#do you get me??????? am i making sense?????????????

[premiumbitch]

"B★BY YOU'RE THE B★DDEST GIRL" ⸝⸝ ...Beauty things to script

full credit & inspiration goes to @saisiprincessa <3

BITCH, WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?! Who gave me the right to be this damn pussy-clenching, soul-snatching, mind-warping gorgeous?! Like, be so for real right now. Every single inch of me? Immaculate. It’s almost unfair how I walk into a room and immediately become the center of the universe. Like, sorry babe, I can’t help that I’m the main event.

You don’t look at me, you worship me. I AM THE DREAM. I am beauty, brains, body, power, seduction, and mystery all packed into one flawless package. If they dared to make a mold of me, they’d have to destroy it on the spot—it would be a pitiful insult to my unparalleled PERFECTION, which simply cannot be replicated.

And don’t get me started on the way people fold for me. I say jump, they ask how high. I smile, and they lose all common sense. One look? They’re hooked. One touch? It’s over. I could ruin lives if I wanted to—and let’s be real, I probably have. Not my fault they can’t handle all this.

I move like royalty ‘cause I am royalty. My presence alone is a gift. I don’t lift a finger—things just happen for me. VIP treatment? Automatic. First-class everything? Of course. Doors open, drinks appear, bills get paid. Just for existing. Just for being me.

I step outside, and men fumble their words. Women try not to stare too hard. People make workouts to look like me. Doctors get requests for my features. My name is whispered in rooms I haven’t even stepped foot in. People see me and IMMEDIATELY feel insecure—it’s not my fault, babe, blame genetics.

I am THE blueprint. THE standard. You can't strive to be exactly like me. My body is what Instagram models are trying (and failing) to achieve. My face is what FaceTune was created for. My energy? Unmatched. My aura? Untouchable. My confidence? So loud it makes people shake.

As soon as I grace a room with my presence, eyes lock, mouths drop, and suddenly everybody forgets what they were doing. I make people nervous without even trying. Just a glance, a smirk, the flick of my wrist, and boom—somebody’s in love.

I wake up flawless, go to sleep iconic. I don’t need filters, angles, or good lighting—baby, I am the moment. Every photo? A masterpiece. Every mirror? A love letter to myself. I could roll out of bed and still look better than half these girls on their best day.

And these other girls? They stay pressed. They act like they don’t see me, but I know they do. They talk, they stalk, they try—but let’s be clear, there’s only one me. I’m the blueprint, the one they measure themselves against.

Don't think I don't notice the girls who study me like I’m a whole syllabus, trying to decode the formula. But there isn't a blueprint for this—either you got it, or you don’t. And I got it.

And these men? These women? Losing their minds tryna be in my presence. I could sneeze, and somebody would cash app me just for existing. From bags to jewelry to whole-ass cars, they offer before I even ask. Billionaire sons? CEOs? Athletes? Begging. They know a once-in-a-lifetime when they see one.

Jealousy? Oh, it’s there. But I don’t compete, I dominate. The envy, the whispers, the imitation—it doesn't faze me. They can watch, they can study, but they can’t be me. I’m the prototype, the standard, the one they all wanna be but can’t touch.

This ain’t regular pretty. This is war-starting, history-making, legend-building beauty. The kinda face that gets songs written, statues built, kingdoms lost. Pretty privilege? Nah. Pretty power.

Other girls break their necks trying to figure out how it’s even possible for one woman to serve this much face, body, and energy. But let me tell you something, sweetie, when you’re me, you move differently. People might lose their minds over me, but my security is tighter than a vault—mentally, physically, spiritually, all that. You can’t touch me, even if you wanted to. The jealousy? Cute. The obsession? Predictable. But it never phases me. "The universe knows better than to let anyone try me, because when you’re this blessed, nothing bad can even get close. Call it divine protection or just the power of being that girl, but either way? I’m untouchable.

"Everybody wanna know me. Wanna be me. Wanna please me. They hold doors, pull out chairs, throw money just to get a second of my time. Even the haters can’t help but admire. They talk & they watch but they still losing. ‘Cause you can copy the outfit, the pose, the walk—but you can’t copy me.

I leave ‘em speechless, stuck, obsessed, weak-in-knees. "I got exes still crying, still checking my page, still hoping I look their way again. Love, I don’t double back, I level up. And these new ones? Willing to risk it all—careers, relationships, sanity—just for the chance to say my name.

You think I’m exaggerating? Ask your man why he’s been quiet. Ask your girl why she suddenly wanna switch teams. It’s me, bitch. IT’S ALWAYS ME. And if that’s annoying?? GOOD. BECAUSE A BITCH THIS PERFECT DESERVES TO BE LOUD ABOUT IT.

[lilianne-tarot]

PICK A CARD: How Will Your future spouse express jealousy

How to Pick Your Pile: Take a deep breath, clear your mind, and look at the images above. Which one pulls you in the most? Trust your gut! Once you choose the image, The number below your chosen image is your pile. If more than one catches your eye, that just means there’s extra tea for you—go ahead and read both!

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── .✦ PILE I

OHHHH this pile is defination of “I’m jealous, but I will NEVER admit it.” Your future spouse is doing CRAZY STUFF to keep their jealousy under control, but you will feel it. Oh, you WILL feel it.

BABY. This is a long-game kind of love. A soulmate kind of bond. And listen, when someone sees you as their person, their one-and-only, their forever, there is no way in HELL they’re just sitting back while some random tries to get cute with you. i see that your people pile number 1, they don’t react right away. Oh no, no, no. They marinate in that jealousy in their mind. The 7 of Pentacles tells me they watch, observe, process before making a move. Like, imagine someone getting a little too friendly with you at a party. Your future spouse, Sitting there, giving a polite but stone-cold stare, studying every move of that person. They’re literally taking mental notes: Did you laugh a little too hard at that joke? Did you lean in slightly? Are they standing too close? But instead of acting on impulse, they sit there, pretending they’re totally fine (they are NOT fine). When i look at 2 of cups illustration, i feel like, they realy enjoy your company, like A LOT, and when someone else invades this space, they hate that with all their heart. 

 OH MY GOD THIS IS SO FUNNY. This is that passive-aggressive, sulking, “I’m not mad, I just think it’s funny how…” behavior. They are so in their jealousy, but will they admit it? Absolutely not. Instead, they suddenly lose interest in whatever’s happening. They’re like, “Oh, you’re talking to that person? Wow. That’s so great for you. Anyway, I’ll just be over here…..” They might even act a little distant, maybe even hit you with the classic “It’s nothing, I’m fine” while literally radiating “I am NOT fine” energy. this person is not about to lose their cool in front of you Instead, they suddenly start acting very serious, very focused on something else. They’ll be like, “Oh, I have an email to answer,” or “I need to check something on my phone”. I get the naive energy from your future spouse, like very youthful and maybe little immature because they want you to ONLY themselves. AND THEN. THE JUDGEMENT CARD. THIS IS THE CLIMAX. This is when they snap back into reality and realize, Oh wait. I’m literally in a relationship with them. They love me. What am I doing? This is where they have that internal wake-up call. They’ll come back to you, realigned, refocused, remembering that you’re their soulmate (2 of Cups energy, baby!!). And THEN, instead of being petty, they’ll drop some casual reassurance-seeking comment like, “So… you seemed to be having fun with them, huh?”—AKA making sure or you to say they had nothing to worry about.

But overall, ill definitely say that They aren’t the type to lash out in jealousy, but you WILL notice the change. The silence, the avoidance, the fake distraction tactics. It’s subtle but LOUD. But at the end of the day? The Judgment card seals the deal—they always come back to their senses, realizing that duh, you’re theirs and they’re yours. And the second you reassure them? BOOM. They’re back to their normal, confident self. These people would give their everything just to be in your company. Very sulky baby energy ngl. They’re not explosive, but they are silently suffering. And bestie, if you ever call them out on it? OH BOY. Expect a very defensive “What? I wasn’t jealous. That’s ridiculous.” … Sure, babe. Sure.

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── .✦ PILE II

Alright, so the first thing I’m catching here is contrast—we’ve got the King of Cups and Temperance trying so hard to play it cool, acting all mature, controlled, and balanced. Then we have The Devil, and that too right in the middle of the spread. The sentence i would immedtly say here is, your future spouse is going to be OBSESSED WITH YOU. It’s the internal battle of “I’m unbothered” vs. “I will die if I see you entertaining someone else.” they try to move past jealousy logically—like, “It’s fine, I trust them”—but The Devil says, “But what if they find someone better?” . And then BAM, Two of Cups swoops in and reminds them that you two are soulmates, and there’s no competition—but oh boy, they still feel it. THIS person gets so confused when it comes to you i can clearly see that by the mixed enrgies from the spread, they are hit with SOO MANY emotions all at once but one theme is prominent, they are SUPERRRRR obsessed with you. 

This is giving “jealous but won’t let it show” energy which is just like pile 1 but the energy here is more obsessed type, cause pile 1 was more on the cuter and naive side. Your FS is the type to mask their jealousy under cool composure. They are emotionally intelligent, self-restraint,. If someone flirts with you in front of them, they will not cause a scene will make things very obvious. Whenever they would see someone getting wayyy to close to you they are hit with the thought “ i need to rescue my person,” They will not act out immediately—but best believe they’ll remember it. And later? they’ll try to rationalize their emotions, convince themselves to let it go—but the Two of Cups suggests that deep down, they’ll need reassurance from you. Not that they don’t trust you, but rather, their feelings run deep and they just want to be reminded that you’re theirs.

The Devil is the obsessive thoughts creeping in at night, when they’re alone, replaying a moment over and over like, “Were they actually flirting? Was my FS enjoying it??” This isn’t toxic jealousy—it’s more of that “I don’t want to lose what’s mine” energy. I would say their super obsessive side is balanced by the presence of two of cups here so reagrless of anything, the’ll be the biggest shield of your relationship. You two have such a strong connection that even when jealousy creeps in, they ultimately trust your bond enough to not tuen into insecurity. But ohhh, they’ll find a way to remind you that you’re theirs—subtle, territorial gestures, low-key possessiveness in the most elegant way possible. These people are VERY CONDFIDENT. Expect things like a hand on your waist, pulling you closer mid-conversation, a little smirk when someone’s trying (and failing) to flirt with you. Casual dominance, bestie. (we all love that) 

The energy of this pile was super sexy ngl. good for my booktok girlies. 

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── .✦ PILE III

As soon as i looked at the spread the immediate thought hit me was, your future spouse is going to treat you like ROYALTY. So, picture this: Your future spouse? They’re so put together, they’ve got their life in check, they exude this natural confidence (like, they’re used to being the main character, okay?), and they don’t just casually do jealousy.no. this is a very secure energy. If they feel it, they feel it deep in their bones. It’s not dramatic, but it’s intensely present—not loud, but undeniable. The thing is, it’s not even about insecurity; it's about you being so precious to them that even the thought of someone else getting too close? Yeah, no, they’re not having it.

See, the Empress and the King of Wands together? That’s fire and devotion. You are the ultimate prize, the softest yet most powerful presence in their life, and they know it. And because they know it, they also know your worth, which means they see the way others see you too. Oh, and trust me—others see you. The way you glow? The way you hold yourself? The way you make even the most casual of interactions feel special? Yeah, your future spouse notices when someone starts acting just a little too friendly. And they don’t like it. The moment you get into a relationship with them, youre going to have the biggest glow up. 

This is where things get fun. So when they are jealous, They might not immediately lash out, but there’s definitely a shift—their words get a little sharper, they start inserting themselves into conversations they weren’t in before, and if they’re the more composed type, you’ll notice they suddenly have a lot to say about whoever is making them feel some type of way. But they’re so smooth with it. They’re not obvious. It’s like they play it off as if they’re just making an observation or a lighthearted joke, but there’s an edge to it. A warning. And if the other person doesn’t get the memo? Oh, honey. They will. Your person isn’t impulsive with their jealousy; they’re strategic about it. They’re the type to let people dig their own graves before stepping in. They’ll watch, wait, assess—is this just harmless interaction, or is someone really pushing it? And when they do step in? It’s game over. They’re asserting their presence, effortlessly, dominantly. It’s all in the control. They’ll make the other person feel like they’ve already lost before they even realized they were in a competition.

But bestie, the real magic? It’s in the aftermath. Because once you’re alone? OHHH. This is when their softness creeps in. The Page of Cups peeks through in the smallest ways—they won’t outright admit they were jealous (I mean, duh, pride), but suddenly they’re extra affectionate, extra attentive. And the cutest part? Deep down, they know they have nothing to worry about. You’re theirs, and they’re yours, and that’s not changing. This is such a power duo because we have the empress as well as king of cups in the spread. But bestie, the way they still can’t help but get a little possessive? ADORABLE. They’re not the type to get insecure, but they are the type to make sure that everyone—including you—knows exactly where they stand. They’re the King of Wands, after all. They own their throne, and they protect what’s theirs.

They don’t control—you’re free to do whatever you want—but ohhh, they will make sure you NEVER forget who you belong to. 😌🔥

And honestly That’s hot.

Now tell me, I need to know what divine force blessed you with this person. 💀💀

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Thank you so much for reading all the way through! I hope my reading resonated with you and that you had a lovely time going through it. If you enjoyed it, please like and reblog—it really means a lot! Let me know which pile you chose; I absolutely love hearing your thoughts and feedback on my readings! If my reading resonated you, you may consider buying my paid reading as it would really help me out financially♡

Note: tarot cards provide guidance and possible insights into what could happen based on current energies, thoughts, and actions. the cards can highlight potential paths or outcomes, but they do not fixedly predict the future. this is a general reading so take what resonates!

[buckyschair]

✸BETRAYAL✸

Azriel blurb 

Summary: A domestic dispute with Azriel. 

Warnings: none, fluff 

I kinda pictured this pair as Azriel and Flirting!Reader from my last little fic series if that tickles your fancy hehe :) Comments are encouraged, I love to hear from you <3

Word count: 800+ (so short!! who am i!)

masterlist

✸✸✸ 

“I can't believe you.”

Your words were a savage snarl. Azriel sighed. He'd had a long day, and he didn’t want to fight. 

“Well if you’d just let me explain–”

“–What is there to explain?” you snapped. 

You couldn’t believe it. A male who was committed to you, loyal above all else. That he would do this to you? You were dizzy from the insanity. 

You were curled defensively into the corner of your couch, knees packed tight to your aching chest. It was by the grace of the Mother you’d been sitting down when you found out. 

“How could you do this to me?” The words were bitter, and your broken voice betrayed your wound. 

“I’m sorry.”

Pathetic words, from a pathetic male. Where was his shame?  

His face was wrought with concern. He stood before you, keeping a safe distance. His wings ruffled, and they dragged along the floor. It was a sorry sight, the love of your life ruined, stained by his transgression. 

He didn’t even feel bad, you sensed, he just didn’t like that you were mad. The fact cuts deeper than the betrayal. Resentment soured your mouth. 

“Well, sorry isn’t going to change anything, Az,” you breathed. 

“I’ll make it up to you,” he promised.

You huffed a humorless laugh, the sound catching in your throat. 

The hardest part was that you’d built a beautiful life together. It hadn’t been easy, either. The shadowsinger was slow to trust, and you’d been hurt before too. But you’d both overcome your fears, and had traded invulnerability up for connection. Your sorrows had been comforted by cooling shadows. Your days were lit with bliss, sipped away in coffee houses or the comfort of your shared home. You’d embraced the bond, sure of its sparklingly rare reward. Until this moment. 

He shook his head, continuing, “No, really, I will. The two of us can-

“-it won’t be the same,” you murmured, your tone forlorn. 

Azriel seemed at a loss. A fearsome warrior, a master of spies, brought low by one pissy mate. 

“I'm sorry," he repeated, more seriously this time. “Will you forgive me?”

“You’ve got a lot of nerve. After what you’ve done–”

“Oh come off it!”

The male plopped himself down next to you on the couch, and his wing draped around you. His expression was pleading. 

“Let’s not fight,” he tried in a fragile voice

“I just,” you huffed. “I can’t believe you would go and do that– and with Cassian, no less–”

“He really wanted to!” Azriel defended himself 

You scowled, unimpressed. 

“It’s just that you knew I was excited about this new restaurant and you knew I wanted to go with you,” you stressed. “How could you do this to me?”

Soft traces on your knee calmed you. He listened to your words intently before speaking. “Listen, though, there’s some good news. I learned they have a special brunch menu on the weekends. How about we go tomorrow?”

You brightened slightly. 

“A special menu?”

“Yes,” he coaxed, lips twitching. “One I haven't even seen. Plus, Cass and I went there for lunch–”

“–famously the most boring meal,” you supplied, nodding along. 

“Exactly,” he replied, equally solemn, “so it’s basically like I didn't even go.”

You saw his logic. Plus you knew how obnoxious Cassian could be when he didn’t get his way. You regarded your mate pouting next to you, his hand still drawing soothing circles on your knee. 

“I guess it would be fine if you took me to brunch tomorrow,” you offered eventually. 

He sighed in relief. 

“–But you have to let me try a bite of whatever you order!”

“Deal.” 

Contented, you leaned forward to nestle into the towering Illyrian. His arms wrapped around you instinctively, fondness softening his sharp features. 

You kissed his chest and he melted. 

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

“I forgive you, baby,” you murmur absently into his chest. He smelled good, his citrus soap mixed enticingly with his musk. “I know Cassian can be an ass.”

“Cauldron, he is such an ass!”

You nodded into his chest, your head gently bumping his chin. You stroked his shoulder, down to his heart. 

“You’re so brave for putting up with him.”

The fearsome warrior was putty in your hands as you babied him after his long day out in the field. 

“I’m gonna kill him tomorrow,” Azriel sighed.  

You hummed quietly. His sculpted arms wrapped around your midsection, your playful attitude bringing out his syrupy side. 

“No one gets between me and my baby,” he said gravely, his boyish grin betraying him.

“You can’t blame him for your poor choices and my bad attitude!” you smirked.

His brows furrowed and he quirked his lips in contention. “Yes I can. He’s a bad influence.”

You laughed at his severity while he grinned. He kissed away your giggles, groaning imperceptibly at the affection he felt for you, only inflamed by your antics. 

The sound of your laughter was a balm to his tired soul. Of course, he’d been trying to make you laugh, just to make sure you were really well and recovered from your mood. 

Mission accomplished.

✸✸✸ 

A/N: hehe I had this idea at 5am one day and wrote the first draft in a furious early morning haze! Enjoy a silly domestic dispute fake out with our most longsuffering bat boy <3

Let me know if you like the shorter blurb-y one shot style??

[moonstruckme]

Hello icon ✨Could we have a poly!wolfstar x reader where she thinks that they are mad at her for something (or they could actually be a bit miffed) and it just a bit of hurt comfort with cuddles and kisses at the end😔🙏🏻

Thank you for requesting <3

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

You’re being weird. 

The three of you are doing a puzzle, which usually captivates your attention but never Sirius’, which is how he’s so very aware of how little attention you’re actually paying to the puzzle. You keep glancing at Sirius, at Remus, like you’re nervous about something. You’ve been like this all day. It’s in and out, sometimes waning like you’ve forgotten to be anything but normal, but Sirius has a keen gauge for tension. He can sense it every time it ticks back up.

You’re pretending to look for sky pieces, though Sirius suspects you forgot what color the sky in your puzzle was a while ago. He feels like you’re building to something, and it makes his skin itch. Remus is too absorbed in his tree bark pieces to notice—the nerd—so it’s up to Sirius to get it out of you. Luckily, James has always said that Sirius is a master of tact. 

“What’s wrong with you?” 

You were halfway to sneaking another glance at him, and you react as though you’ve been struck, jumping a little where you sit on the rug by the coffee table. “What? Nothing.” 

“Well, that was very believable.” Sirius smiles to take some of the bite out of it. “Come on, you have me on the edge of my seat. What’s got you all worked up?” 

“I am not worked up,” you insist, though your expression says otherwise. 

Remus appears confused, but he notices your guilty eyes as well. “What’s happening?” he asks.

“Nothing,” you say again. 

“Clearly something,” Sirius counters. 

Your lips press together, corners downturnt. You’re not looking at either of them.

“Hey.” Sirius softens his voice. “What is it? You’re freaking me out, babe.”  

This only seems to distress you further. “I wanted you not to freak out,” you say.

“Sweetheart, about what?” Now Remus sounds worried too, though the look he gives you is more patient than anything Sirius could ever manage. He ducks his head to catch your gaze. 

After a moment of looking at him, your shoulders droop. “Okay.” Your voice has quieted. “Just a second.” 

Sirius’ anxiety ratchets as you stand, going down the hall towards your room. 

“Why does it feel like she’s going to bring us back a school report?” he murmurs to Remus. 

Remus shakes his head, gnawing on the inside of his cheek. “No idea.” 

When you return, it is with papers, though Sirius doesn’t at first know what they are. 

“This came this morning,” you say in that same resigned voice, laying them down on the coffee table as you sit back down next to Sirius.

With Sirius and Remus on opposite sides they can’t both read the text at once, and Remus picks them up first. Sirius spots you bringing your hand to your mouth and reaches for it silently, drawing it away before you can start chewing your fingernails. Your nervousness is making him nervous. He pushes his thumb up the lines of your palm. 

“Oh,” Remus hums. 

“Remus,” Sirius says, in a tone that clearly communicates if somebody doesn’t start talking I’m going to throw a wobbly. 

“It’s the gas bill,” says Remus. He’s making his old man face, where he leans away slightly and squints like he needs glasses. Ordinarily Sirius would tease him for it, but he’s not in the mood. “Bit high.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say in a small voice. 

Sirius looks at you. Frowning, your hand still trapped in his. “Why are you sorry?” 

“Is this…” One glance at Remus, and it’s clear Sirius is now the one lagging in understanding. “Is this because you left the oven on?” 

Your expression says enough. 

Oh, well. In fairness, Sirius had thrown a bit of a wobbly over that. 

It was weeks ago. You made cookies just before bed. They were warm, gooey, the perfect precursor to sleep and an excellent excuse, in Sirius’ opinion, to trade chocolate-flavored kisses until all three of you were snoozing on your pillows. It hadn’t been until he and Remus were making breakfast the next morning that Remus smelled the gas. You’d come out of the bedroom, confused, to find them throwing open windows and calling the fire department for advice. Your gas oven had been left on all night. 

You felt awful. Your boyfriends gave you an appropriate amount of shit for it, but it was only thoughtless, not malicious. Your apartment hadn’t blown up. The smell drifted away within a few minutes, and in all honesty Sirius was left feeling a bit bad that what began as you trying to make them all happy had resulted in you being so thoroughly chastised. But it had been let go. 

Until now, evidently. 

“I can pay it,” you offer meekly. “The difference, or all of it.” 

Remus sighs, rubbing his brow. “Dove…” 

“Let me see that.” Sirius reaches with the hand not holding yours. Remus gives it to him. He finds the total quickly. “This isn’t even that high.” 

Okay, it’s a bit high. But genuinely, Sirius was expecting worse. 

“It’s my fault,” you mumble. 

“Baby, is this what you’re all wound up about?” Sirius sets the papers down to gawk at you. “Really? I thought something happened.” 

You’re shrinking, your hand tense in his. “Something did happen.” 

“Yeah, a whole month ago!” 

“Sirius,” Remus murmurs, in a tone Sirius knows to mean you’re not helping. He asks you, “Did you think we would be angry with you?” 

Spiderweb cracks spread through your expression. Your mouth wobbles. 

“Oh, you absolute moron.” Sirius grabs for you with both hands, hauling you into his lap. 

“Pads.”

“You ridiculous, sweet idiot.” He kisses your head. Once, twice, three times. “Why’d you have to go and get all worked up? You got me worked up, silly thing.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say weakly. 

“Alright, that’s enough apologizing,” Remus says gently. Underneath the coffee table, a socked foot bumps into Sirius’ leg before presumably finding yours. Sirius grins. Remus is tactile in the oddest ways sometimes. Like a cat. 

He loves you both so very much. God, you really had him going. He feels liable to squeeze the life out of you. 

He satiates the urge by kissing you all over your face until you look significantly less upset. You look at Sirius with tentative relief, the beginnings of a smile curled up in the corner of your mouth. 

He’s about to ask you again how you could be so stupid, but Remus speaks first. Probably for the best. 

“It really won’t be so much more for each of us once we split it,” he says, looking again at the bill. 

That guilty look is back on your face. Sirius gives you a squeeze in hopes of banishing it. “I can get it,” you say. “It wouldn’t be there if I hadn’t been so…if I hadn’t left the oven on.” 

“You don’t need to punish yourself,” Remus tells you. “It’s all right.” 

You fidget. “I feel like you should probably be angrier with me.” 

“We already have been angry with you,” Sirius points out. “We got over it. Time to move on, babe.” 

“It was a mistake.” Remus’ gaze is steady. Knowing. “It was scary, but it happens. You shouldn’t be angry at yourself for us, lovely.” 

You look to be gnawing the inside of your lip. “Are you sure?” you ask. 

Sirius scoffs. “I can be angry without anyone’s help, thank you.” Then, at your wary look, “But I’m not angry about this.” 

Slowly, the tension Sirius has been sensing seeps out of you. You relax in a way you haven’t all day long. 

Remus notices, too. “Sweetheart,” he sighs, in a soft, fond voice. “Talk to us next time, okay?” 

“I know, sorry.” You give him a sheepish look. “I was going to. I just really thought you’d be upset.” 

“Yeah, well.” Sirius kisses your head, sharing an eye roll with Remus. “Shows what you know.”

[theminecraftbee]

Joel squints as he comes down the mountain. Doc is yelling something about drop shipping. Joe Hills flies by, yelling about how Cub had clearly chosen a font to get into his head as some kind of reverse psychology. He makes the mistake of looking down at his phone to check chat, and what seems to be the world's worst insult war between Ren and Skizz is happening. Somewhere, somehow, he is certain there is a fish, and for some reason, this is very concerning.

He looks over Hermitcraft, and he goes—

"Is war always this stupid?"

Mumbo looks up from his own build. "Oh, um, yes. Absolutely. Generally."

Joel squints a little longer before shrugging.

"I feel vindicated staying right over here, then."

Mumbo nods. "Oh, that's what I'm saying, but, er, I would be surprised if Grian—you know Grian—he probably wants me to do something like... spy? Or build a vault? Or double-cross the vault? Something with permits? I think they're the bad guys, but I like being the bad guy sometimes. I am being a very bad guy this season, by which I mean good, and achieving immortality. Do you think I can make a computer blink?"

Joel sighs. "I forgot you were also stupid."

"Rude," Mumbo says. "For that, maybe I will report you to the PoePoe."

"Oh noooooo," Joel says dryly. "Maybe they'll get me with the fish."

There's a long pause.

"Actually, the fish is kind of frightening? Why am I scared of the fish."

Mumbo pats Joel on the shoulder and goes back to building. Joel tries one last time to make sense of things while False puts up another propaganda poster. No one has asked her to; she is just doing this.

He decides this is all nonsense. He'll get involved later, when his brain is ready to handle the world being nonsense. Maybe he'll get to kill some horses. That seems like it'll infuriate the judge, right, and they're supposed to be fighting for or against the man, he thinks, if they're meant to be fighting for anything at all, which is unclear.

"The life series follows better logic than this," he says, even though he's not really supposed to remember that probably, and goes back to detailing.

[natalchartnurtures]

Pick-A-Cat GIF: Why Do People Stare At You?

Let's expose the people who stare at you *evil laughs * hehe

Paid readings now available for everybody!

Intention set for the reading: "I want this to be a feel good pick a card to uplift anybody that comes across it. I want their lower three chakras to get a healing boost after reading this pick a card. I want the messages in here to be clear honest and oh so fun to read.

Thank you so much spirit team for helping me do this and help my collective. I lysm <3

Let's begin!"

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Pile 1:

Ok. You a domestic queen/king/non-binary royal. Even if you don't identify as one.

Why you ask? Because sweetie, there's something DEEPly satisfying about watching you go about your mundane day. Doing your lil mundane chores and things. You give off a cozy Bilbo Baggins typa vibe it's almost as if you seem so content being in your lil bubble and living your life that it begs for the attention of people who struggle with inner peace. This is why a lot of people who stare at you, stare at you. They wanna know your secret formula to what they're calling inner peace, cuz you look like somebody who's sooooo CONTENT with their own life and their own shi- and their own company. Keep in mind that this doesn't necessarily mean your life is inherently good all the time like you could have everything going wrong in your life and still handle it like a damn Pro and come out on the other side feeling better than before. You alchemize. Consciously or not, you do. And you do it naturally. Let me tell you something, this alchemical-bouncing-back-from-anything mentality IS your source of infinite inner peace. People who stare at you actually pick up on this nature of yours on a very subconscious level without even realizing and boy.. do they desperately wanna know your "secret" which is basically your alchemy. Lmao. So good luck to anybody who tries to understand you, they're gonna have a tough time tryna understand alchemy as a muggle

A lil rant: NO shade to anybody who's not on the spiritual journey but hey I gotta call it out EXACTLY how it is. Your wisdom was hard 👏🏾 earned 👏🏾 so it's gonna take MORE than just overnight to understand you and your alchemical nature. Like am I wrong?

End Of Rant

I think you get it by now. Your vibe is why people stare at you. It's like you ✨️bewitch✨️ people with your ability to "never get stressed" (at least on face value) no matter what life seems to throw at you. This tells me that most people who stare at you are people who see you in public spaces fairly regularly (like a class or a park near where you live etc) and they don't know you very well?

You have a lotta strangers taking respite in your beauty. Staring at you could be like an escape almost.. like taking a sip from that well of infinite inner peace .. gosh you have a very beautiful aura pile 1, hehe and I love and adore that.

It seems to me like you're angelic.. a white aura or light blue one almost.. you exude very high vibrational energy which makes sense cuz a lot of high vibe people get stares for simply existing! Cuz they move differently through life.

Pile 1, you take the proverbial road less taken- the path of spiritual alchemy and face your darkness and this allows you to MOVE DIFFERENTLY and respond different to life than most people. This. THIS is why people stare at you. My sweet, <insert your name> 😊

Any physical/personality traits that people admire:

👉🏾 You may look very cute in your overall appearance which makes you VERY endearing to look at haha. You're cute like a hobbit is. Maybe your shorter than average? Love my fellow Short Queens Tehe ✨️

👉🏾 Even tho you seem very cute, you have eyes of a SAGE of like fucking YODA or something cuz goddamn they deep af. People are MESMERIZED by this duality they sense in you. Love to see it.

👉🏾 You have an air of authenticity to you. You care if you really care, don't if you really don't. No BS typa first impressions when people look at you.

👉🏾 You might strong looking g features that's very beautiful. Like strong looking legs, or strong looking hands, or strong facial features too? Your beauty is kinda Tate McRae's if I'm being honest.. that's what I'm picking up on.. it feels so lovely to sit in ><

And with that were done with your reading for today!

Thank you so very much for reading!

I love you soooo much 🫶🏾🫂

Have yourself a nice rest of your day, now and see yaaaaa <3

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Pile 2:

Whoa when I was starting your reading I accidently asked spirit "What makes my pile number 2s attractive?" instead of "What makes people stare at my pile 2s?"

So you have your answer right there.

People stare cuz you is attractive ok? 💅🏾 I'm getting a strong vibe that you already know this but kinda don't care? Cuz like there's more to you than meets the eye (kinda like in the case of Marilyn Monroe) and you seem to know this too so you're like "yea ik I'm cute, whatever" haha I love itttt sooo much. You a lil miss diva ✨️

Have you ever heard of Brown Magic by Twinjabi? It's BLASTING in my ears as I'm channeling for you right NOW lol this is, again, pointing to me how people find you really attractive.

~Oh and keep in mind, you don't have to be a brown girl to relate to the song :p ~

It's ridiculous how many pages you got all at once. This is telling me that you have this child-like vibe to you. You seem carefree and ~oh so~ positive in the way you look at things, at life. Your energy seems very light just like a child. You embody your inner child really well and this CATCHES people's attention like it's nobody's bussiness. You could really do a lot of work around healing your inner child and your connection to her/him which is helping you sustain your natural curiosity, wonder for life and that pure essence.. Alot of people who stare at you do so cuz they've most probably lost touch with their own inner children. They look to you as a source of light that they struggle to connect with themselves.

And you know what that means-

You trigger people ALOT.

You get stares from some people who are jealous of you and want what you have (your connection to your inner child and GodSource) but WITHOUT putting in the work necessary like excuse me?! Back off. My dear sweet <insert your name> doesn't need your stank ass energy rn.

This. This right here is why you also have a very strong field of divine protection around you. And because you're so protected, you have this untouchable reputation which is ironically why people like to stare at you. They feel like staring at you is the only way they can be close to you. Gosh.

You are naturally a very open and welcoming person but spirit makes sure your safe WHILE being so open and trusting of life and people which is why very few (best of the pack) people are allowed into your "circle" so to speak. Love that for you 😌✨️

You seem to have a very strong root chakra, pile 2. People stare at you cuz you give off "rich girl/guy vibe" (don't matter if you are actually financially comfortable or not) it's just. your. VIBE. It's very abundant because of that open and functioning root chakra! So whatever work you've been doing just know that's it's PAYING OFF really nicely heheheheh (good job pile 2! Root chakra work ain't easy)

Any physical/personality traits that people admire:

👉🏾 Your. HAIR.

👉🏾 If you wear red you may feel like people can't take thier eyes off you BECAUSE THEY ACTUALLY CAN NOT. You rock red like nobody's bussiness tehe ❤️

👉🏾 Not just red, any kind of dark feminine aesthetic like black cat makeup, edgy/alternate aesthetics or darker clothes etc brings out your beauty and people who stare at you can't get enough of that lmao

👉🏾 You have a earthy vibe which makes you feel very pleasing to look at (in a luxurious way)

👉🏾 People might find it hard to recognize your ethnicity or your accent cuz you give ethnically ambiguous in the best, most attractive of ways ✨️

And with that were done with your reading for today!

Thank you so very much for reading!

I love you soooo much 🫶🏾🫂

Have yourself a nice rest of your day, now and see yaaaaa <3

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Pile 3:

You have the 9 of pentaches and the empress out as your first two cards. Need I say more?

You are STUNNING to look at. You wear amazing clothes. You're in your divine feminine energy, hell, you COMMAND energy like an EMPRESS does.

The power you hold is exactly why people stare at you.

They can't help but stare at you. Bro, your energy BECKONS for attention even if you don't want it.

I'm getting a feeling that you like to stay low key and just chill like because I'm getting a very Miss Independent vibe from you which is well deserved because you know how to get ish DONE 💅🏾 you're responsible like that. But it's this I'm-in-my-bubble-don't-BOTHER-me typa energy is why people I heard- are obsessed with you. People stare out of obsession.

They wanna observe every move you make cuz it's just that mesmerizing. Some people who stare at you may have have crushes on you or secretly admire you (platonic/romantic)

There's a deep respect that the people who stare at you, have for you. It's like they look to you for some kinda inspiration, depending on who is staring.

I'm also getting that you may move like deer, graceful. You may love to vibe out to your own energy.

You also know who to let in and who to keep away. You can SMELL bullshit from a mile away and keep that the fuck out.

This is some bad bitch energy, pile 3! I'm so pumped rn sitting in your energy!

Wow ok I'm getting a very specific message now. People stare at you so they can learn more about you? They wanna know what makes you tick (maybe there's somebody in your surrounding who wants to shoot theur shot with you?) Lol that's kinda cute.

But yea you have this free sprinted, wild feminine energy. You'll do what you want, when you want. You're the definition of never let them know your next move and BOY do I love that for you <3

You are a very interesting person. Cuz you're you. You're not afraid of expressing exactly how you feel and this makes you are really enjoyable to be around and so people stare at you cuz they enjoy how you come across- unabashed in your self expression and unapologetic in your authenticity!

Ahhhhhhh this some Queen Shi-

I'm so honoured to be reading for you rn!

You must also have your boundary game strong cuz I'm getting that you can easily cut people off if they don't come correct and people enjoy how authentic you are.

You're giving me MAD Tyla energy rn man. You could maybe even look her? Idk but whatever you look like trust me. People love to stare.

Hehe 🤭

People enjoy watching you take action. Lemme explain. If you're in school people love to stare at you while you're working on a project or something or just in class, taking notes n stuff. You have a way about you that's so addicting, man, people who's stare at you don't wanna stop 👀💀 like hello stop burning holes on my body from the intense staring? Excuse me like huh?

If you're at work, some of your colleges could stare at you out of admiration or simply cuz they have a crush on you (or your work ethic?) Or how you dress 🙃

Whatever it is you tend to pour your authenticity into everything you do. Small, big. Doesn't mattter. You do life in YOUR own (divine) way and that's awesome!

You the shit pile 3, I hope you know that.

Any physical/personality traits that people admire:

👉🏾 Your clothes!

👉🏾 You! Yes you read that right, you in your entirety, in your full essence is what people admire. It's your physical beauty. It's your intelligence. It's your taste in music and movies. Your hobbies. Your authenticity. Everything about you, girlie, is fantastic.

👉🏾 Your independence

👉🏾 Your courage to choose joy over fear

👉🏾 Your wisdom

👉🏾 Your ability to enjoy being alone

👉🏾 Your sense of dedication and devotion (to whatever you choose to give it to)

And with that were done with your reading for today!

Thank you so very much for reading!

I love you soooo much 🫶🏾🫂

Have yourself a nice rest of your day, now and see yaaaaa <3

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[daryltwdixon]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Summary: Tensions rise as the three of you try to find clarity in the aftermath of lines crossed and feelings laid bare. In the weeks that follow, you begin to wonder if something this messy could still become something that lasts.

|| smut MDNI 18+, some mentions of pregnancy, angst and feelings, some fluff, dirty talk, pinv, blowjobs, love triangle (?), no outbreak, jealousy, possessiveness, power play, joel talks you thru it of course, fair warning this isn’t exactly healthy, bad communication, don’t do this ok || notes: eeeehhehe okay I love this one. its a long boy! I listened to you and didn’t delete any of it lmao I love this dynamic so much and it makes me so happy to know everyone is as filthy as I am // pic of Joel & Tommy is mine //

“So, when you saw them, what went through your head, Tommy?” Dr. Servopoulos asked. The office was neat, almost unnervingly so. The walls were bare except for a few framed photos—serene lakes, white sailboats drifting across still water. A false sense of calm in a space built for unraveling things that weren’t calm at all. The air smelled faintly of old books and lavender, a weak attempt to soften the weight of conversations like this.

It had taken a lot to convince either of the men beside you to come today.

Bringing anyone into this mess was hard enough, but laying it bare for someone outside the three of you, having someone watch, analyze, pick apart what happened behind closed doors felt like something private was being dissected under a microscope.

Joel hated this. You knew he hated this. He was a man who carried his feelings in silence, whose apologies lived in things left unsaid. He didn't do this—didn’t sit in stiff chairs like this, in stuffy offices like this, didn't put words to things that made his throat tight. Yet, he still agreed to be here.

And Tommy—you knew this was hard for him too. Not just because of what had happened, but because sitting here, having someone else pick at the wounds, meant acknowledging that things weren’t okay. That they couldn’t just fix it themselves. That you had invited someone in to see the cracks that had formed over the past few months.

It made the walls feel closer, the chairs feel stiffer, the quiet feel too loud.

You watched Tommy as he sighed beside you, his fingers rubbing at his brow. His eyes flickered to the doctor before dropping to the floor. “I don’t even remember,” he muttered. “S’like I’ve blocked it all out.” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “I do remember the right hook I gave ‘im when Joel was tryna say somethin’ to me.” His voice darkened. “Ya know. When they were finally dressed.”

The last word dripped with bitterness.

You flinched. Your fingers curled together in your lap, knuckles pressing tight.

Joel shifted beside you, the slight movement drawing your attention. He sat stiff in his chair, his thumb rubbing absently at the bruised, purple swell on his cheek—the evidence of Tommy’s fury. He hadn’t said a single word since the session started.

You cleared your throat, forcing yourself to meet the doctor’s gaze. “Dr. Servopoulos—”

“Tess,” she offered smoothly.

“Tess,” you amended. “We never meant… this was never supposed to get this far. I just want him to know I never—” You turned to look Tommy in the eyes. “I never intended for this to happen.”

Tommy let out a rough scoff, shaking his head. His arms crossed over his chest. “Yeah, well, neither did I.”

A quiet beat.

Tess glanced at Joel then, waiting.

Joel felt the weight of her stare and finally looked up. His dark eyes met hers, unreadable.

Tess raised a brow. “Anything to add?”

His jaw ticked. “What d’you want me to say?”

“You tell me, Mr. Miller.” Tess mused, tapping her pen against her notepad. “What about how you ended up sleeping with your brother’s wife?”

Joel exhaled slowly through his nose. His knuckles flexed. “Didn’t start out that way.”

Tess hummed. “Right.” She flipped to a page of her notes. “So let’s lay this out. You—” she nodded at you, “wanted a baby. You—” she pointed at Tommy, “were willing to ask your own brother to be a sperm donor, which then turned into you—” she turned to Joel, “what, just doing your brother a favor? By sleeping with his wife?”

Joel’s fingers drummed against his knee. “I did say no at first. But yeah, somethin’ like that.”

Tommy mumbled under his breath, “Yeah. A real big favor.”

You swallowed.

Tess scribbled something down. “Okay,” she said, flipping her pen between her fingers. “So when you three agreed to try for a baby in this… hands-on way, you never foresaw the possibility of… complications?”

You shook your head, stomach twisting.

“Not once?”

“I didn’t think about it,” you admitted, voice small. “I thought we were just—we were focused on the baby.”

Tommy snorted, rubbing a hand down his face. “Yeah? Well, neither of you seemed focused on it when you were sneakin’ around.”

You flinched again.

Joel finally looked up at him, his expression dark. “We weren’t sneakin’.”

“Sure as hell felt like it,” Tommy shot back.

Tess sighed, leaning forward, her gaze flicking between the three of you. “Alright, let’s just call it what it is: things got complicated. Lines that were there for a reason got crossed. And the problem wasn’t you trying for a baby—it was everything that happened outside of that agreement.”

She gestured between you and Joel. “You broke the boundaries you set. Maybe you ignored it, maybe you thought you could handle it, but now you’re here. And not because the plan failed, but because you broke your own rules. You had sex outside of what you all agreed to.”

A brief pause. Her eyes scanned each of you, as if silently asking any of you to deny it, before she tilted her head.

“So let’s cut to it. Why are you here? What do each of you actually want?”

Tommy exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “I don’t know, okay?” His voice cracked slightly. “I just—I ain’t ready to throw away my marriage, but I also ain’t stupid enough to pretend like nothin’ happened.”

Tess nodded, absorbing his words before turning to you. “And you?”

Your throat felt tight. “I—” Your hands fisted in your lap. “I don’t want to lose either of them.”

Tommy’s head snapped toward you.

Joel’s fingers twitched.

You swallowed, your voice steadier now. “My marriage with Tommy is important to me. He is important to me.” You turned toward your husband, eyes pleading. “But things are complicated. Because Joel is important too.” You hesitated, shifting your gaze to Joel’s hands, his knuckles tight and white where they pressed together. “I don’t want to just cut him out of this just because of one mistake.”

Tommy’s jaw ticked, but he didn’t interrupt. His fingers drummed against his knee, his gaze flickering between you and Joel like he was waiting for something.

Tess sat forward slightly, pen poised. “And Joel?”

Joel dragged a hand down his face, exhaling through his nose. “I don’t wanna make things worse than they already are,” he muttered, voice low, unreadable.

Tess hummed, unimpressed. “That’s not really an answer.”

His fingers tapped against his knee. “Ain’t got another one.”

You turned toward him, heart pounding. “Joel.”

His jaw flexed, his eyes staying downcast away from you.

You didn’t push right away, letting the silence stretch between you before trying again, voice softer this time. “What do you want?”

His throat worked, but he didn’t speak.

Tess glanced between you both. “It doesn’t have to be a speech, Joel. Just say what’s in your head.”

Joel breathed in a slow, heavy breath, rubbing the heel of his hand over his mouth. His fingers dragged across the stubble on his jaw. When he finally looked up, his eyes locked onto his brother. “I know what we agreed to,” he said, voice steady but low. “I know this was supposed to be your kid, that I was just…” He trailed off for a second, shaking his head, like the word didn’t sit right with him. “That I was just helpin’.”

The room felt very still. 

Joel shifted, his knuckles flexing against his knee. “But shit changed, Tommy.” His voice roughened. “I can’t just—" He exhaled sharply, shoulders tensing. “I won’t just step back like this don’t mean nothin’ to me.”

The weight of it settled between all of you. Tommy’s knee bounced, his hands gripping his own upper arms where they were crossed. His mouth pressed into a hard line, but he didn’t speak, didn’t argue.

Joel swallowed, gaze flicking downward for a second before lifting again. “I ain’t askin’ for—” He hesitated, his jaw flexing like the words were hard to force out. “I don’t even know what I’m askin’ for.” His eyes flickered to Tommy’s. “But I do know I ain’t gonna be left out to dry.”

“No one said you would be,” you tried to soothe, your hand reaching to rest on his forearm, shaking your head. His skin was rough, warm, solid beneath your touch.

Your eyes traced the worn lines of his face, the quiet tension in his jaw as he looked at his brother. He was handsome in a way that felt etched into him, shaped by time and hardship, by everything he’d carried.

And you knew—better than anyone—how much Tommy meant to him. That neither of them trusted anyone as much as they trusted each other. That this needed to be amended before anything else could carry on between the two of you. You took your hand away from his arm.

Tess let out a slow breath. “Okay,” she murmured, nodding slightly. “Thank you, Joel. I think everyone needed to hear that.”

Joel’s fingers flexed again, and this time, his gaze flicked toward you, studying you for the first time since you arrived. There was something there—a charge, a quiet pull that hadn’t been there before. Or maybe it had, and you were only noticing it now, now that everything had changed.

You let the silence stretch as you kept your eyes on his, trying to read between everything he wasn’t saying. That he wanted to be part of this, that he wasn’t going to give this up easily.

Then Tommy sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “Alright,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Then we gotta figure out what the hell we’re actually doin’ here.”

Tess tapped her pen against her notepad. “Right. So let’s talk about our options.”

“Options?” Tommy echoed, his voice edged with skepticism.

Tess nodded, uncrossing her legs only to recross them the other way. She leaned forward slightly. “The way I see it, there are ways to make this work—even if none of them are simple.” She flipped to a fresh page in her notebook. “But make no mistake: it’s going to take work.”

Her pen tapped lightly against the paper as she continued. “Let’s start with the obvious: you can walk away from this entirely, go your separate ways—but none of you seem too eager to do that. Or, you and Tommy could stay together, work on the marriage, and Joel can remain in the background. Be some kind of father figure to this child and nothing more.”

She lifted a brow and looked directly at him. “But I’m not sure, with how far this has gotten, that that’s actually what you want.”

Joel didn’t answer right away. His jaw worked, tension shifting through his shoulders as his eyes dropped to the floor.

Then, quiet but certain, Joel said, “It’s not.”

Your chest tightened. The urge to reach for him surged again, stronger this time, but you didn’t move. You let him sit in the silence he’d chosen, even as it said more than anything else could.

Tess gave a small nod, like she’d expected that answer.

Joel didn’t elaborate. Didn’t look up. But the shift in the room was immediate. Whatever this had started as—it wasn’t just about the baby anymore.

Tess paused, giving the moment space before she spoke again.

“So the third option…How do we feel about the possibility of an open relationship?”

The silence that followed was thick, charged.

Tommy looked at you. You looked at him. Then at Joel. Joel stared at the floor, his jaw tight, expression unreadable.

Tess leaned her elbows on her knees, voice calm but direct. “I’ll be honest—I rarely see that work in situations like this. But it’s an option. If you’re willing to set clear, honest boundaries—and actually respect them.”

Tommy let out a breathy, humorless laugh, running a hand down his face again. “Boundaries. We’d need real ones this time. Ones that actually get followed.” His voice was edged, not cruel, but firm. “Not just shit we say and then ignore the second someone gets all… worked up.”

You tried not to let the flush creep onto your face as you kept your eyes on Tess as she went on.

“Now, let’s talk about Sarah.”

Joel immediately stiffened, his eyes shooting up to look at the doctor. Tommy did too.

“She doesn’t need to know about any of this,” Joel said, voice sharp.

“Not right now,” Tommy agreed. He turned to his brother, “But eventually, she’s gonna ask questions. And if we’re talkin’ about raising a baby together too, we can’t just not think about how this looks to her.”

Tess nodded, writing something down. “And if you don’t figure out what you actually are to each other, she’s gonna pick up on that long before you’re ready to have the conversation.” She flicked her gaze between all of you. “Kids are perceptive. The more unsure you are, the more confusing it’s gonna be for her.”

“When the time comes,” Joel said, measured, “I’ll tell her.” He glanced at Tommy, then at you. “Not before. Not unless she starts askin’.”

Tess watched him closely. “And if she does?”

Joel exhaled, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Then I’ll explain it to her. In a way that makes sense.” His eyes flickered between you and Tommy again. “She don’t need to know more than what’s right for her age.”

You let out a slow breath, nodding. “Alright.”

Tess closed her notebook. “Alright. It’s a start. But you’ve got work to do. This isn’t just about a baby anymore.” She looked directly at Tommy. “It’s about your marriage. About your relationships with each other.” Then her gaze flicked between you and Joel. “And whether or not you two can actually handle boundaries, or if this is just a slow crawl toward something blowing up in your faces.”

You swallowed. Joel’s hands clenched.

Tommy just sighed. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Guess we’ll find out.”

The walk into the parking lot was a quiet one, with the buzzing of unsettled energy between the three of you. Once outside the door, you all seemed to turn to each other, waiting for someone to speak.

“Thank you,” you said finally, your voice soft. “Both of you. For coming to this. I know it was…” You couldn’t finish the sentence.

“Weird,” Joel offered, with a dry edge.

“Necessary,” Tommy muttered, crossing his arms.

You nodded, arms folding across your chest. “So…” you trailed off, unsure what came next. None of you were.

Tommy gave a short sigh and looked off toward the lot. “I’ll go grab the truck.” He didn’t wait for a response—just turned and walked, shoulders tight, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets.

You and Joel stood in the stillness he left behind.

He glanced at you, then away, rocking slightly on his heels. “I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to say right now.”

You huffed a quiet breath. “Yeah. Me neither.”

He looked like he wanted to say more, like something was caught just behind his teeth—but he didn’t speak.

And you didn’t reach for him, even though you wanted to. Even though your hand twitched like it might. To squeeze his, to graze his wrist, to pull him close and maybe even kiss him goodbye. But it was still too weird. Too soon.

So instead, when Tommy pulled up and the tires crunched on the pavement, you stepped forward and let your fingers brush lightly over Joel’s shoulder. Just for a second. Just enough to say something without having to speak.

The window on Tommy’s side rolled down, elbow braced on the edge. He was watching his brother with a resigned look in his eyes.

Joel met his eyes. They exchanged a short, silent nod. Nothing more.

You climbed into the passenger seat, heart thrumming. Joel stayed standing where you left him, hands in his pockets, watching as the truck pulled away.

And even though nothing had been said… it felt like something had shifted. Just enough to make it through the rest of the day.

For mid-October, the sun sure was baking you in the bleachers. But it was the good kind of heat—cozy, not oppressive. The air smelled like dust and hay and horses. Behind you, the fair buzzed with life—kids screaming on the roller coasters, bells ringing as prizes were won, music from the concert stage floating over the field like static.

The Austin Fall Festival was in full swing.

Tommy sat beside you on the sun-warmed metal bench, one hand deep in a bag of kettle corn, the other resting easy on your knee. Down in the arena below your seats, another bull rider went airborne, thrown like a ragdoll into the dirt. The crowd let out a collective wince.

“Damn,” Tommy said, watching the guy scramble to his feet. “That’s gonna bruise.”

You snorted, grabbing a handful of popcorn. “Bruise? That man’s spine just folded in half.”

Tommy grinned, leaning in. “Bet I could do better.”

You raised a brow. “You can’t even get outta bed without your back crackin’ like fireworks.”

He laughed, mouth full of popcorn, then pressed a quick kiss to your lips—warm and familiar. “True. But I’d still look good tryin’.”

You smiled as you sipped your soda. The air smelled like caramel and something fried—probably the funnel cake stand you passed earlier. You sat close enough to the arena that you could hear the thud of hooves, the pop of the announcer’s mic, the wave of cheers and groans rolling through the stands behind you. It felt electric.

Sarah was up soon. Her first barrel race. She’d been buzzing about it for weeks.

You leaned into Tommy’s side, and he brought his arm up to wrap around your shoulders, giving you an affectionate squeeze.

This was good. A sense of normalcy again.

Then, a familiar face caught your eye making his way up the bleachers. Joel had a bag of cotton candy in one hand and was weaving through the crowd with ease up the stairs. He reached your row and slid in beside you, a small smile already on his face.

“Just left Sarah with her trainer,” he said, a little out of breath. “She’s up in the next few.”

Then he leaned in to greet you, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek meant to be just a casual familial ‘hello’. But still, his stubble scraped your skin just enough to leave a spark, and he smelled like horses and leather and that subtle cologne he always wore. It hit somewhere low in your stomach, but you didn’t let it show. 

He greeted Tommy with a nod, and popped a puff of cotton candy into his mouth.

You made a face. “Ugh. How can you eat that stuff?”

Joel grinned around the sugar, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “It’s what makes me so sweet.”

You laughed, shaking your head and taking another sip of your soda. Tommy reached down for more popcorn, his arm brushing against your back as he dropped his hand from your shoulder, and Joel leaned forward to watch the next event being announced.

You sat between them, shoulders brushing, the sun warming your back, the crowd rising around you.

For a moment, it almost felt like things could settle. Like the three of you could fit into this new normal—comfortable, easy, like it was supposed to be this way all along. At least you hoped. 

The announcer’s voice crackled through the speakers, calling out Sarah’s name, and your heart gave a little skip.

“There she is,” Joel said, sitting forward with his elbows on his knees.

You leaned, too, eyes scanning the gate. Sure enough, Sarah was there behind the posts on her horse, nerves painted all over her posture even though she tried to play it cool. Even from here, you could just make out the furrow in her brow—the same quiet, determined look she got from her dad.

“She’s gonna kill it,” Tommy said beside you, resting his hand high on your thigh. He gave it a gentle squeeze, leaning into you as he said, “Ain’t no way she don’t win.”

You smiled, but it felt slightly delayed. Joel’s knee pressed against yours as he leaned close on your other side, eyes still locked on the arena.

“Hope she don’t cut that second barrel too close,” he muttered, mostly to himself, his voice low and rough. “She keeps doin’ that in practice. Gets excited and leans too early.”

“She’ll be fine,” you said, but you could hear the tension in your own voice. Joel’s hand had come to rest behind you on the bench, close to your lower back. Tommy’s fingers were still on your leg.

Sarah burst out of the gate, and the crowd roared. The three of you shot to your feet as her horse charged forward, hooves kicking up dust. She moved fast—tight, clean—rounding the first barrel like she’d done it a hundred times.

Joel was grinning ear to ear. “That’s my girl!”

His arm slid around your back, his other hand curled into a loose fist, pressed just beneath his mouth as if to contain the rush of emotion building in him. The hand at your back caught in the fabric of your blouse, fingers curling there, like he was tethering himself. Like he was bracing.

You tried to focus on Sarah, but all you could feel was the heat of his fingers, the way he clung to you, like your body was hyper aware of him.

You smiled, cheering, barely breathing, eyes fixed on her horse thundering toward the second turn. She hugged the barrel tight—too tight. A little wobble, a gasp from the crowd, but she corrected at the last second.

“She’s got it,” Tommy said beside you. His hand came to rest against the small of your back—right below where Joel’s hand was already bunched in your shirt. The two touches nearly met.

Neither of them moved.

Sarah charged toward the third barrel. Clean. Her final sprint down the home stretch brought the stands to their feet.

The three of you clapped, cheered, whooped, your heart racing, the electricity between the two men fizzing silently beside you. Tommy’s hand splayed wide across your backside. Joel barely moved, watching the timer screen flash across the display.

“That’s a good run,” he said, low and proud. His fingers loosened from your shirt, but he didn’t move his hand away.

“She’s gonna place,” Tommy agreed.

“She might win it,” you added, turning your head to look at them.

Both of them were already looking at you.

You smiled, flushed from the excitement—but something in the way they each looked at you made your skin feel hot for an entirely different reason.

Neither of them said anything, and for a second, the moment just… hung there. Their hands on you. The roar of the crowd fading into something muted.

Then the announcer called the next name, and the energy around you snapped back into motion.

Joel pulled his arm back to grab the cotton candy. Tommy slid his hand away like nothing had happened.

But your body remembered. And so did theirs.

After catching up with Sarah after her event, she was still buzzing with adrenaline. Practically bouncing.

“Did you see how fast he took that last curve?!” she gasped, practically skipping between you and Joel. “I was freaking out when the second barrel started to tip—did you see that?! Were you guys watching?!”

Joel was all pride and smiles as he walked beside her, teasing and nodding along, soaking in every word. She rambled on about her trainer’s horses, how they’d competed at Rodeo Austin for real, how she couldn’t wait to do it again. Eventually, she managed to talk the three of you into a round at the BB gun booth.

All four of you took a stance—Sarah coached dramatically, and you, predictably, failed miserably your first try. Joel and Tommy moved to the next round, and you watched from the side with Sarah, both of you hollering in support.

“Hit it! Hit it!” Sarah screeched at her dad. You let out a whoop as Tommy nailed the bullseye again and again.

When the game runner handed him a giant teddy bear, Tommy swung it into your arms with a triumphant grin before kissing you full on the mouth, unbothered by the crowd.

You laughed against his lips, hugging the bear tight, bouncing a little despite yourself.

“Uncle Tommy!” Sarah groaned, tugging at his arm until he pulled back from the kiss, grinning at her wide-eyed look. “Win me one too! Please?”

Tommy’s eyes sparkled as he looked at Joel, clearly amused that he was the one winning today. Joel rolled his eyes, but you caught the tightness in his jaw, the way his gaze lingered just a second too long as he glanced at your oversized teddy hitched on your hip.

“Go on, then,” Joel said, nodding toward the booth. “I’m gonna grab another beer.”

“I’ll join you,” you added quickly, glancing toward Tommy. But Sarah was already dragging him away, his hands back on the BB gun, ready for round two.

You and Joel peeled off quietly, heading toward the food and drink stands.

“Sarah was beggin’ for a funnel cake earlier,” Joel said, hands in his pockets. “Okay if we stop by one of the stands?”

“Yeah, ’course,” you murmured, falling into step beside him.

The walk was quiet—not awkward, exactly, but the air between you had thickened. Every step felt like it carried the weight of something unsaid.

You hadn’t talked much since the therapy session. Not really. Not about anything that mattered. The three of you had agreed to give it space—to breathe, to not immediately push into definitions or rules or boundaries.

But space didn’t feel like clarity. It felt like walking on eggshells. Like waiting for someone else to speak first, only no one ever did.

You weren’t sure what this was supposed to look like now. The idea of exploring an open relationship had been thrown out into the room like a life raft, but no one had said if they were actually ready to grab onto it. Not Joel. Not Tommy. Not even you.

You made it all the way to the counter before either of you spoke again.

“Make that two funnel cakes, please,” you said, just as Joel ordered Sarah’s.

He raised an eyebrow.

“What?” you laughed, lifting a shoulder. “Can’t help the cravings.” You reached for your wallet. “I’ll get Sarah’s too.”

Joel stopped you, his hand catching your wrist as you moved to your back pocket.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he muttered, already pulling out cash.

Then, quieter—low enough that the vendor wouldn’t hear, but just loud enough for you—he added, “Guess that sweet tooth runs in the genes.”

Your heart stumbled a beat. He didn’t look at you. Didn’t smirk, didn’t wink, but you could swear there was a twinkle in his eye when he turned back to you as you both stepped aside to wait for your order.

And just like that, the silence settled back in—only now it wasn’t neutral. It was charged.

When the funnel cakes came, you didn’t hesitate—tearing off a bite, still warm and soft, powdered sugar sticking to your lips.

You sighed in delight. “Oh my God.”

Joel was watching you when you looked up. That slight smirk on his face.

“What?” you asked, mouth full.

“You got a little somethin’,” he said, gesturing vaguely near his own mouth.

You licked your lips automatically, tongue sweeping the corner.

“Nope,” he murmured, chuckling. “Still there.”

Before you could try again, his hand reached out. Fingers warm and rough as they curled under your chin. His thumb dragged gently across your upper lip, brushing away the sugar with a slow swipe.

You froze—your breath caught somewhere in your throat as your eyes searched his face. The lights from the festival sparkled in his eyes, and behind him the sky had deepened into a wash of orange and violet.

Then his gaze dropped to your mouth, and he moved.

His lips brushed yours—soft, hesitant—like he wasn’t sure if this counted as crossing a line, or if the line had disappeared altogether. But he didn’t pull back right away. Instead, he paused there, the warmth of his breath ghosting against your mouth, and for a second neither of you moved. 

You stood still in that sliver of space where touch becomes choice, where you could pretend it hadn’t happened yet. But then his mouth pressed into yours fully, slowly, like he was tasting something he already knew. It wasn’t hungry. It wasn’t rushed. It was deliberate, drawn out and gentle. 

His hand stayed at your chin, his thumb pinching just barely as if to steady you, and your lips parted instinctively beneath his. You felt the sigh in his chest more than you heard it, like something deep inside him had let go the second your mouths met. 

Your hands stayed at your sides, fist clenched around the paper tray still holding your funnel cake, the other hugging the teddy bear to your side, your heart pounding so hard you could feel it in your throat. It wasn’t a kiss born from adrenaline or jealousy—it wasn’t the kind of kiss that begged for permission. It simply was. 

When he pulled back, it wasn’t abrupt. It was slow, like he didn’t really want to stop, but knew he had to. His lips hovered a moment longer—just close enough that you could still feel the heat of him—and then he stepped back half a breath. You didn’t dare move. Couldn’t. You stood there staring at him, your lungs burning like you’d been holding your breath the entire time. Joel’s eyes dropped to your mouth again, and then, with a subtle flick of his tongue, he licked the last trace of powdered sugar from his bottom lip. The gesture was unthinking, automatic, but the sheer sight of it landed somewhere low and electric in your stomach, like a match being struck.

And then the world came rushing back in.

The noise of the fairgrounds—the buzz of voices, the bark of game operators, the soft whir of rides—returned all at once, like someone had turned the volume back up. You swallowed hard and looked away, trying to force air into your lungs, trying to stop the trembling in your fingers. Joel didn’t say anything. He just nodded once, almost to himself, and turned to start walking back toward the game booth. You followed beside him, the heat still high in your cheeks, your steps too careful, like if you moved too fast you might lose your balance.

You glanced up at him once, just to see if he was as composed as he acted, but the faint pink flush at the tips of his ears gave him away.

“Dad!”

Sarah’s voice snapped your head up. She was running toward you, a giant stuffed horse clutched in her arms, nearly half her size. She was beaming. “Can I go find Claire and Maddie again? They’re headed to the ferris wheel!”

Joel handed her the funnel cake without hesitation, “Yeah, go on, just stay where we can see you.”

“Thanks!” she chirped, already spinning away with her prize in tow, the funnel cake tipping dangerously as she ran off.

But your eyes weren’t on her.

They were on Tommy, just catching up to you—beer in one hand, the other stuffed in his front pocket, a smile on his face as he watched her go. When his eyes found yours, they flicked to Joel beside you, and something in his expression changed. Not angry, not suspicious… but aware. Like he was conscious of some shift between the two of you.

You tried to will the pink from your cheeks, steady the pulse in your throat as you stepped toward him and offered your funnel cake like nothing had happened.

“That kid had me goin’ three more rounds to get her that prize,” Tommy chuckled, clearly trying to break whatever tension had settled back between the three of you as he tore off a piece and popped it in his mouth.

Joel let out a quiet laugh, eyes following in the direction Sarah had run off. “Better go catch up with her before I lose ’er.”

Tommy nodded, then glanced at you. “Think we’ll call it a night after this. She’ll be wired for another hour and then crash hard.”

You smiled, grateful for the exit.

As Joel nodded and began to step away, Tommy called after him casually, “Hey—when you drop her off, mind swingin’ by the house? Think I left that box of tools in your truck bed last week.”

Joel glanced over his shoulder. “Yeah. Sure.” his eyes landed on you for the briefest moment, “See ya in a bit then,”

Tommy gave him a two-finger wave, then turned his attention back to you, the last bite of funnel cake pinched between his fingers, wrapping his arm around your shoulders as the two of you walked out of the fair.

The drive home wasn’t long, but it felt like it stretched forever.

Tommy’s hand had been on your thigh from the moment he slid into the driver’s seat—steady at first, but now, it was creeping higher with every turn he made. His fingers flexed just at the top of your leg, the pad of his thumb brushing over your jeans in slow, distracting strokes.

“Tommy,” you said, a quiet breath more than a word.

“Yeah?” His voice was low, too casual for the way his fingers were moving now.

“You’re bein’ handsy.”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, smirking. “Yeah, well. You’re lettin’ me.”

This wasn’t like him.

Yes, Tommy was affectionate—always had been. Touching your lower back as you passed through a crowd, brushing his lips over your shoulder while you stood at the sink, nudging your knee under the table just to remind you he was there.

But his gestures had never been… naughty.

Never anything that lit a fuse under your skin like the way his hand was gripping your thigh now. Never anything that made your breath stutter in your chest just from the press of his fingers curling possessively around your skin.

He was usually more careful with you. Gentle.

Tommy was the kind of man who waited until you were both tucked under the covers, warm and safe, soft and sleepy, before climbing over you with a smile and a kiss to your neck. The kind of man who made you smile first, made sure the world had quieted before he pulled you under.

You turned your head, looking at him from the passenger seat. He was focused on the road, jaw tight, eyes hard on the curve of the pavement as he turned into the neighborhood. But there was a spark there, flashing hot and alive beneath his usual easy exterior.

Your gaze slid down as he shifted in his seat, and your eyes caught on the undeniable shape in his jeans.

Heat bloomed in your face. Your chest. Lower.

The tight bulge in his lap pulsed like a secret between you, and it made your thighs press together involuntarily. But it wasn’t just the fact that he was aroused—it was that he wasn’t hiding it. That he was feeling you up in the front seat of the truck, on your quiet neighborhood street, away from the safety of the four walls of your bedroom.

Tommy, who usually waited until the house was dark and the doors were locked. Who kissed you slowly, slid his hands under your shirt and whispered “you okay?” even after years of being together.

He just slid his hand between your legs and gripped your inner thigh like he’d been thinking about it all night.

It sent heat rolling through you, sharp and dizzying. Not just from the touch, but from the awareness of how out of place it was. How unlike him it was to let go like this, to need like this, especially outside the safety of home.

And God help you—you liked it.

You pressed your legs together, your breath catching in your throat, trying to remember how to sit still while every nerve in your body screamed at you to climb into his lap and ride him right there in the middle of the road.

He felt your squirming as he pulled into the driveway, the tires crunching softly over gravel. The second the truck shifted into park and the headlights clicked off, the cab was swallowed in quiet shadow, only the streetlamp catching the edge of his jaw.

He turned toward you, that smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth—the kind that made your stomach flip. His hand slid from your thigh to the top of your seat, arm stretched across the backrest, his gaze drinking you in from the other side of the bench.

“C’mere,” he said, low and smooth, nodding for you to slide over.

You bit your lip, heart thudding, and obeyed without a word—scooting across the cracked leather until your thigh brushed his.

His hand dropped from the headrest to cradle the back of your neck, warm and firm. The other left the steering wheel, finding your cheek, fingers spreading across your jaw like he needed to anchor you in place.

And then he kissed you.

Not the sweet, half-thought kisses he’d given you throughout the day. Not careful, not playful. This was deep. Needy. Starving. Like he’d been holding it back for too long and didn’t care anymore if it showed.

His mouth slanted over yours again and again, open and hot, tongue sweeping past your lips like it belonged there. The soft sounds he made—those low, growling hums that rumbled in his throat—sent heat surging through your core.

Your breath stuttered as his grip on your neck tightened, his other hand trailing slowly down from your face to trace along your body until it was back at your denim clad thighs. He gripped hard, his palm sliding up along the seam of your jeans, squeezing just enough to make you shift in your seat.

When he tugged gently at the base of your hair, just at the nape, a moan slipped from your throat before you could catch it.

You broke the kiss just long enough to gasp, “Who are you and what have you done with my husband?”

He huffed a breath against your skin, already moving to your neck, kissing a line down the column of your throat. His mouth was open, his tongue slow, dragging heat behind every press of his lips, and then—teeth. A soft bite that made your body jolt.

“Wanted to get my hands on you all day,” he muttered between kisses, voice muffled against your skin. “Lookin’ so pretty,”

You whimpered, nails curling into the fabric of his shirt as he worked lower, pushing your neckline aside with one hand just to mouth at the new skin he found there.

You were panting now, flushed all over, your thighs pressing together as he kissed, bit, sucked like he was trying to brand you.

“Tommy,” you breathed, completely undone, and when he looked back up at you—lips swollen, eyes dark—you barely recognized the hunger in his face.

“Get your ass inside,” he rasped. “Now.”

You climbed out the passenger door, giddy like a teenager all over again, your skin still tingling from his hands and mouth and voice. As you made your way up the walk, Tommy’s hand came down in a playful smack against your rear, making you squeal and laugh over your shoulder at him.

He didn’t smile—not fully. His eyes were too dark, too focused. But the edge of his mouth twitched like he was barely holding himself together.

By the time you reached the door, his chest was already at your back, his arms snaking around you, mouth grazing your ear. “You drive me crazy, baby… you know that?” he murmured, voice low and breath hot.

You fumbled the keys, giggling as he pressed closer. “You’re the one who couldn’t keep your hands to himself.”

“And you didn’t stop me,” he whispered, nuzzling your jaw. “Didn’t want to, did you?”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to.

The door clicked open and the second you were inside, his hands were on you again—spinning you around, backing you up against the wall just inside the entry. His mouth crashed into yours, deeper this time, slower but no less desperate. His hands slid up your sides, over your waist, thumbs hooking into your belt loops to keep you flush against him.

He kissed you like he hadn’t touched you in weeks. Like he’d been starving for you.

By the time you pulled apart for air, you were both breathless and a little dizzy.

“Upstairs,” he murmured, voice ragged, his hands slipping down to grab yours, guiding you behind him.

At the top, he didn’t even pause—just pulled you straight into the bedroom and kicked the door shut behind you with one solid thud. And then his hands were back on your hips, his mouth on your throat, and whatever this was—it wasn’t slowing down anytime soon.

Your back hit the bedroom wall with a soft thump, and Tommy barely gave you time to catch your breath before his mouth was on you again, pressing into the curve of your neck, open and hot, his hands splayed across your hips like he couldn’t keep his hands still.

You gasped as he nipped at the base of your throat, your hands tangling in his shirt, gripping the fabric tight. He groaned softly against your skin, one hand sliding up under your top, rough fingers skimming over your ribs like he needed to feel all of you.

“Tommy—” you breathed, but it came out more like a sigh.

He pulled back just far enough to look at you, his chest rising and falling hard, eyes dark and locked onto yours. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

You shook your head before the words even formed. “Don’t.”

That was all he needed.

He tugged your shirt up, slow but sure, breaking contact just long enough to pull it over your head and toss it to the floor. His eyes dropped, sweeping over your bare skin like it physically pained him to look away. One of his hands slid behind you and unclasped your bra in a smooth motion, and let it slide from your shoulders. His hands were reverent, warm and wide as they came up to cup you, thumbs brushing over your nipples, and the groan that left him was raw, almost pained.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he said, like a thought spoken out loud.

You reached for the hem of his shirt, dragging it up over his stomach and chest. He helped you the rest of the way, yanking it over his head and tossing it behind him. His mouth was back on you before you could get a good look, lips trailing heat down your collarbone, your sternum, the swell of your breast. He kissed your flesh until you were arching into him, fingers tangling in his hair.

His hands moved to the button of your jeans next, and you gasped when he popped it open and dragged the zipper down, his knuckles grazing the skin just below your belly. You toed off your shoes, the soft thud of them hitting the carpet barely registering over the pounding in your ears. His hands slid to your waist, and he dropped to his knees, pulling your jeans down inch by inch, kissing the skin he uncovered like it was a map he already knew by heart.

By the time he got your jeans off, his mouth never left your skin, kissing along your hip bone, his breath hot and shaky. His hands slid up your thighs, slow and worshipful—until they weren’t. Until they were gripping.

His fingers dug into your flesh, pulling you closer as he moved up to kiss your stomach, chest, throat—claiming every inch like it was his and his alone. You were breathless by the time he kissed you again, and when he pushed you back onto the bed, you went willingly, your back sinking into the sheets, arms stretching above your head.

He hovered over you, eyes tracing every inch of your face. And then something flickered there. Something sharp.

“You let him touch you like this?” he asked, voice low but tight, as his hand moved between your legs, cupping you over your panties. The lace was already damp beneath his fingers, your arousal bleeding through the fabric. He dragged a finger along the center, slow and deliberate, and you felt the heat bloom deeper as the pressure built.

Your breath caught. “Tommy—”

“Just tell me,” he murmured, kissing your jaw, then your throat. “Did he touch you like this?” He pressed the heel of his palm in, slow but firm, dragging a moan from your lips even as your brows pulled together.

“Stop,” you breathed, trying to push up on your elbows. “It doesn’t matter.”

But he shook his head, his hand sliding your underwear down your thighs, slow and rough all at once. “It does to me.”

He kissed you again—deeper this time, almost bruising until his hands guided you to roll over, his touch less gentle now, more insistent. He pulled your hips up until you were on your knees, chest pressed into the bed, your face turned toward the pillows. You barely had time to catch your breath before you felt him—hot and hard, the blunt weight of his cock pressing against you.

You arched back into it instinctively, needing him to forget everything else, to just feel this—feel you.

“You’re mine,” he breathed, pushing into you with one steady thrust that made you gasp, your fingers curling into the comforter. “Always been mine.”

You moaned, eyes shutting tightly as he moved inside you—rougher now, his rhythm firm, controlled, but not cruel. Just desperate. Like he had something to prove.

Every sound that left him was strained, thick with emotion—his hands spreading across your hips, his thumb trailing up your spine like he needed to feel every piece of you to believe this was real.

The sound of your moans and Tommy’s grunts filled the air, the sheets rubbing against your skin beneath you, it was almost loud enough to drown out the front door opening.

But then you heard his voice.

“Tommy?”

Your eyes flew open, breath catching in your throat. That was Joel’s voice coming from downstairs. Your mind scrambled to remember why the hell he was here. And then you remembered Tommy’s request. Some stupid tool box he needed.

Tommy stilled for half a second—just long enough for your heart to lurch—before he started moving again, slower this time, deeper. Like he was doubling down.

You grunted, biting your lip to swallow the moan that threatened to give you away. Your hand scrambled for the edge of the sheets, something to grip, something to hold you to earth.

Your blood ran hot and cold all at once.

Joel’s voice came again—closer. “You home?”

“We’re up here,” Tommy called back, voice completely steady.

No.

Your entire body tensed under him, your head whipping to the side, eyes locked on the closed bedroom door.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you hissed, panicked, but he only dropped more of his weight onto you, one hand pressing flat between your shoulder blades, the other tightening around your hip. You were locked in place beneath him, your breath coming fast.

“Shh, shh, shh,” Tommy cooed, his voice sweet but mocking as his hips kept moving, slow and steady and deep. “Ain’t gonna stop now.”

There was a creak on the stairs.

Your heart slammed into your throat.

“Tommy,” you hissed again, but it came out half-broken, your voice catching in your chest.

And then—

The door swung open.

“Jesus—” Joel flinched hard, turning away with a grunt and lifting a hand to cover his eyes. “What the hell, man!?”

Tommy didn’t stop.

His grip on you tightened, his thrusts slowing just a hair—but only to lean down, breath hot against your ear as he rasped, “That what you wanted, huh? Him seein’ you like this?”

You whimpered, caught between mortification and a heat that made your knees weak.

“Tommy—please—” you gasped, struggling half-heartedly beneath him.

But he was gone.

“Think you can just fuck my wife whenever you want?” Tommy growled, looking over at Joel now, chest heaving, voice thick with rage and something else—something darker. “Think you do it better?”

Joel turned slightly, eyes caught somewhere between fury and disbelief. “You’ve lost your goddamn mind—”

“Have I?” Tommy snapped, his voice low and dangerous as he fucked into you harder now, like he was trying to prove something with every movement. “’Cause she’s drippin’ all over my cock right now. You seein’ this?”

You let out a broken sound, face buried in the mattress. You wanted to crawl out of your skin—and yet the way Tommy was holding you, the filthy things coming out of his mouth, the heat between the three of you…

It was too much.

Joel’s mouth opened like he was about to say something else—but he didn’t.

He stared.

He stayed.

And your heart nearly exploded as Tommy chuckled low in his throat, thrusting deep and slow again like he wanted Joel to see it.

“That’s right,” Tommy said, never looking away. “Go on. Watch. See what it looks like when a man takes care of what’s his.”

“Call this takin’ care?” Joel said, voice low, sharp with something mean and taunting beneath the surface.

Your eyes flicked up, wide, and found his—and the heat there made your breath catch.

“Tell me, little brother,” Joel drawled, “you ever felt her come all over that dick of yours?”

Tommy’s movements faltered. Just for a second.

You felt it—his grip loosening slightly on your hips, his breath catching.

Your heart was in your throat, beating so hard it hurt.

Joel stepped forward, slow, measured. His eyes dragged over your body—not like it was new to him, but like he knew every inch of it already. Like he could trace it blind, by memory alone.

“Didn’t think so,” he murmured.

Then his gaze locked with yours.

“Should we show him, sweetheart?” he asked, and your stomach dropped clean through the mattress. “Show him what he’s been missin’?”

Your mouth parted, no sound coming out.

Joel tilted his head, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Think my pissy little brother needs some pointers?”

Tommy let out a rough breath behind you, a mix between a growl and a scoff, his hand sliding up your spine possessively.

“She’s my goddamn wife,” he snapped, but his voice wasn’t steady anymore.

Joel’s gaze flickered up, darkening, “Then fuckin’ act like it.”

The silence was deafening—so thick you could hear your own pulse in your ears.

Tommy’s hands flexed on your hips again. And then he thrust—hard. Deep. A sound ripped out of you that wasn’t quiet at all.

And Joel’s expression changed. Softer. Almost smug. Almost… proud.

“She sure makes the prettiest sounds, don’t she?” he said, and he approached the bed. Your skin felt like it was on fire as Tommy stilled completely, but he was still hard inside you to your surprise.

“Turn her over,” Joel said steadily.

Tommy’s head snapped toward him. “Get the hell out.”

“You invited me in here, little brother.” Joel’s tone was exasperatingly calm. 

You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. Both men. In the room with you while you were naked and taking your husband’s cock.

Your heart pounded against your ribs, wild and uneven, like it was trying to warn you. Or maybe it was just overwhelmed.

You didn’t know where to look. Joel, standing there with that infuriating calm like this was just another Tuesday. Tommy, still inside you, bristling with fury, sweat sticking his hair to his forehead as he tried to process what was happening.

And you—trapped in the middle, hips pinned beneath the man you married, body still burning for the one you hadn’t stopped thinking about since that first night.

You should’ve felt humiliated. You did. But your skin still tingled everywhere Joel’s eyes touched.

Tommy was quick to snap at his brother, “And now I want you out.”

Joel didn’t flinch. “And what do you want, sweetheart?” he asked, gaze cutting to you, his head tilted slightly as his eyes took in the flushed features of your face.

You exhaled slowly, your lungs feeling like they’d deflated. Your mouth was dry, but you licked your lips anyway, then turned your face to look back at Tommy, biting down gently on the inside of your cheek.

Tommy’s face twisted in disbelief. “You’re kidding.”

“Just…” you breathed, heart pounding in your throat, “let’s just see. It could be fun.” You swallowed. “We haven’t made any rules yet.”

Tommy looked between the two of you—his jaw tight, his eyes wide, stunned. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face before he finally pulled out of you, breath ragged. “Alright. Turn over.”

You moved quickly, your skin flushed and glowing, body still trembling as you flipped onto your back. The sheets were warm under you, your thighs still slick, still open.

Behind you, you heard the unmistakable rustle of clothes—the metal clink of a belt, the soft drag of a zipper—and then Joel was there.

The heat of him hit you first. He was so warm, and as he stepped to the side of the bed, the mattress dipped slightly with his weight.

“This is so fuckin’ weird,” Tommy muttered, shaking his head as he moved to kneel between your legs again.

You sat up a little, cupping his face, dragging your hand down the center of his chest, his stomach. “I love you,” you whispered, searching his eyes. “If you don’t want this, we stop. Say the word.”

Tommy stared down at you for a long second. His lips pressed together, pulled inward like he was thinking too hard. His eyes flicked to Joel, then back to you.

He sighed, jaw clenching. “Just this once. And if it doesn’t work—”

“Never again,” you finished softly, nodding.

Only then did you glance up at Joel.

He nodded once, slow and assured, his hand already moving to the bulge in his briefs. Your eyes followed—broad chest, tan skin, strong forearms—and you couldn’t help yourself. You leaned back, just slightly, hand drifting up to cup him through the fabric. Joel exhaled, low and rough, eyes fluttering shut as your palm rubbed against him.

“Show him,” you said softly.

His eyes opened again, sharper now, a slow smirk curling at the corner of his mouth.

“Not sure he deserves it after all that attitude,” Joel muttered, voice teasing but laced with heat.

“Joel—” you warned.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, rolling his eyes—but his voice was dark now, thicker. “But then it’s my turn.”

You watched him hook his thumbs in the waistband of his briefs, pushing them down with one slow motion that revealed all of him—hard, heavy, already flushed. Your breath caught at the sight, heat flooding through you like a second pulse.

He fisted himself gently, watching you, waiting.

Above you, Tommy shifted. You turned to look at him and his mouth was drawn tight, eyes hard with conflict. But he didn’t pull away. Instead, he moved closer, settling between your legs again, hands sliding up your thighs.

You stared up at him, unsure if he’d really go through with it. But then he lined himself up, his cock dragging through your folds, and you gasped at the contact.

He sighed low, almost like relief, as he sank into you with one long, slow push. The weight of him settling into your hips, the feeling of him filling you again—it made your head fall back, your mouth falling open.

The tension in the room turned molten.

Tommy’s hands slid to your thighs, gripping tight like he needed something to hold on to. His eyes flicked up to Joel, who was still settled at your side, close enough now that you could feel his presence, warm and electric.

You barely registered Joel moving until you felt his hand close around your wrist. Firm. Certain. He guided your hand to his cock—thick and hot and heavy—and curled your fingers around him like he was placing something sacred into your palm.

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t hesitate.

You wrapped your lips around the head, soft and swollen and already leaking, and sucked—slow, reverent, like you’d been dreaming of this since the last time. And you had been.

Joel hissed through his teeth, his hand threading through your hair as you hollowed your cheeks and pulled him deeper. “Good girl,” he muttered. Your entire body clenched at the praise.

Tommy groaned above you, building up his thrusts, erratic and messy as you pulsed around him.

“Slow down,” Joel said, calm, instructive. “Long, even strokes. Deep.”

Tommy cursed under his breath but obeyed, grinding into you with a slower, heavier rhythm that made your whole body arch forward, your mouth taking Joel deeper.

“Good,” Joel murmured. “Now thumb her clit.”

You whimpered around his cock, the sound thick and broken. Tommy’s thumb slid over your swollen clit in soft, careful circles, and your whole body clenched around him.

“She’s grippin’ the hell outta me,” Tommy breathed. “Fuck.”

Joel’s voice was right above you now, rough but steady. “Spit on it.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Spit on her clit. She likes it messier.”

You moaned, mouth full of Joel, your thighs twitching.

Tommy grunted again, but when you felt the warm wet hit of spit on your skin, you moaned loudly, hips bucking. His thumb slid through the slickness building there, the glide smoother, filthier, perfect.

“That’s it,” Joel growled. “Keep her right there. Thumb her just like that. Don’t stop. Her throat is squeezin’ me so good when you do that.”

You couldn’t breathe. Your body was clenching up, something coiling in your spine and hips as he kept up the pace. Joel’s cock dragged across your tongue, thick and pulsing, while Tommy thrust into you—slower now, more precise, but still not quite enough.

You loved Tommy’s rhythm—the care in it, the way he was doing everything to get you there, the way he wanted to get you there. But your orgasm wasn’t building the same way. It was harder to catch, harder to ride. Joel’s cock had a weight, a stretch that reached something deeper in you—something that made your body respond instantly. With Tommy, it took more. He was only slightly smaller, narrower, not lacking, just… different.

Still good. Still yours. But different.

“She’s close,” Joel said, voice ragged now, eyes locked on your face. “I can feel it.”

Tommy groaned, cock twitching inside you as you clenched down hard. “Jesus, she’s—fuck, she’s so tight.”

“You wanna come for Tommy, sweet girl?” Joel asked, still beside you on bed, one hand fisted in your hair where it spilled across the bedspread, thumb brushing softly over your cheek.

Your eyes fluttered open to meet his—and in the same breath, Joel guided his cock back between your lips, sliding into your mouth with a slow, deliberate push that made your throat stretch and burn in the best way.

You gagged softly, the movement rippling through your body. Tommy moaned at the sudden convulsion of your walls around him, his one hand gripping your hip so hard it would leave bruises. The other kept circling your clit with his thumb, your eyes warring between rolling back and trying to focus on Joel. 

“Fuck—she just—goddamn,” Tommy breathed, his hips faltering for half a second before finding that rhythm again. Deep, slow strokes that had your whole body arching beneath him.

Joel pulled back with a wet pop, a string of spit and precum connecting your lips to the flushed tip of his cock. You were gasping for breath, whimpering and moaning as he leaned down close, hovering just over your face, thumb wiping at your mouth like it was his.

You were hovering now, your spine tingling with the build up. So close. But not there yet. Your body wanted more.

And Joel knew.

Of course he knew.

“Tommy’s got you so full, huh?” Joel murmured, voice like gravel soaked in honey in your ear, low enough that only you could hear. “Still not enough to make you come, greedy girl?”

His breath brushed the shell of your ear, and your whole body twitched.

You couldn’t answer—not with words. But your eyes found his, wide and pleading, glassy with need. You looked up at him from where your head rested on the sheets, Joel crouched beside you now, shadowing over your face like he could read everything you couldn’t say aloud.

And he could. He always could.

Your chest rose with a broken breath as your mouth parted—no sound, just air. One of his hands stayed tangled in your hair, grounding you. The other drifted down, palm dragging with reverence over your chest, and when it reached your breast, his touch went still.

He watched you as if testing the waters. The second your back arched into his palm, just a little, the faintest tremble of pleading… he smirked.

“There she is,” he murmured, his thumb brushing your nipple slowly and deliberately before twisting and palming, kneading your flesh. Your thighs jerked and your eyes fluttered closed, breath stalling in your throat.

Joel leaned in, voice like silk soaked in heat.

“Gonna have to beg him for it,” he murmured, this time loud enough for his brother to hear, dragging his thumb over you again as your back arched once more. “Go on. Show him how sweet you sound when you’re right at the edge.”

He kissed your temple, lips warm and just barely there before sitting up again.

“Show him what you gave me.”

Your breath was a broken thing, chest heaving, your legs locked around Tommy’s waist as his cock filled you over and over again, his thumb grinding against your clit with every thrust. You could barely speak—but you tried.

“Please,” you whispered, blinking up at Tommy. “Please don’t stop.”

His eyes were wide, blown out, sweat dripping from his brow, “Fuck,” he muttered. “Say it again.”

“Please, Tommy,” you gasped, fingers gripping his arms. “Please let me come—need it—need it so bad.”

Joel’s hand moved from your hair to stroke slowly over his cock at the edge of the bed, gaze flicking between your face and Tommy’s. “There it is,” he murmured. “You hear that? That’s yours, little brother. Make her fuckin’ come on your cock.”

Tommy’s rhythm picked up, driving into you with slow, hard strokes that hit deep, his thumb never stopping the delicious circles over your clit just like Joel had told him.

Your head fell back. Your thighs shook. Your whole body started to come apart.

As your jaw fell open, Joel took your mouth again—his cock thick and slick as it pressed past your lips, filling your mouth with one steady thrust. You welcomed it greedily, your moan muffled and broken, your tongue flattening beneath the weight of him.

Your back arched off the bed, body seizing with pleasure as your orgasm hit like a tidal wave—white-hot, all-consuming. Joel’s hand was back in your hair, holding you down, guiding your mouth as your throat fluttered around him, his cock pressing deeper with every pulse. The other squeezed and twisted your breast as you rode your high.

Tommy groaned loudly above you, his voice rough, desperate, like he’d just been torn open.

“Holy fucking shit,” he gasped, and his hips jerked once, twice—then stilled.

You felt it. The heat of him spilling into you, thick and heavy, your cunt already so wet and wrecked it only made you twitch harder around him. His breath stuttered out in harsh bursts, body shuddering as he emptied himself deep inside you.

“That’s it,” Joel growled. “That’s a good girl, baby.”

He fucked your mouth with slow, controlled strokes—gentle now, reverent—before finally pulling out, letting you fall back against the bed with a gasp, your chest heaving as your climax still rippled through your body.

Your vision blurred at the edges, nerves lit up like static. You barely felt Tommy at first—his hands adjusting on your hips, his breathing shaky.

Then, after a long, weighted pause, Tommy slowly eased back, slipping out of you with a wet drag that made your entire body jolt. You gasped softly at the loss, walls still fluttering from your orgasm, sensitive and aching.

The room went quiet again, thick and buzzing under the surface. You could hear Tommy’s breathing above you, could feel the shift in his body as he sat back on his heels, one hand sliding down your thigh as if to steady himself. He moved slowly to sit against the headboard, breathing heavily.

Your pulse thrummed at your neck, loud in your ears. You turned your head toward him, your skin flushed, lips swollen, heart racing. Tommy’s eyes found yours—dark, uncertain, something different behind them. Not anger or sadness, but something new and raw.

“Tommy,” you whispered, voice low, hoarse. You swallowed. “Can he…?”

You hesitated, heat prickling across your cheeks. You weren’t even sure what words you were looking for. You just knew what you needed.

“Can Joel… please?”

Tommy’s eyes scanned your face, then dropped to where your thighs were still parted, to the slick between them, to the tremble in your breath. He took a slow inhale, like he was weighing the cost of the question. Then he nodded. “Go on then. Show me what’s worth all this trouble.” You could swear there was a twitch at the corner of his mouth, a faint crinkle at the edge of his eyes. Not quite a smile. Maybe a dare.

Joel was already moving.

His hands found your body—confident, warm, rough as ever—as he pulled you up onto your knees and flushed your back against his chest. His arms wrapped around you easily, like they belonged there. Like he knew this body like the back of his hand.

You inhaled sharply at the feel of him behind you—solid muscle, the heavy press of his cock nudging against your lower back. He leaned in, mouth brushing your ear. His voice was low, rich, and dripping with something that made your skin tighten.

“Hope you’re payin’ attention, little brother,” Joel murmured, his grip tightening on your waist. “Gonna show you just how sweet she sounds when she gets what she needs.”

You watched Tommy’s jaw clench, and you muttered a short warning to Joel, “Stop,” 

Joel ignored you and his hand slipped down between your legs, fingers gliding through the mess Tommy left behind, gathering it in his fingers and spreading it through your puffy center, making your thighs shake.

“Jesus,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Still so wet.”

He let his fingers trail back up to your hip, palm splaying across your stomach as he held you there—against him, for him, like he was staking his claim right in front of Tommy.

Then he shifted. You felt the blunt head of his cock press against your entrance, thick and already slick from your mouth. Your breath caught.

“Hold on to me,” Joel murmured. His other hand slid up, cupping one of your breasts, his mouth brushing just behind your ear as your arms held tightly to his splayed over your torso.

And then he pushed in—slow, deep, deliberate.

Your body seized the moment he started to push in. The stretch was immediate—thicker, deeper, unforgiving. Your legs trembled, a broken moan slipping from your throat before you could stop it. It felt like your body forgot how to breathe, how to think—every nerve lit up as he filled you, inch by inch, until you couldn’t tell where you ended and he began.

Pressure bloomed deep in your core, sharp and aching, and still he kept going, his cock dragging against every hypersensitive spot until your thighs were shaking, your nails biting into his arm.

You gasped—"Joel!" sharp and high—and your head fell back against his shoulder like you couldn’t hold it up anymore. Your mouth parted, but no words came out. Just sound. Just a helpless, wrecked whimper that made Joel groan behind you.

Joel gritted his teeth, voice strained through a groan. “Fuck. Always so tight for me, baby. Takin’ me so good. Feels like he barely even touched you."

“Fuck off,” Tommy snapped from somewhere below you, voice rough, and you didn’t need to look to know he was watching—his breath hitched, uneven.

Joel noticed, too.

“My little brother’s gettin’ all worked up again,” he rasped, his cock sliding deeper, arms tightening around you. “Look at him, baby. Watchin’ you take my cock like this.”

You lifted your head just enough to find Tommy’s face—jaw locked, hand slowly fisting his already hardening cock as he sat back against the headboard, his chest rising and falling in shallow bursts.

Joel’s hand slid back between your legs, fingers circling your clit with unrelenting precision as he fucked you slow and deep.

“Talk to her, Tommy,” Joel said roughly.

Tommy shook his head, jaw clenched. “I—I don’t—”

“C’mon,” Joel grunted, thrusting into you harder, making you cry out. “You don’t want me talkin’ all this shit? Huh? Even if it makes her this wet—” his fingers slid lower, gathering slick, “—thinkin’ of us fightin’ over this sweet, perfect pussy?”

He fucked up into you hard as he growled, and it made you gasp in pleasure.

“Then talk, dammit.”

Tommy’s breath stuttered. You looked at him—desperate and open, mouth parted. You watched his throat bob as he tried to swallow whatever pride or hesitation was left.

Then, finally, his voice came low, rough, uncertain.

“You like this, baby?” he rasped, the words strange in his mouth but soaked in truth as he leaned forward, looking up at you. “Like me watchin’ while he fucks you?”

You moaned, the sound unholy and obscene as your body twitched. You tried to nod while Joel’s cock dragged deep again, slow and relentless, the stretch still too much, still perfect. 

“Oh, she fuckin’ loves it,” Joel growled in your ear. His palm slid up your chest, fingers curling over the other breast as he kept your back flush to him. “That look on her face? All fucked-out and needy.”

Tommy let out a shuddering breath. His eyes never left yours.

“Look at you,” he said, a little bolder now. “You’re so pretty like this. Letting us ruin you.”

Your breath hitched. Your thighs were shaking again, a whimper escaping as Joel’s fingers found your clit once more, slick and swollen. He rubbed you just right—tight, insistent circles that made your eyes roll back.

“Fuck, that’s it,” Joel grunted. “You close again, baby? I can feel it. You’re squeezin’ me so tight.”

Tommy leaned forward, looking up at you as he reached for your trembling legs, rubbing your skin and kneading it in his hands as his cock twitched in his hand, “That’s it, sweetheart. Come for us. Show us how much you love bein’ ours.”

That did it.

Your body clenched hard, a cry ripping from your throat as the orgasm slammed into you—fierce, fast, and overwhelming. You trembled violently, hips jerking, mouth open but wordless as you came again, harder this time, unraveling between them.

You were still shaking when your body started to shift—Joel's cock still buried deep, grinding against your overstimulated walls with every slow, hungry thrust. You reached forward, chest dropping toward the bed, bracing yourself on your hands as you whimpered through the aftershocks.

But you weren’t done. Not even close.

“Tommy,” you gasped, voice hoarse and half-broken. “Let me—please, let me touch you. Wanna make you come again.”

You reached for him blindly, your hand finding his thigh as he knelt close, cock hard again in his grip.

He looked stunned, blinking at you like he couldn’t believe it. “Jesus, baby,” he muttered, and he looked up at Joel, “How the hell are you still goin’ after that? The way she gripped me when--”

Joel gave a low, breathless laugh behind you, his thrusts never faltering. “Not my first time, remember?”

He leaned forward over your back, his voice rough and possessive in your ear.

“She gets like this,” Joel said, fucking into you harder now, making your arms tremble. “Once you open her up, she just needs. Can’t help herself, can you, baby?”

You moaned, loud and desperate, your hand finally wrapping around Tommy’s cock again, bringing it into your mouth.

Your husband groaned, hips twitching toward your touch. “Fuckin’ insatiable,” he breathed. “You’re gonna kill me, sweetheart.”

Joel grinned, lips brushing your shoulder before pulling back to straighten, gripping your hips. “She’s gonna milk us dry.”

You moaned at the filthy words, too far gone to be embarrassed, too full to care. You rocked between them, wrecked and desperate—Joel’s cock dragging deep inside you with each powerful thrust, your mouth stretched wide around Tommy’s length, tongue flattened along the underside.

Every time Joel thrusted forward, it shoved you farther onto Tommy’s cock. Your throat clenched, gagging slightly, and both men groaned—low and guttural at the dual sensation of your body constricting around them.

Your eyes watered, spit pooling at the corners of your lips as you tried to breathe around it, the slick sounds obscene in the best way.

Tommy’s hand came to your cheek, his thumb stroking gently along your jaw as he looked down at you. His face was tight with restraint, flushed and glassy-eyed, jaw twitching, “Look so pretty with a cock in her mouth, doesn’t she?”

Joel grunted behind you, slamming deep, making your body jolt forward. “Sure does,” he growled. “Takin’ us both so good, baby. Just like that.”

You whimpered, the only sound you could manage, body fluttering with overstimulation, throat spasming around Tommy’s cock as he hissed through his teeth.

Joel’s grip tightened, his thrusts getting faster, more desperate, and you could feel the wave starting to build again—relentless, all-consuming. You didn’t know how much more your body could take.

“Come on, baby,” Tommy groaned. “Fuck—your mouth feels so good, sweetheart. Just like that. Don’t stop.”

Joel leaned in, his voice thick with heat. “You gonna come again with your mouth full, baby? Think you can come for both of us this time?”

Your whole body responded—tightening instinctively, like those words alone triggered something deep inside. Joel’s hand slid beneath you, and you flinched with a soft gasp as his fingers found your clit again—soaked, swollen, aching from how close you already were.

It was too much. Too good. You couldn’t take it, and yet your body begged for more.

The touch was too light at first—then perfect. Circling. Pressing. Your spine arched, your thighs trembled, and your moan vibrated around Tommy’s cock, still heavy and hot on your tongue.

You could barely register where one of them ended and the other began—just pressure and stretch and friction and heat. Joel’s thrusts stayed deep and punishing, perfectly timed with the slow drag of his fingers.

Suddenly your whole body locked, muscles spasming as another orgasm tore through you—sharp and blinding, your vision whiting out as you clenched hard around Joel’s cock, milking him through every brutal thrust.

You moaned around Tommy’s length, the sound desperate and guttural, and that was all it took for either of them.

Joel cursed behind you—low, rough, wrecked. He thrust once, twice more, then buried himself as deep as he could go, spilling inside you with a broken growl. His hands were shaking where they gripped your hips, holding you there like he couldn’t let go.

The hot pulse of him filled you completely, thick and heavy, and the sensation only dragged your orgasm out longer, your legs trembling violently beneath you.

Tommy let out a choked moan above you, his hips stuttering as your throat fluttered around him. His hand cupped your cheek, and with one more shaky breath, he came—spilling into your mouth with a soft, desperate, “Fuck, baby.”

You took it all, swallowing around him as gently as you could, the muscles of your throat still spasming from Joel’s final, deep thrusts.

Then—finally—everything slowed.

Tommy pulled back with a groan, slumping onto the bed beside you with a heavy exhale, one arm flung over his face as he tried to catch his breath. Joel eased out of you from behind, and you whimpered at the emptiness, already missing the stretch of him, the weight. Your body felt boneless, dazed and trembling, as you rolled to your side and melted into the mattress beside Tommy.

Joel didn’t stay far. Within seconds, he collapsed on your other side with a low, satisfied grunt, still half-wrapped in heat and sweat. His arm slid beneath your head, pulling you gently against his chest until you were tucked in close, skin to skin, your cheek resting just below his collarbone.

You were fully tangled between them now—Joel’s leg brushing yours, Tommy’s chest warm against your back, his hand finding your thigh and resting there like a grounding weight.

The heat of three bodies lingered in the air—sticky and quiet and strangely comforting.

Tommy’s hand found your stomach and gave it a slow rub, and when you looked over at him—he was watching you, not angry, not brooding. Just… tired. And stunned.

You let out a laugh. A small, breathless one, but real.

Then another.

Your face tucked against Joel’s arm, shoulders shaking with laughter, and Joel chuckled too—low and lazy, like he couldn’t even muster the energy to be smug, “Troublemaker.”

Tommy let out a breathless huff, still holding you tight, and nuzzled into the curve of your neck. “I’m not sure I survived that,” he murmured, and then he started laughing too—open, surprised, stunned, “Feel like I blacked out halfway through,”

You turned your head toward him, smiling wide, and kissed the side of his mouth. “You were perfect.”

The three of you fell into an easy silence, wrapped up in sweat and warmth and the quiet hum of something unspoken—something new.

“Shit,” Joel muttered, his chest shaking from a chuckle, “Think we’re gonna need a bigger bed.”

And for the first time in a long time, the three of you were laughing together.

tag list: @alidiggory92 @pinkylouise @izzy698 @doblasftcisco @devotedlypaleluminary @elsplayground @puduvallee @victoriaholland @legoemma @leenieweenie12 @possiblyafangirl @alitaar @mads198-9 @emmaoc10 @auteurdelabre @the-last-twin-of-krypton @lilasskicker2 @levislegislation @flowercrowns-goodvibes

[zoieru]

Weirdly specific headcanons about the lads boys and your lip balm / chapstick ~

Xavier ~

'what's that smell? it...doesn't smell like shampoo usually does.'

he's cuddling on the sofa with you and lifts his head, hair a bit fluffed from where he was tucked into your neck and chest, and his light eyebrows draw in at the centre trying to work out where it comes from.

'smell? Mm...its probably my lipbalm, Xavier, here,'

he takes it when you grab it and give it to him, rolling it over in his fingers to read any writing around the edge, head resting back against you again. he takes off the lid and sniffs it, eyes widening slightly before smiling a touch.

'its nice. does it taste good?'

he sort of asks without thinking of the double entendre at first, but a second later he realises and his eyes hold a flicker of mischief as he brings his face closer, eyes flitting to your lips.

'i dont know, you tell me?'

then he's all up in your business, eyes closing as he brings his lips to yours almost exploratory as when you try a new snack.

'mmh, yes. I like it.'

'good'

you plant a soft little kiss on the end of his nose to a cute blink and blushed chuckle from him.

over the next few hours he keeps coming back to kiss you more pointedly, more often, to a raised eyebrow from you. he likes the feeling and smell of it on his lips, it makes them soft and makes him think of you.

'Xavier you can take it if you want, i have a spar-'

'I don't want one.'

'but...?'

He only wants the thin soft coating of it on his lips when it means he's kissed you recently.

Rafayel ~

once this man catches drift of your scented lip balms he is all over that shit. he'll insist on going to choose ones, buying too many since you cant try them at the store, and then pouts when you tell him you cant face trying on and wiping off like ten different lip balms just so he can smell and kiss you over and over to see which one is best.

youre sat on the bed, the fading sunlight shining through the domed windows of your shared bedroom and onto this ridiculous pile of little cylindrical tubes on the duvet.

'but...'

'the scents will mix, and anyway lip balm is supposed to be nourishing, not causing my lips to be sore because ive applied and scraped off loads of different ones'

'well how am i supposed to know which one is the best then?'

'you'll have to wait and see i guess, i can put a different one on at few hour intervals, itll be like a fun surprise, you can guess which one i have on!'

'thats tooo longggg'

later you catch him applying one on himself in the bathroom, he just couldnt wait okay!! when you do put one on, he materialises at your side, hands running over your skin and finding their way to your jaw as if he could sense it from the other room, and he tilts his head with a little cute smirk.

'next taste test? this one's going to be good, i can feel it.'

Zayne ~

'here,'

he hands you one that he picked off the shelf next to you as you perused the options.

'what, you like this one?'

'i'm not familiar with it, but its important to use ones with more natural ingredients, especially when applying to sensitive areas like your face and mouth.'

'mmh, makes sense.'

you buy a few different types at his behest, and then he watches you try them and smell them as he puts his stuff away around the house.

'do you like them?'

'this one smells really good, actually.'

'mh?'

he's at your side, finding himself strangely excited to have another scent to not only feel and smell when he kisses you, but also to associate with you like he does with your hair stuff or your perfume.

'it does, you're right.'

he takes your chin in his other hands fingers, his usually gentle but firm touch, and then runs his thumb featherlight across the edge of your bottom lip, dark eyelashes lowering slightly as his eyes seem to both soften and darken at the same time.

'does it taste just as good?'

Sylus ~

'get all of them'

'Sylus, there are like fifty options here, why would I need fifty lip balms?'

he just shrugs, that annoyingly handsome smirk on his face as he feigns nonchalance.

'just trying to be supportive, kitten. no need to scratch now.'

'being supportive would be you helping me pick one'

'mmh, would it now?'

he was waiting to be asked, he's irritating like that. you rolled your eyes subtly and couldnt help the smile off his face as he on cue started analysing the options on the shelf with a discerning critical eye. after a silence, you pause, and glance at him sidelong.

'so?'

he points to a few in succession, speaking in a slow thoughtful sort of drawl as he ponders, playful yet serious simultaneously. It's an important decision, of course.

'too sweet, too floral, too colourful, too...is that glitter? i thought this was supposed to be health related, not glamourous. though i suppose a mix of both might be alluring. mmh...this one'

he holds it out to you, made up his mind. not stating his reason outright obviously. he looks down at you and eyes flick between your face and his choice, very subtly figuring out your reaction to his choice. as you leave the shop after buying, and go to put on your helmet to get on his bike, his hand comes to rest on top of it, stopping its path, and he raises an eyebrow, cocking his head. You blink.

'hm?'

'well, come now, are you going to let me try the latest flavour of the lips i so often indulge in, or would you be cruel and have me wait?'

Caleb ~

so...lets say one day you're buying something completely unrelated, but you double take as your eyes happen to flit over some apple scented lip balm on the store shelf. You pause, nibble on your lip with a faint curl to the corners, and grab it and apply it on the way home. It's good...that apple scent that isnt too artificial or plasticky but also sweet and sharp enough to be noticeable and tasty.

Its hard to keep it in somehow when he gets home? its like a secret, which feels stupid, but he looks at you and raises a suspicious eyebrow.

'why you smilin', pips? what have you done?'

he asks, starting to laugh a bit at your face as you tried to keep it normal. it'll be like after a while where he wrestles you off the stove or something playfully that he'll catch a whiff. i mean he's obviously noticed your lips seem a touch shinier, but didn't think a whole lot of it except 'nice'.

'did you buy new perfume?'

'no...?'

'but...its appley over here, you got one in your ear or somethin'?'

he makes a point of sniffing around you like a dog as your giggling form is pressed back against the counter. then he pauses as his nose nears yours and a cheeky smile stretches across his face. his hand lifts and he runs the back of his fingers ever so softly over your bottom lip, his eyes following the movement.

'ah, bullseye. so this is what you were giggling about earlier, you're so silly pipsqueak,'

'what? why?!'

'who gets all giggly about lip balm hm?'

he tilts his head, still in teasy puppy mode, though his eyes have softened and darkened as his face has come closer. as you pout he pokes your lips again with a smirk.

'mmh, an apple flavoured pout huh?'

he leans in achingly slowly to kiss you.

Weirdly specific headcanons about the lads boys and your scrunchie

[carawenfiction]

So...remember how I said in that update post how I might MAYBE do a TSS rewrite and post it for free?

"Maybe" quickly turned into "definitely happening". Instead of making it outside of COG, however, the finished product that's already published will be updated with the rewritten files. This means that if you've already purchased TSS through COG, you'll have the rewritten version available. That's how I originally intended to go about things with the old rewrite and is the better option here to avoid potential complications.

I've been in contact with COG and they've let me know that I'd be able to do what I have in mind even if this results in a different wordcount and very different scenes/plot points and a different kind of main story.

I realize that this announcement is probably pretty jarring since my last post stated that I wasn't sure about doing a rewrite but that I wanted to if I had enough time. After making that post, I started creating an outline for the rewrite mostly for fun...and one thing kind of led to another. I want you all to know that I wouldn't be making this post at all if I wasn't sure about this. It's because I've already begun the process and feel incredibly motivated and inspired that I can do this that I'm making this announcement.

This rewrite is not going to be like my old attempt at a rewrite, though. It's an entirely new one that I feel much more confident about.

So far I've written the outline for the rewrite and started reworking already existing scenes from chapter 1 as well some new ones. I'm happy to say that the difference between how the rewrite process felt years ago compared to now is like light and day. It seems like those years I've taken away from TSS were very healthy and helpful in giving me some distance and letting me figure out what kind of story I really want to tell.

My plan is to rewrite book 1 and then make 1 full continuation after that. Instead of a trilogy, it looks like this version of TSS will be 2 volumes, but that doesn't necessarily mean that it'll be shorter than originally intended. I think it's more doable for me to rewrite the first book (starting from scratch while also using some already written scenes, since I've been assured I'm allowed to do so) and then make 1 complete continuation of it rather than trying to fill stuff out over 3 different entries, and I think it'll serve the plot and story as a whole to do it that way.

That being said, I fully understand that some - or most of you - might have trouble trusting my word after me failing to do the rewrite I wanted to years ago and not delivering a second book. That's completely fair. This time I'm not rushing things and I don't feel any pressure to do this. It's not something I do out of dislike for the original, but rather out of love for what it could be and what I could make it into, if that makes sense. I'm taking as much time as I need to and am not putting any pressure on myself to do this.

My other project takes priority right now so I can't dedicate all of my time to the rewrite, but I'm working on it when I have time over or get stuck. It's actually pretty nice to alternate between two different stories that have different settings and has helped a bit in avoiding writer's block.

Here are some differences between TSS and the TSS rewrite (most of the changes I made to the old rewrite no longer apply):

The rewrite will be told in second-person point of view ("you" instead of "I"). The reason for this is that when I first started TSS I was really unused to the second-person POV, but after having spent years in the IF space it's now the other way around. It'll make writing much easier for for me, and I hope it won't feel too jarring for people who are used to the first person POV.

The Shadowman and Jealene (now "J") will both be genderselectable just like the main cast. The Shadowman will be genderselectable later on, though - it might sound strange but I think it makes sense when you have more context. J plays a bigger role than they did in the original and their personality is a bit different in this version.

Some side characters (such as most of the hideout) will be cut. This is because they felt really underdeveloped to me in the full game and didn't serve much of a purpose. Instead I'm focusing more on the main cast + a few key characters to ensure the story plot stays focused and you get more time to develop bonds of various kinds with the main cast instead.

The relationship system will look a bit different. Instead of bars showing a percentage of approval, I'll write a description of each character and what they think of you. The descriptions will shift when the character starts viewing you differently, whether that's due to rivalry, romance or friendship. My hope is that this will allow for a more nuanced relationship system/descriptions. I'll also adjust the options a bit to try and make choices more nuanced and am thinking of including the option of having ex. a heart next to a romantic choice for those who want to know for sure what they're getting into. The different responses (such as shy, flirty etc.) will stay but some of it will probably be reworked. Essentially what I want to do is allow for a wider range of MCs and how the characters respond to the MC.

The MC is going to have more agency in certain ways. I've included something plot-relevant to the main character that can potentially change the dynamic between them and the group a bit, but it all depends on how you play it.

The tone might be somewhat different. Not entirely, of course, but there are some parts of the old TSS where the characters sound a bit younger than they are supposed to be, where tension and seriousness has been sacrificed in favor of humor and where some of the interactions aren't the way I would prefer for them to be. I've gotten older since writing TSS (gasp) and my tastes have changed, as has my writing to some degree. In order to do a rewrite I'd have to write in a way that's most enjoyable for me and that I feel best fits the story I want to tell. That's not to say that there isn't going to be silliness etc., but I'm adjusting the tone somewhat and putting more time and effort into descriptions and the writing overall.

The narrative will be different, even though the overall story itself will mostly stay the same. I'm keeping a lot of elements and also aim to introduce new ones that I believe will strengthen the story and make it a more enjoyable game overall.

I think those are the main differences I can give away right now without spoiling anything. I'll make sure to post updates when I've got more to share! Once the demo for the rewrite is finished, I'll post it on the forums and link it in an intro post on here.

Thank you all for sticking by me throughout the years. I hope you'll find some comfort in returning to this world, as well as new things to ponder and excite you in this new upcoming version of the story <3

The Azuridia and Quaiel chibis are done by the amazing madebysalfi

[just4jinx]

# cw ! fem!reader. sub!jinx. dom!reader. established relationship. phone sex/masturbation. dirty talk. jinx just really loves ur voice lol. rushed with absolutely no substance i just wanted to get smthing out <3

her name flashes across your screen, the sharp trill of your ringtone breaking the stillness of the night. it’s 1 am, too late for casual calls. you’re seeing her later, planning to take her out for a few drinks at her favorite bar, so what couldn’t wait?

still, you don’t hesitate. you never do. with a quiet sigh, you accept the call, pressing the phone to your ear.

“jinx?”

no answer. just a breath—slow, heavy. then the faint scrape of her clearing her throat, the static of hesitation crackling between you. you shift, the sheets rustling beneath you as you settle in. “you okay?” your voice is soft and careful. jinx is a lot of things—loud, often reckless and impossible to pin down— but quiet isn’t usually one of them.

another breath, deep and shaky, rushes down the line. “yeah.” she says, but it’s a little too quick, too rehearsed. you dont push, instead you let the silence stretch, giving her space to fill it and perhaps give you a better idea.

“just missed ya.” she mutters, “wanted to hear your voice.” a slight innocent grin tugs at the corners of your lips, your free hand trailing up to sleepily rub your eyes. you imagine she woke up from a nightmare and was implicitly asking for comfort, or just hasn’t managed to sleep at all. regardless, you have all the time in the world for your girlfriend.

“so, how’d your day go, baby?” for a second, you swear you hear a faint sigh but you let it pass, throwing your head back against the pillow, staring at the ceiling as you wait. “good.” that’s all she gives you. she doesn’t sound upset, so why she’s being blunt is beyond you. before you can linger on it, jinx speaks again. “please tell me about yours.”

there’s a weight to it, a quiet plea tangled within her words. she’s hiding something, you can feel it. it’s clearly not what she says that makes your chest tighten—it’s the way she says it. low and drawn out, as though she’s clinging on to the sound of your voice and every syllable that spills from your lips. she’s desperate for you to fill the silence with anything. anything at all.

“well, you know, work and all that. it went fine but… i really missed you.” the words barely leave your lips before a sound filters through the receiver. a whimper, raw and unguarded, before everything on the other end of the line goes silent. it’s the kind of silence that hums in your ears. and then it clicks. suddenly it all makes sense.

“it’s okay,” you say, voice low and soothing, “let me hear you.” you can hear jinx’s mattress creak beneath her weight, her sheets rustling as she adjusts herself. your mind starts to wander, picturing her laying back all pretty with her fingers stuffed inside her aching cunt. or maybe she’s just giving her clit the right attention. you wonder what she’s wearing—if anything at all.

"mm, i'm sorry." jinx manages to say, a whine holding in her voice. she's always been a needy thing, always begging to be filled up, constantly desperate to get off—even if that means rocking her hips against anything she can get her hands on. your personal fave is when she's sliding her slick folds across your thigh with her face buried in the crook of your neck, mindlessly babbling about how good she feels and how much she loves you.

"tell me what you're doing." you demand, your voice unwavering.

"just... touchin' myself." you don’t say a word. you don’t have to. the silence alone is enough. jinx shifts, restless. she knows that wasn’t good enough. her breath catches in her throat, a couple soft moans escaping her. "just using my fingers. rubbing- ha, fuck.." you find it adorable how she's struggling, just wishing you were there to see her in person, to touch her, to make her cry from pleasure.

"so desperate. you couldn't wait until later?" jinx's wetness was not only coating her fingers but her inner thighs too, strings of whimpers and needy moans sending heat directly to your core. "i bet you're already thinking about it—having me all to yourself, cumming over my fingers or even in my mouth. god, you taste so sweet, you know that?"

another whine. higher this time, like she’s forcing it past her lips just to give you something. as though words are too much, too heavy, tangled somewhere in her throat. you could hear her pick up the pace and the obscene sounds that came from both her lips and her soaked pussy, a deep but shaky sigh escaping you before you could get the chance to stop it.

"nggff— want you so bad, please!" jinx cries out before a guttural moan echoes through the line. she's clenching over nothing now, practically squirming on her bed, desperately chasing her inevitable climax. "gonna, hah— baby, i’m—“

you dont even get the chance to encourage her to let go, a loud, strained whine rushing down the line and filling your ear. your name leaves her lips countless times, almost chanting it, choking out sweet moans that cause your heart to thump inside your chest. of course you tell her how well she’s doing, how much of a good girl she is, and how beautiful she sounds just for you.

you notice the sound of sheets rustling as jinx adjusts, slow and lethargic, as though she can barely lift herself. a whisper spills from her lips, but not because she’s trying to stay quiet, more like she doesnt have the strength for anything louder. “i love you so much.” its sudden but nothing unexpected, her voice shakily slipping through the receiver like she has her pretty lips pressed right against it.

there it is again, the creek of the mattress, jinx curling into herself with a deep exhale. a soft laugh follows, breathy, almost dazed, lightheaded from it all. you’re certain you can picture it—her flushed cheeks, unfocused pink eyes, the way she bites her lip like she's still lost in the moment. you tell her you love her back, a pleased hum reaching you from the other end of the line.

the silence that follows isn't empty; it's comfortable. both of you sink deeper into your pillows, letting the quiet settle, letting it hold you in a gentle embrace. but jinx isn't done listening. she's still tuned into you—your slow, steady breaths, the quiet rhythm of your existence. and without giving it a thought, she falls in sync, matching each inhale then exhale, like it's the only way to keep herself grounded. she doesn't say another word, doesn't need to. she just breathes with you, lets you guide her until the pull of sleep finally wins for you both.

[killishin]

— ♡ right person at the right time.

PART 02.

pairing: jason todd x reader

category: lots of fluff, angst, he fell first she fell harder kinda trope, sfw, thinking of making this a slow burn but we'll see.

content warning: afab, mention of death (reader's mother), violence here and there, blood.

summary: reader's just a normal citizen of Gotham, scrambling to making ends meet. after a fateful encounter, when he saw the reader kick ass and save a life- he can't get them off his mind. and fate just keeps pulling them together forcing him to do something about it.

a/n: right now i wanna make this as sweet and lighthearted as possible, but i have a soft side for angst :) updates can become slow since my exams are coming up.

wc: 4.8k

masterlist. fic masterlist. previous. next.

dividers by @cafekitsune

"you've gotta be kidding me.." jason muttered under his breath as he looked at you, infront of the counter, desperately finding your purse because your card just declined.

normally he didn't really come to cafés, he'd much rather either sleep in or anything but places that involved people. jason wouldn't admit it, not even to himself, but he hates the way he towers over people. being red hood, its advantageous, helps get shit done without even lifting a finger— thats where intimidation helps. there he's proud to be built like this. but as just jason, he sees the apprehensive looks, the judgy middle aged aunties suspicious looks all because he's a big guy who looks rough around the edges. it irks him truly, his body subconsciously tries to shrink as if that would do much.

unfortunately, dick was in a mood for brotherly bonding, as he worded it, and somehow getting a coffee together is bonding. and to make matters worse (or better?) he sees you, someone he has just spent weeks scrubbing off his mind. he succeeded too! (barely), yet now its down the drain as his eyes stayed glued to you while his hand twitched— to do something. save you this time, not from danger but he has a feeling embarrassment is somehow worse for you than almost getting shot.

dick comes back from the washroom, his brows furrowed as he looks at you at the counter, "i can just sense the embarrassment—" and then he pauses because what the hell is his brother doing?

jason steps forward, passing the annoyed people glaring daggers at you and gave the staff a nod, "I'll pay for her." he said politely, handing her the card. he was really trying his goddamn best not to look at you.

you stopped and raised your head to look at your saviour but realised that maybe the kind man was actually irritated enough that he'd rather pay for you than wait. horror and embarrassment seeped in as you took back your card from the staff.

"i am so so sorry for the hold up i caused— i- i honestly don't know why this was—" you begin to hurriedly apologise and he waves a hand, giving a smile that he hopes is at least polite.

"its alright. you don't need to apologise."

"no its not. do you come here often?" you requested and his eyes widened, tip of the ears going red as his brain practically shut down.

"oh wait no—" your eyes widened in horror as you shook your head, "no i meant– to pay you back. i would like to buy you a coffee someday as a payback." you explained, your hands becoming more animated.

upon realisation, his heart slowed down and he huffed out a chuckle, shaking his head slightly. "no that's not necessary." but then he paused as he observed you with a small amused smile, "but i don't think you're going to back down so okay."

that pulls out a sheepish smile from you, " so uh when are you free? next weekend uh..?" you asked politely, taking your coffee and immediately step out of the line, trying your best to ignore the loud sighs.

he doesn't what he's feeling. this wasn't how it was supposed to be. he was set on forgetting you— and he almost did, yet now here he is, planning a date.

no its not a date wtf—

"jason." he replied, "and im sorry but i really don't know if I'd be free on the weekend." he can't say why of course, he could have just lied and then ghosted you. that would have been for the best... yet he's aiming for something else.

"oh." your smile fell a bit before you looked up at him again, "is it alright to exchange numbers then? you could text me when you're free." you suggested and hoped he doesn't see you as a creep.

...that's exactly what he was aiming for.

"you really don't need to pay me back but.." he huffs out a smile as he scratches the back of his head, "i guess you won't take that as an answer so gimme your phone."

you take that time to really look at the stranger, he's really tall and built like a truck. you supposed most men in that size were intimidating as fuck but this man is anything but. you would swoon over him, you are, but its practically overshadowed by the persistent embarrassment.

he looked back up at you as he handed you your phone back and you quickly averted your eyes down at your phone. "jason." you murmured before looking up at him, smiling warmly, "thanks a lot jason, i'll hope to pay you back for the coffee soon, i promise."

"no rush, its okay. I'll text you when im free for that coffee." he nodded back at you and stared at your back as you found the literal corner of the cafe. you were going to stay but you were also too tired to leave just yet— so you shrunk yourself as much as you could, opening your laptop while sipping on your coffee. you could feel the stares— even his for that matter, but it wasn't as heavy and uncomfortable as others. like the show's over guys mind your own buisness?

you pushed the feel of discomfort out of you and focused on something better— good. bluish green. his eyes were kinda green, kinda blue you couldn't really see well, not only was he very tall but you were far too embarrassed to look at that handsome gentleman's eyes. but even the slightest glimpse of it stuck to the very nerves of your brain.

and so when you steeled yourself, taking a deep breath and encouraging yourself through yet another potential embarrassment, you stole a glance at him. right as you did, he quickly averted his gaze— his whole head actually as he started walking back to his spot.

you quickly looked back too, missing the way his jaw clenched— hands twitched, clenching and unclenching.

when he came back in line to stand beside dick he rolled his eyes, biting back a groan, "don't even—"

"its alright. you don't need to apologise." dick immediately mimicked with a cheshire smile, poking Jason's side while the other glared back at him. "i was just helping. thats all."

"yeah right." he scoffed, rolling his eyes, "sure you were. cus you're such a gentleman."

"no she was holding the line. and i need to get this stupid bonding time over with— thats why i helped." jason retorted defensively causing dick to gasp, feigning offense.

"did you just call our time stupid?!"

"i am never hanging out with you."

"heartbreak!"

"i am gonna strangle you—"

"hey pa." you said softly, the dim light of your monitor illuminating the paper cup that is in your hand, the one you're staring at. it wasn't the same from that day of course, but now whenever you buy coffee from a cafe your mind can't help but go back to him.

you were doing a personal project currently, amp up your skills but mostly to have fun. animating has been something your dad introduced you to when you were just a teen, and you turned into your livelihood.

"how's everything going? are you doing okay at work?" your dad asked, your lips twitching in amusement as you could sense the concern raging in his mind.

"its good dad. im doing fine." your thumb rubs at the seam of the cup, your mind partially elsewhere, the stranger— jason, to be specific.

"you're lying aren't you?" your dad sighed, "are you struggling with expenses? i can help you know— if you're forcing yourself in that job all because of the expenses—"

"calm down dad." you laugh quietly as you gently throw the cup in the bin beside your table, and then looking at your monitor, eyeing your current project. "its honestly not that bad. anyways, how's alyssa?"

"since when do you care about her?" your father snorted, his voice suddenly quiet and hushed, didn't want the missus hearing any of that.

"i was just being nice!" you scoffed out, but he is right, you were just making small talk. "she's alright. less moody and smiles more, so definitely better." he paused, as if debating, "we went on a date yesterday."

your father was an introvert like you, or well you got it from him maybe. he's always preferred to stay indoors, your mother was the wild one. she respected dad's boundaries but with her, your dad didn't mind going out of his comfort zone.

so you're glad he's becoming the old him again, even if its with alyssa.

your eyes lit up a bit, even though alyssa's the cause, you like that little giddiness in his voice. "that's wonderful! where'd you go?"

"nothing just exploring the town. oh yes! we went into a bar and danced a bit—"

"you danced?!"

"yeah why don't you shout and tell your neighbours too while you're at it?" your dad scolded you sarcastically and you grinned while you did your work.

"..yeah we did." he sighed and you could hear the smile on his face, "i wish you were here, to see that side of her. you would like her i know."

"hm its okay. you like her, that's enough." you doubt you'd ever like her as much your dad wanted you to but he doesn't need to know that.

after talking for a while you hung up and yawned as you leaned back in your squeaking chair, causing you to grimace.

your stared mindlessly at the screen before flashes of his face came to your mind. you smiled to yourself as you thought back to that encounter, you still don't go to that cafe. it was your favourite one and it kills you that you can't go– but you still feel self conscious whenever you go there or at least try to.

you had tried finding that man on socials, thinking he'd have a hell ton of following if he does indeed post. but came up with nothing, and you just assumed he didn't use much social. you had thought about texting him but it felt rather awkward to, since its been almost a week he hasn't responded to your 'hi', assuming he forgot about it or well, ignored it.

but really, what would you even say? your confidence isn't that high either that you could maybe 'rizz' him through texts, so to your dismay, you left it at that. just a memory that shows humanity ain't dead yet.

you got up while scratching your stomach, you should be sleeping but its a weekend and unfortunately for your body, you're yet to care about your messed up sleep schedule.

entering your kitchen you open your fridge, not bothering to switch on the lights. you rummage through a bit, fridge, cabinets— before simply settling on some noodles.

you took out a saucepan, about to switch on the light—

THUMP!

your body froze, blood running cold. that definitely came from your balcony. you know it did. sweat immediately formed on your forehead as you gripped the handle of the saucepan. there's no mistaking it— you're not gonna be one of the dumb ones from those horror movies. you keep your body absolutely steady and still as you take out a kitchen knife slowly, slowly—

"ugh— CLANK!"

that is definitely someone in your balcony. you almost let out a whimper, biting your lips hard. you start praying internally as you hold back tears. with a silent, deep breath you slowly turn around and flinch when you see the silhouette of someone. you still can't make it out accurately, you don't quite have a proper line of sight of your balcony but its closer to you than your room is, un-fucking-fortunately.

you slowly inch out of your kitchen, knife in one hand and saucepan in another. you almost felt like rapunzel and you would have laughed at yourself had it not been a really dire situation. because chances are, whoever that is, definitely isn't your flynn rider.

your hands were clammy, sweating furiously as you start to slowly inch to your room. you just need to get in, get your phone and call the police and hope for once the GCPD is on time.

but then you pause—

"fuck... she.. not hear me."

you know that modulated voice. your memory isn't exactly the best, which is concerning because you aren't old and senile yet, but you know that voice. it hasn't exactly been that long since you saved that girl and met red hood— you could never forget that voice.

and curiosity gets the better of you as your legs change trajectory, inching to the balcony instead of your room. the sliding door to your balcony was partially ajar and you cursed at your lack of self preservation.

his voice was coming out in huffs and sighs, little grunts and broken words— he sounded almost pained.

as you finally reached the edge, you risked a peak but flinched back when you heard shuffling, eyeing the shadow of him trying to get up. you were half sure— but you could never be too cautious, if its not him, you could be in a shit load of trouble.

it was getting increasingly hard to hold your breath, the shaky breath you took that sounded like wild winds to your ears.

finally, you gripped the knife and pan hard, preparing yourself for the now or never moment. you swung your pan and lifted your knife as your battle cry (which really just sounded like a dying cry) tore through the silence. you squeezed your eyes shut as you got but a glimpse of the huge man and just, attacked. swung like your life depended on it.

"wha— HEY! WOAH— fuck you almost stabbed me in the eye!" he gasped out, his hands wrapping around your wrists staring at the pan and the knife.

"huh—" you peaked your eyes opened, and there under the moonlight that illuminated him barely enough, you recognised that red helmet. your body immediately relaxed as you let out a heavy sigh. "thank god its not some thief." the pan and knife in your hands went lax and he almost flinched.

a mere citizen with a pan and a knife scared the crap outta red hood. the things that would do to his reputation if it got out.

but what really confused him is how you...relaxed. it was understandable when you weren't affected by his intimidating presence back in the alley, since you were clearly in a state of panic. but even now, it almost feels like you know him, the way your body relaxes like it trusts the vigilante.

he doesn't know what it is but it heals something in his scarred heart.

"what— what are you even doing in my balcony?" she questioned as her brows furrowed again, "so much for not stalking huh?"

and as if on cue his body snapped out of the trance you pulled him in, he winced when he felt that sharp ache on his sides. things always go sideways, but sometimes it goes a little too sideways. his body cowered a bit and your eyes followed down, brows furrowed in confusion as you try to discern anything in the darkness, and why he's pressing his hand on his side.

"sorry about this— I'll leave—"

"wait is that blood?" you whispered quietly, gulping down a gasp as your fingers brushed against the dark red liquid that was partially dried up on his side. "oh god you are bleeding."

"easy." he hissed as your fingers pressed a little too firm on the wound, his hand shooting out to grab yours, slowly pulling it away.

"oops." you muttered awkwardly as you took your hand out of his grip and took a step back to properly assess the wound, "you're really bleeding. that's a lot of blood."

"oh is that right?" he scoffed as he leaned against the railing, supporting his weight on the arm, "thanks i didn't even know." he exclaimed sarcastically and looked around. he really needed to leave, he was sure you were beginning to see him as a creep.

you sighed and stopped yourself from giving him a deadpanned stare before stepping back inside your apartment, sliding the door away for him to enter. he paused and you saw his head tilting down before looking back at you, as if he cannot comprehend what you're suggesting.

"what?"

"what 'what'? you're bleeding on my balcony!" you waved him in, holding both the knife and pan in your hand, "I'll at least fix that up. im no nurse but i do know the basic."

"oh no no i can manage just fine." he waved you off and turned around making you click your tongue in exasperation. you beat the knife against the back of the pan, making a loud CLANG! sound, and he flinched before turning around.

"you look less like red hood and more like a senile man with a spine problem and a red tin bucket stuck on his head. come in." you said, or rather scolded, pointing towards your couch with the knife.

he is red hood. he has seen enough bloodshed, a shit ton of guns and their types, knives, daggers— you name it. and yet the sight of you holding a kitchen knife, yes, for some reason that straightened him up.

"look you really don't need to—"

"i am not pitying you okay? i am just—" you paused as you exhaled in frustration, pushing your hair back with the back of your hand, "just think of it as returning a favour okay? you helped me back then. saved me from a shit ton of panic and wrong decisions— and from the gcpd. so let me help you back."

he stood there for a moment, staring at you in contemplation. he clenched his jaw and cursed his past self for even entertaining you that time, for staying long enough to get 'intrigued'. he knows he shouldn't step in, shouldn't let you help. you are a normal person, with a normal life and nothing ever good comes out from associating with a vigilante— especially the red hood. he wants to berate you for not being rational enough but he cannot, for he is quite the same at the moment. he knows the right decision but the devil on his shoulder murmurs, weakening his resolve.

besides, he really is hurt.

"and I'll also forget that you practically stalked me." you added, your lips twitching in slight amusement.

finally, releasing a heavy sigh he stepped in, dragged his feet inside and plopped down of the couch. "i did not stalk you. don't flatter yourself." he immediately felt bad though in case he got blood on the couch.

you smiled to yourself before hurrying to the cabinet in your bathroom.

he looked out of place in your apartment, it was cozy and though it looked worn down in a lot of places. it looked homely. a certain warmth in it that eased him slightly. he looked to your direction before down at his wound.

seriously why did he even come here? he was on the run and automatically his legs carried him in this direction before remembering you lived close. and he took shelter. he's never this idiotic and he could practically hear bruce berating him for yet another wrong decision. dragging a normal person in his life.

"okay— shit that is really a lot of blood." you murmured as you switched on the light, kit in your hands while the pan and knife rested on the coffee table.

you sat beside him, damp cloth in hand to clean the blood off him first. you held the cloth and turned to him, for a moment just stared at him, unsure of how to tell him to lift up his clothes which was pretty layered you could tell.

"what?" he grunted as his eyes narrowed at your awkward staring and you pointed down at abdomen, "uh— lift that up. please?"

now that things are a bit calm, you're starting to really process things. gauge the situation, which is ridiculous. you literally have the red hood bleeding on your couch, and under the warmth of your light, your rather normal yet homey apartment did nothing to ward off the intimidating aura that surrounded him. your apartment feels small because of him. you don't even know how you noticed none of that when you first met him. it doesn't deter you, no its too late for that, but it certainly adds that need to be cautious around him— it makes you suddenly conscious about your actions.

he notices the slight change in demeanor, the stiffening of limbs, stolen glances that really looked like they were trying to analyse how much of a threat he is. he is used to this kind of looks, the apprehension and a part of him is glad that you finally have some sense of preservation to be wary of a literal stranger/ vigilante in your home.... but another part maybe had hoped that you wouldn't be.

he had hoped that you wouldn't see him as the 'thug of a vigilante' like everyone does, he doesn't know why. he just met you, and yet he had developed expectations of you.

he bit the inside of his cheek, glad his helmet could conceal the irritated scowl on his face before he slowly peeled off his shirt and vest to reveal the cut. it was deep— would need stitches.

but besides the cut, and you feel very guilty for thinking this when he's hurt, but he is chiseled like a greek god. toned muscles and abs, a sliver of skin and it already has you wanting to trace them. out of appreciation, of course.

"that would need stitches I think." you remarked quietly, looking a bit green and he lets out a snort. "told you you shouldn't."

you sighed before you began slowly dabbing at the area around the wound, cleaning the blood and small debris off. "i can at least just— bandage it. you can get it stitched later. im sure you have someone to do it."

the sight of blood does nauseate you a bit, your brows and lips a bit furrowed as you focused on getting it cleaned as fast as possible.

"i knew how to do them once." you began, biting your lips often while concentrating, "my mother taught me that. but now im so out of practice i dont wanna make it worse." you murmured and he stared down at you in thought.

"you do know you don't actually owe me shit? i mean you did the heavy work in that alley." he said quietly and for a moment it felt as if that modulated voice carried more emotion than it should, "you didn't need to do this."

he sounded guarded, grumpy even. you chuckled under your breath before shaking your head, "i do actually. if you didn't come there i don't know what i would have done. if i simply ran from there the paranoia would have eaten me alive. but knowing i left it with you, a vigilante who knows what to do, i was at ease. less shaken."

you look up and smirk, "and if that still sounds bullshit to you then consider this an act of goodwill from a friend." you moved away to dip the cloth again in water.

"oh we're friends now?" he scoffed out, actually surprised you'd say that. you scrunched your nose as you pretended to be confused, "i mean we had a pretty good conversation. that has to count." you retorted amusingly, totally not serious.

"a conversation where you were panicking about the guy you knocked out." he pointed out and the mirth in his voice amplified enough to annoy you, "not to mention hurling blames on innocent me."

you paused and scoffed, looking up at him a defensively, "i was not in the right mind alright? and you were late." you scowled and began dabbing away a little too quickly. "i was nice later on."

he resisted the urge to laugh, you were still stuck on that. "oh and by the way—" he paused to adjust himself on the couch, leaning back, "i am not stalking you."

your eyes lit up for a moment, as if glad he reminded you that, "oh so you just happened to stumble on my humble abode hm?" you narrowed your eyes at him, "red, if you found me hot you coulda just said that." you murmured smugly, lips pulled into a cheeky smile as you moved away, fetching the ointments to apply.

he scoffed at that, scoffing way too loud to maybe drown out the way his heart drummed when you smiled like that. "trust me, if i found you hot you'd know." he said sarcastically and you gave him a mock stink eye before applying the ointment.

if only you knew that he did find you hot. very hot.

"your apartment happened to lie on my way." he added with a shrug, his muscles tensing and contracting when the ointment stings the open wound. you do your best to not stare at anywhere else but the wound, really you are trying your best.

"of course and your legs just happened to fall on my balcony hm?" you murmured teasingly as you covered it up with a bandage.

"...yes it did." he replied quietly and curtly, and you just hummed a smile before standing up. "so that's done. let me clean up I'll get you a glass of water." you said as you began picking up the bowl and cloth. "you want to eat something? the blood loss might have made you a bit woozy."

you pause. he paused. you just know he's giving you the most blank deadpanned stare under that mask.

"you do know i have a—"

"yeah i know i know— i just forgot about the helmet." you grumbled quietly in embarrassment before walking away.

he watches you walk back and forth between the bathroom, washing your hands and rearranging the things back. he notices you're meticulate. he sweeps his gaze around the apartment, nothing is amiss, everything in its place as it should be except a few strays lying around. another observation down his mental diary about you, you're organised. mostly.

and then he remembers the interesting set of weapons you had and he lets out a snort which gets your attention as you were walking to the kitchen. "what?"

he's peeling his clothes back down when he shakes his head in response. "nothing."

"tch— what, red?"

"....a pan."

you groaned quietly as you rushed into the kitchen, "were you seriously gonna pull a rapunzel on me?" he called out sarcastically making you let out a involuntary laugh.

"no i just—" you pause as you laugh, drinking from the glass while you stayed standing, "i was about to make some noodles. and then i heard that loud thump sound so i just— i had it in hand!" you explained haphazardly as you rolled your eyes.

"still. a pan?"

"its better than nothing— oh quit it." you rolled your eyes as you put the glass down before you crossed your arms, raising a brow at him.

"how the hell are you gonna leave though? the front door?" he got up with a slight wince as he head back to the balcony.

"wait you're seriously gonna parkour back to your house? the bandage might open up!" you gawked at him as you followed behind, "so much effort and all down the drain."

"so that's what you're worried bout huh?" he scoffed sarcastically as he turned to looked down at you and you shrugged, "i mean im proud of my work. i don't wanna see it get ruined."

"you're heartless."

"i'll take that as a compliment."

you heard a muffled laugh coming from him, your eyes lingering on him for a few moments as your hands fidgeted with each other behind your back.

"uh take care!" you called out suddenly, worried about the vigilante maybe, while he fought to keep his heart from getting ahead of itself.

"don't worry this will be the last time i bother you."

"just don't get hurt, red."

"....."

"....."

"last time, huh?"

two weeks later, and you found red in your balcony again, this time with another wound in the opposite side, just as deep as last time. it makes you wonder if the vigilante has really come to trust you, even just a shred, to come to you when he's hurt. it warms your heart.

"i was gonna sing rapunzel let down your hair—"

"i will push you off my balcony."

reblogs are appreciated! :D

[robinminustherichard]

Clearly the solution is to get Tommy and Buck somewhere where Tommy can't run...

BuckTommy fix it with the help of dispatch & Lucy Donato.

"This is Donato."

"Firefighter Donato, this is 9-1-1 Dispatcher Josh Russo with Maddie Han. You are on shift at Harbor Station currently, correct?"

"Uh....yes? Do you--why are you calling my cellphone? What's happening?"

"Firefighter Donato there is an incoming party to Harbor Station that needs to be taken to a specific location with a member of your station."

"What?"

"Lucy...Buck is on his way to Harbor to win Tommy back, and you and I both know it's not going to go well unless Tommy can't run this time. I need you to get Buck and Tommy into a room with a lock and use said lock." A woman's voice, Maddie, cuts in.

Lucy blinks before looking at Tommy where he's staring blankly at a mug of coffee and has sighed no less than ten times in the last hour. She slowly swings a leg around and walks away from Tommy.

"Yeah okay, dispatch. I can do that. In fact, I am honored to help with this...special task."

"Great. You've got an estimated five-to-seven minutes until arrival."

Lucy eyes the supply closet that has a faulty lock on it, the one where you have to be careful not to let the door close behind you.

"On it. I'll uh. Update you accordingly."

"Thank you, Donato. God speed."

Lucy hangs up and slips into the closet, eying the wooden shelves on the wall. Taking a moment to realize how insane this is, she grabs a shelf and yanks it--allowing it and all of the cleaning supplies to come tumbling down.

"Ah, fuck!" She yells, to really sell it. She hears footsteps approaching.

"Donato? You alright?" Tommy calls, appearing around the door and looking at her and then the mess on the floor.

"Damn shelf came down." Lucy says, throwing her hands up. "Help me get it back on the wall?"

"Yeah," Tommy says, assessing the brackets and nodding. I'll go grab the drill and some screws, probably just some issues with the old mounting hardware."

Tommy disappears momentarily and Lucy pops her head out to look out through the hanger doors and sees Buckley pull up. Luckily, he seems to stay in the truck long enough for Tommy to come back and start fiddling with the drill.

"That's so weird that it just came down. What were you do--" Tommy starts, but cuts off when Lucy darts out of the door and closes it firmly behind her. "What-Donato? What are you doing?!"

"Everything will make sense soon!" She calls, and then jogs to where she sees Buckley making his way inside. "Buckley!"

Buck seems surprised to see her, distracted and looking around. "Uh, Lucy, hey! H-how are you?"

"Oh, you don't care about that," Lucy says, grabbing his arm and dragging him behind her towards the closet, "You're here to see Kinard right? Right. This way."

"Uh, well, yes but--" he tries to say, but Lucy is determined. They make it to the closet and Luck holds Buckely's wrist in one hand and the door knob in the other.

"Great! He's in here." She says, ripping open the door to a furious and then surprised Tommy, who let's out a strangled "Evan!-" when he sees him. "You two should chat. And not leave this closet until you do. I have instructions from the city to ensure it happens."

Lucy turns and shoves Buckley into the closet, his momentum sending him straight into Tommy with an oof.

"Donato, wait--" Tommy says, trying to steady Buckley and make it to the door at the same time.

"Sorry Kinard! Orders from dispatch."

"That's doesn't make any sense!"

"Uh, h-hi Tommy." Buckley's voice cuts through, and it gives Tommy pause.

"Hi, Evan."

"Can we, can we talk? Please?"

"Well," Tommy says, classic bitchy tone in full force, "I don't think I have a choice."

Buckley laughs, and Lucy's eyebrows raise. If anyone can handle Kinard when he's like that, they definitely belong together.

Lucy wiggles the door knob to make sure it's locked before calling back to dispatch.

"Hello, this is firefighter Lucy Donato, I need to speak with Dispatcher Josh Russo..."

[sandwitchstories]

She's Not Wrong

Hi everyone!! Just sharing a little drabble I've had taking up space in my brain for days now! I hope this little exchange gives you a laugh, I know it made me giggle as I wrote it! Kudos and comments are always appreciated!

For more adventures with Mouse and Sukuna, check out my Daddy Duty Series on my AO3 - Here! )

If you prefer to read on AO3 please click here !

Summary: Mouse is struggling with the adjustment to being a big sister and having a baby in the house. It's day two with two kids and Mouse has some suggestions of how to handle a crying baby.

WC: 800+

CW: Reader referred to as Mama but not described, new siblings, breast feeding, Boob humor, Dad!sukuna, dilf sukuna, family fluff, SFW, toddler dad Sukuna, girl dad!sukuna, boy dad!sukuna, true form Sukuna (4 arms),

“Papa! Put it back! It too loud!” Mouse said loudly as she clapped her hands over her ears.

Sukuna sighed and rolled his eyes. “I cannot put your baby brother back, Mouse.”

“Papa, quick! Eat him!” she said, pointing at the baby wiggling and crying in your arms.

“Mouse, I am not going to eat your brother.” Sukuna gave her an unamused glare. “I mean look at him. He has no fat on him. Meat needs fat to have flavor. Not to mention he’s even more of a runt than you were. He’s not even an appetizer at this point.” 

“Not helping,” you glared at your husband.

“Then sell him.” She said with a look of agony on her face.

“Not happening.” It was only day two with the new baby and already Sukuna was wondering if you should have decided to be one and done.

“Mouse,” you said her name, getting her attention as you tried to soothe the baby. “I know he’s loud-”

“And very stinky!” Mouse said, pinching her nose from where she sat perched on her father’s leg. She added a dramatic fanning of the air in front of her face.

“But he is just a baby. It’s only his second day on earth. Crying is the only way he can talk to us,” you tried to explain in a tired tone. 

Tired did not describe it. You were beyond exhausted. Your son, nicknamed Monkey yesterday by the same sister who wanted him annexed today, was fighting going down for a nap. 

You didn’t remember being this exhausted the first time around. Then again, Mouse had been easier to soothe and you hadn’t been simultaneously trying to wrangle and soothe a toddler who was used to having you and her father completely to herself.

Mouse pressed her lips together, a look of concentration coming over her face. She hummed in a tone you had never heard her make before as she stared down the baby still making noise in your arms. You took in her antics, trying to figure out what she was trying to do.

Sukuna arched his eyebrow at his little imp. “What are you doing, brat?”

“Shh, please and thank you, Papa. I tryin’ to understand him,” she said, leaning forward as far as Sukuna’s hand on her belly would let her go. 

You struggled not to laugh at just how serious her expression was. It warmed your heart that she had gone from trying to oust the baby to trying to understand him in a moment’s time. Maybe there is hope yet. ��“What do you think he is saying?”

Mouse gave a hum before sitting back and looking up at you. “Him still hungry, Mama. Him saying give him a boob, please and thank you, Mama. Just give him a boob and he’ll go night night.” 

Sukuna choked on air, sputtering at her response. He was unable to stop his head from falling back against the headboard and the laughter from falling from his lips. You could almost swear you saw tears in his eyes as he wheezed at her wording. You narrowed your eyes, realizing he was going to be absolutely useless in this situation.

“Mouse, don’t say it like that,” you said, trying not to let your husband’s immature sense of humor rub off on you when you were trying to parent your daughter. Someone needed to act like a grown up but did it have to always be you?

“But… it not wrong, Mama,” she looked very confused. “Him hungry. You milk in you boobs. Him eat from you boobs. Him eats then him sleeps.”

“You are correct. But let's just call it feeding him, okay? No need to mention boobs when talking about eating, okay?” You said, not wanting to make a big deal out of it but also wanting to discourage the use of that phrase, no matter how accurate or amusing it was.

“Speak for yourself,” Sukuna bristled.

You ignored him and cupped Mouse’s cheek before you rearranged the baby and helped him latch. He immediately quieted down, nuzzling into your breast and resting his little hand on your chest. You kissed his head and looked at Mouse to see her giving you a smug look from the lap of her equally smug looking father.

“What’s with you two?” You asked, hand rubbing soothingly on Monkey’s back.

Mouse answered first, “Told you him was hungry.”

“It would seem you were not wrong, little Mouse. And what about you?” You asked your husband after giving Mouse a smile.

“I can’t say mine because it involves saying a word I cannot say with another word,” he smirked shamelessly at you.

Mouse looked from him to you and then decided that since she had translated for her brother, she should also translate for her father. “Mama, him means sayin’ boobs.”

“Thanks Mouse,” you groaned. 

Sukuna grinned and leaned over, kissing your forehead and saying softly, “Well, yet again, she is not wrong!”

[diet-cokesiut]

Stop playing at being a slut. Either show us you’re one or just admit you’re a little vanilla girl wishing you had spice.

listen cunt

i love posting my body on here, i really do. however, it's difficult to want to continue with the amount of harassment i receive daily, whether that's digging up information about me or calling me trashy or unloveable or whatever, and i don't enjoy it.

i do like posting my face too but i can't deny the risk i've created for myself being that i am not sure how comfortable i am with being "known" for my pics on here. if that makes any sense.

so i'd appreciate it if you'd stop bitching about me not doing enough for you and just go watch hardcore porn if you really can't get your dick up at plainly revealing photos of pretty girls anymore. thanks.

[seekingdandelions]

Okay, so, apologies for the mini-essay, but seeing this on my dash opened a forbidden door in my brain:

I was really into Dream SMP while it was ongoing, which meant that I got to witness the absurdity of it all, and its inevitable downfall, in real-time. It went from feeling like friends messing around and playing with a narrative, to mostly consisting of a palpable, deeply existential fear of losing their rapidly growing audience.

The Dream SMP could only ever be as successful as it was during a pandemic, evidenced by the fact that it all fell apart as the world started to open up again.

Some members were talented storytellers, but most… were not as gifted, to put it nicely. But everyone wanted a slice of the pie, which meant confusing, sometimes contradictory, plots where everyone wanted to be the main character, growing animosity between the less celebrated members and the successful ones, and monologuing.

Good lord, the monologuing.

As the individual stories people were trying to tell drew them further away from others, activity on the server dwindled, meaning that if somebody wanted to kickstart a story, they had to go it solo... Which often manifested as at least half an hour of monologuing that was mostly repetition, a sad/concerned tone, and aimless wandering around.

'I'm sad because of this, but I shouldn't be sad because of that, and if they knew I was sad it would make them sad, so I shouldn't be sad, but I am sad', type stuff. And when that was over, the person's chat would be like 'Wow, go off king, Oscar when?', and then the rest of the six-hour VOD would be mining, it was WILD.

I think the point where I realised that the Dream SMP had gotten irreparably bad was when they did an armageddon, doomsday event. The hub point of the world got absolutely nuked, which led to everyone crawling to separate corners of the Minecraft server which... isn't ideal for improv, as you might imagine.

But the absolute worst part of that event was that at least three different people decided to have a "villain arc" independently, at the exact same time (because the villains got the fanart and the animatics), and most of the others just stood around and watched silently. So, when the place that is supposed to symbolise community is under threat, half of the people that would usually fight to protect it were like 'Lol, no, I'm feeling a little evil today >:3' and started burning the place down. In some stories that could be a compelling turning point, but it just did not work at all, and it really spotlighted the variance in storytelling skills between participants. There was no build-up to the betrayals, it made no sense, and DSMP members were realising that caving to the will of the viewers was profitable (pandering to what your audience of mostly young teenagers wants to see is a bad idea, for obvious reasons).

There was a lot of audience homework copying inspiration, actually. Viewers would post that characters need therapy, so someone starts trying to do in-character therapy. Viewers would theorise about a villain arc for someone, which would then happen with zero development. Viewers would say, 'Hey, it would be neat if this guy was a time traveller' - enter stage left, that guy's time travel-based side series.

Throw in the constant drama, the ever-looming misogyny both on the server and in the community (source: just look at the gender ratio and the general treatment of Nihachu), and the fact that some of the acting was... rough.

At the time, it was all a lot of fun. Regardless of how it turned out, the enjoyment I personally got from the Dream SMP was very real, and I'm glad that I had it to get me through a rough time, but as a case study it's endlessly fascinating how something could be so fundamentally doomed to crash and burn. I don't think I could sit through and enjoy an entire Dream SMP vod again (unless it was a Technoblade vod, but even then it would be bittersweet for... obvious reasons).

I never actually watched the final stream that they did on the server. I don't know how people who're still active fans do it.

So yeah, Homestuck but bad doesn't sound too innacurate.

Watched a 3 hour plot summary of the Dream SMP just to see what all those teenagers in 2020 were on about and I've come away from it with the conclusion that, corollary to my joke that The Locked Tomb is "Homestuck if it was good", the Dream SMP is Homestuck if it was bad

[nik0nk1]

CAN I REAUEST MARK WOTH A S/O WHO IS LIKE SHADOW MILK COOKIE..?

SO SHINY SO STRONGGGGG

Author's Note: After a lot of begging from my friends and some request of it, I finally made this fjdbbdj hope y'all like it, it's gonna be a bit short and it's not only Mark on it hehe

SMC!Reader

Crossover shenanigans, Mark is frustrated, Debbie needs a break, Eve is lowkey spiraling, Omniman has had enough, Mauler Twins are fighting themselves(or are they?), [Name] wants chaos

♪•|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~|•♪

Shadow Milk Cookie!Reader Headcanons + Invincible Characters' Reactions

What if [Name] is Shadow Milk Cookie inspo!

You embody deception, illusions, and trickery, with an unsettlingly playful demeanor.

Your words are laced with half-truths, riddles or just straight up lies, making it hard for people to tell when you're being serious.

You have a theatrical way of speaking, always performing as if the world is your stage.(maybe the world really is just a big stage and were- Ahem)

Your jester-like attire and mask add to your eerie aesthetic, making you look like you belong in a twisted fairytale.

Your abilities revolve around shapeshifting, creating false realities, and manipulating minds with your elaborate tricks.

You revel in chaos but are not entirely evil(or..?)—your motives are complex, and your allegiance is as unpredictable as your magic.

Sometimes, you switch from playful banter to chilling, calculated menace within seconds, making it hard to trust you.

Invincible Characters First Reaction to ShadowMilkCookie!Reader

Mark Grayson / Invincible

At first, Mark is kind of confused. You look like a jester but talk like a villain in a Shakespearean play. When you suddenly disappear and reappear behind him, whispering, "Oh, dear hero, what would your mother say if she knew how fragile you truly are?"—he immediately gets on edge.

"O-okay... what the hell was that?" He’s wary of your illusions and hates how you keep making copies of yourself, laughing in his ear. Mark tries to fight you, but it’s like trying to punch a dream—nothing ever lands. He’s frustrated as hell but also a little terrified.

Omni-Man / Nolan Grayson

Omni-Man is not amused. At all. He doesn’t like mind games, and he especially doesn’t like being made a fool of. The first time he encounters you, he swings at you full force—only for you to vanish into thin air, your laughter echoing around him.

"What kind of trickery is this?" he growls.

"Oh, my dearest Viltrumite, I do wonder... what would it take to make you truly doubt yourself?" You smirk, summoning an illusion of Debbie crying and cursing his name.

For the first time in a long while, Omni-Man hesitates. His fists clench, his eyes flickering between rage and something else. But then—he snaps out of it, flying toward you at full speed. You barely dodge, grinning.

"Tsk tsk! So easily fooled! You really are all muscle and no mind!"

If you actually manage to make him doubt himself even a little, congratulations—you just made one of the most dangerous beings in the universe furious.

Debbie Grayson

Debbie doesn’t trust you one bit. The way you talk, how you always almost tell the truth but twist it just enough to keep people guessing—it sets off all her alarms.

"I've dealt with liars before," she says, arms crossed. "What do you actually want?"

And you? You just grin. "Want? Ah, dear lady, isn't that the eternal question? I want what you want. A moment of peace. A truth that doesn’t hurt. A world where love isn’t a lie… But alas! That is not this world, is it?"

She HATES how much your words make sense.

Cecil Stedman

Cecil has seen a lot of weird things in his time, but you? You’re something else. He’s immediately suspicious and keeps you under constant surveillance.

"I don't trust you, clown."

"Oh, Cecil, you wound me! I am but a humble performer! A mere weaver of stories! Why, the real villains here wear capes, not jester hats."

He doesn’t laugh. He just glares at you, muttering under his breath about how much of a pain you’re going to be. But deep down, he knows you could be useful—if he can figure out how to keep you under control.

Atom Eve

Eve is cautious around you. She wants to believe there’s good in you, but she can also feel how dangerous you are. Your unpredictability puts her on edge, especially when you start saying things like—

"Ah, Eve, you have the power to reshape the world, and yet... you hesitate. Tell me, how does it feel to hold the divine in your hands but fear to use it?"

She clenches her fists, glaring. "I don’t have to prove myself to you."

And you? You just smirk. "Oh, but darling, you want to, don’t you?"

She HATES how you get under her skin.

The Mauler Twins

At first, the Maulers just think you’re some kind of joke. But then, when they try to punch you and end up hitting each other instead—oh, they start taking you seriously real fast.

"What the hell?! Where’d they go?!"

"I dunno, but I swear I saw ‘em over there—WAIT, HOW AM I PUNCHING MYSELF?!"

They get so frustrated that they try to just blow you up instead. Too bad explosions don’t work well on illusions. You leave them screaming at each other while you skip away, laughing.

Overall:

Omni-Man is pissed.

Mark is frustrated.

Debbie doesn’t trust you.

Cecil is stressed.

Robot is confused.

Eve is questioning herself.

The Maulers are punching air.

And you? You’re just having the time of your life watching it all unfold.

After all… isn’t the world just one big, delicious lie?

♪•|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~|•♪

Author's Note: Making a part two, cause I'm adding Robot, Thragg and Conquest cause why not?

Toodles~