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mymindisneverhere · 28 days ago

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late night writes… a quickie.

18+ SMUT

Imagine… Terry is having a hard time decompressing from work and he needs you to help him relieve some stress.

he picked you up and placed you onto the table that sat against the wall near the large window in the hotel suite. leaning back on your hands, you watched him grab the chair and drag it over to you. with your skirt lifted above your hips, you spread your legs while he quickly undid his tie, making him lock his gaze onto your treasure. oozing from all of the anticipation that had built over the last business week.

as much time as he spent traveling across the country, going to business meetings and closing deals, the busy days finally caught up to him and he needed to relieve some stress. you were his number one stress reliever.

he booked a flight for you to visit him in the city of Los Angeles. being away from you for more than five days was like a prison sentence for him. he did whatever he could to remain focused in the meetings with his team but as the days went by he found it hard to keep his mind present.

“i’ve been waiting to taste you all week” he said, crashing his lips onto yours, his tongue exploring your mouth making you moan from the obvious desperation he displayed in the kiss. he groaned from the taste of your lips, impatiently pushing your legs apart even further as he prepared you for proper consumption.

finally pulling back from the kiss, he stared down at your center admiring the way you were glistening, showcasing just how ready you were for him. lowering himself into the large chair, he pushed your knees back toward your shoulders. he had you spread eagle on the hotel desk, unashamed of such raunchy behavior in the luxury suite.

“eat me up daddy”

his eyes darted up at you, a beautiful shade of green shining through determined eyes before he leaned in head first between your legs. he swiped his long tongue along your opening, slightly dipping into you, moaning from your unique taste on his buds.

he ran his tongue up and down, savoring every bit of you, the memory planting firmly in his mind all over again. swirling his tongue around your clit, kissing sounds echoing throughout the room, he practically made out with your other set of lips.

the sight of him feasting on you like a ravenous lion made your nipples harden even more through your white top, your brown areolas leaving prints against the sheer fabric.

“mmmm, i missed you so much baby” you cooed, inhaling sharply from the warmth of his breath against your clit. the feeling of every exhale mixed with the cool air in the room introducing a different type of pleasure on top of what he was already providing you with.

pressing your shoulders against the wall behind you to balance yourself, you placed a hand on his head rubbing his crown as he indulged in your sweet spot. you knew this would motivate him to devour you even greater, he liked knowing he did a good job every time.

he pushed your leg back even further, causing your knee to slightly graze your cheek as he buried himself deeper, honing in on your sensitive clit. he had you pinned as he slurped and sucked, your fat lips covering his while he hummed from enjoyment, solely from the taste of you. he pulled back a bit, spitting on your clit just to lick it back up and dive right back in.

“oooh, you’re so fucking nasty.” you smiled biting down on your lip. placing the same hand that was on his head at the hem of your shirt, you lifted it until your unsecured breasts fell out. you eagerly teased your nipples, groping your breasts while he continued sucking on your clit.

he slid his thick finger into you, sitting back to watch joyously as you drenched his finger with every pump. your eyes fell down to his hand, the visual causing you to make even more of a mess on his already messy fingers.

latching onto your clit once again, he moaned from deep within his chest as he continued digging into your opening. the consistent suction from his lips combined with the feeling of his finger caressing your g-spot was making you cum sooner than you wanted to. he always ate you so well, you could never last as long as you tried.

“that feels soooo fucking good big daddy” he growled from the sound of his nickname, the one you called him whenever, wherever. adding another finger into your pussy, he continued moving his hand back and forth, his full lips never leaving the comfort of your lower set.

“ooooooh just like that.” you cooed, lips pursed as you rolled your head to the side. unable to hold yourself together any longer as you felt your clit growing more and more sensitive.

“fuck, im gonna cum in your mouth.” your voice sounded just above a whisper as you felt the intensity that swept over your body. you whined, tightening your grip on your breasts, as your body jerked, praising him and thanking him for giving you what you both had been dying for over the past few days.

he continued licking your button a few more times just to feel you twitch from the slight touch, loving how your breast jumped with every lick. he removed his fingers from your slit, licking the remainder of you off of his fingers.

“sweet fucking pussy” he stood up and undid his pants, moving as if you were going to get up and leave at any moment. you stared up at him through your eyelashes, biting your lip, watching as he stared down at you. he looked so fucking good when he was sexually frustrated, practically rushing to stick his dick in you.

he dropped his underwear and pants simultaneously and grabbed your leg, pushing himself upward against your opening, using your juices as a natural lubricant. he slapped your clit with his tip a few times, a stringy blend of your essence and his precum connecting you and him with each slap, before positioning his dick right at your entrance.

you could tell he was bracing himself for the grip your pussy would have on him, you always took him in so nice and tightly.

“fuck your pussy daddy” you encouraged him, causing him to push right into you, your slick making the process so easy for him. your eyebrows twisted in pleasure as you felt your walls take shape around his thick dick. “shit” was the only thing he could manage. his mouth parted a bit as his eyes closed, taking in the feeling of you around him, you fit him like a glove.

he pushed all the way into you until you were pelvis to pelvis. you felt the pressure of his length deep in your belly as you struggled to speak. leaning forward and resting both of your legs in the bend of his arms, he placed his hands on the table and rocked his hips forward, a moan of relief and satisfaction leaving his beautiful lips.

you loved seeing him like this, fully lost in your essence, completely disoriented. he dug into you, his dick gliding in and out effortlessly as a serene expression washed over his face.

his eyes had yet to open, completely in a meditative state as he enjoyed the feelings you brought him; pleasure and peace. you reached up and ran your thumb across his lips, an attempt to ground him as he chased his much needed orgasm. his eyes opened and fell on you, nothing but hunger and slight desperation expressed in them.

“that’s right, fuck this pussy daddy. it’s yours.” the sultry sounds of your voice moaning such filth caused his body to fold. leaning into you even more he dropped his head onto your shoulder, “f-fuck this shit so good baby” shuddering as he spoke. you wrapped your hand around the nape of his neck, caressing the back of his head.

dipping your tongue slightly in his ear, you felt his breath hitch against your neck. curses left his lips unwillingly as you continued toying with only one of his sweet spots but he kept the pace. he plowed into you, knocking the table in a rhythm against the wall providing sound to how hard he was fucking you. he was fully caught up in your rapture, not caring if anyone in the hall could hear because he needed this.

“i’m bout to cum all in this pussy baby“ his lips pressed against your neck as he kept fucking you, lifting his hands to get a tight grip on your thighs. you placed your lips over his ear and moaned, “give me that nut, i need it” you begged, knowing that would break him. a deep groan rumbled in his chest as he kept pressing into you. “please daddy? give it to me.”

“fuuuuuck” he moaned as he gave you a few more long hard thrusts before holding himself in place, releasing his seed deep into you. you couldn’t help but stare at the mirror across the room watching as his ass cheeks clenched tightly while he shot his cum into your very deserving cunt.

“s-s-shit” he whimpered, body still reacting from the long awaited orgasm that sat bubbled in his abdomen. his face was still buried deep in the crook of your neck. the feeling of his breath against your skin made you smile. he stood still, not wanting to pull out just yet, chest rising against yours as he brought himself down.

you continued rubbing the back of his head while he caught his breath. placing soft kisses along his ear lobe, he finally loosened the grip on your thighs and placed his hands back on the table. wanting to see him tremble once more, you squeezed your walls causing him to jerk a bit before jumping back, pulling out of you from the sudden sensitivity.

you both looked down to watch the cum drip out of you. using your finger to catch some before it could reach the table, you ran the sweet on your tongue, humming from the taste of him.

“you’re not going back home until i’m finished working, i need you here with me.”

oh how you loved helping him relieve stress

#x black!fem!reader #x black fem reader #x black y/n #x black reader #aaron pierre #terry richmond fic #terry richmond #aaron pierre fanfiction #aaron pierre x black fem reader #rebel ridge #aaron pierre x black reader #aaron pierre fic #terry richmond x black female reader #terry richmond x black!oc

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fraugwinska · 5 months ago

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I'm so in love with your writing!!!! If you are doing requests could you write about the first time Alastor and his darling spend the night together? Maybe they are up late listening to music and his darling suggests he stay the night. They are new to the whole relationship thing and Alastor is awkward but agrees. Could be a touch spicy but mostly just fluff. <3

I did a unique take on this, I hope you don't mind, my lovely Anon? I had the inspiration for it in a fleeting moment and just started to type, remembering your ask... And I kinda love what came out of it! :> As always, @macabr3-barbi3 was my rock and my anchor during the writing process - you have too much patience with me, love! <3

And a huge 'Thank you' to the lovely, ever-so-talented @minkdelovely for prereading this for me to find the perfect title for this story. You are both an inspiration and a delight, and I truly appreciate you, my darling!

Kissing was something Alastor had slowly gotten used to. Kissing you, that is.

You had made it easy for him, he'd give you that. Patience is a virtue rarely found in hell, but when the turning point in his friendship with you tipped the scale to the side of more amorous realms, the Radio Demon, normally superior and confident, had found himself to be exceedingly useless. The lines between companionship and partnership were drawn by his mind rather than physical barriers, and crossing them alone had been a tremendous effort for him. Alastor had never thought he'd feel anything for another sinner, hell, the bare concept of feeling was generally strange to him.

Love was something that had been intimately intertwined with the feeling he had for his mother. So pure, and so lost and unretrievable after her untimely death. To feel this similar yet completely different kind of love for you? Unimaginable, and yet, there you were. And with an unbelievable ease you slowly took root in his mind, weaving your way into his thoughts and settling in his heart without you putting in real conscious effort. Had your encounters been mostly accidental and brief at first, Alastor found himself longing to walk into you more and more before actively seeking your company. To you, he was never unwelcome, in complete contrast to the other residents of the hotel, who tended to avoid or flee from him whenever they could. Whether he would be annoyingly chatty in amusement, hurtful in cold anger or buzzing with excitement (and sometimes murderous glee) - you entertained his whims, listened intently or soothed him with a few chosen words, always finding the right ones.

You shift in his arms, your head leaning a little in to grant his hungry mouth better access to yours with a small, delicious sigh, ignoring or maybe even blissfully unaware that your lips must've caught on his teeth somewhere along the line and ripped open, thin, beautiful crimson lines slowly running down the sides of your mouth. He always said that red suited you best.

Your differences made you quite an odd sight in hell's scenery. What many could only admire with a good dose of fear was never scary to you and the fact you openly regarded the Radio Demon with polite respect and genuine endearment left quite an impression on the others - so much so that it had earned you the hushed title 'Daddy-Deer Whisperer', bestowed by the ever-so-childish Angel Dust. It was when he caught you scolding Angel for using that expression and spreading his usual slander about him with a rare display of open anger that he first felt the gentle tug in his chest that has since remained whenever you were near Alastor. At first, he had shrugged it off as another of his eccentricities, or perhaps hunger pangs he hadn't fulfilled for a while (A very likely thing given his... appetite). But it persisted whenever you looked at him with that little smile on your lips, and he knew. Knew that he had to have you, and that you would be his, in good time. He could never have imagined how easy that would turn out to be, how accommodating to his needs you were from the moment you acknowledged his advances, and were able to keep up with his admittedly glacial pace from then on. While no one dared to ridicule him to his face, the others were comfortable enough around you to tease you for having a partner that seemed so uninterested in physical attention. Well.

While they were not completely mistaken, they didn't know all there was to Alastor the demon with the eternal smile. The foreignness of what it meant to touch and love and the, he had to say it, pitiful lack in experience made Alastor hesitant for the first time in both of his lifes. How could he publicly display his affections when he could barely bring himself to show them in the confines of your company alone? Yet you never demanded anything physical from him, and he realized with a startle that you were perfectly content with just being with him. Where it had taken him weeks to consider kissing you for the first time, it took another couple or so to slowly allow his touches to drift from a brief grasp on an elbow or waist to a tighter grip, resting a hand at the small of your back, enjoying the sensation of your hip bone gently pressing into his palm, pulling you a little bit closer as your hands ran over his arms. In his embrace your arms found their natural place on his shoulders, the weight becoming familiar and calming to him. Until one day, it wasn't anymore. One day he noticed, truly recognized the feeling of you in his arms and found himself struggling not to pull you even closer. And without much thinking, his lips had been on yours, chaste almost and testing, savoring the contact and tasting you without the need to devour. And he found that with you, only you, just a taste was so much more satiating.

It was the first of many kisses shared, but to Alastor, this one held a special significance. You had been stunned, yes, but when he withdrew, overstimulated and unsure of his actions, he found neither judgment or reproach, only a silent smile and a hint of blush on your cheeks before you had returned the affection in your own, respectful way that he appreciated so much - soft pressure and warmth enveloping his hands - and a change of topic, easing him into a lighthearted conversation that had lasted hours, just to calm his nerves. Since then, Alastor has held on to these memories, his firsts with you. And there were countless - all kept near to your heart. Charlie, Angel and Niffty could pester you with any intrusive, interrogating question, you would only smile at them and repeat the same sentiment: What you see is the only thing you get to know.

"Alastor?"

"Hm?" Your voice pulls him out of his thoughts, and his eyes focus on your beautiful face where he sees your brows furrowed with what he learned is concern.

"Is everything okay? You seemed to be somewhere else."

Ah, you were worried. For him. As you always were, so susceptible to his needs, as if it was natural to you. Another peculiarity and yet an incredibly welcome thing for a creature like him who found himself on the receiving end of unreciprocated concern very, very rarely.

"Just a little lost in thought is all, my dear."

"We can stop you know, it's almost midnight anyway." you say softly, your hands streaking soothingly over his arm as they slowly retreat from his shoulders.

He pauses, debating if the sensation of your fingertips touching the soft skin below his buzzed undercut, coupled with a very, very warm and inviting kiss had been enough. Had it ever been? Enough? It wasn't that you ever had any expectations of what would come after, seemingly content with anything he'd allow you to have - a softly spoken praise, an elegant compliment or even just peaceful silence before he'd take his leave. And knowing this Alastor suddenly is... displeased with the idea of this moment not lasting.

His claws wrap around your hands, a gentle pull guiding them back to their rightful place, back to the nape of his neck. He enjoys the rare sight of your surprised and red-flushed face before he let his lips trail your jawline, relishing in the way your skin breaks into goosebumps under his mere breath and fleeting touch before he speaks.

"I'm not so sure about that. Being able to stop, that is."

And he's true to his words. A searing fire is lit when your lips meet his again and his body tenses as he tries and fails to restrain the feeling it coaxes within him. Alastor wants to stay this time, wants to hold this miraculous thing that loves him so undeservingly close, wants to experience the feeling of skin on skin in your pristine bed sheets as he allows himself a rare night of sleep, with your sweet sighs as his lullaby and soft body as his covers. Another first with you, to add to the collection. And while you were always willing to indulge him, he feels, in the way you were pressing into him in cautious urgency, the whine that slips beyond the restriction of your bitten lips and the tremble of your fingers that you weaved into his hair, that this is - finally - what you, maybe for the first time, selfishly crave for, too.

Patience is a virtue, yes, but after all this saintly time he'd allow the both of you the sin of greed for a night.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fraugwinskawrites #alastor fluff #the fluff fairy strikes again!#A pinch of tension #Alastor is bad at having feelings #what else is new #gravitational pull #kiss the deer

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yanderes-galore · 3 months ago

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Yandere rivals between Vaggie and Angel dust who both grown attached to overlord reader ? Platonic please and hcs if possible

I was a bit unsure how to do this at first... but I think there's some interesting dynamics between characters to explore here.

Part of me wants to write something separate for the dynamic you, Angel, and Val have in this. That seems good enough on its own to explore. ALSO! So sorry it got complicated... I had too many thoughts I lost the plot half the time.

@okchijt helped me enrich the rivalry portion near the end.

Yandere! Platonic! Vaggie vs Platonic! Angel Dust with Overlord! Darling

(FT. Alastor + Valentino + Charlie)

Pairing: Platonic - Rivalry

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Overprotective behavior, Trauma, Violence, Abuse (Angel and Val), Unhealthy coping mechanisms, Implied Manipulation, Dubious companionship(s).

At first it's a bit difficult to see where you can place another Overlord.

Vaggie would naturally struggle to trust another Overlord based on the ones she's seen/interacted with.

Same thing with Angel due to the fact his soul is owned by an Overlord.

So, both of these characters obsessing over an Overlord is... strange.

The only thing I can think of is you're an Overlord supporting the hotel.

One thing the two share in common is their care for Charlie, no matter how ridiculous her ideas are.

So maybe you're an Overlord who's investing in or just interested in the hotel and its inhabitants.

You'd often come to the hotel to speak with Charlie, not usually going out of your way to have soul deals with anyone there (as per an agreement with Charlie).

This could be a way to get you on good terms with the two.

HOWEVER, This ALSO creates unique relationships between you and Alastor/Valentino.

I imagine Overlords tend to have a territory.

They don't typically want free Overlords in their space or touching their property.

Which means, a new Overlord would catch the attention of Alastor and Val.

First of all, Alastor will notice you often around the hotel and Charlie.

While his role is being a defender of the hotel and yours is simply supplying it, Alastor may feel a bit threatened... or even interested when it comes to your presence.

There's a good chance you can actually get along with Alastor if you aren't a threat... maybe.

When it comes to Val, however?

None whatsoever.

Val would hate you interacting with Angel.

Especially when Angel gets attached.

So, I feel a rivalry like this might come off as complex.

Even more so with the fact you're an Overlord.

Vaggie becomes close to you because you both care for Charlie.

You're seen as an ally and she respects your abilities.

Plus, you're more respectable than most other Overlords here.

She's always found Alastor... shifty.

Vaggie comes off as an overprotective yandere, even if you're a strong Overlord.

Actually, that fact alone makes Vaggie want to protect you due to Alastor.

Alastor no doubt wants to make a deal with you due to your power.

Power is his end game and he isn't sure if Charlie would even need you to be an Overlord.

He can handle it, so why not make a deal with him to give over your power?

Vaggie is often the one trying to keep one (or two) Overlords off your back.

It's originally because she doesn't want Charlie to stress or worry.

But later it's because she genuinely cares about you, Overlord or not.

Angel is a bit more dependent when attached.

At first he pays you no mind.

Oh great, another Overlord to force their way into things.

As if Alastor and Val aren't enough.

He tries not to pay you any mind, often ignoring you.

However, maybe you comfort him after an argument with Val.

You notice him covered in marks and become oddly attentive.

He originally tries to push away, telling you off while he tries to isolate himself.

He finds the idea of an Overlord being caring odd.

Even Alastor does it to get his way.

Yet... You appear to be genuinely concerned...

He hates that he enjoys it.

What may solidify his attachment is you standing up to Val or something.

That or just defending Angel in general.

With you he feels less... guarded.

He knows being around you pisses Val off.

At times Angel gets concerned for your well-being because Val can be dangerous as a Vee.

Yet you try to reassure him you're alright with it.

Even though Angel tries to distance himself for your sake... He can never stay away for long.

Oof... Things just get messy when Angel's attached.

Mostly because Val is erratic and temperamental.

ALL OF THAT and I have yet to discuss Vaggie and Angel actually fighting.

See what I mean by this is more complicated than I thought it would be?

Vaggie and Angel can agree on one thing... you're helpful, sweet, and important to them.

The two also tend to keep you away from two other Overlords.

You're meddling where you shouldn't, even if you don't mean to, but these two act as good allies to you.

I don't imagine their rivalry gets too violent.

They wouldn't try to end one another, mostly it's just arguments on who cares for you better.

But it's not like you're all that vulnerable.

No, you're an Overlord, most of the time you're caring for them.

You help Vaggie be more confident in helping Charlie and even give helpful suggestions and supplies to Charlie herself.

With Angel you often try tending to his wounds, talking to him, and trying to help him cope in a less destructive way than vices (Alcohol, Drugs, Smoking.)

He doesn't listen all the time but he does somewhat appreciate the sentiment.

The two fighting is mostly due to you being occupied with the other or the Overlords upset with you.

Vaggie tends to blame Angel for Val's actions towards you.

It's often a heat of the moment kind of thing, she doesn't entirely mean it but it slips.

Meanwhile Angel thinks Vaggie only cares about you due to Charlie.

Angel may even say Vaggie couldn't defend you from Alastor or that you're being used in some way.

It's all mostly petty but it ruins the bond between them.

Much to Charlie's dismay.

Alastor may comment on their behavior with you.

He muses that they act like lost children in your presence.

He finds it all very amusing.

He also finds it strange you managed to get them to both like you... even more so to this point.

He may even ask if you have ulterior motives, which you don't share.

Motives or not, the two probably would still care for you if they bicker this much over your "care".

Val just seems to get aggressive with you.

He claims you're stealing Angel from him, to which you decline.

You're merely helping Angel, which makes Val more frustrated.

The Vees are never good with their temper.

It's so easy for you two to fight.

You may even come back to the hotel with wounds, leaving Vaggie concerned and Angel guilty.

You help the two in many ways.

Be it from actual care or benefiting yourself... it yields the same result.

Charlie congratulates you for befriending them and helping the hotel...

Yet she is concerned about them at times.

Charlie often has to prevent the two from fighting.

She'd also be concerned about you and Val's fighting.

Both yandere are mostly overprotective.

Angel may also be clingy when he's vulnerable but he tries not to be.

This rivalry, as petty or light as it is, comes with many moving parts.

You're less concerned with Vaggie and Angel... and more concerned about the other bonds they have and how you complicate them.

I don't know, I no doubt overcomplicated the request, but it's genuine thoughts and concerns I have when thinking of these two.

Overall, I feel their rivalry is more petty than anything.

They themselves wouldn't hurt you as you're an Overlord... but the two end up hating each other.

It's a bit difficult for me to see them fighting though... as due to how complicated these dynamics are, the two would probably just learn to share.

You help them both, they help you, they may not need to fight.

Even if they shared though... I can see arguments occurring due to Alastor and Val.

The two wouldn't be able to kidnap you or manipulate you too much.

Murdering people for you? Sure, I can see that.

They're both protective and capable... but would they need to?

Lesser demons don't come near you and they can't kill Overlords.

Oof... you having the Overlord title in general makes this complicated too....

Vaggie is protective and isolating, wanting you to focus on the hotel more than Angel to make Charlie happy.

She makes herself your personal assistant, ushering you to focus on her, Charlie, and the hotel. Not Angel or Alastor.

To her, this is how you two bond.

She doesn't mind sharing with Charlie... but she tries not to allow you any more time with the others.

Angel is not only protective and clingy, but possessive.

He loves it when you just come to see him because you're concerned.

It gives him an ego.

He likes the attention so much that he'll lie to make you stay longer.

He's never felt more comfortable... and he uses this time to mess with Vaggie.

He's a distraction and he enjoys it.

Vaggie thinks Angel is hogging all of your attention... You have other things to attend to.

Meanwhile Angel accuses Vaggie of boring you and not giving you a choice on what to do.

You have your work cut out for you at the hotel, especially with these two so close to you...

All I have to say is this... Good Luck.

#yandere hazbin hotel #yandere hazbin hotel x reader #yandere vaggie #yandere angel dust #platonic yandere

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daisynik7 · 1 year ago

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congrats on hitting 2k! if song repeats are allowed i’d like to request Promiscuous with stripper!nanami inspired by that one fan art smutty ofc tysm ❤️

Promiscuous

Pairing: stripper!Nanami x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~4.0k

cw: modern day setting, no curses au, Americanized customs in regard to bachelorette parties, explicit language, explicit sexual content, smut – PIV sex (reverse cowgirl), cunnilingus, cream pie, slight breeding kink

Summary: You’re the maid-of-honor for your best friend Sara, the bride-to-be. This weekend, you’re celebrating her bachelorette party and what better way to end the night than at the strip club? Little do you expect that the breadsticks from dinner would come in handy much more than you think.

Author’s Notes: Thank you for the request anon for the y2k karaoke party! In case anyone wants to see the fan art being referenced, here’s the link on twitter. I didn’t want to use it as the header in case the artist doesn’t allow it. Anyways, this was such a fun one for me to write and I hope it’s a fun one for you all to read! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are ALWAYS appreciated! Thanks for reading! MDNI divider credit to @/cafekistune.

“Bruno! Another Aperol Spritz, please!” Sara slurs happily at the waiter.

He flashes her a thumbs up, disappearing into the other room towards the bar. Five of Sara’s bridesmaids, including you, the maid-of-honor, gather around the table, blitzed on either cocktails or Prosecco. You’re tipsy at best, purposefully holding back to take on the responsibility of making sure everything goes as planned tonight. As long as the bride has the time of her life and returns to the hotel in one piece, you’ll be happy.

Sara is the only one tonight wearing white, while the rest of you stun in little black dresses, sporting hot pink cowboy hats atop your heads and cowboy boots on your feet, celebrating the bride’s “last rodeo.” By the end of your meal, everyone in your party is giddy and ready for the next destination in your itinerary: the strip club, which is a few blocks away. You manage to pack the leftover breadsticks from dinner into your purse, anticipating that it will come in handy, especially when the drunken munchies start to hit. Together, the six of you parade the sidewalk, giggling and stumbling into the venue, beaming at the bouncer with goofy smiles as you display your IDs to him.

You’re sat at a table near the front of the stage, next to the runway. Next to you is Sara, who is swaying in her seat, resting her head on your shoulder, mumbling something about more alcohol. You pet her hair, knowing she needs water more than anything, so you ask one of the other less intoxicated girls to sit beside her, telling the rest of the group that you’ll grab drinks for everyone. With your bag, you go to the bar, taking the empty spot between another bachelorette party taking shots and a bespectacled blonde man in a tan suit, sipping on a glass of whiskey on the rocks.

The bartender, a beautiful brunette with soft brown eyes, nods at you before she helps the other patrons who were there first, so you wait patiently for her to return. The bridesmaid next to you, a feather boa around her neck, bumps into you by accident. She apologizes profusely, the potent smell of tequila wafting from her breath. You laugh, assuring her it’s alright and congratulating the bride. They offer you a shot, refusing, so instead they drape one of their fluffy scarves on your shoulders.

When they leave, the man to your other side chuckles, taking a swig of his liquor, smirking. “I’m surprised you didn’t take the free shot.”

You glance at him, taken aback by his handsome appearance. Slightly flustered, you focus your eyes on his uniquely spotted tie. “I’m taking care of another bride tonight, so I can’t get too wasted.”

He turns to face you completely now, and you can’t help scanning his physique, impressed by his stature, and of course, extremely good looks. “How responsible of you. Let me guess, you’re the maid-of-honor?”

This time, you meet his gaze, grinning with a shrug. “Guilty as charged.”

He reaches towards you, tipping the brim of your cowboy hat, getting a better view of your face. “And what’s the story behind this get-up?”

You laugh nervously, reluctant to explain. “It’s her last rodeo. You know, the last ride for the bride.” Heat rushes into your cheeks, already frazzled by his presence, now embarrassed about the clichés.

Amused, he hums. “Ah, I see. Clever.” He holds his hand out. “I’m Kento Nanami. Nice to meet you.”

You take it, introducing yourself. It’s obvious he’s here alone, and you wonder what someone like him is doing here at a male dance venue dressed like this, as if he came straight from the office. However, you’re not here to make assumptions about strangers, so you don’t question it.

The bartender finally approaches you, apologizing. “Sorry for the wait. It’s been really busy tonight.”

You wave it off, telling her it’s fine, ordering a few cocktails and a water. Before she starts on your order, she looks at Nanami. “Need anything else, Kento?” You’re curious about their relationship, which seems close given the first-name basis.

He twirls his drink, ice clinking in the glass. “If you have any food in there, that would be great.”

She pushes a container of maraschino cherries towards him. “You know we don’t. Here’s some healthy fruit to hold you over for the show.”

He snorts, ��Thanks, Shoko.”

She makes the drinks in silence, leaving you alone with him once more. You set your purse on the counter, unzipping it to retrieve the pack of warm breadsticks from the Italian restaurant, sliding it to him. He looks at it, then at you, surprised.

“It’s your lucky day.”

Still in disbelief, he opens it slowly, inhaling the fragrant aroma of garlic and butter. He pulls one out, staring at it like he’s just discovered hidden treasure. “Am I dreaming right now?”

You beam at him. “This is totally real.”

He takes a bite, eyes fluttering. “This is heavenly. Are you sure I’m not dreaming?”

You giggle, watching him savor it. “I told you: it’s your lucky day.”

He takes another one, smiling. “It really is.” Wiping one side of his mouth with a napkin, he adds, “Not that it matters, but I’m curious. Why does a beautiful cowgirl like yourself have my favorite food in her purse?”

You try not to the let the subtle compliment faze you, though you’re not sure how good of a job you’re doing considering how hot your body is, especially your face. “I took it from the restaurant we had dinner at in case any of my friends need it for later.”

Halfway into the second breadstick, he comments, “You really are a good girl, aren’t you?”

Another comment that flusters you. Quickly, you pull yourself together. “I’m just trying to make sure everyone’s having a good time and won’t feel sick later.”

He finishes it off, licking the residual butter off his fingers. “Well, I won’t take all of it, then. You never know how the night will go, right?” He passes it to you, chugging the rest of his booze until there’s only ice left.

Shoko returns with your drinks, including a water for Sara. You hand her your card, expecting to pay, but Nanami interjects. “Shoko, put it on my tab.”

You gape at him. “You don’t have to – ”

“I want to. For the breadsticks,” he winks. He stands, grabbing two of your cocktails. “Can I help you bring these to your party?”

Stunned, and completely infatuated now, you nod without speaking, leading him to your table. Your friends ogle him when he serves them, probably smitten like you. You make one more trip for the remaining drinks, giving Sara the water, who reluctantly sips on it. “Thank you. I don’t know what I can do to make it up to you.”

“Just have a good time tonight, then we’ll call it even. I’ll see you later.” He waves goodbye to you and your friends, walking towards the rear of the club, for employees only.

Your curiosity peaks, though you don’t have time to ponder it because dance music begins blaring through the speakers, resulting in cheers from the audience. Sara hollers from her seat, drinking her water with a stack of bills in her hands, ready to toss at the dancers.

The emcee, a muscular older gentleman who calls himself “the Principal”, stands to the side of the stage, wearing an all-black suit and sports sunglasses. “Are you ladies ready for a special show tonight?”

Everyone applauds, excited for the performers to come out. “Let’s bring them out! Our first dancer is mysterious, sexy, and maybe just a little bit scary. A voice that can put any woman in a trance, and an even better body that will make anyone loyal to him, please give a big round of applause for…the Master!” A man with long, black hair draped on his back in a traditional Buddhist robe walks across the stage, smirking at the crowd with an alluring expression on his face. Many of the women scream for him, clearly already a favorite. He winks, resulting in louder shrieks.

“Next, class is in session! He’s got bright blue eyes that can peer into your soul and undress you in seconds. And when he’s not too busy doing that, he’s disciplining his very, very naughty students. Please welcome…the Professor!” This results in an overwhelming standing ovation, a couple of woman already tossing their bills towards him as an impressively tall and fit man with snow-white hair struts next to the Master, beaming towards the audience.

Two more dancers are introduced, leaving one left. “Last, and certainly not least. He’s wise, he’s good with money. Most of all, he hates work. But if it’s with a pretty coworker like you, he’ll work overtime to give you that good lovin’. Please give it up for…the Salary Man!”

To your shock, Nanami walks across, in the same exact outfit you saw him in earlier. When he takes his place at the end of the line, he glances at you, giving you a small wave. Sara whips around, shaking your shoulders. “He just waved at you!”

The entire show, you’re focused on Nanami, who graces the stage with smooth and fluid movements, hips thrusting into the air, booty popping in those tight slacks. At some point, each dancer starts to shed their clothing. He strips out of his jacket, tossing it towards your party where your friends catch it. Eventually, they reach the point of the show where each dancer performs a solo act. They step up and choose a woman in the audience who volunteers to be selected, usually a bride. You turn to Sara, asking her who her choice would be. She points to Nanami, whispering, “Definitely him.” A pang of jealously surrounds your chest, wishing you were posing as a bride tonight. It passes quickly, happy to live vicariously through your best friend.

After the first four strippers perform, Nanami’s turn comes. He steps forward in his half-buttoned dress shirt and unzipped slacks, teasing the black briefs he’s wearing beneath. Many women raise their hands, begging to be picked. Sara hoists both her arms, waving at him. He looks at her, then at you, back to her, holding his palm out to beckon her on stage. Suddenly, Sara shoves you, yelling, “She’s going up for me!”

The rest of the crowd cheers, coaxing you to get on. Nanami has a pleased grin on his face, waiting for you, almost like he expected this. You make your way slowly, stunned that this is really happening. As you stand before him, he pulls the feather boa off you slowly, letting it fall beside him on the floor, tipping your hat to see your face, like he did earlier at the bar. You can barely make out the Principal saying, “It seems our cowgirl has finally found her cowboy! Better take the proper position!”

Nanami’s voice is hot on your ear, low and soothing amidst the chaos surrounding you. “Can you lay down for me? I promise, I won’t touch you.”

You swallow hard, bending to lay flat on the stage, head towards the crowd. Nanami stands above you with you between his legs. You notice the outline of his cock in his pants and before you know it, you’re salivating profusely, pussy throbbing with arousal. The music starts, and soon, the familiar chorus plays: Promiscuous girl, wherever you are I’m all alone and it’s you that I want. Nanami trails down his chest, popping the rest of his buttons on his dress shirt, revealing his chiseled abs for everyone to gawk at.

The intense bass of the song and the shrieks of those watching pound your eardrums, and even with that as a distraction, all you can do is fixate on Nanami grinding his hips into the air, eyes never leaving yours. Soon, he’s kneeling over you, straddling your chest, still not touching. He rocks himself above you, moving with the beat of the music, bills raining you from the other women. Arms caging you in, he leans in, soothing voice in your ear again, whispering, “You can touch me, if you’d like.” He sits up, straddling you, running his fingers through his hair.

Without thinking, you act on instinct, hooking at the elastic of his briefs, tugging to snap it against his waist. The other dancers behind him whoop, encouraging you to keep going; you drift up to fondle his abs. Sara cheers the loudest from her seat, chucking the rest of her money at you and Nanami.

Unfortunately, the song fades out, ending the performance. There’s a standing ovation, more cash being thrown on stage. Nanami doesn’t seem to care as he removes himself from you, helping you on your feet. “Are you alright?”

Too mortified to meet his gaze, you look at the floor at all the bills scattered, nodding sheepishly. You’re not sure how you make it to your seat, Sara hugging you tightly, the other girls hollering for you. Your mind is still completely focused on Nanami, desperate for more.

The show ends and the emcee announces that the dancers will come out to greet the crowd. You have your face buried in your hands, embarrassed about the whole situation, despite your friends being thrilled about. Wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible, you gather everyone, ready to return to the hotel just a four blocks away. On your way towards the exit, someone grabs your wrist gently. You turn, surprised to be face Nanami, in his office attire. He murmurs your name, a blush in his cheeks, hair ruffled from his rousing performance. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Snapping out of it, you reply, “Yes, I’m fine. Thank you for such a fun night.”

You expect him to let you go, but he doesn’t, holding your hand in his. “I don’t live far from here. Just down the street.” He reaches into his pocket, passing a business card to you. “Call me if you want. I’d really like to see you again, get to know you better.”

You take it, smiling at him. “We have to get to our hotel now. But thank you.”

He nods politely, dropping his grip, watching you leave out the door with the rest of your cowgirls.

~~~

It takes nearly two hours to get everyone settled for the night. Stomped on cowboy hats litter the floor of your hotel room. Whatever is left of the breadsticks gets consumed within minutes while the remaining snacks you’ve purchased throughout the trip are eaten without so much as a crumb left. You make sure everyone is hydrated with their own water bottles and help them unzip their little black dresses so that they can slip into their pajamas. Sara keeps babbling about how much fun she had, how hot all of the strippers were. She ends up leaving her soon-to-be husband a hilariously drunk voicemail reiterating her love for him.

It's a little past three in the morning, the rest of the girls sleeping soundly in the bed, your best friend snoring noisily. Nobody budges when you sneak out of the room in your black dress, rocking the cowboy hat and boots, following the directions to the address Nanami texted you after you messaged him first, asking if he’s still up. You don’t expect him to respond seconds later, convinced he’s asleep by now, so you’re more than excited to know that he’s awake, possibly waiting for you.

He meets you in the lobby of his apartment complex, dressed in grey sweatpants and a white undershirt. Even in his casual wear, you’re drawn to him. He looks you up and down, smirking when he sees you. “Howdy, cowgirl.”

You laugh, following him to the elevator heading up the fifth floor. His hands are stuffed in his pockets during the ride, keeping a safe distance from you. You tap your foot, the boots making a clicking noise on the tiled floor. You turn to him, inching a bit closer. “I hope I didn’t keep you up. It took a while to get everyone to bed.”

He faces you, eyes twinkling with kindness. “You’re a really good friend, taking care of them like that.” He pauses, stepping to the side, closing the distance, arms brushing now. “But who’s taking care of you?”

Deciding to be bold, you reply, “I was hoping you could take care of me tonight. If you’re okay with that.”

The doors split open, finally on the right floor. He reaches for you, lacing his fingers with yours, leading you into the hallway, rushing to his room. Once inside, he traps you against the door, caging you between his arms, looking at you with an intense expression. “You’re sure you want me to take care of you?”

You tug on his collar, pulling him in. “I’m positive.” He leans in kissing you softly on the lips, palm cupping your cheek. He breaks apart briefly to remove your hat, tossing it behind him, going in for more. You slip out of your shoes, following him into the bedroom, kicking the door closed behind you.

“Can you lay down for me, sweetheart?” He’s hot on your ear, exactly the way he said it on the stage just hours ago. You bite back a moan, so incredibly turned on while you get on the bed, lying flat on your back, anticipating. He rolls the hem of your dress up your thighs, enough so that you can spread them apart, exposing your panties to him, already damp with arousal.

“Wow,” he says, kissing the plush of your thighs. “You’re incredible.” He hooks the crotch of your panties to the side, pussy throbbing. He swears under his breath, readjusting himself so that he can stroke his cock through his pants, pressing a soft kiss to your clit. You squirm from the contact, moaning his name, his tongue licking circles around you. He doesn’t hold back, pushing himself deeper, lapping at your clit.

You clench the sheets beneath you, grinding on his face. He responds by eating you out sloppier, spitting thick wads of saliva to smear on your clit. “Fuck, you taste so good,” he groans, licking your cunt, collecting your slick on his tongue. “I want you to come on my face, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?”

Head thrown into the pillows, you whimper, “Yes,” reaching for his hair, feeling him thrash around, slobbering all over you until you climax, gushing into his mouth. He continues to flick your swollen bud with his tongue while you ride out your high, stopping only when you recoil from him, overstimulated. He surfaces, meeting your lips with his, messy with your arousal. You exchange a few more kisses before he strips his shirt off, followed by his pants. You almost gasp out loud at the impressive bulge in his briefs, palming it.

He nibbles on your ear lobe, rutting his erection against you, whispering, “Ride it, cowgirl. Ride me.”

Sliding out of your panties, you get into position, facing away while you straddle him, his grip on your ankles, adjusting you so you’re sat on his lap. You lift your ass, letting him guide his hard cock inside you, stretching you out gradually, inch-by-inch. “Fuck,” you hear him curse behind you, bottoming out. He slaps one of your cheeks, squeezing the flesh between his fingers. You bounce on him, ass jiggling with each pump of his cock, slutty moans pouring out of your mouth.

“Look at you go, fuck. You’re perfect. So perfect for me,” he purrs, guiding you up and down his dick.

He’s so deep, hitting that sweet spot with every thrust, your core tight with pleasure. Your tongue hangs out, drool leaking from the sides of your lips, eyes glazed over in bliss. You’re getting your brains fucked out of you and you find yourself blurting out every carnal desire crossing your mind. “Film me, Nanami. Want to see it.”

He gets even stiffer. “Yeah? You want to see how this fat ass swallows my cock up, huh? Better ride it harder, cowgirl.” Reaching for his phone, he holds it up, camera towards you. Before he records, he confirms one more time, “Are you sure you want this, sweetheart?”

You nod, whimpering, “Yes,” leaning down to grip the end of the bed, giving you more leverage to get fucked deeper.

“There you go. Keep fucking me,” he grunts, filming you now. “Use this cock to get yourself off. Let me take care of you, make you feel good.” His voice encouraging you pushes you closer to the edge, on the verge of another orgasm. You whine his name, moving faster.

“What is it, baby?” he coos, sweat beading on his forehead. “Are you going to come for me again?”

“Fuck yeah. Going to come on this cock,” you moan, rubbing your clit.

“Then do it. Give me all that fucking cum, sweetheart. Don’t hold back. Squirt on it. Cream all over it, oh fuck,” he growls, thrusting into you. “Can I come with you? Please, pretty girl? Can I breed you and make you mine?”

That does it. You orgasm, clutching him tight, pussy squeezing around him. Seconds later, he comes, filling you with his hot load, pumping his cock until he’s milked dry. He stays inside you for a bit, admiring the view before lifting your ass to pull out, watching his creamy mess leak out of you slowly, wet cock flopped against his abdomen. He stops the recording, running his fingers along his hair, damp with perspiration. “Come here,” he says, caressing one of your ankles tenderly, setting his phone on the nightstand.

You crawl to him, nuzzling your nose to his chest as he wraps you in his arms. It’s silent for a moment, neither of you sure of what to say next. He clears his throat, speaking first. “I hope you don’t think I do this often.”

You look at him, confused. “Do what?”

“Take women home from work. To do this.”

Smiling, you respond, “Even if you did, it wouldn’t matter to me.”

He hugs you tighter, kissing you on the forehead. “Still, I just wanted to make that clear.”

You trace the outline of his abs idly. “Well, in that case, I don’t do this often either.��

He chuckles, mimicking you now. “Do what?”

“Hook up with sexy dancers from the strip club.”

Another smooth, this time on the cheek. “It wouldn’t matter to me even if you did.”

You cuddle with each other for a while longer, reluctant to let go. Begrudgingly, you break away from him to check the time. “I should probably head back now.”

He nods. “Can I walk you there?”

“Sure.”

It’s a short trip back to the hotel, so you take your time, walking slowly, fingers laced together. “Is it a long flight home for you tomorrow?” he asks.

“We all actually live close-by, so we drove here together.”

He stops, pausing to look at you carefully. “You live around here?”

“Yes. And I work here in the city.”

His lips parts, sputtering nonsense before he responds, “I thought I’d have to say goodbye to you tonight.”

“Do you not want to?”

“No, I don’t. I’d like to see you again if that’s okay with you.”

You lean into him. “I’d like that too. I don’t go around giving my breadsticks to anyone, you know. Only the special ones.”

He chuckles, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, pulling you in close. “And I don’t go around giving my breadstick to just about anyone either.”

“Oh no,” you laugh, hiding your face. “Don’t tell me these are the kind of jokes you make.”

“Unfortunately, it is. And now, you’re stuck with them.”

You hug him around the waist, gazing at him lovingly. “Lucky me.”

He smiles at you. “Me too.”

#nanami smut #nanami x you #nanami x reader #kento nanami #nanami #nanami kento #kento nanami smut #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami x you #nanami kento smut #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento fluff #kento nanami fluff #nanami fluff #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #y2k karaoke party #milestone event

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toxicanonymity · 2 years ago

Text

The Barbecue. Silence can never be bought, only rented (pt. 5 of 6)

5k / dbf!Joel x f!Reader, 18+ / pt 1 / master list

The long-awaited HOG (hot old guy) barbecue. Joel watches in the reflection of the window as you get out of the pool and grab a towel. You follow him inside. "Don't tell me that made you jealous," you say. "Turned me on," he responds, and you can tell.

NEXT: part 6 / Story Master List

WARNINGS/NOTES: NSFW 18+ dry humping, vaginal fingering, jacking off, brief oral (M receiving), semi-public-ish, swallowing, alcohol, irresponsible cook-out behavior, DON'T DRINK AND DRIVE, some angst, reader wears Joel's shirt, lack of PIV, blue balls. Do not read the dad as your actual dad!

Tags - This story: @jbcalway @daddy-din @angelmenace @silkiers @axshadows @legs0pen4dilfs @fan-fiction-floozy @grnherbs @icuminurbutt @lokanda @not-a-unique-snowflakewflake89 @likeanimagepassingby2 @witchy-jadda @mxtokko @missannwinchester @cannolighost @anxiousankylosaurus @montenegroisr @97cityy @lillyrob @billyloomiswhore4 @cloudroomblog @boysddontcry @blackvelveteen1339 @twsssmlmaa @call-me-doll-facee @str84pedro

All Joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea. @evyiione. ty @dark-scape for the support as usual.

Lmk if i missed you. Idk why some are buggy.

You don’t hear from Joel for days. The first day, you’re a mess of feelings, pinballing between numb and smitten.

You feel like you don't really know anyone in your life. The people you thought were closest are perfect strangers. You don't trust anyone. Your roommate is spending all her time with that friend of Chad’s. Your friend from home is on a trip overseas and won’t be back until the day after Independence Day. You feel like you don’t have anyone to hang out with, talk to, or even sit in silence with. You’re lonely and pensive.

On the other end of the spectrum, your mind (and body) frequently drift to that long-awaited kiss, and everything that happened in that hotel suite. You almost feel like if you can sleep with Joel, everything will be right in the world, even when it’s all wrong. Even when he’s part of what’s wrong. You know it’s illogical.

One afternoon, for a change of scenery, you go to the bookstore with the cafe where you work. Maybe you’re clinging to the last bit of familiarity that’s left. On the bulletin board at the entrance, there’s a flyer for Chad's band playing at your favorite spot. That must be why he originally came by the cafe the other day.

While you’re in the middle of the bookstore, you get a text from Joel and your face burns when you open it. It’s a disappearing dick pic. Not just his dick. It’s a blow job POV including his dick. “Your souvenir,” he says, like that’s all that happened. Your blood boils but also rushes to your loins.

That’s all he has to say to you? You respond, “really?” He’s trying to act like that whole car ride never happened.

“Wanna talk about it?” he responds. It’s nice that he offers, and your heart probably swells a little too much at the basic decency, but you’re actually not sure you want to talk about it. You’re almost afraid to find out more. You already wish you could rewind and live in blissful ignorance.

After an exhausting day of stewing and sulking, you decide to go to Chad’s show. It feels pathetic, but who cares? The way you see it, you don’t have anything to lose. Chad can’t hurt you anymore. It’s hard to imagine anyone who could. You text Chad to let him know you’re coming. He doesn’t text you back.

When you get to the venue, you don’t see anyone you know, at first. There’s still another band to play before them, so they should be hanging out near the merch table and you make your way over there. Finally, you see their drummer behind the cash box, then you see Chad’s hair from the back. The drummer says something to Chad, then Chad looks over at you. Your stomach turns when you see his face. You can only see half of it, but there’s a gauze bandage across his eyebrow and upper cheekbone. His mouth is scabbed over. Joel. Chad makes himself scarce as soon as he sees you.

You finally respond to Joel, “not really.” And that’s that. But you don’t know how you’re going to face him or your dad when you go home for the holiday.

On Independence Day, you’re so anxious that you drive right past the turn onto Joel’s street. You don’t forget, you just decide not to turn. You go to your friend’s house, even though you know she isn’t there. It’s a familiar place to park your car and try to calm yourself down. You sit there for almost an hour doing nothing but scrolling tumblr and listening to music.

When you don’t arrive at the barbecue, your dad and Joel separately call you and you don’t answer either of them. Based on your degree of dread with each respective call, you realize your dad is the one you least want to see. You’re not really harboring much negativity toward Joel at this point.

Frank texts you and you finally take a deep breath and decide to show up. Your plan is to detach as much as possible and let yourself leave as soon as you’re uncomfortable.

You pull up to Joel’s house wearing a bikini and the flannel with a change of clothes in your Billy Loomis tote. Pretty much everyone is already at Joel’s house. Tommy and Maria, Bill and Frank, your dad and stepmother, a couple of Joel’s neighbors, and two of your dad’s work friends, rounding out the requisite hot old guys (HOGs), according to your friend, at least. One of the HOGs, Steve, always looks at you like a piece of meat. You used to think he was just an old creep, but now he strikes you as a bit of a DILF.

A light breeze carries the smell of propane and pork butt as you approach the pool gate. Only Frank is in the pool. You’ll probably hang out with him the whole time. Joel is at the grill in swim trunks and t-shirt, talking to one of your father’s work friends. He doesn't even look up when you open the gate. His swim trunks sure do show a lot of thigh.

Your stepmother is all over your dad. You pry him off with a hug out of spite and to face your fears. Then, you go to the grill and hug Joel from the side. It’s way too hot to stand there long.

“There she is,” Tommy announces on the other side of the grill. He’s talking to a guy you don’t recognize who turns around and does a double-take.

“This is Jesse, he works with your dad.”

He extends his hand and says “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Hmm, that sounds ominous." You can imagine being very attracted to Jesse even a week ago, but suddenly you don't have interest in anyone under 40.

"Well I heard you like to swim, at least. I didn't wanna swim alone," Jesse says.

Frank has a tray at the side of the pool with a glass of wine and his phone on it. He puts his glass of wine down when you walk up.

"Thank God, I've been drinking by myself," he says.

"And what kind of pairing is this for your pork butt?" you tease him as you sit down on the edge and put your feet in. Bill just barely raises his glass to wave at you. He's sitting alone under the shade of an umbrella, wearing khakis and a button-down shirt.

"Hey I think I have this shirt," Frank says, and takes the flannel between his thumb and finger. He studies it contemplatively for a moment. You catch up with Frank for a while.

You call over to the grill, "Joel are you gonna swim?"

"I'm on butt duty," he says.

Frank gives you an inquisitive look then asks if you're gonna get in.

You put your stuff down on a chair, take the shirt off, and start applying sunscreen. Joel watches as you rub it into your bikini top. Then you turn around to give him a side view as you rub it into the part of your butt cheeks hanging out of the bottoms.

Jesse moseys over within seconds and takes off his shirt. And well, damn. When Jesse raises his eyebrows at you, you realize you've been staring while lazily reaching over your shoulder and applying sunscreen. You were really just looking at his tattoos. Mostly.

“Nice ink,” you say.

"Need a hand?" He asks. Why not? You hand Jesse the sunscreen and watch his face as he squirts some into his palm. He bites his lip.

You turn around facing the pool – facing Joel – and stretch out one leg in front of you, keeping the other bent, while Jesse rubs lotion into your back. He doesn’t do it in an erotic way, but you curl your toes and subtly bite your lip as though it is. You let your legs fall open a bit.

You lower yourself into the pool and have small talk with Jesse for a minute, then Joel says your real name for once and it makes your eyes go wide. He doesn't say it that loud but you still hear him from across the pool. "Gimme a hand?" He asks.

Jesse stays in the pool and awkwardly makes small talk with Frank.

Joel watches in the reflection of his big living room windows as you lift yourself out of the pool and get a towel. You follow him inside to the small, secondary kitchen and he closes the door behind you..

He pins you up against the counter, already aroused, and further hardens against your wet swimsuit, flooding you with desire from your core to your chest.

"Havin' fun?" He growls in your ear.

"Don't tell me that made you jealous."

"Turned me on," he says, low and horny.

He kisses your chin, then your neck. Your hands wrap around him and grab his ass, pulling him into you harder with your own soft grunt.

He slips his hand under the damp cup of your bikini top, his fingers curving around the side of your breast, thumb resting at your cleavage. His warm palm pushes your cold, hard nipple as he firmly cradles your breast, his hand applying slow pressure in rhythm with his hips. Your knees are weak. You're dripping, not just from the pool.

He wraps his arms around you and slides his warm hands into the sides of your swimsuit bottom, grabbing hold of your cold ass cheeks. He groans, "God almighty.”

He kneads your ass, pulling you into him and his rock-hard length. He kisses your neck and grinds himself into you. The feeling of his warm, thick rod slowly rutting against your clit drives you mad. You couldn’t get any wetter. If you don't have this man inside you soon, you might actually die. You reach into his shorts and use your other hand to try to take them down. He doesn't stop you.

But there’s a knock at the door. Good Lord. You know who it's going to be.

Joel puts his dick away and removes a big pan of coleslaw from the fridge. He hands you the coleslaw while you open the door.

"Am I interrupting anything?" She asks.

"No," You say, then cock your head and add "Am I?" You hold eye contact for several seconds, then hand her the cole slaw and ask, "don't you and Dad have some catching up to do?"

Your stepmother takes the coleslaw outside.

You close the door behind her. “Basement?,” you ask, and start toward the pantry at the back of the space. There’s a hidden staircase that opens into the movie theater downstairs.

Joel groans and rubs his beard. “Later,” Joel says with a sigh. “We better go back out.”

You scoff. “Really?”

“Go on back outside.” He opens the door to the main kitchen.

When you get back to the pool, Jesse's already gone, talking to your dad. When you get back in, Frank says, "You little minx." He's got Instagram pulled up on his phone and shows you a picture from several years ago of Joel and him together, both wearing the shirt you arrived in. "Tell me everything."

Your face gets hot. “Seems to be a popular shirt,” you say.

"No," Frank says. "Shirt's just the kicker. There's something about the way you say each other's names. They sound like a secret." Frank is good at reading people.

"What, you think I fucked him? I didn't." At least you don't have to lie about that.

"Maybe not yet," he scoffs. Frank looks behind you and covers his mouth, then says “Look at his shirt." Yeah, Joel’s shirt has just the right wet spots. In theory, they could've been from a hug. It basically was a hug.

"Ever heard of a hug?" you say.

Frank raises his eyebrows then holds up his glass of wine and "accidentally" clinks his wedding ring on it before downing the rest. Bill hears it and comes over with the bottle. Frank gives him a look with the slightest nod across the pool, like he can't even wait a couple hours to share his new gossip. Bill's eyes dart over to Joel, then meet Frank's eyes again. As usual, no reaction is visible on Bill's face, aside from a twinkle in his eye. "Everything to your liking, sir?" he asks Frank.

Frank smiles, "Come on, at least dip your feet," but Bill leaves. Just as well, Frank's not done prodding you.

"It's okay, you don't have to tell me," Frank shrugs. "But I know you want to. . . and my lips are sealed. . ."

Frank is one of the most trustworthy people you know, so you don't worry about him spilling it. You just don’t feel like saying it out loud and putting words to it. Once it exists in the air, it’s something that can be broken. Something that can fall apart.

You panic and tell Frank about Joel and your stepmother instead. You claim you're just keeping Joel close for now while you decide what to do. You leave out any details about what close means.

The initial look on his face is horror, then Frank looks like he's going to cry. "Are you okay?"

"Chill," you say, looking around nervously. "Jesus, how much wine have you had?"

"Sorry, I just. I'm sorry. I know it's hard. That's all." He hugs you, and over Frank’s shoulder, you see Joel looking across the pool with his brow furrowed even more than usual.

"Well, don't forget my dad cheated on my mom with her, so, whatever," you say.

"Well, exactly. That's why I worry-"

Your face tells him to stop, so he changes the subject. "So what about that guy from the band, is that still a thing?"

You sigh. "Chad? No. Nothing juicy, just no."

"Got it," he says and you know you can trust him not to bring it up again. He follows your eyes back to Joel. You’re not off the hook, but at least you don’t have to talk about it.

The actual meal is relatively uneventful. It’s hard to be around your father right now. Deep down, you knew there were secrets. You knew he wasn’t the most upstanding man. You never fully trusted him after what he did to your mom. But at this point, he feels like a stranger. You’re almost glad his wife is cheating on him.

Steve, the hotter of your dad’s non-Joel friends, tries hitting on you. Asks if you like to party. Says he bets you get pretty wild after a few drinks. Pressures you to do shots with him. Why not, you think. You do one shot, but make Joel join in.

“Bad fuckin’ influence over here,” Joel says and gives Steve a slap on the back. Steve tries to egg you on to do more, but you don’t and neither does Joel.

"That's why we call him Mr. One Shot," Jesse says. laughing at his own joke.

Joel bristles at the nickname and crosses his arms, jamming his hands under his ungodly biceps.

Steve lowers his voice and asks Joel, "How many shots in Uvalde?" Joel doesn’t answer.

"One," Jesse says. "Miller’s too modest, you're embarrassing him," he laughs.

Joel tenses. "Give it a rest, Jesse. Have some discretion."

Jesse looks at your end of the table and swallows. “Right”

Your stepmother abruptly changes the subject. She asks Jesse how old he is and why she hasn’t seen him before. She’s drunk, and every time she looks at Jesse, she looks like she could eat him alive.

Your dad elbows Jesse. “I think my wife likes you,” he says with a wink. It’s awkward.

Joel’s face is a little pink from the sun, and it looks good on him. He’s looking at your face, but not making eye contact. He seems to be in a trance. You kind of feel like you should still be mad at him, but for some reason, you��re not. And you’re not going to deprive yourself out of spite. You can feel Frank noticing every detail of this.

Bill pours the last of a bottle of wine, and you volunteer to go to the wine cellar. Bill says they’ve had enough. Frank protests that he wants one more glass. He asks you for a German Riesling, with a wink. You subtly shake your head at him, falsely denying what he knows you’re up to.

You stand in the wine cellar, enjoying the cool air, then sit on a cabinet that spans the whole back wall. It’s only a few minutes before you hear Joel’s flip flops echoing down the stairs, presumably with the pretext of helping you find the wine. He crosses the cellar without even glancing at the wine. “Leavin’ for the fireworks in 15,” he says.

He has that horny look in his eyes and there’s already a bulge in his swim trunks. The way his t-shirt stretches over his pecs and arms — God damn.

When Joel reaches you, his massive hands part your knees, then lightly stroke your bare thighs. His lips brush your temple as he says, “You’re gonna get me in trouble one of these days.”

“That’s the idea,” you say as his hands wrap around your back and he slides you closer to the edge of the cabinet. When your crotch comes to rest against his, an acute desire floods your breasts. You squeeze his sides with your thighs, then roll your hips into his arousal and hook your hands under his arms, bringing him closer.

You slide your hands down his back and into his swim trunks, feeling his ass and bringing the trunks down. At the same time, you pull his hips into you and the swell of his hard-on against your clit makes you throb with need. You start to untie your bikini bottoms while he gropes a breast.

His mouth latches onto your neck. You let the front of the bottoms fall between your thighs, and tilt your hips in just the right way. He brings a hand between your legs and drags his flattened fingers up and down your slippery seam, then thrusts two of them inside and you moan.

“Fuuck,” he breathes.

You grab his cock. “Come on,” you beg as you tug him. He takes his hard length from you, holds it in his hand, and furrows his brow as he pumps his fingers slowly in and out of you. You try to read his face. He breathes heavily as he fingers you.

“Fuck me already,” you beg.

He looks down at himself and shakes his head no, but looks pained by his own answer.

“We both know it’s gonna happen,” you say.

He takes a deep breath as though to restrain himself. “Maybe so, but not tonight.”

He removes his fingers and brings the tip of his cock to your dripping entrance. A bolt of need shoots through you. He dwells there for a moment, takes another deep breath, then lays his stiff manhood vertically against your seam and pulls you tight against him. Then he grinds wetly against your aching clit, and your hips roll into him. Your head falls back and you moan. Your eyes are watery.

“God, Joel. . .this is . . .so dumb. . . just fu-”

You cut yourself off with a moan as he quickens his pace and grunts.

“Pleeease.”

“Shhhhhhh,” he says. You’re on the verge of coming and on the verge of tears. He holds you tight for leverage then goes jackhammer pace.

“Joel. . .”

“Come for me, sugar,” he pants. And not long after, you do. You clench around nothing, pulse against him, and you hear the echo of a breathy “Joel” you didn’t know you said.

He takes his cock in his hand again and looks at you with his pupils blown wide. His breath is ragged as he strokes himself. You find yourself slipping down off the cabinet. He doesn’t deserve what you’re about to do, you just want it for yourself, for whatever reason. He steps back and you squat down to face level with his cock. You hover your mouth over it, then wrap your lips around the head, and he comes with an echoing groan before you take any of the shaft into your mouth. His cum even tastes unattainable. Your eyes sting.

You fix your swimsuit and compose yourself.

“C’mere,” he says and hugs you. You don't really hug him back. You wipe a tear off your cheek. He tries to kiss you, but you’re too upset, and it would make you need him even worse than you already do.

Joel’s phone rings and he picks it up. “We’re comin’,” he says. “C’mon, let’s go.” He puts his arm around you but your demeanor doesn’t soften. You’ve had it with him depriving you.

“Ya know, maybe it’s a good night to talk to my dad,” you threaten as you near the top of the stairs.

“Damn, Trouble.” You can't tell if he’s impressed or judging you. “I said not tonight. I didn’t say never.”

That makes you think twice, at which point you realize what you just did. . .You tried to blackmail Joel for sex.

He adjusts his shorts. God, what’s become of this situation in just a few days - you try to put it out of your mind. You can beat yourself up over it later.

Joel stops you with his hand on yours before you open the door. “Look,” he continues. “Before you do anything stupid, there’s somethin’ I should tell you later.”

You lean against the wall and cross your arms. “Lemme guess, you and Dad are up to some shady, dangerous shit.”

“Nothin’ to do with that,” Joel says, lowering his voice.

“So you are.”

“Dangerous, yes, shady, no. We’re the good guys. Less you know ‘bout that, the better.”

“Why?”

“For your safety.”

You open the door to the living room and people are milling around deciding who’s riding with whom to the fireworks. Frank says, “hey, she didn’t get bricked in,” and hands you your bag from outside so you can change.

You and Joel ride with Bill and Frank to the fireworks. Frank keeps looking back and making small talk, but you and Joel mostly look out your opposite windows. You get to thinking about what Joel said. Not tonight. . . I didn’t say never. . . If he means that, maybe it’s worth the wait. Maybe you should hear him out, whatever he has to tell you.

During the fireworks, you come around a little. Joel playfully covers your ears, knowing you’ve always hated loud noises. When Bill and Frank drop you off at Joel’s afterwards, everyone is going their separate ways. You're relieved to see your dad and stepmother drive off before you have to say goodbye.

You start to go to your car, wanting to quit while you're ahead and not end up begging for it again. Joel stops you with gentle hands on your shoulders.

"Come in for a minute. Let's talk." A pit opens in your stomach.

The two of you go in through the pool gate. “Lemme make you a drink,” he says. That sounds even worse.

. . .

Joel hands you your favorite cocktail, then comes around the bar with his own drink to sit on the stool next to you. He takes a deep breath and puts his hand on your knee. He seems almost as nervous as you are. You can't remember seeing him nervous before.

“Yeah?” you prompt him.

He nods and takes a sip of his drink, then looks you in the eye. He puts his glass down, then takes yours out of your hand and puts it down on the counter too.

He swivels you toward each other. He looks like he's about to say something, then something changes in his eyes. He cradles your head with both hands, lays his lips into yours, and kisses you slow and hard, his tongue dipping into your mouth.

After a few seconds, you don’t even notice the taste of his whiskey, and his hands trace your body on their way down to your thighs. It’s intense but tender. You can’t help but feel like it’s some kind of a kiss goodbye. It scares you. He slides off the stool and gets in between your knees, tries to put your legs around him again, and that’s certainly where your legs want to go. But you want to hear what he has to say first.

You pull away and your hand drifts up to your lips. They buzz from his fervor. Your chest rises and falls.

“Spit it out,” you tell him.

“Right," he says. "I dunno if you’re still gonna wanna. . .” He downs his drink. It’s hard for you to imagine anything that would make you not want to fuck him anymore.

Finally, he begins. "Alright. . . ‘member what I said at lunch the other day, 'bout how monogamy isn’t for everyone?"

"Yeah." If this is all to say it’s not for him, it’s not hitting like much of a bombshell. Now, if he's going to tell you about other people he's fucking–when he's not even fucking you—that's a different story.

"Well," he clears his throat and looks away. "Your dad-"

You interrupt him with a loud sigh. "Just because he cheats doesn't mean you can sleep with his wife." You’re annoyed he’s even going there.

Joel holds up his hands as though to tell you to slow down. "Lemme finish. 'member what I said, how even in a marriage, some couples. . . ." He tries to make you fill in the blanks for yourself, but you won't. "Okay,” he shifts in his seat and begins to gesticulate vaguely. “Your dad and stepmother, they have an arrangement."

You feel the blood drain from your face. You think about the way she was eyeing Jesse. "Gross," you say.

He swallows and nods regretfully as you process this. He waits patiently as your heart races along with your thoughts, then you spill them out all at once. "I dunno why I would believe you. OR why you would believe her. Is that what she told you?” You laugh. “Whatever. Even if it's true, you aren't just any guy-"

"He knows," Joel says almost somberly. “About me.”

"Oh, he knows?" you laugh. He couldn't possibly. This is a terrible attempt at defusing the whole situation for himself. And yet, he looks like he feels bad for you.

"The first time, he talked me into it."

Deep breaths. "That's insane. That's. . .this is your new plan? Try to convince me my dad is some perverted cuckold?"

"No, not like that." He shivers in disgust. "Damn, Trouble. That's where your head went? No. . . when he. . .it was like. . . a swap.”

Your stomach turns.

“Okay, remember my date to Bill and Frank's wedding? The stripper?” Your heart sinks. “Your dad, um, really liked her, and-"

"I get the picture," you say, closing your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose, recalling that your dad did in fact really like Joel's date. It was embarrassing.

"It was casual with me and. Shit, what was her name. Anyway, we were all stayin' in that hotel gettin' sloshed at the pool, an-"

You open your eyes and say, "Yeah, I got it, okay?" Then, you walk over to the sofa to sit down. He follows you. You feel sick to your stomach and don't want to hear another word about it. You cross your arms and slouch, sitting in silence for a moment.

He hesitantly puts his hand on your knee, sending a rush of blood to your loins. You don’t know what to feel.

"Did you really end it with her?" You ask.

He sighs. "More or less."

Now rage starts simmering in your chest.

"Told her I wanted a break.”

Unbelievable.

“That just — it lessens the blow. But trust me, I'm not doin' it again. Especially after how she’s been actin’."

You wish you could believe him.

You ask, "Why'd you let me think it was some huge secret?"

He's quiet for a moment.

"I don’t think your dad would appreciate you knowin’ about it," he says. "But I was gonna tell you anyway."

“Yeah, right.”

“‘Yeah. . . ‘member all those calls you ignored?”

“But then I got to thinkin’ about it, and I guess. . . .”

"What?”

"I," he pauses and sighs. "Shit, I dunno, it was hot. Really hot. The way you acted, thinkin' you had somethin' over me. . .never saw that side of you before."

Now this you can believe.

"Next day, still thought about tellin’ ya. But after the pool, there was no goin’ back. I mean, damn."

There’s a sparkle in his eye as he reflects on that. He adjusts himself, which always makes you tingle, even now. Especially now? God, you have no idea.

"Guess it kinda did somethin' to me,” he says. He raises his eyebrows and gives your thigh a rub, but you flinch. It isn’t personal, you’re just on edge, but his eyes get sad and he takes his hand away, resting it in his lap as he sits back lazily on the couch.

You ask, "So why tell me now?"

"I dunno, maybe I'm growin' a conscience."

You try to make sense of that, but you can’t. Why would he feel guilty about you doing something as depraved as blackmailing him into sex?

"Woulda been hot as hell though. Maybe I shoulda let ya go through with it. Damn.”

It sounds like everything is up to him, and apparently, it is.

He hesitantly rests his hand on your back and slowly rubs it. You take a deep breath and sigh audibly. You’re melting under his fingertips.

He lowers his voice, “So, now that you know everything . . .”

His phone buzzes. When he looks at it, he tenses and sharply inhales.

“Your dad’s here,” he says.

And your car is still parked outside in the turnaround.

Planning for the next chapter to be the last in this story. . .

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #perdo pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal smut #toxicanonymity ☠️#toxicdbf #dbf!joel #pervy!joel #dbf!joel miller #joel miller/reader #joel miller/you #bill and frank #joel jacks off #toxic dilf summer

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wedgiestoriescollective · 1 year ago

Text

The Senior: A Night in a Hotel Room

(The last Re-Upload)

Chase and I continued our interesting relationship after the events that took place after the choir concert. But the holidays are always a busy time, even during school. I had projects to complete and so did Chase, our daily routine of me giving Chase’s underwear a pull died down for a bit. I did get him a couple times. One time during a break at our choir practice, I yanked his American Eagle trunks up his butt when we were alone in the church's library. Oh man, that was so hot. His jeans were so tight that day, and he was wearing a maroon sweater.

He looked like the preppy guys I'd always jack off to that I wish I could wedgie, and here I was. wedgieing him. What made it even better was that he liked it, and I knew it.

Before the holiday break I got to wedgie him one more time. Chase had recently joined the speech team, and I was also on the team. I’d like to believe that he joined the team so that he would have more reasons to spend more time with me, but it probably was one of many reasons. He did a great job in the musical and participating in speech is like participating in judged theatre. So, the cast members and teammates encouraged him to join, so he did. As a member of the team, we were required to work the tournament that our school would host. But Chase was also very good at playing the trumpet so during the day of the tournament he wasn’t available because he earned a spot in the All-Region Band. So, he stopped by near the end of the day and his job for the day was to deliver flowers that we were going to put on the table with the trophies for the awards ceremony. He texted me to help him bring them in. I met him at the loading dock as he was pulling in. Now, the wedgie that I gave him as he was getting out of his front seat was a unique one. He got out and I somehow managed to just grab the waistband without digging for it. His Blue and Red stripped American Eagle boxer briefs went right up his ass. I tugged his leg holes past his dress pants waistband, and as the tug reached its height I said “sup”, and immediately snapped his white waistband to his back.

“Come on” he said, surprisingly annoyed with his wedgie.

“What did you expect? You asked me to help” I said.

“With the flowers?” he asked as he was walking to the trunk of his car while simultaneously picking at his underwear. At this point I'd wedgied him so often that he no longer would go out of sight to adjust himself anymore. He would just pick outright in front of me. I found that hot. It was unexpecting how hot I found that to be.

“Well, sorry I'll hold off on the wedgies, I got those”. I lifted a box of flowers and walked with him into the auditorium. We were alone as we were arranging the flowers, but since the stage was so big and the curtains were down, we had no way of knowing if anyone else was there. So, it wasn't the best time to try to give Chase another wedgie. We continued working quietly getting everything all set up.

I didn’t see Chase until after the holiday break. We texted each other though, he was very good at keeping the text conversation going. It wasn’t all about wedgies. We discussed books and movies that we were both currently reading or watching. Our families. He was very present to listen to my problems. At the time my high school theatre department were prepping auditions for that years play competition. This was the closet that theatre departments in high school got to competing with one another like sports teams do. The point of the competition was to take a play, any play and cut it down to no longer than 50 minutes. My theatre teacher took this play very seriously, taking a lot of time for us to read the play in class, analyze it and audition for roles. There were 16 people in the class and only 7 roles. There was a specific role in the play that I thought I'd be right for. The role required for the actor to be able to play a young prince who may or may not have had an affair with a prince from another country. The point of the role was that you never knew for sure if the characters were gay or not. I was obsessed with the idea of possibly getting the chance to play this role, I memorized scenes, I actively participated in discussions about the play in class. I made it obvious to my theater teacher that I really wanted the role. Being in the cast for this specific play in the theatre department basically marked you as someone who is a top actor in the school. I knew I was good, but there were a lot of other guys in the department that were older and talented too. But the other kid that was my age in the theatre class Micah, was in the competition play last year and he had the experience and could very well be cast in this role. It shouldn't have bothered me as much as it did, but Micah was the top of our class, and he participated in theatre because it was something that he could put on his college apps. His family were very devoted Christians which isn’t a problem except for the fact that he would argue that the role I wanted wasn't a homosexual. He would argue this because he knew that if he was cast in the show that it would be in that role and he clearly felt that it was against his religion, so he was trying to find a reason to be able to play it. I’d say I was straight, but I knew that I wasn’t. But this role spoke to me, especially at that time and if I got it, maybe it was the reason that I needed to give myself permission to accept myself. I really wanted that part.

The weekend that the cast list was supposed to be posted, my speech team was away at a speech tournament six hours away from home. The prelim rounds went okay on that first day and Chase and I were placed in the same hotel room for the night with twin brothers that were specifically on the debate team. So, that night after the speech kids were done with their rounds, the debate kids were going to remain there till late. The hotel room had two beds and since the twin brother debaters would obviously sleep together in one of them, I was going to sleep with Chase in the other. And not only that, I was going to get to spend a lot of time alone with Chase in a room with a bed

When Chase and I got back to the hotel room, I went ahead and took a shower. We had a long day of traveling and both Chase and I had been in suits all day. I brought my sweats and tank that I would sleep in the bathroom with me and showered. When I got out of the bathroom with my sleep clothes on there was Chase, standing at the closet in only his boxers. He was hanging up his suit, after taking everything off. Though I've wedgied Chase a lot, I had never seen him without his shirt, and staring at him from behind I immediately noticed the smoothness of his shoulders. Chase wasn't muscular in the sense that he looked like a Calvin Klein model, but he was close. His butt in those boxers were very nice as well. The boxers were navy blue, obviously American Eagle because there were multiple Eagle logos al over them. He turned around,

“Hey, my turn’ he said.

I must have not been hiding my looks of intense lustful admiration because his lips slowly curved to a smirk, and he flexed his chest and hell. He didn’t have a six pack, but his chest was hot, nonetheless. He didn’t have a lot of hair, but there was some that formed a line from the bottom of his belly button to the top the waistband of his boxers. This was the first time that my thoughts went to the possible size of his dick under those boxers. I can't remember for sure, but I was probably hard. Chase started to walk across the room.

“I know what you're thinking, don't do it” he said as he walked by me to go into the bathroom. I quickly turned around after he walked by me. He stopped walking and turned his head slightly.

"You can’t help it can you?” he said.

“I guess not” I replied as my hands slowly gripped his boxers.

I tug slowly. This was my first time giving a wedgie with the other guy not wearing pants. The more I tug the more I see Chase's ass. It was firm and the more his boxers went up his butt, the harder my dick got. I drop his boxers and gently tap both of his checks with my hands.

“Enjoy your shower" I said.

“Thanks” he said walking into the bathroom.

He stayed in there for about ten minutes. When he came out of the bathroom, he had pajama bottoms with multiple XBOX logos on it. He was still wearing the same boxers that I had just wedgied, but the only way I could tell was that he was sagging his pajama bottoms slightly. But I only had a moment to observe that because he ran at me and jumped on me on the bed.

It happened very fast. I can’t remember the specifics. But we were basically wrestling, He was the senior and he was obviously a lot stronger than me, but I gave it my all wrestling wise. He pinned me in headlocks and to the ground. He was a lot stronger. But Chase and I had different end goals. His was to pin me to the ground, mine was to pull his boxers up his butt again. I got his boxers a couple of times in the struggle, but not enough to really count the wedgies I gave him legit. But there was one moment when I ended up on the top of his back. My ass was sitting on his head, and I had to have been tea-bagging Chase as I gripped his boxers in both of my hands. I was also fully hard by that point, and there was no way that Chase didn’t know because my bulge was bulging into his shoulders. But his boxers were in my hand, and I started pulling. Pulling with all the strength possible. Chase was moaning but from pleasure or pain I couldn't tell. I successfully pull one mare strong pull and I heard a slight ripping sound. I snap his boxer’s waistband onto Chase’s back, and I roll off him.

“Fuck, man that was the best wedgie yet” Chase said standing up with his hands in his,

butt fixing his boxers. I stayed laying on the bed breathing heavily.

“Damn man, you sound like we just fucked” he laughed.

I laughed that off, at at that moment a feeling of intense shame came over me. I hadn’t cum but I was close. What did those feelings mean? Why do wedgies turn me on? How can I keep this up? It was clear after today that I had extreme lust towards Chase. After seeing his body, smacking his ass, and wedgieing him like I just had.

“Everything alright man?” Chase asked as he sat down at the front of the bed. But before I could say anything there was a knock on the door.

I went and answered the door, and it was Lexi. She was one of the strongest actresses in the theatre department. A shoo in for the lead role in the competition play. She was texted the cast list for the competition play and wanted me to see it. I didn’t get the part… or any part in the play. Micah got the part. Lexi said that she wanted me to know because she didn’t want me to have to wait until Monday to see the cast list myself, but I think she wanted to tell me because she was (and still is) a world class bitch. I walked back into the room and crushed, I just started crying, I had never been more disappointed. I didn’t get the role that spoke to me and my true sexuality, and here I was crying in front of the only guy that I had ever had strong feelings for. Chase was very nice. He asked me what was wrong, and when I told him he didn't try to console me. He was just quiet as I laid down on the bed,

I must have cried myself to sleep because one moment the lights were on, and the next they were off and there was an arm around my shoulder. It was Chase's. I looked over at the other bed and saw that it was still empty. The twins weren’t back yet. I twisted my body around and there was Chase, with his eyes wide open staring at me. He said nothing and we continued just looking at one another. I wanted to kiss him, and I was positive that he wanted to kiss me. But we didn’t kiss. But what I did feel was a hand gently placing itself around my groin. Chase's hand was over my sweatpants, and he slowly put his hand into my sweats and then, into my boxer briefs. Upon impulse I reached in a removed his hand from my pants. But still staring at him. I let go of his hand. I then proceeded to stick my own, hand in my pants. I gently surrounded my dick with my fingers, and then slowly started lifting. and lowering my dick. I did this while continuing to stare at Chase. Chase decided after a couple moments that he would follow suit. He lifted the covers and stuck his hand in his boxers. We continued touching ourselves while still looking at one another. This was a new experience for me, jerking off with someone else in the room. I found it to be a very exhilarating experience. Someone else looking at me and jerking off too. I couldn't see his dick, and he couldn't see mine. That seemed to make it even hotter. We tried to keep rhythm with each other. I don’t know how long we did this, but I do remember that we didn’t climax at the same time. Chase came first, and I followed about ten seconds after. There were no words spoken during or after except for our moans. After we were done, we put the covers back on and just laid back down in bed together. I started crying again, but it was weird. There was so much sadness in my tears, but also a little comfort in the fact that in that singular moment that I was not alone. I cried gently but was surprised to feel Chase's arms wrap around my body, holding me tightly. We laid there spooned into each other. He was there holding me tightly not letting me go as slowly drifted off to sleep.

I think back to this night often. We were both in the closet at the time, and we were both not ready to admit to ourselves that we had these strong feelings. We just had this strong night together. if we were able to let ourselves be open to each other that night, maybe we would have gone farther in our sexual explorations. I did wish I kissed him that night. I wished that I let him touch me, blow me. I wish I could have seen his whole naked body, and that he could see mine. That night was more than just a wedgie fetish. But regardless, I am still grateful to what we did that night because it was a part of my story, and it was truly one of those moments when I realized that I could be attractive, that I could be desired, and that I won't always have to be alone.

#gay wedgie #wedgie nerd #gay #gay men

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cxrrodedcoffin · 7 months ago

Text

Hair Lockets - Spencer Reid

Likes are always appreciated but reblogs and feedback keep artists going!

——

“Cut with dull scissors and tied with a ribbon, curated under the glass of my pendant”

Summary: BAU!Reader asks Spencer for a lock of his hair after a near miss and a visit to the museum.

Word Count: 1.1K, not proofread oops ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

A/N: i’m overly sentimental and a sucker for ephemera of all kinds, including the old school tradition of keeping a lock of your lover’s hair so that’s exactly what this is. also kind of an explanation for jesus reid cutting his hair? titled after and inspired by the song hair lockets by nicole dollanganger <3

if you want to learn more about the history of the art mentioned in this fic, this article is super informative!

TW: kissing, gunshot mention, mild anxiety, i think that’s it?

Rating: PG, this is all fluff baybee :)

——

When Spencer proposed the two of you visit the local art history museum on your last day in the midwestern town the latest case had brought the team to, you hesitantly agreed, though the idea of relaxing in your hotel room until your flight the next morning seemed much more appealing after the traumatic nature of the events surrounding this particular case.

Spencer had another near miss with an unsub and from the moment the bullet hit his vest your heart felt like it would tear itself apart. This man that only a year ago had been just your nerdy, know it all coworker now felt like a part of you, and the idea of losing him was almost too much to bear. He walked away with only a deep bruise, but you couldn’t help but cry yourself to sleep that night at the thought of what the alternative could have been.

Now, almost a week later, as you anxiously wait for him to get back from the class he had today, you think back to that museum trip.

The thought had embedded itself in your brain from the moment you laid eyes on the most unique piece of art you’d seen - a victorian era hair sculpture. The concept of having a piece of your loved one, something their very body had curated, with you forever touched you deeply. That is what you wanted, a piece of your lover to hold over your heart whenever you are apart.

You heard the key turn in the door, your heart thumping in your chest as you watch Spencer walk through the doorway.

“Hello my love.” He coos, giving you a tired smile.

“Hey Spence.” You reply, walking toward him, hoping he wouldn’t see the way your hands tremble.

There was no hiding your nerves though, Spencer could read you like a book. He takes your hand in his as he slips off his shoes, guiding you to the couch.

“Is something wrong?” He questions, concern lacing his gaze as he looks over your features.

“No no, I’m okay Spence, I promise. I just have something I want to ask you.” You stumble over your words, unsure if it’s worth asking at this point.

“What is it? You know you can ask me anything.” He reassures.

“You can say no, I don’t want you to feel pressured.” You waver, unable to hold eye contact any longer.

He nods, his thumb gently rubbing the back of your hand.

“I was wondering if you would be willing to let me cut a small lock of your hair, t-to keep in my locket so you’re always with me. I know it’s weird but that sculpture we saw at the museum just stuck with me.” You ramble, your gaze fixed on your lap.

Spencer slips his fingers under your chin, gently raising your head to look you in the eyes.

“You know, keeping locks of hair is actually a practice that dates back centuries, even before the victorian era. It was common for families to use locks of hair from one or many family members to weave intricate sculptures as a mourning ritual in some cultures and to create family heirlooms in others. In recent time, during wartime it was common practice for soldiers to present a lock of their hair to their lovers as a forget-me-not. The sentiment is a sign of love, I’m honored you want to keep a piece of me with you.” His voice is calm, unwavering, somehow knowing exactly what to say to calm your nerves.

He squeezes your hand one last time, standing and telling you to stay where you are before disappearing into the next room.

A moment later he comes back, scissors and spool of ribbon in hand. He hands you the items before sitting cross-legged on the couch, turning to face you.

“Take whatever your heart desires.” He smiles, shaking his hair out.

“You know I could just chop off a giant chunk of hair, you’re putting a lot of faith in me right now.” You giggle, jokingly holding the scissors higher than you intend to cut.

“Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing, Morgan called be Jesus the other day.” He sighs.

“How about I take you to a barber after this, I don’t want you to end up bald if I make the wrong move.” You joke.

“It’s a deal.” He nods, smiling at you once more.

You choose a piece behind his ear, tying it off with the ribbon before snipping off an inch. You hold it for a second, feeling the soft locks against your palm.

It’s quiet as Spencer observes you. He’s never seen you so sentimental before, but he’s surprisingly comfortable with it. You’re unlike anyone he’s ever known, so strong willed yet full of boundless love for those who are important to you.

You place the lock inside the locket around your neck, rubbing the cold metal between your fingertips for a moment.

You look up at Spencer before leaning in to gently kiss him on the cheek.

“Thank you.” You sigh.

“Of course angel.” He responds, turning your face to give you a proper kiss.

After a moment you smile against his lips, pulling away to pull him off the couch.

“Time for a haircut, Jesus. Oops, I mean genius.” You laugh, headed towards the door.

“Not too short though, I like when you run your fingers through it.” He smirks, making you blush.

You can’t help but hope you’ll get to grow old and grey with him and have the privilege to look back on this day in the future and know you’ll always hold a piece of Spencer Reid with you forever.

——

“Pretty strands that grew in your youth, pieces that I’ll always hold on to.”

——

Taglist: DM me or send me an ask if you’d like to be added to my taglist :)

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #mine #my writing #matthew gray gubler #mgg #nicole dollanganger #hair lockets #jesus reid

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yayakoishii · 1 year ago

Note

Hello love! I saw your post asking for Sanji requests and as a die hard lover of both the anime and live action Sanji, I'll happily provide.

The crew ends up docking at a random island to rest and stay a bit on solid ground. When looking for a place to stay/eat they come across the readers restraunt. Just as they're about to walk in a customer gets thrown out the front door with the reader angrily yelling about manners and how to treat people respectfully.

The readers a cook, a little short tempered, loud, and unapologetically themselves and Sanji instantly falls in love.

Alright alright I'm done now ~ 🍄🐛💫

Respect | Sanji x Reader

Fandom: One Piece

Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji × Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Genre: Fluff??

A/n: Hey there anon!! I'm super late, but I hope you're still around to see this <3 tbh, this isn't my best work and I feel like it got a little ooc and derailed a bit towards the end but I hope you enjoy it! for all my short temper, I have no idea how to write an angry little gremlin lol.

To everyone else, thank you for the 100 followers and all the likes and comments!! This is insane tbh, I wasn't expecting anything on any of my works 😭 Y'all are too kind ❤️

also available on ao3!

The island they had docked on wasn't all that big, but the people there were lively. There weren't many hotels they could find since the town wasn't all that big, and any that they found were already filled to the brim. Finally after walking around for a while, they found a small tavern quite a ways from the shore. It seemed to be a little lively because there were sounds coming from the inside but it seemed to not be so full that they couldn't grab a table.

As they neared the door of the establishment, it suddenly banged open and two men fell through, looking a little roughed up and angry. The crew lingered at a distance, wondering what was going on when you came out, your chef's hat perfectly atop your head, with your hands on your hips.

"I better not see you around here ever again!" You snapped at the two, who flinched ever so slightly. "If you lack manners, that's YOUR problem. You can't take it out on my girls and expect me to treat you like the valued customers you are not."

The two sat up and glared at you, ready to retort but you raised the pan in your hand, waving it in front of their faces.

"Scram, unless you want me to burn your face," you finished calmly. That was enough. The two immediately scrambled up and ran into the distance. You huffed and blew away the lock of hair that had slipped out of your hat. You were about to turn around and go back in when you noticed the group standing there. "What?"

"Oh, um, we were looking for a place to eat?" Chopper felt the need to answer because you were staring at him. (You were a little curious and didn't mean to stare but that was hard when the group was full of… unique characters.)

"Well, a table just got empty so help yourself in," you grumbled, jerking your thumb to beckon them inside. The crew silently followed you in, to find that your tavern was mostly full too but the people were more calm and the ruckus of the other hotels was missing. "Oh yeah. Before you settle in, you should know the one rule of my establishment."

You narrowed your eyes at them. "You treat any of my girls with anything less than respect and you'll be thrown out like those two. Capisce?"

The crew just nodded, too hungry to actually bother with anything else but Sanji couldn't help but find you absolutely charming. It was common to find people who bent and let their customers do whatever for the sake of business, but you were protective of your employees and you didn't care about being a fake sort of nice. He watched you stalk back to where the food was being cooked, responding nicely to the customers asking if all was good. You were nice where it mattered, and unapologetically yourself if your values were threatened. It was all too easy to find you like a breath of fresh air.

That wasn't even what did it, though. For Sanji, what did it was the moment one of your waitresses had come back with the food they had ordered and he had tasted the dish he had watched you prepare with the ease and expertise of someone who clearly loved and lived for their profession. One bite and he nearly moaned there, masking it under a hum of appreciation.

Even Luffy was looking at the food star eyed and his speed in sucking up the food somehow increased. Sanji tried to not do the same, wanting to savour the taste as long as he could but it was clear that if he took too long, Luffy would have finished it all by then.

The hotel was nearly empty by the time they were done and they were one of the only customers still remaining. Sanji was sure it was dark enough outside that they would need light to make their way back to the ship. You were finishing off, calling out orders for the girls who were starting to clear up. You caught his eye and Sanji couldn't look away, mesmerised by the sight of you removing your hat and shaking your hair free. You were gorgeous, a good cook, and had the personality of a firework. He had to do something–

"Let's take her with us!" Luffy announced suddenly, banging his hand on the table. Everyone startled and Sanji stared at him as if he has grown two heads.

"Uh Luffy, that's kidnapping–" Nami's words died out the moment she noticed you walking up to their table.

"Hey there," you gave them all a small smile. "Will you guys be needing anything else or should I draw up the bill? I'm afraid it's getting close to closing time."

"Come with us!!" Luffy grinned. You paused and looked at him weirdly.

"Sorry?" You said.

"What he means, mademoiselle," Sanji intervened, giving you the most charming smile he had, "is that your food was absolutely delicious. Our captain would like to have you onboard as a chef."

You were silent, staring at them all with a blank look, until you finally looked at Sanji. Your gaze made him putty but he tried to remain firm.

"You don't have a cook or something?" You smiled, a little amused.

"Sanji is the cook!" Luffy answered, pointing a finger at the blonde man, who was too busy giving you googly eyes to answer. You cocked an eyebrow at that, looking at the said man.

"And you don't mind another chef invading your territory?" You asked, curious. The crew didn't seem to be more than the people in your hotel. There really didn't seem to be any need for an extra chef to you; and anyway, you were happy with your little hole in the wall place. You were just asking because you were curious, not because you actually planned to join them.

"If it's you, you can invade any space of mine, my lady," Sanji's eyes had turned into hearts as he uttered the words. Nami whacked him on the head, worried he would freak you out but that earned him a loud laugh from you.

"You're funny," you grinned, looking back at Luffy with an apologetic smile. "Unfortunately, I'm happy where I am. Thanks for the offer but I can't. Now, are you gonna pay up or…?"

Luffy looked like he was going to protest but Usopp held him back. Nami grumbled as she pulled out the pouch of money to pay off their bill and yet all Sanji could think of was begging you to join them. He didn't need another person to cook; he was quite enough. But you, with all your loud beauty, were like a sparkling gem he would never find again. He wanted to have you, to know you, to know all your little quirks and interests. He wanted to cook beside you and fall in love– with cooking and with you, all over again.

The crew started to make their way out but Sanji lingered back, making his way towards you. You noticed and gave him a smile, noting that he really was handsome when he wasn't all heart eyed and half a puddle.

"Is there any way I can change your mind?" He blurted out, feeling his insides shake in anticipation.

"I don't know," you teased, suddenly starting to contemplate if it wouldn't be such a bad idea. You had always wanted to travel, to cook for all kinds of people with all kinds of ingredients; you just never could and had to make do with a small hotel on a small island. Wasn't this a chance to make your dreams come true? "What can you do to convince me?"

"Anything you want from me, mademoiselle," he said breathlessly, gently picking up your hand to press a soft kiss on the back of it. Your heart fluttered at the action, and you flushed. No one had ever treated you like this, like you were something delicate and priceless and every moment you looked in Sanji's eyes made you feel like you were about to be set on fire.

"W- Well," you stuttered, feeling like you had lost control, "how about you help with the dishes then?"

Surely he would not agree to that. This was just a game, and it was time he would back out. You would go back to your little place, and he would go back to his ship. There was no way he would be okay with–

"Is that all it takes, my lady?" The light purr in his voice made your cheeks feel warm.

"N- no, it's just the start," you turned away from him, trying to hide the blush rising up your cheeks. He was far too good looking to be paying you so intense attention and there was something about him that was capturing your heart, tempting it to agree to his words. If you left your girls behind, who would take care of them? All those men who treated them like they were dolls on display would not just disappear the moment you left the island. You couldn't leave them…

"Then, show me the way," he smiled at you, all perfect white teeth shining under the golden lights of your hotel. You just pointed him to the tower of dishes that his own crew had left behind and watched a little astonished as he really started to wash them.

"He's certainly one of a kind," your fellow cook and friend nudged you as she spoke. You couldn't look away from him as you answered her.

"I don't know what it is about him, but whenever he looks at me, I feel…" You abruptly cut off, feeling embarrassed. "Nothing!"

"You feel nothing?" You friend teased, "That blush on your cheeks doesn't look like nothing to me~"

"Shut up," you growled, hackles raised at the teasing. You never fared well with being teased or flirted with, and unfortunately, it seemed the blonde man– Sanji, his captain had called him, you remembered –was exactly of the latter type. He was no good for you, right?

"I don't know," your friend sighed, drawing up a sad smile as she looked at you. "I know your dream. Even if you don't feel anything for him, I know their offer is a chance for you. Why don't you just take it?"

"I can't leave you all behind," you murmured, heart paining at the thought of ditching them just for your dreams. "If I'm not here, what if–"

"Nothing's gonna happen," your friend interrupted you. "Come on, we aren't no weaklings. And I'm here, aren't I? I'll make sure everyone is safe and taken care of. So don't worry about us and go get your man– I mean, go fulfil your dreams."

You whacked her arm at the teasing, smiling genuinely as you watched Sanji finish off the dishes already. He was so fast, and you couldn't help but feel silly for finding that sexy. Competence and confidence was always sexy.

"Alright," you mumbled to yourself. "I'll do it. But, I think I'll take my time. I did say this is just the start."

Your friend raised an eyebrow at your amused smile. Sanji waved at you to indicate that he was done and you waved back, starting to make your way to him.

"It's more fun this way, isn't it?"

°•❀•°

#one piece #one piece imagines #one piece fanfic #one piece x reader #one piece sanji #op sanji #vinsmoke sanji #vinsmoke sanji x reader #sanji x reader #black leg sanji #short fic

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genderlessdude92 · 6 months ago

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. . .

⋆⁺₊❅.⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⁺₊❅. •̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ⁺₊❅.⋆꙳

⭑ ๋ ⊹ ࣭ Lynn’s/Genderlessdude92's masterlist !! ⊹ ๋࣭ ⭑

⋆⁺₊❅.⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⁺₊❅. •̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ⁺₊❅.⋆꙳

. . .

･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･⚬•・✦⋆°☽

☆♪..°.CALL OF DUTY.°..♪☆

･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･⚬•・✦⋆°☽

┃𖦹 I’M OKAY

SUMMARY: Ghost has came back from a harsh mission, most likely beaten to the core, and his S/o arrives worried sick. But, Simon can reassure her that everything will be alright.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･⚬•・✦⋆°☽

☆♪..°.HAZBIN.°..♪☆

･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･⚬•・✦⋆°☽

┃𖦹 THE BREAKING POINT

♪ SUMMARY: Y/N is a diligent worker, much to the chagrin of her partner, Alastor. Despite his efforts to get her to stop for both their sakes, Y/N remains steadfast in her duties. However, Alastor finds a loophole to this situation.

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┃𖦹 HOLD ME AGAIN

♪ SUMMARY: Alastor has been neglecting you ever since you guys had a fight. It gets to you. (MAJOR ANGST/MAJOR FLUFF)

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┃𖦹 Alastor x Reader who hates men

♪ANON ASK: “hai :3 can you do alastor with a s/o who is annoyed by men but she sees him and is like "but you're okay" because he's not a brute. it's like wow they're both mean to everyone except each other <3”

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┃𖦹 GENTLE, PLEASE!

♪SUMMARY: Y/N, like the nervous wreck she is, can’t stop spending her free time worrying over something that’s not even a big deal. Of course, one thing lead to another. (Thank you, Charlie, for letting them have the day off).

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┃𖦹 FORGIVENESS

♪SUMMARY: Alastor's work at the Hazbin Hotel keeps him preoccupied, leading to neglect in his relationship with Y/N. An argument later on arises, causing both to confront their feelings. Ultimately, they reconcile, promising to communicate better in the future. The story emphasizes the importance of understanding and communication in relationships.

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┃𖦹 A CLEAN MIND (First Part)

♪SUMMARY: After a long night of doing Lucifer’s Tango with the infamous Radio Demon, limbs sore to the brim, Alastor decides that it’s best to give his darling some proper aftercare. Of course one thing had led to another, but what would they do once they were caught in the net with a knock on the door?

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┃𖦹 AL, VOX, VAL, & LUCI WITH THEIR BIOLOGICAL CHILD

♪ANON ASK: “Hi, I really love your work! If your requests are open and if it's allowed, can I request for headcanons of Vox/Val/Alastor/Lucifer with their biological baby w reader?? I'm sorry if this is weird I just die for family dynamics😭😭 like, how would they act, would they be present or neglectful, and that stuff!! Ik it's impossible to have a child in hell but HEY. ITS FICTIONAL. It's really your decision if this is super fluff or super angst, but personally I believe it would be angst because it's hell and they are really famous 😭 THANKU”

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┃𖦹 PRECIOUS

♪SUMMARY: You and Alastor get into a fight because you’re just worried he got hurt after a fight with Vox. He snaps at you and…well, you isolate yourself. whoopsies!

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┃𖦹 STICKS AND STONES

SUMMARY: Y/N is shaken when Vox mocks her on live television with rude comments and even exposing her secret relationship with Alastor, too. Struggling with self-doubt, she feels inadequate in Hell's power-driven society. Alastor comforts her, emphasizing her unique qualities and their deep connection, helping her find solace despite the lingering hurt from Vox's comments.

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┃𖦹 IT’S OKAY TO NOT BE OKAY

SUMMARY: In a tranquil meadow near Cannibal Town, Alastor, the Radio Demon, returns to the sanctuary he shares with his beloved y/n, seeking solace from his chaotic life. Upon finding y/n in a state of distress and in the middle of harming herself, he realizes the depth of her pain and the hidden struggles she's been enduring. Through gentle support and heartfelt conversations, Alastor reassures y/n of his unwavering love and commitment, promising to face their challenges together.

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┃𖦹 I’M ALL YOURS

SUMMARY: Alastor and his S/O face the intensity of rut season together, with y/n offering her support and revealing her innocence. (Yup, you’re a virgin in this). Despite initial apprehensions, their passion culminates in a deeply intimate experiemce, as well as a night to remember.

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┃𖦹 THE STATIC SHE LOVES

SUMMARY: Y/N and Alastor navigate a tumultuous relationship marked by Alastor’s inner demons and his fear of vulnerability. After an intense argument and a moment of emotional and physical connection, Y/N’s unwavering love forces Alastor to confront his self-loathing and open up to her support. Despite the chaos surrounding them, their bond grows stronger as they choose to face their fears and flaws together.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Requests are always open! Notes, Comments, and are reblogs are appreciated! All writings belong to @l4zyb0n35 and @genderlessdude92

#alastor x reader #alastor smut #hazbin hotel x reader #angel dust x reader

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comfortcomes · 5 months ago

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i said i would make an actual post about this and my irls are sick of me talking about it on ig i’m sure but i do think it’s really really important that people know how much abortion funds are struggling rn on both the local and national levels. after the dobbs decision in 2022 there was a huge surge in donations to ab funds and a lot of them were able to expand their budgets as a result which was amazing. but that money is gone now, it is not being replenished on anywhere near the same level, and abortion access is MUCH more expensive than it was two years ago. these funds don’t just pay for abortion procedures (the cost of which has also gone up btw), they also provide direct support for flights, gas, hotels, because for people living in half the states in the US these are now crucial factors in their ability to access reproductive healthcare. the two biggest national funds (NAF and planned parenthood) have both capped their assistance for individual callers because of the demand, which in turn puts even more strain on local funds to close that gap. so basically if you’re trying to get an abortion as a US citizen today there’s no guarantee you’ll legally be able to in your state, the procedure will be more expensive and it’ll be harder to get an appointment than it was two years ago, and despite you paying what could easily be thousands of dollars to access essential healthcare, where you could have been fully funded by NAF in 2022, these orgs are now only able to pledge 30% of your total cost. funds in my state that have monthly budgets in the tens of thousands are having to close their helplines after two hours every week because of the insane amount of need. granted i live in a state that experiences unique demand as the first access point for many people living in southern states with abortion bans, but we’re not at all unique in the inability to keep up with the amount of people seeking help.

if you gave money to your local abortion fund when dobbs dropped, i guarantee no matter where it is that fund is now overwhelmed with far more demand and much less money than they had in 2022. and abortion funds are some of the only organizations you can donate to and be absolutely certain your money is going directly to people who need it—we’re a very small org but at the last budget meeting for my local fund we literally had less than $30 allocated for anything other than abortion support the entire fiscal year. two years ago people were giving “rage donations” in anger about the future injustices that would happen when abortion bans became widespread, but those things actually ARE happening NOW and there’s a really simple way you can make a small dent in a massive national crisis and it’s by becoming a recurring donor or volunteering for the abortion fund near you. as a country we’ve decided to just accept that women don’t have the right to full bodily autonomy in half of the US but you don’t actually have to accept it, you can stop numbing yourself to the grief you experienced about the end of roe v wade and contribute materially to slowly building that right back up again. and these are the places that are doing that: https://abortionfunds.org/find-a-fund/ and they really need your money

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frenchkisstheabyss · 1 year ago

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7 Psychopaths: Lee Know

x Summary: You are X, a seasoned assassin, and your boss has just assigned you an unusual task. You have two weeks to gather six men for a top-secret mission that requires their unique brand of psychopathy. The trick is, you've got romantic history with all of them.

A detail that might make this a walk in the park or the fight of your life. Time to find out...

x Pairing: assassin!lee know x assassin!chubby!fem!reader

x Genre: angst/crime au/smut

x Word Count: 1.8k-ish

x Warnings: blood, violence, fighting, knives, guns, disposable mob goon deaths, unprotected sex, fingering, mirror sex, hair pulling, lino is a lil obsessed with you, the strongest of language

x A/N: This is #2 in a series of 6 stories featuring two members from TXT, two from ATEEZ, and two from Stray Kids. They all follow the same theme and can be read chronologically or you can jump around. I support the chaos.

Previous Psychopath: Yeonjun | Next Psychopath: Wooyoung

Downstairs in the lobby of the Hotel Artemis the Innkeeper sits behind the check-in desk face down in a pool of his own blood. If someone were to lift his head up, the mangled flesh swimming around might resemble crushed raspberries. Their daily serving of fruit courtesy of you. But no one will lift his head up. They’ll all mind their business because that’s what you do here. You step around his body and grab your fucking key before you end up just like him or worse. He’ll wake up eventually. Probably.

Stepping into the surprisingly well-kept elevator, you press the button for the top floor, adjusting the garter belt beneath your dress as the doors close on the empty lobby. This is no time to admire architecture but you can’t help yourself. The Romanesque style interior is breathtaking, much nicer than the deathtraps you’ve found yourself in trying to track down the Black Cat. Some might call it lucky that Minho’s petty streak led him to the penthouse suite of the Artemis, right down the street from where your hotel is.

Watching the numbers light up one after the other as the elevator ascends, you’re shocked when it comes to a stop at the 6th floor, 14 floors short of your destination. You step back, wedging yourself in a corner, and fish your headphones out of your purse. Your music’s on before the bell dings, doors sliding open to let half a dozen goons file in. Italian mob. Dressed in all black. Cocky. Faces still healing from their last brawl. Half of them smile at you, nodding, politely admiring the way your dress hugs your curves, gawking at your flawlessly applied makeup.

You smile back and they turn away, eliminating you as a threat. Stealthy glances around the elevator reveal the guns tucked into their waistbands. The Big One, twice your size in every way, has a set of brass knuckles on his callused hands. Gold plated. Fancy. “Excuse me, gentlemen” you sing, maneuvering through them with the grace of a proper lady. They part the sea for you, unknowingly clearing a path to the control panel. “Getting off already, beautiful?” “Mmm'' you sigh, a manicured nail hovering near the bright red EMERGENCY STOP button, “Not yet.” Your fist slams down on the button, bringing 6,000 pounds of metal to a screeching halt.

Minho studies the 16th-century Turkish vase on display in the lavish, and utterly destroyed, penthouse of the Golden Child, a pretty boy whose mob boss daddy provides him with enough money to blow on all the cocaine, strippers, and obnoxiously expensive art he can get his hands on. “Don’t you touch it!” the Golden Child screams, spitting loose teeth and blood onto his bear skin rug. Minho pops open the glass display case that houses the vase and an assortment of other highly fragile artifacts. “Don’t touch what?” he asks, winding up the scarlet splattered golf club he used to lay ruin to the apartment and its inhabitant, “This?”

“I said no!” Minho chews at the inside of his lip, pretending to be unsure of his next move when he knows exactly what he’s about to do. The head of the club shatters the priceless vase into a thousand pieces, shards of ceramics and glass flying through the air as he dishes out swing after spiteful swing to those poor, innocent historical treasures. The Golden Child grabs onto the arm of his white leather couch, attempting to push himself up but broken ribs send him tumbling back down. “You’re out of your fucking mind!” he curses, “All because I spilled a drink on you? I said, ‘My bad!”

Winded, Minho tosses the golf club across the room, grinning to himself as he notices a leaking cut on his hand. “My bad?” he laughs, “My bad?” It disgusts him, the smugness of people who think they can run around doing anything they want to anyone they want. Poor manners, that is. His parents should’ve taught him better but that’s what Minho’s here for. Charging across the room, he grabs the Golden child by the collar of his soft cotton robe and hammers his head onto the floor. “My bad is not ‘Sorry!’”

Minho bashes his fist into the man’s jaw, the brute force of the blow knocking another molar loose, “Say sorry!” “Eat shit.” “What?” Minho snaps, positive his ears are deceiving him. The Golden Child smiles up at him, arrogant and entitled even in his battered state, “Eat shit. My dad keeps tabs on me 24/7. He’s probably sending some guys up here right now and when they get here? You're dead.” Grabbing the belt barely hanging onto the man’s robe, Minho twists it around his neck, depriving him of air.

“I guess I’ll see you on the other side then, huh?” Minho doesn’t blink, not even once, as the color drains from the Golden Child’s eyes, bone splintering, his windpipe crumbling just as easily as his precious vases. Saying sorry really couldn’t have been that hard.

“There’s nowhere to run, little one” taunts the Big One, trying and failing not to trip over the corpses of his friends. Your chest hurts like hell. The others were easy, so shit with their aim that only one bullet in 20 clips had even managed to skim your thigh. But this one? He won’t go down. Squared up against him, the knife from your torn garter clenched in your fist, you know you can’t let him hit you again. Another blow to the chest and you’re done for. “Who’s running, big boy? Let’s get it.” Tapping the EMERGENCY STOP button again, the elevator whirls back into action.

The Big One charges at you, swinging wildly. You duck, rolling through the bodies and slicing open the back of his left leg. The bell dings on every floor like the start of a boxing match. The Big One punches one of the walls, denting the metal. So much for pristine architecture. As he reels from the hit, you jump on his back, jabbing the knife into his chest from behind. The bell dings for a final time on the 20th floor. Biting down on your arm, he flips you over his shoulder, slamming you down onto the floor, knocking the air out of you.

The doors creak open as he raises his foot to stomp a steel toe boot down on your chest. Bang! A bullet barrels through his skull. The titan stumbles, his brain quite literally scrambled. Bang! Bang! Two more shots and he’s slumped on the ground with his friends where he belongs. Reunited at last. “Who’s your new boyfriend?” Minho teases from the hallway, tossing the gun to the ground. “You’re welcome!” you groan, flipping him off. He hops onto the elevator, pressing the button for the lobby. “Thank you,” he says, sweetly, grateful for your help and your presence.

Taking you into his arms, he props you up in the corner, checking you for injuries. “What is this?” You flinch when he brushes a tender spot on your head, “You tell me. You’re the one with the mob after you.” “No, I mean, what are you doing here?” “Oh, uh, boss sent me to get you” you stutter, the entire reason for your arrival in Rome having shifted to the back of your mind until now.

“We need you.”

“Where?”

“Berlin.”

“When?”

“Next week.”

“Okay, if…”

You whine when he caresses your thigh, checking the severity of the bullet wound. “If what?” “If you let me take care of you” he winks. “Take care of me? Why’d you say it like that?” Minho rips a long strip of material from the shirt of a nameless corpse and secures it around your thigh to stop the bleeding. He kisses your thigh, suckling softly at the tender flesh to distract you from the pain. Ding! First floor. The doors open to the lobby and he takes you by the hand, “Let me show you.”

Taking care of you. When you say that in this line of business, it’s never a good thing but Minho had no intentions of cutting your life short. The only thing on his mind was carrying you back to your hotel, running you a nice bath, and dressing your wounds. “All better?” he asks, his breath tickling your neck as he plays with your clit. This was a part of the plan too, getting you in his lap, his naked body reunited with yours after months apart. From this position on the edge of the bed, you can see your reflection clearly. Your plush breast bounces in one of his hands while the fingers of the other spread your lips wide enough to fully expose your clit.

With your legs dangling across his, follow your cream as it trickles down the base of his cock. There’s nothing fast or rough about the way he lifts his hips to fill you. The slight curve of his cock makes you stutter each time he disappears into your pulsing warmth. “All---ah---b-b-better.” “B-b-better?” he mocks, his fingers working faster against your clit. You reach back to cup his face, scratching him the slightest bit as punishment for being a smartass. The pain only makes him want you more. His cock is as hard and smooth as polished marble, leaking precum into your needy pussy.

Minho watches you in the mirror, admiring your reflection, entranced by how the beauty of your face and the plumpness of your figure could make him put a bullet through the skull of a man who even dared to look at you wrong. “Take over for me” he whispers, guiding your hand between your legs, his fingers moving on top of yours to splash in the audible wetness of your pussy. You pick up a rhythm together, one that has your breath growing ragged and your stomach in a frenzy. With his hand now free, he brushes your hair out of your face, tilting your head to the side to kiss you.

His tongue ventures as far down your throat as it can go, devouring your moans. Bouncing you in his lap at a quicker pace, still careful not to hurt you, he caresses your body, greedy to claim you as his like you were meant to be from the start. The argument that broke you up. That stupid fucking argument. He doesn’t even remember what it was about anymore and he doesn’t care. Because you’re in his lap, your back arching against his chest, sloppily playing with your own aching bud, biting on his lip while you whimper his name. Your pulse races, your hand reaching back to grip his hair for stability.

“Mmhmm, pull my fucking hair and cum for me” he urges, “Cum for me angel.” Your tongue lashes at his, his words making you burst. “Minho! Aah, baby!” you cry, pulling his hair harder as your orgasm deepens. Minho rests his head on your shoulder. Watching you cum is like performance art. “I don’t care about anyone else. Just promise you’ll never leave me again.” Your glossy eyes meet his in the mirror, “I promise.” “You mean it?” “I mean it.”

And you do mean it. You have to. Because, with the hell that awaits you in Germany, sweet reunions like this might end up being your last.

#lee know x you #lee know x reader #lee know x y/n #lee know angst #lee know smut #stray kids au #stray kids x female reader #stray kids x chubby reader #stray kids angst #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #chubby reader #plus size reader

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dummie-writes · 8 months ago

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the party walkers

self insert .✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* school bus graveyard

words: 2.21k

next part: a rescue mission

note: hot minute, hey guys, this is my first time writing for school bus graveyard! currently, it's probably my favorite webtoon (that being said, all my other favorites are on hiatus, so, yk. that's that.) if you followed me for genshin one shots, I just wanna let you know I'm NOT gonna stop writing them, permanently at least. I haven't been able to fixate on genshin for a bit because the app is too big for my phone and trying to play on my computer kills me inside. hope you enjoy, also things prooobably aren't gonna be perfect, lol, I'm going off memory of the first chapter/s

content: self insert for sbc, uh, go read that first, I don't think I'll end up including anything (at least, not here) that needs extra trigger warnings. long term, it's a tyler x reader, maybe, idk, but regardless I don't plan on starting that for a bit.

i. a demon inside of my skin

you hadn't been in "the room where it happened", so to speak. actually, you didn't know what everyone else was dealing with for about a week after savannah, because you thought you were having batshit crazy nightmares! your hotel room was a good bit further away from everyone else's that first night, and after making a run for it into a room and barricading yourself in, you thought that would be the end of it. everyone did, didn't they?

and then, you went home. warm bed, soft blanket, box fan running in the background while you scrolled through various social media apps. it was nearing midnight, but that wasn't new for you. the early morning hours were your friend, the moon a sibling by your teenage years. not unique, sure, but that was the reality of that situation. a small shiver tickles your spine as you remember the night mare last night brought you, your fingertips ghosting the spot on your knuckle where you had banged it and broken your finger in that dream. it was even sore when you woke up. sometimes, nightmares were like that though. sometimes people woke up gasping for air after drowning in their sleep, or craving cigars after being a smoker in their dreams. sore knuckles weren't that far off.

it was like a flash; one moment, you were watching a college aged blonde talk about the type of oils she used for her long, silky, soft hair, and the next, the sky from out your window was a bleeding carmine. there was a loud silence, no wind, no rain, no box fan or phone.

then, again, you heard it. click, click, click. chatter, chatter, chatter. okay. cool. another nightmare. fun and fantastic.

shooting out of your sheets, your index finger throbbed, sparing a second and glancing at it revealed purple spots upon green bruises splotched along your hand. curling your finger inward hurt, but was possible. making a fist around your blanket, you threw it as hard as possible off of you, hoping to distract whatever was making the noise. it did not have the desired affect, and flew a couple feet before expanding and landing softly on the floor. that didn't matter, you were already on your feet and they were thudding to your door before you were aware of what was going on, scrambling on the carpet of your bedroom as you heard skitter like movements from where your eyes couldn't catch the gray, uncanny human-like figure making its way toward you on all fours. it was fast. way, way too fast. the undignified squeal you released as you yanked open your door turned into a gravelly scream of both terror and agony when you slid through, slamming the door shut before you, a blackened finger along with it. it didn't fall to the floor, but instead was hanging painfully out of your back, right under your shoulder blade. like a when a plank of wood splinters, but has enough fibers to hang off and out of the main piece and bobs back and forth. except you're not a piece of wood, and you have to not scream right now.

you feel nausea drinking its way into your chest, but adrenaline pushes it to a back burner as a need to survive pulses in your brain. grabbing a random shoe, a picture frame from off the wall, and a small ball which were left on the floor earlier, you throw them in another direction and hope it sounds enough like footsteps that when you get into the bathroom, whatever that thing is doesn't try to follow you in there.

the balls of your feet aren't much quieter than your whole foot, but they'll have to do as you nearly slam the bathroom door, stop yourself in the knick of time to edge it closed instead, and lock it. for the first time in your entire life, you internally thank your parents that you didn't get that house with the skylight in the bathroom.

now, you hold your breath. the creaking of the floors beneath your cheap carpet tells you that that thing, that monster, that whatever-it-is, is passing by. your fingers shake as you cover your mouth with one hand, the other cupping your nose as you try desperately to slow and quiet your breathing. unfortunately, the racing of your heart isn't helping, and neither is the recognition of that wound that craved up your back so nicely. again, your stomach turns. you don't have time to deal with that right now, even if you can feel blood dripping down your back and throbbing which matches your heartbeat.

click, click, thump, thump. the shadow from the light outside darkens, two fuzzy shadows before the door. silence. praying.

click, click. click. it slowly, slowly, drags its hideous feet away from the door.

you can't breathe for another minute, and the instant you do, it comes out as a heave. your eyes go wide as you scramble toward the bathtub, making it just in time to spill your guts. after emptying your stomach, you pull away with watery eyes and a raw throat, coughing a couple times. you feel a little bit better, as you usually do after throwing up, but that won't last. also, you need water, and that means looking in the mirror if you don't wanna be loud. but for right now, you just need to lay down for a moment. just breathe. you're so, so light headed. you had only just woken up, and this all felt so real. the pain in your hand and in your back. the scratchy stinging you feel up your esophagus. the exhaustion pawing under your eyes as you start to lean backward;

except, you can't, and when you try that, you only shoot straight up and nearly puke all over again. thankfully, this time, the finger actually falls out of your back.

"𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵. 𝘐 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯."

you can reach the majority of the wound if you really reach. it won't be perfect, but you should be able to get it properly clean and bandaged with the first aid kit your family keeps in the bathroom. you don't really know how to clean a wound this big, though. will you need stitches? the only real way to know is to look at it, even if you aren't really ready to do so.

"𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘢𝘮 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴? 𝘪𝘧 𝘐'𝘮 𝘢𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱, 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘨 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘭."

the thought came to you before you even moved from your spot on the floor. oh, yeah. that's right. you're asleep.

...

huh. most dreams feel a little more, don't know. dreamy?? if this is a dream, candy is going to start raining from the sky right now.

right now. here.

𝘯𝘰𝘸, you think, looking up at the ceiling half heartedly. alright, if this was a nightmare, it was a really weird horrible one. and also, you'd rather not push your luck at this point. so, mirror it is. ignoring the pit of panic welling in your chest, you push yourself to your feet, and tip toe to the kitchen sink. you stare at the faucet, and then force your eyes upward. your hair is frazzled, and there are white specks along the corners of your mouth. and then, you turn around. your jaw tightens when you see the open wound, your nightshirt torn open and revealing tattered, aggressive flesh beneath it. that thing probably cut you to the bone. hopefully, because there is in fact a bone there, it didn't hit any organs. you can breathe fine, so your lung didn't seem all too punctured. it's just ugly. ugly and painful.

cleaning it is the first step, and you're just thankful that despite the fact that you stupidly, stupidly, stupidly dumped isopropyl alcohol onto it in hopes of doing so (for a second, before the burning, you felt a little uncomfortable. and then it hit, you nearly cracked your tooth from biting down so hard), it's over with.

a week later, you find yourself in class, rubbing sleepiness from your eyes. so, long story short, that wasn't a dream, and something is horribly wrong. you waking up to a long scab running down your shoulder blade told you that much. and things were about to get a lot worse. in the real world, that is.

"sir, please. they do literally nothing. they just sit there all spaced out, rubbing their eyes. it's like they aren't even trying for this project!" brandy, your classmate begs in a hushed tone. as annoying as the brunette could be at times, she wasn't wrong. a pang in your chest as you think of possibly making it so that the other members of your group protect fail because you are too tired to do your part. god, sorry brenda, you're too busy trying to huddle up in a bathroom all night and take care of a wound that isn't healing for some reason, all while praying that the thing that chased you in there and will probably kill you, doesn't murder you. but she's still not wrong. and it isn't like she knows that, because you have something seriously wrong with you. it's not her fault, and she shouldn't have to pay for you being crazy.

"mr. thomas," you quietly call, rubbing your elbow uncomfortably as you stare at the floor. you can see brandy pause from the corner of your eye, and you think there's even a sorry expression on her face. even if she was annoying, she clearly hadn't thought you heard that. and she had a right to be upset.

"I would like to change groups, if, um, possible."

there's a pause, and from your peripheral view, you can see your teacher and classmate motioning at each other, her probably trying to convince him to let you do so. a small thump, and then a sigh. "alright. I'm going to put you with ashlyn's group. "

as a redhead from across the room pops up and looks around, mr. thomas looks through a few pieces of paper, crossing something off with his pen. he didn't say it out loud, and frankly, he didn't have to. that was the group in the class that was also failing, so, you being in it wouldn't have much of an impact anyway. at least you wouldn't sink the whole ship all by yourself. was it smart, as a teacher? no. he probably should have put you with a tutor or something. looking up at mr. thomas as you nod and collect your things from your desk reveals an, in fact, apologetic eyed brandy. she mouths a "thank you", and you nod in return. you would drag your chair to their little group later, first, you should go introduce yourself, and hope they don't kick you out.

the bright blonde of the group catches you with his eyes before anyone else. you can hear him say something, and the rest of them stop talking and turn to look at you as you awkwardly walk over. their eyes are so piercing, it's making you uncomfortable.

"can we help you?" a brunette asks, tilting her head up to look at you. her tone carries no malice, just curiosity. makes you feel a little bit better.

"I'm so sorry to ask this, if you guys don't want me in your project I'll go ask if I can be alone or join another group or something, it's not a big deal. I'm having issues with my part of the project, and it's affecting everyone else's work in my group. so they were wondering if I could join in with you guys."

they all share a really weird look with each other, like they're talking telepathically or something. a tense moment passes, and two members speak up at the same time.

"yeah sure lol."

"fuck no."

"tyler! be nice! besides, we probably need someone who actually knows what's going on in this class!"

"didn't she just say she was having issues with her work? it's not like she's going to add much."

"to be fair, I don't think any of us are doing all too great on the work anyway."

you feel the need to clarify, mainly to get this over with. "I'm not really having trouble with the work. I'm just not doing it. I'm having sleeping issues, again, not a big deal if you don't want me to join."

they all stop, and look at you again. the redheaded one narrows her eyes, letting the braid she was messing with fall to her lap. her and the boy next to the brunette girl who asked you a question - actually, now that you're up close and looking at him, that looks like one of the boys on the baseball team. didn't she call him tyler? like tyler hernandez? huh. you didn't even realize you guys shared this class.

"what kind of nightmares have you been having?" the blonde asks, looking at who you're starting to assume is ashlyn. they have a staring contest of sorts while you start to answer. "oh, just weird ones. like, ones with monsters... and stuff..."

you didn't say anything about nightmares.

he looks at you again, a cat like grin on his face. "I think you should sit down. "

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

next part: a rescue mission

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ssleeping-in-a-coffin · 2 months ago

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Can vampires in Hotel Transylvania erase memories?

Let’s recall the first movie where Dracula attempted to erase Jonathan’s memory but failed. Later, Mavis outright asked her father to erase her memories. At first glance, this seems canonical and not worth questioning. However, the movie never actually shows how this process works. We only see failed attempts or verbal mentions of memory-erasure, but never its successful execution. This leaves room for interpretation, and I decided to explore this topic while sharing my perspective.

Let me state this upfront: in my canon, vampires cannot erase memories. There is no spell, skill, or level of experience that grants this ability. Now, let’s delve into why.

Take Dracula’s attempt to erase Jonathan’s memory, for instance. He looked into Jonathan’s eyes, his own glowed red, and he said, “Forget about the hotel.” To me, this feels more like hypnosis than true memory-erasure. This raises an important question: what exactly was Jonathan supposed to forget? Just the moment he entered the hotel? The road leading to it? Or the entire trip, including why he even came near the castle in the first place?

If we assume Dracula really could erase memories, how would it work technically? Does he sift through Jonathan’s mind like a slideshow, selecting which parts to remove? Or does he just “rip out” chunks of memory, regardless of consequences? This aspect is left unexplained in the movie.

Now, let’s draw a parallel with Harry Potter.

For those unfamiliar: in this series, wizards can manipulate memories using spells. They can extract memories with a wand and place them in a “Pensieve” — a magical basin where memories can be explored in vivid detail. They can also enter someone’s mind via spells to see events from the memory-owner’s perspective.

But there’s a crucial difference: memories in Harry Potter are far more detailed than real-life recollections. Wizards see everything — faces, furniture, surroundings — almost like a full movie. In reality, however, our memories function quite differently.

When we recall an event, such as a lesson at school, we don’t remember a full picture. Instead, we recall emotions, key interactions, and perhaps the faces of those we directly engaged with. Anything happening behind us or outside our focus doesn’t exist in our memory. It is limited by our field of vision and subjective perception.

This makes memories inherently fragmented. They are subjective, incomplete, and shaped by what we considered important at the time. If we apply this logic to the Hotel Transylvania universe, even if someone could manipulate memories, the result would likely be far from precise erasure.

Of course, we could imagine a character with a unique ability to perceive memories fully, down to the smallest details. A “memory master” who lives within recollections, much like in the Harry Potter depiction. Yet, even then, the process raises many questions: How accurate are memories? How do you decide what to erase and what to leave intact?

For these two reasons — the complexity of working with memories and their subjective nature — I believe that memory-erasure in the world of Hotel Transylvania is illogical and likely impossible.

#hotel transylvania #hoteltransylvania #vampire #vampires #artists on tumblr #my thoughts #thinking aloud #fantasy #text post #text #harry potter #tumblr writers #vampire lore #fan theory #magic #supernatural #creature lore

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kieraelieson · 4 months ago

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"One Emo Latte, with Extra Soulmates"

All Five Chapters - Or Read on AO3

Roll the Poll fic 1: Janus, Virgil, and Remy in a triad. In a Hurt/Comfort fic with a Soulmates universe and the prompt ‘housing’.

Content warning for kidnapping, fear of death, mild self-injury, quite a bit of cursing, as well as societal and specific poly-phobia.

Virgil’s head nodded and he jerked it upright. He’d hoped the smell of coffee would keep him awake, but he’d been nodding off ever since midnight.

“Heya, babes,” the barista said, giving him a wry, apologetic smile.

Virgil knew immediately why he was there. “Two hours again already?”

Remy nodded, peeking at Virgil over his shades. “Why don’t you head home and get some sleep? You could certainly use it.”

Virgil sighed, his inhibitions broken down by the lack of sleep and the way his favorite barista had allowed him to nod off in the corner all night, only following protocol when necessary. Namely, that a customer had to buy something every two hours, or else be asked to leave.

“I’m having… housing difficulties…” Virgil admitted, not willing to share any more.

Remy put a hand on his hip, considering Virgil. He then glanced around the cafe, confirming that it was empty. He sat down across from Virgil.

“We may be open 24 hours, but this really isn’t a great option.”

Virgil nodded. “Yeah, I know. I can— I can just go.”

“Hold on, bitch. I’m not kicking you out. Just trying to help you find a place to sleep.”

Virgil shrugged helplessly. “I don’t have much cash for a hotel or something.”

“What about your soulmate?” Remy asked. “I’m sure they’ll be willing to put you up for a night.” He winked at Virgil. “Pretty lil emo down on his luck, I’d tap that too.”

The flirty joke pulled a half grin out of Virgil. “I haven’t met him yet,” he admitted.

Remy shrugged. “Loads of soulmates are close to each other before they meet. Scribble down the address of the cafe. See if he shows up. Here, I’ve got a pen.”

Virgil took the pen, staring at it doubtingly.

Remy stood and stretched. “I need some caffeine in me too. I’ll treat you for this one.”

Virgil’s eyes went wide and he gaped at Remy. “No, you don’t have to do that!”

Remy just waved a hand dismissively in his direction, already going behind the counter and starting to pull out cups.

Virgil’s gaze was drawn to the pen again. He didn’t really dare to ask his soulmates for help. Not writing on his skin in public. They too clearly had different handwriting. Were too clearly Two.

It was the very reason he was out here now. Slipping up and referring to plural soulmates. His roommates didn’t want someone near them with two soulmates. No one did.

He’d been stopping by this cafe for over a year now, had made friends with Remy. He didn’t want to throw that away on a chance of a bed. He’d manage. He’d be fine. Somehow.

Maybe he’d try to get back inside the apartment anyway. Just cause his roommates didn’t like it, it wasn’t like they would physically force him out, right? If he just stayed in his room. Kept the door locked. He already wore long shirts and pants. As long as his soulmates didn’t screw him over with writing on his hands or face or something.

Remy came back, setting a steaming cup in front of Virgil. A to-go cup.

“Any responses?” Remy asked.

Virgil forced a smile. “Yeah, um, I’ve gotta get on the next bus, but he’ll meet me.”

“There you go!” Remy praised. “Have a nice night, practice safe sex, tell me all about it at some reasonable hour.”

Virgil stood up, taking the cup and laughing along with Remy. He left the cafe, abandoning the warm lit environment for the empty streets.

Someone entered just as he was leaving. Virgil only got a brief glimpse of him, but he was very unique, especially wearing a hat like that.

••^*^••

Remy huffed as Janus entered. And just after Virgil left too. He usually got a bit of time to chill on an overnight shift.

“Oh, and I’m just overjoyed to see you too,” Janus said smoothly, leaning against the counter with an entirely too attractive grin.

Remy rolled his eyes. “What’s your snakey ass doing bothering me at bitch o'clock in the morning?”

“A man can get a coffee, can’t he?” Janus purred, looking perfectly innocent.

“Not you,” Remy snarked, already starting to make Janus’s favorite.

Janus just smiled.

“Why are you really here?” Remy pushed.

Janus looked at his wrist, noticeably lacking in a watch. “Oh dear, what time is it?”

Remy scowled. “No.”

Janus looked back up at him, all innocence. “No? I genuinely do not have the time.”

Remy gritted his teeth. “You know someday I will not do this for you.”

Janus batted his eyelashes.

Remy shoved his coffee at him. “You’re lucky you’re pretty, bastard. It’s 4:27 am.”

Janus smirked triumphantly. “I was just chatting with you and sipping my coffee till 5.”

“Bitch.”

Janus wiggled his gloved fingers in Remy’s direction, sauntering out of the cafe. “I’ll owe you~”

“You better pay up this time, asshole!” Remy snapped at his back.

Fucking pretty ass Janus. And fuck his own crush on the man! He’d never have been dragged into all this if he could just keep it in his pants.

••^*^••

Janus arrived at the location. Why Remus had ever decided they had to meet up here was a mystery. As were most things about the man.

But. It was within walking distance of that cafe where Remy worked, so he had an easy alias and no license plate to track. His hat kept his face out of view from any cameras he didn’t discover ahead of time and avoid. It was early enough in the morning that both night owls and early risers were likely to be in bed.

Janus waited outside the apartments, putting himself in the shadow of a large ornamental shrub. Just a few minutes later a car drove up.

“Heya, Jan!” Remus greeted, throwing open the driver side door.

Janus grimaced at his volume, snapping in hushed tones. “Would you keep it down?”

Remus rolled his eyes obnoxiously, and then fished out a folder. “I got all the juicy details for you~”

Janus accepted the folder, flicking through it rapidly just to confirm Remus hadn’t swapped it with some folder of which sex toys he preferred or some nonsense.

“I appreciate it,” Janus said. “I’ll pay you the usual—“

He cut off as there was suddenly a loud crash from inside the nearest apartment. Janus cursed. This was why he would have preferred a different meeting location!

Remus craned his neck, trying to sneak a peek through the apartment window. “Oh this is perfect! Any suspicious persons’ reports will point right to those guys.”

Janus tensed, despite Remus’s optimism, as yelling continued from in the apartment. It was too muffled for him to tell what was going on, but he didn’t care to know either.

“We should get out of here,” Janus said.

Just then, the door to the apartment opened, and someone was pushed roughly out, falling to the pavement.

“Don’t let me see your freak ass again or I Will beat the shit out of you!” A man from within the apartment yelled, slamming the door shut.

Janus winced. He did not want to be a part of some domestic dispute. He turned to walk away, even if Remus was going to be an idiot and stay to watch.

But then the crumpled man on the ground said something that stopped Janus in his tracks.

Just one word. A simple, “You?” Implying recognition.

Fuck.

Janus didn’t know the man from Adam. But he was not allowing someone to see him, in this location, at this time, knowing who he was somehow. No. He could not leave witnesses.

He turned to Remus. “Help me.”

Remus, showing off one of his brief streaks of competency, scrambled out of the car and dashed the few feet towards the man.

Janus slid into the driver’s seat just as Remus pulled the struggling man into the backseat, one hand covering his mouth. He sped out of the apartment complex, taking roads with less cameras and getting out of the town.

Fuck, what was he going to do now?!

Chapter Two

Virgil was going to die.

He’d thought he could just slip into the apartment and to his room with everyone asleep, but Roger was still up, and saw him immediately. He confronted Virgil, ruining all plans of laying low as his words quickly became yelling. Virgil tried to defend himself, that he couldn’t help how many soulmates he had, and he hadn’t even met them! But Roger didn’t care. He wanted Virgil out.

Virgil, with a confidence built only of the coffee he could still taste on his tongue, had refused to leave. He’d thought that, angry as they might get, his roommates wouldn’t actually escalate to physically pushing him out.

Oh how wrong that was.

His ribs still ached from the several hits they’d absorbed before he’d been shoved out the door. And his head was spinning and aching from the impact against the coffee table.

And also the fact that he was going to die.

That guy with the hat was doing some, some drug deal or something, who knew, and Virgil like a supreme dumbass had opened his mouth.

Tall, big, and stinky had grabbed him, an arm wrapped around both of his, pinning them to his torso, and the other hand clamped over his nose and mouth. He couldn’t scream, couldn’t get the breath to. All his kicking and wriggling hadn’t been enough before he was pulled into the car.

And now they were driving away.

He was So Dead.

The guy holding him shifted the hand over his face once the car was moving, uncovering his nose so Virgil could breathe freely. He sucked in air, tears beginning to leak from his eyes.

He was the fucking worst, unluckiest son of a bitch to ever exist. Two soulmates, homeless now, kidnapped. And they didn’t have masks on. No masks meant he could recognize them, and they wouldn’t leave him alive.

He was going to die.

He didn’t want to die!

His whole life he’d been looked down on or bullied for having two soulmates but he’d never even met them! He wanted to at least see them before he died.

Virgil’s breath came faster, catching in his congested nose and making him panic. He needed to breathe! He couldn’t breathe!

His chest heaved with sobs and his desperate attempts to get air.

“Might get loud,” the man holding him said, and then abruptly the hand over Virgil’s mouth was gone.

Virgil gasped, drinking in the air. Without the cover over his mouth his sobs rang out loud in the otherwise silent car. If he wasn’t so thoroughly miserable and about to die anyway he would’ve been embarrassed, might’ve managed to stop himself, but he just couldn’t.

“I don’t wanna— Please, don’t kill me!” He forced out between sobs.

“We’re not going to kill you,” the driver snapped.

He didn’t know if he could believe it. But even without a single assurance that it was the truth, relief flooded through Virgil.

“I didn’t see anything,” he blurted. “I-I don’t have a clue who you are. I don’t know what you were doing. I d-don’t know anything. I swear I won’t tell anyone anything!”

The driver made a frustrated sound. “Just— shut up.”

Virgil fell silent, other than his breath coming in hiccuping half-sobs.

“What is our plan, Jannie?” The man holding him asked.

The driver made a rough, growling sound. “For now, I’m getting us out of town. We’ll have to find a way to manage him without you carrying him everywhere so I can drop you off. I’ll figure out what to do from there. And I’ll need to keep the car.”

“I’ve got duct tape!” The man said, entirely too happily.

Virgil squirmed against his hold, trying to get his arms free to— to— to make a nuisance of himself at least. Of the two men, one had recognized his need to breathe, and the other had told him to shut up. He liked his living chances better with both of them than just the one.

But the man holding Virgil was far too strong for him to fight against, and soon Virgil was pressed down into a car seat, his arms pulled behind his back. He bit back another sob as his wrists were taped together, and then the tape wound around his torso and arms haphazardly.

“Check him for anything dangerous,” the driver said. “And anything he could use to contact someone.”

A chill ran down Virgil’s spine. He was gonna die anyway, wasn’t he?

••^*^••

Janus’s mind had been nothing but a steady stream of ‘Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck’ ever since he’d heard the crash in that apartment.

Now he had a man tied up in the car, terrified for his life, and no idea what to do with him.

Now that he had the folder, Janus’s plans had been to buckle down and work on the contents. It would take him days, and that was if he managed to be fast enough. He didn’t have Time for a problem like this!

And even if he Had time, that still left the question of what was he going to do?? He couldn’t let him go, that was obvious. He definitely wasn’t going to kill him. The only other option seemed to be keeping him, but that wasn’t at all viable long term.

At least for the moment though, Janus couldn’t see any other options.

Remus had flipped up the man’s hood over his eyes, so he couldn’t look out and around at where they were as they approached a place where Janus could drop Remus off. He also properly buckled him in before he got out, a thing he ought to have done ages ago. Since then, the man had been quiet.

Janus drove, looping around and doubling back multiple times on his way to his house. The less the man knew about where they were and how to get back, the better.

Janus sighed heavily as he parked. His gut was already twisted in knots, his conscience screaming with how much he’d already done to this random person. And here he was about to scare him more.

He pulled out the gun he knew Remus had hidden in the car, pointing it at the man, held low enough that he could see it under the hood.

The man stiffened, but Janus didn’t give him time to beg for his life again. He didn’t think he’d manage to hold onto him at all if he did. He was cursed with a bleeding heart and if this man begged again he might just let him go and fuck all the consequences.

“You’re going to stay quiet.” Janus commanded. “You’re going to come with me into the building, and you’re going to do everything I say.”

The man nodded rapidly, his breathing getting fast and shallow.

“I don’t want to bother keeping this gun pointed at you the whole time, but be assured I will always have it on hand.”

The man nodded again.

Janus tucked the gun into his waistband, wishing he’d had the forethought to bring a holster. Then he got out of the car. When he opened the back door, the man stayed silent, as he’d been told to. Janus undid the buckle and guided him into the house.

He breathed slightly easier once he was inside the house with the door locked.

Now what?

He couldn’t just start in on work with curious eyes wandering around.

It was nearly seven now. Maybe he’d make breakfast.

He knew he was just continuing to push the real problem down the road, but he hadn’t come up with any answers.

Janus left the man standing in the dining room and started looking through his fridge. He wanted something that would take a bit of time. Push that problem just a bit further before he reached a point where he had to deal with it.

He finally pulled out some vegetables and started chopping them. He took his time slowly making complex omelets, only looking towards his captive when the man maneuvered his way to the floor to sit.

Unfortunately, even after the long cooking, Janus didn’t have any better ideas. This was so far out of the realm of what he expected he’d never planned for it, never considered it before.

He carried the plates into the dining room and set them at the table. He helped pull the man up so he could sit in a proper chair. Then he flipped back his hood.

It was the first real look he’d gotten at the man’s face. Janus swallowed. His… very pretty face. If he wasn’t careful this would be Remy all over again, only worse because he’d already drug this man so deep into his mess he couldn’t see a way to get him out again.

Janus’s second reaction was pity. The man was blinking in the brighter light, out from under the shade of his hood, and his face was tearstained and red, streaked with black eyeshadow. Janus also noticed a large bump near the back of his head.

He gently probed it, concerned as the man winced, trying to duck away from his hand. This was recent. Remus hadn’t knocked him around any. It must have been in the commotion in the apartment.

Janus went back to the kitchen. He got a cloth and dampened it, then also got an ice pack.

“If I take off the tape, you will not attempt to attack me or run away,” Janus said. He’d found that in many cases, phrasing questions as statements and statements as questions tended to throw off the other person, and he got what he wanted more easily.

The man nodded silently. Janus remembered that he’d told him to be quiet earlier. He moved behind the man, cutting at the tape with scissors. “You’re welcome to speak, so long as you aren’t loud.”

“Thanks,” the man muttered.

“Are you in pain?” Janus asked, considering whether this was a simple ice and ibuprofen type of situation, or whether he would need to attempt further first aid.

The man shrugged, picking up the cloth and cleaning his face, then holding the ice pack to the bump on his head.

Janus rolled his eyes at the non-response. “Would you object to taking painkillers?”

That prompted a quiet, “No.”

Janus retrieved the bottle, opening it in plain view so it could be seen he wasn’t switching the pills with anything. He got two cups of water, and then sat down to eat his own, rather cool by now, breakfast.

“What’s gonna happen now?” The man asked, looking up at Janus.

His gaze was piercing, possibly even more so because he didn’t intend it to be. Janus feigned nonchalance.

“I’m not telling you. You’ll find out as it happens.”

He could see a faint shudder run through the man. He didn’t have a better answer though, for him or for himself.

••^*^••

Remy had been thinking about Virgil ever since he left. He hoped it had gone well, getting picked up by his soulmate.

It drew his mind to his own soulmates. At a young age they’d come to realize how dangerous it was to be three, and they tried to spare each other the danger.

He didn’t know either of their names. Didn’t know where they lived. What they did for work. Nothing. He hadn’t even contacted them in several weeks.

He wanted to.

The desire built up over the remainder of his shift, and when he got home Remy caved to it.

He scrawled in sharpie, high up on his thigh where it wouldn’t be easily noticed regardless of what he chose to wear, Heya. How’s it going?

Chapter Three

Virgil noticed the note on his thigh when he used the bathroom. It gave him an idea. A brief flutter of hope.

His phone might have been taken from him, but if he could manage to contact his soulmates, maybe he could get help.

He exited the bathroom, and immediately his captor’s gaze was on him, watching as Virgil returned to the couch. He didn’t seem to be unkind. He’d given Virgil food, and painkillers, and hadn’t hurt him. Was even letting him walk around this house without being tied up.

And it was a house. Not like an abandoned warehouse or a back alley or any of the other scary locations Virgil had expected to end up in. He might… not die?

His captor was still incredibly intimidating though, and was keeping a close eye on Virgil. He didn’t know where to find a pen or a marker, and even if he did, he was sure he’d be discovered with whatever he wrote on his skin.

But if he did something temporary maybe?

Virgil tentatively laid down on the couch. His captor watched him do it, but then went back to reading through some paperwork of some kind. Virgil rolled over, facing the back of the couch.

It made his skin crawl to have his back to the man, but he had a purpose for it. It gave him just a bit of cover, just enough hopefully.

Virgil pushed his sleeve up. He was going to dare to do this on his arm. He knew his soulmates mostly wore clothes that covered skin, but if any part of them would catch their attention, forearm was a safe bet.

Taking his thumbnail, Virgil pressed hard into his skin, dragging the nail to make a white line in his skin. The white quickly became an irritated red, but he knew from experience that the red would be gone in just a few minutes. He slowly made more lines on his skin, trying to keep his movements small so he wouldn’t be noticed.

Help

••^*^••

Remy stared at the faint red lines on his forearm as they appeared. He’d noticed around the time the H was completed, while he was changing into pajamas to sleep the day away. His curiosity quickly turned to concern as the word finished.

He grabbed a pen, scribbling onto his wrist.

How?

As he watched, waiting, the Help faded on his arm. Definitely not red pen. That… that definitely seemed worse.

In response, he got a slow and scratchy-looking number. A phone number.

Well. Remy could definitely call.

The phone rung multiple times, eventually going to voicemail, unanswered.

“Hey, this is Virgil. I missed you somehow, but just send a text or leave a message and I’ll try and get back to you later.”

Remy frowned, confused and more than a little unbelieving. Virgil?? What did Virgil have to do with this?? With one of his soulmates? But it was definitely his voice.

Virgil was supposed to be on a bus right about now, maybe even picked up already by his own soulmate. Maybe Virgil’s soulmate was nearby to Remy’s soulmate? This was all just so weird and confusing.

Remy next tried texting.

Hey, everything alright?

The response he got back alarmed him even more, though it didn’t remove any of his confusion.

Hello. He’s at the hospital. Unconscious, but stable. He was in a car accident. I’m informing his family and work through his contacts, and then turning the phone off. He won’t be able to come in for a few days.

Remy stared at the text for a long few minutes. So Virgil didn’t have his own phone. He’d never talk like that. And whoever did seemed to think that Remy was someone from his job? And he was in the hospital?!!

Remy wrote on his wrist, just under the how?

???

He didn’t have any better ideas of what to write.

There was no response. Not for a while.

Then finally.

Help

Please

Remy started looking online to see if there were any way to track someone based on just a phone number.

••^*^••

Janus didn’t know why he hadn’t considered that of course the man had a job. They’d both startled when the phone rang, and the man had cringed into the couch, rapidly throwing out any number of apologies for being called by his boss, as if Janus was going to fault him for that.

Janus had figured out something to send back, and sent it to the top few contacts on the phone just in case before turning it completely off.

What was he supposed to do now?

Surely people would begin looking for the man sooner than later. And Janus could manage to whisk him into hiding, but that would be a lot of work. And… he wasn’t sure he could handle it, emotionally. The longer this went on, the worse he felt.

He wasn’t cut out to be a kidnapper. Certainly not a kidnapper of a random handsome stranger. If he’d hated the man, perhaps he would be managing this better.

An idea was beginning to form though. An idiotic idea. A stupid, horrible, terrible, dangerous idea.

If he could get the man on his side, he wouldn’t need to hold him captive. On the other hand, if the man was absolutely against rights for people with multiple soulmates, well, it would be easier for Janus to hate him.

On the dangerous side, if the man was smart and had an ounce of self-preservation, he’d go along with everything Janus said, at least verbally, and then go straight to the police as soon as he was released.

The real question was if the danger of that outweighed the twisting in his gut every time he scared the man. Janus was way too fucking soft for this. He should’ve kept Remus here.

Janus sighed. He was an over-emotional fool.

••^*^••

Virgil was trying hard to stay calm. It wasn’t working.

His soulmate had actually called. Really and truly. And then his captor had sent some kind of message in response and had turned his phone off. Virgil hoped he’d convinced him that it was just work calling cause he was late. But he hoped more that his soulmate could actually do something with the little information.

Only one soulmate had responded to his desperate messages, but with such a short time on his skin, he wasn’t surprised that the other hadn’t noticed.

His arm tingled unpleasantly, the skin irritated and tender.

Suddenly, his captor let out a sigh. Virgil tensed as the man closed his folder and turned his attention entirely towards Virgil.

Virgil carefully sat up.

“I imagine you are aware that it is possible to have more than one soulmate,” his captor said.

A tremor ran through Virgil. Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit, he wasn’t kidnapped randomly cause he witnessed the deal. He was kidnapped for having two soulmates, this was So Much Worse! And he’d gone and asked one of his soulmates for help!! They’d be pulled into this!

His captor’s lips pressed together. He continued speaking. “Having multiple soulmates is estimated to occur in 0.67% of people. Though many of those hide this fact, so the percentage may well be inaccurate.”

Virgil hesitantly nodded. He had to try and stay on this man’s good side.

“The reason it’s often a hidden fact is that society frowns heavily on those with multiple soulmates,” his captor said, emotion flickering over his face. An emotion Virgil never expected. Something like… grief?

“Many people don’t know until they run into it that there are laws restricting actions by those with multiple soulmates, particularly if it can be proven that the individual has multiple.”

Virgil actually didn’t know that. He’d heard rumors, but had always just tried to lay low himself.

“Because of societal standards, it’s incredibly hard to change these laws… through normal avenues.”

Virgil swallowed. This sounded an awful lot like telling him about illegal things. He’d be an accomplice. Maybe. He wasn’t entirely sure how that worked. But regardless, he’d never be allowed to live once he heard about illegal plans.

He couldn’t deny his curiosity, but more than that he was scared. He covered his ears with his hands.

“I-I don’t know why you’re telling me this!” Virgil blurted. “Look, good for you trying to help us, but don’t tell me illegal shit! The more you tell me the more I can tell police, and I’m not an idiot, I know you can’t just let that go. I don’t wanna end up dead, stop telling me things that’ll make me end up dead!”

He finally managed to shut himself up. He’d never intended to say all that. He glanced up at his captor’s face, expecting a scowl, or even the gun pointed at him again. But instead there was a sort of pleased shock.

“Us?”

Virgil’s face drained of blood. “N-no, I didn’t mean that. I meant to say them. Them.”

The man grinned. “You definitely said us.”

“I didn’t!” Virgil protested. “Or I didn’t mean to!”

“You have multiple soulmates,” the man said, his grin widening.

“I do not!” Virgil yelled, accidentally breaking the ‘be quiet’ rule. “I don’t! I-I-I’m normal! I’m not a—“ his voice cracked, and he swiped angrily at his eyes, which were leaking again.

The man’s expression softened. “It’s alright,” he said gently.

“It’s not!” Virgil argued. Why he was being an idiot and getting angry and upset and arguing when the man across from him had a gun he had no idea. But he couldn’t seem to help it. Feelings were rushing up from his chest, pouring out his throat. “It’s not ok! It’s never been ok! People always hate you for it and I can’t… I haven’t even met them!”

He was crying. He swiped his sleeves over his face.

“Why does everyone hate me for it? I didn’t even get to meet them. Everyone else gets to find their soulmate! Everyone else gets a happy ever after! Why do they fucking hate me so bad!?”

At some point the other man had moved from his chair across from Virgil to sitting on the couch next to him. He took the hand Virgil was tugging at his hair with, loosening his grip on the strands.

“I have multiple too,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper, hard to hear over the harsh breaths stuttering out of Virgil’s mouth.

“I didn’t even get to meet them,” Virgil repeated, the words coming out in a whimper.

“You should’ve gotten to,” the man said.

The words seemed to ring in Virgil’s mind, not quite sinking in, but refusing to leave.

“You deserve to meet your soulmates,” the man said firmly. “You deserve to get to love them. To be near them. Just as much as anyone else.”

Virgil stared at him, the validation cracking a dam he’d long held within him, emotion flooding out and overwhelming his already strained system. He lurched forward, clinging for comfort to a source he never would’ve considered.

The man let him cling, even wrapped his own arms around Virgil, gently shushing him and telling him it would all be ok.

Chapter Four

Janus wasn’t sure how this had happened. But he’d held the man while he cried, and now he had another damp cloth, wiping his face.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m like this. I guess I just haven’t slept and…” the man trailed off, hugging one of Janus’s throw pillows to his stomach.

“Would you like me to take you home?” Janus asked. He hadn’t thought it through. But he didn’t regret it either. Regardless of what he chose to do next, this man didn’t deserve to be held captive and scared.

The man’s face cycled from surprise back to teary. “I don’t have one anymore.”

Janus pressed his lips together. Well, he had seen the man forcefully kicked out.

“You’re welcome to stay if you like. As a guest. I won’t force you. Or if there’s somewhere you’d like me to take you?”

The man’s face scrunched up, clearly caught between gratitude and suspicion. “Why would you do that?”

Janus gave him a small smile and a shrug. “You’re like me. If I’m going to fight for us, how could I then hurt one of us?”

“But—but I still saw your weird deal. A-and I can recognize you. I could tell the cops and— you definitely shouldn’t just let me go.”

Janus’s smile became wry. “I’ll have to take the chance that you won’t.”

The man just looked disbelieving.

Janus set down his cloth. “I won’t ask that we start over. I’ve already done more than I expect to be forgiven for. But perhaps we could try introductions? My name is Janus.”

Despite his disbelief, after a moment the man held out a hand. “Virgil.”

Janus shook it gently. “I’m glad to make your acquaintance, Virgil. Would you honor me by being my guest? If you haven’t slept, there’s a bed you’re welcome to use.”

Virgil rubbed his eyes with his sleeves. “It’s not fair to kidnap someone and then be all nice. Giving off real mixed signals.”

Janus couldn’t help chuckling. “I should not have kidnapped you. I’m truly sorry.”

Virgil shrugged. “You had to. Someone saw you doing illegal shit. This is the weird part.”

Janus kept chuckling, something traitorous in his chest doing little flips. “I’m well aware.”

Virgil blinked, slowly, and Janus could see as tiredness began beating his inhibitions.

“I think… yeah. I might take you up on the bed. Would you…” The spark of fear returned to his eyes for a moment. “Would you put the gun somewhere? Out of reach.”

Janus nodded solemnly. At some point, he would explain to Virgil that this particular gun was incapable of shooting, but this didn’t seem like the time.

Janus stood, offering a hand to help Virgil up. Virgil didn’t take his hand, but did follow as Janus directed him to the bedroom. Janus left him alone and went back to work, but he was unable to get him out of his mind.

••^*^••

Virgil curled up on the bed, feeling awkward about laying in someone else’s bedroom. The exhaustion was tugging at him far more than the awkwardness, however, and he was slowly relaxing.

His mind was still full of swirling emotions, but fear had retreated to one of the smallest. The man- Janus, was definitely still doing illegal shit, but he was trying to help people with multiple soulmates. He may have kidnapped Virgil, but looking back, about the worst thing he actually did to him was to tie him up with tape and threaten him with a gun.

Virgil frowned. Those were definitely bad things. So why was his brain trying to say they paled in comparison to what he’d said? Actions were definitely more telling than words.

But those words.

You deserve to meet your soulmates.

You deserve to get to love them. To be near them.

They’d pierced somewhere deep within Virgil, letting light and air in, allowing him to want. And now he couldn’t stop himself from wanting.

He felt he might owe Janus something deeper and more important than the kidnapping.

And his mental image of Janus had shifted from the terrifying stranger in an odd hat, and now was all warm chest and soft words. And acceptance.

They were alike. They both had multiple soulmates. Virgil had never met anyone else with multiple soulmates, at least not knowingly. Having his deepest secret not only known, but shared. It screwed up his self-protective instincts, already putting Janus as part of Us, when he should undeniably be a Them.

Virgil’s brain flitted over the idea of helping Janus, and he tried desperately to cut off that possibility entirely. He was not about to get himself into criminal business just because a handsome man was just like him and trying to help and… oh fuck he was genuinely considering it.

Virgil buried his face in the nearest pillow. This was idiotic. This was death wish levels of stupid. He should not be considering this!! He’d just been kidnapped by the man for fuck’s sake!

••^*^••

It had been nearly an hour of Remy trying to figure out how to use a phone number to track a person. He’d stumbled across more information about Virgil than the anxious man would ever be comfortable knowing could be found on the internet, but no way of tracking where his phone was at the moment.

And still the minutes kept trickling by.

There were no new messages. Remy kept his sleeve rolled up, and checked it every few minutes just in case, but nothing.

He was getting more and more concerned, both for his unknown soulmate, and for Virgil.

He had one more option, either to help him, or to convince him that everything would be fine. Janus.

Janus owed him anyway.

And if he was in the cafe wanting an alibi the night before, he was almost sure to be holed up in his house ignoring all attempts to contact him. So Remy would have to go to him.

That decided, Remy grabbed one of his emergency cold coffees from the fridge and got into his car.

Janus’s house was maybe 20 minutes away. Remy kept his sleeve pulled high, glancing away from the road on occasion in case of further messages.

He unlocks Janus’s door without bothering to knock first.

“Jay! Gotta problem here.”

Janus comes quickly around the corner, concern and alarm plain on his face. “What happened? Are you alright?”

Remy gestures to his arm. “I am, but apparently my soulmate isn’t, and it’s got some weird crazy thing to do with my friend Virgil, and you’d better have some cool illegal way to track a bitch, cause I am not used to being a worrier and I hate it!”

Janus blinked several times at the barrage of words. Remy cursed at his slow uptake. “Come on, Jay! Open your little bag of tricks and help me out here.”

“Virgil?” Janus asked, apparently painfully slow today.

Remy groaned loudly. “Yes. I’ve told you about him before. And apparently I’ve got a soulmate near him, cause I was sent his number and a message for help.”

Janus takes his hand, frowning down at his arm, bare of everything other than what he’d written himself.

There’s the sound of a door from further in the house, and Remy has only a moment to wonder who Janus has over when a very familiar figure comes around the corner.

“Remy?” Virgil asks, and then when he sees him, “Remy!”

Virgil unexpectedly runs forward and grips Remy around the waist. They hadn’t really… hugged before. So it’s strange, but Remy’s concern being suddenly relieved at seeing Virgil unhurt outweighs that. He wraps a protective arm around Virgil.

“Oh hell, nah. There’s some major explaining to do.” Seeing Janus looking guilty, Remy jabs a finger at him, sloshing the remainder of his drink inside the cup. “You. Talk. Now.”

Janus abruptly looks even more guilty.

Virgil suddenly gasped, grabbing at Remy’s arm and staring. Before Remy can explain about his soulmate’s messages, Virgil is shoving his own sleeve up, holding it close to compare.

Remy stared with wide eyes. It was Virgil. Virgil was his soulmate. One of them, anyway.

“Oh, you lied to me,” he breathed out, not genuinely upset. He understood lying about multiple soulmates. He’d done the same himself many times.

Suddenly, several things clicked together in his head, and he rounded on Janus. “What the hell did you do?!”

Janus raised both hands. “There’s a whole story to it, Rem—“

Remy stepped forward, backing Janus against a wall, using his extra few inches to loom over him. “Better start telling then.”

“I’m fine… now,” Virgil said, sounding almost defensive of Janus.

Remy’s eyebrows shot up. There was some Tea here. And he was Going to be told All of it.

After a full explanation, Remy stood above Janus, his arms crossed. Janus looked supremely guilty, as he Was.

Remy grabbed his arm, shoving the sleeve up. As he now expected, his scrawl was on Janus’s wrist as well.

“I told you we should check if we were soulmates!” He exclaimed.

Janus just stared with wide eyes, awe taking over his expression. He reached out softly to Virgil, comparing his arm to his as well.

Virgil was just looking back and forth between the two of them with shock and wonder.

“Alright babes,” Remy said authoritatively. “This is how it’s gonna go. You,” he pointed at Janus. “Are going to pull out your first aid kit and we’ll check Virgil over for any hurt he got from that asshole he used to call a roommate. Then you’re going to give us your bedroom for a nap, and treat us both to a good lunch when we wake up from a nap. After that, and only after, will we start to consider forgiving you.”

Janus grimaced, but to his credit, he knew when it wasn’t the time to argue.

“You,” he turned on Virgil. “Are going to show us everywhere that hurts. Once I’m convinced that you’re properly ok, then it’s nap time. I’ll let you make your own decisions on Janus after. As far as I’m concerned, he’s sleeping on the couch tonight and owes me about a hundred coffees.”

Janus was starting to look genuinely dejected, and Remy grabbed his collar, pulling him in for a deep kiss.

“Tonight we talk about being soulmates,” he said more gently. “And how we want to play that.”

Virgil grabbed Remy’s hand in one of his, and Janus’s with the other. His eyes were shining. He didn’t say anything, but he squeezed both their hands tightly.

Well! Discovering two of his favorite people were his soulmates. Not a bad day.

Chapter Five

~one month later~

Virgil read the paper carefully, studying each word at a time. He highlighted a line before passing it to Janus.

“This bit reads oddly.”

Janus looked at it, and his nose wrinkled. “That bit was original.”

Virgil scrunched his face up. “That’s been in the law?”

Janus shrugged, the look of disgust on his face apparent. “There’s a reason I’m changing it.”

Now that he was a full part of Janus’s operation, Virgil had been told everything. Janus was slowly taking laws and regulations, tweaking them subtly, and getting a man on the inside to swap them with the originals. That man, Patton, was married to Remus’s brother, and they had another partner named Logan who was not yet let in on illegal activity.

Change was slow. Incremental. It had to be. It couldn’t be noticed, or everything would be ruined.

But a law here tweaked to be more lenient, a regulation loosened there, and society gradually became less hostile to people with multiple soulmates. Slowly.

Virgil reached over, wrapping his fingers over Janus’s. Janus smiled at him softly, and raised his hand to his lips. Virgil watched as a small flower bloomed to existence on his knuckle, drawn by Remy.

He flushed slightly. He still wasn’t ready for the full kisses that Janus and Remy often shared, but he was certain that smaller affections like this filled his heart just as full.

Janus released his hand, going back to his work. Virgil took the paper back, continuing his own proofreading of the draft.

••^*^••

Remy often found himself drawing on his skin now. Drawings couldn’t be so easily pointed to different hands, and thus were safe to revel in. Flowers over his knuckles, hearts over his hands, larger more detailed designs covering his arms and legs.

His night shifts at the cafe were never quite so dull anymore, knowing he could send a bit of art to one of his loves. And many times, one of them would show up. With Virgil, it was often for coffee and long talks, like they had before but deeper, more tender. Janus still wanted an alibi half the time he stopped by, but now there were visits where he’d come to make out if the cafe was empty.

When his shift was over he’d head back home. Virgil was coming over in the morning. He often split his time between Remy and Janus’s houses, almost like they had a custody agreement over him.

It was difficult for Remy sometimes, adjusting to a partner who wanted to take things real slow. But Virgil’s softness and cute grumpiness was uniquely special to him, and he looked forward to the day he’d get to kiss him silly.

Despite the rough time that brought them to realize they were soulmates, none of them truly regretted it, though Janus still apologized if one of them brought up the kidnapping.

••^*^••

Janus had never felt so fulfilled.

He’d always believed strongly in the cause, knowing he was a member of the minority he fought for. But it was different somehow, having his soulmates with him.

Remy and Virgil were so similar and yet so different. Both would snark and snipe, especially as Virgil got more comfortable around him. But Virgil had a softness to him where Remy had passion. Remy had initiative where Virgil had caution. Virgil had gentleness where Remy had strength. Both so unique. Both so precious. Both somehow his. And he theirs.

He was reaping the very reward he wished to give to everyone with multiple soulmates. And it was sweet.

Janus subtly shifted position, careful not to wake either of his partners. They’d spent a late night and were now napping, leaving him the most lucky with getting to experience them laying on either side of him.

They’d started with ‘trapping’ him, each laying over one of his arms to prevent him from working, but it had quickly shifted into soft cuddles as they fell asleep. And despite his earlier protests, he didn’t truly mind in the slightest.

He wanted to buy a larger house, or at least a larger bed, as this one only barely contained them if none of them tried to roll over. He didn’t make much money, certainly not legally. So it was a rather futile dream, about as futile as his dream to one day marry them. But a man could dream.

Tagging @snowdice Since I used your Roll the Dice game to start this fic! 🥰

#my own work #sanders sides #virgil sanders #janus sanders #remy sanders #remus sanders #roll the poll #three bean soup

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