#luna writes fics

[moonwqves]

⋮ 𝐬𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤 + 𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐞!𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐧.

───〃★ christian bale!bruce wayne (batman) x reader.

★ — TYPE | headcanons ; fluff ; smut ; sfw + nsfw sections ★ — WORD COUNT | 1.1k ★ — REQUESTED | @wandalfnation ★ — WARNINGS | fem!reader ; reader is described as smaller in both height and stature ; dom!bruce ; size kink ; strength kink ; big cock!bruce ; possessiveness ; reader wears lingerie and heels

18+ ONLY MINORS DNI.

SFW ── ⊹ ˙ . 𖥻 BALE!BRUCE WAYNE . . .

• who buys you endless pairs of high heels because he thinks it’s cute how much shorter you are than him. he’ll always tease you and then make it up to you with more platform shoes. of course you’ll never be as tall as he is without having to stand on a chair beside him, but he'll make sure you have that little bit of extra height when you want it.

• who often waits until you’re home so he can do his workout in front of you. he can do pushups while you’re laying on his back, because he likes to show off how strong he is, and also to prove to you that those big muscles aren’t just for scaring criminals.

• who loves to spoon with you— of course he’s always the big spoon. he loves it because he can wrap himself around you as you tangle up together under the blankets, and you fit so nicely in his big arms.

• who holds your hand because he secretly loves how small your hand feels in his, giving you little squeezes wherever you go. he’s possessive and protective as a side effect of his night job, so it’s inevitable the fact that he’s always got a firm grip on your hand and keeping you close to his side. but he won’t deny, it makes his heart race when he feels your smaller hand squeezing back.

• who also loves it when you hold onto his arm. you always loop your arm through his at parties, and all he does is smirk because he knows the only reason you’re doing it is because you shamelessly love to feel his biceps. so of course he’ll play into it for you, flex his muscles a little for you, give you something nice and firm to hold on to while he guides you around like a prize on his arm.

• who always has his hands on you at parties. everyone knows he’s the prince of the city, the cocky billionaire playboy who gets everything he wants, so of course he has to not-so-subtly let everyone know you’re his at all times. he keeps one large hand around your waist as he parades you through the mansion for everyone to see, occasionally squeezing your ass as he walks past a journalist. he has a reputation to uphold, after all.

NSFW ── ⊹ ˙ . 𖥻 BALE!BRUCE WAYNE . . .

• who can’t help that he subconsciously compares your size to his, especially when you’re in bed. he can’t help the fact that he towers over you, or the fact that his bicep is thicker than your head. he’s addicted to the sight of you beneath him as he pounds into you, and he knows you feel the same; his wide, chiseled torso is the only thing that fills your view as you hold onto him and moan out his name.

• who accidentally discovered that he loves when you wear the high heels he bought you in bed too, and he has a few favorite pairs he likes you to wear. having your legs tossed over his shoulders while you’re wearing stilettos makes him feel all the more powerful and tall, and plus he loves that they match perfectly with the lacy black lingerie sets he likes to spoil you with.

• who can easily overpower you in bed if he really wanted to, but although he doesn’t always do it he never fails to remind you of the fact that he can. he can fit one of his hands around both your wrists, and he’ll hold your hands together and pin your wrists against the sheets above your head while he kisses you.

• who loves it when you’re being a brat because it gives him reason to use his strength on you. he isn’t always a hard dom, but when you start begging him to use you like that, all he wants to do is give you everything you want. he’ll get rough because he knows you like it, making sure you’re aware of every inch of his muscular body

• who likes to wrap one hand around your neck temptingly. he never puts any real pressure, his grip always barely just light as a feather; a reminder that he’s there, that his massive hands fits so nicely around your throat, and nothing more. he’ll give a gentle squeeze in warning when you start to act bratty, and it always sends your mind reeling.

• who lets you grind on his thighs to get off whenever you want. he’s a busy man; he has an entire city to look after, so he doesn’t always have time to dedicate to making love or even just for a quickie. but you have needs and he’s well aware of that, so he’s more than happy to let you sit on his lap and make yourself cum. he gets to sit back, occasionally tensing his thigh and bouncing his leg a little, and he’s rewarded with the beautiful sounds you make as you desperately grind your sensitive clit against his muscle. he adores the broken whimpers that leave your lips when he stiffens his thigh unexpectedly to throw off your pace and keep you at the edge for just a few seconds longer.

• who loves the way you grip his broad shoulders when you ride him. his shoulders are one of your favorite parts of his body (besides, well, everything else). you’ve had your ankles dangling over his shoulders more times than you can count, but conveniently they also make for the perfect place to hold onto while he’s got you bouncing on his lap, like built-in arm rests just for you.

• whose cock is definitely bigger than average but he knows how to use it. you both know it’s not going to fit, but vengeance is perseverant, and that never stops him from trying anyway. he won’t lie and say it doesn’t massively inflate his ego when he sees you struggling to take him in all the way, but watching you moan and writhe in overwhelming pleasure because of his size is the best part of the whole experience.

© moonwqves 2024. do not repost or translate. ── ⊹ ˙ . 𖥻 want to join my taglist? send an ask!

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. — @sadattorney

if you enjoyed this, please reblog or let me know in a comment or an ask! feedback helps so much with motivation and gives me energy to continue writing :) thanks for reading!

[dapper-lil-arts]

I'm not the kind of person that's like "Here let me fix the canon" usually but like holy crap gen 5 implied a lot of messed up shit about our hero Twilight Sparkle lmao

[chochuuya]

scenarios with tr boys!

..that i hc fit them best (･ω<)☆

characters included: mikey, baji, izana, takemichi, smiley, rindou, yamagishi, draken, chifuyu, kakucho, inui, ran, kokonoi, peh-yan, hakkai, takuya, angry, kazutora, hanma, sanzu, mitsuya, shinichiro & shion

every time you sit on the couch, he takes that as an invitation to lay his head on your lap and make himself comfortable. he would also expects you to play with his hair.

mikey, baji, izana, takemichi, smiley

you take off his glasses for fun. usually, he would just tell you to give them back but when you put them on and start to act like him, he will have no choice to think that it's the cutest thing he's ever seen. he quickly snaps out of it before his smile could get any wider and demanding them back.

rindou, yamagishi

he claims it is a simple "let's get ice cream after school". while you were enjoying the beautiful sunset as it slowly paints the sky orange, he would only look at you as his cheeks slowly become pink tinted. he's smitten.

draken, chifuyu, kakucho, inui

trust me on this.. he is the type of guy to have no shame when it comes to his crush. all his cold demeanour is out of the window, maybe acts as a tsundere sometimes. he would purposely bump into you, just so he can help you up with rizz. (i have the "you ladies alright?" in mind iykwim 😭)

ran, kokonoi, peh-yan

this person is very shy and would not even be able to get his words out when you approach him and his friends. would most likely hide, run or even pretend he doesn't see you. will only talk once he's used to your presence (yet his heart feels like a construction site and alarms in his head goes off).

hakkai, chifuyu, takuya, angry

he would lean down and whisper in your ear when you are not aware that he's there. he does not realize his impact and how it makes you flustered? maybe he does.. (✧ω✧) he also takes pride in the fact that, he completely towers over you when you guys are standing close to each other.

ran, kazutora, hanma, sanzu, shion

brings this tiny bag everywhere filled with chapstick, cute bandaids and even hair ties. most of it is yours and he calls it "the emergency pouch". i also feel like he's the type of person to take really really long showers instead of venting when he can, it helps him calm down :C

mitsuya, baji, shinichiro

please do not steal, copy, translate, repost to other sites or claim my writings as your own. plagiarism is real!

this one is a little challenging bcs many of the boys could fit in any of these (°ロ°).. but either way, i hope you like this one! all likes, reblogs and comments are vv appreciated ♡( ◡‿◡ )

[anishenanigans]

aand done!! This took forever, but it's the first time I've successfully finished one of these templates and it was a lot of fun :]

[husbandjoel]

male bird courting | tlou jesse

3 times jesse embarrassed himself acting tough +1 time it worked

pairing: au beefcake!jesse x sunshine fem!oc — oc has no name, just referred to as ‘pretty girl’. more of jesse’s POV!

word count: 4.7k

warnings: mentions of violence, blood, death and sexual themes (no smut), romance, kissing and jesse being somewhat of a meathead. this is meant to be silly and cliche!

a/n: this will have inaccuracies of characters everywhere bc this is purely self indulgent. also the horde that happened on the show has been changed bc i said so. CALL IT AN AU IF YOU WILL. I have an oc locked IN but obvs imagine whomever as there’s minimal description! this idea came to me from the one scene of jesse in his slutty black t-shirt hammering away. mhm.

gif credit @pedgito

The first time was when Tommy Miller brought her to the stables whilst Jesse and Ellie were tossing hay bales for the stables.

"This is where our livestock are kept. The Jackson community — established and taken in by Maria and her father — helped build this from the ground up." His gravelled voice travelled far enough for Ellie Williams and her friend, Jesse, to halt their hauling of hay bales.

"Who is that?" Jesse asked as he watched the backs of Tommy and the new stranger tour around the stables, hands patting a few of the horses hoofing at the dried mud for some treats.

Ellie shrugged, "Haven't seen her before."

As the pair disappeared round the corner, Jesse caught a glimpse of her side profile, dimple so apparent as her eyes crinkled whilst speaking with the younger Miller brother. He didn't need an up close inspection to deduce that whoever Tommy was touring around the Commune; she was an outstanding level of beautiful.

Ellie swatted him to get back to her least favourable task, hoping Jesse would take the brunt of it so they could finish early and head back so she could stop by Dina's to smoke.

As they resumed, talking amongst themselves in between grunts of throwing the heavy stacks of hay, Tommy and the new resident rounded the stables and made a direct bee-line to where they were finishing up.

"Jesse, Ellie." Tommy called, "I want you to meet our new resident of Jackson." He gestured toward her, both of them halting their competitive hauling of the last of the bales. Tommy smiled, "I was jus' giving her a tour of the Commune before setting her up. This is Ellie Williams, she came here with my brother Joel, that you jus' met back there."

She nodded to confirmation before smiling and reaching a hand out to Ellie to shake as she announced her name. It took Ellie by surprise, nobody of their age really shook hands as a formal introduction. Also, most physical contact was limited since the Outbreak; people were suspicious of transmittable viruses.

"And this is, Jesse, uh—Jesse." Tommy internally cringed, not knowing the younger male's surname.

"Jesse Jesse, huh?" She teased as she went to shake Jesse's hand, "I won't forget that."

Jesse made quick work to rub off the majority of the clammy sweat on the palm of his hands, "Aha—" I won't forget you, he thought to himself, "—You just arrive here?"

"Just last night." She didn't go into further detail as she stepped back in line with Tommy Miller, her confidence shrouded by whatever history she had beyond the walls of the Jackson Commune.

Jesse nodded with a little more vigour than expected, flicking his hair from his eyes as he wanted to encourage her to speak more for his own self indulgence. Her voice was honey-coated, her tone dripping with an essence that enticed him in a Siren-like way. He was already stuck.

      As Tommy, Ellie and the new girl continued the conversation, Jesse blinked a couple of times as he stared so obviously at her. The Spring Sun beaming on her skin, although, he thought, the glow was radiating from within her. Her doe-eyes scrunching as Ellie made a crude joke, that dimple he had noticed in full effect making him almost whimper like a kicked dog.

        She spared him a glance with a friendly smile, and he felt himself turn to goo, a lopsided smile showing on his face.

        Get it together, Jesse.

        He straightened up, his chest puffing outward, arms crossing over his torso as he made an effort to pronounce his biceps. The cuffs of his black t-shirt straining against his muscles. Immediately, he rid of the grin on his face, tightening his jaw and pulling his brows into a sultry furrow. Eyes narrowed, although the sun was beating on his back — minor details, really.

        Suddenly, Jesse was attempting to make himself three times bigger than he was, nodding along to Ellie who spared a second glance at him; her brows furrowing for a separate reason to his.

"Well, hate to cut this short—" Tommy cut in as Ellie mouthed a 'What the fuck are you doing?' to Jesse. The Miller male clapped his hands together, "—I gotta show her where she will be stayin'."

        "It was nice meeting you both." She was genuine in her statement, both Ellie and Jesse catching the subtle lisp in her speech.

Jesse remained stoic and, well, large as he nodded, his lips pressed outward to give off a pout — it was then Tommy's turn to side-eye the guy.

"Likewise. If you like the horses, I can show you more of them. Maybe, even ride me—" The incidental sentence was out before his brain could compute to filter it. Eyes going wide, Jesse felt mortified as all sets of eyes stared at him, exasperated by what his sentence insinuated so soon after meeting the new resident. Knuckles going white as he dug his fingernails into the palm of his hands, Jesse huffed out a nervous laugh, "I meant, I meant ride them with me."

He had fumbled. He knew it.

It was only when a small, knowing smile crossed her face that Jesse let out a breath he had been holding. His broad shoulders deflating as the heat of embarrassment reached the top of his ears. He couldn't recall being this fucking sloppy with his game when he first met Dina. Even then, he had just met this girl, there was no immediate intention of scoring her in bed.

"Alrigh. . ." Brows furrowing for a moment, Tommy let a chuckle escape his lips as he watched Ellie press her lips into a thin line to prevent any laughter escaping. "Well, we'll be goin'. Thanks for y'all's help with livestock — Ellie, Joel was askin' for ya to swing by for some food later tonight." He tipped his head as a goodbye and guided the new girl away from the stables.

As they left, Ellie scoffed the request from Joel, soon ridding her thought of it as she turned to Jesse.

"What?" Jesse didn't want to know what. Actually, he wanted his question to be rhetorical.

"You were like a fucking male bird." Ellie stated making Jesse raise his brows. She dropped the string that held the hay bale together before hunching her shoulders, emphasising her arms as she mocked his pout, "Save a horse, ride me! All you needed was a couple of bright feathers sticking out of your ass." She laughed.

Jesse stared at her blankly as she mocked him further.

"Shut up and get the last of this bale on the trailer, so I can go get a drink." He picked up the penultimate bale with ease, cursing himself for how he acted as he watched her frame becoming smaller in the distance side by side with Tommy Miller.

Ellie, in fact, did not shut up that night.

The second time was a handful of weeks into Spring later. He had been watching Ellie spar with another Patrol member in the barn, offering her insight in how to retaliate in an appropriate manner towards her sparring mate. Back leant against a wooden pillar, and arms crossed as his eyes watched for any faults as they resumed their sparring, the door to the barn slid open; earning a turn of his head in interest.

He would've chastised whoever it was, if it weren't the leader of their Community and the whole reason they could spar so openly and loudly without the infected blitzing through.

Maria Miller watched as Ellie and the male continued their fight, Ellie happily pinning her component down with his arm twisted behind his back. Next to her stood the whole reason why Dina and Ellie nicknamed Jesse "Captain Male Bird" for a week after his incident upon meeting the pretty girl.

Immediately, Jesse pushed himself off of the pillar and walked toward them with a big grin on his features. He had seen her in passing a couple of times after their first introduction, most of the time he had been solely focussed on leading Patrol as she passed in the street with a wheelbarrow, or a horse on rope.

"Hey, Maria." Jesse spoke, acknowledging pretty girl also. He could feel it coming before he could prevent it from happening. As Maria greeted him, he crossed his arms across his chest, hands beneath his biceps to push the meat of his muscles out. Chin slightly tucked as he clenched his jaw, his eyes darting to the female who was staring past him at the pair fighting.

OK, he almost felt offended. But, then she looked back to him and offered another one of her smiles — dimple present — and he forgave her. No questions asked.

"Ellie is coming along in her sparring." Maria complimented, "Jesse, you'll now have this one in Patrol starting two weeks from today. She will be under your watch so I need you to put things in place for her to be prepared for Patrol in fourteen days."

Jesse didn't miss a beat, "Of course." He looked in her god damn pretty eyes, his tongue going fat, "You'll be under me—I mean, under my watch. I'll look after her, Maria."

The heat of embarrassment scorched in the tips of his ears, but neither women paid mind to his minor slip up as Maria bid farewell; leaving them to stand together. Partially alone for the first time.

Think of something. Anything! Jesse clambered at ideas to talk about, being mindful not to present a topic where he would trip over his tongue the minute she looked him directly in the eyes and entranced him with her tone. Speak about the fucking wheelbarrow, how good she looked wheeling it away — no. Scratch that.

"Is this part of training?" She asked before Jesse could finalise a topic to talk about with her.

Thankful, Jesse hummed, "Yeah. Sort of. A slim chance, but if you come toe-to-toe with a Raider, it's best to have some quality fighting skills under your belt. We try not to play dirty together, but it doesn't matter out on the field."

"A raider is a raider, right?"

"Right." Jesse affirmed, "You won't have to worry about all that though."

She looked up at him, "How so?"

"Well—You'll be with me."

"Oh, they go running when they see you?" She teased and Jesse let a smile slip past his brooding facade. She hummed, rolling onto the heels of her feet, "Can I try?"

"Ellie and Karl are done." Jesse watched the pair shake hands, wiping their noses of blood, Ellie quick to throw a wave to the girl standing next to him.

As Ellie approached, pretty girl quipped, "I could spar with you?"

Jesse and Ellie shared a laugh and the girl questioned their humour. She was smaller in frame compared to Jesse, in height and weight. Presumably, he had years of experience on her head even when they were similar in age. It would be out of the question, a record breaking fight that lasted a second.

There was a shine of disappointment in her face and, well, Jesse didn't like that he caused the wrinkle between her brows.

"OK. One round." Ellie gawped at Jesse as he casually put his hands on the pretty girl's shoulders, guiding her to the middle of the barn. He craned his neck to look back at Ellie, who began shamelessly flapping around like a bird. His middle finger went up.

Pretty girl turned around as they reached the middle of the barn, her eyes shifting to the horses pulling at the Play & Hay ball she had tied up for them in their pens that morning. Jesse watched as her face filled with glee, excited they were playing with them after she begged a few of the farmers to let her use them.

How could he possibly fight her?

Regardless, this was a chance to impress her. Gently. He didn't want to break any bones in her body, but he wanted to reaffirm that he could protect her against Raiders with his fighting skills.

"OK." He started, feet parting as he took his stance, "We'll take it slow, I'll go easy for you. Assess my movements and counteract them, if you can."

"Got it." She straightened up, her arms swinging back and forth to warm herself up for their spar. Ellie gave her a thumbs up from behind Jesse and she gave a playful wink.

Jesse wasn't jealous of that. No. But, he wouldn't let it slide as he took the opportunity of her distraction to advance toward her, he wouldn't be aggressive but he would prove a point that distraction could result in fatality on Patrol. No matter if he found her attractive or not.

As his stronger arm came out to grab her, Jesse's vision of the barn went from upright, to upside down, to finally staring up at the wooden slacks of the roof as the wind got knocked out of him; the dust between the hay unsettled and puffed into the air from the sheer force of his body landing in it.

He let out an 'oof' on impact, attempting to lift his head, before he saw a fist strike down like thunder. The sheer force knocking his head back into the concrete beneath the hay and his vision knocked black as he laid unconscious.

When he woke, he could hear the commotion around him, his eyes still bleary as he groaned out.

"Oh my god!" Her voice filtered through and Jesse furrowed his brows, hands coming to his chest, "Oh my god—I'm so sorry, I—I just got a fright, oh my god, Ellie, what do I do?"

Ellie's laughter came in thick, "That was fucking amazing!"

Jesse scrunched his eyes shut, before blinking a few times to get his vision back, two figures knelt above him. He went to sit up, only to feel the severe ache throb at the back of his head, stars shining vividly in his vision allowing him to gently be pushed back down. His head cushioned by a jacket.

"Jesse, I am so sorry." She whined, "Just lay there for a minute. You might have a concussion."

"Go slow and easy, he said." Ellie threw her head back, clutching her stomach as she found hilarity in the situation. She huffed a few breaths as pretty girl tended to the gash on the bridge of Jesse's nose.

Recollection from his short-term memory began, "What the fuck."

"Where did that even come from?" Ellie questioned, sitting on her backside, watching Jesse slowly come to his senses.

"Well. . . Before the outbreak, my dad had me going to self-defence classes the minute I could walk and talk, really." She mumbled an apology as Jesse hissed from the ache in his nose, she looked to Ellie, "I guess, reflexes never really go away."

"Reflexes? You threw a man twice your size over your shoulder! You have got to show me some moves." Ellie pleaded, her cheeks flushed with giddiness.

"Of course. . . Are you OK, Jesse?"

From the floor, Jesse tried to keep a cool composure, finally zoning back into the situation. The concoction of the dull throb from his brain being rattled against his skull and the pure mortification of being knocked unconscious so suddenly after claiming subtle bragging rights to being the winner of the spar even prior to beginning made Jesse link his fingers together, resting on his stomach as he silently processed his defeat.

He pulled an expression of coolness, pretending to shrug off his ego being bruised.

"I'm good." He shrugged.

"I am so sorry, again." Her fingers carefully brushed his hair from his forehead, a playful smile reaching her lips, "I'll go slow and easy next time."

"Help me up."

The third time was almost a sign for Jesse that pretty girl was a bad omen to his usual calm and collected cool nature.

The fourteen day window of training and education on their Patrol logistics had come to an end and Maria was satisfied enough with pretty girl's knowledge and understanding in depth for her to branch out on a Patrol day. She had gone with Jesse to see Maria, fist pumping as she walked out of her office, her hands shaking Jesse's bicep from glee at her green light to patrol.

There was a naivety to her excitement. He could count on one hand how many people were eager to go on patrol missions. Ellie and Joel, and him. The people tending to the other aspects of the Jackson Commune, tended not to stray far from the confides of their sector, understandably warranted, of course.

        Albeit nervous as he felt a great responsibility to keep her safe, Jesse fed into her excitement, praising her for her hard effort; also offering gratitude for lending a helping hand with the sparring.

        Their encounter kept between him, her and Ellie. And, Dina. Not that he knew about that.

        "You’ll attend the brief with the other patrollers before heading out tomorrow." He advised to her.

        "OK. Wow—This is kind of exciting, right?"

        "If you like this kind of stuff, yeah." Jesse shrugged, "You're not nervous?"

        She nodded, "Yeah. Last time I came face to face with an infected, I almost died." She shivered at the memory, "And, I've met some Raiders. They gave me a nasty scar, the width of my shoulder to my belly button. It's pretty ugly."

        "I don't think there could be a correct sentence where you and ugly related." Jesse spoke confidently, without fumbling over his words. They had, had enough time together for Jesse to relatively overcome his bad case of 'fat tongue' around her.

        Especially after the barn incident, pretty girl had whipped up a cake with icing that wrote 'Haven't had any complaints yet.' referring to her running joke asking about how his head was after it being smacked so viciously against concrete. They had shared the cake together, their conversation flowing effortlessly meaning Jesse could feel himself falling harder for her.

        They had spent a good amount of time together over the fourteen days, so, Jesse felt more at ease and less male bird courting female bird poorly.

Pretty girl blinked at his compliment, "Thanks, Jesse." He smiled down at her, finally feeling a win was on his side as he held the door open for her to the Tipsy Bison for a celebratory drink.

        The bar was relatively busy, it was a Friday night and most of the Commune had fulfilled their duties to the community, leaving them some wiggle room of two rest days. Thus meaning, their bellies would be full of whatever alcoholic beverage of their fancy to wash away any wandering thoughts back to times they prayed to forget.

        It was pretty girl's first time there. She wasn't particularly a heavy drinker, but she had her fair share of hangovers throughout the years. There was no initial plan to get that drunk, seeing as her first ever patrol was the next day and, although she was aware of Jesse's state of the obvious soft spot for her, she didn't take advantage of the fact that he would easily take that 'Patrol Privilege' away.

        A few heads turned upon their entry, mostof them turning back to their conversations, aside from Ellie and Dina who were waving at the pair from a corner far into the room. Hadn't it been for their relatively vigorous hand waving, Jesse and pretty girl may have not seen them for how dimly the scene was lit.

        As she averted her gaze elsewhere, Jesse watched on as both Ellie and Dina frantically pointed at his hair, incoherent with their mouthing. Nevertheless, Jesse's confidence fell short as he snatched a spoon from the table adjacent to him, inspecting his appearance through the convex mirror. Nothing out of the ordinary, Jesse shared his expression of lack of patience with the two — now snickering — girls.

        "Find us a seat. I'll grab the first round." He meant all the rounds that she would like, not that she needed to know that. He caught her feet turning in the direction of Ellie and Dina and he was quick to guide her in the opposite direction with one palm to her waist, "Preferably away from those two."

        Heading to the bar, Jesse slipped between two older men finding their sorrows at the bottom their whiskies, waving down the bartender, Seth, to order drinks. Elbow leant, regrettably, against the sticky surface, Jesse turned his attention to where pretty girl had chosen their seats.

        She sat, a polite smile on her face as a man towered above her. Whatever the conversation was, her body language was reading anything but comfortable.

        Immediately abandoning his position at the bar, Jesse bee-lined for her, his chest puffing and jaw clenched for the opposite reason in which he's used to doing so. His large palm came into contact with the other male's arm, firmly turning him on the spot away from pretty girl, and in the direct pathway of Jesse.

        "Hey, buddy. My girlfriend isn't interested." He deepened his voice an octave and pretty girl's eyes went wide, her hand pressing against her forehead as Jesse mean-mugged the stranger.

        "Girlfriend? You didn't tell me you were dating?"

        ". . . Jesse—This is my brother."

+1

        The horde came in with little warning. Fingers splintered as they desperately clawed themselves entry into the Commune, jaws snapping at the hunger for flesh. Bullets ricocheted off the surroundings, some hitting a few stragglers but not enough to keep them at bay as they broke through the barrier that separated the living from the dead. 

        Eager to protect and maintain the quality of their Commune, all hands were on deck, aside from the obvious candidates that didn't fit the role of protectors of Jackson. Guns in hands, the walls and streets were manned as the residents shot from all angles to prevent the horse from advancing within their home.

        It was no easy feat, as all kinds of infected clambered in, taking down people whose guns didn't protect them enough against the onslaught occurring. In amongst the chaos, Jesse was shooting down what he could, his knife unsheathed as he took on some Clickers that were feasting upon defenceless residents that had been knocked over.

        Kicking the deceased Clicker down, making a point to put a bullet through its head as it hit the concrete beneath it, Jesse assessed the situation around him; his breath wavering as he watched the people he had grown close to be mowed down. 

        Their training had prepared them for this. It had been expressed as a rarity, if not, completely out of the question that an infected horde would breach their safe haven in Wyoming and they'd be left to fight for all their livelihoods that was meticulously built for years and years. Regardless of their preparation, the ultimate shock of these creatures making an appearance was a hard pill to swallow. Even for the likes of Jesse.

        Gun lifted, Jesse popped a few Runners, grunting as he reloaded, his ears ringing with the cacophony of wails of the dying members of their community. He could feel the bile scorch in his throat, stepping over dead bodies to get a cleaner shot at the infected.

        Exhaling through his nose, he shot down another Runner, his aim faltering as he spotted pretty girl amongst the moving bodies, the butt of her gun being brought down on an already confirmed dead infected. Her face sprayed with human blood, eyes widened with fear as she stumbled away from the corpses.

        He took a step forward, calling her name out making her snap her head towards where she heard the faint call. Lips parted and chest heaving, she waved casually at him as if they were crossing paths on an ordinary day in the Commune. For a moment, he chuckled at her gesture, waving back before locking back in — bullets flying through the air as he made his way across the street to her.

        Continuously delayed getting to her, the fight continued for longer than anticipated. It seemed there was an endless amount of infected bustling through the broken gates, a Bloater spotted feet above the rest. This had sent a few people reeling, the shooters from above doing their best to take it down to no avail.

        Tommy Miller took that task on the moment he saw the Bloater heading his wife's way.

        Bloater distracted, Jesse lost sight of her, his head snapping in all directions, anticipating the worst. There was a moment of turmoil, before he spotted her further away, helping the injured but not bitten people up by the arms whilst she shot in the opposite direction.

        Amidst the carnage of the bloodbath, pretty girl looked angelic to Jesse, although slick with mud and blood, her gritted teeth bared as she released an unquenchable anger on the infected close by. If they made it out of it alive, Jesse ought to ask her on a proper date. What else has he got to lose?

        Her back turned for a moment, kneeling to help a woman up, and Jesse watched in real time as a Clicker advanced to her defenceless body, her name leaving his mouth in sheer panic before he broke out into a sprint; feet pounding against the ground to get to her.

        The Clicker had managed to catch her off guard when she turned, a scream escaping her throat as it slammed her into the ground, its fungal blossomed head inches away from hers as she fought hard against it.

        She closed her eyes shut tight, a cry replacing the scream as her arms became tired from holding the heavy body away from her. Nobody particularly wanted to die when the time wasn't right, but the odds didn't look to favour her as she grew weaker.

        As her hands slipped, she braced for impact of the infected sinking into the meat of her neck, her breath caught at the back of her throat as she watched Jesse throw the Clicker off of her body, his face thunderous as he took his steel-toe capped boot and brought it down on the Clicker's head. The sheer force of the stomp killed the Clicker, but he didn't stop.

        Boot squelching in the residue of the innards of the Clicker, Jesse cocked his gun and put a bullet through its chest for good measure. He was seething, the muscles in his arms flexing as he continued his battery on the singular — what once was — threat.

        The heels of her hands pressed into the ground to hold her weight, pretty girl watched Jesse with her mouth agape. Her eyes trailing over his body, he could've been a sculpture carved out of marble. She blinked a couple of times, brought back to the present as Jesse turned to her, broad chest heaving as he offered a hand out to help her up.

           As he helped her up, he rattled out, "I thought I told you to watch your back during our training."

        "You told me not to worry." She stammered over her breathlessness, "Because I had you."

        Jesse mulled it over and shook his head, "I did not mean—"

        "—Will you shut up and give me a kiss."

        Jesse didn't even hesitate. Feverishly, he pulled her in by her hand, throwing it over his shoulder as his hands pressed firmly across her back. Lips pressed against each other as their chests met, Jesse smirked into her lips, the idea of her feeling his toned muscles beneath his clothes. Despite his warranted cockiness, if pretty girl concentrated hard enough, she’d be able to feel the immense pounding of his heart. The endless amounts of showing himself off in front of her, resulted in a desperate anticipation to see if she felt an ounce of the same as he did. Even if she didn’t have half of the feelings, Jesse had enough to spare for the both of them.

Her delicate hands slipped from behind his head and onto his pecs, Jesse flexing them as the palms of her bloodied hands pressed against the fabric of his shirt. He was in such a state of euphoria, he couldn’t hear Maria Miller shouting harshly at them from the tops of the walls — pretty girl neither.

She pulled away slightly, their lips still brushed against each other, “I felt like a female bird being courted just now.”

“Shut the fuck up.” He pressed another kiss to her lips as she laughed.

Jesse was going to kill Ellie Williams.

[prettyboytsum]

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ complaining about his size cw: afab! reader, daddy kink, slightly possessive, initial discomfort disclaimer: all characters are aged up! mdni! wc: 302

“‘s too big, can’t fit!” you whine, bucking your hips as he starts pushing the tip of his large cock into you. tears pricking as you let out a soft moan of discomfort—hands on his chest as you instinctively try to push him away. "too big, daddy!" “i know, baby. i know,” he murmurs reassuringly into your ear. one hand playing with your clit as he tries to dull the pain of accommodating his girth. “but don’t you wanna be a good girl for me, hm? wanna be daddy’s good girl?”

you let out a gasp, now gripping his shoulders as you nod frantically. you bite your lip, a muffled squeal leaving you as he pushes another inch in.

“oh fuck, gotta relax for me, yeah? sucking me in, can’t even move, princess,” he groans, hiding in the crook of your neck as he pushes deeper. you let out another whine, the pain mixing in with pleasure as you start bucking your hips to chase a familiar high. “atta girl, we’ll make it fit.”

“so big—so big,” you blabber mindlessly as he bottoms out, both of you moaning in unison.

“daddy too big for you?” he whispers, planting wet kisses on his neck. his tone is hardly apologetic—if anything, it’s almost mocking. “daddy too big for his pretty pussy?”

you nod dumbly, loud whines escaping your lips as he pulls out before pushing himself back in. his thrusts become more aggressive as his fingers tweak and pull on every inch of skin he can hold onto.

“too bad, princess,” he growls, pinning your wrists above your head as he leans against your legs so that you’re practically folded in half. “because it's the only cock that’s ever gonna fuck you this good.”

toji, suna, geto, eren, sukuna, daichi, reiner, ushijima, iwaizumi, tsukishima

ⓒ prettyboytsum 2024. all works are posted under this account on tumblr.com and are protected by copyright laws. do not plagiarise these works on any other platform or account.

[fuck1ng-queen]

Better than the series

Noah Sebastian x Reader 

Rating: 18+

Warnings: light discussion, you being a bit shitty, jealousy, oral sex, Noah using that damn mustache

Author comments: hi bestiessss, how are you? if you follow me, you may have seen a post i made about mustache!noah a few days ago and honestly, i didn't think that post would get so many notes (which makes me think that mustache!noah is something everyone is interested in). anyway, i'm going to hell for thinking about noah like that and i'm taking all of you with me, kisses!

"It was great, guys! Thank you so much! See you next week!" You said, pretending not to be so enthusiastic.

You finished your work and lowered the screen of your laptop with excitement. Friday afternoons were always full of expectations. The daily stress of adult life kept you away from your boyfriend much more than you would have liked, so the closer Friday night, the sacred moment for both of you, got, the more butterflies danced in your stomach. Of course, you weren't a little girl anymore, and you weren't in the "getting to know him" stage, but damn, when you realized who you were dating, it was hard not to feel like jelly.

You took a quick but strategically effective shower, dressed comfortably, perfumed your hair with Noah's favorite scent, and quickly ordered a car to be there as soon as possible.

With a backpack on your back and a smile on your face, you arrived ready for your special evening with Noah. It didn't matter what you were going to do, what mattered was that you were together. The door opened and he greeted you with a warm hug and a kiss before you snuggled down on the couch. How good it was to be with him, you felt as if the week hadn't passed you by, as if being in the warmth of his arms dissolved all the pain and worry in your life. You just wanted time to freeze so you could stay there forever, just you and him.

"I counted the minutes until today. Our Fridays are sacred, but some weeks are so exhausting that they make it even more special," you smiled and patted Noah's cheek. "What do you want to do today?"

He kissed your forehead, the mustache he had invented to keep on lately tickling you slightly and making you giggle.

"I love our Fridays too. But there's one thing… the guys are organizing a gaming session tonight," Noah replied.

You pulled away from his embrace a little, just for you to see him more clearly, blinking your eyes a few times in a row. "But today?" you asked, confused. "Noah, it's our night."

Noah scratched the back of his head, knowing his explanation wouldn't go over well, but he tried to explain himself anyway.

"It's Jay's birthday. He's alone at the exchange and we want to give a little joy to his day. I promise it won't take long."

You understand that Jay is alone and he misses his friends, especially Noah since they've known each other for so long, but you can't hide your frustration and immediately cross your arms in disappointment.

"You're always talking to them, we hardly have time for each other."

"But we're together every week, we see each other all the time, and Jay? Look at his side, the guy's all alone there. I bet you don't want to feel alone."

You stand up, getting off Noah's lap and reply, still frustrated, "Alone? That's how you're leaving me, alone. You should pay attention to me. It's Friday, Noah, our day!"

He stands up, and although you love that look on his face, his already closed face gets on your nerves. You hated it when Noah did that.

"Fuck, am I not here? I don't leave you alone, have I ever left you alone? I understand that today is our day, I really do, but you could put yourself in other people's shoes a little," Noah sighs, trying not to be a jerk and get into an argument with you. He thinks of better words to say to you before he continues. "He needs it today, he's been feeling very lonely lately."

You exchange glances: from his side, the silent plea for you not to be as angry as you already seem to be; from yours, the growing tension and frustration. You sigh, not wanting to start a fight, but feeling deeply annoyed.

"Fine," you just give in, seriously. "But I'm not happy about it."

Noah kisses your lips and only replies, "I promise it'll be quick. You can stay in the room with me while I play, I don't want you to feel left out."

You enter the room together, but the atmosphere is still charged. Noah begins to set up the computer for the game while you sit on the bed, trying to hide your disappointment.

"Gotta call Emma so we can watch something on call. At least that way I won't be totally left out and I'll have someone to talk to."

"Sure, good idea. Just don't be too mean to the character on the show," he replies absent-mindedly, but trying to be nice.

"Don't worry, he'll have all our attention," you reply, giving him a cynical smile.

Noah nods, a little relieved, as you pick up the phone to call your friend. He sits down in his gaming chair, turning on the neon light in the room, and off the regular bedroom light to make the room comfortable for both of you. He adjusts the headset to start while you lie on the bed fiddling with your cell phone, clearly uncomfortable with the situation.

"Okay, guys, I'm here. Let's get started before Jay shows up."

You call your friend, and she somehow comes over to keep you company. You sit down on the bed with your laptop next to you and start watching the show. Noah, next to you, remains focused on the game, occasionally casting a furtive glance at you. A scene begins, highlighting the show's main character. He's handsome, wearing a shirt that, despite its formal appearance, is brightly colored and has some of its buttons undone, tight jeans, and aviator glasses that hide his deep brown eyes. But what really catches the eye is his distinctive mustache.

"Look at that man, that mustache is quite a sight," Emma jokes, her voice electronically present in the room. "This guy definitely knows how to use it to his advantage."

Noah, between the music playing and the laughter of his friends, hears you both burst out laughing, the sound echoing around the room, and he makes a point of very discreetly removing one side of the headset from his ear, curious to know why you're laughing.

"The mustache is like… a sign of confidence. I bet he must be amazing in bed."

"Totally! Do you think he's good in bed just because he has a mustache?"

"Absolutely! He must know exactly how to use it. Just think, a guy with a mustache like that must have tricks we can't even dream of."

Noah finds himself increasingly interested in the conversation and can't help but mute the sound of his headphones, trying his best to pay attention, one eyebrow raised in excitement to know how far your conversation is going, and just pretend to play.

"It must be the kind that takes your breath away in seconds," you say, unaware that Noah is listening. "The kind that knows what they're doing, the kind that's… experienced."

"A lot more than most. If a guy with a mustache like that paid attention to me, I wouldn't care about anything else, I'd just need him and a glass of water to live."

You laugh at Emma's comment, but then you look at Noah out of the corner of your eye and become serious again. "Yes, but some people prefer to play."

Noah continues with his temporarily forgotten game, pretending not to be hearing, but his expression with his back to you shows that he heard every word you said. "To play, huh?" He just moves his lips, speaking silently.

The conversation between you continues, full of laughter and bold comments about the character on the show. Noah keeps the microphone muted for long moments, discreetly observing the interaction.

The show ends and Emma says goodbye to you. Your phone vibrates with a message from your friend:

"It was fun, but I'm going to leave you to sort things out. Good luck!"

You reply with a few words: "Thanks. See you, Emma."

You get into bed, feeling a little better for the laughs with her, but still annoyed that Noah's game is taking longer than he promised.

"Good night, Noah," you say, turning your back on him, then mutter something inaudible, still slightly annoyed, but mostly frustrated. He should have at least warned you that the evening was going to be like this and that you'd be ready to do something else.

Noah doesn't answer, otherwise you might think he was listening the whole time. He sighs, knowing it will take an extra effort to get your attention again.

(…)

The night stretches on and Noah finally shuts down his computer and takes off his headset. He looks at you lying on your back, and even though you're asleep, he knows that you're clearly distant. Without forgetting how you've been thinking about the man in the series, he laughs softly, touches his own mustache, and something in him is ignited.

He slowly moves closer, snuggling up to you under the covers, already pushing your hair aside to make room to kiss your neck, deliberately brushing his facial hair. You slowly stir from the tickle you feel and finally wake up when you feel Noah's big hand playing with the nipple of your breast under your clothes.

"Noah…" you sigh, still sleepy. "What are you doing?"

He keeps tracing long kisses down your neck, making you shiver, and in a low, teasing voice he says in your ear, "You think I'm not paying attention, don't you? Those comments about the guy on the show… Do you think he could make you feel that way?"

Your sleep begins to dissipate as he kisses you, making you sigh, feeling your resistance melt away.

"Did you hear that? I was just kidding…" You turn your face to find his almond eyes staring at you with desire, your ass beginning to feel his bulge growing behind you.

He pulls the blanket off you and turns you over on the bed, kneeling in front of you and pulling off your shorts and panties together. He pushes your legs apart and you moan softly, already completely surrendered to the moment.

"Kidding?" His laugh makes you throb. "I'm going to show you that I'm much better than any guy you see on TV."

And he dives between your legs, ready to taste you, but mostly to tease you. He kisses one side of your groin, then the other, making a point of brushing his facial hair against you, noticing how wet and thirsty it makes you.

"Noah… Please…" you moan, trying to move your hips closer to Noah's mouth. He smiles smugly and runs his tongue along your folds, which are throbbing with excitement.

He turns his attention to your clit, sucking and sucking, making everything hotter and wetter. The hairs on his mustache, which you had just imagined tickling you while watching the show, only made you feel more pleasure. Noah tastes you like a hungry man and brings you closer and closer to coming apart.

"Look at you, you tremble every time I run my mustache over that needy pussy… I don't think I'll be shaving anytime soon. Do you want me to shave, babe?" he asks, laughing and rubbing his nose against you.

"N-no Noah, I don't want you to…" and you moan as you feel two of his long fingers penetrating you, unable to finish the sentence. "Noah, please…"

He is relentless in the way he moves his fingers inside you, knowing every point of you, knowing exactly what to do to turn you on. Without much effort, he feels you clenching against his fingers, your thighs shaking in spasms, and he hears your voice break into a loud moan calling out to him as you cum hard in his mouth.

He pulls away from you and kneels in front of your still-spread legs to appreciate your throbbing folds and your flushed, orgasmic face. "You're such a silly girl sometimes." He smiles and runs his fingers, which were inside you moments before, through his own mustache and ends up sucking on his own fingers. "This is for you to learn to appreciate what you have."

And then he just gets up and leaves the room, laughing at the incredulous way you look at him, trying his best to maintain the idiotic character he's just created, even though he knows he'll be buried inside of you in a few minutes, making you cum a few more times to live up to your special Friday.

.

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@lacy1986 @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @kenjipepsi1 @chey-h @concretejunglefm

[hoseoksluna]

— WIP 𐙚 lady beetle | knj

pairing: situationship!namjoon x oc

about: namjoon is a patient man, and he wants you to be the same.

word count: 0.404

note: so i decided to make my babies happy and post a TEASERRRR of my upcoming one shot with kim namjoon himself. since i can't reveal the surprise about what this fic is about, i thought i'd post a little something to get you all even more excited about it. <3 SEE YOU ON SUNDAY MWAH.

warnings: nipple play, praise kink, namjoon is a dangerous man, patience game.

He smirks, that cheek cleft enchanting you all over again. “If you want kisses, then kisses is what you’re gonna get.” 

Your smile lengthens until your cheeks hurt, heated. “I want kisses. Lots of kisses. On different places of my body, too.” 

Namjoon retreats back to your neck, peppering kisses along that column. You whimper, hands hurrying to undo the button of his pants, desperate and arbitrary. But with a disapproving noise, Namjoon stops your hasty movements. Pins your hands behind your back.

“Patience,” he whispers, gliding his lips across the kisses he left behind. Your skin prickles with goosebumps against him, your nipples so stiffened that they ache, and, most unfortunately, you moan softly in impatience. “You’re gonna learn what true patience is, little beetle.” 

Color heats your cheeks and as you grin, you bite your bottom lip. “Be my teacher, Namjoon.” 

He chokes out a groan, dizzied by the idea, one that fades into your yelp when he unexpectedly turns you around and pushes your back against his chest, your arms long and criss-crossed behind you, hands flat against his cock. 

Something tells you this lesson will be one of great difficulty for you. And great pleasure. 

Namjoon cups your jaw, swivels your head to face him a little. “Where do you want those kisses?” 

Your quivering breath fans out across his big hand. “On my nipples.” 

At your quick answer, he makes a sound of approval and with a feathery-light touch he sails his knuckles down the right side of your chest, from your collarbone down to the beginning of your supple breast, where he stops his voyage to study your reaction. As much as you’d die for his fingers to go a little lower, you keep your tremors in tact. Even your fingers remain obedient, relaxed in their position and not tempting his temper. You close your eyes, try your bestest to hold it while you wait it out, and your slick by now creates a pool between your feet. Namjoon’s cock twitches at your goodness and he sighs a little praise into your ear, just for you to hear. It roots deeply in your gut, where it stirs the butterflies that are painted in the color of his eyes. 

His knuckles descend lower and lower, stop at the apex of your nipple, and the nearness is enough for you to stoop in your desperation. 

Something you shouldn’t have done.

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

WIP masterlist

[sugarcoated-lame]

ok ok hear me out.. pre-outbreak tommy miller x sarah’s teacher!reader 👀

joel is stuck picking up some materials for a new job and he knows he’s not gonna make it to the school in time to pick up sarah, so he sends tommy in his place.

you’re used to seeing sarah’s very handsome father each day when you walk your class out of school, exchanging pleasantries with the charming, if not a bit reserved, joel miller. always there amongst the throng of parents, waiting to greet his little girl and ask her how her day went, lifting her heavy backpack onto his own shoulder before waving you goodbye and heading on their way home.

so you’re surprised when you don’t see him on this particular day, your heart falling at the disappointed look on little sarah’s face as she too searches for him.

only to be even more surprised a few moments later when the little girl gasps in excitement before taking off without warning, head of fluffy curls bouncing as she runs to meet another man whose definitely not her father, although there’s something of a resemblance there — all tall and dark flowing curls, and bright, beaming smile framed by a nice mustache — as he walks up the school’s walkway, and practically knocks him over as she wraps herself around him in a hug.

sarah all but drags the man over to you, a toothy grin on her face as she introduces you to her ‘uncle tommy’, who you find out is in fact joel’s younger brother, who’s just as handsome — maybe even more so — and twice as charming.

tommy wasn’t expecting sarah’s teacher to be so damn pretty — joel sure never mentioned it — and he doesn’t hesitate to lay on the charm. asking your name, calling you ‘doll’, telling you what a great teacher his niece always tells him you are, even sending a wink your way before him and sarah make their way across the street to his truck and — oh my god, was he flirting with you?

you spend the next few weeks thinking about him; try as you might not to, his pretty brown eyes and bright smile, those gorgeous freckles and his charming texan drawl, are caught in the back of your mind and just won’t seem to leave. but, things seem to have returned to the normal and you doubt you’ll ever see tommy again since it’s sarah’s father, joel, who’s been picking her up from school everyday in the weeks since.

little do you know, that tommy has spent just as much time thinking about you — sarah’s adorable, sweet, beautiful teacher — and after a few weeks of not being able to get you off his mind, he makes some silly excuse to join his brother in picking his niece up from school. something about surprising sarah, but he mostly just wants to catch a glimpse of you again.

something joel sees right through because sarah had told him through giggles all about you and uncle tommy, and the way you made googly eyes at each other when he picked you up from school a few weeks back, but joel doesn’t mention it.

so you’re surprised to find not one, but two, miller brothers waiting outside the school to pick up sarah today, and even more surprised when the younger miller sidles up and asks for your number, and tells you he’d like to take you out on a date.

idk i’m just in my tommy feels rn, idk if i’ll ever actually write something for this… can someone else pls write it for me haha 😭

[z-eel]

Red Rose Surprise

[a rosekiller kid fic]

BARISTA BARTY | ROSEKILLER | WC: 2.7k

i'm not sure why no one's written a rosekiller kid fic, but i give you this. i will definitely expand on this because i just love this idea so fucking much.

"Stupid strawberry milk."

If Barty was allowed to say one thing publicly without the risk of being fired from his place of employment, he'd probably say fuck big companies who ruined coffee shops for regular ass people. 

Sure, the big coffee chains have been around for years and it’s not like he knew what ordering coffee was like before them, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t despise them.

At least they were taking away the really insufferable customers, or that's what his boss liked to say. The only reason she can say that is because she doesn’t have to deal with them. 

Barty’s known to have a shit attitude. This is especially known in the coffee shops that employed him so many years ago. He doesn't take shit from anyone, and who have been going long enough know that Barty doesn't fuck aroud. 

He’s pretty sure Rosmerta is using his bad attitude in some marketing scheme.

“Stop by The Three Brews and get uniquely insulted by our prickly barista as he makes you latte art.”

He has to give it to her if that is actually what she’s doing, it’s one hell of a marketing tactic.

Still, it doesn’t mean he enjoys dealing with the annoying customers, and sure, he does know how to make the complex orders, and yeah he technically can make them, but it's not like he wants to. There’s a menu for a reason. Barty was not going to make a triple shot latte with a fraction of every type of milk substitute they had in stock. 

I mean, he could use the syrup pumps when people wanted hyper specific orders, but there’s a reason why they were placed so far back. Barty wasn’t going to walk all the way back there when the next customer just wanted an espresso. Getting orders out quickly got him tips and tips were what paid for his lunch.

What really worsened them was Rosmerta's seasonal menu, because now if Barty said they ran out of something they could just point to the menu’s seasonal options. 

“If you’re out, why are you still offering it? The least you could do is take it off the menu."

Apologies Susan, he wasn't aware someone could simply wipe off the words from their laminated menu that was placed in front of the cash register.  

He also hated the menu because it meant he had to put even more effort when serving. It’s not like you could serve a ‘Heart Flutter’ with a frown. It ruins the atmosphere or whatever.

Sometimes he wishes he would’ve just taken Regulus’ money, at least then he wouldn’t be forced to work the morning before Valentine's Day listening to the same romantic pop songs as he wiped down the coffee machine for the umpteenth time. 

One more hour, he just had to hold off for one more hour.

The door chimed and Barty only rolled his eyes when he heard the soft clicking of metal rings rubbing against each other.

“If you're not gonna order, you can make your way out, Sirius. I'm not dealing with your shit today.”

Barty could feel the judgemental stare of a mother on the other side of the counter. If it wasn't for the fact that he was still on the clock he would've flipped her off already.

“You can't kick me out Crouch, Rosmerta loves me.”

“Rosmerta loves using your face to draw up business. Hurry up and get behind the counter before we get told off again.” Barty threw him an apron that Sirius was just barely able to catch.

So, the thing was Sirius didn't actually work here, and technically he wasn't allowed behind the counter, but it's not like Sirius needed the money and Rosmerta wasn't going to keep him from working for free. 

“Are you still pissed off that I'm ditching you to go out with my super tall, super smart, super hot boyfriend tomorrow.” 

Sirius pulled his hair back carelessly before tying it up. Only Sirius Black could present an effortless look with no actual effort.

“Do I need to remind you that I've already had the pleasure of enjoying your super tall, super smart, super hot boyfriend.”

Barty had in fact had a go with Sirius’ boyfriend some couple months back. They hadn't known each other at the time, and Barty was certain that if he hadn’t hooked up with Lupin that night, Sirius and Remus would have never even met. Sirius’ entire relationship existed because of Barty.

“Don't talk about Moony like he's a piece of meat.”

“Oh, so only you can objectify him?”

Sirius nodded as he took off his jacket to hang on a hook and tied his apron. “Boyfriend privileges, but you wouldn't know about that would you Crouch.”

He wouldn't actually, Barty Crouch Jr wasn't known for settling. Not a single one of his relationships lasted longer than three months, at least if you didn’t count Emmeline Vance, who Barty tends to go back to every couple months when she’s single.

Sirius didn't count Emmeline as a relationship.

Barty could only roll his eyes before he started on the next order, cappuccino, no foam. He wanted to kill someone.

And so it went for the next half an hour, Barty rotated from creatively insulting one of his regulars and resisting the urge to pour the frothing milk on some prick's head. 

“Fuck this, I'm taking a break, call me if you don't know what your doing.”

Sirius waved him off before he turned to the cash register with a bright smile, his loose curls falling to frame his face. Barty wasn’t even surprised when the woman began to stumble with her order, Sirius had that effect on everyone.

He was sitting across the counter when a little girl walked in all by herself.

Bright blonde hair held in two crooked pigtails. A set of plastic butterfly wings that were sliding off her shoulder, her face decorated with glitter and star stickers. He was pretty sure that the smudged paint around her eyes was supposed to resemble wings as well. It was the sparkling princess skirt and mismatched shoes with untied laces that really pulled the whole thing together.

She was already heading towards the display case, eyes focused on the pastries that had been delivered earlier that day by the local bakery.

Sirius leaned over the counter when he noticed who Barty was looking at. 

“Hi sweetie, you see something you like.”

The girl looked up at Sirius with a nod before she pointed at one of their last brownies. Barty bit the inside of his cheek, he was really hoping that someone wouldn't take it before his shift was over.

As if to sense his despair Sirius looked over at Barty in question.

Would Barty be generous for the first time in his life and sacrifice the last brownie to the little girl who had her face pressed against the glass, or would he be a selfish prick and break this little girl's dream?

Barty sighed before gesturing for Sirius to give it to her.

He hated kids. He hated seeing their round faces with their big eyes.

Oh, but the smile that broke out the moment Sirius handed it to her in a napkin was heart melting. Barty couldn't help but laugh at the way she began to jump around in joy. Her little wings flapping with each jump she made.

“Luna, there you are. What did I tell you about running off on me?”

The girl turned around proudly presenting the brownie she had just received, “Evie look, brownie!”

Barty hadn't even noticed when the guy walked in, too focused on making sure she didn't slip on her untied shoelaces.

He was tall, and that was saying something because Barty was tall. He might not have been Remus Lupin tall, but he was definitely tall. He also had blonde hair, nearly platinum. Barty was almost in awe of how good it looked on him. He didn't know many people who could pull off platinum.

Silver septum ring with plenty of other piercings on his ears. Each one carrying silver jewelry. Barty couldn't help but think that gold would've suited him better.

“I can see that angel, but I only have enough for one treat right now. You're going to have to choose if you want this or your red rose surprise.”

The girl, Luna, pouted, and Barty wanted to groan. Kids were his weakness.

Sirius looked over at Barty unsure of what to do. Barty only mouthed his response.

“The brownie's on the house.” Sirius gave the customer that charming smile of his as he rested his arms on the counter. This was the real reason Rosmerta kept him around. Always so charming that Sirius Black, no one could resist him. 

“My boss just loves fairies, and she told me that every fairy who visits is supposed to get one treat for free.” 

Luna beamed up at Sirius before turning around to the guy, Evie, and sticking her tongue out before turning back to Sirius.

“I want a red rose surprise.”

“I don't think we have those here.”

Evie let out an exaggerated sigh before he kneeled in front of her. “Imma have to work my magic little moon. Why don't you go pick a seat and enjoy your brownie while I get that red rose surprise.”

Fuck it all to hell, ‘little moon’. Kill him, kill him now. End his existence before he ends up falling in love with a complete and utter stranger.

There was something that needed to be known about Barty.

He found people who were good with kids attractive. And he didn't mean it in a ‘Oh, wow. That's so cute. You're sweet and protective.’ kind of way, but more like, ‘I don't care if it's biologically impossible. I want to have your kids so that I can see you do this for the rest of my life.’ kind of way.

Regulus says he's absolutely mental and this is a result of his daddy issues, while Sirius says that it's perfectly reasonable because it's exactly how he feels about his own boyfriend.

Seeing this super hot guy talk to this little girl like she was the only good thing in the world made his heart race a little. A strangely weird feeling because even though he's felt this way before, it's never gotten this intense.

His friends find the dichotomy between what he's like and what he finds attractive absolutely hilarious, because Barty liked pretty people. He liked sweet looking people who take control of a situation with a smile on their face. A big contrast to Barty who was covered in tattoos, used cheap black box dye, and had a shitty ass personality, or so he was told.

His last boyfriend would disagree, but Sirius refuses to listen to anything James Potter had to say in regards to Barty. Skewed perception was his reasoning. 

“Cute kid, is she your's?” Sirius stood back up and eyed Evie as he stood up, blue eyes following Luna as she sat down at one of the booths.

“My sister's, actually. I’m babysitting today.” 

“Oh, and what, no girlfriend to help you out.”

The guys smiled at Sirius and Barty wanted to roll his eyes. 

Although in a fully committed relationship, Sirius Black was incapable of not flirting with their customers. He's probably the reason why Barty has to deal with so many annoying customers. Charmed by Sirius and insulted by Barty, only at the Three Brews.

“No one at the moment, but Luna’s a good help in getting people interested. Someone's bound to find me worth sticking around for.” He smiled at Sirius and although Barty couldn't see just how lethal it was he could definitely see its effects by just how red Sirius was getting.

It wasn't by much, but no one's been able to get such a reaction from him since he's gotten with Lupin. It wasn't often when Sirius Black could be brought to blush, and if someone ever did manage it, it was a sure fire way to get Barty interested.

Sirius looked over at Barty and Barty took it as his cue to go save his friend from possibly ruining his newly established relationship.

The transition was quick and simple. Barty pulled Sirius back and told him to check on that order Rosmerta had placed for sandwiches for the incoming lunch rush. Sirius barely had time to wish him luck before he was pushed to the back where the phone was.

“Good morning, I'll be serving you since my coworker doesn't know how to keep from drooling when he sees a pretty face.”

And fuck did he have a pretty face. Barty was going to need more than luck to get through this.

“Well, I'm not complaining. One pretty face replaced by another, nothing to be disappointed about.”

Red alert, red alert! This is not a drill! Why the hell is this guy flirting with him?

“Um– what would you like to order? We have plenty of Valentine's Day specials if you're feeling festive, but we do have regular coffee if you aren't looking for anything fancy.”

Barty looked over at the little girl who was carelessly kicking her feet as she broke off a piece of the brownie. He was kinda regretting giving it to her now. He could really use some chocolate to ease the nerves that were eating at him. 

“Do your Valentine's specials have strawberries?”

No, no, don't do this to him. He really didn't want to make anything too difficult. He already had to make three of those today and tomorrow that all he would be doing.

“Some do.”

“Okay, then, do you mind just putting regular milk in a cup, adding some diced strawberries and whipped cream with strawberry syrup on top. It's my niece's birthday today and I always get her one of these, but the last place we went to ran out of strawberries.”

“So, the red rose surprise is just strawberry milk.”

He shrugged a little, “It's what my parents used to do for my sister and I on our birthday. I guess I'm just following the tradition.”

Oh, he was so fucking screwed.

“Yeah, I can make it work, Evie.”

He laughed and Barty could only stare at him as he covered his face in embarrassment. 

“It's Evan actually.”

“Barty.”

“Well, thank you Barty, you just saved my day and made her birthday ten times better. How much would it be?”

And Barty knew the moment he made eye contact, he was done for.

“It's on the house, a gift for the birthday girl, and you if– if you want something?”

“No, I'm good for now, but thanks.”

Evan smiled and Barty swallowed nervously.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

“Yeah, no problem. I'll have your drink ready to go in a moment.”

Evan nodded his head before he turned around and sat next to Luna who was now staring at him with wide eyes and head tilted to the side. As soon as Evan sat down she turned to him and pointed at Barty before gesturing at her cheeks. 

Evan laughed for a moment before looking over in Barty's direction. They made eye contact, Evan winked at him and Barty quickly turned around to get that drink ready.

Strawberry milk, strawberry milk, strawberry milk.

How the hell was he supposed to make strawberry milk?

“Hey Barty, are you okay? Your face is all red.” 

Barty jumped at Sirius' words

“Relax, it's just me.”

“You know how to make strawberry milk right? I mean the pretty kind that you see all over Instagram and shit.”

“Yeah, I used to make it for Reggie. Why?”

“Teach me.”

“What?”

“Teach me how to make your stupid strawberry milk.”

“I can just make you some.”

“No, you have to teach me so I can give it to that little girl and then when Evan sees how good I'm at making strawberry milk he'll have no other choice but to marry me so I can keep making strawberry milk.”

Sirius blinked at him before laughing. 

“Evan? Is he the reason why your face is all red like that?”

Barty wanted to strangle Sirius or drop to the floor and die, preferably both, but not necessarily in that order.

“Fine, I'll teach you how to make it, but first go wash your face. You're as red as a strawberry right now.”

Barty could only hang his head in embarrassment when he saw his reflection on the mirror. Bright red, strawberry red.

Stupid red rose surprise. 

Stupid strawberry milk 

Stupid Barty for falling for some guy named Evan.

tags: @the-person-that-did-that @saiichai

[nullmaidens]

WIP: drink your fill

18+ || ezekyle abaddon x reader || step-mother/son fauxcest. pre-heresy, set-up to adultery, guilty masturbation (kinda), pregnancy as body horror.

THIS IS A WIP!! the final product will have explicit content and abaddon with lactophilia. please bear this in mind!!

he’s a boob guy who wants to be his mother’s favourite just as much as he wants to be his father’s, and i can see him getting rather jealous of a new arrival that takes up too much of her time for his liking.

Hell exists, and the Imperial Truth should be damned to it. Hell exists, and Ezekyle knows, because he’s been enduring it for months.

It comes to the Vengeful Spirit after a long gestation, growing in a dark, dank place, left alone too long to get rid of. It buries its way inside, making itself a home out of nothing, siphoning their hard-won supplies without permission and, to add insult to injury, without reproach. They’d reinforced the ship against it — a new door here, an insulated wall there, increasingly strict safety protocols, and locks. More locks than he had ever seen, one on every compartment, every cupboard, even in the most distant recesses of the menial decks, as if the Warmaster was expecting a break-in.

What he was really readying them for, however, was the breakout.

The Legion Mother had screamed for hours, and he thought could hear it clearly despite your being in the infirmary and himself being locked away in the training cages. It was haunting, and Ezekyle wanted nothing to do with it. He could almost feel the heavy thuds of the Warmaster’s footsteps pacing up and down the corridor outside the room you’d been placed in, nearly hear Tarik’s lighthearted voice try to comfort him, or Luc’s stern assertions try to ease his mind. She’ll be fine, he’d say, she is strong. It’s why you chose her, and it’s why we love her.

The cages were empty when he arrived, everyone else preoccupied, duties cut short and shifts left unfinished when the news had broken that you had finally gone under the knife. His knuckles are bloody from being beaten against battle servitors, six— no, seven— of them in pieces at his feet. Huge, hulking, once-human things torn apart, split at the seams, their bodies broken almost beyond repair, and while he knew the Martians would fix them, they’d never quite operate the same. That thought stung. Your body, too, had changed, under occupation. You became gaunt, stretched out, both thin and bulging, the mortal human body utterly weak and incapable of handling the burden of such a parasite.

You’d wasted away in front of them and they had done nothing. The nausea that left you starving almost to the point of emaciation was blamed on warp sickness, initially, but the Luna Wolves weren’t stupid enough to be so easily deceived. The preternatural beauty and fullness that came in the weeks that followed was merely a reflection in him of the Warmaster’s love for you, one that disguised the way your skin warped around the growth. To his great shame, Ezekyle took himself in hand for the first time in decades when you looked like that. You even smelled different, lingering in the air around him for hours after you’d retired to his father’s chambers, the sickly sweet scent of you clinging to him even beneath a blisteringly hot shower. The water scalded his back as he’d stood hunched over, braced against the tiled wall in front of him, and he cursed when he thought of how much more lustrous your hair had become, and how your clothes had started to stretch across your belly, and how the already perfect swell of your chest was—

He made himself spend another fifteen minutes scrubbing his guilt from where it dripped down the grouting.

When the more slender parts of your body grew gaunt again, when you were tired, and slow, and it seemed that he alone could see it in your eyes that you were putting on a brave face for them, Ezekyle had gone to your bedside and asked you why you had wasted so much time in waiting to take it out.

“I don’t know,” was your answer, and you had squeezed his hand. He saw red just thinking about the way the oximeter dug into your finger, the plastic cold against his skin, and the dullness in your eyes, once so full of life. He punched the servitor in front of him hard, its inner and outer machinations stuttering at the impact before whirring back to life. “It will happen when it happens. The chirurgeons and the apothecaries know what they are doing.” You’d brought his hand up to your lips, then. They were cracked and dry, devoid of their usual softness, but they had still been so gentle against his knuckle when you tried to comfort him.

When an illness takes root, it ought to be cured. When a tumour grows, removed. The surgery should fix you. It would make you better, and happier, and things would be just as they were before. Now again, harder, that same fist pummelled into its gut until he felt bone break, lubricants spilling onto the mat, each strike a wish that the ache would dull and fade into the oblivion from whence it came. This was a momentous occasion, one he’d regret missing, but the thought of smelling the stench of your blood from the other side of a closed door was nauseating. He should be there, with his brothers. With his father who he knows needs him now possibly more than ever, to share in his strife and his delight.

And yet, after a painstakingly long half-cycle spent drenched in sweat, Ezekyle punches straight through the servitor’s skull and bellows in frustration when roars of joy fill every deck of the ship. Lady Lupercal is alive. The Warmaster has another son.

“Must he parade it around?” he asked under his breath as the Mournival stood by, watching from a stage as the Primarch showed the swaddled cloth in his arms to each company, one at a time. It was a miracle it hadn’t started that insufferable wailing again at the sound of ceramite sabatons thumping against plasteel flooring, each and every Luna Wolf in his immaculately cleaned armour, and only Horus going without. He was determined to maintain skin to skin contact with the thing they’d torn from the Legion Mother, as if that would make all the difference, and have it recognise him as its father all the quicker. Ezekyle bristled at the thought, though it wasn’t a new one. In the days since the arrival, the Warmaster had doted on it, and something dark and strange and sad had coiled up in his heart whenever he saw the way he held it close to his chest.

The Legion Mother had barely been able to walk when the men were called up to the debarkation deck, and he’d played the role of the dutiful, anxious son in the absence of any other volunteers. You clung to his arm, shivering from the effort of standing, but you smiled anyway. It was pained, and it was like only he could tell. “He is your father’s pride,” you whispered back, your eyes fixed not on your husband, but on the bundle in his care. “He thinks it’ll be good for all of you to know him, and I agree. He’s just another brother to care for, Ezekyle. Smaller, perhaps, than what you’re used to,” a weak laugh rattled through you, and he could almost feel the way your fingers tightened around the thick plate of his gauntlet, “but a brother all the same.”

thank u for making it this far <3 hopefully i ACTUALLY FINISH THIS

divider by @strangergraphics !!

[moonwqves]

⋮ 𝐬𝐨 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐡, 𝐬𝐨 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧

───〃★ bruce wayne (batman) x reader.

★ — SUMMARY | shower sex after a night on patrol. ★ — WORD COUNT | 1.2k ★ — WARNINGS | fem!reader ; pwp ; unprotected sex ; mentions of blood/injuries

18+ ONLY MINORS DNI.

most nights when bruce gets back to the manor, you’re still asleep. in the early hours of the morning, just before the sky begins to lighten, he doesn’t expect you to still be awake as he sheds all his gear and trudges his way upstairs.

but some nights you wait up for him, occupying yourself with a book or a new tv series as you sit curled up in your chair in the dark.

he assumes you’re still in bed sleeping soundly and he heads quietly into the bathroom to start cleaning himself up, not noticing that you’re silently watching. he’s known for being stealthy, but tonight you’re the one who’s slipping into the shadows.

his clothes hit the floor piece by piece as he turns the water on and strips bare, the steam from the shower quickly filling the room with heat and fogging up the mirror.

the hot water stings the bloody cuts on his knuckles, and he hisses as he runs his hands beneath the shower stream, watching the blood wash down the drain. they’re just minor scrapes and it’s nothing he isn’t used to by now, but it’s always a chore to take care of himself at the end of the night.

you open the bathroom door just a crack and peek your head inside to call his name, and instantly his head whips around at the noise. droplets of water collect in his eyelashes as he stares at you, his piercing gaze locked with yours as tears of black eyeliner roll down his cheeks, the warm water melting away his dark exterior. he's tired, he's aching and bruised from this routine of difficult nights, but everything disappears the second he sees you.

you pause as he wipes his hand across his eyes, smearing the fading makeup even further before he jerks his head to beckon you to join him, and you quickly start to undress. your clothes slip off, collecting in a pile on the floor next to his as you slide back the glass door and step inside.

your heart races as his eyes silently roam over your figure, streams of water trickling down his toned chest, and you can’t help but study him in return. you reach out to trace your fingers over the old scars that litter his skin, and you note the fresh scratches and cuts he’s earned himself while out in the city tonight.

you start to pull away to grab the soap, but his hand wraps around your wrist and you freeze, looking up at him. you can see the flash of lust in his eyes as he grips you tightly, pulling you closer until you’re standing flush against his body, and the proximity sends a shiver of desire down your spine.

he leans forward to capture your lips, his deep voice groaning out your name as his arms sliding down to sit firmly around your waist. you melt into him, automatically moaning into the kiss, and he greedily swallows your noises until it feels like he’s going to suck the breath right out of your lungs.

he kisses you harder, one hand falling to your hip while the other reaches up to cup your jaw and guide your mouth further into him, his tongue prodding between your lips in a way that makes you feel warm from the inside out.

his hand on your hip travels lower to grope your ass, and he squeezes a little harder when you let out a gasp against his lips, relishing in the responses he’s drawing from you. he starts to move and suddenly you feel the ice cold tile of the shower wall against your back, and you arch away from it instinctively, seeking the warmth of his body.

a large hand grips your thigh and hikes your leg up around his waist, securing your ankle behind the back of his thigh for balance. his pelvis presses between your legs, and you can already feel his cock hardening against your skin.

“bruce,” you whine as you try to rock your hips against him, desperate for the friction he provides.

he doesn’t reply but he lets out a soft noise under his breath, somewhere between a hum and a growl, and he attaches his lips to your neck just below your ear.

he pushes himself into you and you gasp, your heat enveloping his length as you cling to him. your legs tremble as he begins to thrust slowly, your arms wrapping around his neck even tighter. you can feel his biceps flexing around you as he holds you against the wall, supporting nearly all of your weight as he starts to build up his pace. drops of water trickle down your neck and between the valley of your breasts, but it’s hard to tell if it’s from the shower or if it’s sweat.

even after a night of patrol and the physical toll it takes on him, bruce’s stamina far outweighs yours. it only takes minutes before he has you whimpering and clenching around him, struggling to keep up with his relentless pace.

he pulls back to adjust his hips, giving him a better angle to drive his cock into you so that his tip kisses your spot with each stroke. he can tell you’re about to cum when he feels you starting to pull away from him, all the tension in your body building up like a dam about to break as your back arches and you squirm in his grasp.

with one more pointed thrust you come undone, a constant stream of whines pouring from your lips like the shower water pouring down his back. he doesn’t let up until your body goes limp in his arms, fucking you through your orgasm while you can barely keep yourself standing up straight.

suddenly he swoops in and presses his lips to your mouth once again, his perfect pace slipping and becoming more and more erratic, and you know he’s close behind. with your leg behind him you pull him closer, giving him just enough extra leverage to bury himself inside you as deep as he can go before his release slams into him.

his grip on your hips is almost bruising as he keeps you held tightly against him, letting out low, deep groans as he spills into you. warmth floods your stomach and you exhale a shaky whimper as you start to come down from the dizzying effects of your high.

just before you feel your leg starting to cramp up he pulls back, slipping out of you but keeping his arms still firmly around you to keep you supported. he tilts his head down to study you, secretly preening at the fucked-out look on your face. he looks much worse off, his cuts and scrapes still forming scabs and the black makeup streaked across his cheeks, but he’s still more concerned about you than himself.

he gives you a moment to stand on your own, and he smirks when you immediately reach again for the soap and start to scrub at his body with a loofah.

he lets you pamper him for now, because he knows neither of you will be getting any sleep until dawn.

© moonwqves 2024. do not repost or translate. ── ⊹ ˙ . 𖥻 want to join my taglist? send an ask!

if you enjoyed reading, please reblog or let me know in a comment or an ask! feedback helps so much with motivation and gives me energy to continue writing :)

a/n: this is my first time posting outside of my main fandom, but it was a lot of fun to write && i am really excited to continue writing new things!! i hope you enjoy, please interact (reblog, comment, ask) if you liked it!

[ckret2]

I had just finished the first chapter of the Axolotl arc in WAIGLZ and reading the second.

Is he technically being a ghost ever going to come up past this arc to the other chapters in WAIGLZ later on?

Like,

"It was not like y o u were the one who viciously murdered me! I am mean technically your gruncles did not even kill a "living" being in the first place, according to s o m e people,

Bill shook his head, fanning away trillion year old resentment

-"you really think it was my first roadio? P l e a s e . So, try not beat yourself up about it kid, ok?"

Mabel looked up and stared at Bill.

"Wha- Huh??" Mabel said dumbfounded.

It would be crazy coolio to see it mentioned in the main fic.

Until I read your fic I never even thought about Bill being a spirit once, and now I feel rather silly wondering how he lived so long outside of his dimension :,)

Please have a truly wonderful day + happy holidays! ^ ^

Toodaloo!

I'm sure eventually it'll be mentioned again (I mean, for one thing, eventually we're gonna see the massacre) but probably not like that.

Like, Bill technically-being-a-ghost isn't some big secret or a major plot twist, and it doesn't fundamentally rewrite the rules around him and what he does. It's just what we see him do throughout canon.

He's a non-physical entity ("a being of pure energy!") that's apparently self-sustaining without needing sleep or food and impervious to injury and illness ("with no weakness!")

He's usually invisible to normal (living) people. He can possess people. He can move inanimate objects even though he can't physically interact with them. He can haunt dreams.

When he has the opportunity to make himself a body, he doesn't turn into something physical; his physical form is separate from him, and he can freely separate from it any time he wants.

This is mind-body dualism. Generally, mind-body dualism is a framework people use to express the idea that the spirit/soul is a separate entity from the body. The thing that's killed in Stan's mind is the spirit; the statue left behind is the body.

Meaning, before he had that body, he was spirit.

When he separates Dipper's spirit from his body in the exact same way Bill separates from his own body, he says, "Without a vessel to possess, you're basically a ghost!"

Bill usually doesn't have a vessel to possess.

Ergo: Bill's basically a ghost and he said so himself.

I haven't listed anything we didn't learn from Sock Opera and Weirdmageddon.

The ONLY question is "well BEFORE he was an energy being, did he have a physical body?" Whether he was born an energy being or became one later is in the realm of headcanon; and I suppose it's a matter of opinion if an energy being counts as a ghost if it's 100% identical to ghosts in every way except that it didn't previously have a physical body. You could argue that his eagerness to get a physical body the second he could implies he used to have one or was meant to have one, but that's speculation.

In every other way, he meets the criteria for a ghost the same way that tomatoes meet the criteria for berries. But when someone tells you "tomatoes are berries," it doesn't teach you anything new about tomatoes. You already knew tomatoes have berry-like traits, you just assumed they were disqualified because they're too big or too unsweet or too vegetably, and now you know they aren't disqualified.

So like—putting that word on him doesn't change anything about Bill. You've learned nothing new. The characters around him would learn nothing new. It's not a plot twist or massive character revelation; it's just a background fact that gets mentioned when it's relevant.

[chochuuya]

soft and random headcanons with toman!

⤹ mikey is the type of guy to be more vulnerable and get clingy with you when he's sick. he would also wouldn't mind if you do your skincare with and on him.

⤹ draken is the type of guy that would put your head on his shoulder when he notices that you're sleeping. he would act annoyed and even call you an idiot, but there is no denying that there is a sheepish smile on his face ><

⤹ chifuyu is the type of guy that would listen to all the drama that you have.. and might be even more angry that you are hehe.

⤹ baji is the type of guy that would try so hard to make dinner for the both of you.. but then he would burn the food and walks with his head down, sobbing.

⤹ mitsuya is the type of guy that has social media but his presence is almost nonexistent. why? because he only uses it to post you or his crafts on it and to message the gang.

⤹ kazutora is the type of guy who would write you love letters and buy you chocolates or flowers for no reason (he's too shy to say).

⤹ smiley is the type of guy that would say "oh me? thanks." or "i know i am." confidently when you compliment something cute.

⤹ angry is the type of guy that would wuss out 5 times before he decides to confess to you properly. you're his weakness!

⤹ takemichi is the type of guy that would send 10+ notifications to you, trying to get his words across because he keeps making typos and spelling mistakes.

[ozarkthedog]

Mob boss!Tommy Miller 🫠

[husbandjoel]

daddy daycare | tommy miller

3 times tommy miller put himself out there +1 time it got him a date.

pairing: au single!dad tommy miller x daycare assistant fem!reader - reader is referred to as sugar.

trigger warning: bad language, bad flirting, reader is a massive flirt!!, reader has glasses, kissing, family loss, grieving and death. sexual themes but no smut, tommy is an ass man through and through, a bit of a spit kink briefly mentioned - word for word the scene in sinners ifykyk

word count: 5.1k

a/n: this is not proofread thoroughly!! love u maria but i had to kill u off for the plot. mwah u can come back as soon as i post this. this is still set in jackson post!outbreak. i personally froth at the mouth at the idea of single dad, tommy miller trying to get back out there after the love of his life passed away

gif credit: @optional

Grief was immeasurable. There was no limitations to the pain felt in your bones when you presumed you had defeated the steep hill to overcoming the emotions of losing someone close in your life. It lurked in corners, in the distance and crept up on you unexpectedly, disorientating your composure for awhile to mourn the emptiness and refusal to acknowledge that the sound of the person's voice would slowly be forgotten the less you heard it.

Grief found Tommy Miller under dirty diapers, burp cloths and spit up on every single shoulder of his button downs.

Maria Miller had passed away unexpectedly two months after giving birth to their son, Benjamin Miller. Leaving no time for Tommy Miller to process her death as he was fully fledged to navigating through newfound fatherhood — Benjamin counted on him.

        Sometimes, he'd find himself sucking in a sharp breath when Benjamin opened his eyes after sleeping peacefully in Tommy's arms. Maria Miller staring right back at him; making his shoulders shake, cheeks wet from tears as he allowed Benjamin to grab onto his finger with his minuscule hand.

        His face crazed, as he bounced his screaming baby, speaking to his brother over the wails, "You think I should cut a hole in my top an' stick the bottle through? So, he thinks it's a breast?"

        Joel Miller shook his head, large hands offering to take the baby who quietened down as he hushed him against his chest.

        "He can feel your anxiety, Tommy." Joel informed, "It's OK to feel that, jus' don't think he needs fed every time he cries. I found that out real quick with Sarah."

        Tommy felt like a failure. He had boasted about his helping hand when Sarah Miller was a babe. Assuring Maria, whilst her belly swelled through the seasons, that he had parenting locked in and he had every confidence that he would know exactly what to do in every situation.

        He was the opposite of what he had said.

        He had no idea what he was doing.

        With time, and a few silent meltdowns at three in the morning as Benjamin Miller cried, Tommy started to get the hang of being a single parent. With each month, came a new hurdle, one he had to adapt to quickly with the help of his older brother Joel with some experience with children under his belt.

Before he could settle into the so-called 'newborn bubble' everyone had spoken about, Tommy blinked and Benjamin Miller was a walking, comprehensible — to a certain degree — two and a half year old. A carefree boy, who knew only the bounds of the Jackson Commune and smiled like his mother when he felt the pure innocence of joy.

They were a team. And Tommy adored him. Despite the extra grey hairs that had sprouted in his wake.

Taking the time to mingle back into the community, Tommy had found the itch to get back on Patrol. Joel and him had, had an in depth debate about the gravity of Tommy leaving his two year old toddler behind the safety of the walls in search of trouble. Softened over the years, Joel had a surprising approach of disagreement to Tommy's stance. Suggesting it'd be best to withhold from a risky job and stick to the mundane jobs to save Benjamin from becoming an orphan.

Without question, Tommy Miller — naturally — went against his brother's advice and he was ordered Patrol duty the week after their talk.

        "Don't come cryin' to me in the afterlife when Maria smacks you round the head." Joel had said with crossed arms and a gruffer tone than his usual.

        "Yeah, yeah." Tommy waved his comment off, "Don't you worry, your little head. Benjamin is signed up for the daycare on Main Street when I'm on the job."

The Crayon Commanders, it was called. A little cheesed out in the name, but it was the only Daycare in town despite the growing population of children being introduced back into the civilisation the Jackson Commune had built.

Tommy had no doubt in the capability of Ms. Maeve, the teacher in charge and her capable team of assistants.

        The first introduction was albeit brief but changed the trajectory of Tommy Miller’s lone wolf mentality.

He found himself frantically banging on the door for the Crayon Commanders glass panelled door — one he had actually fitted alongside Joel — the bitter air catching his breath, his gloved hand pulling at Benjamin's as the kid tried to run off to a nearby puddle.

        "C'mon, c'mon." He mumbled, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Quick to peer round the side to check for any teacher in the playground, Tommy kissed his teeth when he returned to the front door. His prayers being answered as he squinted to see a body approaching.

        He saw your eyes first. Behind large framed glasses, wide from worry, you unlocked the door, pushing it open; your pretty lips parted enough to catch a glimpse of your teeth as you stared between Tommy and his son.

Holy shit. You were an angel.

        "Mr. Miller?" How the hell you knew his name and he didn't even recognise your face was a topic for another time. Your voice laced with worry as you pulled at the cardigan that had slipped down your bare shoulder, skin nipped by the Wyoming winter.

        "'M sorry, ma'am. I really hate to ask this of y'all, but you see, I've been unexpectedly called on duty for this mornin's patrol." Tommy gestured to the walls of their Commune, "I'd ask my brother to take Benji here but—"

You waved a hand to stop him.

"You wanna split the waffles with me for breakfast, Benji?"

"Sip." The toddler states. "Sip, Sugar."

"Yep. I got syrup." You hummed and took Benjamin in by his shoulders. You met Tommy's glazed eyes as Benjamin did a celebratory bounce. "I'll take good care of him."

"Thank you, baby. Thank you from the bottom of my heart." Tommy patted his chest.

When Tommy returned to collect Benjamin, Joel had mentioned he wanted to see his nephew and tagged along. The towns babies bottle-necked as they poured out the front door, flat footed as they raced to the open embrace of their caregivers.

The two brothers craned their necks to find Benjamin. The daycare wasn't exactly teeming with hundreds of kids as of yet, people had been too fearful and headstrong to bring a kid to raise up in a world where the Outbreak had taken the simplicity of their uncomplicated lives before. Jackson Hole, Wyoming was slowly changing that. So, when Benjamin didn't rush out, in true brotherly fashion: their brows furrowed in unison.

Hand tugged, you exited the Daycare with Benjamin Miller pulling at your arm, incoherent but you presumed 'Joel-Joel' was the brooding salt and pepper haired male standing shoulder to shoulder with Benjamin's father. Jackson Commune was relatively small, but you hadn't acquainted everybody in the town.

Little hand slipping from your grasp, he took off into his father's arms, before reaching one arm over and pulling at his uncle's neck to bring him in for the family hug.

It warmed your heart.

Hands clasped, you respected Benjamin's wishes to introduce yourself to his uncle, regardless of the intimate moment between family members that you were encroaching on by watching so closely. As they pulled back — Joel tickling his nephew's armpit — all eyes went to you.

Without missing a beat, you leant forward, hand extended, "You must be the infamous Joel-Joel." You stepped back once Joel shook your hand, "Benjamin dotes on you. The both of you, actually."

"I am his favourite uncle." Joel affirmed.

Tommy drawled, "You're his only uncle." He looked toward you, eyes crinkling as you picked up on the humour, "Thank you again for takin' him in so early. I know y'all are busy here at the Daycare with all these terrors runnin' round your ankles."

"It's nothing, really." You waved him off, "Benjamin is my favourite — we keep that to ourselves, though."

The blood pumped through Tommy's chest as he blinked at you leaning forward to give his son a low-five in which he aced with accuracy. He swallowed hard enough, he thought he might've swallowed his tongue. Eyes drifting to Joel, he noticed his brother side-eyeing him from his peripheral, not missing the slight quirk at the corner of Joel's lips.

He hated his brother sometimes.

Adjusting Benjamin on his hip, a grunt escaping his lips in the process, Tommy spoke freely, "Well. I jus' think you might be our favourite too."

There was a glint in your eye when he said that.

Chin tucked into your shoulder, you verbalised your gratitude, "You flatter me, Mr. Miller."

"Tommy—Please."

Joel felt sick watching.

"Tommy." His name sounded so sweet on your tongue. He had to snap out of it. You continued, "Well, I'll be heading in. It was nice to meet you Mr. Miller—" You were referring to Joel who grunted in return, "Show your dad the drawing you did when you get home, Benji!"

You waved them off, turning on your heel, not missing the toddler that ran full force into your leg to give you a hug before running off again. Tommy watched your figure sway, eyes caught drifting south.

Joel was quick to clear his throat.

Tommy began to walk with Benjamin still in his arms, "What?" He asked when his brother shook his head in dismay.

"You're a dog, Tommy Miller."

        The second occasion that Tommy Miller bumped into you, the Daycare Assistant, was on his way for a briefing before the morning patrol. OK, it wasn't by coincidence that he happened to be in the right place at the right time for you both to cross paths again. Tommy partially knew of the schedule you ran on, fleeting glances of you entering the Crayon Commanders building prior to open at the exact same time every morning.

        Your last encounter had left him craving just a little bit more. Fearful it may come into a full Sugar-addiction, Tommy hesitated time and time again when his morning patrol aligned with your routine mornings. Often pacing in the snow before trudging away feeling rather sheepish as he muttered self-depreciation under his breath.

The thought of dating again after Maria Miller, the love of his life, had been such a far off concept that hadn't crossed his mind. She was his soulmate, bonded for life with the evidence of their devotion to each other in the form of Benjamin Miller.

        But, what he was doing wasn't exclusively dating. Right?

        He was familiarising himself with Benjamin's Daycare Assistant that he hadn't met prior to his drop-offs and pick-ups. 

        And, there he was, snow kicked beneath his boots as he slowed down past the one colourful building in all of Main Street. A one story building, but it stuck out like a sore thumb with its vast array of colours.

        He saw you first.

        Boxes stacked so high that you had to peer round the side to mind your step, you struggled to keep them balanced as you walked across the street. Blatant that you had overestimated your skills in balancing and co-ordinating steps in the snow, you swore at yourself, a few paintbrushes and glue sticks for their Arts and Crafts day, falling from the opened box at the top.

        Being the man who couldn't rest until his — as Joel had mocked — Help-O-Meter was fulfilled, Tommy rushed over, gloved hands dipped in the snow to pick up the runaway items. Plus, it gave him the conviction to finally speak to you.

"Oh!" You twisted your head to see Tommy Miller picking up the pieces, "Gosh, you don't have to do that. I would've just come back out."

Tommy shook his head, "Now that just wouldn't be so gentleman of me."

You smiled, "Well, consider you the upmost gentleman I've met. Thank you, Mr. Miller."

"I thought we weren't on formalities—I got them, baby." Tommy feigned hurt in his Southern drawl, as he took the boxes from you.

"Slip of the tongue. I mean, my name isn't even Sugar — the kids just call me that." You explained as you fumbled in your pocket for the keys to the door, mumbling an apology for making Tommy wait with the boxes, "I'm the one that gives them treats at Snack Time. Suppose it's easier for two year olds to say that than my name." You spoke your name out and Tommy raised his brows.

A pretty name for a pretty woman.

        "Well, I'd like to think they call you Sugar for more reasons than the sweet treats you give 'em." The door unlocked and he gestured for you to go in out of the cold first. Eyes drifting downward as you walked by him.

        "It's definitely the sweet treats." You insisted. The back of your neck felt hot at the obvious compliment Tommy Miller threw your way. You thrived on praise.

        You turned back to face him, a knowing smirk gracing your lips as you caught the end part of Tommy's eyes flitting upward to your face. Hands out, you took one box off of the stack, placing it down on your desk, the motion signalling Tommy to do the same with the three others.

"Thank you, again." You jutted a hip out as you huffed a breath, hands on your waist.

"Anytime." Tommy pulled the edges of his gloves to readjust them back onto his fingers, "I'll be takin' leave. Got Patrol this mornin'."

"Oh, then all the more reason for you to have just walked on by. I apologise if I've made you late!" You weren’t really, you were glad — but you had to remain somewhat professional.

"Nonsense. I was gonna make myself late anyway, wanted to speak to you n' all." He was an honest man, with honest intentions. Tommy clicked his tongue, "Well—Have a good day with them terrors."

You followed him to the front door, "I'll see you around, Tommy."

"I'll make sure of it."

The third time was out of office hours.

After Tommy bid farewell after your brief meeting at the dawn of the day, he spent the rest of the day internally crucifying himself the longer he thought about his actions. He still wore his wedding band from the day that he and Maria swore themselves to each other. The gold caught his eye in the bright winter sun, taking it as a sign from Maria that he needed to reel himself back in.

He deserved to be happy. Tommy wouldn't deny himself the emotion. But, he was sure he could find pockets of happiness in other aspects of his life, rather than chatting up Benjamin's gorgeous Daycare Assistant.

        Hypothetically, he was still a married man.

        From then on, Tommy avoided you like the plague, or rather, the Cordyceps virus. Before he could get roped in, if he saw you, he'd simply turn in the other direction. And, during Drop-Off and Pick-Ups, there was no such thing as dillydallying in the hopes he could see you; maybe catch your perfumed skin that had sent him reeling.

        Tommy Miller was dedicated to his son. And, in turn, that meant to his deceased wife. The last thing he wanted to do, was disappoint her with his sloppy actions toward another woman.

After some monotonous construction work, Tommy and Joel hit the Tipsy Bison, — Benjamin in Jesse's company for a few hours — their backs ached as they sat on the barstools, waving Seth down for a dram to aid the dull ache. Neither brothers were as agile as they once were.

Sarah Miller would've reminded them of that.

A couple of whiskies in, Joel had retired for the night, mentioning that he was going to try make amends with Ellie Williams on the way back.

The drams not touching the sides for Tommy, he ordered up another, nodding at Seth as he took a large sip; kissing his teeth as it burned his throat on the way down. He sat, clinking the half empty glass, his mind elsewhere.

"Mr Miller." It came out so silky from your lips. It got Tommy's ears perking at the tone, his posture straightening as he turned his head to see you smiling back at him. Fuck. "Can I sit?"

For a mere moment, he thought you meant his lap. You looked at the empty barstool that Joel once occupied and Tommy swallowed, nodding with his hand out to help you up. Your expression gleeful as you took your hand away from his calloused one, body turned to the bar as you watched Seth stalk back and forth, tending to all customers.

It may have been the whiskey hitting him all at once, but Tommy's self-control fell short when he held his gaze on your side-profile. Brown eyes drifting down every feature he could see from the side, his eyes dropping lower to your figure that was perched upon the cushioned stool. Your bra strap had fallen down your shoulder, and he couldn't help himself licking his lips as he watched your thumb and forefinger drag the red strap back up, a soft 'snap' against your supple skin close to your décolletage.

Your soft looking lips pressed against the glass that Seth had given your ordered beverage in, a trickle of condensation dripping down your chin, sliding down the length of your neck before you took a napkin and dabbed it away.

If Tommy could've bit down on his knuckles he would've.

So, he settled for taking his hand and rubbing it against the stubble of his face.

"Busy with work?" You asked after a few minutes of silence. You didn't seem hurt by his avoidance, then again, his only intentions that you had seen were some shameless flirting.

"You could say that." Tommy shrugged. Man, he needed another drink. "How 'bout you, baby?" He waved Seth down.

You hummed into her drink, "No rest for the wicked." You paused, "I love my job, though."

        Tommy chuckled, "I can tell. Don't you worry."

You two continued to talk for two drinks on your behalf, Tommy quick to flash his vouchers to Seth to pay. You were sweet on him, tactile when conversing, your eyes feigned innocence to your act as you pulled at the cherry stem from your drink, with your mouth.

Having to bite the inside of his cheek, Tommy narrowed his eyes at you, talking with his expression for you to behave with your flirtations.

Once finished and a little more tipsy but nothing you couldn't handle, you called it quits with the drink; Tommy quick to offer to walk you home since it was dark. The Jackson Commune wasn't distrustful, but that didn't stop Tommy from maintaining obvious protection.

Arm linked in Tommy's, you walked the empty streets in silence. You were staring up at the bright stars, your face showing peaceful content in that moment as you swayed lightly from the buzz from the alcohol in your system. Hands in his denim jacket pockets, Tommy scuffed the stones from beneath his feet, blowing hot air out of his mouth to watch the cold snatch it into a little fog cloud.

        He fell into it so easily with you and that doomed feeling crept up the back of his neck — quick to push it down until alone.

        "Say," He started in ordinance to distract himself, "D'ya think you could ask Ms. Maeve to write down a summary of anythin' Benji had been shown and learnt when I'm off on a longer Patrol? With him sometimes stayin' with Joel, that old man can't remember half the things Benji shows him. . . I wanna be as involved as I can be with his learnin'."

        "Oh, sure. I could even tell you, verbatim. As the assistant in the toddler room, I have to know the daily schedule for the kids." You halted at a home, presumably yours, the porch dimly lit. "Please, just ask at any time."

        Tommy felt like he could fall in love with you. That sick feeling in his stomach that he was told were damn 'butterflies' but he chose to call them moths, as it felt like they were eating away at his stomach. His lungs expanding to take in a deep breath, something so simple about your passion for the kids made it harder for him to stick to his word about finding pockets of happiness in other aspects of life rather than love.

        Because, he had already found it. He'd be greedy to ask for it again.

        Ignoring the pit forming in his stomach, Tommy shifted on his feet as you continued to gloat about the toddlers in Crayon Commanders.

        "You free this Sunday?" He asked.

        You nodded, "Sure. That's the best time as I'll have the fresh schedule for that week."

        "No, baby." Tommy let out a hearty laugh, "I meant for the New Years' Dance."

        Your face lit up.

        "You're saving a dance for me, Mr. Miller?"

        "I will if you stop that formalities." Tommy pointed a finger at you sternly, feeling his cheeks hot.

        You showed a smile, acting coy as you swatted a hand at him, "OK—OK. Stop flirtin' with me. I'd love to go with you, Tommy."

"Alrigh'. Goodnight, sweetheart." He might've followed that with a kiss if he didn't have a shred of impulse control. You bid him goodnight and stalked down the short pathway to your front door — Tommy's eyes going to where they had been going each time you walked away from him.

He was starting to think Joel Miller was right about him.

+1

        As punctual as ever, Tommy Miller arrived at your doorstep in his best button down and jeans accessorised with his favourite buckle. Hair washed away sweat and residue from the afternoon Patrol, he rid his hands of any bloodshed and replaced them with a bouquet of flowers for his date. He had knocked thrice on your door, looking back onto the street to admire the construction work he had done on the house across from hers. He didn't recall fixing your house, but that thought soon distanced from his mind when the front door creaked open to reveal the warmth of the glow within.

        You had the door opened wide, your glasses pushed the bridge of your nose as you grinned at Tommy Miller with flowers in his hand. Flowers just for you.

        "Don't you look dapper." You complimented in a teasing tone and Tommy looked down at his attire and back up — it was hard to wear nice clothes after the Outbreak. Nevertheless, he made an effort and your heart swelled for him.

In a simple long-sleeved grey tee and jeans, yourself, Tommy thought you looked damn near perfect. If not better than perfect.

Floundering like a fish out of water, Tommy coughed, and handed you the flowers.

"I didn't get you anything." You tutted.

Tommy huffed a laugh, "You're givin' me your time and that's as good as it'll get for me."

"Your mama raised you sweet, huh?" You sung. You couldn't help grin from ear to ear before telling Tommy to wait whilst you grabbed a vase and stuck the flowers in. You took his arm that he offered when you returned, the pair of you spoke effortlessly, finding more in common than anticipated.

        He held the door to the Church open, the warm lights brightening your glowing features, the scene reflective in your glasses. Heads turned to welcome them, Tommy noticing his brother mingling, their eyes met and Joel gave him a subtle nod.

        The dance came into full swing after Tommy and you retrieved some drinks, fingers picked at the variety of food brought in for the potluck. You had resided in a corner of the Church, knees knocked together as your feet tapped to the music.

"You know some line dancin'?" Tommy asked over the music.

You shook her head, "No, it looks pretty simple to me though." You looked back to Tommy who was already looking at you, "Why? Are you going to ask me to dance?"

"If it so pleases you, my lady."

Hand slipped into his, you stood.

"I thought you'd never ask."

He tried his damn best to teach you some two-step line dancing moves but turns out, some people were just born with two left feet. You had wobbled, stepped on Tommy's pinky toe a handful of times and forgot the dance, leaving Tommy with deep laughter lines next to his eyes.

"OK. How 'bout we just dance together." Tommy insisted after the heel of your foot met his pinky-toe for the fifth time. Not awaiting an answer, Tommy pulled you in by your waist, positioning you both to dance, "I've got you, baby."

You giggled — making Tommy swoon — as you followed Tommy's lead around the dance floor.

The closeness furthered as the band began to string out a slow-paced song, you smiled against Tommy's chest as you leant your head to listen to the thrum of his heart. It thumped quickly against your eardrum and you closed your eyes, feeling content at where you were. Tommy, chin rested atop of your head, started to see the groups of eyes on you whilst you swayed on the dance floor. Mouths leaning to ears to share a whisper, Tommy swallowed at the idea that they were speaking about him.

Perhaps they also thought he was doing a disservice to his late wife who built the Jackson Commune from the ground up.

        Then came your touch. Warmth spread across his skin wherever you touched, fingertips rubbing across the fabric of his flannel making him look down at you. It pulled him from the inner turmoil, the clouded presumptions cleared as you smoothed the deep wrinkle of worry between his brows.

“Whatever you think they are thinking, they’re not, Tommy.” You read him like a book. On your first date, of all.

“‘M sorry.” He mumbled close to you, a frown capturing his features once again. “Jus’ don’t want them thinkin’ I’m a lousy father. A son without a mother and I’m here dancin’.”

You acknowledged his concern, “Well—Imagine what they think about the Daycare Assistant getting all cosy with Tommy Miller. I bet I’m a real floozy in their eyes if it ever crossed their mind that you’re a lousy father.”

“You are far from a floozy, sweetheart.”

“Then it’s even.” You squeezed his hand, “You’re not a lousy father if I’m not a floozy.”

“Touché.”

“I mean it.” You were serious, the most serious your tone had been. “You’re as present as a widowed-father can be. Trust me. Very few parents ask for a weekly round-up of their kids’ schedule so they can transition it into the days they spend at home with them. Does that shout lousy to you?”

“No, ma’am.”

You triumphed as Tommy dropped his hand to the small of your back, “Then don’t let me hear you say it again.”

Tommy pulled an expression of hilarity at your sternness. It had taken him by surprise how effortlessly you whipped your usual kind and tender personality for a combative one to put Tommy Miller and his self-deprecation in place. He found it incredibly attractive, alongside the subtle praise that came with your chastising.

His body felt hot when he stared at you. Like, really stared at you. A beaming vision of true womanhood. Strong-headed and confident in the knowledge of what you wanted: which was Tommy Miller.

He dipped his head so his lips ghosted the shell of your ear, “Wanna take leave?”

“For the second time, Tommy Miller—” You released yourself from his grip, your eyelids heavy and Tommy was not born a fool to your antics, you began to saunter away, finger curling in an ushering motion, “I’d thought you would never ask.”

Bonus:

The first kiss had depth to it. His large palms trailed over every aspect of your body before they settled on your hips, a low hum coming from the back of his throat as you leant into his touch, chest pressed to his for closeness. Tommy couldn't help prevent a smug smile appear as you continued your kiss, you paused it for a moment to raise a brow at his smile.

"Are you going smug on me, Mr. Miller?" You hushed your tone, fingers threaded at the hair at the nape of his neck.

Tommy shook his head, between pecks he mumbled, "I told you to stop calling me Mr. Miller."

"Yes—" You agreed, index finger against Tommy's lips to stop him from kissing your lips off. In turn, he pressed a gentle kiss to it. "—But, I've seen the way it makes you blush."

This had Tommy chuckling, finger removed from his mouth, he resumed your kiss, hands sliding to the meat of your thighs, quick to hike you up around his waist as you squealed into his mouth.

Your house was considerably smaller than Tommy's — you notably didn't have a husband and kids — and it took nothing but three strides across the room before Tommy turned on the spot and planted himself on your couch; you remained atop his lap, the kiss not broken.

He could feel his heart stammering as your softer hands rubbed at his chest. Tommy Miller was in tranquillity, hands rested and occasionally squeezing at your backside, the shorts of your pyjamas you had changed into upon your arrival at your home, had ridden up in your position so he could feel the crease where your cheek met your thighs.

        Actions halted, you pulled apart, still close enough to feel your quickened breaths.

        Tommy blinked at the sight of you, his thumb coming to swipe the corner of your mouth where spit was trickling down.

        "You droolin', baby?" He asked, his thumb moving back over your swollen lips where you parted them to take his thumb in; teeth nipped at the skin which took Tommy by surprise.

        You smiled as he removed his thumb with a 'pop', nodding to his question. "Yeah—You want some?"

    A beat not going a miss, Tommy Miller eagerly nodded, a primitive grunt leaving his mouth as he manoeuvred you pair, his back hitting the cushions of the base of the couch.

        Thanking his lucky stars for the patrol member that he took shift from.