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lightaflaem · 2 months ago

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𝐩𝐨𝐯: 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐚 𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭.

pairing: tattoo artist!suna x f!reader

genre: semi-angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, suggestive

word count: 5.1k

content warnings: profanities, suggestive themes, mentions of needles, sticks, poking, sharp objects, blood, mentions of abuse, scars, violence, trauma, addiction

summary: after countless attempts to convince your tattoo artist college friend, suna rintaro, to do your body art, you couldn’t understand why he keeps on rejecting you. not until he told and showed you the real reason why.

“Is this the chair where your clients sit to get their tattoos done?” you asked, pointing at the leather chair in front of you.

“Yeah, where else do you think I got it done?” Suna answered, not removing his eyes from the patterned tape he’s been wrapping on the grip on the gun.

“So, when are you going to do mine?” you hopped on the leather material, arm resting on the extended side as you clean your antecubital area with your other free hand. It’s obviously not set for your height as you tried making yourself comfortable on the depthness of the chair.

“Very funny, Y/N. Now get off that chair and help me set these up. There's small sized gloves under the cabinet beside that chair, wear those before touching anything.” he ordered, not giving a single fuck about your question. Rolling your eyes, you stood up and started searching for the gloves in the compartment.

“Why won’t you do my tatts?”

“‘Cause you're my friend.”

“Seriously, Rintaro? You have favoritism.”

“Seriously, Y/N. I don’t have favoritism and I don’t do tatts for my friends because I already know them. My brain becomes a mush when it comes to thinking of designs when I already know the person.”

Your jaw dropped at his answer. You don’t buy it. Seriously, what the fuck is he playing with? Irked, you intentionally wore the pair of latex with much more force, making it slap against your wrist hard enough to leave marks. You placed a sterile mat on the stainless surface of the table, aligning the vaseline-coated small cups horizontally and started loading it up with black and red inks.

“You’d make a great apprentice.” he commented as he watched you do the preparations the same way he does it before every session. Each and every step was done with fragility, just like how you retained his routine by watching him do the same thing for the past few years of being with him.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to get a red tattoo,” you spoke as you continued filling the cups. “It’s sexy and I think I’ll look hot in it.”

“But you always look hot, with or without that red ink.” Suna said casually, making your heartbeat accelerate but you didn’t let it get into you because he probably said it to his clients most of the time.

“I know right. That’s why when my college friend became a tattoo artist, the force of getting it done doubled up. Specifically by him.” you know that you didn’t fail to emphasize how badly you wanted to get your body art done by him but maybe for him, he saw it as nothing but a mere compliment for his works.

Who would have thought that the quiet kid from one of your elective classes way back in college a few years ago who subsequently also became your close friend because of a mutual friend, the Miya twins, who were your classmates since you’re in elementary school, will become a famous tattoo artist specializing in line arts, minimalism, and patchworks.

Suna also probably never saw that his future will be like this. From just surviving everyday to a big time personality of inks and needles. With the freedom and peace he gained from following his calling, he also took a leap of faith to change his physical appearance from cropping his hair shorter, both arms, chest, and neck full of patchwork of random tattoos, and his signature snake bites that captivated the hearts of his crowd.

He never liked fame, though. He always hides whenever he’s got the chance to escape from paparazzi and respectfully declines the clients he doesn't want to work with and cannot work with. He's hard to get. That makes him more fascinating in the eyes of others. It’s like he’s hidden behind those inks and it will take thousands of needles to uncover. He’s surely one of a kind.

His skill in generating different designs specifically for each client is no joke. A lot of local and international artists and internet personalities are hitting up his instagram direct messages, asking for his details of booking. You vividly remember one of his interviews wherein he was asked if he ever recycled a design for different clients and what makes him unique from other tattoo artists. He answered“Each client has their own blueprint depending on their cup of tea. That’s what makes me unique from other artists. I created my own scheme and let it align on my client’s skin like it’s running out of breath and ink’s the only thing it needed to satisfy its hunger.”

He’s distinct. He’s consistent. He’s a genius.

But why the hell wouldn't he do your tattoo?

“You're an ink virgin, right? Why do you want to get your tattoo done by me so much?” With much curiosity, Suna leaned against the chair, arms crossing against his chest as his eyes squeezed, waiting to scrutinize your answer.

“Why not? It’s because it’s you.” you simply answered back, finally capping the bottle of ink. In your peripheral vision, you saw how Suna’s eyes dilated but still kept his unpleasant posture. “But if you don’t want to ink my body then it’s fine with me. I’ve been pestering you about it since you started and it’s been a few years. I’m not getting any younger, that's why I wanted to at least get my first tattoo before I turn 27.”

Taken aback by your statement, Suna stayed quiet for a few seconds. Finished with your extra lending hands with his set up, you threw the pair of gloves into the yellow trash bag and finally faced the 6 '1 guy. Suna’s lips were pursed before he licked the lower part, tasting the cold metal of his lip piercing.

“Where do you want to get your first tatts?” he questioned as his gaze started lingering on your bare skin.

“I don’t know, do you have a preferred part?” you threw back, not having a single clue on where you wanted to get your first one.

Removing himself from the chair, he took a step forward, slowly making his way towards you. You weren’t sure why but your feet felt like it was glued on the ground. The vision started to get blurry, almost feeling dizzy but you found your vision focusing more on Suna, who’s already in front of you with a small curve of smile written on his face.

“If you ask me where,” he lifted his hand, letting his delicate fingers glide from your shoulder up to your collarbone that sent shivers to your spine. “I prefer it to be somewhere where others can’t see it. Somewhere where I’m the only one who can see it. Somewhere exclusive only for me.” he smirked and pulled himself away from you. “Kidding. Your body, your rules.”

His touch left your skin yet you could still feel his cold fingertips against yours. You felt your breathing stopped as you held it the whole moment he was in front of you and whispered those words to you. Damn you, Suna. He surely knew how to shake your whole existence in a few words.

“I’ll be going away for three days. I’ll go to Tokyo to attend a tattoo convention.” he spoke, not letting his gaze wander to anywhere except you. “If you happen to finally be decisive about the placement before I get back, I’ll do your tatts. In exchange, I’ll tell and show you something.”

You grinned, finally hitting the jackpot. Bingo.

“Deal. I’ll see you in three days.”

Suna let out a small chuckle when he saw how happy your eyes were. Silly, he thought. Who knew that a single tattoo could mean the world to a 25-year-old adult like you?

“Oh before I forget,” he suddenly remembered, turning to you once more. “Don’t worry. I’ll update for the next three days.”

“Holy shit, Rintaro finally agreed to do yer tatts?!” Atsumu exclaimed, almost flipping the table.

“Shut your mouth, you’re spitting the best burger in Hyogo all over the place!” His twin brother, Osamu snarked at him.

Despite graduating from college and living your lives separately, one becoming a professional volleyball player for Japan, the other opening his own onigiri business, and you having your own clothing line, you couldn’t ignore the fact that the Miya twins literally have a special place in your heart. So here you are, sitting across them in a fast food chain with burgers and fries stuffed in your mouth as you continued catching up with each other’s lives after a few months of not seeing each other.

The twins know how much you wanted to get your first tattoo from Rintaro. Giving all their best shots and trying everything within their might, they still cannot lure their old mate into the trap. They were always shut down by Suna, especially Atsumu since he’s the one who’s been doing all of the talking and bargaining because apparently, he’s got a big mouth according to their fox-eyed friend.

They even went as far as recruiting the innocent Sakusa Kiyoomi, also one of their tattoo artist friends who recently opened his shop to blackmail Suna into inking your body; however, the latter just scoffed at their failed idea and told them to try harder again next time. With that, Atsumu shouldered Sakusa’s business permit expenses as a “payment” for pestering him.

“I mean, I’m also surprised, ‘yah know? It took me years to persuade him and now I just have to decide for the placement. But I would love to get it in red ink, though.” you shared your thoughts as you sipped from your diet cola.

“Did you already have a placement in your mind? Maybe your shoulders?” Osamu pointed at your exposed skin from wearing a tank top.

You just shrugged because honestly, you haven’t given it much thought yet. “I have an idea. But Rin told me that he prefers to do it somewhere exclusive only for him.”

Atsumu bursted out, laughing his whole ass off that earned a few stares from the people around you. You and Osamu were puzzled, giving him a tyrannical look.

“Fucking hell, man. I am so proud,” he said between his laughs. “Rinrin has grown into a man! He’s got balls, Y/N! He finally got the dick, Samu!”

The rest of the night went well as you guys hit karaoke and arcade after dinner just like the old days. If it wasn’t for Atsumu’s official schedule the following day, the three of you plan to invite Suna for a drink because he’s finally returning back tonight from his 3-day tattoo convention in Tokyo.

He kept his word on updating you. The very first thing that you saw when you opened your eyes on his first day in Tokyo was a ‘good morning’ text, followed by a mirror picture of him wearing a featured shirt from your summer collection. You blushed at the fact that he’s wearing your own creation even though he’s very supportive of it since the very start. He looked really good in your design.You told him that he doesn’t need to update you that much but his response was ‘Na uh. I’ll still update you so hurry up and think about where you wanted to get it, Ma’am.’. You knew that it was just a polite term yet, it’s enough to make your knees feel weak. But you were quick enough to shake the thoughts off, thinking that it’s just a friendly term to address his future client.

As the darkness engulfed the sky, the twins dropped you off in front of your apartment and bid them goodbye. It’s already 9 in the evening and you wonder if Suna’s already back in Hyogo because your message was left delivered and you haven’t received a single text from him since this afternoon.

As if on cue, your phone buzzed, flashing Suna’s contact photo on the screen.

Rintaro is calling…

“Yo.” you answered, unlocking the door of your unit.

“Ma’am? Did you just get home?” his raspy voice boomed on the other line of the phone. You never knew how much you longed for his presence, not until you heard his voice again for the first time in 3 days.

“Yup. We went to karaoke and arcade after dinner. We’re supposed to invite you for drinks but Tsumu’s got an official sched tomorrow.” you paused, kicking your shoe on the rack. “How about you? Did you just get home?”

“Yeah. Just got here and the first thing I did was to call you after fully charging my phone. It’s been dead since afternoon because I lost my charger. M’sorry for not messaging you.” you don’t know if you’re just a little bit tired from earlier but you could sense the hidden craving behind his voice.

“It’s okay, Rin. It’s no big deal,” you assured, as it was really not a big deal for you. “So, about the offer.”

You heard him clicking his tongue, followed by a soft chuckle. “Have you thought where you wanted to get your first ones, Ma’am?”

“Mhm. You wanna know where?”

“Surprise me.”

It made you giggle like a highschool kid talking to her crush for the first time. Suna is really good with his words. On the other line, Suna was leaning his head against his black bed frame, unintentionally scratching his bare chest as he’s not used to wearing a top inside his house and saw it. He took a deep breath before biting his lower lip to surpass the fact that he’s thrilled with the thought of him finally marking your skin.

“Where do you want to get it done? It can be in my studio but I can also do home service, exclusive only for you.”

“I want to get it done in the studio. I wanted to experience sitting in your leather chair as a client, Sir.”

Damn. Something ignited inside Suna when he heard you calling Sir, right back when he started calling you Ma’am. It’s like a switch being flipped on. Composing his mind and shaking any thoughts, he nodded as if you’re seeing him right now.

“Alright then. We’ll start tomorrow at nine in the morning. Make sure to get enough sleep, eat breakfast and drink water. I’ll brief you tomorrow once we’re there, Ma’am. Remember that in exchange, I’ll tell and show you something.” he reminded, knowing that you don’t like going to bed early.

“Wow, your customer service is top tier.” you commended as your mind started intensifying with the thought of finally doing it tomorrow.

“Exclusive only for you, Ma’am.” he reminded once again, trying to hint you up.

“Okay, Sir. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’ll see you. Good night, Y/N.”

Fuck. It’s not the first time Suna has said that to you but your insides are rumbling. You felt your blood rushing as your vital organ increased the pumping because anytime now, you could feel suffocated from the excitement. Calm down. Calm down.

“Good night, Rin.”

With that, he let you hang up the call. Later that night, you tried your best to get a good night's sleep yet in your fantasy, you still feel like you’re sleep calling with Suna. You couldn’t take your mind off with his words earlier. He’s going to tell and show you something? Still trying to squeeze every cell of your brain, you cannot pulp any idea on what it’s going to be.

You just hope it’s nothing serious because it’s actually scary, the thought of him being dead serious on something. You shrugged off any negative thoughts and wished that it's nothing because you wouldn’t be able to grasp if it’s going to significantly impact your life in a pessimistic way. You might lose your shit because you know that you’re clearly, madly, deeply attached to Suna Rintaro.

“So this is how it feels like to sit right here.” you spoke with awe as you comfortably aligned yourself with the chair’s depth. It was adjusted perfectly for your height.

Suna grinned, setting up the materials on the stainless table beside you. You offered to help but he quickly declined it, reasoning that you’re here as a client today, not as his self-labeled apprentice.

Despite being here lots of time already, it felt like this was the first time you’ve seen his studio. The details you didn’t notice before suddenly popped in your vision, such as the fern green wallpaper and plants that he’s been watering regularly. On the outside, it looks like Suna’s more of a monochrome guy but in reality, he adores green so much because according to him, it brings the dull color into life. For him, it feels like life.

You also noticed the usual well-lit led ceiling lights wrapped around the four corners of his studio are now dimly-lit as well as the aroma of lavender mint from his scented candles that he ignited for the first time since he got it lingering probably to cover up the smell of blood, dead skin, and ink. Oh, and there’s also an inspired portrait of his favorite characters from his favorite movies drawn in his own artstyle framed and hung on the walls. His usual arctic monkeys and heavy metal playlist was replaced with some 88rising, r&b, and keshi which are you favorite artists and genre at the moment,

You never took your time to appreciate Suna’s studio this much until now.

“Okay Ma’am, show me where you wanted it to be placed.” he asked, almost ordering you. Taking a deep inhale, you were surely nervous as heck right now but you already made your mind. Somewhere where he’s the only one who can see it. Somewhere exclusive only for him, huh?

You slowly lifted your white shirt, revealing your red lace bralette that perfectly hugged your breasts. You specifically chose this outfit for this occasion. Swallowing a lump, you pointed at your waist up to the side of your right boob, passing it and nearly up to your armpit. “Here. I wanted to get it here.”

Suna was quiet the whole time yet his widened foxy eyes tell you otherwise. He’s speechless. His eyes were fixated on you, admiring the view which he saw for the first time. He knows that you’re sexy and elegant, but he didn’t expect that you’re this sexy. In his eyes, you are the most beautiful art he’s ever seen in his whole life. He fought the urge to hold you in your waist because he wanted to feel your skin against his.

“Tough spot. Damn Ma’am, you’re courageous.” he commented on your preference. You felt your cheeks heating up as embarrassment started creeping in because Suna hasn’t removed his gaze yet on your body. “Can I…touch it? I’ll just…assess it.”

You nodded, pressing your lips together as Suna’s gloved hand made its way to your body. He traced your torso up to your ribcage and he couldn’t help but to squeeze a small smile in between.

“Will it hurt?” you hesitantly asked.

“It will. But I’ll be gentle, I promise.” you almost choked on his answer because it gave you other ideas. “Now make yourself comfortable. Tell me if it hurts, we’ll take a break. I’ll do my best to make it painless but I cannot guarantee.”

You fixed your position on the inclined chair, making yourself at home on your left side but your torso was slightly flattened down, facing him to get a better access to the area, especially your sides up to your armpit. Suna sat down in the swivel stool and faced you from your left, maintaining his demeanor as he grabbed the stencil he prepared. You intentionally didn’t ask about the design he planned because you also wanted to surprise yourself with Suna's creativity. You wanted to astonish yourself and it pretty much tells how big your trust is when it comes to Suna.

Once he’s done with shaving the excess hair, the paper hits your side, tickling your skin as Suna’s gloved hand starts flattening it against your body. It was followed by the cold sensation of the adhesive washing the paper. His right pinky accidentally brushed against your boob, making you scream internally. In no time, he’s already removing the piece of paper, indicating that the stencil’s already in place.

Suna licked his lower lip and you noticed how he wore his usual snake bites differently today by swapping the horseshoe jewelry into a plain one. He pushed himself forward but still maintained the distance between the two of you. Reaching out for the tattoo gun, you’ve already had an idea how it sounded but when he tested it and made a whirring sound that buzzed on your ears, you found yourself clutching the hem of Suna’s shirt due to the tense building up inside your stomach.

“You alright, Y/N?” he asked, staring down at you. The whole point of view sent you to spiral as you never imagined yourself being under Suna.

“Yeah, sorry. I hope you don’t mind this.” you pointed at your hands curled into his shirt which earned him a few laughs. Suna thought that it was so fucking cute when look so small to him.

“You’re free to hold me wherever.” he smiled, caressing your exposed shoulder as a sign of assurance. “Remember that if it hurts too much, just tap out and we can take a break, Ma’am.”

Bobbing your head, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath as the sound of the gun reverberated once again. Suna started poking the needle against your skin. The first five minutes were much more uncomfortable rather than painful - almost feeling like a slow rug burn. However, as he moved upwards and started hitting the bones of your side ribs, it started feeling hell that you couldn’t help but small whimpers escaped from your mouth. It stings like crazy.

“Are you okay? We can take a break. Do you want some water?” Suna offered concern as he saw your forehead creased into an agonizing expression.

“N-no, just continue. I’ll eventually get used to it.” you declared, not wanting to raise your white flag.

Suna nodded and started working on it again. You could feel like he’s outlining something in more of a swivel way. You could also feel like there’s a lot of lines and shading going on. The next 30 minutes were spent with the two of you talking about college, reminiscing the memories you shared together as well as with the Miya twins. Another 30 minutes and he’s already wrapping up by taking one last wipe before applying the tattoo jelly on the area.

“I thought that it will be painful as fuck,” you said truthfully. “You wrecked my expectations, Rin.”

“Well, it’s an honor to be complimented by you. I told you, I’ll be gentle.” he winked, removing his gloves on his hands. “Congratulations, Y/N. You’re no longer a tattoo virgin.”

Laughters echoed in the room as he clapped at your achievement. He grabbed the mirror that was lying beside your chair and signaled you to sit up. Obeying him, you lifted yourself as you felt your skin being stretched.

“I hope you like my design, Y/N.” flipping the mirror, you saw your inked skin for the first time.

Your mouth parted, eyes filled with wonderstruck.

There’s a lot of fine lines from the upper part of your side, down to your ribs, and finally your waist. The lines were broken yet some of them were connected with each other. In the middle, there’s multiple flowers drawn in outline, looking like they have bloomed together. You couldn’t elucidate the design in words yet your brain could tell how it looks and your heart could tell how it feels like to be inked distinctively.

You finally understood why they call Suna a genius. Because he’s the only one who has the ability to make you feel like you're abstract and he’s the only one who can understand you.

“Do you like it?” he asked, a little bit nervous as you stayed silent.

“Like?” you questioned. “I fucking love it, Rintarou. I love it so much that it made me speechless… Thank you. Wow…Seriously, thank you.”

You’re not kidding. You’re not exaggerating. You were at a loss for words because only the silence of appreciation could speak for right now on how you feel about the design.

Pleased, a genuine smile carved on Suna’s lips as he watched you beaming with joy on your first body art done by none other than him.

“Now in exchange, I want you to pop my shirt.” he cleared his throat, bringing the mirror down as he signaled you.. Your face was puzzled. Pop…his shirt? “Come here, Y/N. Take off my shirt.”

You were hesitant at first but you gradually moved towards him and lifted his shirt out of his body. You have never seen him shirtless before because as far as you know, it makes him uncomfortable to show some skin to others before that’s why you never saw him wearing sleeveless before. And now he’s asking you to pop his shirt for what reason?

Pulling the fabric above, Suna’s exposed skin was hit with the cool air. You gasped when you saw multiple scars across the chest and lower body. Some of them formed multiple layers above each other, making the skin rise from its base. He doesn’t have any tattoo in his lower body but he has one in his chest, near his heart. And it was…shit. Could it be…?

“You see, Y/N, I never really talked about this before but my dad used to uh, beat me up with a socket wrench when I was a child,” he spoke, voice filled with coldness. “He’s an addict and whenever he doesn’t have the money to support his damn addiction, he’ll find another way to release his stress and that is to beat me up whenever he’s got the fucking chance.”

You felt like all the nerves in your body were paralyzed as your eyes slowly widened, sinking his words inside your head. He’s dad is what? Beating him? With a socket wrench? Fuck.

“I thought I wouldn’t be able to reach college, ya know? That’s why when I was given the privilege to still continue my education, I didn’t let it go to waste as I thought that it was the only way to escape from the madness of my life.” his fingers brushed against his scars. It was healed, probably years ago yet you could visibly see the paint being painted on his face as he felt the trace of his yesterday.

“And suddenly, all of this turned all the way around when I became friends with the twins and you.” he lifted his gaze, maintaining his eye contact with you. Something ignited inside Suna when he met your orbs. He felt like colors bursted in his eyes. “When my dad finally got the help he needed and I made peace with whatever demons I have, that’s when I felt like I had another chance with life. That’s why when I started taking interest in inking, I took it very seriously because for the first time, I saw that I finally saw that I got the chance to stand in life. To live, not just to survive.”

The sincere confession made a short pang inside your heart. All this time, he was hurting. All the damn time, he’s living his life in hell. And being friends with him, just being by his side, made him realize that he can finally free himself from the uncanny of his life.

“The reason why I keep on rejecting your request is because I am not ready yet. Y/N, I spent my whole career crafting the most unique design I could ever create for you. Just for you. I wanted to make it the best among the rest. Also, as cheesy as it may sound, I wanted to be the man worthy of inking your very first tattoo.”

You felt like your heart’s going feral inside your ribcage. Suna stood up in front of you, bare bodies touching each other. You could feel his minty hot breath tickling your nose despite the coldness of the room. Slowly, he grabbed both of your hands and intertwined your fingers together before bringing it in front of you to plant a soft kiss on it.

“I’m sorry that it took me this much time to be worthy of everything. Thank you for not giving up on me. You may notice the lines in your tattoos, it represents the thought of despite being broken, you could still find your way back and bloom within it. Y/N, you gave me that reason to bloom again at my own pace.”

He dragged your hands in his chest, making you feel the only tattoo he has on his upper body. “Y/N, this is your initials. This was my very first tattoo and I intentionally got it in my heart so that whenever I hold my heart, I’ll always remember that you’re here.”

Suna’s eyes glimmered, mirroring yours as you could feel him getting more emotional any second. Giving up, you stood on your toes, enclosing the centimeters given between the two of you by latching your lips to his. Without giving it a second thought, Suna pulled you closer, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. It was a hot, wet kiss that the two of you shared as tears started tearing down in your cheeks. When Suna tasted the salty liquid, he finally let his guard down and cried himself between the sloppy kiss.

Pulling away, both of you were panting as your cheeks were stained with the liquid that you shared. You let out a chuckle and pulled him into a tight hug which he gladly returned.

“You’re never late, Suna. You will always be the tattoo artist that captivated my heart, no matter what and no matter how long it takes. I’ll always wait for your creations, and I’ll kiss every one of your flaws until you realize you’re love.”

bonus

y/n's "exclusive" tattoo made it to suna's instagram :]

632 notes · View notes

greensagephase · 3 months ago

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Expectant Father!Miguel

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader Summary: Sweet Miguel who's a daddy to be and trying his best to support you and prepare for the baby's arrival! Word Count: 2.7k Warnings: none, just fluff Masterlist

Imagining a Miguel who after BTSV grieves and heals from his loss and trauma. He opens up and falls in love with someone, you, a Spider-Woman from another universe. The two of you eventually get married and after a few years of a beautiful marriage life, the talk about children comes up once more. You both talked about it early on in your relationship, of course, especially with Miguel losing Gabriella. You wanted to make sure that Miguel was open to the idea of starting a family in the future.

Even after marriage, the topic came up a few times here and there. Each time, Miguel always reassured you that he was open and ready for whenever you both decided to begin trying. And so, the talk eventually started again after a few years of enjoying your marriage. You both discussed it and reassured each other that you were both more than ready to start, so at last, Miguel and you begin trying!

Surprisingly, or may not so much, you soon begin to show symptoms and before you know it, there’s Miguel and you in your shared bathroom with pregnancy tests. Miguel holds your hand as you both wait for the result, both feeling nervous because this could be it. Trying to ease your nerves and his racing heart, Miguel peppers your forehead with kisses, whispering sweet words of reassurance.

“Te amo [I love you].”

“Don’t stress if it’s false symptoms, mi vida [my life]. We’ll keep trying.”

After what feels like forever, the tests reveal the results…

Expectant Father!Miguel, who tears up and wraps his arms tightly around you before kissing your face out of pure love and affection when the pregnancy test turns out positive.

Expectant Father!Miguel, who can’t sleep that night out of excitement! Miguel holds you close to his chest while you sleep soundly, planting tender and sweet kisses to your head to avoid waking you up as he thinks about the new and beautiful change in your lives, unable to believe that this is happening. He’s going to be a dad!

Expectant Father!Miguel, who wants to tell the whole world that you’re pregnant, but who agrees not to say anything for the first trimester, just in case. Despite wanting to scream the news to all of Nueva York, Miguel also loves being able to keep the news to yourselves. It’s your little secret!

Expectant Father!Miguel, who wants you to have the best midwife, doula, ob/gyn, or whoever you wish to treat you during your pregnancy. Miguel wants to make sure you and the baby will be well taken care off during and after the pregnancy in all aspects, especially medically, so he does research like his life depends on it with you to choose the right professional. This is especially important to him because he’s aware of how often women are disregarded when it comes to their own health, so Miguel wants to make sure that whoever you both work with, takes your concerns seriously.

Expectant Father!Miguel, who goes with you to every single appointment. No matter what. Miguel will schedule things around the appointments in order to go with you because he’s not missing one. His eyes soften up every single time he looks at the screen, seeing your baby moving around. He holds your hand, smiling and filled with happiness as the professional explains the progress. He may not say it at every appointment but he always thinks about how you both, “made that” happen.

Expectant Father!Miguel, who holds the ultrasound pictures after the appointment in his hands, looking longingly at them. At home, he asks if it's okay to frame them so they can be added to the wall of photos in your living room. He personally hangs it up!

Expectant Father!Miguel, who already keeps a stock of your favorite snacks in his lab, but now that you’re pregnant, expands it. As your pregnancy progresses and you start getting weird cravings, Miguel stocks up on a mixture of food items to be ready.

Expectant Father!Miguel, who will go anywhere and everywhere to get you food when you get cravings, no matter how weird they are. Miguel will travel the multiverse, even at 4am, to satisfy the cravings you and baby have!

Expectant Father!Miguel, who gains weight during the pregnancy, too! He doesn’t mind at all, but instead smiles every time he remembers, feels, or sees the new extra weight because “estamos esperando, mi amor [we’re expecting, my love].” He’s proud of it and he doesn’t let any little joke or comment about it get to him!

Expectant Father!Miguel, who massages your swollen feet to ease your discomfort! He tenderly massages them and rubs lotion to keep them soft. Talking about this, Miguel will do your toenails if you don’t get them done professionally. He surprisingly does a great job and he finds that this is another great way to continue pampering you in the future. Miguel also helps you put your shoes on, tying them when it's necessary when you find it too difficult as your pregnancy progresses.

Expectant Father!Miguel, who always tells you how beautiful you are, but especially now that you’re pregnant. Miguel thinks you’re absolutely gorgeous with your pregnancy glow, that's how he sees you, but he also knows that you could easily get ideas about your body not looking good or feeling self-conscious, so he makes sure to tell you often how stunning you are. Miguel wants you to know he loves you no matter what your body looks like!

Expectant Father!Miguel, who buys you the prettiest maternity clothes! He doesn’t care to spend money on clothes or anything else because he wants to you to feel beautiful and comfortable all throughout your pregnancy. Every time you go shopping, he always wants to buy you something, even when you tell him that you have enough clothes but again, Miguel wants you to feel beautiful and comfortable. Plus, Miguel is sure the maternity clothes will come in handy again in a few years!

Expectant Father!Miguel, who holds you tenderly and whispers in your ear how beautiful and strong you are when you have those moments of self-consciousness. He gently reminds you it’s okay to feel that, he knows your body is experiencing changes, but he also reminds you that in his eyes, you’re absolutely beautiful. “Eres una diosa, mi amor [you’re a goddess, my love]”, he whispers.

Expectant Father!Miguel, who starts reading books about parenting and babies! Miguel is an avid reader (you cannot change my mind about this; the man loves to read, but with so many duties as the leader of the Spider Society, our current Miguel doesn’t make much time for it, but he’s def a bookworm), so it’s no surprise that a neat pile of books always sits on his nightstand, but the difference is that his books suddenly turn from science and fiction genres to books about parenting, children, and childbirth to educate and prepare himself as a father. As the pregnancy progresses, Miguel stays up late reading while you’re curled up at his side, sleeping soundly. He rubs your back tenderly with his free hand, partly to comfort you in your sleep but also because physical touch is one of his love languages. Miguel takes little breaks here and there just to admire your sleeping figure, wondering what he did to deserve you and the life he has with you.

Expectant Father!Miguel, who loves cooking to spoil you! He already enjoyed cooking for you before but now he finds double the happiness because he knows you’re eating for two! Also, Miguel will cook anything and everything for you; from your favorite dishes to new ones you’re suddenly craving, even if he’s never cooked it before.

Expectant Father!Miguel, who has to keep his emotions in check during the first trimester because you both agreed to keep your pregnancy a secret to avoid raising suspicions. You both agreed to keep it a secret until the first trimester just in case there are complications, which thankfully do not come up. Despite both of you agreeing to behave normally, people at HQ begin to wonder why Miguel is suddenly extra smiley. Some spider members ask him about it, which makes him realize he’s not doing too great of a job acting normal (but like, you can’t blame him! Miguel is just so, so, so happy that you’re going to be parents!). During the first trimester, some spider members dare ask why he’s so much more cheerful, so he always hits them up with, “Can’t I just smile?” He then puts on a grumpy face for show and to quiet down the suspicions, even though he’s so happy he’d buy a holographic billboard to announce your pregnancy to the entire population of Nueva York if he could, which financially he can, but he’s certain you wouldn’t appreciate that too much.

Expectant Father!Miguel, who no longer bothers to hide his happiness and excitement once the first trimester has passed and you announce it to your friends and coworkers at HQ because the pregnancy is going well. He doesn’t care to hide his excitement when someone asks him how you’re doing or if he’s ready for possible sleepless nights.

Expectant Father!Miguel, who truly, and I mean truly, doesn’t care about the baby’s gender! You guys talk about it as the weeks go by, wondering and guessing for fun, but Miguel truly doesn’t care. Whether it’s a girl or a boy, Miguel is going to love, cherish, and protect that child until his last breath!

Expectant Father!Miguel, who is over the moon when your baby bump starts showing! His gaze softens every time his eyes land on it, his heart elated with happiness. Miguel loves to cup it in his large hands, filled with awe that a little being half him and half yours is growing in your tummy. He obviously knows how the process works but either way, Miguel is always filled with such awe as he caresses and cups your bump.

Expectant Father!Miguel, whose eyes widen and mouth parts the first time he feels the baby kick. He looks at you, his expression one of love and tenderness while he feels the soft kicks under his hands. He kisses you sweetly before he kisses your bump and whispers softly, “Mi familia [my family].” He laughs softly as baby keeps kicking and jokes about having “un futbolista [a fútbol player]” in the family, which only seems to fuel the kicks. This is how you both discover that the baby loves listening to him talk.

Expectant Father!Miguel, who talks to your tummy every day once you both discover that the baby loves listening to his voice. Miguel talks about how excited he is for the baby to arrive, about how loved they will be by both their parents. He often reminds the baby that, “I’ll always protect and love you.”

Expectant Father!Miguel, who is involved in a very part of putting together the nursery because he’s so excited about it. You catch him smiling to himself very often while you both work on the nursery little by little over the months. He builds the crib, making sure that it’s assembled properly for the baby’s well being, and every other piece of furniture that needs to be put together. Talking about furniture, Miguel makes sure there’s a bookcase included, one you both slowly fill with children’s books. He helps hang up the picture frames you both decided on with cute photos appropriate for a baby nursery. He buys the most comfortable chair/couch for the room so that you’re both always comfortable while tending to the baby. You try to keep a budget for the room, but Miguel tells you to not worry about that! Miguel has more than enough money to provide for you and the baby, and he doesn’t care to spend it on the two of you, so he has no budget when it comes to setting up the baby’s room because he wants to make sure you and the baby have everything that’s needed!!

Expectant Father!Miguel, who goes with you to every class you attend to prepare for the baby’s arrival. It doesn’t matter if it’s in the middle of the day. Just like how he schedules things around doctor appointments, Miguel also fits these classes in not only to make sure he’s there as a supporting spouse but also to learn and be prepared to assist and support you when the baby arrives.

Expectant Father!Miguel, who smiles warmly when members from the Spider Society throw you a surprise baby shower. He looks at the cute and small clothes with affection, filled with some amusement as well when he sees some of them are spider theme.

Expectant Father!Miguel, who reads to the baby and you because he learned from somewhere that this is beneficial for children. He does this late in the evenings when you’re both cuddling on the couch, his hand tenderly caressing your stomach. Due to his gentle voice, he usually lulls you to sleep right there on the couch. If you don’t wake up soon, Miguel carries you to bed.

Expectant Father!Miguel, who also plays music for the baby and you. Again, he read something about this having benefits, so he’ll play different genres but usually it’s calm tunes you both choose to play.

Expectant Father!Miguel, who sits with you to decide on a name once you find out the gender of the baby. You ask him about his opinion on the choices you’ve both selected, but he can’t settle on one. He never realized how hard it’s to choose a name, something your child will have forever. You think it’s cute how his eyebrows furrow in deep thought as he contemplates on his personal choice.

Expectant Father!Miguel, who sits on the floor while you sit on the chair you decided on for the nursery while the two of you pack the hospital bag when you’re in the last few weeks of your pregnancy. He checks the bag about a thousand times to make sure you and baby will have everything that’s needed while at the hospital, trying to make sure neither of you have forgotten something.

Expectant Father!Miguel, who makes sure your place is clean right before the baby arrives so that when you come home, the place will be spotless. He also makes sure that all the devices for the baby, such as the baby monitor, are ready to go.

Expectant Father!Miguel, who holds your hand as you’re about to have the baby and refuses to leave your side no matter what! He quietly and sweetly tells you how much he loves you, how strong and beautiful you are. He knows his words of encouragement might do little to ease your pain and discomfort, but the words spill from his mouth regardless because he truly believes what he’s saying. He brings your hand to his lips before he kisses the back of it with misty eyes, filled with so many emotions.

Papa!Miguel, who wipes his tears when the nurse hands you the baby for the first time. He gazes at you with so much love and affection while you hold your baby for the first time, noticing how gentle and natural you are at motherhood. He saves the image in his mind, knowing he'll remember that moment for the rest of his life.

Papa!Miguel, whose eyes spill more tears when you hand the baby to him so he can experience holding his child for the first time, too. His soft gaze captures every detail of his child’s face, searing it into his memory forever. He notes how light and small they feel in his arms, the warmth from their little body, and the beautiful scent coming from his child. He turns to look at you, smiling, and in that moment, he wonders if he’s dreaming all of this. If so, Miguel silently wishes that he never wakes up from this beautiful dream.

Finally got to post this one; it's been in my Notion vault since April 💀but anyway, thank you for reading!

Alondra❤️

#miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #spiderman 2099 #across the spiderverse #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #soft!miguel o'hara

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brionysea · 4 months ago

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when it comes to the umbrella academy, a lot of people seem to think that the first half is great and the second half is terrible. personally, I think only the first *season* is great, or even good. here's why:

the mission statement at the end of season 1 is fixing viktor, but viktor isn't the only broken one, so you can infer that they're all going to have to fix *each other* - as a family, the one thing their abuser never let them be. and the world's burning down around them because of the most dramatic sibling confrontation to ever grace the earth, but they're holding hands and escaping together and surviving the impossible with the intent to move forward, even if that means momentarily moving backwards. it's a masterful allegory for finally growing up, accepting responsibility for your personal trauma and tragedy and how they shaped you, and the moment you take that power back by choosing to heal your inner child, only after being slapped in the face with the fact that if you don't, it *will* destroy everything you've ever built, ever cared about, and ever could.

and then the rest of the show forgets all of it. as it were, it goes in the *exact opposite direction.*

on the surface, the second season isn't *as* bad as the subsequent ones are. but season 3 and 4's faults can be traced back to season 2 by how it pivoted away from the serious subject matter that the story (not the plot - the *story*) was heavily baked in, leaning hard into the goofier elements instead, without ever understanding the contrast that those conflicting elements served to highlight. it made them both more powerful; the jokes were funnier because you were just devastated, and the trauma was more devastating because you were just in tears laughing. the emotional roller coaster is key to understanding these people, and you *have* to take the serious stuff seriously for it to work. at least half of the show doesn't, and as a result, the emotional moments feel hollow.

controversial opinion: as a character, luther is better in season 1 than he is anywhere else. he's more unlikable, but that's because he's implicitly there to show what *not* to do - even if he'd succeeded narratively by locking viktor up and saving the world, he still failed thematically by emulating their father and continuing the cycle of abuse - so luther's a character that's being very effectively used to add to the core theme of the story. he feels like a real, frustrating person, whose brain chemistry got messed up by years of abuse and isolation, all for the crime of thinking his father loved him and wanted the best for him. not like a made up guy on your screen doing silly stuff solely for your entertainment.

season 2 was also the start of the characters getting love interests instead of storylines, which season 1 never would have *dreamed* of; klaus and dave's tragic romance only served to further klaus's character arc, viktor's creepy boyfriend was actually manipulating him the whole time, five's fractured-psyche-mannequin was a narrative tool to let us see into the head of such an emotionally reticent character, and so on. the romance served the character, but fairly quickly into the show's progression, it felt like the character started serving the romance. five was immune to this curse for a long time due to aidan gallagher's age, which is why he's (for the most part) the best, most consistent character across the show, because they had to use their *imagination* for him and actually *write an arc* instead of falling back on tired romance tropes that any selection of characters could slot into to fill the dead space.

after season 1, the umbrella academy is entertaining, but it doesn't have anything to *say.* which is extremely disappointing when the show initially made such a strong case for what it wanted to be.

#the umbrella academy #tv: tua

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kaiser1ns · 3 months ago

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#. CHEATER, CHEATER STOP !

featuring 𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗯𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗸𝗲𝗿 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 ıllı. umemiya hajime, takiishi chika, togame jo, kaji ren

fluff. yes, what you did was indeed cheating to some extent, but sometimes you have to play dirty to win.

UMEMIYA HAJIME

"I knew it, you were cheating on me..." the pain in his voice, the agony and misery colored his face and his eyes began to water slowly, drop by drop as if at any moment the wall holding the dam would collapse. "But i didn't expect to be with my own best friend."

"Hajime it's not what it looks like, I-I swear I can explain," you demanded, stuttering in the process as you were caught in the act, right on the spot.

"It's not what it seems? With everything that we've been through and all that I've given for you ... And this is how you repay me?" he slammed his hands on the table, furious that was one way to describe the situation as he was starring at both of you, trying to dig out an answer.

The uno cards scattered across the table seemed to echo the shattered pieces of trust that was once held in the palms of your hands. Hiragi stepped in, "It was all her idea. I am innocent." Umemiya raised an eyebrow at you like you just broke his heart (you did). "I didn't know my girlfriend was secretly an Uno mastermind and that you Hiragi would be her little follower."

"Baby, don't take it too seriously, it's just a game." You laughed a little because of his dramatic reaction, yes what you did was indeed cheating, at some point, but if you want to win you have to play dirty sometimes.

Umemiya sighed dramatically, he is being such a child right now, "Just a game? And you made me draw 32 cards because it's just a game. Do you even understand the emotional trauma you've put me through?"

"Pretty much yeah." you said nodding of head followed by Hiragi's humming, because everyone goes through it — you either put the plus cards or you draw them, no in between.

Umemiya shot Hiragi a look of betrayal before turning back to you with furrowing his eyes and pouting. You flashed him a grin, your smile so genuine like you just didn't commit the most serious crime against your boyfriend. "I will make it up to you, anything you want. More cuddles? You got it. More kisses? On the way!"

You stood up from your place to sit next to him, as you held your hand for him to take it. And he did as you kissed him on the cheek, leaving a little scent from your strawberry lipgloss you know he adored.

He can't be that mad at you, not for too long. Despite you being a cheater.

"She's pretty good at making pancakes, just saying." The white head couldn't help but laugh at his best friend's comment, knowing how much they loved your pancakes. Food tastes better when you're in good company, not with cheaters of course. "Alright, fine. But no more stacking up the whole deck against me."

You nodded, suppressing a giggle. "I will try, no promises~"

TAKIISHI CHIKA

The two of you sit on the floor, surrounded by scattered UNO cards, your laughter filling the room. Boredom crept into Chika's features after the countless games over the past hour, but then, you laid down a +4 card, well luck was on your side today. He's about to draw twenty cards, practically handing you the win.

“You should stop doing that,” he mutters, his patience worn out after countless games. You can't help but laugh, teasing him with your victory. "Don't be a sore loser now, baby. You did pretty good but I always win."

Just as you're reveling in your win, Chika threw his cards aside angry and annoyed by your so-hidden antics. Before you know it, he grabs your ankles and pulls you towards him. You squeal in surprise as he settles you on his lap, clearly having lost interest in the game.

"You know that flirting with your rival will do you no good, right?" you say, half-joking, as he removes the cards from your hand. Chika’s golden eyes lock onto yours, a serious stare replacing the soft smile that had tried to form on his lips. "You should stop cheating," he says, his voice low and demanding, as he knows you all too well by now and how you proceed to get your wins.

"I did not!" you exclaim, genuinely offended. You’ve always had luck drawing the right cards at the right time, but cheating? Never. You always play fair, and you give your opponent a chance to make their best strategy.

"I will make sure you learn your lesson," he says, cupping your face in his hands, his touch gentle despite the intent behind his words. He moves your head slightly as if inspecting you, making you feel like a doll in his hands. What's gotten into him? It nice though, to see him behave like that.

"It's not okay to threaten girls," you tease, touching his hands that still cup your face.

"It's not okay to cheat," he counters, Touché. You frown, pretending to be ready to get up, despite your best efforts, his grip is firm. He’s not letting you go just yet. Chika always seems to see through your tricks. He’s always claimed he wouldn’t be a perfect boyfriend, but calling you a cheater? That's a new low, even for him.

His eyes study you, as if you're a puzzle he's trying to solve. In many ways, you are. You bring out a side of him that’s unfamiliar even to himself. If Endo had been here, he’d have said this was completely out of character for Takiishi. Yet, here he is, a lovesick fool, the joker in the deck, and the plus card in the UNO game of your relationship—always keeping you with a million questions in mind not knowing what to expect next.

“And what are you going to do now?” you whisper, as he leaned closer. His breath is warm against your skin and the game is long forgotten.

TOGAME JO

Togame loved shogi, especially playing with the elders from whom he had learned so much. You admired this hobby of his and how good he was at the game, but today, you were determined to finally beat him. The record was 4-0 in his favor, but you still won't give up, not when you were so close to taking his king this time.

As the game progressed, your focus sharpened, your moves becoming more strategic. Your boyfriend watched you with an affectionate smile, clearly enjoying the way you were so deep into focus. Then, in a moment that felt almost unreal, you saw it. The opening. Your hands moved almost on their own, and you captured his king.

"I did it?" you whispered to yourself, still unsure if you had truly won. But the realization hit, and a wide grin appeared on your already beautiful face. "I did it!"

Togame's eyes lit up with a warm and proud smile directed at you, "Congratulations," he said warmly, reaching over the headboard to shake your hand. You extended yours as well, but instead of a handshake, he tugged on the sleeve of your blouse. To your shock, a few of his shogi pawns fell out, clattering onto the board.

"W-what… How did they end up here?" you stammered, trying to mask your 'surprised' face. "Pfft, can you imagine?"

Togame stared at you, his expression turning serious, though his eyes still held a hint of playfulness. "Y/N, you didn't need to cheat," he said, his voice gentle despite the scolding. You felt a blush creep up your cheeks. "I didn't mean to," you mumbled, feeling embaressed that he found out, no tricks up your sleeves, yet he didn't belive any of it. "I just wanted to beat you once in something."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Your determination is one of the things I love most about you. But next time, let's keep it fair and square, okay?"

You nodded, grateful for his understanding. "Okay," you agreed, smiling at him. "But just so you know, I would have won anyway."

He laughed, a sound that always made you feel warm inside. "We'll see about that," he said, leaning in to press a soft kiss on your forehead.

KAJI REN

It was one of those rare times when Kaji finished his patrols around the town early as he found himself resting with you and Kusumi, his fellow vice-captain. You had suggested playing UNO to kill time until the others returned. Kusumi had easily secured first place, and now it was just you and Kaji left in a heated duel.

The game had stretched out, each of you fiercely battling with plus cards, neither willing to back down. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of back-and-forth, you managed to clinch victory with a triumphant smile. Kaji looked at you, then at Kusumi, who extended his hand to you, to give you plus cards. The realization dawned on him.

"Is this how you're going to play now?" Kaji's voice was tinged with anger and annoyance, his usual calm demeanor shattered. You noticed his lollipop, previously a sweet distraction, was now gone.

"What do you mean Ren?" you asked innocently, placing another +4 card on the table, sealing the deal. Your boyfriend threw his remaining cards onto the table, clearly pissed off. His frustration was visible as he was about to open his mouth to express his annoyance, but you acted quickly, placing another lollipop in his mouth, silencing him effectively.

"We'll talk about this later," you said, your tone teasing. "For now, let me enjoy my win, baby."

The word "baby" came out a bit like an insult, making him sulk even more. Despite his irritation, he couldn't stay mad at you forever. As he sucked on the lollipop, his annoyance seemed to melt away, replaced by the warmth of your presence. Kusumi chuckled, shaking his head at the two of you, standing up to leave you alone sensing that Kaji wanted to be with you now.

"You cheated," he mumbled around the lollipop. You leaned in closer, your face inches from his. "Maybe," you whispered, "but you still love me." He couldn't help but roll his eyes at you, his earlier anger slowly disappearing. "Yeah, I do," he admitted, pulling you into a gentle embrace. "But next time, I'm winning."

You laughed, wrapping your arms around him. "You already won if you want to know." It took him a while to find the meaning in your words, but cuddled with him, Kaji knew best what you meant.

taglist :: @meidiary @kazuhaiku @kiurona @maruflix @stunie @nyxypoo @kajibunny

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tightjeansjavi · 6 months ago

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The Rite of Movement | part eight

“you are the rite of movement”

A/N: wow so this is officially the longest chapter of TROM yet! I suggest you get your vibrators, dildos in check + tissues because baby love, you’re gonna need them! 😭 thank you to my sweet L @endlessthxxghts for betaing this chapter and screaming at me in Google docs over how much you love these characters! It seriously warms my heart 🥹

~word count: 11.8k~

Summary: After jokingly telling Joel that you think that Tommy may have him beat in the pussy eating department, you’re eating your words immediately. It’s a night filled with firsts and of course, lots of orgasms.

Pairing | pornstar!joel x pornstar!female reader x pornstar!tommy

Warnings: smut, fluff, angst, dom/sub vibes (heavy on the dom in this chapter) degradation kink, oral f! & male receiving, unprotected piv, denial of orgasm, edging, overstimulation, squirting, daddy kink, praise kink, aftercare, mentions of food, sexual trauma (not done by Joel), mentions of the porn industry, threesome (Joel and Tommy do not touch don’t make it weird pls) there’s a lot of vulnerable and intense sexual moments between Joel and baby love but there is immediate communication after and breaks in between, consent, intimacy, established relationship, Joel is in his 40’s, reader is in her 30’s, coming out, biphobia and aromantic phobia in the queer community, language, pet names, readers nickname is baby love, +18 minors dni!

series masterlist

The tension in the room immediately sparked back up from the words you so innocently and breathlessly uttered. The Miller brother’s briefly made eye contact at your admittance and they too could sense the fast rising tension.

Joel’s lips hovered above yours, just barely touching. He held fierce eye contact with you, brow cocked in an almost condescending fashion, “you didn’t mean that, right baby love? M’sure you didn’t, sweet girl.” He rasped, dragging his thumb against your plush, lower lip, pressing down on it gently, “cus’ we’d have a bit of a problem on our hands if ya meant it.”

“We certainly would.” Tommy chuckled.

“Mean what?” You feigned innocence, leaning in to kiss him, but he was playing hard to get.

“You know exactly what you said, baby love. You really think Tommy can eat your pussy better than I can?”

Oh fuck.

“He did a pretty good job, daddy. He might have you beat…”

He clicked his skillful tongue against the roof of his mouth, letting his hand dip from your face and settle around the base of your throat like a necklace, “baby love…” he warned you, “I’d be careful with what you’re sayin.’”

You giggled softly, “why, daddy? You gonna get jealous if I think Tommy is better?”

“Jus’ might.” He grumbled.

“Well, I see there being only one way to determine who’s the better pussy eater.” Tommy chimed in.

You tore your gaze from Joel’s face over to Tommy’s smirking one, “what way would that be exactly?”

“Oh, just a little friendly pussy eatin’ competition. Winner gets to fuck you first.”

Joel fought the urge to scoff at his brother's suggestion. “Yeah, well, you’re at an unfair advantage cus’ of my bad back and all that. Ain’t gonna be able to kick your ass if we’re doin’ this right here, right now.”

Now the attention was turned directly back to you. Two pairs of dark brown eyes locked on your face. “I like your thinking, Tommy. Why don’t you both take me upstairs? That way Joel has a fair advantage.”

“Aw, well ain’t that sweet! Babygirl wants to make sure you get a fair advantage with your old man back. Now, if that ain’t true love, I don’t know what is!”

“Shut up, Tommy. I ain’t that old.” Joel grumbled, leaning in to brush his nose right below your pulse point. “S’that what you want, baby love? Want me and Tommy to eat your sweet little pussy and you decide who’s better at it?”

You swallowed hard, taking a sharp inhale of breath when he pressed a kiss against your pulse point, nipping it gently with his teeth. “Yeah, daddy. I want that.”

“Good girl.” He murmured against your skin, blindly reaching down to tuck himself back into his shorts.

Your legs felt like jello when Joel and Tommy stood on either side of you, helping you up from the chair. Tommy pressed a kiss to your cheek, letting it linger for a moment before he headed up the stairs first. Joel stayed back with you, bending down to grab your discarded shorts and panties. “You won’t be needin’ these for the rest of the evening, unless you wanna take a little break?” He was studying your face intently, leaning over to kiss your forehead.

“I’m okay, baby. Thank you for checking in on me. Think I’m just gonna get a glass of water. Would you like one?” You draped your arms around his middle, hugging him loosely.

“Of course, baby love. Gotta make sure my girl is enjoying herself, after all. I’d love a glass of water. I’ll pack up the leftovers real quick and then we’ll head upstairs?”

“Oh, she’s enjoying herself plenty. Dream come true, honestly.” You kissed his cheek then, dropping your arms from around his middle. But before you could slip away, he was pulling you right back in and kissing you sweetly.

“Good, I’m glad to hear it.” He was, truly. With past partners, both in the industry and out, there was a level of acting that Joel would find himself partaking in. Sometimes it felt genuine and natural, other times he felt awkward, but not necessarily forced. With you, there was no second guessing, no nerves or apprehension. He was simply acting upon his feelings.

After Joel finished putting away the leftovers and you grabbed yourself and him a glass of water, he followed you up the stairs, fingers playfully tickling your sides, eliciting soft giggles to slip past your lips.

Tommy had made himself comfortable on the couch pushed up against the wall while he was scrolling through his socials. He sat up at the sound of yours and Joel’s voices echoing up the stairs. “Damn. S’about time! Thought y’all were gettin’ busy down there.” He tossed his phone to the side of the couch, hopping up enthusiastically.

You made your way over to the bed, flopping down on your back, wasting no time to rid yourself of your flimsy tank top and tossed it to the side. Now you were completely naked, thighs spreading open, knees bending at a relaxed angle while your hand slowly dipped down between your parted thighs, dragging your fingers through your slick folds, gathering up the pearlescent fluid from your prior orgasm and spread it languidly around your clit with a soft, content hum. “So, which one of you boys wants to have a taste first?”

Tommy was already making his way towards the bed before Joel stopped him, giving him a firm shove with his shoulder. “You’ve had your fill.” He nearly growled, eyes set in a challenging stare, “move the fuck outta my way.”

Tommy retreated very much like a submissive dog with its tails between his legs. He held his hands up, taking a few steps back from the bed. “Someone is a little antsy.” He muttered under his breath.

Joel didn’t even hear Tommy muttering, he was zoned in on you completely as he peeled his shirt over his head and tossed it to the side with yours. One big hand dropped between your thighs and lightly slapped your hand away, eyes narrowing on your surprised face. “Did I fuckin’ say that you could touch yourself, baby love? Actin’ like such a needy little slut for daddy, ain’t ya?” He pressed his thumb directly against your clit, rubbing the little nub in slow circles.

“I’m sorry—daddy.” You squeaked out, leaning back on your elbows for support. “Are you angry with me?”

“No, baby, course not. Jus’ think you’re a bad girl for sayin’ that Tommy can eat your pussy better than I can. Think m’gonna have you eatin’ those words right up in a few minutes.” He exudes confidence, making it very clear who is in charge here. And god, does that make you drip along the sheets with want.

“Are you sure you’re not upset with me, daddy? Because if you are…I think you should punish me, and Tommy films it.”

“Bet your slutty little pussy would love a good punishing, huh baby love? S’that what she wants?” He didn’t wait for you to respond as he leaned down, spitting a glob of saliva right over your clit, smearing it in with his thumb. “Bad girls don’t get what they fuckin’ want, baby.”

You mewled softly, thighs falling open further till you felt his calloused palms halt your movements entirely, he grasped the outside of your thighs, pushing them towards your chest. “Grab onto those for me and don’t let ‘em go.” He rasped.

You did as you were told, grabbing onto the underside of your thighs and kept your knees pressed against your chest.

“Good girl.” He preened, “how do you feel about us filmin’ this, baby love? You want that?”

“Fuck, yes, please daddy.” You didn’t even take a second to think through your answer. It was an immediate and eager yes.

He snapped his fingers, glancing over his shoulder at his brother. “Make yourself useful and grab my camera off the charger, Tommy.”

Tommy muttered something unintelligible under his breath, fighting the urge to flick his brother off as he went to grab the camera. He situated himself alongside Joel, turning the camera on and wasted no time to zoom in between your thighs just as a drool of slick dripped down from your hole.

“See that? She’s drippin’ for me. That ain’t for you.” Joel snarked.

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll see how long that lasts.” Tommy quipped back.

The rules to the competition were simple, whoever made you cum first with just their mouths alone, would get to fuck you first. No hands, no toys, just some good ole fashion pussy eating. Joel did already have an advantage considering he knew your body like it was the back of his hand, but that didn’t rule Tommy out completely.

The prospect of the two Miller brothers beefing over you had you giggling at their competitive nature, but when you felt Joel drag his tongue from your hole and up your slit to your clit, your giggles quickly turned to soft moans. Unlike Tommy, Joel liked to take his time savoring you on his tongue. He suckled your clit between his lips, dark brown eyes peering up at you between thick lashes. He gently rolled the nub between his teeth, the sensation sent your eyes rolling back into your skull, a broken cry breaching your parted lips.

“Those are the sounds I fuckin’ love to hear from ya, baby love.” He murmured against your mound, pulling his face back to spit on your clit again, “can’t wait to fuck your sweet little needy pussy when I’m finished with ya.”

You clenched from his words, lips moving, but no coherent words left your mouth. Of course once he was really getting into it, Tommy got impatient, pushing Joel out of the way in a similar fashion that was done to him.

“My turn.” He nearly snapped as he placed the camera in Joel’s hands. “Drop your thighs for me babygirl, and spread ‘em nice and wide.” He wrapped his arms around your middle, big hands splayed across your stomach to keep you pinned down in his hold. He shot you a wink between your thighs before he got to work, using his tongue to fuck your little hole before dragging it up to your clit, flicking it at a faster pace than his brother.

When Joel felt like Tommy had enough, he forced his way right back in, pushing his brother out of the way and this time the camera ended up in your hands where you shakily filmed from your own POV while Joel brought one of your thighs over his shoulder for easier access. His mouth was becoming more aggressive, your sharp cries alerting him that you were close and he could nearly taste his victory on the horizon. This time, Tommy had nearly shoved Joel off the bed completely resulting in the two men to snap at one another between your thighs like two feral dogs fighting over a piece of meat.

The sight alone had you seeing stars behind your eyes. You let out a surprised yelp when Joel had manhandled you onto your stomach, causing you to nearly drop the camera when he pried your thighs apart with his thick fingers and buried his face between them. The slurping sounds his mouth was making was nothing short of obscene as he shook his head back and forth, his beard scraped against your inner thighs as you arched your back and ass into his face.

“O—oh fuck! Joel! FUCK!” You cried out, thighs beginning to tremble and quiver, the coil in your stomach was pulled impossibly tight and threatening to snap at any given moment.

“That’s it, baby love. Good fuckin’ girl. Want you to come all over daddy’s face. You know who the winner is, sweet girl. It’s your fuckin’ daddy.” He growled possessively against your pussy as you rocked your hips back against his face.

He pulled back from between your thighs with a triumphant smirk plastered on his face at the sight of your release slowly dripping from your hole and down the inside of your thigh. He reached around for the camera, gently removing it from your hands and brought it up close to your leaking pussy, “fuckin’ look at that. Drippin’ all over the goddamn sheets, baby love.” He preened.

“Guess I shoulda thought about eating her out from behind before you did, huh brother?” Tommy snorted alongside him, leaning over to grab both of your cheeks and spread them open so they both could see your pussy slowly pulse and push out another trail of slick.

“I—I need a minute.” You breathed out and slowly let your stomach come to rest along the comforter as you caught your breath, letting your eyes flutter shut.

Joel flipped the camera off, setting it off to the side of the bed before he crawled up alongside you, Tommy settled in behind you while Joel gently lifted your face from the comforter to rest it along his lap. He stroked your cheek with the back of his knuckles while Tommy was nuzzling his face against the nape of your neck, pressing a few kisses to your skin while his hand curved around your ass, gently massaging the plump flesh between his fingers.

“That—that was something.” You finally spoke again, glancing up at Joel while his fingers were now giving your head a gentle massage, blunt nails scratching at your scalp in a soothing motion.

“We know, baby love. You did so good for us.” Joel cooed, “We don’t have to do anything else tonight if you just wanna rest.”

“No—no. I want you both to fuck me.” You shook your head, curling your fingers around his bare knee, “and the rules were that whoever makes me cum first gets to fuck me first. So, daddy. What are you waiting for?”

“Mmm.” He hummed, “baby love, you’re truly jus’ the sweetest thing. Ain’t she, Tommy?”

“Mhm” Tommy rumbled behind you, his fingers had slipped down between your cheeks, gently gliding his fingers through your slick folds to keep you stimulated. “She sure is a sweet thing.”

“How about you give him a little bit of sugar while daddy goes and sets up the cameras. How’s that sound, baby love? I bet he would love it if you sucked his cock. Give him a little bit of lovin.’”

You lazily grinned up at him before slowly sitting up and glanced over your shoulder at Tommy. “You were a close second.” You reassured him and reached behind you to palm him through his shorts, “Joel’s right, you deserve a little bit of sugar, too.”

“Thanks, babygirl, but Joel had me beat from the start.” He chuckled, “M’never one to turn down receiving a bit of sugar.” He grinned, shooting you a playful wink as he slipped his hand out from between your thighs and rolled over onto his back to shimmy his shorts down over his hips.

You stayed resting on your stomach, ankles crossed behind your head, as you scooted southwards along the bed. His cock sprung free, gently slapping against his stomach. His pubes, including his balls, were shaved completely compared to Joel. A small detail that you didn’t notice the first time you and Tommy fucked. You wrapped your fist around the base of his cock, giving the soft, velvety skin a few slow tugs before you leaned over and left a few kitten licks across his tip. He let out a soft grunt of approval, tilting his head back as you slipped the crown of his cock past your lips, sucking sweetly on it.

Joel was preoccupied with maneuvering himself around the room, setting up multiple cameras and messing with the lighting and such.

“Christ, brother.” Tommy sharply inhaled. “Your girl sure has a sweet mouth on her, fuck.”

“Mhm. She sure does. Best head I’ve ever fuckin’ had.” Joel mused, setting up the final camera to face the bed on the side that you were laying on. Once the camera was set, he leaned over the side of the bed, thumb gently brushing across your cheekbone. Even with your mouth stuffed with Tommy’s cock, he could tell you were smiling.

“Bein’ such a good sweet lil’ cockslut for Tommy. Ain’t ya, baby love? Probably s’a nice break for your pretty throat.” He snickered.

All you could do was dumbly nod at his question, taking Tommy’s cock deeper down your throat as he let out a deep grunt, thick fingers curling around the crown of your head. “Fuck, yeah. Such a pretty sight gettin’ to watch your girl suck on my cock like this.” He gently pressed down on your head, silently encouraging you to take more of him down your throat till your nose was pressing against his pubic bone, “seriously, could just lay here for fuckin’ hours.”

Joel fought the urge to roll his eyes at his brothers goading as he leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to the back of your head, whispering, “suckin’ on his cock so prettily, got daddy here nearly leakin’ through his shorts.”

He pulled back slowly, addressing his brother directly, “yeah, well, you ain’t about to steal away all the fun from me, Tommy.” He snipped.

You whimpered softly around Tommy’s cock, drool pooling around the corners of your mouth as you gagged around him, giving yourself a moment to breathe as you slowly pulled your mouth off from his cock with a wet pop!

“Relax, Joel.” Tommy chided, “I wouldn’t dream of takin’ that away from you.”

“C’mere, daddy.” You beckoned him sweetly as you sat up on your knees, scooting over to the edge of the bed as you reached for the hem of his shorts, “wanna gag on your cock again. Get it all nice and wet before you fuck me.” You grasped the hem of his shorts, pulling the elastic back before letting it playfully snap against his hips.

Your eagerness to please him sent blood flowing southwards between his thighs as he leaned over and grasped your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, tilting it upwards so you were looking up at him. “Yeah, baby love? That’s what my eager little cockslut wants, is daddy's cock stuffed down her pretty little throat?” He mused, lips curving into a grin as his thumb gently swiped through a stray strand of drool that was glistening on the corner of your lips.

You nodded dumbly, eyes bright, nearly twinkling under his gaze as you reached for the hem of his shorts once more, leaning in closer, “yeah, daddy.” You cooed, “I want to suck on yours and Tommy’s cock…at the same time. I want to be a good little cockslut for both of you. Do you want that, too?”

It was at that moment that Joel fucking Miller not only forgot his own name, but his birthday and his age. His brain short-circuited, pulse rushing fast in his ears. He nodded, swallowing hard as he regained his composure, “y-yeah.” He stuttered, “fuck—yeah, baby love.”

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Tommy snickered. “You damn near broke my brother, babygirl.”

Something indescribable flashes across your lover's eyes when you teasingly pull his hard cock free, beckoning him to come closer with a simple curl of your fingers, and that devious glint in your eyes.

“Get to it then.” He snips, surprisingly both you and himself at his sudden change of tone.

Tommy immediately picks up on the obvious shift in the room, and opts to fall into his submissive role beneath his brother. When he opens his mouth to speak, Joel shushes him.

“No. You ain’t gettin’ outta this. She wants to suck both our cocks like a good fuckin’ slut and that’s what she’s gonna do, and then I’m goin’ split her apart with my fuckin’ cock and you’re gonna watch and patiently wait for your turn.”

“Daddy—” you start, but Joel isn’t having any of it when he bends over to the side of the bed where you’re sitting back on your thighs looking up at him expectantly. His big, meaty hand comes to grasp your chin, yanking your head upwards as he leans down further, asserting his dominance, “zip it, baby love. Don’t wanna hear a peep from you. Jus’ the pretty sounds your mouth makes when you’re chokin’ on daddy’s cock, you got that?”

“Yes—”

He shakes his head, applying a bit of pressure to your jaw, causing your eyes to widen slightly. “What did I just fuckin’ say? Not a peep. Nod your head if you understand what daddy’s sayin’ to ya.”

You dumbly nod your head in tandem, squeezing your thighs together from his authoritative nature taking over.

“Atta girl. That’s a good cockslut. Now, open up that pretty mouth for daddy and put it to some good fuckin’ use, baby love.”

Your mouth falls open on command, and maybe a bit of shock as well. You’d be lying if you said that you didn’t want to see Joel’s dominant side more often. You loved when he called you a slut, his slut, his whore, his to take. Did this make you a bit of a masochist? Maybe, but that meant fuck all to you when you obediently stuck your tongue out, awaiting his cock.

A satisfied smirk crossed his handsome features at your willingness to obey. It had been years since his time at Brazzers, and even in Miller-Co his partners before you preferred sex with him to be vanilla, and sometimes he would sprinkle in a little dash of dominance, but nothing quite like the display he was putting on now. A phase of him that once laid dormant, was quickly reawakening right before your very eyes. As if a switch inside of him was flipped on, whirring to life.

He grasped the base of his heavy cock between his fist, guiding the fat cockhead to rest along your tongue.

“Wider.” He rasps as he slowly begins to feed you his cock, watching tears spring to the corner of your eyes when he forces you to stretch your jaw further around the thick girth of him. “That’s it.” He preens, “you can fuckin’ take it. You can take all of me down that pretty little throat. Gonna have you chokin’ and droolin’ all over daddy’s fat fuckin’ cock, baby love.”

his freehand comes to rest along the back of your head, nails scraping at your scalp when the tip of his cock nudges the back of your throat. You gag around him, drool leaking from the edges of your stretched mouth as you try to pull back for air, but he doesn’t allow you. “No.” He sternly chides, brows furrowed as he looks down at you, “Breathe through your nose, baby love. You’re doin’ so good for daddy.” A brief moment of softness, and a reminder to you that you were safe. This wasn’t Brazzers, this was your Joel.

Your nostrils flare at his words, tears beginning to spill over your waterline, not due to being in any physical pain, but more-so for the fact that this is an incredibly intense moment for you both to be experiencing.

“That’s it.” He coos, “relax your jaw. Relax, baby love. You’re safe.” He loosens his grip around your head, tenderly stroking your hair in a soothing motion. “That’s my girl.”

Tommy captures the whole thing on camera. From your drool trailing down your chin and throat, to the girth of his cock stretching your mouth open, to the way that you and Joel are looking at one another through your tears. An intense gaze that neither party breaks. You’ve never trusted anyone in your life like you trust your Joel.

You breathe through the discomfort, dragging your nose through the thatch of curls at the base of his cock, lashes fluttering, eyes rolling back when he slowly juts his hips into your face in a gentle rocking motion. He does this for a few thrusts before he finally releases you, slipping his cock out of your mouth as you gasp for air.

His big palms come to rest along your cheeks, wiping away your tears and shushing you with soft praises. Just as he expected, you’re hungry for more, feeling a newfound confidence wash over you as you reach for both of their cocks. The two brothers exchange a brief glance at one another as you take Tommy’s cock into your mouth, wrapping your fist around Joel’s cock to keep him stimulated.

What a sight you are, sitting prettily on your knees, eyes still glassy from the tears you shed around Joel’s cock. Tommy holds the camera between his hands, getting a close up of your mouth working around him, staring directly into the lens with that sultry gaze. Your pussy is drooling for attention, pulsing at the prospect of getting fucked very, very soon.

The room is heady and coated in a fine layer of sex-induced haze that hangs around the three of you like a cloak. Joel is the first to make a move when he feels that you’ve had enough of Tommy’s cock down your throat and pulls you back to him.

You can’t deny how much you’re enjoying being a little fuck toy for the two Miller Brothers, your throat now stuffed full of Joel’s cock as your fist works around Tommy’s. When you feel like you need a breather, you slip Joel’s cock from your mouth, a translucent thread of saliva dangles from the tip of his cock all the way to your glistening lips.

Now with one hand around Tommy, and one hand around Joel, you rub their cock heads all over your cheeks, lightly slapping yourself with the smooth velvet skin with a cockdrunk look plastered all over your pretty face.

“That’s it. That’s the fuckin’ shot of the century right there.” Tommy chuckles, “we got ourselves the prettiest little cockslut on her knees for us, brother.”

“My cockslut.” Joel doesn’t hesitate to correct him. “My pretty little cockslut who is gonna be stuffed fuckin’ full of daddy’s cum soon.” He rasps, shooting you a subtle wink from above.

Your eyes roll back from his words, spreading your knees further apart in a desperate attempt to grind your pussy along the mattress for any form of relief. You’re aching for any attention, and your Joel revels in the sight of you looking like this.

“Please, Daddy. Please.” Are the only words you’re able to get out as you roll your hips against the mattress.

“Please what, baby love? Look at you,” he coos, “filthy lil’ thing rubbing your sweet cunt all over the mattress like a fuckin’ desperate cockslut. Need your pussy stuffed that bad, baby? S’that it? Need daddy’s cock so bad?”

Oh.

You didn’t expect your Joel to be so…mean and condescending, but you welcomed it eagerly with a swift nod of your head.

“‘Atta girl.” He smirks. “Now, drop Tommy’s cock, baby love and come to daddy.” He demands, curling one of his broad fingers at his side in a come hither motion.

You work on autopilot, dropping Tommy’s cock from your grasp and focusing all your attention on Joel.

“Fuckin’ spit on it, baby love. Spit all over daddy’s fat cock and get it nice and wet for me with that pretty mouth of yours. Don’t think we’re gonna need extra lubrication with the way your pussy is droolin’ all over the goddamn mattress.” He snickers. “But just for the hell of it.”

You waste no time to spit a glob of saliva all over his fat cockhead, watching in a transfixed gaze when he wraps his own fist around himself, smearing in your saliva with his precum. “Good girl, baby love. S’good for daddy. M’gonna reward you now, okay?”

You nod expectantly, briefly glancing over at Tommy who is leisurely stroking his own cock to keep himself hard and stimulated while he would patiently wait his turn to fuck you after his brother.

“Thank you, daddy.” You let out a relieved sigh thinking that he finally was going to give you his cock and stretch you open.

“Wouldn’t go thankin’ me so soon, baby love. Haven’t given ya nothin’ yet.” He reminds you with a stern look that sends your heart racing. “Now, on your back for me. Spread your thighs so daddy can see that pretty soaked pussy. Wanna see all of her.”

There’s a soreness and slight ache in your jaw that you haven’t felt in years up until now. Remnants of your tears stained your cheeks in a salty trail. Joel can see the gears turning in your head, the flicker of emotions behind your eyes. You’re not afraid…it’s more of an apprehension if anything as you reach one hand up to gently rub the soreness in your jaw.

Joel clocks in on your discomfort, glancing over at his brother before he leans over and murmurs something to him. Tommy nods in understanding, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and pads out of the room, his heavy cock bobbing between his thighs.

“Baby love, you doin’ okay?” Joel softly asks as his hands gently slide up the expanse of your thighs, easing you onto your back. “…Am I bein’ too much? Baby, I can dial it back, okay? I shoulda—”

“Joel.” You sigh softly, meeting his softened and concerned gaze, “I’m okay, baby. I’m just…feeling a lot right now.”

“I can tell.” He nods in understanding. “Can see it in your eyes, my sweet girl. That’s why we’re gonna take a breather.”

You attempt to sit up on your elbows, feeling shame creep its way up your spine. You’re afraid now, afraid that you’ve disappointed him so soon. That silly brain of yours can be so fucking mean sometimes and you truly wish that you could just turn it off, especially in a moment like this.

“No—no, it’s fine, Joel. I’m fine.” You weakly argue, attempting to put up a façade that he immediately sees right through.

“You ain’t, and that’s okay. I can see the fuckin’ gears whirring in your brain right now, baby.” His argument is soft spoken, not meant to further upset you as his fingers gently play with the tuft of damp curls above your mound.

“I just…I don’t want to disappoint you, okay? I know it seems silly, but I just feel so fucking vulnerable right now.” There’s a moment of relief and weight lifted off your shoulders when you finally put your feelings into words. You’re half expecting a snarky remark with a clipped tone. He can feel you tense up, thighs growing stiff as an unpleasant shiver runs down your spine.

“If you think that this is about to turn into a therapy session where you make everyone in the room to take pity on you, you’re dead fucking wrong, girl. You honestly think your feelings matter? They don’t. Not in this industry, and you knew this when you signed up. No one here is gonna wipe your tears, so I suggest you wipe them yourself and suck it up. You want to get paid, don’t you? Good. The sooner you quit your whining, the sooner you can ice your jaw.”

You can hear the director at Brazzers snapping in your ear now after you tapped out from a gangbang scene that got too intense. Making you feel worse than you already do. But you were young, fresh to the industry and you thought that maybe you could handle it, but the truth was…you couldn’t.

Joel’s eye begins to twitch, his hand on your thigh flexes, knuckles growing tight when he imagines the degradation and cruelty you faced at Brazzers. It split his heart right down the middle, tearing it by the seams when he hears the pain in your tone, and your fear that you have disappointed him. This couldn’t be further from the truth; you could never disappoint him.

“Baby love, you could never disappoint me, okay? Never. Not in a million fuckin’ years. You just being here in this moment with me, is all I can ever ask for, okay? If you’re feeling scared right now, I need you to tell me. If I’m being too much, too aggressive, too dominant, please tell me, okay?”

“My jaw just really fucking hurts.” You blurt out, masking your words with a forced laugh.

“I know it does, baby. Tommy’s getting you some ice, okay? We don’t have to do that again.”

You sit up finally, grasping him by his broad shoulders and pull him up your body so he’s straddling your hips. “I’m not scared, Joel. You’re not being too much, okay? I actually really love to see this dominant side of you, baby.” You press a sweet kiss to his lips. “I want to do that again because I trust you, and want to have these experiences with you.”

“…You do?” He sounds unsure of himself as he kisses you back, winding his arms around your waist as he gently lifts you into his lap, his cock is still hard and wedged between your stomachs. “I won’t dial it back then, but I just want you to know that I’m not going to push you past your limits, but I will always encourage you to go further because I know that you can. I think back to when we first met and you were so fuckin’ scared over how I would react to the list of things that you were uncomfortable doing, and how from that point forward, i’ve wanted to show you that those painful, and fucked up experiences at Brazzers can be turned into something…liberating for you.” He murmurs, tightening his grip around you.

“Baby, I think it’s so fucking sexy that you’re becoming more familiar and comfortable with your dominate side. I like calling you daddy, and I’m really into you calling me a little cockslut and whatever else that dirty mind of yours conjures up. Joel, I feel so safe with you. The safest I have ever felt with any partner. You inspire me to be more open, to feel less shameful of my feelings and dealing with my trauma. You’re literally my fucking rock, you know that?”

Before your Joel can even process your genuine words and utter out a reply, Tommy has returned, clearing his throat to make his presence known as he leans against the doorjamb with a bag of frozen peas in his hand. “Hey, princess.” He cracks a comforting grin, “couldn’t find an ice pack, but I figured frozen peas would do the trick? Oh, and you’re insanely fucking good at deepthroating—my god.” He gushes earnestly.

You stifle a giggle, looking over Joel’s shoulder. “You’re not just saying that to fuck with me, right Tommy? Am I really that good?”

He laughs, pushing himself off the side of the door before he joins the two of you on the bed. “Babygirl, I am a man who never lies. You’re head game is un-fucking-real.”

“He’s right, baby love. You were chokin’ on daddy’s cock like a pro.” Joel adds with a reassuring smile. “M’so proud of you, baby love. Always so proud of my girl.”

You feel the heat bloom over your cheeks at both of their praises as your confidence slowly begins to return. You press a chaste kiss to Joel’s lips before reaching over his shoulder for the bag of peas.

Joel kisses you back, keeping you secured in his arms as you ice the sore spot on your jaw. Both he and Tommy are beyond considerate and patient and you truly couldn’t be anymore grateful than you feel right now.

Once the soreness in your jaw has considerably dissipated, you hand the now half frozen peas back to Tommy and wind your hand through the back of Joel’s sweaty curls, kissing him with more conviction, “okay, daddy. I’m ready for you to split me open with your cock now. I can take it, I want to take it. Want you to give me your worst.” You mumble against his lips, feeling his cock jump between your pressed bodies from your lewd verbiage.

“Oh, daddy’s gonna give you his fuckin’ worst, alright.” He growls, kissing you deeper while his hands slide under your ass, squeezing the soft flesh of your cheeks firmly. “Gonna make you beg for daddy’s cock, baby love.”

The room feels hot, ten times hotter than it’s ever felt as Joel purposely edges you with his cock, pressing the girth of him inside of you before he draws his hips back out. You’re a sobbing, blubbering mess, soaked in sweat. Each time he thrusts into you, his cockhead punches your cervix and it’s a torturous pattern that leaves your thighs quivering at the angle they’re spread at.

Tommy is kneeled behind your head, camera between his hands again while your hand is wrapped loosely around his cock, stroking it at an erratic pace as your back bows from the mattress, hips rolling forward to meet Joel’s periodic thrusts.

“D—daddy, please! Please—fuck.” You let out a whine. You sound so desperate, so needy to come, and you’re right where Joel wants you.

“Aw cute.” He coos in a condescending tone, “You think you’re just gonna get what you want jus’ cus’ you asked daddy so nicely? That’s not how this works, baby love. You’re gonna take whatever daddy fuckin’ gives ya, and you’re gonna act grateful for daddy’s cock.”

“Better listen to him, babygirl.” Tommy warns you from above. “Think you mighta bruised his ego earlier.”

Your eyes flit upwards to meet Tommy’s smirking gaze before they land back on Joel, right down to where he has one hand gripping the inside of your thigh, keeping it pressed open to his liking, and the other rests around the base of his cock. He’s only rewarding you with half of his girth, pulling out completely when he feels your pussy clench down around him. He knows you’re so fucking close, and yet he refuses to allow you the satisfaction to come.

“But—but daddy!” You sob, “you said you weren’t upset with me for saying that Tommy might have you beat! Daddy, please! I’m sorry! Please just let your good girl come.” You begged him.

“Yeah, well, daddy might have lied earlier, baby love. Daddy’s ego is a little bruised over the fact that his perfect girl would even think that Tommy can eat her sweet little pussy better than I can.” He chuckles, eyes casting downwards to your tight little hole pulsing around air as he rubs his wet cockhead all over your puffy clit. “You misunderstood, baby love. Daddy isn’t upset, he’s just a little…angry s’all.”

Your eyes roll back from the sensation, letting out another pathetic sob when he taps his cockhead a few times against your already sensitive clit causing your hips to jolt upwards. “Daddy, I’m so sorry! Please, daddy. I promise I’ll be a good little cockslut for you! I’ll never make a silly comment like that again! You’re the best, daddy.”

“Oh, baby.” He sighs, almost as if he does pity you, “I don’t think you are sorry at all, baby love. And I don’t think you’re grateful for daddy’s cock and what he’s giving you.” He tuts, shaking his head. “Tommy, do you think she’s bein’ grateful right now?”

“Not at all, brother. She’s bein’ an ungrateful little slut.” He taps the side of your cheek with his cock. “So fuckin’ ungrateful.”

“No—no! That’s not true! Daddy, I am so grateful for your cock! I am!” You try to sound convincing, but Joel is unimpressed.

“Thas’ all Y’got for me, baby love? Mmm. I think you need a little encouragement.” He decides as he slips his cock back into your tight, hugging warmth all the way to the hilt. Punching the air from your lungs as you gasp his name.

Your words come out fragmented and broken when he suddenly draws his hips back and thrusts them forward without warning, knocking your body back against the mattress. He does this again, and again. Each thrust increases in speed till he’s jackhammering you into the mattress, shaking the frame against the wall with how much force he’s exerting. His one hand stays firmly clamped around your thigh while the other is splayed against your mound, thumb firmly pressed into your clit, working it in fast, vigorous circles.

“Tell daddy that you’re grateful for his cock, baby love! Tell him that you’re grateful for everything that he’s givin’ you! Cause if you don’t? Daddy will pull out right now, and you don’t fuckin’ get to come.” His voice is gravelly, scratching your eardrums just right with how primal he sounds.

“I—I’m so grateful for your cock, daddy! S-so grateful! Thank you, daddy! Thank you!”

“Yeah, thas’ right, baby love. Thas’ fuckin’ right. Perfect little cockslut is so-so grateful for her daddy’s cock. Fuck yeah, you are.” He grunts deeply, giving you one last solid thrust before he slips out completely. You don’t even get a chance to recover before you’re being flipped over onto your stomach by a new set of hands.

Tommy grips you firmly by the hips, yanking your ass upwards as your face falls flat against the mattress. He fists his cock a few times and uses his thumb and forefinger to guide his cock into you, watching the way your body immediately sucks him until his length is fully inside of you and his hips are firmly pressed against your ass. “Always such a tight fuckin’ fit, babygirl.” He preens as he draws his hips back before thrusting them forward.

Your mouth falls open into an ‘o’ shape, eyes glazed over and blissed out completely. Joel watches from behind the camera as Tommy grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks your head backwards, forcing you to push yourself up on your forearms.

Joel intently watches the way your ass recoils against Tommy’s hips with each heavy, skin slapping thrust that he delivers you. His voice is still commanding, even when he’s not directly next to you.

“You take his cock so well, baby love. Fuckin’ love seein’ you gettin’ fucked like this. You gonna come all over his cock? Yeah, you are. Only when daddy tells you too, right?”

Your head snaps over in his direction, a fucked out smile tugging across your lips when you meet his gaze, “y—yes, daddy. Only when you tell me too.”

“Thas’ it. There’s my good little obedient cockslut.” He grins proudly, even giving you a cheeky little thumbs up before you're lost in the moment all over again. And when Joel gives you the permission to come, you’re gushing around Tommy’s cock on command. You don’t moan Tommy’s name, however. Oh, no. The only words you can form are daddy.

Tommy slips out, letting your body flop to the mattress like a limp fish before his hands pry your cheeks apart so he can watch your release pulse and drool down the seam of your pussy. He moves out of the way when Joel approaches the bed and hands the camera off to his brother before his calloused hands are gently maneuvering you onto your back.

“Baby love, I wanna try somethin’ with you, okay? Are you up for it, or is my girl positively fucked out now?” He asks teasingly, gently pinching your hips between his fingers.

You let out a squeal, lazily moving to swat his hands away when he pinches your skin. “Mmm…I’m so fucked out right now, daddy, but what do you want to try?”

He drops his hands from your hips and rests them between the apex of your thighs so his thumbs can spread your inner lips open, “wanna make you squirt, baby love. I know you were told before that you couldn’t, but that’s not true. You can, and I’m going to get you there but only if you want to, okay?”

“Y—you want to make me squirt? Daddy…I—I can’t. They told me I couldn’t and I believed them. I love you, I really do. But I can’t.”

“Baby love, you can. The only reason why you couldn’t before is because there was a mental block you were facing. You weren’t with the right people at the time. It wasn’t even your fault that you were fired, okay? Those fuckwads didn’t care enough to cater to your needs, but I’m here. I want you to experience this because it’s so fuckin’ special, baby. It’s nothing you’ve ever felt before.” Joel reassures you.

“And I’m gonna be your personal cheerleader, babygirl. Gonna hype you up the whole time, okay?” Tommy says from behind the camera, kneeling on the opposite side of where Joel is positioned between your thighs. “You can even hold my hand, if ya want.” He adds gently.

“What if you’re wrong, daddy? What if I truly can’t? What if they were right and—”

“Shh.” He says softly, eyes locking onto yours in a gentle yet intense stare, “they weren’t right, baby love. They were just a bunch of jackasses that couldn’t see your potential like I can. And you know what? This ain’t about me. This is about you gaining back your autonomy that they fuckin’ stole from you. You trust me, don’t you? Let me do this for you, please.”

“Joel.” Your voice waivers, fresh brewing tears threatening to spill over, Of course I trust you. I—I want to prove them wrong. I want to prove myself wrong.”

“That’s my girl. That’s my fuckin’ girl.” He preens.

It starts off with just two of his fingers; middle and ring finger knuckle deep, curling and shallowly thrusting inside of you. It’s not enough, but Joel doesn’t give up. He orders Tommy to grab one of your favorite toys, a hitachi wand. Joel uses his freehand to turn it to the lowest setting before gently placing it directly against your clit. The sensation is immediately too much and your body is naturally trying to escape, but Joel keeps your hips centered and on the mattress.

“I got you, baby love, daddy’s got you. You’re doing so good for me already. So-so fuckin’ good.”

You’re a mess of moans, a mixture of dripping profanities as you claw at the sheets, feeling your thighs begin to quiver and shake all over again. The feeling is more intense, more real than anything you have felt in this setting before. The coil in your stomach is pulled tighter, and tighter, and tighter.

Tommy reaches for one of your hands, letting your clammy fingers interlock through his as you grip onto him for dear life.

“I—can’t, daddy! It’s too much! Please—it’s too much!” You sob, tears making their way down your cheeks for what feels like the millionth time tonight. You’re surely going to need to hydrate extra after this.

“Yes you can, baby love! You can! I believe in you, Tommy believes in you. You’re so fuckin’ close I can feel it now. Can’t you? The burning hot coil being pulled tight in your tummy? Can’t you feel that?” He asks over the whir and buzz of the vibrator and the wet squelch of your pussy around his fingers, crooking them inwards. Your hips jolt, and you let out a scream that hopefully Joel’s neighbors can’t hear. It’s a scream not of pain, but relief, releasing all of your self-doubt and negativity that you had felt ever since you were wrongfully fired from Brazzers.

Joel Miller was showing you just how fucking amazing your body was, and the limits it could be pushed to. He was proving to you that there wasn’t anything you possibly couldn’t do. No challenge you couldn’t face. Fuck what Brazzers thought about you, or the judgement from your parents and the societal pressure you faced every single day as a woman. Your body was beautiful, powerful, and capable.

“There you go, baby! There you go!” Your Joel announced in excitement, his heart swelling with nothing but pride for his baby love. “Let go, my girl. You’re safe. I’ve got you.” He promised, crooking his fingers faster till he felt your body spasm, and a gush of wet spray coated his hand, forearm and everywhere in between.

Your ears were ringing, mind going fuzzy and Joel’s and Tommy’s voices sounded muffled as you saw stars dot your vision. Once your body started, you couldn’t stop even after Joel slipped his fingers out of you and tossed the vibrator off to the side, your pussy continued to squirt along the mattress till there was nothing left.

He was right, Joel was always right. Squirting for the first time was like nothing you had experienced before, and it felt so fucking liberating.

You faintly felt his warm lips between your thighs, lips suckling on your clit before they kissed their way up your body. Your eyes were half open when his hands cradled your face between them, thumbs stroking and brushing away your free falling tears. “You did it, my girl. I knew you could do it.” He whispered, sweat slick forehead pressed against your own, “m’so fuckin’ proud of you, baby love. So proud.”

Tommy flipped the camera off, setting it down on the nearby table before he left the room to give you and Joel a moment of privacy, and to grab some much deserved refreshments and snacks.

Joel gently eased you into his lap, letting you melt into his arms as you let out a wet sob with your face buried into the juncture of his neck. Your whole body was shaking as you clawed at his back while his strong hands gently rubbed soothing circles into your skin. “Shh, shh. It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. Let it all out. I got you.” He murmured against your sweat soaked hair as he held you close.

“Did I really…?” You murmured into his neck, loosening your grip around him.

“You did, baby love. You did so well.” He whispered, gently beginning to rock you in his arms to further soothe you as you gradually came down from your high.

“Thank you, daddy. I-I love you so much.” You sniffled, pulling your face back from his neck so you could look into his eyes.

“No need to thank me, baby love. That was all you. I was jus’ there to help get you there. I love you so much, my sweet girl.”

You shook your head, disagreeing with his sentiment but before you could speak, he shushed you with a kiss. How could you really argue with him, then?

Tommy returned with three waters and a candy bar for you, flopping down on the bed with a soft oof.

The three of you sat in a comfortable silence while Joel made sure you were hydrated and even fed you small pieces of the candy bar so that you wouldn’t immediately have a sugar crash.

The two brothers exchanged a murmur of words before Joel untangled your limbs from his own and coaxed you up from the bed. He stayed glued to your side as he guided you to the bathroom and all the way into the shower. He made sure the temperature of the stream was just how you liked it.

He gently washed between your thighs, knowing how sensitive you were still feeling and didn’t want to overdo it. You loved that he was always so adamant on aftercare. It might have actually been his favorite part outside of being connected inside of your body. He loved to provide and take care of you in these especially intimate moments.

“How’s my girl feeling?” He asked with a soft rasp under the warm stream.

“Like I’m floating on a cloud.” You giggled softly, winding your arms around his neck. “My pussy feels a little numb though, I’m not gonna lie.”

“Mmm.” He hummed, wrapping his arms around you with his hands resting gently at your lower back, “that’s to be expected. She took a real poundin’ tonight. You’re gonna sleep like a fuckin’ baby soon.” He added with a warm chuckle.

“Fuck.” You laughed, “don’t I know it. I can probably sleep for days after that.”

“Tommy is outside startin’ a fire for us. Told him to grab one of my joints from the garage. I Figured you’d enjoy decompressing after all that.” He reached one hand up to gently rest it along the side of your head as he pulled you in closer.

“You know me too well, daddy. That sounds absolutely perfect to me.”

He grins boyishly at your response, leaning in to brush his lips against yours. “I’ll meet y’all down there in a bit, okay? Gonna finish up here and strip the sheets.”

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks when he mentioned the now soiled sheets as your teeth briefly knocked together in the wet kiss. “Sorry about that…I didn’t think it would be that much.”

“Ain’t nothin’ to be sorry for. They’re just sheets, baby love. No need to worry.” He reassured you, deepening the kiss briefly before he slowly pulled away.

“I still can’t believe I was actually able to squirt. It feels so fucking validating that after all these years I now know that I never was the problem. I cannot thank you enough for showing me that they were wrong, Joel. I—I wish I had the words to explain how grateful I am for you.”

“Of course they were wrong, baby love. They never deserved you in the first place. You don’t need to explain how grateful you are, okay? I feel it…here.” He reaches for your hand, gently placing it along the left side of his chest, right against his heart.

“You’re going to make me cry again, asshole!” You said playfully, kissing him again just because you could.

He laughed into your lips, bringing his freehand to rest around your face as he kissed you again, and again, and again. “I’m jus’ speaking the truth, baby love.”

“I know, baby. You’re the most honest man I know. Well, outside of Tommy.”

You and Joel part ways after showering. He heads back into the studio room while you walk to your shared bedroom to change into something comfy for the rest of the evening. You snatch one of his hoodies, slipping it over your head before grabbing a fresh pair of his boxer briefs and pull them on over your hips and ass.

When you step outside into the backyard, Tommy is already puffing away on the joint he rolled while he uses a spare stick to stoke the fire. He smiled warmly at you, beckoning you over to join him on the outdoor couch.

“There she is. Lil’ miss squirtin’ queen!” He teases as you plop down beside him, giving his shoulder a gentle push.

He passes the joint off to you between his fingers, letting his arm rest behind your head along the back of the couch. “How are ya feeling?”

“Honestly?” You look over at him as you take a long drag, tucking your feet up under your thighs to get comfortable, “I feel like I can conquer the whole fucking world right now.”

“Fuck yeah, you can! Women are soo fucking powerful, babygirl. Y’all are truly some forces to be reckoned with!”

You blow the smoke upwards into the clear night sky, resting your head against his shoulder before passing the joint back to him. “I just feel so…free right now Tommy, y’know? I don’t even know how to put it into words.”

“Girl, you literally soaked the entire fuckin’ mattress. You should feel as free as a bird right now! I know Joel is proud of you, but I am too. I remember the first time I made a girl squirt waaay back in the good ole’ Brazzer’s days. Shit was so intense and the chick I was fuckin’ literally said that she was in love with me! Ain’t that crazy?”

“Aw, Tommy, thank you. I’m really glad that you were there to experience it with me. And shit, no way? Did you tell her that you loved her back?”

“Nah.” He shook his head, clearing his throat as he ashed the joint off to the side, “I uh—I really didn’t know what to say. Felt terrible after the fact because she started to profusely apologize…and I guess I didn’t understand why? I mean, it slipped out in the heat of the moment, man. I don’t think she meant it.”

I really hope she didn’t.

You sat up, focusing your attention on him fully when you could feel his tone shift to somewhere uncertain. “Hey, are you okay?…is there something you want to talk about? I’m here for you, okay?”

He let out a dry laugh shaking his head before he looked over at you finally. “Yeah, there is somethin’ I wanna talk to you about. I jus’ don’t know how to phrase it.”

“Take your time, Tommy. There’s no rush.”

“Okay so, Joel doesn’t know about this yet because I really don’t know how to tell him, but one of my long term onscreen partners is planning on quitting Miller-Co entirely…because of me.” Tommy nervously chewed on the inside of his cheek.

“Tommy, what do you mean someone at Miller-Co wants to quit because of you? What…happened?” Tommy was a good guy in your eyes. You couldn’t imagine him ever making someone feel uncomfortable or god forbid—

“It ain’t bad, okay? I promise I didn’t do anythin’ bad.” He took a deep breath, exhaling before continuing, “so, it started with her starting to make comments about you and Joel and the dynamic of your relationship. She didn’t say nothin’ bad, I promise. She er—was hintin’ that she wanted to be in a relationship with me essentially?”

“Oh.” You said softly, beginning to understand where this conversation was potentially leading into. “I’m assuming you didn’t feel the same way as she did?”

“No.” He sighed, shaking his head. “I didn’t feel the same way. I tried to explain to her that I have never felt a romantic connection to anyone ever and that I was sorry.”

“Wait…never?” You were careful with your choice of words, reading between the lines to figure out exactly what he was saying.

“You can’t tell Joel any of this, okay? I—I don’t know how to tell him, babygirl. I know he would never judge me but I’m jus’—afraid.”

You reach for his hand, interlocking your fingers together to show him that he had your full support. “Tommy, it’s okay. Your brother isn’t going to scold you for this.”

“No, you’re right, he won’t. Anyway, I tried to tell her that I never have had a crush on anyone in my life and I have never been in love. She thought I was just making an excuse! Why would I make an excuse like that? Doesn’t she realize that if I could feel the same way for her that I would already?” He said exasperatedly, waving his freehand around to emphasize the point he was trying to make.

“Tommy, are you…aromantic?” You asked suddenly.

A sheepish look washed over his face, his cheeks turning as red as the flames from the fire, “yeah, I am.” He mumbled quietly.

“Oh, hon. It’s okay, that’s nothing for you to feel ashamed for. You know that, right?” You squeezed his hand gently, stroking your thumb along the outside of his hand.

“Fuck, I know it’s nothing for me to feel ashamed about! I know—but, I feel that way regardless. She literally thinks I’m some cold, heartless prick now! We’ve literally been fucking consistently for over a year and I thought we had…y’know, developed a mutual friendship.”

“I understand, Tommy. But you are not some cold heartless prick. There’s nothing wrong with you. She just…doesn’t see it the way that you and I do.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He sighs, sinking back against the couch cushions as he looks into the flames, “you’re the first person that I’ve ever come out to. I mean, my other queer friends know that I’m bisexual, but no one knows that I’m aromantic as well.”

“I understand how you feel, okay? I really do. I’m bisexual, too. I’ve faced similar ridicule for it ever since I came out. I’ve had people tell me to my face that I’m either straight or gay and that I have to pick between the two? It’s fucking ridiculous. I can’t imagine what it’s like to be a queer man and feeling like there’s something wrong with you and the way that you live your life because of it.”

His lips part in shock as the joint dies between his fingers. He turns to face you completely, feeling a newfound sense of connection towards you that immediately springs tears to his eyes. “Wait, you’re queer too? I uh—I had a feeling, but I never want to be that person to assume, you know? When did you come out, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Yeah, hon. I’m queer too. And really? What gave me away?” You stifled a giggle, leaning further into his side. “I came out on my 21st birthday actually. My friends took me to my first gay bar in LA and I guess I just blurted it out after a few too many shots? Everyone was so fucking supportive. It brought me to tears! When did you come out?”

“Mmm.” He thought about it momentarily, tapping his fingers against his chin, “there wasn’t like a specific thing that gave you away, I just had this feeling when we first met that you were a fruity lil’ thing.” He laughed warmly. “I came out shortly after I flew out to LA to join Joel at Brazzers. I ended up dating one of my costars for a hot minute. He was my first boyfriend, but I didn’t really understand the whole concept of romance or how to make him feel like I loved him? Our breakup was pretty fuckin’ ugly. Told all his friends that I was a heartless tool and that was the end of that. Think I realized I was aromantic when I flat out told him that he was my best friend but my heart…didn’t get a boner for him? Poor choice of words, but I’ve never really been a serious guy to begin with.”

“Interesting.” You mused with a grin, “yeah, probably wasn’t the wisest move to tell him that your heart didn’t get a boner for him…but that was the only way that you felt you could explain it. Did you guys ever talk about it or reconnect?”

“Actually, yeah! We did. He texted me the other day actually to see how I was doing and we got into a conversation about it. He said it made a lot of sense and what not. I guess I’m just struggling with people not understanding that I’m still this…lovable guy, y’know? I just have never had any interest in love or being in love. Why’s that so hard for people to accept?”

“That’s great that you guys reconnected! Tommy, that’s wonderful! I think people have a problem with it because they want to place you into this perfect box so that you can blend in with the rest of society. They’re going to think you're weird because there’s this stigma around aromantic people being cold and heartless, when y’all are incredibly lovable people, just not in the romantic way.”

“Dude, tell me about it! Society is always telling us how we gotta act, dress, and live our lives! So fuckin’ fed up with it. You mentioned earlier how you can’t imagine how difficult it must be to be a queer man, and you hit the nail right on the head, babygirl. I’m constantly…having this internal battle with myself. Feelin’ like I don’t even belong in the community, y’know?” He sniffled, wiping his face along the sleeve of his shirt in an attempt to hide his tears.

“Hey, you absolutely do belong in the queer community. And anyone who tries to shun you is a bigoted asshole that should really do some self reflecting in their personal life before they try to tear down another marginalized person who is simply just fucking living their life and hurting no one!” You felt his pain and frustration from his words and all you really wanted to do was wrap him up in a big hug.

Tommy is momentarily distracted from a flicker of movement in the kitchen and flash of black fur jumping up onto the counter to see what Joel is up to. He smiles briefly, remembering the last time he caught his older brother putzing around the kitchen making munchies and singing a fucking tune like the lovesick teddy bear that he truly was.

“He really loves you.” He murmured softly.

“What?” You’re confused by the sudden flip of the conversation till you follow the path of his eyes and see your Joel flipping something inside of the pan before he picks Artemis up from the counter, kisses her head and gently places her on his shoulder.

“My brother. He really loves you.” Tommy reiterated with a cheeky grin. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him dancing around the kitchen like that. Whenever he gets really caught up in his feelings and emotions, he immediately starts cooking. The last time he did that was for—”

“Carmen?” You question softly, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah.” He nods, squeezing your hand gently when he notices your eyes growing glassy under the warm glow of the fire. “And…Sarah.”

“Oh cool! So now I’m gonna cry some more!” You laugh trying to process the sudden surge of emotions you’re feeling. “Tommy, I love that man so fucking much. He’s truly…heaven sent, y’know?”

He smiles knowingly, dropping your hand so he can wrap his arm around you, giving you a gentle squeeze. “Yeah, babygirl. And you’re the rite of his movement.”

“You—don’t bring Hozier up in a moment like this! Oh my god!” You laugh, turning your face into his shoulder.

The sliding back door from the kitchen opens moments later and your Joel appears with a whole ass stack of freshly made heart shaped pancakes on a plate, smothered in butter and drizzled perfectly in sticky syrup. Artemis is still proudly perched on his shoulder like a damn parakeet, her tail curved around his neck as he approaches the fire pit.

“Baby love!” He sings songs. “Made y’all somethin’ real special! Hope you’re in the mood for pancakes because—” he frowns when he sees the glassy look in his brother's eyes and your own when you peek over at him. “Why do y’all both look like you’re about to burst into tears? Not when I crafted up the best goddamn pancakes in all of Austin!” He attempts to lighten the mood as he gently sits down alongside you, setting the plate along his lap.

“It’s my fault.” Tommy is quick to speak up. “We got into a deep conversation and I uh—got emotional and then baby love got emotional.”

Joel raises a brow and it appears that even Artemis is listening as she leaps down from his shoulder and trots across the back of the couch to nuzzle against your head.

“What kinda deep conversation did y’all get into?”

“Well, first I just wanna let you know that Natalie is planning on quitting Miller-Co…because of me.” Tommy whispered the last part.

“Oh, for fuck sakes! Tommy, what did you do?” Joel lets out an exasperated sigh as he pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

“Baby.” You speak up, “hear him out, okay?” You reach for his hand. “Tommy really needs our support right now.”

He sighs, grasping your hand in his palm with his fingers interlocked through yours. “I’m listenin.’”

“I promise I didn’t do anything wrong, Joel. I swear. Look, I’ve been meaning to tell you this for a long time now, I jus’—I’ve been nervous to-do so.” Tommy starts, looking over at his brother as he gathers his thoughts, “so uh, I’m—aromantic and bisexual.”

Joel doesn’t even look the least bit surprised at his brother coming out. His eyes soften as he responds with a small nod, “that ain’t nothin’ you gotta worry about, little brother. I’ve been havin’ a feelin’ for a while now. S’okay. I love you jus’ the same.”

Tommy breaks immediately, his vision blurring with tears when his brother reaches across to gently squeeze his shoulder. “I—I had no idea that you already…knew.” He sniffles.

“Course not, Tommy. M’jus’ a real observant person, y’know? So, is this what’s gotten you all in a fuss? Can I safely assume that Natalie wants to quit because she found out that you’re queer and she has feelings for you that you can’t return?” Joel read between the lines at ease, feeling a surge of anger in his veins that one of their own colleagues made his kin feel a certain way. Especially when the values instilled at Miller-Co were accepting of everyone. No matter their race, gender, sexuality, etc.

“God dammit, you’re smart.” Tommy chuckles. “Yeah, basically that’s why she wants to quit. Fuckin’ ridiculous if I’m being honest.”

“Well, I don't like someone like her working for us anyway. If she wants to quit, then by all means, let her quit. Good riddance, honestly. Damn shame too. Miller-Co doesn’t have a place for small-minded people like her.” Joel is quick to defend and validate his brother's feelings without missing a beat.

“Okay, okay, you don’t needa go off on her or anythin’ , okay? I’ll handle it tomorrow or somethin.’” Tommy reassured him.

“Alright. I’ll let you handle it.” Joel nods, focusing his attention back on you. “So, Tommy comin’ out to ya is what’s gotten you all teary eyed again, baby love?”

You nod, looking over at him with a small smile. “Yeah, and…Joel?”

“Hm?”

“I’m bisexual…too.”

“Guess that makes me the token straight of the family, huh?” He lightly jokes before squeezing your hand, “well, if that’s the case, I love you all the same too, baby love.”

The following morning Joel wakes up long before you do. He heads into town, visiting a local business that was queer owned and known for their assortment of pride flag stickers and other merch. He purchases an aromantic pride bumper sticker and a bisexual bumper sticker. He doesn’t wait to get home to put them on the bumper of his truck. He carefully peels the stickers off and places them in a spare spot on the already heavily decorated bumper. He takes a step back, arms crossed over his chest with the biggest smile on his face.

Austin’s token straight, and biggest ally has done it once again, folks!

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brucewaynehater101 · 7 months ago

Note

love the idea of Tim thinking he’s being put through a ‘test’ of Bruce’s, when in fact it’s a real emergency. So when Tim like saves the whole batfam, he just goes “how did I score” to Bruce, finally making Bruce realize how deep the impact of his testing went in Tim’s brain

If Bruce was finally working at healing and redemption, then this is a great wake-up call for the man. There's a great amount of angst there. He should realize the errors of his ways and maybe acknowledge there's no way to fix the permanent mindset he instilled in a child. However, I don't think Bruce would outright notice anything wrong with Tim's behavior. They've established routines by now. The other kids, though? Their reaction would cue Bruce into how messed up it is.

A bit of a discret version of this would be Tim automatically filling out a mission report. Within the report, he lists his failures and mistakes he made on the mission. This could play out two ways.

One: another kid sees this and scoffs at Tim's perfectionism. It bubbles over into a fight where it reveals how Tim was constantly tested by Bruce with the imminent threat of being forced to quit and banned if he wasn't strong enough. Bruce couldn't stop Tim from being Robin, but he could make his life hell.

Two: Tim writes down the others' mistakes for improvement. This pisses someone off until someone eventually cues into this being an act of protection by Tim. He doesn't want them subjected to Bruce's training if they keep making the same mistakes.

Regardless, they find out how Bruce's constant testing, his trainings, and his treatment of Tim's Robin (and maybe even current treatment of Tim) has really screwed Tim up.

Another way to make this a great miscommunication angst would be Tim, post mission, not treating it with the seriousness it required. Everyone is down at the batcave trying to recover from their wounds and the trauma of what they've witnessed. Then Tim pipes up with a "how did I do, Batman?" Bruce automatically starts listing faults, and Tim just nods. Everyone else is floored because didn't they both just see that horrific shit that went down?

Tim is just high key dissociating to finish up protocol until he can go home and have a 5 hour long mental breakdown. Bruce is just finishing the list of protocols because it's a method of control and coping for him. It's also a habit.

#dc comics #dc universe #tim drake #bruce wayne #thank you for the ask!!!!

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buckyarchives · 2 years ago

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second, first meeting | chishiya shuntarou

spoiler warning for ending of aib season 2

after the meteor, chishiya notices the all too familiar person. their a pull towards you - like maybe you’ve met somewhere? (gn reader)

words - 1.1k

a/n: WOW AIB 2 FINALLY OUT AND THE ENDING WAS REALLY GOOD I THINK. anyways arisu and usagis ending was so cute and i needed literally the “have we met?” scenario with ALL of them. and i’m a weak so i made this, very shoot, not beta’d, just a small and sweet drabble. enjoy reading!!!

—

Chishiya is alive.

He sure as hell didn't feel like it, but he was. The meteorite took a lot out of him, physically and mentally. Waking up in the beeping hospital room with a sudden new look on life, and he was going to do something about it. No more being a messenger for bad news, slowly tearing down people's hope one referral after another.

Dozens of people just experienced the same pain and trauma as he walked around him, some looking better than others. A girl with an amputated leg, a man in a coma as he passed by his room, and a girl and boy walking hand in hand with injuries littered over them. Humanity– always finding love in terrible suitaions.

Chishiya stood in one of the hospital common rooms, people-watching as he always does. God– it feels like a lifetime had passed since the meteorite. Chishiya was familiar with the whirring and beeping sounds of hospitals, people chatting and crying, and the strong smell of disinfectants and bleach. He was a doctor, all these things filled his life to the brim, it was familiar.

Even you.

You, who stood across the room; tucked into a corner (like chishiya), people-watching, snacking on crackers, and keeping yourself comfortably hidden. Yes, you’d caught his eyes. But something felt off deep inside his stomach, something was off about you. Almost like you were too familiar, chishiya could see a lifetime in your eyes and this is the only time he's ever seen you. Maybe, it wasn't?

Chishiya knew better than to laser focus on one person in the room, because your head perked up. Right into his direction, but chishiya’s gaze didn't falter– he couldn't even if he wanted to. The pull towards you was too intense, it made him dizzy. shock, confusion, remembrance? Flashed across your face, similar to him.

A small, sweet smile grew on your face. Fuck, what medication did they put him on? That meteorite really did a deal on him because suddenly he can’t breathe. For a moment he thought maybe his stitched came undone, half expecting to see blood soaking his scrubs when he looked down. But no– it was just you. Chishiya’s has never seen a smile so familiar, yet foreign.

Your eyes narrowed in his direction, like you were trying to read him. Something many people found difficult in the past, Chishiya didn’t put up a fight or a stone-cold face. Chishiya narrowed his eyes back, like a challenge.

So wrapped up in you that he didn't see the teenage boy wheeling a little too close to his toes in a wheelchair. “Ow!” chishiya yelped.

“Ah! I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” the boy began to spew out a plethora of apologies, frantically bowing his head to the elder.

“It's okay!” chishiya reassure, the sting in his toe had already been subdued– an easy injury compared to the bandaged and stitched-up ones he gained a few days ago. “Seriously, it’s okay.”

The boys' apologies slowed and he wheeled off, practically still bowing. Chishiya chuckled under his breath at the gesture. Looking back up to find you again, weird– what's got into him? Your spot ghosted empty and chishiya’s eyes frantically searched for you, only to find your back now turned to him and trudging down the hallways. Right as his eyes landed on you, your neck turned and you glanced back at chishiya.

A challenge indeed.

Chishiya curiously cocked his head, looking something like a cat. And then one foot in front of another, chishiya was following you down the hallway. He wasn't sure why, maybe he didn’t need a reason. I mean, he almost died, chishiya felt like he didn’t need a solid reason to do anything anymore besides what he wanted. And he wanted to follow the beautiful, mysterious, and weirdly familiar person around in a hospital. Like cat and mouse.

And that's how chishiya ended up in a quieter, more intimate area. Middle of a hallway, near a set of tables and a vending machine. Usually, where loved one would sit weary-eyed and waiting for good news. You came to a halt, chishiya stopped. You turned around slowly, that sweet smile that made chishiya’s stomach feel weird (apart from the wounds.)

“You're following me.”

Something that would so usually sound like a question, was a statement. Because it was meant to be, because you knew he was from the beginning. You intended on it. Chishiya already likes you. And hell– your voice almost gave him whiplash, so silk and sweet. Echoing distantly in his head, like he's heard it a million times before.

“And you wanted me too,” chishiya replied coyly. His voice felt so scratching and his throat burned as he spoke, being without water and unconscious for too long. Shoving his hands in his pockets, leaning back slightly. Even half dead he must keep up his cool-guy image.

You didn’t reply, only a wider grin growing on your face. And chishiya found it hard to bite back one of his own. How so uncharacteristic of him – he felt so warm.

“Maybe.” you finally said.

Chishiya hummed, beginning to close the distance – one foot in front of another – between the two of you.

You watched him intently, chishiya knew it. Normally he’d perceive this as someone sizing him up, but your eyes told a different story as they trailed up his body. Something that'd make his ears hot and red.

“Meteor?” you asked, gesturing to his wounds. Chishiya nodded. “Me too.”

It was awkward for a moment, but not uncomfortable. The silence was deafening as if it wasn't meant for the two of you. Like there were so many words only on the tip of his tongue, words unsaid, words he didn’t even know – but they were begging to be spoken.

You were the first to break the silence, stepping closer. Now only 2 or 3 feet in front of him. “Have I, sorry, this is weird– but, have we met before? Like even passed each other on the streets.”

“Not to my knowledge.”

You hummed, looking around to avoid the intense eye contact that tugged you closer, and closer and–

“Would you like to know me?” chishiya said, his eyes not leaving yours. A weird sense of home lay in your eyes, chishiya was ready to jump fully in.

You tried to cover the eagerness in you, waiting a moment. Dramatically tapping a finger to your chin as you thought. “I think that’d be nice.”

Chishiyas lip quirked up, following yours.

He may not know you the way he feels, but he will.

#alice in borderland #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya alice in borderland #chishiya imagine #i want to smother chishiya #chishiya x male reader #chishiya x reader #aib chishiya #chishiya headcanons #aib #alice in boderland x reader

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midnightbears · 1 month ago

Text

✿ duskbound, afterlight.

#STARRING: cybertronian fem reader & other characters.

#TAGS: trauma. talks of character death. hopelessness? mentions of prostitution. no appearance of canon characters because this is an intro. hunger games reference!

#NOTES: hi! still alive, just not writing for kny atm because my head is like a powerpoint presentation with all my hyperfixations and i can't write for requests when it is on another slide. hope that makes sense. this is the first chapter of my megatron x reader, a strangers to lovers to enemies featuring pre-war cybertron, a magnanimous amount of lore, a lot of non-cannon stuff like sparklings and stuff because i can do whatever i want, and my flickering motivation to finish it. i don't have a specific transformers i'm basing the timeline off, so we will see. i thought of publishing it on ao3 or smth but i have better judgement so i just figured i would upload the first chapter on tumblr. the new transformers movie was soooo good and it inadvertently rekindled my transformers obsession. enjoy? let me know if you like it, i would appreciate it if you have questions or anything :) THIS BITCH IS LONG SO BEWARE

part two | part three | part four | part five

"Y/N, my optics hurt."

"I know, sweetspark, I know."

This place reeked. Pure flowing smoke and vapor, stinking energon, and the smell of the gray coal and ash that powdered the laborers' and miners' bodies like scintillating glitter filled the pavements of that day—such fragrant poetry.

The barely perceivable light that shone down could not even be called proper illumination in the first place. Every once in a while, the wells of your optics danced up to gaze toward where the sweltering sunlight was supposed to be.

Still, your spark did nothing but wail at you when, each time, all that you caught were mountains upon mountains of pitch-dark vapor, dull particles of dust from the mines, and the visualization of the austere whispers of despair and anguish among the workers of one of the mining towns from one of Cybertron's Primus-forsaken satellites, Nuna 5PY.

Even if you turned to look towards the downtown streets, the particles infiltrated your vents and blistered your optics.

Some workers used gas masks, while others retreated to the mines, where the synthetic stench wasn't as foul, but most were forced to return to work. They snatched up energon everywhere they could, recharged in fits and starts among their screaming. You seriously needed to leave.

As Vaportrail coughed onto the city street, you held her small servo. Even with the torrential acid pouring last night, the smog got to her well before the rush hour.

You realized things would not improve today, so you hurried in fear of the younger developing tear-streaked optics and a headache to match. It saddened you that Vaportrail would never know what a normal life would be like. It was as though they had collectively given up years before she was born, which was unjust to her and all the future sparklings.

You grabbed her and pulled her into the cart. Traveling was enjoyable, but not at the price of introducing additional hazardous particles into the environment.

Mining Outpost R–02 was one of the towns from Nuna 5PY, where unnamed members of the lower classes labored interminably, tediously. The gloomy, smoky shambles of a metropolis required the Communication Grid to communicate with other areas and locations simply. It was no place for a sparkling.

The infant cybertronian lay quietly on the sulfurous mine carriage attached to the railway, more vulnerable than the glass that was painstakingly constructed for the masses of the High-caste buildings and just as giddily colored.

You wondered if her peds are dirty; how would you know? You pondered what she ate back when Starlight was still living in this downtown slum; where did her mother get energon to nourish her?

Your servos were callous from several scars and defects, and a part of you ached to sweep her up in her arms and shelter her eternally. But. How could you ever live with yourself if you didn't allow such an innocent being to live a tranquil life?

"I'm sorry about your carrier," You told the sparkling wistfully, making sure she was comfortable for the long ride from here to where your late best friend wanted her youngling to go if something ever happened to her. You gave her a small pad which contained personal information like her name and situation, along with a plead for somebot to take her to safety, "Cybertropolis is a nice place, just make sure you reach the police station safely, they'll know where to take you."

"Thank you," Vaportrail squeaked out, her knees pulled up to her chest plate.

The train inevitably started, and you walked in tandem with the slow speed of the carriage just to get a good, final look at the sparkling's dainty, cheerless face. Vaportrail would surely be a problem when she got older because all of the mechs would swoon over her—deservingly so.

With those optics and a grin as charming and gauzy as that, she was the very picture of the youthful beauty who had once bored the name of Starlight. You believed she was the sweetest femmeling on the planet.

"I love you, okay? And I'm sure your carrier is so proud of you. Good luck!"

Eventually, you had to withdraw from the train, which only allowed you to stare at the vanishing small frame of a waving Vaportrail, whose response had been forever lost in the sad, sepulchral winds of the town.

Despite that, you could still stare at the sparkling's naive, callow features and find colossal gratitude and admiration in its place, which made a lump form in your voicebox and squeezing palpation beat inside your spark chamber.

With Vaportrail gone, the smell of blazing smoke burned your olfactory sensors and induced you to cover them with your suitable servo. You had never before realized that the shrilling blare of the injectors, the drills, the massive excavators, and the wheels of the trucks could be so overwhelmingly loud, either. From the corner of your optics, the flashes and instants of the sparks that aimlessly flew around whenever metal met metal brought you out of your bewildered daydream.

But then you turned and saw the portrait of shattered ambition, lost hope, undetermined origins, opaque bitterness, damaged honor, futile dreams, and wavering will that assembled the cybertronians of Nuna 5PY.

It was a blow to the back of your head.

Starlight was dead.

If you closed your optics, you could still see the glow on her metallurgical protoform, the spark that no longer burned, and the sound of her laughter that still reverberated in your audio receptors and processor.

Oh, you missed her desperately.

She'd spent her days as a young and daring cybertronian who didn't let the vacillating shame of her prostitution career ridicule her or anything she was. A good, pleasant, and kind femme that thrived and existed, only for some mech to tear her from her home and forever close her laughing optics. She was a femme, a friend, a sister, and a carrier.

She was someone.

"Oi, femme!"

You knew that whoever was calling that word in such a degrading manner was referring to you and you only. You were aware that you were one of the few femmes working on that hellhole.

Sourly, you turned your helm to the source of the voicebox and found your boss—if he could even be called that—staring at you rigorously from across the street. Other mechs were beside him, and in their hungry optics, you could see hunger, amusement, a blatant lack of respect, and other things—all of it for you.

"You said five minutes. Start moving your aft before I tell someone to move it for you."

The group of despicable mechs started laughing at the humorous, unique, spectacular, utterly not-ever-done-before knee-slapper comment. You wondered what comedians told to get a chuckle or two out of their audience nowadays.

You detested yourself when you started walking back to the mines with crystal-clear coolant forming in your optics and with the words caught inside your voicebox.

Even the clicking of your battered timer had a languid touch in the fading light of their (your) chamber as if it were a spark-beat at rest. The perpetual rhythm of it became more of a white noise inside the transparent yet spurious safety surrounding your beguiling, chimerical space bubble.

The memory of the lingering perfume of Starlight's aromatic utensils saturated you far more intensely than it did only days before, making you want to pound and bang your head against the wall until you ran out of energon inside your body.

Your spark chamber was wrenched apart in the core by a hollow cavity. It had been there for forty-eight groons. Faithless and cynical, the pit that took form inside of you pulled you to the very depths of your revolted mind.

You were immobile, your bare servos lying at your sides and your digits tinkering with the berth. Everything within the room drove you crazy and made you want to tear out your optics under the scrutinizing, deep-rooted omnipresence of both the carrier and the sparkling.

Vaportrail was not napping on her carrier's bed; her small chest plating was not rising and falling according to her mellow, smooth breathing. You remembered how she would spring from Starlight's berth just to greet you after every single burdensome solar cycle of nothing but suffering under the cruel comments and sometimes spiteful actions of mechs and their superiors.

You knew and understood that she left for a better life in Cybertropolis, yet you just can't comprehend why you are not hearing her dulcet giggles and her voice as soft as a feather.

"Y/N, look at me!"

You turned your helm lightly toward the soft-spoken sparkling from your spot on your berth.

One of your stabilizers was crossed over the other, your servos snuggly behind your helm. Due to your horizontal position, you were seeing Vaportrail in a somewhat awkward manner, whispering something to her carrier excitedly, which made you turn your whole frame so you were resting against your side, lifting your helm with your right servo.

"What is it, V?"

Vaportrail, who had her mother's laughing optics, stood proudly atop Starlight's berth beside her laying figure, servos on her hips and grin on her dermas, meekly waiting for you to look at her so she could show her spectacular stunt.

She was no bigger than a mining pickaxe, which is why she was never let out of Starlight's and your’s shared chamber. She was still tiny, even for a youngling her age, but that was not unusual, as the impoverished environment and the mediocre energon didn't do much to help anyway. Primus knows what could happen to someone so small and so weak.

Her confident, puffed-up stand made you laugh casually, as while typically Vaportrail was a modest sparkling, never one to demand attention or directly ask for what she wanted, whenever she got like this and let out her inner childishness for the silliest of things, both you and Starlight would get tons of laughter out of it.

"Go on! Show Y/N what you've been practicing," Starlight encouraged.

When you nodded at Vaportrail, signaling that your attention was entirely on her, her optics lit up. She walked towards the end of her carrier's berth, planting her peds at the very ends before turning around.

Vaportrail crouched, and with a slight push from her servos and an impulse from her peds, she successfully rolled forward in the berth, landing on her bottom before scrambling to get up and putting her servos up in the air, muttering a small 'Ta-da!'

You had smiled warmly, watching Vaportrail giggle to herself giddily. Starlight clapped for her and swarmed her in a big hug, proud of her sparkling and happy that she had gotten her little trick right. Honestly, you were a bit jealous. You wished you could be this happy by doing something as simple as a gymnastic maneuver.

Vaportrail cheered along with her carrier, excitedly thumping her peds against the surface of the berth. Then she turned to look at you, her optics gleaming with happiness. "I did it! I did a forward roll!"

"Oh, did you?" After your rhetorical question, you languidly returned to your original position, lying with your back plates on the berth and your servos behind your helm. You cheekily turned to Vaportrail and Starlight, a sly, good-natured smile pulling at your dermas; you closed your optics. "I wasn't looking."

"Y/N!"

Both femmes happily laughed at the moping undertones of Vaportrail's voice.

"Just kidding!"

That day was a long time ago, at least it seemed to be; it felt like it. Those words were spoken in the same chamber you slept and resided in. That comical stunt was performed in the berth across from yours. They were not here anymore. Even if you wished they were back together, that deceitful dream would only be achieved by death.

No one can pursue their dreams or be free enough without it. Freedom is for the rich because dreaming costs money.

Starlight wasn't there to hold her youngling and hug you when you needed it. You weren't hearing her voice either, singing lullabies to help you both fall into a much-needed recharge. Her presence was so needed, so sought; in places like this, femmes like her were what one needed to forget about the harsh burden that was the act of being alive. To think that only forty-eight groons before she was still living, she was still here.

Her memory made you miserable because best friends comprehend you like no other. Starlight was overly protective and brutally honest—as if she ever needed that. You felt so enraged and resentful at not being there to protect her that you feared you might break.

Although you dug Starlight's grave, blatantly refusing to let the body of your best friend turn into waste parts or scrap metal, a part of you still suppressed the image. One day, you would properly weep for her, but first, you had to accept that she was truly gone. A part of you would never be able to accept that Starlight would never appear, skipping around a corner to tease you for falling for her clever joke.

‘How can she be dead?’

Harsh knocks against your metal door made you jerk from your position on the berth.

"08, are you in there?!"

The boisterous tone of the mech standing behind your door made you remember that you were still real and breathing inside your crude, undeserving, unworthy existence. Your bubble-turned crystal cocoon inevitably started collapsing at the reminder that life could still go on without Starlight because, after all, no cybertronian knew who Starlight is—was. No cybertronian knew who Starlight was. The world moved on without her.

Without thinking much, you got up from the cold berth, chills flourishing in your metallurgic skin before walking the small distance towards the oxidized door and swinging it open. You would not have considered the thought of opening (being too engrossed in your self-pity and wallowing in grief, you know?) in the first place was it not for the genuine undertones of chipper motivation that were painted over H–01's usually harsh, asperous voice.

Wait, why was he at your door anyway?

His hulking, rusted frame was as corroded as ever, and it was honestly a little sickening to look at. Despite the awful veil of dust and ash that littered him, the grayish, crimson, and dull turquoise glares of his deteriorated paint job could still be peeked at; his wheels were decaying, and his melancholic optics had lost their love for life— as had everybot else's.

Ancient as a cosmic star and twice as intelligent, with his towering structure and terse personality, H–01 was by far one of the town's most elderly seniors—and, may you add, one of the most cordial.

You remembered the day you first arrived here, back when you were still an inexperienced femme in life, gullible, back when you dreamed dreams.

After an accident in your old work establishment,—one of the mech coworkers had stepped over the line with you, resulting in a mining pickaxe protruding from his knee plate and a lot of energon spilled around— you had been sent to Mining Outpost R–02, and H–01 quickly took it upon himself to become a mentor of some sort as you shared letter unit.

You recalled that he laughed as he had never before when you told him the story of why they had banned you from your previous workplace. Later, you met Starli—

"08?"

You blinked owlishly, and realizing that he was calling out to you, you grounded yourself and met his preoccupied gaze.

"What did you need?"

He frowned at your mediocre attempt at lying. H–01 was by no means stupid, and sadly, you didn’t give enough credit and didn't acknowledge how easily he could pick apart your facade, layer by layer, until your shell was utterly ripped apart.

"Kid, I may be rusty, but I'm shrewd enough to know that you're not well." You became conscious of how absurd you must have seemed in his words. He continued. "I'm sorry about your friend and her sparkling."

There it was again, that funny feeling, that blow to the back of your head. You felt your spark wail painfully, and your limbs tensed up, your optics frantically searching into H–01's face plates for any sign of mockery. You found none. You almost crumbled at his sincere words until your response was unwillingly driven back to your tanks when the piercing siren started blasting across the halls of the chambers.

Instinctively, you covered your audio receptors at the discomfort. At the same time, H–01 merely stared into the speaker device right up against the wall, a bit far away from them. From the corner of his optics, he saw many of the workers exiting their chambers, each of them confused, some of them covering their audial receptors as well, and others staring, irritated and visibly vexed at the gadget that was currently stripping them of their much-needed recharging hours.

The workers of the 8th unit, otherwise known as the H unit, approached the oldest mech from their division, questioning themselves about what was going on. Their optics wilted, and there was a slight lolling to their helms, drunk with weariness after a session of an endless cycle of mining.

"01, what's going on?" One of them asked rather loudly, trying to shout over the siren, coming up to them just as you got used to the loud siren and pulled your servos away from your audial receptors.

You moved out of the entrance of your chamber to shut the door behind you, joining H–01 by standing beside him. They shared a brief glance, one filled with puzzlement, the other brimming with uncertainty. But before anyone could share their answer or even make a single move, the horrendous blaring of the alarm stopped.

The speaker against the wall went completely silent, and a single red light started beeping. The Cybertronians looked at each other, baffled.

Someone talked via the speaker.

:: Attention, all workers. You are summoned to the patio at this instant. Once you reach the area, stand in your respective branch line and don't question your current predicament; ignoring this order will result in immediate offlining. I repeat: ignoring this order will result in immediate offlining ::

I need to leave. I need to leave. I need to leave. I need to leave.

That was what you were thinking when you, H–01, and the others walked among the congregation of cybertronians—you would have said mechs were it not for the few femme 'nurses' among the outer lines of the crowds, who as far as you were concerned, were the ones who took care of the workers who suffered minor accidents like infected optics, fractured limbs or something along those lines.

It was not like they counted anyway. Primus knew what they were actually in this town for and what they did to survive.

The patio, used for Cybertronians during their spare time, was circular, wide of range, and littered with damaged devices and compartment containers, a whole mess of passed-down gear and materials.

Whenever they got their energon rations and stopped here to rest, H–01 would remark that only the fuel granted to them wasn't recycled—well, that and the smoke. The patio boulders formed a patchwork, with stones obtained as useless scraps and waste from renovations resting together as lovely as crystalline statues from the High-caste buildings. It had artistry to it, as well as smoothness. You and H–01 used to sit there together.

You saw the executives of Mining Outpost R–02, violently shove some of the workers towards their specific department, yelling something at them that you couldn't quite catch. Considering the calm and easy-going attitude of the mistreated miners, you could just tell that they were the prissy, fastidious mechs of the upper divisions, maybe the 1st or the 2nd, where they didn't get punished for slacking off or harassing other workers along with the bosses just for the fun of it.

Your unit quickly got on its respective branches and neatly stood in line. You all exchanged terse nods, mentally preparing yourselves for whatever was about to happen.

In front of you and the rest of your division were the mechs of the 7th unit, and behind them were the workers of the 9th, and so on. Judging by the others' facial expressions, they, too had no idea of why they'd been called here nor could muster up a word, which only fueled your desire to learn what was going on. The patio got tighter, more claustrophobic as cybertronians arrived.

You were the last number in your unit, meaning that you were placed in the furthest spot from your old friend. You lightly reclined your helm backward to attempt and catch a glimpse of H–01, but to no success, as you saw him and all the other mechs, for that matter, focused on the temporary stage ahead of them.

It held a podium, a small staircase, and fifteen glass balls with electronic chips on them. One for each unit of the Mining Outpost. A chill went down your spinal plate at the thought.

An overwhelming, ominous silence suddenly governed the patio when a mech no one working here had ever seen before climbed up the staircase. The way he moved caused cybertronians to stare at him in fear.

The mech was brawny and towering, and the way his helm fell over his lifeless, devoid optics and left shadows smeared on his cheek plates made others shudder. He was directly in front of the plain, pitiful microphone stand. However, an almost charming smile crossed his dermas.

"I suppose you're asking yourselves why were you brought in here."

Because of the microphone, his voice, profound and with a baritone tone, boomed across the patio, making you wince lightly at its loudness. You, of course, were desensitized from loud noises due to the continuous straining sounds of the mining machines around you day after day, as everyone else was. However, his statement caused many cybertronians to look among themselves, clearly disturbed.

"Gentlemechs, my name is Bullway, and I've come all the way here from Kaon to offer you a choice. I intend to give fifteen of you the chance of coming to Kaon with me and becoming gladiators."

Hushed whispers and inaudible sentences started falling from everyone's dermas at Bullway's words and what they implied. From the corner of your optics, you saw most of the mechs look at each other in mute amazement at what they had just been offered.

Their superiors, who were at the base of the set-up podium, quickly took it upon themselves to silence everyone with a loud yell, the absence of sound appearing once again.

"Think about it! Money, power, glory, fame, all laid at your digitprints!" Bullway threw his arms out to emphasize his words. "Join me, and all you have ever dreamed of will come true. A life of nothing but recognition! Isn't that what you deserve?! Isn't that what you dream of as you stare at the ceilings of your measly stations?!"

Dreaming cost money. Dreaming cost money. Dreaming cost money.

Almost as if he had read your mind, H–01 subtly leaned his helm forward to take a peek at the workers of the section he conducted. Most of them remained stoic, and he was very glad to see that, but what worried him the most right now was H–08.

His facial plates morphed into that of slight disturbance because as he peered into your face, he clearly saw what could only be described as contemplation, doubt, and consideration, which both bothered and worried him.

Bullway smiled at how he had you under a forged delusion and continued his speech, "See the crystal globes here? There's one for each unit of your Mining Outpost. They all contain chips with your respective electronic signatures. Each vorn you have worked here, your signature will be entered an additional time. You can figure out the rest, so let us begin!"

Each vorn?

You suddenly realized that the globes were not in order because, in the same minute that you let the circumstances sink in, Bullway had already slipped a servo inside one of the spheres and grabbed one chip from it, reading it aloud so everyone could hear the letter and number clearly.

"G–10!"

All of the divisions started looking among each other, searching for the (not) lucky mech, a pregnant silence following suit as the group in front of them all glared sympathetically at the chosen one, who stood frozen in place, optics blinking several times, wishing to Primus that Bullway had read the designation incorrectly and it wasn't him who was just chosen.

You felt a shiver run down your spinal plate when one of the guards roughly seized his shoulder and made him start walking toward the platform, ignoring the mech's begging and lightly dragging him across the patio as everyone stared in horror. Your intake suddenly went dry when Bullway moved to the next globe, grabbed an electronic chip, moved to the microphone again, and read it aloud.

This time it was from the upper divisions, A–07, you heard.

Just like that, another mech was whisked away from his branch line and thrown across the patio. He then ascended the flight of stairs to stand beside G–10, who apparently was still encapsulated in deep denial, continuously shaking his helm in disbelief. It was tenaciously obvious that Bullway did not concern himself with their worries and imminent fear as he once again moved toward a globe and grabbed another.

You wished cybertronians would step outside their own frames and oversee from the outside what was actually happening at that very instant in Nuna 5PY. Plucked from their workstations like flowers in a garden, sent off to Kaon for the purpose of entertainment for the Upper class with the bombastic excuse of 'MONEY POWER GLORY' behind it.

Prisoners inside their own bodies, trapped to fend off for themselves on a planet where no one cared about them.

Electronic signatures continued rolling off the mech's glossa like energon from a wishing well. The mechs that were chosen always did the exact same thing. They stood completely aghast for a few nanokliks, staring at the soot-stained ground in front of them in absolute shock, their frames deflating like rubber balloons, dermas parting in awe at themselves because they just couldn’t believe it.

F–03.

I–11.

D–04.

E–07.

K–15.

O–02.

When they got prodded by one of the guards, they stared at them, silently begging for compassion, but they found none. Eventually, they were pulled out of their place and shoved towards the staircase on the stage, where Bullway gleefully welcomed all the newcomer 'gladiators' just to grab another electronic chip and call out yet another designation, and so repeating the cycle.

C–01.

M–06.

B–09.

L–01.

J–02.

N–14.

Oh, there was still a globe left. The H unit.

The crowd drew in a collective breath, and then you could hear a pin drop. You were feeling nauseous, your servos clammy, your whole frame tense, your processor hurt, and your spark ached. You longed to see Starlight, you wanted to chase after the train where you sent Vaportrail off to Cyberpolis, and you didn’t know how much H–01 was desperately hoping that it wasn’t you, that it wasn’t you, that it wasn’t you.

"And the last one! H–08!"

#midnightbears #megatron x reader #megatron #d 16 #d 16 x reader #orion pax #optimus prime #megatron x you #megatronus #tf one #transformers prime #transformers one #megatronus x reader #tf #transformers #transformers prime x reader #elita one

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urhoneycombwitch · 3 months ago

Text

hold me like water

foreword: followup to my unofficial eddie x shy!reader series. not necessary to read in order but here’s one and two if u want. this takes place after the events of s4 but everyone (including the trailer sorry i’m too attached) is mostly fine and so is the town. except for all that pesky PTSD… lol. written epilogue-style but I just wanted to give them something soft… not done w them yet!!

cw: PTSD, nightmares, trauma bonding, medical stuff, scarring/wounds, light smut post-traumatic event, R has breasts+a vagina, R wears a bikini

wc: 3k

___

For the first month, you don’t leave the trailer.

More specifically, you don’t leave Eddie.

While he’s recovering from the attacks, you confine yourself to his room; Wayne had pulled in a comfy armchair for you when he realized you’d been sleeping on Eddie’s floor for three nights in a row, just to be closer to him than the guest bed down the hall.

Now, with the chair, you’re actually getting some sleep at night- enough to tend to Eddie’s wounds every morning and evening without yawning comically loud.

After the first few weeks of healing, while Eddie is still tender but learning to walk shakily with the use of a cane, you still stick to the boundaries of the trailer. Neither of you really want to go anywhere, anyways: Hop’s instructions to keep a low profile while the dust settles on the murder investigation have to be taken seriously.

Plus, Eddie and you are very well taken care of by your friends-turned-family. Anything you could ever want for shows up on your doorstep and kitchen counters by a rotating crew of familiar faces; Mrs. Byers brings groceries and finds excuses to stay longer, busying herself by making tea, doing the dishes; Mrs. Wheeler brings casseroles and her son, who steals Eddie away for intense D&D discussions (Eddie made Mike interim DM, and the power’s really gone to his head).

The trailer is almost always filled during the day, bikes in a heap on the front strip of grass, Beemer parked at an angle to avoid a popped tire. Steve picks up Eddie’s medication every Friday, brings it over along with a bunch of VHS’s and Robin. Sometimes Jonathan and Argyle join in on movie nights, too, and Nancy when she’s not busy with work.

It’s easy and peaceful, spending time with people who understand and share the same traumas. People who don’t stare at the bandages or Eddie’s cane or ask why you won’t leave the trailer any more.

The government officials from the now-defunct Hawkin’s lab call every few days, wall-mounted landline ringing like a toll bell at 3pm sharp. You tell them the same thing, every time, curt and firm- if they want to interrogate you and Eddie, they’ll damn well have to come here. Or drag you, kicking and screaming.

Steve asks about it one afternoon, naive and confused with the force of your phone slamming- “Y’know, they probably just want you to sign one of those Don’t-Talk-About-This papers and give you a bunch of money. I heard they’re setting up college funds for all the kids-”

“Good for them.” Your dry remark cuts in smoothly from the couch, hand on Eddie’s knee as a lifeline. In a voice wobbly with anger, eyes glittering with unshed tears, your chin tilts up, defiant- “It’s the least they can do. I want them to look me in the eyes when they try to grovel for my silence. For Eddie’s. After all they fucking did to us, to the town-”

Eddie’s hand slips over yours, squeezes. Steve raises his hands in a placating gesture, surrendering with haste, then retreats to the kitchen for movie night snacks.

“Never heard you so bossy before,” Eddie murmurs, at the shell of your ear. Goosebumps cascade across your neck when he rests his heavy palm there, cold rings warming to the temperature of your skin. “Goin’ to bat for me. It’s hot.”

You’re a couple of steps removed from the quiet, shy thing Eddie’s known for years. Seeing the love of your life almost bleed out in an alternate dimension will do that to a person.

Owens shows up at the trailer one morning, at the end of summer after all the phone calls provide no results. Him and two of his muscliest-looking lab guys are met by you in the threshold of the door, arms crossed and somehow looking fierce despite the fuzzy blue bathrobe you’re swathed in.

“The goons stay outside.” Your word is final. Even the doctor knows it.

The two men in coats settle on either side of the porch, while Owens is allowed to sit at the kitchen table indoors, accepting a mug of coffee Eddie generously supplies (you certainly aren’t in a hospitable mood, glaring daggers at him from the opposing chair).

Predictably, the doctor explains he’s here with some NDA’s for both you and Eddie to sign, the shiny promise of a government-allotted chunk of change waiting on the other side.

Hidden from view under the table, your fingertips skate over Eddie’s palm, lying open and pliant for you. Calmly, like you’re stating the weather, you tell Owens to double his offer.

By the time he’s done using your phone, Owens is wiping sweat from his forehead with a kerchief. Once the papers are signed, him and the lab goons load back into the shiny black car like silent sentries.

They leave, and Eddie laughs, a full, rich noise that makes your heart ache. His fist slams the table in excess of humor, mugs jumping with a clink. “Goddamn. You just made the richest guy in Hawkins run off with his tail between his legs.”

“Pretty sure Harrington Senior has him beat,” you mutter around the rim of your coffee, unable to repress the satisfied smirk that tugs at your lips.

The payoff is a sickening amount, more money than you or Eddie have ever seen- enough to send you both to college, twice, with a hefty nest egg for the future leftover. You put the bulk of yours in a savings account, just so you don’t get dizzy looking at the numbers.

Eddie does the same, with the exception of a down payment on the vacant trailer at the end of the park. Along with the new place, Wayne gets a fresh mattress, a couch that doesn’t have holes, and a proper, working stereo to play all his “old man country” tapes (in Eddie’s words). The quiet and deep thankfulness Wayne gives you both makes you feel like you’d do it all over again, like the fight was all worth it for the Laz-E-Boy in the corner and the new mug collection shelf.

Eddie floats the idea of college again, now that you’ve got the funds to make it possible. You’ve certainly got the time, too- neither of you have any need to work long shifts at the diner or garage anymore.

Unfortunately, this makes it all the more easy to form reclusive habits. By autumn, the solidness of your refusal to leave the trailer has less to do with helping Eddie than it does with your own fear of what lies beyond the comfort of your home.

Most days, you work on healing. Eddie’s still your lifeline, gentle encouragement turning stern when you need it the most- he talks you into visiting Max by yourself, a veritable feat; the short walk between the two trailers feels like death, your knock shaky with nerves. It feels horrifying, to walk the thin line of being both braver and more scared than you’ve ever been.

You stay for an hour. The next day, for two- Max has a new kitten that passes the time easily, the girl giggling behind her new thick-rimmed glasses while pulling string across the floor for the tiny thing to pounce on. One night, you bring dinner for both the Mayfields and stay well past supper; it’s nearly 11 by the time you return to Eddie’s open arms, triumphant in your success with a tupperware of Mrs. Mayfield’s cookies to boot.

Your bravery builds in increments. Eddie cleans the rust from his van that’s been sitting untouched since spring, and takes you on drives that go a bit farther each time. The Byers’ place for lunch, Dustin’s to pick up an extra radio, then all the way to north Hawkins for more of Mrs. Wheeler’s plastic-wrapped dishes she asks you to relieve her of.

When winter rolls around, Steve takes advantage of his now-permanently empty home to throw a holiday party. It’s loud with chatter and overwhelming with noise but it feels so good to be surrounded by it, by everyone, Eddie’s hand a steady comfort on your waist or lower back as you eat and drink and make merry with your friends.

Hop pulls it off, a Christmas miracle- all the murders get pinned on Jason, buried six feet under with parents who skipped town ages ago. You’re out for groceries one cold morning and realize that not a single shopper has even given Eddie a second glance, conspicuous as he is in black leather and flashy silver jewelry.

The strings loosen with a sigh, fluttering in release, allowing some space for you both to breathe.

Sex has been… different, lately. There’s been lots of readjusting, both physically and mentally- accounting for unforeseen muscle spasms, bone-deep bruises hidden beneath rippled skin, tissue and scarring pulled taut, testing the limits of new pains.

The first time, just a few weeks after the attacks, Eddie had begged to go down on you. He wanted the comfort of your thighs, your taste and scent, all-consuming, to think about anything else other than his wounds.

You’d been more than hesitant, terrified of hurting him, of letting your focus shift inwards. More in your head than ever, it took Eddie over an hour to coax an orgasm from the walls that’d been built back up around your pleasure; even with his lithe tongue and long, seeking fingers, it took forever and an age to get you anywhere close to the edge.

Eddie didn’t complain once- in fact, he kind of got off on the amount of time you let him spend between your legs. The muscles in his right arm were trembling by the time you clamped down on his fingers, jaw burning but keeping the suction at your clit even while your hips rolled strong as a tidal wave against his face.

And before you could open your mouth to apologize, or say something equally silly, panting and wrung-out and heartbreakingly beautiful against the pillows, Eddie’s teeth flashed at the inside of your thigh.

You’d jolted, breathless and giggly, endorphins soaring as he’d tenderly crawled up the length of your body to slip his tongue between your lips, sharing the earthy tang of your release.

“One more,” he’d said, uninjured arm taking the bulk of his weight while he dipped down to mouth at your breast. “And this time, put your hands in my hair. I’m getting jealous of the sheets.”

As Eddie’s physical limitations lessen with time, your mental barriers ease, as well. There’s still some stilted moments of relearning, of working together in bodies that don’t always respond the way you want them to.

There are raw, stripped-open emotions that have you clawing at Eddie’s back, his nails leaving indents on the flesh of your hips. To keep pressure off the worst of his side wounds, you find new positions, usually some form of your thighs draped over his or the welcome weight of you in his lap.

He’s endlessly patient. The kind of patient that makes you want to run, far and fast, and he knows it; when your pleasure recedes, frustration in the form of tears and hands pressed to your face, Eddie’s there to soothe. To try a new angle, to slow down or speed up, offering a break or an extra pillow to keep you comfortable and feeling good.

If you were comforted by each other’s presence during the night before the Spring Break from hell, it’s tenfold now. Neither of you will sleep a wink if Eddie’s not wrapped around you like a koala, snoring gently, overheated and tacky with sweat by morning but neither willing to compromise the closeness.

Nightmares are easier to handle, too- you’re there to soothe the sweat-coated bangs from Eddie’s forehead when he wakes up whimpering in fear, coaxing his panic and adrenaline back down. He’s so fine-tuned to the rhythms of your body that even though your own nightmares rarely end in noise, Eddie often wakes anyways from the disturbance in your breaths.

Just as you do for him, sometimes all it takes to get you back to sleep is a tender voice, a stroke of the arm, a reassurance in the dark that he’s with you.

A year after it all happened, Eddie hears you singing in the shower.

If he wasn’t craning to hear the gentle splashing noises as confirmation of your presence, he would’ve missed it. Eddie leans with his good shoulder on the wood frame, door partially cracked to let the melody of your voice float through.

Stevie Nicks is crooning sweetly from the handheld radio on the bathroom counter, and you, just as sweet and twice as pretty singing along.

Eddie closes his eyes, puts a hand to his chest; through the fabric of his shirt he feels the raised, bumpy edges of scar tissue, but there’s something beyond it. Curling around his heart, making it ache- it feels like healing. Like getting better, at least well enough to sing.

He’s dumbstruck with it.

That summer, he takes you to Lover’s Lake.

It’s just the two of you, which makes it easy for Eddie to go shirtless; currently, he’s enjoying the way you’re watching him from the back of the van, bare feet swinging and paired with a killer black bikini that he begged you into.

He’s not so sure the scars that criss cross his front and sides are as “metal” as you claim they are, but he’s trying. He’d drag himself over hot coals just to get half a smile; going shirtless is nothing.

You reach for him, and he walks into the V of your legs willingly, your arms wrapping around his torso, head pressed to the middle of his sternum. Eddie plants his hands on either side of your hips, drops his chin to fit you under it.

“Come swim with me.”

In response, you sigh- a longsuffering, worried sort of noise that leaves your lungs and enters his. He’s been trying to talk you into it for weeks- it’s a miracle he’s gotten you both this far, dressed and ready to take the plunge.

Eddie’s not really sure why this swim is so important to him. It might have something to do with the fissure at the bottom of the lake, all scabbed over and sewn back together; or maybe it’s the surface, skimmed by a light breeze and rippling gently, nothing of monsters or alternate dimensions leftover to disturb the placidity.

Eddie wants to prove that it’s safe, for you and for himself. That the nightmares and the sticky feelings and the tears, they all mean something, of course they do- but the only way to is through.

So he takes you by both hands and you only drag your feet a little until he’s walking backwards on the shore, water lapping up to his ankles, and you freeze. Heels digging into the wet earth, tense under Eddie’s grasp, eyes wide and darting around like something might come crashing through the treeline.

“Hey. Look at me.” In a voice that’s reserved for you and you alone, Eddie speaks softly, calmly, letting out all the tension of his pull to just hold, instead. “You’re safe. There’s nothing out here that’s gonna hurt us, okay? Steve went all the way back down to the bottom to make sure. No more gate. No nothin’. It’s just a lake.”

“Just a lake,” you repeat, like a mantra as you take another step. The water rolls over your feet; Eddie murmurs his encouragement while leading.

“That’s right, sweetheart. It’s just a lake. Our lake.”

The water rises, up the back of Eddie’s calves, swishing around your shins; the pebble-rock floor shifts with each step. You and Eddie used to spend long summer days here, swimming and picnicking and fucking in the back of the van, syrupy-slow and stretched with time.

“Our lake.” You’re shivering, teeth chattering, even though the air is hot and the water is just-cool.

Eddie rubs at your upper arms, allaying the goosebumps; waterline up to your waists, now. The rock you’re balanced on beneath the surface jolts, and you stumble forward into Eddie’s arms; in a smooth maneuver, he catches you while sinking into a crouch, pulling you both from the safety of the shallows.

Then, your kicking feet meet nothing but the vastness of the lake, nails biting into Eddie’s arms, fear rattling through your spine until Eddie- treading water while valiantly supporting you, too- tosses his black hair back and whoops.

The sound is loud, joyful, ricochets across the lake and bounces back from the other shore. He crows at the sun, startles a laugh out of you as he clings harder, kicking to keep you both afloat- “Holy SHIT! We’re swimming in Lover’s Lake!”

“Holy shit,” you agree, giddy and breathless, nerves turning over into disbelief, excitement. “We’re swimming in our lake.”

Eddie kisses you. It’s sloppy and he misses the middle of your mouth as you both try to keep the other from slipping under, teeth clashing, giggles escaping around the sides. He puts a hand dripping with lake water to your cheek, holding you in place, thumb pressing gentle just under your eye.

“I love you.”

“Love you.” Your reply is swift and just as eager, hand coming to rest at the puckered line of scarring at Eddie’s chest.

Somewhere at the bottom of Lover’s Lake, a twin crack, a Something that was never supposed to be but now just Is.

You feel extraordinarily grateful, awash with we made it, as you and Eddie swim out further, shores in the shape of a heart holding you both from all sides.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x shy!reader #shy!reader

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