bc it’s fiction and I like it that way), oral sex, public blow job, cock warming in a car, reoccuring guest appearance by dom!dave, date night dave inspo from the cartier campaign bc that's rich dave right??? au/ooc dave york is single/rich/mysterious and down to clown, jealous!joel, soft!joel, cuck!joel, jorkin’!joel, some angsty bits, no use of y/n, voyeur/exhibitionistish, light d/s dynamics, light (?) degradation/humiliation, praise kink, AU modern/no outbreak, overall just a lot of sex with some feelings in between, no beta blame all mistakes on me/adhd/insomnia 

a/n: please leave feedback! Tell me all ur thots! 

thanks: to everyone who has read parts 1-3, that means the world to me 

Dedicated to @gothcsz for the punishment inspo and @auteurdelabre for encouraging my delusions , and @strangergraphics for dividers

All I can fuckin’ think about. 

It’s like it was a curse, not a confession. Joel’s voice plays on a loop in your mind. For days. You hear it when you wake up, against your will. It’s a reflex at this point. You hear it when your mind drifts at work, when Katie blathers on about who knows what on your brunch date, and it gets loudest at night when you can’t sleep. It repeats and repeats and repeats. Taunting you, describing you, mocking you. Leading you on. 

Occasionally, you play the tape all the way through. Finishing the rest of the scene. Starting with 'All I can fuckin’ think about' all the way up to when that coward skipped out the door at the first glimpse of that thread connecting you. The first sign of something laced with vulnerability. 

Every minute that passes since you’ve been cursed with Joel Miller’s enigmatic mid-coitus confession is torture. Slow, painful, agony. Time drags so excruciatingly slowly that you feel like months have passed, but it’s only been three days since you were cursed with this affliction when you get a text. Well, it’s practically a fucking email. A business memo. 

Dave: Hey, I wanted to follow up. I enjoyed our date and would love to see you again. I’m out of town for the next 72 hours, but I’d like to take you out for drinks again when I return. I can pick you up again Thursday night, same time? Or, if you’d rather, I’ll be available earlier in the evening on Friday. If you’d like to do dinner. 

Dave: I’ll be honest, though; I’d prefer to see you sooner than later. 

Holy shit. 

You reread the message at least three times as you sink onto your sofa. Your stomach flips at his second message, before you start trying to pick it apart, anyway.

It’s almost too…formal? Cordial? Maybe you’re just used to only getting cryptic sentence fragments from Joel, who texts like he’s rocking a Nokia 3310. Because it’s also so direct. Dave is not afraid to communicate clearly and express his interest in you. It’s not overtly sexual, but not nonchalant, Goldilocks approves. 

You grin at the phone in your hand, and your gaze veers off until you’re staring at the wall, projecting the replay of your date with Dave like a movie at the drive-in. His mouth grazing your ear as he murmured filthy thoughts to you at the table, his fingers skating up your thigh, the taste of his cock sliding along your tongue, and the sounds that started from deep in his chest before he came down your throat. 

It’s not like Dave wasn’t memorable, but damn, you had been wallowing in your feelings over Joel like it was your full-time job. Fuck that. Dave is a welcome distraction. You agree to drinks and let him know you’re looking forward to seeing him, before swapping to your text thread with Katie. 

You: is it just because the bar is in hell for men, or is it appropriate for my pussy to flood over a man with a plan??? 

Katie: Can it be both? 

Katie: Oh my god

Katie: PLEASE tell me it’s the bathroom blowjob guy

Katie: Is he planning a second date? 

Katie: I told you! Green flags! 

You: maybe 🙃

……..

Knowing you have a date to look forward to eases the sting. The memory of Joel walking out the door. You can still hear his fucking bedroom voice in your ear, but the chokehold loosens slightly. You fill the next couple of days with anything and everything to make the time pass faster. Too busy to have the time to check your phone or, worse, text Joel. 

Dave continues to be everything Joel isn’t. Communicative, confirming your plans the morning of, punctual, pulling up precisely on time, and a gentleman greeting you with a compliment and opening the car door for you. You know you've let the demented demons within you get a little too comfortable when the green flags almost give you the ick. Katie’s voice echoes in your ears, and you suck it up.

It turns out Distraction Dave is just as hot as you remember–even without a jealous Joel-shaped ogre stirring your loins from across the room. He exudes a debonair charm with his tailored, quiet luxury brand look. You feel a wave of insecurity lurch in your chest before you realize he’s got you on his arm like you’re a designer accessory. He’s pleased to be seen with you as he guides you to your table in the dimly lit jazz-style lounge. It puts you at ease when he takes the lead in making decisions. 

The cocktails are strong, but you’ve only had a few sips before. It’s Dave who has you feeling warm in the face. He’s flirty but doesn’t push. He doesn’t assume you will get handsy under the table again. In your twisted brain, that only emboldens you to make a move. He’s still talking, but you aren’t really listening, distracted by his neck and lips and how close you are to each other. 

Close enough that it’s no stretch to slide your hand from your lap to his. You drag your hand slowly, up up up. When the corner of his mouth curls into a smirk, you feel your pulse jump. The atmosphere fades, and the noise blurs as your senses lock onto him. Dave’s brow twitches just before his hand covers yours. 

“There she is,” his smile is devilishly handsome with a dark glint in his eyes, “my dirty girl.” His voice, his words, and the heat of his hand sprinkle horny fairy dust over you. “Thought about you all week,” he confesses. 

All I can fuckin’ think about. 

You swallow your intrusive Joel-voiced thought. Flush it away into the sewer. 

“Me?” you ask coyly, batting your lashes. He hums, affirming. His hand squeezes yours, and heat starts to pool between your legs. “What about me?” your eyes have a sparkle in them as you sip your drink. He leans closer to you, nose grazing the soft skin behind your ear, and your eyes flutter shut. 

“Thought about your pretty face,” he tips your chin towards him with his free hand, so close he’s all you can see. “Thought about these lips,” he gently kisses you, retreating before you can escalate the intensity. You pout at the distance when he draws back and smirks at your needy expression. “Thought I might not hear back from you with how distracted you were by your not-ex not-stalking you last time.” 

An ache flares in your heart before you drown it with irritation. Garbled words stick in your throat. Something sharp and defensive tries to slash through, but Dave continues, unbothered before you can get anything out of your mouth. 

“Mostly,” his crisp, rich scent washes over you as he dips into dot kisses up your neck, dissolving your defenses. His warm breath tickles your ear as he husks in a low tone, “I thought about how this greedy throat felt trying to swallow my cock,” his fingers wrap around your neck for emphasis, and he feels your quiet whimper of a response. 

Your cheeks burn. He claims your lips with a hungry kiss that has your moans vibrating in your throat beneath his hand. It’s urgent and needy how your tongues, teeth, and lips collide. When his other hand finally releases yours, and he possessively cups either side of your jaw in his large palms, you’re lost momentarily. Consumed by the sensation of Dave’s tongue sliding against yours and the desire to crawl into his lap and straddle him here in the booth. 

You shove away the thought of Joel that flashes through your mind and double down on your desire for Dave. You bite sharply at his bottom lip, roughly knocking your faces together as you press your body into his, demanding more intensity as you make out.

When you break apart, you feel the crazed expression on your face as you smirk at the man in front of you. “I’ll give you more to think about,” you say more breathlessly than you intended, but the message is still clear. 

You dive back in, licking a hot stripe up his neck and biting at his earlobe. Your hand is back on task, groping for Dave’s thick erection when he stops you again. He tugs your hand away, and you huff. 

Dave laughs, enjoying the frustration on your features as he tucks your hair back behind your ear. He’s rudely composed while you’re on fire. 

“Finish your drink,” he tilts his head towards the antique glass in front of you. You down the rest in an impolite gulp, wiping at the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand. Dave shakes his head softly, a mix of mild disbelief and something headier. “That’s a good girl,” he acquiesces you for following his direction with gusto. 

His praise drips over you like warm honey, easing the confusion you felt at his rejection of your touch. He answers your unspoken question, “We can stay here, dirty girl, but I’d prefer to take you home so I can get my mouth on you this time.” The close quarters in the booth have you nearly nose to nose. A smirk spreads across his face when your lips part at his proposal. 

“Let’s go,” you respond quickly, it’s an easy decision. 

He takes you to his condo nearby. It’s modern, masculine, and decorated but not very revealing of anything more personal about him. He wastes no time leading you to the bedroom, and you’re just as eager to get him into bed. 

But when your impatient hands start tugging at his clothes, he grips you harshly, fingertips digging into the flesh of your upper arms, pinning them to your sides, essentially immobilizing you as he holds you back. He has this look to him like he knows something that you don’t, and that’s enough to make you pause. 

“She’s hungry, hm?” it’s phrased like a question, but you don’t think he’s expecting a real answer. His eyes rove over you before he relaxes his grip. 

“Sit.” 

You obey without a thought, perching on the edge of the perfectly made bed before him. “That’s a good girl,” his voice has a raw edge to it, and the phrase shoots straight to your core. You fight to keep still, overwhelmed with the sudden need to please him and convinced he wants to see how closely you’ll follow his orders. 

Dave’s eyes are full of lust and something darker as he studies you, his presence looming, commanding, and teasing. “Look at you, ready for more.” His tone is mocking but coated with approval that tingles along your spine. He grabs your chin, lifting your face to meet his gaze again, “You liked the risk last time. Coming on my fingers under the table.” 

You nod, and he grants you a flash of a smile. It’s gorgeous but restrained and tampered back down. 

"And you liked being on your knees for me. You liked taking my cock down your throat, didn’t you?” 

You nod again, but his fingers dig into your cheeks slightly, a silent reprimand. His voice drops to a low growl, “Use your words.” Your eyes widen before you blink away the mixture of shock and thrill. 

"Yes,” you get the word out in a quietly, “I liked it," you manage to add a hint of confidence. 

The corner of his mouth twitches. Satisfaction flickers in his eyes. “Of course you did,” he strokes your cheek gently, “you did such a good job taking care of me last time.” His adoration flutters across your skin, spreading heat. “But it’s my turn now, isn’t it?” 

The wicked smirk on his face makes you feel lightheaded as he lowers himself in front of you. Your knees part reflexively to let him move closer. “That’s a good girl. Spread these legs for me,” he continues as he runs his hands along your smooth legs until he’s bunching up the bottom of your dress.

Without wasting a second, his mouth is on you, kissing the soft crease of your thighs and sucking an open mouth kiss over the damp fabric covering your core. His hands anchor your thighs, thumbs caressing your flesh in a mockery of tenderness as his mouth delivers a sinful symphony sucking at your skin, nipping at you in a way that makes your thighs tense beneath his grip and spewing dirty thoughts. 

“So wet for me,” he mutters as he raises in front of you, pulling you to stand so he can strip you bare. Your arms hang submissively by your sides as his hand moves slowly, down your jaw, wrapped around your throat, down your chest, pausing to marvel at the sight of your tits in his palms and how your mouth parts when he kneads them in his hands. 

You wonder if you should feel vulnerable as he proceeds with his inspection, but the precision of his movements keeps you lulled. Dave’s hand slips between your legs and his fingers trace the slick seam of your cunt. You can’t help the whiny groan you respond with as you strain to remain still for him. 

He snickers at your struggle, then makes it worse. “You’re dripping, you know that?” the mocking tone in his voice does something just right to you, “such a needy slut.” Oh. That has your thighs flexing, tightening around his hand as he continues to torture you, parting the lips of your pussy with his fingers, drawing circles too slowly. 

“Have to stop myself from bending you over now and fucking you hard and fast.” Your body floods with need at the idea, dripping around his fingers and causing your hips to jerk.

“Please,” you whisper. You figure it’s polite enough. 

"Ah, ah," he warns, pulling back. "I know you’d like that, dirty girl.” 

Yes! You consider spinning around and giving him your best tempting display, hoping he’ll give in, but he seems to be a step ahead. “Lay down. You’ll get what you want.” 

Dave has a wicked gleam in his eyes as you spread out across the bed for him. He’s deliberate when he gets between your legs, spreading them wide and skipping the teasing kisses this time. He drags his tongue from your entrance to your throbbing clit before his plush lips wrap around you. The suction and pressure are dizzying, and you fill the room with panting and moaning. 

Your hips chase his mouth as he uses his tongue expertly, alternating between lazy circles and sharp flicks. The pleasure builds as he works at you. His technique gradually becomes indelicate, using everything he’s got in a way that makes you feel wild. His nose nudges at your clit as he dips further down. He allows you to keep rolling your hips gently as you rock against his chin before he pulls back. 

"Look at you, already unraveling for me," he says, voice drenched in amusement. "So desperate. She wants it all, hm?"

“Yes,” you whine, and your moans keep flowing as the pressure coils tighter within you. 

“Good,” he asserts, “come for me.” It’s a demand that has you gasping when he punctuates it with his fingers plunging inside of you. If you weren’t so enraptured by the growing pleasure and his voice, you might nitpick the logistics of coming on command–but he gives you no room for debate. 

Persuasively compelling your orgasm to hit as his fingers fuck into you and he sucks your clit into his furnace of a mouth. He doesn’t relent. The intensity of his mouth and fingers overwhelms you through the violent flash of pleasure and remains consistent as you writhe and contract, coming back down to earth. 

He's working you back up before you can fully recover or process his praise. Coaxing you toward another peak, capitalizing on his command of your mind and body. Every flick of his tongue pushes you higher until you’re gripping at the bed to stay in place. 

The ache for release teeters on unbearable as Dave’s groan buzzes through you. You tremble, sticking to the sheets with the sweat of desperation. You’re not cognizant of how you’re pleading with Dave, “Yes, yes, yes!”

But just as you’re about to tip over the edge, he stops, sitting up. 

“Hey!” you’re on edge and disoriented. 

"On your hands and knees," he orders, rougher now. "I’ve had my fill."

Oh shit. 

You scramble to obey, face hot with frustration and need as you arch in presentation for him. His hands spread your cheeks so he can get a good, long look at the sight of your glossy, swollen cunt. 

"That’s good, dirty girl, so eager," he chuckles, lining himself up against your entrance, teasing you deliciously with the slightest stretch. "You want me to fuck you hard, don’t you?"

"Yes," you breathe, the word spilling out before you form a thought.

"That’s what I thought." He pushes inside you in one smooth, hard thrust, and you gasp as he fills you completely, stretching you wide. He pauses only long enough to feel your walls rippling with contractions around the length of him, confirming his prediction. “Yeah, knew this tight little cunt would take me so well.” 

You can only hum mindlessly in response before he sets a rough pace. Gripping firmly at your hips, he keeps you in place as he drives into you, grunting with the force as his hips smack against your ass, adding more lewd noise to the moans and single-syllable words you cry out. 

You’re slipping away in the feeling of him pounding into you from behind. So mindless as your body bounces off of him that, for a split second, your tortured mind drifts to Joel. Joel’s voice and his filthy mouth, how he always gets you to beg for more.  You tense up, eyes wide, hoping you haven’t said his name in your stupor.  

Mercifully, Dave doesn’t seem to react. He continues at the same pace until his hand slides up your spine, gripping the back of your neck as he knocks your legs wider with his, angling you lower and thrusting even deeper inside of you. It’s a sharp, blinding need to come that possesses you. 

“Don’t stop,” you plead between gasping breaths.  

He gives you a slap for that. The sting has your eyes nearly rolling back like a caricature. Dave is launched closer to his own release because of your desperation, your ass jiggling, and his view of his cock disappearing inside of you over and over in time with your moans. 

He gives you exactly what you need as you shift, letting your weight fall into your shoulders so you can snake your hand back to swirl your fingers over your clit with precision, quickly bringing yourself to the peak. You fall apart around him as he grips your hips forcefully, using you as he needs while waves of pleasure debilitate you. 

He doesn’t slow down, pounding into you until his own release verges on crashing into him, and with a low, strained sound, he pulls out. The wet sounds of his fist are drowned out by the groan you both make as you collapse without his support, and he comes across your ass and lower back.

For a moment, neither of you moves, both panting as you come down from the high. Then, with a satisfied hum, he leans down and presses a soft, almost tender kiss to your shoulder. "Good girl," he murmurs, a soothing balm after the intensity. And, when he returns with a warm washcloth to clean you up, you feel glowy and drunk in his bed. 

Dave drives you home, at your request, and walks you to your door like a gentleman. He repeats that he would be happy to see you again.

 And he does. 

You both get what you want out of the arrangement. Neither of you wants a relationship and has an interest in an emotional connection. Dave isn’t always available, but he’s communicative and arranges to pick you up once or twice a week when he’s free. 

He always offers to take you for drinks or dinner at his favorite spots. Some nights, you just ask him to take you straight to his perfectly made bed. The nights you desperately need him to fuck Joel’s voice out of your head. 

It works, for the most part, as the weeks pass. Katie rolls her eyes at you when you claim you prefer your weekly dick appointments to a real relationship, but her judgment fades when you give her a juicy detail or two about the things Dave says to you in bed. You’re grateful to have an easy out to redirect her because you don’t feel strong enough to let her see the festering wound in your chest, still refusing to let go of Joel. 

Most days, it’s dull enough to manage. It’s more of a cruel joke when you hear Joel’s voice in your head first thing upon waking. When your phone buzzes and your heart stutters, you laugh bitterly at yourself for thinking it could be that stubborn asshole. It’s never him. You don’t hear from him. You don’t reach out. You consider blocking him altogether but can’t bring yourself to do it. You don’t see him on any nights out with Katie. 

You bite your tongue when you see Tommy at another karaoke night. You can’t ask about Joel, nobody knew you had been seeing each other, if that’s what you could even call it. You strategically keep yourself on the opposite end of the table from Tommy, hoping to stay out of earshot if he mentions the man haunting your thoughts. 

But as you drink your feelings one after another, they evolve. Anger swirls as you think of texting Joel and calling him out for being a gutless wonder. You pull out your phone and open your messages, rereading the last text from him. 

Joel: Miss me? 

Out of context, the two words trip you up momentarily. Even though you’ve reread them more times than you’d like to admit. And replayed that night more than you can stand. You don’t type anything to him. Your anger still burns in your gut. 

You attempt to engage with your friends, but it’s all for show. You can’t stop glancing towards Tommy, the door, or your phone. Your anger converts into something you can’t escape. 

After one more drink, your vision keeps getting blurry, not exactly from the booze. 

You try to blink back the tears in your waterline, excusing yourself from the group and dashing for the bathroom. Something messy and hurt and possesses you. Destabilizing you entirely as you feel yourself breaking down.

Weaving between bodies until you’re slamming into a stall and collapsing into a wobbly-limbed mess. Ugly sobs rip through your diaphragm, stirring up the most vulnerable fears and a cruel internal voice. Why are you hung up on someone that treated you like shit? You think it’s what you deserve? You can’t even move on? You still can’t stand up for yourself? 

Someone else enters the bathroom, and you try to hold yourself together, but they catch your sobs and ask if you’re alright. You do your best to assure the stranger that you’re okay. 

“If he makes you feel like that, he ain’t worth it, hon’,” she offers before leaving you with your thoughts in the bathroom. 

You know she meant it to be helpful, but it knocks you deeper into your feelings. You’re upset, and for what? Does he even care? Has he actually thought of you even once? He isn’t worth it. He isn’t worth it, and you still can’t stop the tears pathetically streaming down your face. It hurts even worse to know you shouldn’t care. 

You stand up, and your head spins, not just from the emotional agony but from the alcohol. When you not-so-gracefully emerge and see yourself in the mirror, you nearly lock yourself back in the stall and vow to live here now. You can’t return to the table with your eyes that swollen and red and your mascara rubbed away. 

You don’t want to be seen at all. You want to be left in bed to wrestle with your self-esteem and crippling grief over something that never existed. 

You pull out your phone, only dropping it once before sending off your hail Mary, hoping Dave can pick you up. 

Where?

The response is almost instant. You send off the name of the bar and do your best to make yourself look presentable before marching back towards your friends. You give Katie a quick hug from the side, yell-whispering into her ear that Dave is picking you up and you’ll text her tomorrow, before you slip away as quickly as you can manage. Bouncing off the back of a chair on your mission to get outside. 

You lean against the cool brick wall, eyes closed, taking deep breaths of the crisp fall air as you wait for your ride. You can hear the bass from another club across the street and the laughs and shouts from the gaggle of smokers gathered further up the block. You feel syrupy and wrung out, but you aren’t going to be sick. You just need to get home. 

“You alright?” A smooth voice cuts into your thoughts. You jerk your head more dramatically than you intended, taking in Tommy’s concerned brown eyes with a sigh. Of course. 

“Just waiting for my ride,” you do your best to act sober and emotionally stable. Whatever that looks like. 

“I’ll wait with you,” he decides. 

Your shoulders drop. You must not be very convincing. “Really, I’m fine,” you add, leaning your head against the wall. 

“Right,” he steps back but doesn’t leave. He lights a cigarette and allows you the silence as he smokes alongside you. It’s kind, you suppose, not wanting to leave you alone on the street. But he’s the last person you want to be next to right now. Or maybe second to last, you realize when he laughs and steps forward with a wave, drawing your attention to a scene that stops your heart. 

A familiar truck pulls up to the curb in front of you, and you take back your earlier assessment. You feel like you are gonna be sick. Your stomach lurches, and you feel the panic rising in your throat. 

“What are you doing here?” Tommy shouts, “Isn’t it past your bedtime?” 

You squeeze your eyes shut, like maybe if you keep them closed, you’ll blend in with the wall. 

“Just giving a friend a ride,” Joel responds gruffly from inside his truck. Your plan immediately fails. His voice compels you to look at him. 

Some unspoken fucking sibling communication happens between the two of them, and then Joel is staring at you. Unreadable. “You getting in?” he hollers at you. 

“No,” you mumble barely audible. You clear your throat, feeling hoarse, and try again. “I’m waiting for my ride.” 

“I think it’s here, darlin’,” Tommy says as he steps towards you to usher you towards Joel’s truck. You shrug him off, pulling out your phone to check your messages. To see how long it’s been since you told Dave your location. 

You didn’t. 

You texted Joel. 

You’re mortified. No, no, no. This cannot be real. You didn’t text this hot nightmare. There’s no way he would’ve responded. 

He did. 

Joel: Where? 

You’re still shaking your head and trying to wrap your head around the situation. You’re the architect of your own worst nightmare now. A disaster asking to be rescued by the guy who knows exactly how to twist the knife in your gut. You’re spiraling inwards. 

Completely unaware of the exchange between Joel and Tommy. Or how gone, you look to them. 

“Jesus Christ,” Joel mutters at Tommy as he comes round to help you into the truck. “What’d she have?” 

“Hey,” Tommy defends, “I just came outside, and she said she was waitin’ on her ride. I don’t know shit.” 

“Figures,” he’s still grumbling as he shuts the door. You’re in shock as you sit in the cab of Joel’s truck. The only other time you were inside was the night you met. 

“Shit,” you curse at yourself as Joel gets in and pulls away from the curb. 

He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t say anything. Just drives in silence. Through every light, all the way across town. 

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly, “I didn’t mean to text you.” It hangs in the thick silence. You focus so hard on keeping your breathing steady, tamping down the sobs fighting to break through, that you barely register the tears that stream down your face. 

You hear him sigh before his hand rests on your thigh, “What happened?” he croaks like it hurts to speak.  

You’re reeling at that. Hearing him sigh like you’re a hindrance, like your emotions are a burden like it pains him to ask. You don’t have the clarity of mind to filter yourself. 

“Nothing,” you snap, glaring at his hand. “Don’t pretend like you care,” you dig, refusing to look at him, hot tears still rolling down your cheek. He doesn’t ask again. But he doesn’t pull his hand back, and you don’t move it until he’s shifting into park. 

Against your better judgment, you turn to face him. Your gut twists at the sight of him so close to you. After you’ve been left alone with your thoughts for so long. You can’t read his stoic face or his beautiful dark eyes. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, trying not to linger on how insane you must seem. Asking for a ride, snapping at him, and then thanking him. You cringe at yourself, trying to swipe the tears under your eyes away like that’ll make you seem more put together. 

You hop out of the cab and take a second to steady yourself. Joel’s door slams as he rounds the front of the truck to steady you. 

“Don’t,” you mutter. He puts an arm around you as if it’s natural, and you still. 

“Baby,” he says, low and soothing, “let me help.” 

Baby. It stirs the stupid butterflies in your stomach until your brain catches up. 

“No,” you shove him away. It’s weak, but he steps back.

“C’mon,” he urges you, “let’s just get you inside.” 

“No,” you still don’t move. Afraid you’ll fall apart if you try. You need him to leave before you come apart. If he touches you, you know you’ll beg him to fuck your pain away. 

“I can’t do it again.” You muster your courage, but when you look at his face, a soft sob finally breaks through, and your body shudders, gasping for a breath, “Please.”

His face darkens. His arms hang limply at his sides before his fists tighten. The street is quiet in the dark. “You think I’m here to fuck you?” 

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t?” it’s a genuine question, but it rings harsh in the night with your uneven breathing. You fumble, dropping your keys when you finally dig them out of your bag, swearing under your breath. He grabs them before you and offers them to you, dropping them into your hand, avoiding your touch. 

You mumble thanks and stalk towards your door. He stays put, watching until you’re inside before he turns to leave. 

……

You get a text from Katie the following morning. 

Katie: Girl, are you alive?

Katie: You wanna tell me why Dave looked an awful lot like Joel?

You: not really. did Tommy say something?

Katie: No?? I was trying to get a glimpse of your man when I saw you getting into Joel’s truck??

You: I texted the wrong number 

Katie: ….

Katie: Uh, unless you’ve got him in your phone as Daddy Joel (real) I don’t think those letters are that close together babe

Katie: WAIT 

Katie: When did you get Joel’s number? He barely talks to anyone! 

Kate: Don’t answer that, I’m coming over and bribing you with a hangover cure bacon egg n’ cheese and you’re telling me everything 

You: and a cold brew? 

Katie: Duh 

…………..

“Fuck,” Joel grumbles when he hears a knock at his door. He knows exactly what this is. He lets Tommy in without a word and tromps back to his kitchen to get another coffee before his interrogation starts. He sits at the table, and levels the darkest “don’t start with me” glare he can, but his idiot brother has always been immune. 

…………….

“What do you mean?” you whine at Katie from your side of the couch. “There’s no use trying to talk to him; he’s emotionally constipated, and he only wants one thing from me.” 

“Maybe there’s more to him,” she suggests vaguely. 

“You were the one telling me to drop him and move on anyway!” you argue like a child. 

“I didn’t know it was him!”

“How does that change anything?” you glare at her. Katie chews at her lip while you devour the last of your breakfast sandwich. It’s cold. You had been so wrapped up in your recollection of the ups and downs of your non-relatioinship with Joel you forgot to finish eating while it was fresh. It feels like a stupid metaphor about how he forgot to take care of yourself when you were drawn into his toxic cycle. 

You thought confessing would reduce the weight on your chest. You weren’t prepared for Katie to add to your delusion. 

“I don’t think it’s really my place to share his… baggage,” she muses. 

“Since when?” you cut her a nasty look. 

“I just think,” she pauses, and you ball up the foil from your sandwich and throw it at her, earning you a glare, “It’s complicated.” 

“Okay, Avril Lavigne,” you mock. “You’re the worst, and this is not helpful! You’ve gotta give me something. Is he married? Am I the mistress? Is he a felon? A drug dealer?” 

“You think I wouldn’t warn you about any of those?” 

“I don’t know. I never thought you’d be taking his side,” you say in a serious tone. 

“I’m not defending him!” She holds up her hands in surrender. “You deserve better than fuckboy behavior from a grown man.” 

“Thanks.” 

“It’s just,” he considers her words as your eyes narrow, “it seemed like it meant more than that. You were practically glowing half the summer.” 

“And a lifeless zombie the rest of the time?” 

“A cute zombie?” she shrugs. “I’m serious, though. Do you think he’d show up to rescue anyone else–no questions asked? That fast?” her words get softer.

“I don’t know,” you mutter, draping yourself miserably along the end of the couch, trying not to think about the times Joel bent you over the armrest. “I don’t know him at all, really.” 

“Do you want to?” 

Yes! A naive part of you shouts, hopeful and bright, blind to the reality of your situation. Oh, no. Definitely not. You dropkick that idea right to the back of your mind. Ignoring the way it screams until it’s muffled by the dejected, logical thoughts. “I can’t risk it,” you respond weakly. 

Katie hears it. The ever-resilient part of you that tries to stay one step ahead cracks and lets the vulnerability out. You refuse to worsen the abandonment wound, but it’s entangled in your heart. 

Katie doesn’t bring it up again. She spends the rest of the day with you, ordering takeout and putting on your favorite movies, like you’re going through a breakup. It helps.

…………

Life lulls back into the same routine. Except now, when you wake up, it’s Joel’s face–not his voice–that haunts you. The 

Instead of Joel’s voice haunting you when you wake up–it’s his face. The way he looked hurt. The way he dropped your keys into your hand

when you begged him not to come inside. It sinks like a stone in your stomach that you carry all day as you go through the motions. It feels hollow, but you persist. Your friends lighten the dark fog. Dave’s praise soothes the ache, and he fucks you so hard you can forget almost forget. 

But Joel lurks in your walls, in your skin, and you swear you see his headlights sweep over your living room, but it’s never his truck. At least not in the two weeks since karaoke night. You’ll never understand the trickery that makes misery slow time, but every day has felt bloated and stretched. 

Sick of feeling sick, the following week, when Joel’s face pops up, the second you open your eyes, you curse him. Spite simmers in your bones. If he had something to say, he had all the time in the world to show up and say it. Channeling the malaise into something darker, you let your anger renew your energy. 

All I can fuckin’ think about MY ASS. 

You’re itching for the distraction by the time you’re getting ready for your date with Dave this evening. You know you’re going to be a menace, and it’ll turn him on, which already has you smirking to yourself. You’re almost ready when you hear a knock at your door. You frown, checking the time. Dave’s usually precisely on time, not early. Close enough, you figure, slinging your bag over your shoulder and heading for the door. 

You swing it open, ready to see Dave, but your jaw drops when you see Joel. He’s caught off guard by your date night look and hesitates as his eyes sweep over your little black dress. Without a thought you slam the door in his face. 

What the fuck?

He knocks again, loudly, as if you weren’t standing on the other side with your mouth gaping like a fish. But the pounding brings you back to reality. 

You open the door and start before he even has a chance. 

“It’s been three weeks since I last saw you, Miller, and that was an accident! I don’t know how long it was before that, but now you’re gonna show up and ruin another date? I don’t fucking think so. You’ve got five minutes. Spit it out. What are you doing here?” 

He blinks dumbly for a moment. Taken aback by your words and still breathless at seeing you all dolled up for your date. You cross your arms, unimpressed so far. That’s somehow worse. The irritated look on your face makes him want to fuck the attitude out of you. He takes a deep breath, trying to refocus before he starts. 

“You’re right,” his voice is gentler than you remember–It’s criminal really, “I shouldn’t have waited.” He pauses and swallows thickly. Is he nervous? That’s new. “I’m not great with words, and I haven’t given you any reason to give me the time of day. I’m here to apologize.” 

“Go on then.” 

“It wasn’t right of me to run from you–”

“Which time?” you won’t let him get through this easily. Not now. He lets that sink in. The vulnerability makes his eyes shine. You can sense the charge in the air like he might just run right now. 

“Every time,” he admits. “Didn’t think you’d let me back in every time, but I couldn’t stop myself from trying. Knew you wanted me too.” You scoff at that. Amused at his approach. You see his shoulders tense before he lets your disapproval roll off of him. “Convinced myself, it was fine, or you’d stop answerin’ the door. Thought it’d be easier–” 

“If I did your dirty work for you?” you accuse sharply. “If it was my responsibility to hold you accountable?” 

“Thought it’d be easier if you hated me, I guess,” he runs his hand over the back of his neck. You stop seeing red and take him in. He smells fresh, like some over-fragranced body wash, his nearly dry hair brushed back. You hate how you feel the urge to soften just at the sight of him. “Figured you’d move on,” he rumbles. 

“Didn’t seem like you wanted me to move on when you crashed my date.” 

“It wasn’t my plan,” he mutters. Right. You raise your eyebrows. “You–you just drive me fuckin’ crazy. I don’t know why. But I can’t get you outta my fuckin’ head.”

That makes you smile. His confession willfully given on your front doorstep. In the daylight, without your body seducing his. You drive him crazy. 

Dave’s car pulls up behind Joel’s truck. “Time’s up,” you say, “as much as I really enjoy this 90s romcom-style confession, and I really do, I’ve got a date, and I don’t like to keep my dates waiting.” 

“Right,” Joel takes you in like he might never see you again, “he something serious?” he nods towards Dave’s car. 

“Why, you planning to ask me out?” you’re not afraid to be direct anymore. Nothing to lose. 

“Thought I’d just start with the apology.” 

“Good.” 

“You accept?” 

You laugh loudly, full-chested. It’s a release, but it ends mockingly. “You’re gonna have to try harder than this to show you really mean it.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” he nods, turning to leave. A wicked idea flashes through your mind as you watch him turn and look past him towards Dave, who is watching you intently. 

“Wait,” you call out, and Joel spins immediately. “I’ll consider your apology tonight on one condition.” He waits to hear more, and your grin sends a shiver down his spine. He’s in for something, and if it’s anything close to what he deserves, it’s gonna hurt. 

…………

You slide into your favorite corner booth, in between Dave and Joel. You admire them both in the dim light. You haven’t been able to keep the nefarious smirk off your face since you proposed your idea. Dave was an easy sell, just as you knew he would be, with minimal questions and clear on the role you wanted him to play. You weren’t surprised that Joel agreed, but you’re skeptical that he’ll be able to keep his cool. 

“You’re coming with us,” you told him like it was a command, “you’re gonna watch, and you’re gonna prove to me that you can behave.” 

He seems to keep it together through your date. He’s quiet, only accepting a drink when you tell him not to be weird. You know the jealousy is screaming beneath the surface. He does his best to rein it in, but when Dave taunts him with sly comments or touches you so freely, you catch his jaw tensing and his hands balling into tight fists, but he doesn’t say anything. 

Dave exudes confidence and control. He relishes in the power dynamic and more so, in how you’re so turned on by having an audience. Dave’s eyes are sharp, catching all of Joel’s discomfort when you giggle when you share a story when he touches you, but worst of all, when you touch Dave. “Dirty girl,” Dave murmurs close to your ear, “you want to give your guest a show before we take him home?” 

Your eyes are bright and shining when you smile at him. You give Joel a once over. He doesn’t look like he will flip the table or smash his fist through it. He glowers at Dave but softens for you, swallowing down the humiliation and washing it down with another drink. 

“Yeah,” you turn back to Dave, “he can take it. What do you have in mind?” 

“I think I dropped something under the table,” Dave’s low voice drips down your spine, and excitement buzzes in your core, “You think you can help me out?” You smile wide as the Cheshire cat before sinking beneath the table. It’s cramped and dark, but you’ve never been more grateful to Dave for reserving his favorite secluded corner spot. 

You wiggle a bit brushing against Joel as you situate yourself between Dave’s legs. The table muffles more of the sound, blending their voices into the sound of the music. You can tell Dave is trying to continue a casual conversation with Joel, and you can tell Joel doesn’t respond with many words. You find it easy enough to tune them out altogether as you focus on your mission, opening Dave’s belt and working quickly to tug at his pants until you can free his thick cock. 

Before you can get your mouth on it, Dave cups your jaw and grabs your attention, “Good girl,” he husks, matching your hungry gaze. “This what you want?” he asks as he grips the base of his cock and angles it towards you. You nod, wetting your lips in anticipation. “Do you want him to watch?” he asks, tilting his head towards Joel. 

You smile again, “Yes.” 

“Come closer,” he directs Joel, “she wants you to watch.” Joel shuffles over, scooting down the curved bench until he can see your face looking up at him. 

“Shit, baby,” Joel hisses, shifting to adjust himself. You see the mix of emotions flickering across his face. You can’t help yourself from holding eye contact with Joel as you slide your tongue down Dave’s length. You keep your eyes on him as you begin to bob your head, taking his cock deeper into your mouth. 

Having their eyes on you, has you squirming. The attention and the dynamics between the three of you has your heart in your cunt. The blazing jealousy in Joel’s eyes eggs you on, working sloppily to please Dave. You moan below them. 

“Look at her,” Dave speaks calmly to Joel, only a hint of strain in his voice as he maintains his composure. “You think another woman could enjoy your cock this much? You think you could find a mouth better than this?” 

“No,” Joel grits through clenched teeth. 

“You think you deserve her?” Dave asks like it’s as meaningless as asking about the weather. 

“No,” he grits again, his eyes shut tightly, waiting for something to pass, before he can continue watching you. You see the torment taking hold, lighting a fire within you that spurs you on. You break the eye contact to take Dave’s cock even deeper. He groans approvingly above you. 

“That’s it,” Dave encourages you with his hand gently wrapping around the back of your head, “just like that, fuck.” He keeps watching you, but his next words are for Joel. “Tell her,” he says, drunk with pride and lust, “tell her what a good girl she is. Think she more than deserves to hear it.” You know your cunt is dripping between your legs at the intensity of your lewd behavior and the control Dave wields over the both of you so effortlessly. 

You shift to watch Joel. He tempers the storm of his frustration and arousal to make sure it sounds honest. So you know he means it.

“That’s good, baby,” his voice is hoarse, and he clears his throat before continuing, “Such a good girl.” Your eyes nearly roll back. You didn’t think it could hit any harder than when Dave praises you, but hearing the words from Joel sends you to another plane. You melt before your determination is renewed, and you’re on a mission to make Dave come. He knows what you want, and his hips tilt, rocking into you as you swallow around him eagerly until he’s groaning again and pulsing against your tongue as he comes. 

The men shift, and the three of you adjust and fix yourselves, respectively, as you return to your seat between them. You’re pleased with yourself but overtaken with the need throbbing in your cunt. You don’t miss Joel’s attempts to adjust himself and squash his own aching desire. It makes your lips curl with a hungry smile. 

Dave pulls you towards him. You’re buzzing so tensely with anticipation that just his grip around your waist brings a whiny moan out of you. He chuckles darkly at your wrecked response. “So worked up just from that, aren’t you?” Dave teases. You hum in agreement, letting your senses be overwhelmed by the scent of both men and their warm bodies on either side of you. “Already soaked and ready to be filled with a cock, hm?” 

“Yes,” you agree, closing your eyes and smiling dreamily. 

“Tell me,” Dave murmurs with a dangerous edge. 

“So wet,” you purr in agreement, but he laughs again. You open your eyes, confused. 

“Was asking him,” Dave tilts your chin towards Joel. You thought your idea of having Joel watch would be punishment enough, but you weren’t prepared for how Dave’s filthy mind works a step ahead of yours. You pull Joel’s hand between your legs. “Check for me,” he orders. 

Joel obeys. His fingers are quick to find your soaked underwear, and he easily dips them beneath the fabric into the pool of slick at your fluttering entrance. “Fuck,” you both curse at the sensation. It’s overwhelming, and you jerk at the intensity of being touched where your body wants contact the most. 

“Fuckin’ soaked,” Joel confirms like it’s painful to say it, “needs it bad.” You think the latter might apply to both of you. 

“You think you can make it all the way home, dirty girl?” Dave teases. You nod, but the whiny sound that comes from your throat as Joel removes his hand says otherwise. Dave considers your needs. “He’s only here to watch, hm?” he confirms. You nod mindlessly. “You think he’d make a nice seat for your ride home? Keep that empty hole full for you?” 

“Oh, shit,” you feel your face heat at the idea, “yes.” 

Joel’s more conflicted than he’s ever felt in his life. He was prepared to fight off his jealousy and tame his anger. He wasn’t prepared to watch you give Dave head in public or for how fucking hard he would get watching. But the most difficult thing to reckon with is the humiliation. More specifically, how every comment from either one of you that further salted his wound made his skin boil but also sent jolts of excitement through his nerves. 

“You think you can keep it together?” Dave challenges Joel. 

“Yes.” 

………………

Joel regrets agreeing before you leave the parking lot, but you couldn’t pay him to go back in time and change his answer. He thought the worst of it was over once you finally settled on top of him, sinking painfully slowly down his cock until your ass was flush with his hips, but you can’t stay still. You tense and contract around him, nearly blinding Joel with the heat of your velvety soft walls choking his shaft. You lean forward, trying to get comfortable, and when the car bounces over a speed bump on the way out of the parking lot, you both groan with pleasure and frustration. 

“You feel better?” Dave asks you as he navigates swiftly back to yours. 

“So full,” you state, desperately fighting the urge to beg Joel to grab your hips and fuck you. You weren’t exactly exaggerating the last time you had sex with Joel when you said you missed his “big fat cock.” Every bump on the road has you biting back moans, and you squirm, trying to find a comfortable position. 

“Please,” Joel’s low voice is strained and ragged, “quit moving.” 

You should’ve had the foresight to realize this wasn’t a punishment for Joel. This was just going to weaken your resolve. You know the second he gets his hands on you, it’s useless. You’re his through and through. You thought you were still pissed off enough that he couldn’t get to you, that Dave’s presence would keep you on track. 

Well, you didn’t really think about it at all. You just felt your knees go weak when, and your cunt do a flip when Dave made the suggestion. You need to make a mental note to show him just how much you appreciate his dirty mind when you get back home. 

You can feel Joel’s growl rumbling through his chest and his thighs tensing beneath you. It’s a vicious cycle. Every sound he makes is like a call and response with your body. Your cunt denounces your orders to stay still and pulses rhythmically, trying to take Joel’s cock deeper on it’s own accord. His breath hitches, and you adjust. 

“Baby,” he rasps, sounding wrecked, “I can’t–fuck–can’t do this if you’re gonna be a fuckin’ tease. His hands wrap around your hips, fingers digging harshly into your flesh in an attempt to keep you still, but the pressure makes you cry out softly. 

“Is your chair complaining?” Dave mocks, and Joel’s cock tenses inside of you. 

“I’m about to complain,” you try to snark, but it comes out needy instead. 

“What do you need, dirty girl?” He asks sincerely. You know it’s not long to get home, but you can’t think straight with Joel’s cock so deep inside of you. 

“Fuck, I…” you wiggle again, causing Joel to grunt behind you, and the noise makes your pussy flex, “I can’t,” you trail off, digging your nails into your palms, trying to steady yourself. You feel pathetic right now, unable to put together a sentence and barely able to keep yourself still. 

“Hey,” Dave coos gently, seeing the pained expression on your face. “You decide what you want. Your rules. You want him to touch you?” 

“Mmm,” you groan loudly with want, “please, please, please.” 

Joel doesn’t hesitate, hands searching immediately and yanking you closer as he gropes at your body. The freedom to move gives him power over his urges, more control than either of you expected. His breath is hot against your neck before his voice, gravelly and dark, vibrates just behind your ear, “Missed hearing you beg for me.” 

Your head lolls back against his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut and mouth hanging open. You moan in sync as his hands wrap around your body, slipping under the top and bottom of your dress at the same time. You’re pinned, back against his firm chest, as one hand pinches at your hard nipple and the other taps at your clit. Your body struggles in his strong arms, unable to bow at the overstimulation of his touch. All you can manage is to rut your hips into him. 

“You desperate to come on my cock again, baby?” he goads you. Feeling confident now that he’s free to run his filthy mouth again. Feeling drunk on your needy noises and the way you writhe for him. He carries on teasing you in his Joel-specific way with his words and his fingers. It’s maddening, and you feel lit up, skin tingling as you’re at his mercy. You can only see blinding light, like you’re inside of a star, as you get closer and closer. 

You’re too incapacitated to realize you’ve made it home, that the car has stopped moving, that Dave has turned to watch you. Joel continues to rasp filth into your ear, but your body spasms in response when Dave begins to encourage you. “That’s right,” Dave coaxes you, “take what you need.” 

You do. Falling headfirst into the rush, broken, gasping, moans ringing through the car. The scent of sex swirling in the air. Your tension snaps, flooding with endorphins, and riding through the waves as you’re fully supported by Joel’s arms and body. 

“Fuck,” Joel chokes out, biting down into the curve of your neck to stifle himself. Your cunt still weakly tries to milk his cock as your hips twitch and jerk while you ease back down from your orgasm. You can feel the mess you’ve made. Hot and sopping wet, dripping down Joel’s cock and making you slip against his thighs. You’ve never made such a mess before. 

Joel shudders and tenses beneath you. Lifting you off of him with a familiar grunt. It’s his come leaking out of you. Your head swivels, “that wasn’t for you.” His cocky attitude from minutes earlier is gone; shame washes over him. His curls are no longer tamed like they were when he showed up at your door; one sticks to the sweat on his forehead. He breathes deeply, chest rising and falling, as he mouths a barely audible apology. 

It’s twisted that it stirs your need to comfort him. Fuck it. You figure the whole evening has been wild enough so far. Plus, he can take some of the emotional whiplash this time. You’re tired of being the one with that look on your face. You can see the taunt dancing on Dave’s tongue; you know he’s ready to cut Joel with vicious words, but he holds them, waiting for your lead. 

It’s an unbelievable position to be in. You aren’t used to feeling like you’ve got the upper hand in the power dynamic like this. Not with Joel. Not with two men that radiate dominance like it’s in their DNA. You’d like to savor the moment, but now that you’re not burning a horny fever, you realize how incredibly impractical it is to sit on top of such a large man inside of the car. You’re all gonna end up with neck cramps if you’re in here another minute. 

Despite dying to know what Dave’s holding back, you have more mercy than him or Joel. Joel, who currently can’t look you in the eye as he stays uncomfortably rigid beneath you, well, except for his spent cock. The thought makes you snort weakly, amused at your own sense of humor. 

You contort in Joel’s lap to kiss him softly on the cheek. “Chin up, Joel,” you lilt. “You can make it up to me. We’re not done yet,” you nod towards Dave who smirks darkly, “Unless you’ve changed your mind.” You open the door and hop out, leaving both men to watch you walk to the door. For the first time since you opened your door tonight, you’re alone long enough to let some nerves start to get to you. 

Your dates don’t follow immediately. They take long enough that you start to spin out in your head. Are you insane for this whole idea? Did you really just crawl under a table to Dave in front of Joel? In public? What the fuck are they talking about without you? You’re impatient now, arms crossed, leaning against the door frame, letting the cool night air stream into your living room. 

Then they’re striding towards you. Hungry eyes glinting. Both are intimidatingly gorgeous in their own ways. Dave exudes a slightly detached, effortless, authoritative swagger. It makes you feel special when he gives you his undivided attention. Joel is raw, slightly untethered like he’s always weary from warring with his own demons, but he still wields lethal power. They stalk towards you swiftly, catching your concern as they usher you towards your bedroom with more coordination than you expected. 

The door closes behind you with a soft click, but the tension in the air is heavy, as if someone had slammed it shut. Your room feels smaller with the weight of the situation about to unfold. Dave’s presence behind you makes your pulse quicken; the head of his body and his signature scent surround you. Joel watches, leaning against the door, arms crossed, jaw set, determined restraint weighing on his features. Despite the distance between you, Joel’s presence feels all-consuming. You’re mesmerized by his figure. His arms look even bigger, crossed in front of him, his broad shoulders, his pouty bottom lip, his strong jaw. You feel possessed with the need to …bite him? But, you don’t move. 

Dave’s fingers trace lightly down your spine as you continue to unabashedly ogle Joel, who stiffens at the sight of Dave’s hands slipping the straps of your dress over your shoulders. He’s unreadable, but the something simmering beneath the forced calm is contextually obvious. Joel’s trying to keep his cool; he doesn’t flinch, but he shifts, unable to remain still while he can only watch. 

Katie always referred to the chair in your room you designated as laundry purgatory as the cuck chair. It was only a joke, but if it isn’t perfect now. You glide across the room, tossing the worn-once sweatshirts and denim into the laundry hamper for future you to sort, offering the seat to Joel. It’s comical how his presence seems so out of place on the thrifted antique parlor chair.

You giggle softly as you spin back toward Dave, eager to find out what his depraved mind is plotting for the rest of the night. Dave’s voice is a low hum as he welcomes you into his arms, “Let’s make sure Joel gets a good look at what he’s missing out on, hm?” You nod, letting Dave arrange you as he pleases. “Pay attention,” he orders Joel, “I’m doing you a favor.” You can hear the devious glee lurking beneath Dave’s controlled tone. Joel’s dark eyes spark with something fierce as they flick to Dave before landing back on you. 

You can feel your pulse beating in your neck—and your cunt—as your chest heaves dramatically as Dave’s hands move over you. His touch is both tender and possessive as he makes a show of removing all of your clothes. It’s exaggerated to eat at Joel, but it works you up just the same. Dave pauses, letting his fingers hover over your nipples, brushing them just enough to make you shiver before kneading your soft tits, making you gasp. 

“You see that?” Dave asks over your shoulder, addressing Joel. “She’s so needy already. All worked up again. How are you going to satisfy her if she needs my cock right after you make her come?” 

You see Joel stiffen, gripping the arms of your chair like he might crush them. He’s still holding on to some semblance of composure, but it’s unraveling. You didn’t expect the dynamic between them to hit you straight in the pussy, but you’re dizzy, humming with anticipation. 

“On the bed, greedy girl,” Dave instructs. You follow without question, crawling onto the mattress, your pulse pounding in your ears. Joel’s eyes are glued to you, devouring every inch of your bare skin. It’s impossible for you to look away from him. His struggle as he works so fucking hard not to show how much he wants you, even though it’s written all over his face, is driving you wild. His fingers twitch as if he’s resisting the urge to touch you, to take. 

With your head still turned, locked onto the sight of Joel, your mouth parts in a soft gasp as Dave’s broad hands spread your legs wide, exposing your heated skin to the cool air in the room. You break away from your staring contest to catch the searing heat in Dave’s eyes before he lowers, pausing just before his lips brush against your swollen clit. He doesn’t ease the ache yet, lifting his head and turning to Joel with a smirk. “Come closer. You might learn something,” he challenges smugly. 

You’d roll your eyes at his arrogance, but then he dives in, tongue sliding against your slick cunt with devastating precision. You can only dig your fingers into your sheets as you arch and moan in response to his expert rhythm. With your eyes squeezed shut and your breath coming in uneven, shallow pants, you relax into the sensation coursing through you. 

“Tell him,” Dave hums into your skin, “Tell Joel how good it feels.” 

Your eyes flutter open, meeting Joel’s gaze. The sight of him has you at a loss for words. His face is expressionless, but as always, his eyes betray him. Sharp, hungry, and barely containing the storm inside of him. “So… feels, fuck, feels so good.” 

Joel’s chest rises and falls heavily. Dave’s taunts don’t hurt Joel’s pride, but watching you fall apart for another man twists his gut harshly. You’re so close he could count the beads of sweat forming on your chest. He can taste you and smell you, and it drives him wild. Like a beast, only held back by his hope to have a chance for more. 

Dave chuckles against you, his breath teasing your clit before he wraps his lips around it, sucking hard. The pleasure slams through you, and you cry out, your hips jerking against his mouth. Every nerve ending alight with sensation. You can’t think, only feel.

“She’s so responsive,” Dave gloats.

Joel doesn’t acknowledge the comment. His composure is cracking, the frustration bubbling to the surface. You can see it in the way his jaw clenches, the way his eyes stay glued to the place where Dave’s mouth moves over you with expert ease.

But Dave isn’t done with either of you yet. He pulls back from between your legs, his fingers trailing over your slick skin as he moves to stand. His eyes are alight with that dangerous gleam that makes your heart race. “Let’s show Joel what a dirty girl you are for me.”

You’re eager to obey. “How do you want me?” Your voice is breathy and ragged already. It only crosses your mind now that you’re completely naked while they’re still fully dressed. You sit up, reaching for Dave’s belt before he’s answered you. He takes off his shirt while you work diligently to release his cock. “Look at her, Joel,” Dave taunts, his voice thick with pride and adoration for you. “She just wants to be fucked right.” 

Joel swallows hard. The effort it takes to keep himself in check is wavering. He’s burning with the urge to claim you, to show you the meaning of being fucked right, to make you come so hard you forget Dave’s name. His ears ring, tuning Dave out completely, watching you adjust, lying back on your pillows, welcoming Dave between your legs. 

Joel is transfixed. Watching as Dave positions himself between your legs and slides into you with an agonizingly slow thrust. Distantly, he can hear you moaning loudly; he can hear Dave continuing to goad him about how tight you are and how he gives you what you need or whatever else he thinks matters. All Joel can process is the sight of Dave’s cock disappearing inside of you. Over and over and over again. 

A deep, nauseating wave of embarrassment sinks heavily into Joel’s stomach. You wanted to punish him? Like this? It’s too absurd to be a joke, to be a sick prank. It can’t be some kind of trap. You aren’t cruel like that. Worse. He’s trapped between his anger and arousal. Forced to watch as Dave takes you apart, piece by piece. Tortured by his own cock throbbing painfully in response to everything about you. He looks at your face and feels dismantled by your gaze. Hazy and sweet, you’re staring at him, wet lips parted as you gasp shallowly while Dave keeps up his pace. 

Joel’s composure is slipping, his hands flexing before he gives in, trying to readjust. Hoping to find the slightest relief as he palms himself over his jeans. Your brows wrinkle with pleasure, and a breathy “oh, fuck,” slips out of you. Seeing Joel so turned on just from watching you sends you rolling into a warm, vision-blurring climax. 

“I know,” Dave coos in your ear as you catch your breath, “I know.” He’s still murmuring against your neck, but it’s the silent exchange with Joel that makes you smile lazily. You think he figured it out, the power he has over you with just his expressions. That he’s the one that has you breathless. “Tell her,” Dave growls over you. 

“Good girl,” Joel utters hoarsely, mouth dry. He sees the glow wash over you at his words, and it clicks. Finally. Whatever it is between you affects you just as much. His punishment isn’t watching someone else please you, wondering if they really can make you feel better than he can. Wondering if they’ll treat you better. If you’re better off without Joel at all. No. 

It’s knowing they can’t. Knowing you’ve been just as empty without him as he’s been without you. That it’s been his fault. He’s made it worse. You’re all he can fuckin’ think about, and he’s in your head just the same. 

And right now his punishment is to wait this night out. To be vulnerable and reveal the truth. The desperate desire he has for you. He’s pathetic with it, honestly. He’ll sit here all night, show you how hard you make him, tell you how badly he wants you, describe how perfect you are, anything. It starts to pour out of him as his jealousy and anger recede. “So good, baby, you look beautiful, like a dream,” Joel’s voice is filled with earnest wonder. You beam, your eyelids heavy with lust as Joel continues. “I want you so bad it hurts. You’ve got me losing my fuckin’ mind.” 

“That’s a start,” Dave commends Joel before he shifts, pulling out and flipping you onto your hands and knees. You can hear Joel cursing under his breath as Dave kneads the plush curves of your ass, spreading you wide and showing off your glossy cunt. “You see that? Perfect, right?” He doesn’t wait for Joel to respond, focused on lining himself up and sliding back inside of you as deep as he can. 

Dave groans along with you as he lights up every nerve within you, and your pussy contracts coaxing him deeper. He pauses when his hips meet your ass, filling you to the hilt before he wraps an arm around you to pull your back flush against his chest. “Look at him,” Dave tilts your head to be sure you can take in Joel’s wrecked expression. “You think he deserves to touch himself while I’m fucking you?” Dave asks, shifting his attention back to you, mischief twinkling in his eyes. 

“No,” you reply, resolute. “He doesn’t deserve it. But I want to watch, so he will.” Dave’s grin widens, reveling in your direct nature. He lowers you, and you adjust, resting your cheek on your pillow so you can watch. “Please, Joel, let me see.” Your begging has the exact effect you wanted on Joel when you hear the throaty groan he makes. 

You squirm involuntarily when you finally get a clear view of Joel’s cock, clenching tightly around Dave’s cock. He hums behind you, muttering about how you’re unreal, and he hopes Joel can handle a woman like you as he slowly drags himself almost completely out of you before snapping his hips brutally, slamming back into you. 

You’re bewitched. The head of Joel’s cock glistens, weeping with precome, enticing, and menacing as his fist strokes slowly along his shaft. You’re salivating at the debauched scene and drenching Dave’s cock as he continues to slowly work you back up. The sounds of skin slapping against skin fill the room, mingling with your gasps and moans.

“You see that?” Dave asks you, “Look how desperate he is. You think he wants to come?” 

“Yes,” you reply, “fuck, yes.” 

“Ladies first, though, hm?” Dave muses as he picks up his pace, pushing you closer, finding the perfect angle that makes your mind go blank. The pressure builds inside you, and the louder you get, the more Joel starts to fall apart. Your flip between Joel’s eyes and his fist pumping his cock ravenously. For you. All for you. 

That sends you over the edge, wringing all the pleasure out of you, taking Dave with you as he stills against you, cock pulsing hotly inside of you, as your limbs feel weak and you sink into the mattress. You watch as Joel spills over his knuckles, cursing and grunting as he comes, and it makes you giddy. 

Dave kisses your shoulder tenderly, praising you quietly, just for you, before he gets up and, like clockwork, heads to the bathroom to clean up and get you a warm washcloth. You continue to grin loosely, giggling softly, still amused by how out of place Joel looks. You see the fear flit across his face, and a cold, nasty feeling rips through you as you brace for the worst. Cruel words spring up, ready to protect you, but you hold your tongue. You won’t guilt him into staying. You can’t choose for him. 

It’s a painfully long minute. He doesn’t look at you. You try not to shut down. And then Dave is back, ever the gentleman, with warm washcloths for both of you. He checks in with you softly, “What do you need?”

The words stick in your throat. You sit up and force yourself to get them out. It’s barely above a whisper. “I need to talk to Joel.” He looks at you finally, as if you whispering his name snapped him out of a trance. Dave nods. 

“You want me to stay?” Dave asks. You blink at him curiously. Neither of you do sleepovers. You don’t need a bodyguard. You must have it stamped across your forehead like a holiday package: fragile. 

“No.” 

He takes your word for it, redressing and heading out swiftly. Leaving you alone with Joel. 

Unreadable Joel. With no clues in his eyes or his body language. His head follows you, watching as you cross the room to grab a shirt. You honestly wonder if he could disappear in the half a second your vision is obscured while you pull it over your head, but he’s still there. So, you gather your courage and face him head-on. 

“Can we talk?”

Tags: 

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@perpetuallymanic

@whirlwindrider29

@wintersquirrel

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@bitchesuntitled

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@auteurdelabre

@adoreyouusugar

@swankyorange

<- Part 3 (previous)

Pls let me know if you’d like to be tagged or removed 

Also PLEASE let me know what you think <3

[hotchfiles]

“ DOOMED ー +18, mdni

ー aaron hotchner x fem!BAU!reader.

ー summary: three times he tells you he's leaving haley and the one time he does it.

ー content: angst, cheating, allusions to sex, crude words, ooc!hotch in the sense he would not be a cheater. NO HAPPY ENDING.

ー w/c: 1.4k

ー a/n: pain, cheating and guilt are my favorite emotions.

This is not a love story. But it began with shared cigarettes and a confession.

I - COME SHOVE ME OVER THE EDGE

"I think Haley is cheating on me." He's not looking at you as he says it, eyes on his feet as he takes a particularly long drag of his cigarette ー one of yours he asked for, you didn't even know he smoked until that very moment, but the way he held the white poison between his fingers and let only part of the smoke leave his nostrils showed you it wasn't his first time.

It's good he isn't looking as you aren't able to mask how wide your eyes opened, completely shocked at first, but it isn't the shock you wished to mask, the following shrug of your shoulders was the bad reaction to such confession. It shocked you because Haley was obviously in love with the man by your side, but then ー it made sense. Loneliness is a powerful motivator for the vastest of actions. And working with Hotch it was easy to see Haley was lonely.

"Complete silence wasn’t the reaction I was expecting."

"And what were you expecting?"

"Not entirely sure. Empathy? Pity?"

You grin to yourself more than to him, if he wanted one of those, he would've gone to one of the other girls. "Don't feel those when I see consequences catching up to the actions deserving of them." Hadn't he complained about your silence you wouldn't be so blunt. But it was almost like he was teasing you, hoping you would bite back.

You hear the air come out of his nose and he coughs part of the smoke he was about to inhale, surprised but amused at your response. Truth be told, part of him needed that, needed some sort of punishment, or so he felt. It's why he went to the roof after you to smoke, and not Emily.

"I think I'm gonna file for divorce," he says after some minutes of silence, watching as you put your cigarette out by throwing it on the floor and stepping on it.

"That's probably wise." It's a short reply to end a short conversation ー one you didn't really wanna participate in. You and Hotch aren't friends. He's your boss. Has been for six months, and by now you made it obvious to everyone that you enjoyed being alone and treating the job as what it is: A job.

As a young new female agent, fresh out of the academy you were designated to the white collar division. It wasn't as physically dangerous, but there you were forced to shut others out, the competitiveness and misogyny made it impossible to have them as family.

The BAU is different, but old habits die hard, especially the ones you gathered as protection.

II - YOU KNOW THAT I'M IN LOVE WITH THE MESS

Aaron teases you, breathless telling you he melted your icy heart, you let him know your heart is as icy as three months ago.

His fingers grip on your hips with much more strenght than before, it hurts in the best way and you know there will be red marks there in the morning as a treat and reminder. He uses the newfound support to thrust up into you, setting a new pace, faster, relentless, no warning.

You can't react any other way, a loud moan escaping your lips as your nails sink into the skin of his shoulders, a muttered curse leaves his just before a smirk is plastered on his face, amused at your pleasure.

"Sounds melted to me." 

Replying to that is useless, so you don't. Enjoying the feeling of his body against yours and him throbbing inside of you holds more importance than protecting your ego.

You brought him home, the sanctity of your bed now tainted by your sins, so he wasn't wrong, he was melting your heart, finding a place for him there in the depths of your soul in the past three months.

It started slow, you aren't sure if it was his intention all along, following you every time you took your smoking break, buying your cigarette brand and giving it to you as a thank you for sharing it with him, buying you coffee and talking to you. But most of all, enjoying the silence with you.

A month in he offers you a ride home, lips to yours as soon as the car reaches your street. You couldn't wait, neither could he. Fucking in the car was never comfortable, but it was hot, the look on his face when you left the car after you both came, saying goodbye instead of inviting him inside was completely worth it.

In the daze of your desire you didn't even notice his wedding band intact on his finger. It became more apparent with time, so much so he began taking it off before meeting you in hotels. He thinks he does it for your sake, but you know it's actually for his own.

He feels guilty. You wouldn't like him as much if he didn't. But it would make things easier if he didn't have reason to be feeling that way.

"I talked to a lawyer last week." He gets sappy after sex, hands caressing your body with feather-like touches, promises made in loving tones you pretend not to hear. You know your place too well to show how easily swayed you are by him. You hum in reply, nodding into his naked chest. "I'll just wait for Jack's birthday to pass, I want to spend one last birthday without the weight of the divorce. Then I am all yours."

You try not to care, but you do. And worse than that, you believe him.

III - WHEN IT RAINS IT FUCKING POURS

You are angry and embarrassed, but mostly you just feel so humiliated it physically hurts both your head and your heart. Alone in a conference room, all you can do is think and relive how stupid the situation was and estipulate about what everyone was thinking about you.

A nice good-looking cop flirted with you, and you weren't bothered by it, you even flirted back lightly, nothing serious about it and it wouldn't come to anything, you weren't looking to date anyone. It was innocent and you are single.

Aaron didn't see it that way. Made a huge deal of it, told you and the guy off for not paying attention to the case and the way he looked at you... Your colleagues are profilers, the deal was to act normally, and now you know they know it.

It's not like you're the type to care too much about societal morals but the newest team member that doesn't open up ends up sleeping with the boss. No need for any profile course to know the type of assumptions to be made.

You may not care about much, but you care about your job and being seen as less than capable for taking your boss' cock every other day was not in your plans.

You can't even make a scene. Morally wrong women helping men cheat don't get to make a scene.

You get to wallow alone. That's your prize.

That and an explanation text as you won't be alone with the other for a while in favor of professionalism.

I'm sorry. l got overly jealous.

It's hard seeing you smile like that at someone else.

But soon it'll be just us and when you're officially mine everyone will know it.

Everyone will know it. You can only scoff at that. As if his jealousy fit masked as concern for the case wasn't enough for your team of profilers. Everyone knew now. No going back. From ice queen to office whore in a blink, all for a man who has been promising to leave his wife for almost an year now with no actions to keep such promise, nothing to prove his intentions but your trust to his words.

IV - NOT WORTH SAVING IT

You are on your annual leave when he finally does it, signs the papers Haley served him. The fact she was the one to file should be clue enough, but it took the excruciating knowledge of how long it was taking him to sign the damn thing to snap you out of his grasp.

It's just a coincidence, a bitter one to him at that, that Strauss handed your transfer papers and substitutes' files on the same day he signed and mailed back his divorce papers.

He tries to call you, goes to your house but traveling for your AL was your plan for that reason. You didn't want to talk, didn't want his honey-dipped words and warm hands to blur your good sense.

It's done. You are done. There's no way back, you were doomed from the start.

[kruegerspillow]

serendipity ; simon ghost riley

creators note: i love this man he deserves all the kisses in the world mwamwamwa my hyperfixation is stuck on him aaarghhh this is just little scenario i had in my own mind LMAO

warnings: swearing, this is after johnny had died guys sorry :(, might be ooc! Simon, NOT PROOFREAD

pt 2 here!

The battlefield shouldn't be a place where you could joke around, no, not at all. It is a result of greed— it is the effect that has been left by politics. It captures the eyes of many, yet, it doesn't stop. No matter how many times you plead, no matter how hard you beg, it won't stop. War isn't God, it won't forgive you for what you've done.

The screaming of children will echo through the hollowness of your mind. It will follow you around like a shadow. It will be implanted in your soul like a curse left by Adam. Their body parts are scattered and no longer recognizable. The city that was once your shelter had faded into nothing but debris. War is a consequence of our sins.

The wind howled loudly as you made your way through the isolated village. The field was now left with silence apart from the heavy breathing of your teammates through the radio. Your hand gripped the rifle as you furrowed your brows, watching through the bush to see if there were any movements left in the area. For once, the atmosphere in war was strangely... quiet. Clear. You thought to yourself before clicking on the button of the radio.

"Area's clear. I will be exfiltrating, cap'n." You whispered into the radio, hearing static noises from the other line before a gruff 'affirm' was returned.

Your heartbeat quickened with adrenaline as you walked through the bushes, searching for more enemies before making your way to the extraction point. Suddenly, the rustling of a bush could be heard— that was definitely not you. Your head perked up at the sudden noise, feeling your body tense before turning to the source of the sound. A sharp bang can be heard from behind you and the sound was not even a few yards away. You felt a gloved hand abruptly covering your mouth, the material of the gloves felt familiar—

"Quiet." Your lieutenant's voice came out as a whisper, having just killed a hostile enemy from their team. "More of 'em are 'ere, don't make a single noise ya bloody sod."

"I've gotten rid of them, haven't I—"

"Bloody reinforcements."

There were a few minutes of silence, apart from your heavy breathing. Your back pressed against his chest while his hand covered your mouth. Helicopters hovered over the both of you, flying towards the secure area before making its landing. Simon let go of your mouth before standing up, glancing at you from the holes of his mask as he waited for you to stand. You quickly stood back up before the two of you made your way towards the helicopter, seeing your other teammates jogging to the helicopter before getting in. Captain Price pulled you up while Simon went to sit in one of the seats. Captain Price tugged you to a safer corner of the helicopter, making sure no one fell out.

"Fuckin' aced it, team." Captain Price spoke up, his voice hinted with pride. "Bloody nice."

“Paperworks won't be bloody nice, eh?”

"Christ, ya already thinkin' of the responsibilities, Gaz?"

You swore you could feel Simon's gaze burning a hole through your body as you stood in the corner, watching the banter between Gaz and the Captain. The helicopter ascended before flying back to the base. You could feel the tension between the both of you, surrounding you with an almost overwhelming intensity. Why's he starin' at me like that? You thought to yourself, though you quickly dismissed the thought as you looked out the window. Suddenly, you felt a small nudge on your elbow.

"Muppet, won't ya talk to that lonely bloke there?" Gaz whispered, making sure it's inaudible for Simon to hear before he motioned towards your lieutenant. Gaz had a small, playful grin on his lips.

"Who are you callin' a muppet, huh?"

"Hey, don't ignore what I've jus' said. Last time I've seen lieutenant all cheery was when Soap was still with us, aye?"

"... What're you tryin' to do, Gaz?"

"Jesus, jus' give 'im some company, alrigh'? You both are alike. Remember, great minds think alike."

You scoffed at his words, shaking your head in disbelief as he let out a small laugh. You crossed your arms in an almost defensive way, making your decision before you strode towards your lieutenant. The words in your throat died down when you got closer to him, sitting down beside him before leaning back on the seat. His gaze followed your weary form, and not a single word left his mouth. Finally, you gathered the courage to look up at him.

"Well, 'ello lieutenant." You greeted him.

"You don't need'a talk to me, y'know tha'?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"I 'eard what Gaz said to ya. 'M not one for idle talk, anyway."

You let out a small huff, taking in his words before resting your hands in your lap. The silence took over the conversation, creating an almost awkward atmosphere between the both of you. Simon's gaze lingered on you, as if reading you like an open book. He blinked a few times, waiting for your next move.

"Well, he isn't very good at whisperin', isn't he..."

A small scoff left his lips, "What do ya think?"

'It's not like you're any better, aye, lieutenant? Nearly got the both of us killed when you tried talkin' to me in the bushes."

The words left your mouth almost instantly, nearly making you regret your abrupt comment on him. Just as you were about to apologize, the helicopter landed. Simon stood up from his seat, glancing down at you once more before waiting for the rest of the team to jump out of the helicopter. You went along with him, feeling almost nervous after talking to your superior like that. Though, you could see the small crinkle in the corner of his eyes— a small sign that he was smiling underneath his mask, even if it was just a little. His smile was quickly washed away by his stoic facade as he turned his head to you. Did the stone-cold lieutenant let down his walls around you?

"...I don't bite, don't worry." The words left his mouth as he made his way through the base, before leaving you to walk to his quarters.

Fuck, what have you gotten yourself into now?

[jweekgoji]

can a Resquest of TFO Sentinel prime with Cybertronian femme reader, that the reader is pregnant and that is her conjux

TFO!Sentinel/Femme!Reader [hcs]

tw: accidental pregnancy, established relationships, Sentinel is a jerk (as usual), yandere!Sentinel, possessive behavior, very brief mention of abortion, narcissistic!Sentinel, OOC (?). terms used: sire - a father, sparkling - a child. word count: 840 words. a/n: the tw sounds scary but it was funny to write.

Oooh no, poor thing, how did you manage to get pregnant by this guy out of everyone? During one of your shared moments of intimacy, you both found out that none of you have any protection! And you two can't get your servos off each other because everything just feels too good, too right? Don't worry, Sentinel is fast enough not to finish inside you, trust him (never trust him with this).

Jokes aside, in my opinion - Sentinel is not a family person at all. Firstly, he's too busy for something insignificant as a family, and secondly, that would mean you are going to pay less attention to him. A whiney, loud, crying mess of a cybertronian is just not something he would dream of.

So if you do end up being pregnant, it was probably an accident.

I imagine Sentinel being a total dumbass about it. Not because he's uneducated about pregnancy, of course not. He's just used to getting laid with one bot and another without any consequences. Usually they don't call back, and even if they do, who the hell would believe them? Sentinel Prime accidentally knocked you up? Sure, we all trust you, hun.

However, he can't just dismiss his own conjunx. That's the moment where he needs a good amount of time to process everything. Sentinel hates the idea that he would not be able to bring you to every fancy meeting, showing you around for everyone to see like you're his luxury item, something everyone can watch but can't touch. Then, he would have to sacrifice his moments of intimacy with you, since you would be too tired, not in the mood, and dangerous for the sparkling.

His possessiveness over his conjunx is incredibly high and even ridiculous. Sentinel probably keeps you in your shared berthroom more than usual, which at first might sound sparkwarming and very caring of him. Like aww, he wants you to rest and not bother about a thing! He's such a good conjunx. In reality, Sentinel is searching through various doctors on Iacon, the ones he can bribe, so not a single word comes out of the room. He doesn't want his people to talk about his personal life behind his back.

Sentinel, obviously, also makes sure no one but him knows about it. Maybe Airachnid gets to know too, but it's not like you can keep something from her, the spider lady most likely knows about your early signs of pregnancy faster than everyone. Faster than Sentinel, lol.

During the early stages of your pregnancy, Sentinel is pretty stressed out himself, even though he doesn't show it at all. Because, what do you mean, he is going to be a sire? When you actually tell him this, he would loudly laugh in your face. You're totally joking, are you? Wait, why aren't you laughing? ...Oh.

When he realizes it's not a joke, that's where he gets serious. I am not going to sugarcoat it, since he might think about getting rid of it. Quietly and painlessly, it is early enough for the process to go smoothly. No one gets to know about it, and by the end of it, you will go back «to normal», and that's perfect for him.

But the more he thinks about it, the more he gets conflicted. What if someone finds out? Sentinel Prime, the great leader of Iacon, got rid of his own sparkling? He can already taste the bitterness on his glossa, when he reads the articles, various comments, his ratings and support from the parties are getting lower and lower. What a nightmare.

But when Sentinel sees you, sleepily wrapping your servos around his arm, nuzzling against his shoulder, so close to him that he can almost hear the faint beat of a spark inside you, he decides to keep it.

He grows prideful through some amount of time. His conjunx, carrying his sparkling. Sentinel sees his sparkling as something of his own too, just like you are his.

It is too early to think about his sparkling being the next ruler of Iacon, his heir, since, well, Sentinel doesn't plan on leaving anytime soon, but he does like the idea of making a tiny some-sort-of-royal-family of his.

For everyone else, Sentinel Prime is the best sire anyone dreams to get. Why wouldn't he, if he's their protective, hardworking leader? In public, this tiny, soon to be growing family is a role model of how every family on Cybertron should be. Inside the closed doors, what you have is not what someone would call «perfect». Sentinel might claim that he loves you, he genuinely loves you and his sparkling, but you would never tell if he's pretending or not. You might just believe him with this one.

[acidblum]

COLD • A.A.

Wife!Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader (AU) pt2

MASTERLIST DO NOT BUY TLOU

PART I AO3

after what had gone down a week ago, you and your wife go to visit your father-in-law whom seems to have a few guests over and it builds a new fear deep inside you and more chaos ensues in your marital life, forcing you to take a step back, or at least try to do so.. (w/c: 5.2k im so sorry)

WARNINGS: 18+ minors dni..angst, ooc abby anderson, abby calling reader baby, slut. abby choking reader, INFIDELITY, abby hitting reader. bruises. drinking. no smut only angst, dina and ellie cameo, no mention of readers skin colour, or hair texture. (also there will be no part 3)..

A/N: i apologize for being sooo late with this one, life been super hectic lately (which i’m kinda thankful (not really) for otherwise i would’ve never finished this part) it’s been 4 months in the making and i hate to admit that but yah..pls pls tell me your thoughts and inputs on it i wanna know what y’all think about it. if there’s any mistakes or warnings missing please notify me.

After what had gone down you started viewing Abby in a different light entirely, now cold were the arms she wraps around you late at night, the weather was much warmer then how her embrace felt.

She’ll come home smelling of this awful floral perfume when you wore yours in sandalwood and honey. Unfortunately the both of you are on your way to meet with Jerry for the weekly family gathering, on any of the previous ones you would’ve had fun but not now, not after what she did.

Today you woke up with dread filling your body, usually the first thing you feel is the warmth of her body against yours but you can hear her murmuring under her breath.

“make sure to not say anything about what happened last week” she says as she’s tying her bolo tie in front of the mirror in your shared bedroom, the sun peaking through the sheer curtains and reflecting on her french braided hair.

you catch her eyes over your shoulder while you put your light cream boots on “wouldn’t dream of it, don’t worry i already learned the consequences of my actions” your sarcastic tone wasn't news to her— you stand up just to find her face close to yours, hovering over your frame.

“ Did you though?....with that tone of yours it sounds the other way around t’ me” raising an eyebrow at you a dark look washes over her face with her eyes searching in yours for answers.

she closes the distance between you, brushing her cheek against yours—leaving no room for you to take a step back before she brings her cheek against yours, inhaling as much as she could she wraps her strong arms around the front of your neck engulfing your figure. whispering “be nice or else-”

cutting her off “or else what?” A look of hatred all over your face is something you never imagined looking at her with, the love of your life, someone who you thought wanted you, And only you.

smirking at you menacingly “you certainly won’t like the outcome” from where the both of you are standing she looks at the door that leads to the living room where the shotgun is, before giving you a knowing look.

“Oh- and also, a few of my dad’s acquaintances will be there for dinner so make sure to look your best baby” kissing the side of your head she goes back to getting ready, putting the final touches of wearing her trustee black cowboy hat.

Holding yours you follow her. Choosing to stay silent but now it’s ailing you cause Jerry always likes to keep it in the family when it comes to gatherings and outings. Unless she told him something, you choose to brush it off before loading up in Abby's red truck, highly aware of what’s under the seat. Biting your nails she glances at you trying to pay attention to the road with one hand on the steering wheel. “Oh for fuck sa-” reaching out to hold your hand that you’re busy gnawing on.

You flinch, your whole body tensing up when she looks at your face. Seeing the look that she once promised to never be the reason for, blasted all over it “ ‘m not gonna hit you” rubbing her forefingers against the balm of your hand “just’ stop…please” the switch up was crazy and it prompted the lines to start blurring up in your mind, you decide to look outside disassociating as you passed by the big trees and farms thinking that whoever she's been seeing behind your back might live on one of these lands.

Pulling up Jerry's farmhouse you can see his horses roaming freely and a couple of bodyguards in working attire pass by the truck nodding their heads at Abby like some obedient puppets. She passes by them and parks her truck right behind Jerry's, killing the engine. Abby opens the door trying to come and open yours for you but you open it on your own in a haste.

Standing with her arm stretched in front of you, you hear Jerry's heavy footsteps, staring her down before giving her your back and painting a big smile on your face as you walk up the porch where he’s standing with his arms stretched wide open for you with a cigarette dangling off of his left hand “ohh here comes my favourite kid” you try to laugh Hugging him back in a shallow hug. You go on to stand to the side whilst he hugs abby just the same

“Hmph alright..hey dad” smacking her back twice before pulling away and ushering the both of you inside.

“C’mon i need the both of you to meet my new business partner”

Walking into the very expensively decorated living room, funny you’ve already been here many times before marrying Abby with your uncle and also had your wedding in the very spacious backyard but it never stops amusing you how put together it is being kept. You hear the sounds of no more than two people in the dining area, one of them giggling softly with her back towards the both of you.

when you feel Abby slither her hand on your waist to rest there casually without looking at you when the full bearded man notices the three of you walking towards them he starts addressing jerry.

“And here i thought ya’ bailed on me”

“Who me? Isn’t that a dream a’ yours eugene??” they share a chuckle before he turns around and puts his hand on your shoulder. your father in law starts speaking again “this is my very special daughter in law right ‘ere and that's eugene linden my former friend and now work partner” he finally addresses the big elephant in the room which frankly is the prettiest girl with short red auburn hair, the deepest green for eyes and reddest of lips you’ve ever seen.

“Here is his daughter Sara Linden” she takes a glance at Abby noticing how she’s turning fidgety all of a sudden beside you and tips her root beer glass at the both of you in greetings.

smiling back at her tightly you choose to ignore the odd feeling you got from the way she looked at your wife feeling as if you’re missing something—after a moment of silence eugene beckons the both of you to take a seat at the table, you sit beside abby which also puts you facing sara with jerry at the head of the food filled table.

“Sara here has her own company” already at it was jerry when Abby clears her throat and looks across the table at her in an interestingly faux surprise “oh- interesting”. putting your hand on Abby's thigh you act as if nothing is seemingly wrong. you can see her looking at you through your peripheral vision but choose to not look at her, too entranced by the one across the table trying to pinpoint why you feel something is odd. You try to chime in “wow that’s actually amaz-“ just to end up getting cut off by her

“it is! couldn’t imagine doing it any other way luckily i have a supportive family and all that..i’m sure you know quite a lot about family huh?”

Trying to stay composed you can feel abby smirk, the air feels dry and you can feel yourself heaving and your blood boiling. Instead of lashing out you take Abby's left hand and put it on the table to showcase your rings with a bright fake smile.

“Oh my- of course i do..i know plenty as you can see”

Jerry looks at you with a proud look-maybe he does have a soft spot for you- and it just sends your mind spiraling over if Abby's words about her father siding with her had an ounce of truth. maybe you’ll rat her out and see where it goes from there.

“ Now who wouldn’ dream of a daughter in law like mine??” he starts laughing with eugene while sara is glaring at your -still- intertwined hands.

Abby puts her hand on top of yours, patting it twice before pulling away, busying herself with opening another beer bottle. Taking big gulps while you’re still looking at your hand on the table. Seeing Sara looking at you smugly followed by a condescending look.

Eugene and Jerry are in their own world talking about god knows what whilst nursing their beers, the sun is setting and sounds of fireflies buzzing is filling the western humid air. and you can’t help but feel the boredom seeping in.

-

after saying your farewells and goodbyes you’re already halfway to your farm with abby who insisted to drive whilst tipsy when you offered your help, but ooh god forbid she lets you do anything talking all about how she’s ’not that drunk’

trying to put a stop to it “abigail let me drive..the car is literally swayi-”

she glances at you with crazed eyes “oh shut up you fucking slut!” she lands a punch on the steering wheel setting the horn off making you flinch. “don’t even fucking breathe or so god help me” pointing at you.

you roll your eyes at her, turning your back to her,paying no mind to your wife–still– going off at you. noticing how quiet the world is outside of the big car. when a strong fist connects with your face at wild speed. prompting your ear to ring loudly and all you can hear is the loud ringing. It's like the world stopped for a minute, nothing is moving but the trees and the cold air wafting against your burning skin.

a few minutes passed when she finally pulls up to your quiet farm, still in your shock you question how this is the first time she ever actually landed a hit on you, yes she did threaten you but never did she actually do it, trying to catch your bearings, the both of you sitting quietly in the car, blood boiling— you get out of the car. Smacking the door of her beat up truck as hard as you can.

You open the door running straight into the bedroom locking the door behind you.

Taking full strides behind you but facing none other the locked door was Abby “C’mon you can’t do that!” pounding on the door full force, whilst you try to scramble anything you own putting it into your barrel bag that you usually used for when she had work far away from home and you had to tag along. Trying to breathe deeply and ignore her yelling from the other side of the door,heading into the bathroom to check on your bruise, standing in front of the mirror with tears brimming your eyes. You spit in the sink feeling the iron taste fill your mouth, call it whatever you wanted to call it but you had to get out of there..before you ended up 6 feet under somewhere unknown in this godforsaken farm.

Opening the door with the bag in your right hand, you try to hide it behind your back. But she instantly finds it “oh no baby please no-” with knotted brows trying to hold your face in her hands you winch when her left hand rubs the bruise. You whisper “let me go abigi-”

Shaking her head in defiance tears filling her eyes.

“ i did nothing wrong don’t do this”

“You finally did it abby..look at this” pointing at your face you try to search for remorse in her eyes, anything that tells you she’s sorry for what she did..you find nothing.

“You had it coming!” she holds your hair in her fists bringing your face closer to her’s

“look at me” leaning her forehead against yours“Abigail no” you whisper—faint murmurs of her begging you is all you can hear. finally looking into her eyes that are brimming red with them beautiful pouty lips you’ve grown to love and ache for, but you know there’s no going back after this.

“i’ll just..go to dina’s for a while hm?”

“we can talk this ou-”

“just for a few days please abby” you beg “i need this” you try to put your hand on top of hers to make her ease up the harsh hold she’s got on your hair. She scoffs “and what am i supposed to do huh?” thrashing her arms around she throws a vase that is next to her on the floor, shattering it into pieces.

she pauses “Fine alright you can go..it’ll do us some good” searching her eyes “really?” she hums, turning her back towards you with finality.

“i’ll drop you off..c’mon” picking the bag you walk behind her towards the door whilst questioning what came down onto her that made her change her mind. She turns abruptly “on a second thought tho-” before you know it she has the side of your head in her palm and smashes it against the wall. And before you can react everything turns dark.

-

The sun is shining through the curtains furiously, you try to open your burning eyes. Just to find a man with his back facing you in a suit with a lab coat on standing at the door with a bag clutched in his hand talking to Abby whom still didn't notice you stirring awake in the bed you've been tucked into neatly, no longer in your clothes from the previous day -or was it days?- with an IV connected to your wrist. Wincing at the horrible pain you’re feeling on the side of your head and cheeks you try to catch your bearings, listening to what the man is whispering.

“Does your father know of this?”

“No he doesn't…and don't you dare gale”

“Just cause i owe ya’ one” she puts her arm on his shoulder in silent thanks, he nods before he walks out of the door silently. Trying to fake sleeping you close your eyes shut tightly hoping she’ll just not talk to you or call out your bluff.

Staying still you hear the clattering of things around and what seems to be Abby putting on her jacket followed by the thudding of her boots—shes murmuring under her breath and you can hear a faint harsh “fuck” spat right out of her mouth like venom. The door closes behind her and of course she locks the door shut twice. you open your eyes, trying to regulate your heart that's hammering inside your rib cage, making an effort you know you shouldn’t do.

you sit up slowly trying to get accustomed to the harsh lighting. Looking around the bedroom thinking of a way to get out of this hell, in a moment of irrationality you pull the iv needle as fast as you can-gasping at the pinch of pain—you get out of the bed, taking small steps towards the bathroom.

Standing in front of the mirror you think to yourself that your eyes must be deceiving you, your face looks very foreign. A bruise on your cheek with a split lip, followed with a feeling of lightheaded-ness prompting you to clutch the sink with your life. Shaking yourself awake you splash some water on your face. Knowing full well you can’t just sit still and wait till your wife comes back and ends you, it never ends well once it starts.

Calling Dina from the landline phone, you bite your nails. You don't know where abby’s gone and all you can do is hope that she doesn't come back before Dina gets here-if she would even pick up- she does interrupting you clattered thoughts “hey?”

Getting choked up upon hearing her voice you can hear Ellie in the background asking her who it is whilst JJ seems to be fussing. “Dina” whispering as you try to find your voice and failing miserably-She calls your name “breathe f’ me” you try doing as she says. Tears well up in your eyes.

“what happened?..where’s your useless wife now!?”

“Dina p-please can you-” you take a moment sniffing and trying to not think of it and the sudden cruelty that must’ve been brewing all of the past months. “and Ellie come pick m-me up?”

She replies instantly “yes of course..hang in there we’ll be there in a second”

“t-thank you dee” wiping the tears off of your cheeks-you hang up before getting up and opening the closet, taking the first thing you see and putting it on all whilst trying to keep your ears on the door—for if Abby shows up, you see the bag tucked neatly under the bed and take it out thanking god she didn’t put everything you've packed back or else you’d have to leave without anything. Tears are still streaming down your face, wetting your white shirt.

Sitting at the edge of the bed you look around—contemplating if this is the right thing to do.

it hurts physically to admit but you’ve always loved Abby and you’ve always imagined growing old next to her. She made you laugh and was the absolute most loving wife..until she cheated. You never asked if her cheating was emotional but based on the kiss that was on her collar you can tell there was more than just that happening. Maybe it’s time she understood the loss of your love and affection, fuck the consequences and to hell with what Jerry would think of you, he might even send someone searching-you’re well aware of what happens to those who choose to stay-it becomes a non-ending cycle.

A few minutes pass by whilst you’re engrossed with your thoughts before the sound of a car pulling into the driveway fills your ears, jumping on your feet in quick movement that nearly knocks you down just as fast as you stood. Praying that it isn’t Abby you clutch the bag in your arms before walking reluctantly towards the only window in the room-which is facing the driveway- just to see Dina followed by Ellie get out of the car with A look of fear blasted all over their faces.

You start knocking on the window frantically, Ellie noticing your face and -the bruise clear as day- her mouth moving in whispers calling out to Dina whose hand was close to knocking the door. You can hear her muffled words in anger “fucking Abigail-” wiping her face in distraught she gives Ellie a look and a nod towards the car, the taller brunette goes to the backseat taking out what seems to be a club hammer and you can already understand what she’ll be doing-taking ten steps back into the bedroom-

Your mind wanders to Abby, she could come back anytime now and it’ll get more severe. The history that went down between Ellie and Abby was bad and lasted until Abby isolated you and made up plans out of her head whenever you’ve voiced that Dina invited you to her house or any of that sorts. She was very adamant on making you exist as hers and have no other friends-unless it’s her-

The sound of glass shattering fills your ears prompting you to curl inwards against the wall—flashes from the other day filling your vision, Ellie helps Dina step in, who sprints towards you and you can’t help but break down in tears when she hugs you tight, rubbing your back.

“What did she fucking do now? Hm?” in a tone of concern, you can sense how hard she’s trying to stay calm with the way she’s rubbing up and down your arms in consolation. Shaking your head “what didn’t she do?” your voice breaking in agony. Ellie notices the bag in your hand-taking it without a word- pursing her lips in anger “that bitch-we need to get you out of here c’mon”

Gnawing at your lips you can’t take the idea of Abby coming after you out of your mind whilst trying not to dissociate. Dina helps you jump out the window and into the open green field-taking full strides- you get in the car hastily—praying that the blonde doesn’t come back now. Shaking you out of your trance is Dina's hand holding yours from the front seat. You look into the rear view mirror where she looks at you in reassurance.

That's how Dina always was with you, the most caring, loving, understanding. Even after telling her about Abby who always had a pristine history-she still wasn't getting it-but was very considerate about how you felt for your wife. When you showed her the engagement ring she and Ellie gave you the talk-if you were hundred percent sure of your choice- she even took a step further and went with you to pick your wedding attire.

The further the car goes the louder your heart beats against your rib cage-sensing yourself hyperventilating-you try to take deep breaths. Seeing your friends mouths move but unable to hear them clearly, you feel the need to claw at your throat. You can make out Ellie mouthing at you to breathe deep, blinking frantically. All you can see is red, vision going foggy before Dina is suddenly beside you in the backseat whispering in your ear “breathe f’ me” looking at her with tears brimming your eyes with her arm looped around you rocking you left and right, she starts taking deep breaths and it isn't that long before you start following her steps, feeling your ears pause the ringing. “ ‘m good now” you nod sniffing.

Ellie looks back “if she ever comes back i’ll kill her”

“Hell i’ll do it first” Dina retorts with her arms still around you, she glances at you before averting her eyes to the moving road outside “we’re with you” she promises.

“Thank you..the both of y’all” you whisper.

looking back at the farm. observing everything that has gone down in your memory, the marriage, the love and all the growth—all of that for nothing?..

Abigail Anderson..oh how soft and warm inside saying her name made you feel, as if every time you said it and mentioned her you fell more and more in love with her. saying it now makes the hole in your heart expand with hatred and dread.

“oh hell no” Ellie spits out when you notice what she’s talking about. Abby's truck is tailing ellie’s at a dangerous speed. you try to duck down the seat—you can feel your knees weaken. Looking into Dina's eyes “She’s gonna kill me” comes out in a choked whisper.

“Oh i’d love to see her try”

“The bitch knows where we live but don’t you worry”

“Dina baby grab the pistol f’ me”

She does as told by her wife, kneeling and taking said pistol out of the compartment under the chair, checking the glove,which seems to be loaded. A look of terror passes your face-yes you’ve thought and tried to kill Abby but now the possibilities are endless and honestly Dina would take one for you and do it with no hesitations-in the end her and Ellie have Joel and he is no easy man for Abby to try and hurt his daughter and daughter-in-law.

Soon enough Ellie is pulling up to their farm, you’ve been here a handful of times before you married Abby and once after you married her and it was hell because you had to beg her for a whole week to let you visit them and promise you’ll never ask anymore-which you never did afterwards. And every time you saw Dina and Abby was with you she'd tell you that you’re leaving-without even letting you say your goodbyes she’d yank your arm straight to the car. Making you very embarrassed and the next day you’ll call Dina to apologize.

Abby parks right behind Ellie in front of the house, before getting out of the car and coming to ellie's side of the car, tapping twice on the window. Ellie sighs—rolling her eyes before complying.

“Anderson” tapping her fingers against the steering wheel

“Cut the bullshit Williams i know damn well she's there with you”

“Uhh no she isn’t??”

“Yes the fuck she is” going as far as trying to open the car door and side track the brunette-Ellie locking it just as quick. “Not very quick Abigail..gotta work on that” she chuckles in your wife’s face whilst you’re trying to stay silent. Dina breathes before preparing and when Abby takes two steps back. Dina taps Ellie's shoulder to open the lock. Getting out of the door she tucks the pistol in her pants. Walking up to the other one in full strides.

She growls “You fucked up Abigail..big time fucker!”

“Oh c’mon she just fell”

“As if I'll believe your lies” she spits

“How many times did I tell you if you hurt her I'll kill you? Hm??”

The blonde folds her arms in defiance “she’s my fucking wife! I’ll do whatever the fuck i please to her”

Getting fed up you open the door punching your wife in the face as hard as you could, wincing when it hurts your knuckles instead, Ellie gets out of the car after killing the engine.

“You need to leave Anderson, you’re not welcome around here”

“Not without what belongs to me” she glances at you

Dina holds your face in her hand “look at what you did! Is this the way we treat what belongs to us??”

“She’s not going with you”

“Just leave Abby” tears stream down your cheeks “you disgust me”

“And i’ll send you the papers in the mail..make sure to sign them”

“Oh she will” Dina looks at Abby with her nose high.

“Are you out of your mind?” You can see a vein pop in Abby's forehead.

“I’ll always love what we had..but you broke it apart with your own paws”

Abby tries to walk your way—getting stopped when Ellie puts her gun cladded hand on Abby's stomach. “I think you heard her” raising an eyebrow at her “my dad will never allow you to tarnish our marriage” she spits in your friends faces “that’s questionable..oh my! we can go dad for dad how about that Anderson??” she says sarcastically

“Goodbye Abigail” you say in finality. Dina puts her arm around your shoulder-walking you inside their humble farmhouse, Ellie follows after shoving Abigail out the way.

a few weeks passed after what had gone down at your friend's farm—you’re still staying with them. You’ve promised to find a place as quick as you could but got brushed off by Dina saying that it’s best if you continue to stay with them.

You never know when Abigail—whom still didn’t sign the papers..will find a way to nudge herself back into your life. The bruises she gave you look dark and purple-ish as of now, you knew it’ll take some time to heal but also it’s a matter of time until someone sees it and then everyone living within a five-mile radius will know about what your wife has done to you.

“There’s a gathering in the bar today to celebrate miss moo’s 85th birthday” Dina says, shaking you out of the trance you’ve been in “i think you should come with us”

looking down at your hands. “I don't know dee..”

“it’s alright, take your time, but it’ll be a nice change hm? you haven’t been out since that day”

you nod at her from your place at the dining table. looking down at yourself you can see how unkempt you look, maybe it is a good change..hoping nothing bad would happen you make up your mind. Going ahead and taking a cold shower, you wear your usual attire with a button up shirt and a pair of jeans alongside your working boots. making sure to not forget your hat.

maybe it’ll steer their eyes away from the bruises.

-

the ride to the bar was an easy quick one, the bar is well known and everyone around the block frequents it—if there’s any gatherings it’s always done in this bar, owned by Tommy Miller and his wife maria. Even before you’ve grown into who you are now, you used to spend time with Ellie and Dina in this bar watching movies and eating popcorn for free until it was too late to go home—sometimes waking up with Tommy standing with his arms crossed looking down at your guilty—and very hungover faces.

Ellie parks her truck in front of the yellow lit bar which seems to be buzzing with people inside and out—you breathe in..and out holding on for dear life, before heading in with your head low.

The country music was bellowing all across the bar, with Tommy and Joel tending to everyone else you can make out Maria chatting with one of the regular’s to your right.

Ellie chimes “i gotta catch up with the big boss..just a sec’ ” prompting you and Dina to nod before taking your usual table—which all of you agreed upon as teenagers and now has your initials carved into the table top.

“It’ll be real nasty if she showed up here” you mutter

She chuckles before responding “Well it’ll be out of character if she didn’t”

“She’s obsessed” Ellie puts the three beers down before sliding into the chair next to Dina putting her arm on the back of Dina's and you can’t help but notice—now that’s one thing you won’t be able to experience because of her actions.

From your place at the table you see the door open up and lo and behold, none other than Abigail Anderson walks in, all polished up like a mare of a distinctive breed with her hair put in a neat braid—shame she couldn’t be as loyal as horses were. Waltzing in like she owned the place before.. “what the actual fu-” Dina spits out, of course this is the “lady” and it’s Sara.

Everyone around the bar is looking at Abby and her new plaything, some with disgust, some in amusement. Your mind can’t help but wander to her dad and you know too well that he cares too much for his legacy and reputation to allow his daughter to marry a fickle girl like the one that has her hand in your soon-to-be ex-wife’s hand. He tried to come see you but was faced with a very pissed Dina and Joel.

You can see Joel go up to Abby and treat her like any other customer, you also can see Abby smirk at him before telling him what she and her plaything wants which he responds to by pursing his lips into a thin line. When Sara seems to be searching for someone and her eyes fall right on you, prompting you to lift your hat for her to see your face clear as day— a look of fear that gets just as quickly concealed by smugness passes through her face.

Dina tries to jump up before you stop her in her tracks, you shake your head in defiance making her reddened angry face soften and her shoulder’s relax a bit before she mutters “i’m so sorry” you hold her hand in yours “you don’t need to dee” a sad smile graces your face.

“It’s only a matter of time..i feel it in my bones”

Ellie chuckles “amen to that huh?” before taking a few gulps of her beer followed by you doing the same—with a very well concealed heartache bellowing between your rib cage.

© 2024 acidblum

[kleotheundeadone]

Scenario: Teaching Alastor To Kiss

(A/N: This is based off of a previous post I made where I talked about how the main group would kiss, & I concluded that Alastor would be bad at it, lmao. I’m still a simp, so I gotta redeem him a little bit, pun totally intended. This may be ooc, but it’s my hyperfixation, & I shall do as I please with it)

“Remind me again, darling, what is the point of practicing such a trivial activity?”

You sighed a bit, rolling your eyes at the demonic deers tone. Perhaps you should have guessed that Alastor wouldn’t know how to kiss. He had (begrudgingly) admitted to having never been in a relationship before you, so it made sense that he had never been kissed before, & wouldn’t be sure how it works. But it would be nice if the egotistical asshole would shelve his pride for 5 seconds so you could help him through this. “Come on Alastor, kissing is just like any other skill. It takes practice, & patience. So if we’re gonna do this, you gotta work with me. It’s okay to not be good at it at first.” 

A laugh track echoed around the room. “Ha! Oh, you truly do know just how to make me laugh, my dear! As if mashing one's face with another requires much skill. What a ridiculous notion all together!” You rolled your eyes. Why were you bothering with him again? You almost decide to just give up entirely before feeling his hand carefully take hold of yours, pulling your attention back to him. “But I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to subject myself to such foolish flights of fancy. If only just this once.” You smiled softly at him, slowly placing your hand on his cheek. The sound of radio static filled the room for a moment, before lulling down into a subtle hum. “If you don’t wanna do this,” You murmured, squeezing his hand slightly in an effort to calm him. “It’s okay. We really don’t have to.” There was a beat of silence, save for the gentle hum of static, before he nodded, his smile strained. You wouldn’t lie & say it was perfect at first- A couple instances of uncomfortable teeth kissing, fumbling at trying to carefully instruct him on how to hold his head, & reminders to keep his lips closed, but after a few minutes, there was a very noticeable improvement.

“You’re doing much better,” You smiled, rubbing your thumb across his cheek. “Lets give it one more try, alright?” You could feel the air around you buzzing around erratically as the grating sound of radio static filled the room, but nonetheless, Alastor kept on a brave smile & nodded once again, shutting his eyes & leaning forward like you had taught him to. You press your lips softly against his, eyes fluttering shut as you shut out the world & focused on the feeling of his mouth against yours. His kiss was soft, careful, & dare you say unsure. There was a vulnerability in it that was completely out of character for the radio demon. Had anyone else ever been with him in such a revealing state? You knew all too well the answer was no. The fact he was here with you like this was… Would it be too cliche to describe it as... Heavenly? The gentle hum of the radio static turns into the soft melody of strings & what you could have sworn was a saxophone. Was- Was he playing slow jazz??? You chuckled softly, pulling away as a consequence of your giggles. Alastor's ears twitched back & forth slightly as he laughed right along with you. "Forgive me darling, but the silence was dreadful! I simply had to do something about it before it killed me. Again!" You shook your head in disbelief as you reached the end of your little giggle fit, playfully nudging his side. "That's fair. Even I feel a bit awkward when kissing someone in total silence." Alastor hummed softly, stroking your cheek before grabbing you by the jaw, placing his other hand on the small of your back as his smile stretched out wide across his face, his crimson gaze glowing eerily. "Well then, I suppose we'll just have to make some noise, won't we my dear?"

[leighsartworks216]

Deal with the Devil

Sylus x AFAB!Reader

It is almost midnight when I post this. I am... so tired 💀 I don't like the ending but I don't know how I'd fix it and I'm too tired to bother anymore teehee

Warnings: bruises, body dysphoria, chest binding, unsafe binding, teasing, pet names, possibly ooc

Word Count: 1,788

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

You bit the inside of your cheek to hide your wince as you passed the threshold of Sylus’s mansion. You were sure he already knew, with Mephisto always keeping an eye on you. You just hoped he didn’t know the full story.

You leaned against the wall and avoided looking down while you toed off your boots. The paint on the wall was as dark as the shadows in your worst nightmares. Your bruises would probably be just as dark.

“Welcome back, kitten,” Sylus greeted as he walked down the hall to greet you. “Was your apartment too far away?”

You shrugged noncommittally, but the sharp pain in your ribs nearly tensed your shoulder to permanently cover your ears. You hoped he wouldn’t notice. He would.

“This was closer.” Whether that was true or not, you have no idea. You don’t meet his eyes as you start to walk down the hall toward your room. There, you can take care of yourself in peace. “Go back to bed.”

He huffed, but there was very little amusement in the sound. His footsteps trailed right behind you. “Please, try not to sound so enthused, it’ll go straight to my head.” He tilted his head, white hair just catching the edge of your peripheral vision. “Your mission was a success, I presume, considering you’re still alive.”

You wished he’d just leave you alone. “Yup, a huge success,” you droned.

“No injuries, then?”

“If I say no, will you leave me alone?”

“If it’s the truth…” He pauses. You can hear the smirk in his voice. “No.”

“There’s no point answering, then.”

He chuckles. “You haven’t given me any incentive, kitten. How does leaving you alone benefit me, hm? There’s a give and take to these things, you understand.”

The climb up the stairs was agony. You tried not to let it show how bad your knees wobbled with each step, how you gripped the handrail like you were trying to strangle it, how your breath deepened as you struggled to catch it.

“I see you’re stubborn, as usual.”

You take larger steps to get to your room, despite the consequences. You turn the knob, rush in, and shove the door closed. Except, it didn’t close. That would mean the universe giving you even an ounce of luck today.

He pushes against the other side, effortlessly opening the door once more, even as you leaned against it with all your weight. It shuts with a light click, with Sylus on the inside.

“Show me,” he demands. You lean against the wall, panting through your nose and determinedly looking away. He sighs, irritated. “You can show me willingly, or I can tie you up and find out for myself. Your choice.”

You bite your cheek again. No matter how badly you wanted to keep it hidden away, keep your secrets close to your chest (literally), you could have gone to your apartment if you really wanted to keep it from him. It wouldn’t be hard to close yourself in a room with no windows, free from the prying eyes of that damned crow, and deal with it yourself.

And yet, you came here.

Despite his threat, he’s patient as he waits for you to make a choice. His red eyes seem to see right through you as they study your labored breaths, your minute giveaways of pain. Your hands trembled faintly by your sides, despite your subtle efforts to shake it away.

Eventually, you sigh. “Fine.” You don’t hide your wince as you push off of the wall, instinctively reaching for him for support. His hands grab your waist, keeping you upright. “Help me… take off my shirt.”

Sylus chuckles despite the tension in his brow as he helps you over to the bed to sit down. “Is it that difficult to ask for me to undress you?” He swiftly works to undo the buttons of your shirt.

His eyes flicker to every glimpse of exposed skin. There were ugly bruises, to be sure, but he’d never known you to let a few bruises slow you down. And yet he could see no sign of blood from an open wound anywhere. He frowns deeper.

“What were you fighting?”

You fiddle with your gloves, slowly working them off your fingers. “Just some knaves.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Same knaves did this? Did you forget how to dodge, kitten?”

You glared up at him. Really, it was all the dodging that had caused this. If you’d had a partner, you’d probably be fine. You could have stayed at a distance and provided cover fire. But they’d shown up rather suddenly, without giving enough time to worry about finding a partner.

With the last button undone, Sylus lifted your left arm and carefully slid the long sleeve off your body, before repeating it with the right. He dropped it beside you on the bed.

“Don’t tell me you wore that while you fought.” His voice was so low, threatening. It was almost a growl.

“I didn’t have time to take it off before the fight,” you defended yourself. You toss your gloves aside and reach under your chest binder to feel your ribs. The rough fabric rubbing against your skin as you jostle it feels like sandpaper, grating away at your flesh. You wince again, trying not to shift too much. “This is just a minor fluke; it won’t happen again.”

He scoffed. “Yes, a minor fluke. And how long do you wear it for, day by day? I’m sure you take breaks, right?”

“I take breaks!”

“Sweetie, one or two minutes with it off does not make up for hours with it on.” He goes to grab the wide straps of the binder.

You swat his hands away, staring up at him with wide eyes and covering your already-covered chest. “I’m naked under this!”

He leans forward, face close to yours as he grabs your hands and pulls them away. “Please, don’t tempt me, sweetie. You’ve already run my patience thin.”

“I can take it off on my own.”

“Really? You can’t take off your shirt by yourself, but you can lift your arms and wriggle out of a compression binder all on your own? It’s a miracle.”

He doesn’t wait this time for you to approve before he grabs the straps and starts working the binder over your head. You try not to fight him, but being exposed in front of Onychinus’ leader wasn’t exactly on your bucket list.

He alternates between pulling at the straps and the bottom hem, though he’s careful for now not to touch your skin. He thinks if he does, your face would go from pink to crimson in a heartbeat.

Once the stiff fabric is over your head, your arms are maneuvered slowly through the arm holes. It finds a place on top of your discarded shirt.

He doesn’t ask before grabbing the sides of your ribcage.

“Sylus!” you scold. When you try to push an arm away, he only holds on tighter, making you hiss.

“The sooner I’m certain you haven’t broken anything, the sooner you can get dressed.” His face is tense with concentration as he feels along each rib, head shifted from side to side as he checks the dark bruises painting your skin.

He was right: your face is bright red.

He steps away after a minute and heads to the closet. “Nothing feels broken, but you’ve bruised your ribs. Which means,” he returns with an oversized shirt and begins helping you into it without prompting, “you’re sticking around for a while, kitten.”

“I can’t,” you dismiss, fluffing the shirt in the front to hide your chest. “I have work.”

“Hm. Who’s that doctor friend of yours? I’m sure he’d be delighted to lock you in a hospital room for a few weeks.”

You glare up at him. “You wouldn’t.”

He makes a show of pulling out his phone and clicking through it. He turns the screen toward you for a second, long enough for you to process Zayne’s contact. He clicks the call button and brings it up to his ear.

You scramble to stand on the bed and pull the phone from his hand. He lets you, smirking with smug triumph as you end the call and toss the phone up by the headrest. You’re eye-to-eye with him as you pour all your anger and hatred into your stare.

“Three weeks bedrest,” he says.

“Two.”

“Three.”

You breathe in deeply through your nose, wondering if your hands would fit around his neck.

“Maybe the deal isn’t sweet enough for you?” he muses with a head tilt. “If a flat chest is really your desire, I’ll have the best surgeon in the field here to consult you as soon as you’re healed.”

Your breath caught in your chest. “Wha-” You grabbed onto his shoulder to keep yourself from falling. “Are you serious? But- But the surgery is so expensive!”

He chuckles. “Sweet, you insult me. Now…” He steps closer, running his fingers over your jaw. “Do we have a deal?”

The phone began ringing behind you.

You searched his eyes for any sign of a bluff, but came up empty. Slyus was nothing if not a man of his word. And he did have the money; you remember him telling you to bid higher at the auction when you were first getting to know each other. That sort of cash would take you several months of saving up every cent of your paycheck.

The deal felt too good to be true. “What do you get out of this?”

“Aside from making sure you’re not going to irreparably injure yourself one day?” He hummed. “Nothing at all. Think of it as a gift, if that makes you feel better.”

A gift… Could you really accept something so grand?

Your fingers mindlessly tap against his shoulder. You sigh, the feeling of defeat and elation warring inside you. “Deal.”

His hand moved from your jaw to you chest and pushed, plummeting you into the soft expanse of bed behind you. You cried out as gravity took hold, bouncing on the mattress. You blinked and Sylus was right over you, one hand beside your head keeping himself propped up while the other reached to grab the still-ringing phone. He accepted the call and put it to his ear.

Your heart raced. Did he lie to you? You could hear the muffled voice of Zayne reciting his standard hospital greeting.

“Sorry, I called the wrong number.” He didn’t wait for a response before hanging up. The phone was slipped back into his pocket before he caged you in completely. “Don’t look so scared, kitten. I keep my promises.”

[pepperyduck]

west end girls - hiromi higuruma

synopsis: after you filed for divorce, hiromi's been acting strange. he's got a problem that only you can fix.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: potentially triggering content, nsfw, angst, guns, reckless actions, unhealthy marriage, unhealthy relationships/attachment/obsession, hiromi is cray, unprotected sex, finishing inside, riding, on a couch, hiromi is a bad husband, very much bojack horseman behaivor, ooc hiromi. (18+ mdni!)

notes: this is me rambling and i'm sorry. i'm floating rn. love u guys. pls read the warnings. mwah. inspired by the song west end girls by petshop boys.

masterlist

although the wind was chilly outside, you buried your nose in your scarf and kept walking down the street towards the firm. it was early morning, birds chirped lightly in the trees, and you found yourself feeling off that day. you didn’t know why.

you didn’t know why, until you passed a certain coffee shop you used to visit often.

inside, pure chaos had erupted, it seemed.

a familiar man to you, and a stranger – or maniac – to the others inside, held a gun. it wasn’t pointed anywhere but to the temple of his head. tables had been knocked down, chairs had been kicked, people had been pushed into the corners of the shop, too scared to move or run away. everyone was frozen in fear, except for him.

“hiromi.”

your voice was cold as ice as you called his name from the front doors. hiromi’s back was facing you, allowing for a perfect silhouette of a man gone mad, with a barrel of a gun kissing his head. but at the sound of your voice – oh, he could go on about how much he loved your voice – the gun was dropped, and he slowly turned around.

stunts like that weren’t out of the ordinary for hiromi since the two of you had split. not divorced yet, just separated – at least, that’s what he told everyone. in reality, the date to finalize the split was creeping up. the closer it got, the more manic hiromi had turned, going from soaking in his bathtub with his suit on, to buying a gun, to now threatening to use that gun on himself in the place you first met. it seems like a wild pipeline, but really, there’s too many incidents to be listed here.

there were a lot of things that made hiromi higuruma go crazy, and unfortunately, you were one of them.

bystanders in the coffee shop looked at you as if you were the insane one, as you walked over to hiromi and snatched him out of the building, muttering a very bitter apology to everyone in there. as you touched your ex-husband’s arm, the gun consequently fell to the floor, causing the clip to fall out with a clatter.

there were no bullets inside.

yet the police had showed up minutes later, after you and hiromi were far down the sidewalk.

hiromi walked with a slump, hands hidden in the pockets of his blazer, unprepared for the winter weather that was only growing colder. you stepped alongside him, voice muffled by the thick scarf of your favorite color as you berated him. weirdly enough, you had kept your job at hiromi’s firm, even after the initiation for divorce. you had a good standing in it, and hiromi loved you too much to fire you, even if you did want to escape him. maybe one day, you’d be able to move cities, but then, you felt as if you didn’t have many places to go.

the thing is, you always were hiromi’s saving grace. it wasn’t healthy for either of you. he was too attached, using you as his lifeline, always needing your attention rather than the attention of anyone else. you told him countless times to move on, and he still continued to show out, and force you to be his superwoman and come save him.

you still loved him, but he drained you, so, so badly. that’s why you filed for divorce in the first place. however, it always felt like…you’d never be able to fully get away from him. hiromi acted as a lost puppy, briefly following it’s mother whenever it found her.

the city you and hiromi stayed in – separately, by the way; you had an apartment on the opposite side of town from him – was big. you had moved there with him after college when he proposed to you a few days after graduation. you found the city to be enjoyable, there was never a quiet moment in the streets of the most populated portions. boredom was never a problem.

hiromi, however, easily found the city overwhelming. especially when he was by himself. without you.

big lights, unfamiliar faces on billboards, whispering voices. car horns were blared, and breaks squealed every other second. sounds, so many sounds, and visuals. it was all too much for hiromi. all too much.

too much.

too. much.

maybe it was you, or the liquor. possibly it was the case he had lost earlier that day, or the phone call he received from an unhappy client, or the front office clerk that threw her badge at him and quit. either way, hiromi was in the middle of the street, drunkenly walking in front of and in between the traffic-jammed cars, flipping random people off who yelled at him. a true, rebellious, and vulgar, display of how much he had gotten away from himself.

he no longer cared about anything else in the world in that moment.

nothing. not himself, or you.

at least, until he saw your frame storming towards him. like a switch in his mind, the instant he saw you, he remembered what life was about. with your pretty heels and pretty dress, a few of your friends he had met before – and that were in your wedding – trailed out of the bar, watching as you forcefully dragged him back to the sidewalk.

“what the hell is your problem, hiromi? what the fuck? you always do this when—are you drunk?” you shot questions left and right at him, and all hiromi could do was look at you with his stupid huge eyes.

he loved you.

on the ride back to his place, and when you told him to calm the fuck down, all he was able to think about was how much he loved you. even if you hated his guts or found him to be nothing but a pest. you truthfully didn’t feel that way, though.

you often pondered about whether you should force hiromi to get help. taking into consideration everything that was on his plate every day, he needed something to make him snap out of it. hiromi was no longer the man you fell in love with. he wasn’t the same hiromi who got flowers, or took you out on dates, or wrote you notes about his love.

hiromi had turned into nothing more than an unrecognizable maniac.

unrecognizable. that would be the only adjective to describe your ex-husband when you opened your apartment door and let him inside. he had kept an indescribable expression constantly for the past months, one of which had immediately faded upon being let into your space. you noticed how he had gotten a haircut, swooped it back into its normally kempt style, and his face was freshly shaved. he had cleaned up nicely at your call.

only a few minutes into the painful conversation you planned, the both of you were crying your eyes out, spewing to one another about concerns and how hiromi felt, the complexity of his emotions and why he acted so strangely.

“i-i just…want you to get better, hiromi. you aren’t…you anymore,” you cried, honesty the only thing leaving your lips. you tightly held onto hiromi’s hand, nearly cutting off the circulation to his thin fingers.

and again, the switch in his brain flipped. a look in his eye appeared, or more like the pain and suffering he had held on to finally disappeared from his gaze, leaving nothing but the pure eyes of the hiromi higuruma you had fallen in love with. he raised his free hand to your cheek, cupping it ever-so-slightly and ran his thumb over the warm, tear-stained flesh.

“i’m okay, my love, i’m here.”

said through teary eyes, hiromi tried his best to comfort you. he wasn’t sure what was up with him, or if he would ever get better any time soon, but all that mattered to him in those moments was you. he pet your hair when you fell over to hug him, crying into his chest at the possibly false assurance. while you cried into him, hiromi looked around your apartment, relishing in the ability to see how you lived again.

against your better judgement, one thing ended up leading to another, as if both of you had been waiting for this opportunity ever since you filed for divorce.

hiromi had his hands on your waist, helping to bounce you up and down slowly and sensually, burying his length into you ‘til you hit the hilt. intimate, passionate, it all felt comparable to your wedding night. one of your hands rested atop his own, swiping over the gold wedding band he still sported.

you looked so beautiful, only wearing an old t-shirt, biting your bottom lip as he always made you do. the thought of a condom or even pulling out was long gone, he was going to stay inside of you until he felt fixed. who knew the solution to all his problems was sex?

moving you just a bit faster, hiromi quickened the pace, bucking his hips up into you to meet your walls sliding back down around his cock. he filled you up so nicely, soft tip of his hitting that sweet spot you couldn’t get anyone else to. your legs burned and shivered, overcome with the feeling of being stretched out so well, so familiar again.

“’hiro, mm-, please,” you absentmindedly begged, asking for something you didn’t know.

“please what, pretty?” hiromi’s voice was as monotone as ever, perfectly controlled although he felt himself getting closer and closer to the line of bursting inside of you.

you slumped your body over hiromi’s, crashing into his chest again, legs going halfway limp as you used all your strength to try to move on your ex-husband’s raging hard cock. hiromi took this opportunity – a familiar one of his past – and snaked his hands to under your thighs that were spread on either side of him. he held you up at a perfect height, and began hammering into you from below, planting his feet in the ground.

your little ouuu’s and whimpers swirled into his ears, making hiromi feel proud as ever, and beckoning him closer to the edge. you didn’t care what happened after that point, you just never wanted the feeling of your ex-husband pounding into you to end.

each grueling stretch felt heavenly, forcing you open in just the right way, faster, faster and faster. even as much of a romantic as the both of you were, hiromi enjoyed setting a brutal pace much more than being slow. every fast, deep stroke your ‘hiro gave you, was felt with intensity you hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever. even as your body went limp against him for good, he kept you help up with whatever strength he could find.

“feels so good, ‘hiro—gonna cum,” you whined, cutely pecking his neck after. he found your little weak kisses so endearing, it was a small detail he looked forward to every time the two of you made love. the pace never faltered, hiromi kept pounding up into you, forcing the bubbles in your lower abdomen to begin to pop.

“it’s okay, pretty, cum for me,” he muttered, always a little embarrassed about dirty talking with you. but nevertheless, his words made you topple over the edge, gushing all around hiromi’s length. he fucked straight through your orgasm, still never slowing down, making you grasp reality at the feeling of being overstimulated.

immediately, you began to whine again, “too much, ‘hiro, ah—uugh.” pitiful tears rolled over your lower eyelids, staining your cheeks for the second time that night. those tears were fully pleasure-written, though.

“gonna cum, my wife,” hiromi grumbled, the last two words leaving his mouth as little less than a whisper. little mind was paid to the fact he had no intention of pulling out, the realization coming to you when you felt ropes of your ex-husband’s cum shoot straight into you.

hiromi relaxed after a few more thrusts, dropping your motionless body back onto him fully. you stayed gripped to him for a few moments, contemplating about the moments before when lust had taken over – but really, you figured it wouldn’t be so bad if all this would become a little accident.

he was – was – your husband, after all.

after a few long minutes, hiromi picked you up, just as he always did, and carried you to your bed. he carefully laid down with you, soaking in the feeling of being warm under the blankets with his wife. he watched your frame as you fell asleep, cuddled into his toned frame, his arm securely around you.

he failed to fall asleep for a while.

and when you rolled over away from him in your sleep, getting comfy in a different position, away from him – he felt off again. hiromi hated that feeling. it was uncomfortable, and just…odd.

hiromi higuruma couldn’t help it that night when he snuck out of your bed, and out of your apartment, to go back home. he left you.

he figured he would wake up later and feel guilty about it, and frantically beg you to accept him again. but then, once more, nothing mattered to hiromi.

he did think about how you’d be when you woke up. will you try to talk to him? will you cut him off for leaving like that? will you act as if it never happened? he saw you as a strong woman, it’d be easy for you to let go of him in an instant, right?

hiromi was probably wrong, but he still ended up by himself at the end of the night. he shivered alone in his bed, dressed in all the clothes he had on earlier that night, thinking. he always thought too much.

[melrodrigo]

A little scorpion goes a long way - W.A.

Wednesday Addams x Fem!Reader

Summary: You bring back an old friend.

Warnings: ooc wednesday, R being a simp

Word Count: 2k+

A/N: I’m bored, here’s a little Wednesday oneshot like promised!

Learning at Nevermore Academy had its perks and downsides, but one of your favorite things about the school was how little they cared about students’s powers.

You had no face? You’re just another student at Nevermore. You’re a freak emo girl? Doesn’t matter. You could revive things from the dead? Who cares?

You; were apart of the latter group. It’s not that you were so powerful to the point you could bring actual human beings to life, but enough to save a dying plant or two. Only, anytime you did it, there would always be ass-kicking consequences.

You’d always have a terrible headache and a killer cold after. Skin all colorless, resembling the look of a character from a Tim Burton movie.

When you had first met your now girlfriend of 11 months Wednesday Addams, she had shared a heartfelt story about her pet scorpion, Nero, and how he had gotten killed by some idiot normie kids.

It was heartbreaking. You swore then and there that as soon as you got the chance you’d try and find the scorpion and bring it back to life.

It also just so happened that yours and Wednesday’s one year anniversary was coming up, pegging the perfect opportunity for such a gift.

It was really hard to try and discreetly ask Wednesday where she had buried her pet scorpion without sounding suspicious.

So you didn’t.

Instead, you called up her father. It wasn’t any less scary, since he was still an Addams, and the father of your girlfriend, but at least you knew he was a bit softer than the rest of the family.

“Hellomr.addamscouldipleaseaskyouifyoyreawarewherewednesdayburiedherpetscorpionforagift?” You stumbled out, completely unintelligible.

“Hello? Who is this?” Came his booming voice from the other side of the phone.

A long paused sounded, you trying to calm down and wipe your sweaty palms against Wednesday’s sheets.

“Hey Mr.Addams, it’s YN. Would you happen to know where Wednesday buried her pet scorpion all those years ago? I need it for a gift im making her.” You said, as slowly as you could, but it still came out as a bit of a ramble.

He barked out a laugh, and your face flushed bright red. You thanked the lords that you decided to do this on the phone instead of in real life.

“Of course darling, it’s right in our backyard. Would you like me to send it to you? Me and Morticia need an idea for date night anyway. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled with grave digging!”

You let out a relieved sigh and a slight chuckle, shaking your head at the Addams Family antics.

“Yes, that would be amazing, thank you Mr. Addams.” You breathe in relief.

“Please, call me Gomez.”

There was a pause of uncertainty on your end before answering, “Of course….Mr.Gomez.”

A sound uncanny to a door swinging open had you turning around hurriedly, and hanging up before Mr. Gomez could even utter another word.

Wednesday stood there, looking unbothered; eyes half lidded until they locked with yours.

“What’s wrong with you? Why do you look like that?” She asked, eyes narrowed. You smiled a little at her tone, because it wasn’t one of annoyance, but rather of worry. Maybe you were turning her a bit soft after all.

You smile shyly, striding up to Wednesday but stopping just short in front of her, giving her time to pull away if she wanted.

When she didn’t, and in fact, leaned a little closer; you closed the distance and gave her a peck on the cheek.

“I’m amazing.” You breathed against her cheek, lips moving toward her neck.

She titled it up a bit, giving you more access to wander around as you please. Rigid hands found your waist, and she squeezed them slightly.

You pull away grinning.

“Oh no, you’re not getting it yet. Plus, tomorrow’s our anniversary, don’t you want it to be extra romantic?” You teased.

She let out a huff and crossed her arms, clearly displeased.

“I dont see what difference one day has.” She mumbled under her breath, still staring you down.

“As romantic as that is, I have to go.” You tell her, squeezing her finger once. All she does is give you a curt nod and returns to her desk.

-

A thing you learned later that day was that Gomez Addams was a man of his word. Not even a couple hours later, a package had arrived for you.

Inside the little shoe box was a photo of the couple grave digging, smiling wider than you’ve ever seen them; and the corpse of a certain infamous scorpion.

“Nero! Ha!“ You exclaimed, jumping up and down in excitement. You inspected the little scorpion, it was tiny enough; should be no sweat to bring it back.

You were extremely wrong.

Considering the thing was dead for almost 10 years; it took an absurd amount of energy out of you.

God if you thought bringing plants back to life was hard, this thing was something you’ve never seen before. Strong and vicious, shooting a sharp pain through you as you connected the back of the scorpion to the palm of your hand.

At one point you seriously thought you were going to pass out. Sweat formed at your face and your vision was starting to get a little blurry.

And to add salt to the wound, the moment the scorpion was brought back, it decided to jump the person who had so graciously brought it back to life.

Leaving multiple scars on the side of your neck, before you could wrestle it away from you and into the pet box you had bought the week before.

Holy shit. I need a rest.

With your vision blurred and head pounding a million miles per second, you collapsed onto the bed, letting the world encompass you in a dark black haze.

-

You’re awaken the next day by an uninterested looking Wednesday, (that might just be how she always looks) hovering over you in the bed. You roll over in the bed to get a better view of her.

“Oh hey, Wends.” You greeted, trying to get up and talk to the girl properly, but letting out a groan as you clutched the side of your stomach in pain.

You pulled the sheets down to check your side, looking for the cause of your pain. What greeted you was a huge dark blue bruise that spread from the top of your rib cage to your waist.

“Huh. That’s weird.” You mumble.

You didn’t notice Wednesday’s eyes widening at the sight, since you were a bit busy poking at the wound.

She quickly slapped your hand away, and pushed you back down into the bed. Silencing you with a press of her pointer finger on your lips.

“Don’t move.”

You don’t think you’ve ever seen Wednesday move so quick, even back when she was looking for the hyde all those months ago. You stared at her in awe as she rummaged through your belongings, and pulled out a first aid kit.

Nevermore had employed one in every students dorm, seeing as to there were plenty of mini medical emergencies that would occur on a daily basis.

“Thing. Go get my Magical Beings 101 textbook. It’s located on my desk.”

Thing quickly hurried off, no doubt due to the harsh tone Wednesday used.

“I’m fine, Wends. Really. I’ll be up and running in a couple days.” You said as you reached over, trying to stroke her hand.

Surprisingly, she didn’t pull away, but instead gripped it tighter. She was silent for a moment, no sound except for your heavy breathing.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice? I know you used your powers YN. What I can’t seem to figure out is what for. Why are you so ill?” She asked, eyebrows furrowed.

And if you thought your heart couldn’t get any bigger, you were wrong. The way Wednesday was looking at you, all worried glances and intense eyes, you think you could pass away right then and there.

She cared.

As you tried to get up, ignoring the way Wednesday surged forward to stop you, quickly pushing you back into the bed. You didn’t put up much of a fight.

“This is gonna suck, and I wanted to save it for a more romantic setting, but I don’t think I’m leaving bed today.” You stated, while Wednesday was still eyeing you like you would get up again.

“Could you pass me the box under my desk Wends? But you have to promise to close your eyes.” You murmur, bat your eyes at her.

At that Wednesday rolled her eyes, and you were a little relieved to see a familiar Wednesday expression.

“And why is that?” She inquired.

Um.

“My brain is too meshed to come up with an excuse. It’s for our anniversary, but please don’t look, I wanna see your reaction.” You admitted, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt.

With a huff, Wednesday moved to your desk and closed her eyes, which took a while for her to actually find the box and bring it out.

“Over here.” You say, in case your voice would help her sense of direction better.

“I’m dating an imbecile who thinks I’m an imbecile.” Wednesday mutters under her breath, not aware that you had heard.

Wednesday walks over and stops in front of you, as you pat the surface on the bed next to you.

She gets the hint, and after some reluctance sits down and waits peacefully.

It’s a little domestic, and your heart starts beating faster.

You take the box from her hands and try your best to cover the clear part, then look over to Wednesday.

“Okay, you can open them now.” You say.

Wednesday’s eyes are flicked open in an instant, her peaceful face turning back into her usual resting glare.

She squints at the box, and tilts her head. You push it forward on the bed a little, gesturing for her to open the lid.

She does, and when she peers inside, her eyes widen. She dips her hand in the box and whispers, “Nero, flip.”

When the scorpion walks up to her and does a little turn of it’s body, you guess it could be called a flip, Wednesday gasps.

“It is you.” She says, sounding star struck.

And then as if just remembering you were there, she looks at you, with more emotion than you’ve ever seen before.

You feel your knees get a little week, even though you haven’t even been standing. Wednesday looks in awe.

“Happy Anniversary Wends. I didn’t know where I could find Nero so I called up your dad, I hope that’s oka-“

You’re cut off by Wednesday engulfing you in a fierce hug, and she would never admit it, but you swear you felt something damp on your shoulder.

You let the moment be, don’t tease her about it. Caressing her back a little as she leans just slightly into you.

“You’re an idiot.” She whispers, and you shiver at the sensation of her lips on your bare skin.

“Yeah I know, but you love me.” You say with a cheeky grin.

Wednesday doesn’t say anything back,but you don’t mind. Words had never been her way of expressing love, and having her here, teary eyed and smiling; albeit a tiny smile, was confirmation enough she felt the same.

You didn’t end up getting to do the things on your list for your anniversary, but in a way, what you ended up with was much better.

The rest of the day was spent with Wednesday in your arms, and a tiny scorpion in hers.

It was getting sort of uncomfortable, the position you were in, but you didn’t dare move away.

When Enid had walked in, looking for her disappearing roommate, and spotted you two asleep in each other’s arms. She bit back a squeal and snapped a quick photo on her phone.

You later asked for the photo and set it as your lockscreen.

It was a real pain bringing Nero back, but considering everything, you would definitely do it again.