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indecisivemuch · 3 months

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~ Titles ~

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader

Summary: You are determined to steal the title of best swordsman from Luke. You proposed a spar, which led to unsuspecting confessions and an alternate proposal/offer. (fluff, pining, playful rivals to lovers, happy ending)

Warning: some sexual innuendos but nothing explicit. Violence? (you two sparred).

Note: he’s like one of my only age appropriate crush if I’m honest LMAO. The others are all much older 😭

Word count: 4k

You wanted many things. You wanted glory, you wanted to have the highest winning streak to capture the flag, and you also wanted Luke’s head on a stick…sometimes.

Oh yes, Luke has heard it all from your pretty mouth, and it does not get less amusing every time. In fact, the whole camp seemed to enjoy the banters between the two of you. At one point, it escalated to bets among campers on whether you or Luke would win against one another in things. Initially, both of you were shocked at the discovery. But when the surprise wore off, both of your competitiveness only amplified. Capture the flag became your guys’ war zone, and even silly things like who could finish chores quicker was a competition.

However, despite the rivalry being kind of playful, there was one thing you swore your heart upon winning - Luke’s title.

“Ah, well, if it isn’t the best swordsman,” you greeted as you spotted him approaching.

“If it isn’t the best flag captor,” indeed, you were always assigned to snag the flag due to your combat skills.

“And soon to be the best swordsman,” you added.

“You keep saying that but haven’t even gotten close.”

“I’m literally the second best.” The second those words left your mouth, you wished they didn’t. From the number of years you’ve known Luke, you could very well predict what he was going to say next, and because of that, you realized you just walked straight into his trap. You glanced up at the boy, only to see him already cheekily peering down at you with twinkles in his eyes - the sweet look of victory casting over his face.

“Ah, yes…second best,” the smugness interlacing Luke’s otherwise swoon-worthy voice made you scoff.

You never actually hate Luke, but neither were you two friends who hung out. You both were in different friend groups, rarely in the same space without making a quick remark or two, though they were all interlaced with a humorous undertone. There was a thin line between rivals and somewhat friends that you both mingled on without crossing. You would never tell him or admit it out loud, but Luke played a huge part in shaping who you are today as a Demigod. He constantly challenged you, which pushed you to take steps to become better. Over time, you two even slipped into a routine. You were each other’s sparring partners and, strangely enough, each other’s choice when it comes to quest partners.

You remember the first time Luke did it. Three years ago, you used to believe that he genuinely hated your guts and loved making fun of you for his own amusement. So when Chiron asked Luke to pick two companions for his quest, he named you without an ounce of doubt in his voice. You almost had a whiplash looking over at the boy who just called out your name.

“Not for long,” you settled on replying after rolling your eyes.

When you glanced back at him, Luke was giving you the look. The one where his lips were sculpted in a challenging and somewhat arrogant smirk, contrasting with the soft gaze that would always pair with it. It was as if he wanted you to know that despite his annoying habit of riling you up, he’d never cross any line that you would not let him, and he’d never push any buttons that you’d say were off limits. It was charming and sweet in a sense, though your mind dismissed that belief every single time and blamed it on your heart for being delusional. However, boy oh boy, your body reacted to it like Zeus has personally struck you with thunder every single time. Your lungs would collapse and malfunction for a second; your eyes would hold still and at him as if turned to stone by Medusa; your tongue seemed to have been frozen; your voice as if taken by Ursula. But amidst that mess, your heart would be beautifully embracing this feeling that it was harboring. It was something you never acknowledged or wanted to label because you knew it would be put into the universe as soon as you did that.

“I have a proposal,” you said, after forcing yourself out of that flustered state.

“I’m listening,” Luke crossed his arms, and you almost gulped at how they bulked up when he did so.

“We spar. If I win, I get the title of best swordsman. You win, you can get anything you want,” you named the terms.

“Anything?” Luke asked, tilting his head with amusement twinkling in his eyes as you confirmed by nodding. “Ok, deal,” he drew a hand out, prompting you to shake it, which you mindlessly did. Little did you know, Luke did it on purpose as an excuse to hold your hand, even if it was for only a split second.

It was sort of pathetic, and Luke knew it. But there was nothing else he could do. The only way he could ever touch you was either small actions like handshakes or getting punched by you. The latter happened more frequently as the two of you sparred together more. The both of you didn’t make a habit of hurting each other, but it was bound to happen when practicing combat.

As toxic and insane as it sounded, Luke was somewhat addicted to the infrequent pain that you were inflicting on him. One, because he got to feel your touch, albeit it was aggressive. Two, the worried look on your face - the closest he thought he would feel to you caring about him as much as he cared about you. Three, waking up the next day with purple bruises left by you, which, to him, was the only substitute for the type of purple marks he wanted you to leave on him.

“Alright, let’s do this,” you retracted your hand and got into position.

“Don’t you wanna know what I’d get if I win?” something in Luke’s eyes told you that whatever he had in mind was pure trouble, and he knew you had this urge to know everything. So you purposefully ignored asking about it.

“I don’t need to know, ‘cause that won’t happen anyway,” as you turned away, Luke let out a chuckle as his eyes softened at the sight of you. He knew that you know of the fact that he knows you well. Years of bantering and shy glances over your way when you weren’t aware has also taught him many things about you. Like how you prefer tabbing over highlighting your books, or how you’d always strike on the side first when combating others but would always change it up when it comes to him, or that your smile slightly tilted to the right when you are genuinely happy, or the fact that your love language was act of service because you were always going out of your way for the people you love.

At a far enough distance, you finally turned back at Luke but was caught off guard when you saw his sword already swinging at you. Years of practice forced your reflexes into action, and you caught his sword midair with your own.

“Woah, we never agreed that it started,” you yelled, pushing him and his sword away from you and yours.

“Do monsters wait for you to be ready during quests, sweetheart?” The mocking tone should not be affecting you the way it did, but it elicited this feeling of sheer annoyance and unleashed a hunger for victory. Luke got into a fighting stance as well, “Well then, ready whenever you are.”

You practically swung at him, and your swords clashed at an alarming rate to outsiders. But you two were experts at swordsmanship. Every move was quick and with ease. However, as Luke predicted, your eagerness to win was eroding your strategic senses. Taking advantage of this, he was planning to strike your armor next, aiming to create a mark on it. But you unexpectedly dodged down, and he was not prepared enough to change his course of action.

Within seconds of a gasp escaping your lips, Luke halted still as his jaw dropped in horror upon realizing what he had done. He called out your name, trying to come nearer to inspect the consequences of his action.

Thunder started sounding as the gray clouds finally cast water upon you two. You traced your hand along the mark that was left on your cheek, eying the blood that was now on your finger. As raindrops landed on your hand and diluted the substance, you realized your attacks in the last five minutes have been too impulsive and you needed to keep your emotions at bay.

“Y/N?” Luke called out again, though it reeked a new level of worry this time. Luke was afraid he had crossed a line. Despite sparring many times in the past, Luke had never caused harm to your face before. In fact, he has always been careful to minimize the injuries he would inflict on you.

Luke held back the urge to rub his hand over where his heart would be to soothe it as his mind wandered off to the possibility of you hating him genuinely and never wanting him around again. He never told you, but the reason he trained so hard to become the best swordsman - apart from for glory - was for you. He knew you were also good at it and hoped the title would make you notice him.

You averted your attention back to him and drew your sword up again.

“What? You’re scared you won’t be the only one who looks good with a scar on their face anymore?” you asked, arching your eyebrow.

“Oh, so you think I look good with the scar?” Luke bantered back, though you could tell there was an immense relief that he was feeling. Taking advantage of his distracted state, you struck again, but he managed to dodge just in time.

The fight went on for another twenty minutes. You were too focused to see, but Luke was surprised by how you chose to attack him this time. However, you miscalculated Luke’s next move and had to abruptly try to dodge his attack. But by taking a step back, you gave him the perfect chance to strike. Within seconds, he managed to disarm and send you to the ground.

Like the last thousands of spars, the tip of his sword ended up near your throat as an indication of checkmate. You knew you could make no more moves - definitely not without your sword. You lifted both hands up slightly in a motion of surrender, biting the inside of your cheeks as you peered up at him.

Right now, sweat and rain were dripping down the side of Luke’s face. They rolled down his scar - that goddamn scar that never failed to make you go borderline feral with visions of the kisses you’d bless them with if you were given the chance to. His dark, wet curls were clinging onto his forehead, and the same colored eyes gazed down at you. They were so cocky, almost condescending, yet so hot it made you want them to be kept on you forever.

You hated to admit it, but he looked so hot fighting you were willing to purposefully lose sometimes.

Little did you know, it drove him to the wall that you were peering up at him like this: cheeks flushed, heavy breath, and those goddamn eyes peering through your pretty lashes that could convince him to do absolutely everything you’d ask. The sight of you made Luke want to spill his guts and tell you everything he had been locking up inside his mind.

He extended one hand out to help you up. Like always, you accepted his offer and got up from the ground.

As you were about to let go of Luke’s hand, he slightly tightened his grip, and your heart fluttered at the action. He was staring at your guys’ hands in deep thought before softly rubbing his thumb across your fingers and knuckles. The way Luke delicately did so vastly contrasted with how he was fighting you during every spar. For a second, you wondered what it would be like to be loved by him and be held so tenderly.

“It’s okay, you know…” Luke spoke, breaking the peace from the sound of rain hitting the soil beneath them.

“What? Be defeated?”

“You may be the second-best swordsman in this camp-”

“Geez, thanks for reminding me that I’m only second best,” you playfully commented.

“But you’re first place...in here.” Luke pointed right at his heart using the hand that was not on yours. You stare at it with your mouth slightly agape.

“Stop playing around with me,” you almost stuttered, refusing to believe Luke was not trying to fool you for a quick laugh.

“I’m not,” Luke rebutted and pulled your hand towards his chest, causing your heart to flutter at the action. But unlike that small kick in your heart, when your palm lay between Luke’s hand and his heart, you could hear his heart beating like an engine that had lost control. Your jaw fell agape at the contact and the speed of his heartbeat. When you looked up at him, the earnest look on Luke’s face made you know that whatever he was planning to say was indeed from his whole heart.

“Third week at camp, I got knocked down by this much older kid during capture the flag, who wanted to maim me for some reason. You swept in, pushed him into the lake nearby and pulled me to run away with you before that kid could get out of the water and chase after us. It felt like I was lovestruck or something, but I could not keep my eyes off you after that. Somehow, you always draw my attention in any crowded room,” Luke blushed at his confession, shyly avoiding eye contact with you. “But after that, I think you sort of forgot who I was because you weren’t acknowledging me at all, and so the fifteen-year-old me thought maybe I needed to throw sarcastic remarks or say stupid things to make sure that my crush would remember me and know that I exist. Hence-”

“The banters,” you finished off for him.

“And the rivalry. It’s pathetic, I know,” Luke added.

You were in awe of viewing things from Luke’s perspective. Because from your side, you did remember that day very vividly. The reality was you were too nervous to interact with the boy again after the incident, growing shy at the thought of talking to a cute boy. So you pretended that nothing had happened.

“Fast forward to when I returned from that quest that gave me the dragon scar. People weren’t exactly different, but I could feel that they were somewhat tiptoeing around me as if I was…damaged,” Luke’s eyes hollowed for a second, and you could see that he was being sucked back into the memories. But his absent state of mind didn’t last long, and his eyes lit up again as the boy continued, “But you were the one thing that did not change. You didn’t treat me any differently. Your remarks and blunt insults became fresh air for me. I never told you, but every time we interacted back then - every time you talked to me, insulted me, or even looked at me, it felt like…I could finally breathe in that suffocating time period. Seeing you suddenly became necessary, and I think that was when I realized…”

With your hand on Luke’s chest still, you could feel his heart start beating even faster, if that was possible, as if trying to break free from his ribcage.

“I think that was when I realized I was in love with you,” Luke’s words came out as a whisper, like an oath too sacred to be said out loud. That is not to say he wasn’t afraid to shout it out from a rooftop. Luke just wanted his first time saying it to be for your ears only. For every single time after, Luke would make sure that his words and actions were heard loud and clear to you and others, if you would let him.

You almost could not believe your own ears. For the first time ever, you saw Luke look so vulnerable. He was usually so sure of himself, almost always overly confident whenever he was around you, just to irritate you with an inflated ego persona. But right now, it felt like the curtains were closing, and nothing was left but him with his heart in hand.

This was who Luke Castellan really was - under all the armor and titles.

And he was in love with you.

You opened your mouth to say something, but words froze. You weren’t sure what to say because you believe that whatever it is you utter out wouldn’t be able to top Luke’s words. You frowned as the sparks in Luke’s eyes dulled slowly. You could feel his hand keeping yours on his chest slipping slightly. At this, you flipped your hand around to hold his in place.

“Eleven months after you arrived at camp that I…” you paused, gulping as you tried to find the words, “This boy, he tore my favorite book apart because I defeated him during a spar and “embarrassed him” in front of everybody. He’s an absolute coward, too, because he brought his buddies along, knowing he would have never won one-on-one against me. So, he had his friends hold me still as he punched me in the face and stomach repeatedly.” Luke’s eyebrows furrowed at the story. Of course, he remembered the incident. He only wished he had been there when it happened rather than in the aftermath.

“You found me bloody and bruised while I was heading to the infirmary. I was convinced you hated me back then because of all the sarcastic remarks I thought were genuine insults. So I thought you would just ignore me. But no, you stopped me. For the first time ever, I saw who you seem to really be: this caring and protective person. You were stubborn and determined to know what happened, even though I said it was not a big deal. Then you wrapped up my wounds in the infirmary wordlessly and would not leave my side until you walked me back to my cabin, where I finally told you who was behind it all.”

“Then, the next day, I found a new copy of my favorite book, candy, and new book tabs on my bedside. Later that day, I found out that his whole friend group, including him, had their hair dyed bright pink with dozens of bruises and cuts on them, and they could not even look at me. And I just knew it was you who had done all this for me, which changed how I see you - and us.”

“Is that why you left me your dessert for a month straight? After I lost dessert privileges for maiming those guys?” Luke asked.

“I did no such thing,” you tried to lie. Indeed, you were the mysterious person who left desserts next to Luke’s bed for the month after the incident. Even though you never told him, he knew it was you, and the look he was giving you right now conveyed he very well did not believe your denial.

“What I’m trying to say, Luke Castellan…is I think my heart might be a little too fond of you as well,” Luke’s jaw dropped slightly at your words. His heart almost spiked completely, losing a beat as if you caused him to flatline from bliss. Then, something glossed over his eyes, and you fully recognized it. The glint of mischief always presented itself before he said something cheeky to you.

“You know, I think I’ll cash in my prize now. I did win after all,” Luke referred to your original spar deal. You huffed at his words and the cheeky grin he was offering you.

“Ah, right. So, what is it that you want?” Luke untangled his hand from yours and used both to cup your face slowly but surely.

“Hmm, you did say “anything”,” Luke muttered as he glanced down at your lips, which made you subconsciously licked them. However, your action made him let out a quivering breath. Even though it was somewhat dark, you could still see that his eyes were dilated. You were pretty sure yours were as well.

“Can I kiss you, Y/N?” Luke was holding your face like it was the world that he had in his palms.

“Yes,” you answered almost without hesitation, and he smiled at that. “Kiss me, Castellan,” you tugged Luke’s shirt, pulling him towards you, and almost immediately, he clashed his lips against yours.

Years of yearning were unleashed as you two practically melted in each other’s hold. The rain only added passion to the kiss, like fuel to the fire. Luke lightly backed you against a tree with one hand at the back of your head, shielding it from hitting the tree trunk too hard. Slowly, his other hand trailed down from your cheek to your hips. There were so many words he was seemingly trying to convey to you through his kiss. It was as if he was making a promise upon the love he intended to deliver to you.

One of your hands tangled in Luke’s curls, twirling them around your fingers like it was their intended purpose to exist for. The other was on his cheek, your fingers subconsciously rubbing over his scar ever so delicately, as if they were gold to be treasured rather than a blemish to be ashamed of. Luke faintly shivered at your action, growing ever so breathless at the way you touched him, wanting to scowl at himself for being affected in such a way.

Luke pulled away first, and you could not help but grin at the sight of him: swollen plump lips, messy dark hair, and a hue of pink dancing across his face. He cupped your face with both his hands again before leaving a small kiss on your cheek near where he had split your skin and drew blood.

“This doesn’t change anything, you know? It may not be today, but someday, I will get the title of best swordsman if it is the last thing I do. Me losing today does not mean I’m giving up,” you said, hands still playing with his hair lovingly despite the stubborn declaration.

“I would not expect any less,” Luke replied, though wanting to add ‘if anybody were to take this honorable title, I’d want it to be you,’ yet he did not utter his thoughts. You breathed out a chuckle at his words.

“And yeah, maybe someday you will get that title,” Luke paused, taking a deep breath. You could feel how his chest seemed to stutter as his cheek heated up.

“But for now, will you settle with the title of being mine?” you almost swooned at his words and the smile that he was giving you. If only you knew, he would give you all the titles you want: best swordsman, best counselor, his, and - if someday you would ever want it - his last name, as crazy as it sounded. Hell, maybe he’d take yours.

“Yes, only if you’d also have the title of being mine.”

“I’ll wear it with honor and never surrender it unless you ever deemed me unworthy of the title,” Luke replied, grinning down at you like he had no intentions of ever letting you go.

“Never,” you grinned up at him, hands cupping his face before drawing him into another kiss, sealing the deal of forevermore.

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#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #luke castellan oneshot #luke castellan #luke castellan fanfiction #pjo fic #pjo #charlie bushnell #pjo imagine #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo tv show #pjo series #rivals to lovers #happy ending #fluff

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ma1dmer · 6 months

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Call of Duty - Vladimir Makarov NSFW

the first time I went on a date with a slavic man my mother turned to me and told me "I didn't immigrate, for you to be going out with Ivan from the village" anyways, here is ivan from the village

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex): surprisingly he talks, he'll go on and on about the small things in his day to day, his shitty day, the things he's seen since he last saw you, his plans for the future ,especially if you speak his language, in the darkness of your room pressed against each other naked like that, he almost opens up to you

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s): he loves legs, he is a man who can appreciate a good high heel to elongate them, loves fucking you in the tights and heels combo, very particular about them too, he sees you walking around in a skirt with a slit up the thigh and heels and he's pulling you to him, asking if this is his present

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically): in the heat of the moment he's so into the idea of cumming on you, messing up that pretty face of yours or leaving his mark on you in a way, but the second that post nut clarity hits he is absolutely disgusted, quickly throws something for you to clean up with while wiping his hand

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs): he is a bit of a masochist, its just one of those things he'll never admit and you better not bring them up at any point in any conversation, but it gets him so riled up when you have the balls to slap him back, he doesn't encourage your behavior outside of very specific moments in the bedroom though, it's rare for him to actually allow it, but you can immediately tell when he's in one of those moods, he'll be lost in the feeling of you wrapped around his cock and suddenly yank your hand to wrap around his throat and growl at you to go on

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?): a man with a lot of experience, mostly anonymous hook ups here and there, so it's tough to get him to get used to an actual serious commited relationship, but it's nice, he won't complain with having someone to always warm his bed or wait for him to come back home

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying): the basics, on your back holding your legs as he fucks you, he'll kiss your forehead or cheek growling filth against your sweaty skin, if you turn away from his kisses he forces you to look at him, gets very petty about that

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.): serious and very very intense

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.): all natural, not particularly hairy but he doesn't do anything to it, he always smells very very strongly of cologne as well

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect): not exactly romantic, if you keep him content and his bed warm, he spoils you outside the bedroom, that's his way of showing he cares and his commitment to you, but he keeps his distance in general, he is a greedy greedy man, he wants your full attention but won't give you his unless he is forced to do so

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon): before he thinks of jacking off he first texts you, if you don't answer his texts, he calls you, asks you if you are busy, not really caring for any answer other than "no, my love, what do you want?" ,he'll be stroking himself through his pants as he asks you to come over or tells you he's about to pop in for a bit, if you happen to be busy he'd rather take a shower and wait for when when he can next see you again

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks): power dynamics, impact play, choking etc

L = Location (favorite places to do the do): he keeps his private business behind closed doors, can't stand the idea of other men ogling you

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going): a short skirt, high heels, red lipstick, play a bit of dress up for him, he's a simple man who can still enjoy the simple pleasures of life

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs): he does not share, he gets angry with you when another man looks at you, can't even comprehend the thought of bringing someone else in the bedroom, if you even suggest it, you are out, he's gone, and he's fucking every single woman within a 100 mile radius as revenge

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.): loves receiving, he is not particularly gentle with it though, he likes things very specifically so he orders you around or straight up moves your head like his personal fleshlight, he also enjoys having a finger or two in him while you give him head, won't talk about it outside the bedroom, but always lifts his hips up or straight up moves your hand to his ass when he fucks your mouth to let you do your thing

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.): rough and fast, he'll take his time to prepare you but once he's inside he's almost single mindedly chasing his own pleasure, you have to keep up with him and take matters into your own hand, enjoys the show greatly

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.): not a big fan, if he is at work, he is at work, you don't intrude during that time and he hates nothing more than an impatient brat

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.): not really, he likes things very particularly done, its difficult to convince him to do something new, he's not unmovable but if you insist too much he gets stubborn and will keep denying you

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?): it really depends on the context, how long since he last saw you? how pent up is he? after a success or a failure? how generous is he feeling that night? is he spending the night or needs to fly out in a couple of hours? everything moves with his schedule

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?): he's quite possessive and very self absorbed, he doesn't like the idea of you using them by yourself when he's gone, but can definitely be convinced with something he can control for you

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease): he is pretty straight forward, isn't so much a tease as he has a bit of a mean streak, he enjoys the little jump you make when you think he's gonna spank you ,but instead he just gently cups your ass or thighs, will smirk and ask you if you are scared of him or something, tells you to relax and stop being so tense, even though you have legit reasons to be worried

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.): grunts and groans and a lot, a lot of dirty talk, especially if he sees it gets a rise out of you, you'd expect him to be quieter but no not really, he makes these deep guttural grunts as he fucks you and curses up a storm, especially in russian

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character): he is a pussy slapper, he eats it with precision and great enjoyment, but he's so mean about it, will coo at you in russian when you flinch at his touch

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes): average length but very thick with a slightly thinner crown, very hard to adjust to

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?): very average, it's common to send you off with a wave of his hand if he is busy, but when the need arises in him he does expect you to drop everything for him

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards): this man is a little spoon, he will never admit it or ask, but every night he turns his back to you and expects you to hug him at some point

#call of duty #call of duty smut #call of duty x reader #makarov smut #makarov #makarov x reader #vladimir makarov #vladimir makarov smut #vladimir makarov x reader #modern warfare #modern warfare smut #modern warfare 3 smut #modern warfare 3 x reader #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw3 #cod mw2 #cod smut #cod mw3 smut #.writing

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l13 · 1 year

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i know this is a bit strange but i see none of this type of content for COD — 💧😭

i feel like alejandro and könig (maybe others) with a pregnant wife, concerned about the health of the baby feeds their wife a lot, to the point she maintains some of the weight after and they become a little enamored with it?

like a trophy remaining of how well they took care of their family, leaving a healthy baby and a plush, well fed wife

feel free to delete or ignore this if this is weird <3 love ur writing

oooh my god i love this that's so fucking cute!! I couldn't help but add price to this! Also added some random headcanons nd changed the request up a bit to the reader feeling a lil self-concious cause I know a lot of women struggle with that after giving birth. Btw thank you so much for your kind words!!<3

btw don't comment on the baby names i'm so bad at those

CHARACTERS : alejandro vargas, konig, john price

WARNINGS : female!reader, mentions of sex, fluff fluff fluff, pregnancy aftermath, stretch marks, weight gain, body image, reader being self-concious, reader hits vargas a lot (IT'S ALL IN GOOD FUN LMFAO)

WORD COUNT : 4k

♡ Alejandro vargas ♡

this man loved showing you off while you were pregnant let me tell you-

he'd be so attentive during your pregnancy (not that he wasn't before) even learning or remembering random facts

"Yeah she's nineteen weeks as of yesterday. Well, I can tell you what she wasn't doing nineteen weeks ago- Agh- mi vida that hurt!"

you couldnt count the times youd have to tell him to stop talking when someone would comment on your pregnancy or congratulate you both-

"I know right?! I did that-"

Buys the most random shit for your baby, "...What's that." alejandro pauses the haul showcase when you point at a hat in between all the other clothes and toys he'd gotten (yes he went shopping alone, he's that obsessed) "Ah, that's a bucket hat!" you will your eye to stop twitching and take a deep breath knowing this is just your hormones making you act so pissy "Yes I know." your tone turns out to be colder than you'd anticipated but seeing him unfazed you continue, bringing your attitude down a notch, "Baby," your smile is forced as you look up at him, hand over your bump rubbing circles on it, "That looks like a fucking replica of Price's hat." A pause. A bark of laughter, "Holy shit! It fucking does!"

"At least, think about it cariño!" "We are not naming our child Price, Vargas, get yourself together!" idk i just have this headcanon that price and him became the best of buds

price obv became the godfather "Ha! Look at that! His fore'ead 's almost as big as yours!" "The fuck did you just say to me?" LMFAOOOO

(is it a headcanon or do i have to involve price everywhere because he's slowly taking over all of my thoughts?hm.)

honestly vargas always loved how cheeky you were but during your pregnancy you were a menace. He always masked it with a chuckle or a smile, knowing that it's just your hormones talking, but he was scared shitless.

After some time he got used to your attitude so much that he grew to love it, finding humor in your jabs and in turn that made you soften quicker, feeling bad about your behavior towards him, always showering him with kisses after (you don't know it but he manipulated you into being nice to him)

but yeah he also found it extremely hot and you noticed, so much so that when after you gave birth you'd always act a bit more bratty in bed just to rile him up<3

and yup he absolutely loved to take care of you and watch you and your belly grow- a healthy wife was a healthy child after all and he had to remind himself that you were pregnant each time he found himself behind you, squeezing and fondling your body saying how much he loved you like this-

"Alejandro!" your loud steps echoed throughout the house, stomping down the stairs to find your husband sitting on the couch watching tv, legs spread and all, and if you weren't mad at him you'd jump him right at that moment. He stopped munching on his sandwich, turning to look at you with a startled expression, a wobbly grin forming in his mouth, "What is it, cariño?" his eyes momentarily snapped to your son, who was currently playing with his blocks on the carpet a few feet away from him- well, he seemed fine so what was the issue?

You clicked your tongue, feet dragging you right in front of him, and you snatched his sandwich to place it on the plate right next to him, "Hey!-" "Look at me!" you whined as you outstretched your arms and his eyebrows furrowed, "I am!". You sighed exasperated, and threw a leg over each thigh as you sat on him and he sputtered, surprised, hands coming to rest on your hips nonetheless. You let another dramatic groan as you let your forehead fall on his, "You did this to me,"

He grabbed the back of your head with one hand, fingers massaging your scalp as he tried to assess the situation "Cariño, I'm gonna be honest with you- I don't know what the fuck you're talking about," your hand shoved his shoulder playfully as you warned him "Not in front of Pedro," he raised his arms in defeat, and you sighed again "Look at what you did to my body, and don't tell me you don't remember shoving food down my throat for nine months or I will skin you alive." his posture relaxed a bit, hands resting on your thighs, a shit eating grin forming on his lips.

"I do remember doing that.. and so what? You look great, mi vida, so fucking sexy," his eyes roam your body, hands squeezing the supple skin of your thighs and you squirm on his lap "You asshole, you planned this didn't you?" you slapped his hand away when he tried to cup your breast and he licked his lips, eyes sparkling devilishly, tapping your lips with his finger twice "No swearing in front of the kid, remember?"

"Oh, you fu-". Pedro's gurgles of happiness as he studied both his parents stopped you from hitting your husband for the second time today, and instead your hand came down to pat his shoulder, smiling at your son innocently as Alejandro chuckled in your neck. "It's about time he ate," he cocked his head towards Pedro as he whispered, knowing full well the tantrum his son would throw if he heard him talk about food. You smiled softly as you nodded, momentarily amusing your son, for the five seconds he had his attention on you, with random silly faces, feeling accomplished when he gave the cutest huffed out laugh.

When you turned your head back to Alejandro, he was already looking at you, eyes filled with love and affection, hand coming up to caress your cheek and you leaned into his touch, sighing. "I love you."

"I love you," you whispered back, leaning in to press a kiss on his lips, his hum of appreciation clouding your mind " and thank you for taking care of me, baby," he smiled at that, really smiled, "Always, cariño." he stood up suddenly, his hands under your thighs holding you up, and you gasped, holding on to him for dear life as he twirled around with you in his arms, putting a show for your son as he maneuvered you both into the kitchen, laughter filling the house once again.

"We do need to go shopping though, because none of my clothes fit."

"You're welcome to walk around naked-Ouch!" he pouted as you flicked his forehead

♡ König ♡

oh, would you look at that, yet another cod character obsessed with you being pregnant!

no, seriously though, this big bear is loving you all round with his child inside you- god knows how many times he had to take care himself in the bathroom because he saw you doing some stupid yoga exercises in the morning, "Ah, bear there you are! Could you hold my legs up please?" You were trying to kill him, there was no other explanation.

I just know that König worries so much during your pregnancy, he once caught you bringing groceries alone and almost passed out (you weren't even showing yet). He forbade you from going out of the house alone, after that.

Goes with you to all your doctor's appointments, his leg bouncing repeatedly and you had to hold his hand so he'd stop fidgeting. "I'm sorry, which one of you is pregnant again?" Safe to say, könig didn't find the doctor funny, as he sat next to you, brooding silently.

And guess what, you were having twins!!! Now you were both nervous. And in the start of your third trimester, you were exhausted and it was taking a toll on your mental health. He once found you in the kitchen, sobbing because you couldn't even bend down to look in the oven, and it had taken him almost two hours to calm you down by which time he'd already shed some tears of his own. (He really hated seeing you this way)

"Liebling did you get your vitamins?" "You have to take your vitamins in two hours." "YOU FORGOT THEM?!! CALL THE DOCTOR!". "König it's fine-"

Always makes runs to the store if you ask for something specific, making sure you get your fill at whatever you were craving, he's literally perfect

Almost had a panic attack cause he couldn't find your hospital bag when he wanted to add more stuff in it. You almost shit your pants as he came running to you, stumbling over his feet, and you calmly explained to him that it was literally under the bed. "Ah, right!" :D LMFAOO

Loves giving you belly rubs and kisses, cuddle time is much more frequent, with him always being the big spoon, saying how he wants to be able to hug you and your children at the same time, his hands draped over your body, as he laid kisses on your hair softly "Goodnight, my loves.."

Ghost and Soap came by one day to drop off some early gifts for the little ones and König almost tackled them to the ground bc he thought they were intruders help💀 you stayed mad at him for one week after that

MY MAN IS STRESSED, he swears these 9 months took 10 years off his life at the least

You and König were in a bit of a.. disagreement to say the least. It was a couple of months after you gave birth to two healthy baby girls, and you were starting to feel a little.. self-concious. The weight you'd gained after you carried two people inside of you for nine months, was quite the difference to how your body looked before that. And you still didn't know how to feel about it.

Well, one thing you knew was how your husband felt, though. During your pregnancy you could count on your fingers the time you've been intimate with each other, not even going all the way, ever. At first you thought it was because of how stressed the both of you had been- that there was no time for that. But then you'd been woken up countless times in the middle of the night, hearing König's sighs and moans coming from the bathroom, and you'd close your eyes shut each time, biting your lip to stop yourself from crying. Of course he didn't like you like this.

So that's why you were looking at gym classes on your laptop when König came in the room, and he frowned when you told him what you were looking at. He started pouting, trying to talk you out of it saying the time you're going to spend at the gym is gonna steal precious time from him and your daughters. That's how you got here, now both of you standing as you argued.

"The girls are only eight months old! I don't understand why you need to do this."

"Because I want to, König! I don't like how I look anymore- I don't feel like myself-" your voice broke as you spoke and it was as if a switch flipped inside Konig's mind as he walked to you, towering above you and you shifted in your feet, suddenly nervous. Without a word, he grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the office, walking with big strides to the bathroom, where he placed you in front of him, both of you looking at your reflections in the mirror.

You knew where he was going with this and you scoffed, turning to leave but his arms on your shoulders kept you in place. "I don't know what brought this on, liebling, and I will support whatever you decide to do. But.. I need you to know that I love you, and you should love yourself too. You just gave birth not long ago, it is natural-" he got cut off as you wiggled yourself out of his grasp, hand coming up to rub at your arm nervously "Don't lie to me, König. Not now."

You made the mistake to look up at him, seeing his eyebrows pulled together, a look of distress painting his face "What? I'm not- I would never-"

"Just, stop. I know you've been... taking care of yourself this past year," you trail off, not knowing how to go about with this, and seeing his look of recognition, his ears turning pink gave you the proof you needed "..and I don't blame you! I understand, just don't stand there and lie to me just to make me feel better."

You watched as he stumbled backward, blinking rapidly as he processed your words.

"My love.. what do you expect me to do with you walking around the house with just my shirts and no pants on, for the entire 9 months you were pregnant?" you didn't know how to answer that, so you just stared at him dumbly and he smiled shyly, "I didn't want to bother you with that, liebling.. Besides, what do you think I was thinking about each time I.. touched myself? It was always you. You and how absolutely delicious you'd look everyday, my pretty angel." you got so lost in his words that you didn't notice that he'd walked up to you, backing you up against the counter and you gasped, "But... don't you miss... how I was before?"

He seemed to ponder at your question for a moment, tilting his head cutely to the side and then bent down to grab you by the back of your thighs to place you on the counter, brushing his lips against yours. "Nope," he grinned "Why would I think about how you were before.. when this is how you look right now?" he hissed, hands roaming your sides, rubbing, savoring.

He squeezed the soft skin of your plush belly slightly and he let out a low moan, hips grinding up against your body "So fucking sexy... and all mine. My perfect wife." you whimpered, placing your legs around his waist, "If you don't take me to bed right now, I'll lose all the weight I've gained and mor-" you gasped at the speed in which he pressed you flush against his body, walking towards your shared bedroom while he placed open mouthed kisses on your neck, and he growled in warning "Don't you dare."

"I mean, unless that's what you want to do-"

"Shut up and kiss me."

"Yes ma'am!" :D

♡ John price ♡

let me just start of by saying no matter how much price loves having you pregnant, he also loves getting you pregnant (i'm sorry i had to)

like you can't tell me that this man doesn't have the biggest breeding kink to ever exist, and when you finally told him you want to start a family with him- he had to sit down,

kept staring at you with that wide eyed puppy look of his, and that was the first time ever that you heard price stutter in your entire life "A-are you sure? That's a big step.. No! No, no no, I do want to, it's just-"

how was he supposed to tell you that while you were talking about how you'd have to renovate the guest room and turn it into a baby room, the color of the walls, he could only think of bending you over right then and there and filling you up till you were crying for more. DAMN ANYWAY I GOT SIDETRACKED OK

but yes ok let's just say that the baby making part is done so i could continue with the actual request- thank you brain

"Fuck," you bit your lip harshly, hand coming up to rest on your forehead as you looked at yourself in the mirror. It was quite a sad sight actually, your old jeans reaching just under the middle of your thigh and you suddenly felt a huge lump on your throat. How could you let this happen? "Fuck."

In truth, you weren't that bummed about gaining weight, you got pregnant, you had a human being inside of you for nine months, and now that devil is out of you- you're still sporting those extra pounds. It was all natural and you knew it. But fuck, did it made you feel like utter shit. The fact that you gave birth, and you still had this reminder of the near hell you've been through, all the stretch marks that were formed on your skin for life, but now the weight too? You wanted your old body back.

You bit the inside of your cheek as you tugged the clothing off your legs harshly, almost bursting in tears when you couldn't get them off your legs the first time seeing as you were tugging them off like a mad woman. You heaved as you finally got them off, throwing them next to the rest of the pile on the floor, pausing before you got to grab the next pair once you heard the bedroom door open as a satisfied chuckle filled the room.

"She's out. Ava's Out cold, love. I bet this time she ain't gonna wake up once, I tell you!" John's voice was high pitched and giddy, and you smiled so hard your cheeks hurt, momentarily forgetting your earlier thoughts as you turned to face him, rolling your eyes as you saw him lean on the door behind him, arms crossed, eyes crinkling and mouth grinning.

He eyed you up and down, in all your 4-day shirt and granny underwear glory "What's this then? If I knew you missed me that much, hon', I'd insinuated this way earlier but-" his words trailed off as he noticed the pile of clothes on the floor and he frowned, pushing himself in an upright position as he walked to you, holding his hand out in question "You doin' laundry? Why didn't you let me know, I would have-"

"I'm not doing laundry, baby, I'm throwing these out." his hands snaked around your waist once he stood in front of you and his eyebrows rose, head tilting to study the pile on the floor once more, "You're jokin'. Whatever the fuck for?" you laughed at that leaning in to give his bearded cheek a kiss as he hummed, ultimately giving you time to think of an excuse, "They just don't look good anymore.." You didn't look good anymore-

John scoffed, untangling himself from your embrace to pick up a pair of pants from the floor, "Now that's a load of shit, love," he stretched out the material as if analyzing it, nodding to himself once the image of you in them entered his mind "Cause I know for a fact that your bum looks great in 'em" he maneuvered around you to lay a slap on your ass and you yelped, giggling into his mouth as he pressed you up against him- the clothing thrown back down long ago- "What's this really about, hm?"

You sighed, leaning your head on his chest as he engulfed you in his arms, "I'm not how I was... before Ava." you felt his hum rumble deep from his chest, and it did sound understanding but most of all it sounded... appreciative. "Go on.." his hands slid down your back to your curves, to then rest on your ass, squeezing the flesh in his palms, pushing you against him as he laid kisses on your temple, his beard grazing your skin.

"A-and well..." your train of thought lost as you felt his bulge press up against your lower belly through his pants, and you swallowed harshly. "And my pants don't fucking fit 'nd I'm just gonna throw them out-" once again, you felt his chuckle before you heard it, and you raised your head to look at him, brows furrowing, a pout forming on your lips. "Ts alright love, you'll get new pairs, we'll go shoppin' tomorrow if you want-" you clicked your tongue, pushing yourself away from him slightly as you sighed, annoyed.

Annoyed at yourself for even feeling this type of way, annoyed that you couldn't explain your feelings to him without embarassing yourself, annoyed that he thought you cared for some fucking pants.

"I don't care about that-" the way you hissed out the words was ice cold and you immediately felt bad as his eyebrows shot up, his hands squeezing your sides, not letting you go just yet. You rolled your tongue over your teeth as you avoided his gaze, seemingly finding interest in a loose thread handing from the side of his shirt, hand coming up to tug it loose but he grabbed your hand in his, bringing it up to his lips to press a kiss on your knuckles. "Hey.. darlin', look at me."

Suddenly all previous feelings came rushing down as you looked up at him, eyes glossy and chin already wobbling and he tutted, cooing down at you as he let your hand go to grasp both of your cheeks in his palms, thumbs caressing your skin as you sniffled, your own hands snaking around his back tightly.

"Now, if I'm mistaken at any point, you can stop me an' tell me to go to hell, but don't yell too loud so we don't wake up the lil' one, yeah?" john rasped out, smiling softly, as you cracked a smile at his attempt to lighten up the mood, "Right.. well how do I say this.. I'm fuckin' pissed love." your mouth parted as you gaped at him, brows furrowing even more as you stared at his pretty eyes, "That's all my work you're hatin' on!!" he grumbled, placing a kiss on your nose and you stared at him, baffled. Huh?

"This is... about your body.." he waited for your soft nod before continuing "..not looking the same, right?" you nodded again and he scoffed, "How. dare. you." he softly patted your cheeks with his palms on either side of your face at each word, his eyes stern as he looked down at you and you couldn't help but giggle again, "John!-"

"No, no. How could you, ay? 've been feeding you for months and now you're sayin' you don't like your body anymore?" he clicked his tongue, hands sliding down to hold both your arms shaking your body back and forth lightly , "This body h's given birth to Ava, to our daughter, can you believe that? You, you did that. And now you wanna hate on it? Give yourself a break love, please." his words were so genuine, you could see it in his face, how his brows were furrowed, eyes showing how hurt he was by the whole ordeal and your heart clenched.

"Not to mention, I really was feedin' ya like everyday was the last day you were ever allowed to eat, wasn't I?" you barked out a laugh at that, and he joined you, letting his forehead fall on your own, "You really were.." he chuckled deeply, squeezing you harder in his arms that it was almost impossible to breathe. "You have to know that I don't care about any of that, right?" you smiled and leaned in to kiss him,

"Now I do.." he almost missed you mutter those words as they were said into his lips but he didn't. He heard them. And the gasp he let out was way too dramatic, and you laughed it off, "Don't tell me-! You- you thought- you thought I didn't find you attractive?" he boomed and you had to shush him, barely able to contain your laughter as you told him to shut up hurriedly.

Next thing you realize, you're upside down, thrown over his shoulder as he slaps your ass, setting you down on the bed not a second later and you gasp, as he crawls on top of you, eyes dark and primal. Oh, shit. Oh, fuck.

"You asked for this, love. 'S Time I reminded m'wife how much I love her and her beautiful body, hm?"

2023 © l13 | Do not steal, copy, edit, translate or re-post any of my works.

this isn't even what anon asked for but I got way into this and I couldn't stop

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spiriteddreams · 4 months

Text

thinking about sassy and teasing boxer!wrio... f!reader, slightly cheesy flirting (as you can imagine)

thinking about boxer!wrio, a frequent at the gym that your father, former lawyer neuvillette, owns. you decide to spend some more time with your father to help run the gym when you meet wriothesely, the sassy, uncrowned champion of the boxing ring.

initially he takes no care that you’re around, he figures you’re just someone neuvillette ended up hiring to help out around the place part time. you’re interesting, he’ll give you that, with the way you walk around far too comfortably as if you know the place like the back of your hand. and you talk to neuvillette with such familiarity, dare he say informality, that he can’t help but wonder who you are. and the moment he discovers that you’re his neuvillette’s daughter, suddenly he’s even more intrigued. and he can’t help but start talking to you more, about school and work and everything in between. he tries to get you to call him “your grace,” the nickname he’s garnered after climbing up the ranks but each time, you roll your eyes and tell him off. it only spurs him further.

but conversation continues with each time you meet and he tells you about what he’s what to outside of the ring, while slowly taking note of all the little things you say and your mannerisms when you’re grinning up at him from behind the front desk or when you’re watching him and some of the others train in the ring. and after awhile, he can’t help but start to like you, not just because you’re pretty, but also because you don’t take his shit. and even when you do, you throw it back right in his face.

“take your words to the ring, i have no intention of humoring you, wriothesley,” you sigh behind the front desk computer, which hides an open notebook full of notes and annotations. he loves the way his name sounds from your lips, drawing out each syllable as if trying to taste it. you say his name with exasperation and slight annoyance, but he can still catch that hint of amusement in your tone.

his flirty approaches might have initially been met with a flustered look on your face, but not you don’t even bat an eye at his sly comments. neuvillette however, shoots wrio a glare everytime he starts to say something he thinks could be flirtatious.

boxer!wrio, who comes in one early morning to help bring in some new equipment for the gym. and you’re sitting with your father at the front, drinking water and chatting when wrio walks in, shirtless, muscles on full display, sweaty and oh so gorgeous and you can’t help but choke on your drink, so clearly staring at the view.

“put on a shirt young man!” neuvilette’s thundering voice echoes throughout the room.

and much to his dismay, wrio is feeling particularly dangerous that day and says, “but i think she’s quite enjoying the view.” you feel your face warm as your father glares at you before turning back to give wrio a piece of his mind, already telling him off as he follows the boxer towards the back room where he can place down the boxes and then be chewed out by your father. but wrio thinks it’ll all be worth it because your expression was priceless.

he's used to people ogling him when he's training or fighting in the ring, whether or not he has a shirt on. but he can't help but sneak a look whenever you're around, trying to catch your wandering eyes to see if you're eyeing him too. and when he does catch you, he straightens up, tilts his head and throws you an arrogant smile.

"see something you like, princess?" he calls out boldly. other customers either look away or chuckle at the now familiar sight and sound of wrio's teasing. the times when neuvillette is there, he snaps at the boxer sharply then turns to you, eyes twitching with annoyance as he tells you to get back to work. you know he means well, and you know wrio only does it to rile up your father. and to flirt, you suppose.

boxer!wrio, who, one afternoon on his way out, makes sure to stop by the front desk to linger around you. it just so happens that you’re getting ready to leave for the day. fresh from a rinse with hair dripping wet and wolfish grin plastered across his face, wrio leans over the front desk, cocky as ever and asks if you’d like to grab a bite with him. he catches sight of the way your eyes narrow and quickly flicker over to where your father stands on the other side of the gym, working with another customer. for a second he thinks you might bail, but much to his delight your shoulders loosen and you smile at him and say, “where are we off to, your grace?”

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! <3 a/n: i have SO many more boxer!wrio thoughts to share hehe

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley #genshin impact wriothesley #spiriteddreams writing #spiriteddreams

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thirstworldproblemss · 10 months

Note

Favorite moon Knight fics??

Fav Moon Knight Fics you say....?

It's possible I might have a few so freakin' many, 'nonny, you don't even know...

List Notes:

Fics are Sorted by type of pairing, then alphabetically by Title

Uses AO3 Ratings: General audiences - Teen & up - Mature - Explicit

Check your Content Settings if you're 18+ and want to be able to see mature content (Settings -> scroll down to Content You See -> Community Labels -> Mature -> show)

Graphics: MK header is mine; adorable moon & stars divider by @straywords

Links sometimes misbehave on desktop–If none of the links are working, try opening in dashboard mode (click the eye-shaped button in the far top right)

— MK System x Reader — .

B-Roll by @heybluechild [ Marc x F reader, 2.2k, E, oneshot ] Summary: You and Marc make a sex tape. (smut, humor)

Chocolate by @bits-and-babs [ Steven x F reader, 6.1k, E, oneshot ] Summary: After weeks of pining for your coworker Steven Grant, sharing chocolate over a late shift causes sparks to fly. (pining, soft smut)

Disaster [ao3] by @softlyspector [ Marc-centric MK system x F reader, 6k, T, oneshot ] Summary: Marc's mental health takes a turn for the worse when you give him some news. After chasing him to Chicago, you, Steven, and Jake are left to pick up the pieces. (heavy angst--mind the warnings!, angst with a hopeful ending)

The First Time by @youvebeenlivingfictional [ Marc x F reader, 3.2k, E, oneshot ] Summary: The first time you and Marc catch one another in a tight spot, you both make it out by the skin of your teeth. You’re both wounded; you’re both riled up as all hell. (violence, angry smut, feeeeeeelings)

Gift of Min & Redux [ao3] by @astroboots [ Steven x F reader x Marc (x Jake), 21k, E, twoshot ] Summary: Marc brings back a trinket from his trip that may or may not contain an ancient sex god/aphrodisiac. Either way, Marc’s not telling, and it’s for you and Steven to find out. (Smut, sex pollen)

Idling by @juneknight [ Jake-centric MK system x F reader, 10k, E, in progress as of 7/6/23 ] Summary: Jake keeps having to front for Marc and Steven's new girlfriend. (angst--mind the warnings!, promises of future smut)

keep your vigils on the road [ao3] by @charnelhouse [ Steven x F reader x Marc (x Jake), 4.2k, E, oneshot ] Summary: They’re on the run. It’s kind of a vacation. (smut, violence)

Killing me by @astroboots [ Jake x F reader (x Steven/Marc), 2.4k, E, oneshot ] Summary: Jake takes it “easy” on you after a long night with Steven. (smut)

Moon Struck [ao3] by @softlyspector [ MK system x dancer F reader, 43.3k, E, series ] Summary: Steven asks you out, Marc falls in love (slowburn, some angst with a happy ending, eventual smut)

No fish were harmed in the making of this meet-cute by @writefightandflightclub [ Marc Spector x F reader, 2.1k, G, oneshot ] Summary: You have a dilemma. You don’t want to sell the man any more fish. But you do want him to keep coming back to your shop 👀 (fluff, humor, angry meet cute)

Obsessed by @juneknight [ Marc x F reader, college AU, 7.2k, E, twoshot in an ongoing series ] Summary: Marc likes eating pussy and offers to eat yours. (smut, college roommates AU) ...Honestly, I probably could have listed ALL of Dorm Room Marc here. Other Favs: The Thing About Marc Spector, Pushing Buttons, Sweet Requitement

Pornstar MK Boys: Marc, Steven, Jake by @runa-falls [ MK system x F reader, porn star AU, 3.0k, E, threeshot ] Summary: as a fluffer, it’s your job to know how to keep the boys interested. each alter has their own preferences (porn star AU, smut)

Shadow of a Doubt by @writefightandflightclub [ Marc x F reader x Steven (x Jake), 7.1k, E, oneshot ] Summary: Marc was first. Steven was second. Khonshu’s never going to love you. …And you’re wondering if Jake will ever get there at all. (relationship/character exploration, some smut, angst with a hopeful ending)

Sting by @bits-and-babs [ Marc x F reader, 3.5k,E, oneshot ] Summary: Marc relies on your amateur skills to patch him up following a brutal fight. (blood, smut, pain kink)

Stone Heart by @magpie-to-the-morning [ Steven x demisexual F reader, 1.5k, T, twoshot ] Summary: Maybe Steven’s one-sided friendship isn’t so one-sided after all... AKA a Moon Knight Pygmalion AU (fluff, romance)

Take Care of You by @tropes-and-tales [ Steven x F reader x Marc, 3.8k, E, oneshot ] Summary: For Steven, it was love at first sight. For Marc, it was a slower thing. (smut, feeeeeeelings)

Where To, Miss? by @foxilayde [ Jake x F reader, E, 7.5k, oneshot ] Summary: Jake Lockley is your driver, escorting you safely in your nighttime travels. There’s something about him. Tonight, you’re going to find out what that something is. (violence, blood, and surprisingly soft smut)

— Intra-MK System Pairings — .

All this time I was just waiting for you by @nakimochiku [ Steven x Marc, E, 20.6k, complete ] Summary: Things never seem to go Steven’s way romantically. Marc helps him work on that. (pining, smut with feeeeeeelings)

in the aftermath by queenie [ Steven x Marc x Jake, E, 37.5k, complete ] Summary: Having his own body is strange (separated into their own bodies after the show AU, slow burn, eventual smut)

last night i watched myself sleep by sweaterlou [ Steven x Marc, E, 19.4k, complete ] Summary: A look into Marc and Steven's relationship progression; from sharing a body to sharing a bed. (pining, smut)

the loneliest number by unstuckintime [ Steven x Marc, 9.6k, E, complete ] Summary: The problem with Steven is that he wants so much and he’s so lonely. He’s so lonely and he asks Marc for it all the time. (smut, feeeeeeelings)

making two reflections into one by marin27 [ Steven x Marc, 101k (as of 9/22/22) , M , incomplete ] Summary: After falling into the sands of Duat, Steven is sent back in time to fix things. He may or may not end up fixing the wrong, but no less important, things. (TL;DR: The fic where Steven fixes his relationship with Marc as the Moon Knight plot happens in the background.) (back in time redo AU, slowburn, pining, feeeeeeelings)

Our Body by apartment [ Marc x Steven, 1.4k, E, oneshot ] Summary: There are benefits to sharing a body, Steven realizes, especially when getting kidnapped is commonplace these days. Or: the "you don't have him; he has you" meme, plus marc's attempts at being a boyfriend (violence, smut)

paths diverted by solarzenith [ Steven x Marc, separate bodies, 6.8k, E, oneshot ] Summary: Khonshu reanimates them, with an ultimatum: come back as one, or come back separate. Marc makes the decision readily, too easily, and Steven had no idea Marc wanted him out of their head so badly. (pining, angst with a happy ending, smut)

see through my act, tell me I'm wrong by snapdragonpop007 [ Marc/Jake x Steven, 31k, T, complete ] Summary: “Leave him alone,” Marc scowled up at Jake from the reflection on the tiled floor. Jake ignored Marc and made a beeline right towards the gift shop as The Man In The Gift Shop Named Steven got back to his feet and went back to the register. “Jake if you go in there I swear to god—” (Steven gets a separate body AU, slow burn, feeeeeeelings)

— Canon / MK System x Layla El Faouly — .

do not enter is written on the doorway (but you can stay) by FlowerCitti [ incidental Marc x Layla x Steven, 19.8k, M, complete ] Summary: When it came to heroes and other vigilantes, Marc didn’t have any interest in interacting with them. He travels with Khonshu’s will, continuing to protect those under the moon and following through with Khonshu’s severe judgments. He kills and keeps Khonshu content and fed, shielded under the darkness of night and the flickers of the moon. (Or, Marc meets the Avengers. And then gets shot in the head.) (plot-centric MCU crossover)

Marc/Layla Ficlet by @writefightandflightclub [ Marc x Layla, 0.3k, T, oneshot ] Summary: How did Marc tie the knot with Layla? (mild angst)

not quite a meet-cute by notmadderred [ MK system-centric, Marc x Layla x Steven, 8.3k, T, complete ] Summary: Layla meets Jake and things get complicated for both of them. (character exploration & bonding)

so this could be the death of me (or maybe just a better me) by @quinnathy [ MK system, Marc x Layla mention, 25k, T, complete ] Summary: One time Marc saves Steven, one time Jake saves Marc, and one time Steven saves Jake. (And so forth.) (character exploration and bonding, some angst)

To Sleep by @radiowallet [ Steven/Marc x Layla, 1.2k, T, drabble series, ongoing ] Summary: Sometimes Steven dreams. For Marc it's a nightmare. Layla El-Faouly does not sleep. (angst, yearning, mentions of canon-typical violence)

— Canon / Gen (no Pairing) — .

Jake's not very good, very bad day. No worse than that by Beyney [ Jake-centric, gen (no pairing), 6k, T, oneshot ] Summary: The Avengers think Moon Knight just has no marbles left to lose. The system is not amused. Khonshu is gleeful, and Jake just doesn't want to deal with this shit anymore. At least the god will keep bringing him back if this mission goes way more sideways than it already has, right? ...Right? (MCU crossover, Jake whump, violence/death mention, does some of the MCU crew a little bit dirty for the sake of the story)

That's all I've got for you for now, 'nonny, but this is definitely a non-exhaustive list. I've read so many wonderful MK fics, I'm sure I've missed some that should've been on here and will no doubt discover even more amazing stories in the future. Chances are I'll wind up coming back to add to the list, and you all should feel free to reblog/reply/send me an ask with your fav MK fics!!

Thank you for the ask, dear anon friend! And thank you for being patient with me—it turns out I have a lot more fav MK fics than I originally thought, and it took me a little while to get this list together. Hopefully they'll be something new-to-you here for you to enjoy! 💕

🧡 twp

Want more to read? Check out my other Author, Fic, & Fanwork Recs

#oi stuff #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley #moon knight #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockely x reader #marc x layla #steven x layla #marc x steven #fic recs #fic rec list #thirstworldproblemss #twp rec list #q

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no1deepspacehater · 1 month

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NSFW ABC's - Xavier !

A/N: Zayne is up next for this one! Minors look away ofc! Also some minor spoilers in letters E and K

Enjoy!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Mostly, he’s so ready to sleep, but if that doesn’t fit your needs, he stays up for you. Need a shower? He’ll help you wash up. Something to eat? He’s not the best cook but cereal after sex always hits the spot anyways.

His most preferred aftercare is after a cold shower, you both just cuddle each other to sleep. You’re his favourite teddy bear to hold.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

For him, his arms. Strong and buff from years, and I mean years, of sword practicing. Upper body strength of the Gods, perfect for holding you up with he fucks you against the wall, or just caging you in while you ride him. Grip his arms in any position and he’s beaming.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Moderate amount when he cums BUT he leaks. One stroke and his dick is wet. Prefers to cum inside/with a condom just because it gets sticky and messy, but is SO more than down if you want him to cum anywhere else.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

While masturbating has accidentally came on one of the plushies you gave him. He fell asleep right after and it left a stain he couldn’t wash out. Said plushie is now hidden away where you’ll never find it, and when you ask him about it he always says he lost it.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

SPOILERS FOR HIS LORE!

Ok so here’s my headcanons, he’s either:

Has NEVER had sex because, well, he only wants you. Probably doesn’t watch porn for the same reason. Most knowledge he’s have is conversations with close friends but no hands on work.

HAS had sex before, but with previous lifetimes/timelines of you. Kinda more fun to work with this one because, he’d know all your sensitive spots, even ones you don’t know about. He’d now just how to rile you up and have you seeing literal stars.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

When he has energy or is in that type of mood: variations of missionary, I feel like he’d be into wall sex.

Other than that, as long as your on top of him and he could see your face, he’s happy. Sometimes he’ll let you do your thing while he’s being a little pillow princess, othertimes he’s the one in absolute control even though you’re above him.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Always light giggles here and there because you both are being so cute. Sometimes though he’s not serious but he gets in this focused/locked in type of mode when you both are having particularly passionate sex.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

HEAR ME OUT HERE!! Rarely clean shaven just because he’d literally rather sleep. It’s not a jungle, but definitely had to start keeping it lower when you both do start to get intimate. I’d say once a week at least, once every two weeks at least. Now listen closely, he’s got a happy trail, nobody argue with me. His hair down there is a bit darker/browner than his actual hair, but it’s still pretty light that if you look too fast you’ll miss it.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He’s a sappy little alien boy. Always showering you with praises so most of the time you’re a smiling blushing mess, which makes him smile as well. Even when he’s being dominant he’s calling you cute little pet names, anddd he’s got that smug little snark that’s just waiting for you to challenge him so he could show you who really is the most powerful here.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Doesn’t really do it much because sleep >> anything else. When he does have to release some pent up energy he generally just does it to get it out of the way and falls back asleep. Sometimes falls asleep dick in hand mid stroke.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

I feel like he would be into roleplay. It’d take him a while to bring it up, but once he does it kinda helps him to actually express his emotions more in a way? But having you dress up as different things turns him on as well (the maid outfit is not surviving the night).

Also hear me out on this I feel like he’d have a pregnancy kink. (SPOILER: Something about you both living long enough to have a family) You’d just look sexy with a belly to him.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

His or your place, where you can really let go. As for specifics:

The bed, the kitchen counter, the bathroom, the couch, to the windowww to the wall. As long as your both comfortable, he’s so down to screw you anywhere.

But thats not to say you both haven’t gotten... freakaayyy in the staff room closet at work once or twice... or five times.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Though he can just hear your name and he’s turned on, he particularly likes when you sass him back or give a little attitude. It’s like a declaration of sexual war between you two and he’s adamant that he wins.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Won’t bruise you too hard or hurt you in a serious way (like blood and stuff). He can’t, he just can’t. Hard choking as well is uncomfortable for him.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Lives for eating you out/giving head. Even if he’s too tired for penetration he’s got more than enough energy for you to sit on his face and just let him go wild. Or literally he’ll get on his knees and just keep going harder everytime you tug his hair when he’s hitting a sweet spot. Will literally overstimulate you every time because he’s just having so much fun.

As for receiving, he doesn’t ask for it much but would neverrr decline. He twitches so much and constantly has to hold himself back from bucking his hips up and shoving his dick down your throat. Hearing you swallow all of his cum makes him literally orgasm a second time.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Fast, no, rarely. Slow, sensual, rough in an almost primal like way but still soft? Yes! He needs to feel every bit of you, and make sure you’re feeling every bit of him.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Appreciative of a good quickie. Though he’s more qeen on having ample time to do with you what he wants, there has been situations where he’s had to pull you to an empty room and set a new world record for the both of you. Sometimes the both of you are at home doing the nasty when you get called to a mission, and then suddenly it’s a race for time lol.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

If it’s for you, he’ll try anything (within reason). He is a risk taker as well, because really to him it’s not a risk if he’s going to succeed anyway. Just has to make sure he’s thought of every outcome and weighed out the pros vs cons, which he can decide very quickly when you’re looking at him like that.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Depends on how much time between the rounds. After round one, let him take a quick nap and he’s back on it like white on rice. Anything more than that will require a full day of sleeping with cuddles with you.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

I feel like personally he never bothered with toys, but would not be opposed to use one on you. It’s like having another way to satisfy you (and tease you endlessly). He likes to feel your touch rather than a toy but he’s okay with anything you want mostly.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He’s such a switch, honestly. One day he’s begging for you and the next he’s making YOU beg until you literally can’t handle it.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

This man is a moaner and whimperer. He tries to hold it back mostly so it’s a lot of hot whimpering and mumbling at first but keep riling him up he’ll get louder. Says your name like a prayer always.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Turns your plushies around before you guys have sex, all of them. He says he doesn’t want to taint their innocence.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Thick in diameter, average sized in length. Definitely a shower but it’s pretty like him in every way anyway. Has one (1) prominent vein that hits just right. Colour just slightly darker than his skin colour (he’s pretty pale so) but tip is a light pink (#E6C5AD, if you will). Turns more red as he’s about to cum/is stroking or whatever. Yes I have thought a lot about this.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Having to wait lifetimes for your lover can leave you pretty wanting at times. That being said Xavier doesn’t really indulge in himself too often, and he’s quite the sleeper so in general it’s pretty low. But it can lead to some fun times where he’s just teasing you forever.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Like a LIGHT. After proper aftercare he is ready for the nap of his life.

#l&ds #love and deepspace #xavier love and deepspace #l&ds xavier #lads x reader #l&ds x reader #love and deep space #lauve and deepspace #lads xavier #lads

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itadorey · 6 months

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☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐕𝐒. 𝐓𝐄𝐋��𝐓𝐔𝐁𝐁𝐈𝐄𝐒

summary: would jjk characters win in a fight against the teletubbies? featuring: fushiguro megumi, itadori yuuji, kugisaki nobara, & gojo satoru genre: humor, hcs wc: ~750 notes: this is a repost

𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈 ੈ♡˳·˖✶

↬ fuck. no. when have you ever seen this mf win a fight? he gets his shit wrecked every episode. selene, if you’re reading this, i’m sorry but no. not even his shikigami can save him from the terror that is a teletubby. he’s strong, no doubt about that, but he doesn’t stand a chance. you thought todo fucked his shit up? the state he left him in is nothing compared to what the teletubby did. nobara will not let him live it down, and neither will gojo. but can you blame him? teletubbies are tall and low key scarier than the curses he’s faced. he definitely underestimated his opponent, and that was his downfall. the fight was over before it began, and the teletubby had no mercy whatsoever. he cannot look any of the teletubbies in the eyes afterwards. he can't look you in the eye either bc you keep teasing him.

the teletubby he fought: dipsy. he made sure megumi’s losing streak continued. definitely smacked the sorcerer with his hat.

𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈 𝐘𝐔𝐔𝐉𝐈 *·˚ ༘♡

↬ he wins. it’s a pretty steady fight without yuuji using his cursed energy. the teletubby is impressed with his speed and strength and even though the battle drags on, he graciously admits defeat (and no, it’s not bc he’s scared of what the pink-haired boy can really do). they become friends afterwards, because yuuji just has that talent, and they even go out for sushi together and bring you along. megumi is kind of jealous that yuuji was able to win so easily, and he hates the fact that the teletubby giggles every time it sees him bc it knows he lost his fight. yuuji somehow becomes friends with the rest of the teletubbies and honestly, they’re a pretty solid friend group. they don’t think he’s all that strong because he looks so sweet and innocent, but the original teletubby he fought shudders and tells them not to try their luck. he knows yuuji wasn’t at full strength and he fears his true power.

the teletubby he fought: laa-laa. they hit it off pretty well and sometimes sing together.

𝐊𝐔𝐆𝐈𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐈 𝐍𝐎𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐀 ࿐ ˚ . ✦

↬ yes! and it’s probably the funniest fight out of the four. she trash talks her opponent, and she has the ability to understand the teletubby language so she gets offended when it responds in kind. she’s so close to using her hammer and nails to attack, but gojo and megumi hold her back and confiscate her weapons. the teletubby knows just what to say to rile her up. it’s a dirty fight. the teletubby pulls her hair but she’s a bad bitch so she doesn’t flinch. in return, she goes feral, pulls the teletubby’s antenna, and kicks it in the legs. she wins, no doubt. she feels kind of bad afterwards but it’s honestly the teletubby’s fault for starting the fight. whenever they bump into each other (bc remember yuuji is friends with them) a fight always breaks out and you have the teletubby and nobara trash talking as they’re dragged away from each other. not gonna lie, even you and gojo were a little unsettled by her raw anger in the fight.

the teletubby she fought: po. she tried to defend herself with her scooter but nobara broke it :/

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 ༊*·˚

↬ yes. he shows absolutely no mercy. gojo may be a cocky, arrogant bastard, but he has proven that he is indeed the most powerful sorcerer to exist. he’s giggling the entire fight, thinking about you and all the sweets that he can buy when he finishes his opponent off. this is the first time the teletubby feels fear, and he finds that he doesn’t stand a chance against the blindfolded man. remember how easily gojo defeated jogo? yeah the teletubby is a bit harder to deal with but it’s a piece of cake. he’s beaten up and exhausted by the end of the fight and gojo? he’s in pristine condition. in fact, he might even look better than he did at the beginning of it. there’s something wrong about beating up a well known children’s show character though, so gojo makes the effort to bring it along on his sweet-shopping adventure. the teletubby is wary of anything gojo gives him and wonders how this now-smiling dumbass is the same sorcerer that beat its ass.

the teletubby he fought: tinky-winky. the oldest and tallest of the teletubbies got utterly wrecked by our smug little shit of a sorcerer.

reblogs are appreciated <3 ty for reading!!

#jjk x reader #gojo x reader #nobara x reader #megumi x reader #yuuji x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo headcanons #gojo hcs #jjk headcanons #jjk hcs #fushiguro x reader #kugisaki x reader #itadori x reader #jujutsu kaisen hcs #jujutsu kaisen headcanons

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sulumuns-dootah · 3 months

Text

NSFW Alphabet - Satan

A/N: Not me procrastinating writing a Michael fic with writing something that's in the end longer than the fic.

༺☆༻

⟡ Masterlist ⟡

‎‧₊˚✧ 18+ Minors Do Not Interact‎ ✧˚₊‧

༺☆༻

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

If you ask, he'll do it but it's not his first instinct since he's kicking others on daily basis and doesn't think much of it. I imagine he's the type to snuggle up with you under the blanket and get you a snack.

༺☆༻

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

From the game we know he favors his shoulders and arms and for partner i'd say he does too. The more you can inflict harm on him the better. Bonus points if you have long and/or pointy nails so you can break skin while scratching him.

༺☆༻

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Iridescent just like his hair when it's wet. Don't ask me why, it just is. About normal amount if you ask me. Maybe even on the sweeter side. His horn cum also strikes me as more sticky, but still the same.

༺☆༻

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He's slept with few humans before. All of them were witches doing a summoning ritual and he just so happened to be in the mood for something different from a demon.

༺☆༻

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He's the youngest of the kings, but he's still up there with the highest bodycount. Definitely knows what he's doing while with a demon, but with a human he might not know the limits, so you have to tell him if something is too much for you.

༺☆༻

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Any position where you can inflict pain on each other is amazing, though if he had to pick, missionary would be a winner. Both of you can comfortably bite and scratch at each other without pulling a muscle or popping out limbs.

༺☆༻

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? Etc.)

More on the serious side. The only time you hear a laugh from him while doing it, it's only a mocking one to rile you up more.

༺☆༻

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? Etc.)

Keeps himself cleanly shaven and interestingly, doesn't even grow hair that fast. But his hair down there is actually a lot darker, a light brunette or so. It also turns iridescent when wet, which is also partially a reason why he shaves it all off. After what happened with Mammon when he saw his hair wet, he doesn't want anything similar happen to his dick.

༺☆༻

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Satan doesn't really do romantic/sensual. He prefers more heated energy. Sure, you can go on a romantic dinner with candles and then lead him to a rose petal covered bed, but he'll still fuck you like you're enemies.

༺☆༻

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

As much action as he gets, he does from time to time enjoy some me-time. It's mostly when he's trying to focus on his kingly duties and doesn't have the time to go out and find someone, though. He doesn't really have much enjoyment from it since there's nobody to inflict pain on him and doing it himself isn't the same.

༺☆༻

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Aside from the obvious pain kink, he's also into degradation and some more extreme versions of bdsm. Some demons in the past even had to get amputations done.

༺☆༻

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Anywhere, really. As long as you're angry at him, he's down to do it. Sometimes even in the middle of a battle with an angels. It actually makes a really effective attack, if you ask me. Also since every demon is able to summon a room just with their mind, he can do that if the place you're at makes you feel uncomfortable.

༺☆༻

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Anger, of course. But also when you're trying to dominate him. Calling him a bitchboy or babygirl will get him going just as good as if you were furious. As long as it's clear to him that you're teasing him and not just demeaning, he'll play along instead of kicking you across the country.

༺☆༻

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Full on submitting. He'll be okay with being power bottom, but never make him powerless. Otherwise he might even freak out and switch the roles on you and make you wish you didn't make that mistake.

༺☆༻

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Prefers receiving but isn't against giving, either. Just don't pull on his horns too much, that's the only place he can't stand pain at. But his hair is free reign, even required, if anything.

༺☆༻

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? Etc.)

Fast and hard. That's the only way he knows and cares about. He's too into it to go slow and the more it hurts, the faster he's going.

༺☆༻

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Majority of the time with him will be quickies, unless you need some of that horn glue. That's the only time he'll actually dedicate bigger timeslot to your activities. Once again, he's busy and who knows when's the next time angels attack or one of his subjects wants to get kicked by him.

༺☆༻

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? Etc.)

Sure, anything you bring up will be seriously considered. Just be careful if he ever goes to visit Abaddon. He'll have a list of things he wants to try with you and you'll have to one by one explain to him that each of them will most likely lead to your death.

༺☆༻

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

As long as you're still angry, there's no time limit. Still, if you're not angry, he can go for a long time. Whether he lasts long or not depends on what you're doing during it. If it's something really painful he can finish really fast, but will demand way more rounds.

༺☆༻

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He himself doesn't own many and even fewer are still in working condition. The amount of ripped fleshlights is definitely a sort of a red flag and who even knows why he keeps all those snapped cockrings. If you want to introduce toys into the bedroom though, you'll have to provide them yourself. As much as confident and sex positive Satan is, he still gets embarrassed going to adult stores.

༺☆༻

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Not really a tease, he's too impatient for that himself, but a provocateur for sure. In his Bath card we can see him degrade MC just so they hit him.

༺☆༻

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Not loud but chatty if he's in the mood. Unless you touch his horns, then he turns whiny and starts moaning even louder than you.

༺☆༻

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

There actually is a way to turn him into a sub. All it takes is teasing him for so long he's so needy, that he'd do anything to get off. Or on the other hand, keep edging him by stroking his horns. Either way, when his eyes are rolling back, you know it's the perfect moment to strike.

༺☆༻

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Actually, here I'd like to just reference pinkgy's post where she goes in depth and better than I could ever. ^^

༺☆༻

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

If you have anger issues, very high. It generally depends on his partner, but if he's by himself, he surprisingly doesn't get horny as much.

༺☆༻

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Even if he fell asleep, you wouldn't really know. Unless he's snoring. That would be actually a really funny sight. But no, he doesn't fall asleep afterwards. There's too much bruises and scratchmarks to admire at their prime before they start disappearing.

#what in hell is bad #what in “hell” is bad?#whb satan #whb smut

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dckweed · 3 months

Text

NEXT THING YOU KNOW, gator tillman

in which gator tillman and his arranged bride figure out life and each other and what a real relationship means to them.

warnings: mentions and depictions of abuse, mentions of bruises, arranged marriages, romance, humor, dead parents, slow burn relationship (not completely but not not), basically we know the tillman men are asswipes so i 100% see Roy forcing gator into this kind of situation for money for his militia, eventual smut with kinks such as thigh riding, gun play, choking, spanking, lots of marking and possible spit play.

okay don't ask how i got this out so fast, im literally so fuckin obsesessed with this series right now.

series masterlist here, series playlist here.

PART THREE: the weekend

thursday.

“What in the hell did you put me up to?” Gator’s voice rings out across the barn a couple of hours later. You wince, hearing the anger swirling under the tense tone as his footsteps thunk closer to you across the wooden floor. You’re still facing Bubbles, trying to get her untacked but it’s not easy when you don’t have a step ladder, you didn’t check if there was one in the trailer when you left and you didn’t feel right going snooping around the Tillman barn, afraid it might get you in trouble.

“It’s just a few days,” You roll your eyes, grateful that he can’t see you because something tells you that the Tillman didn’t take kindly to bratty behavior like eye rolling. Not married yet or not, you were pretty much belonged to Gator now in the eyes of society in Stark County, nobody would bat an eye if he reprimanded you for it. “And i put us up to it, genius.”

“Well gee, Pearl, you could have fuckin’ consulted me first, dontcha think?” He’s right next you in the stall now, his much larger hands moving yours out of the way as he could actually see over the top of your horse to undo all of her stuff. “Why the hell would i want to spend my weekend babysitting my sisters?”

You scoff, turning to face him with your hands on your hips. You roll your eyes again and you know he sees you as his eyes narrow. “Ya know what asshole, you’re fuckin’ right!” You say, not going to put up with any of his damn attitude. “I shoulda slid right off my horse, left your daddy right out there in the field and come find you just to ask if it was okay.” He opens his mouth to retaliate, or maybe to tell you off for cursing at him or getting cross with him. “I may be younger than you but i’m still an adult, Gator, i’m gonna be your wife not your fuckin’ kid, don’t ever expect me to wait and ask your fuckin’ permission to do shit unless it’s necessary. That isn’t how this is goin’ to work.”

He doesn’t say anything but pulls the saddle off of the horse with a huff and you turn on your heel, leading her out of the stall and out to the trailer. Gator stands in the stall for a moment after you’ve gone, listening to the clip clop of the horses hooves as you guys go. He closes his eyes for a second, readjusting the weight of your heavy ass saddle before guiltily following you along. You weren’t wrong, he was being an asshole. He hated being wrong, and he hated apologizing even more but he couldn’t let you go around stomping your feet and being mad at him all damn weekend, something told him that probably wasn’t in his best interest. And besides, he did actually feel bad for snapping at you like that, you didn’t deserve it. He did like seeing you get all riled up like that though, the storm that started brewing in your eyes..it was a nice change from your normally friendly and people pleasing personality. He liked that you obviously knew how to stand up for yourself too.

The door of the trailer was open by the time he had finally meandered his way out of the barn, and he can hear you getting the horse settled into it. He makes quick work of putting the saddle into the back of your Jeep, closing the door and making his way to the trailer. He watches you, one arm braced against the metal door as his eyes follow your movements. You pat your horse on her long nose and then turn around, hands on your hips as you step down onto the ground of the driveway.

You’re staring up at him expectantly, chewing your plump bottom lip with your hands on your hips. It took all the will power he never knew he had not to put his thumb on your fucking mouth, stopping you from what you surely couldn’t have realized was a surprisingly sinful act. He licks his chapped lips, looking off to the side before sighing. “I’m sorry for bein’ an asshole.” He says quietly, brown eyes searching your face for any sort of reaction. “I shouldn’t have snapped at ya like that..”

Your face softens and something close to a smile graces the corners of your mouth as you push his chest lightly, your hands no longer defensively on your hips. “Apology accepted.” You say, meaning it. You had forgiven him the moment you had snapped at him too, you knew he was just as new to this whole situation as you were, you guys were still learning one another, that wasn’t any excuse to be yelling at each other but it was a reason to never let it happen again without at least trying to talk first. “But i’m not sorry for snappin’ back at you. You deserved it.”

He laughs, a genuine, hearty sound coming from his throat and brings a hand up to muss your hair as he helps you close up and lock the trailer. “Alright..suppose we better go get that lunch you were talkin’ about earlier and then go pack up your stuff for the weekend.” The sun was fully up now, and even though it was only nine thirty in the morning, and he had all of an hour and a half of sleep under his belt, he was ready for lunch with you, and he was ready to get his dad and his wife out of the fuckin’ house so he could maybe relax just a little bit, maybe get a few more hours of sleep..

After a small squabble about who’s going to drive the Jeep you’re pulling up to the curb of Gator’s favorite diner in town, and he’s letting out a breath of relieved air as he steps foot on the ground.

“Oh stop bein’ so dramatic!” You laugh walking side by side with him up to the door of the busy diner. He had spent the whole ten minute drive with one hand braced on the back of your seat and the other braced on the dash, telling you to slow down or to not hit your brakes so damn hard or to stop taking corners so fast and sharp with a damn horse trailer attached to you. You rolled your eyes after every comment, but found them more and more endearing as you heard the actual fear in his voice. That wasn’t the first time a boy had been scared to be in your passenger seat before.

“Stop bein’ such a bad fuckin’ driver!” He retaliates, brown eyes wide as he holds open the door of the diner for you, you cackle and duck under his arm, breathing in his cologne and the smell of that damn fruity ass vape that he keeps puffing on. “You’re a menace to the road, Pearl, i swear!”

He hears you mocking him and pushes the back of your head gently as the two of you find an empty space in the busy restaurant, a booth in the back corner next to windows where the light shines in. He insists on taking the side of the booth that faces the rest of the diner, wanting to have a good view of any potential danger (though he doesn't tell you that).

A friendly waitress sidles up to the table as the two of you settle, you giggling after he mutters something more about your driving. “Mornin’ Gator, miss.” She says, nodding at the two of you. She’s plump and motherly, her hair brown and curly. You can tell from the smile on her face that she clearly knows the boy across the table from you. “Coffee for you, hon?”

“Yes Ma’am,” Gator nods, one of the friendliest looks you’d seen in your whole short time of knowing him on his face as he looked up at her, his brown eyes filled with warmth you hadn’t seen towards anyone before. “And..i’m feeling lunchy today, how about a patty melt and fries, please?” You realized he must come here pretty often if the waitress knew his coffee order, and he didn’t need a menu to order.

“You got it Gator,” She says warmly, turning to you next. “And for your..friend?”

“Fiance, actually.” He says before you have the chance to speak, you’re stunned for a moment and so is the woman. This is the first time anyone outside of your families and the people directly involved with the wedding planning had been told that you guys were technically engaged, your face flushes as the realization and the weight of the title actually being out in the open for the first time.

You can tell that she wants to ask more questions by the furrow in her brow and the hesitation before she clears her throat, but she thankfully doesn’t pry any farther. “And for your fiance?”

You give a sheepish smile, that quickly turns to a deep rooted frown when the friendly woman tells you that they don’t stock flavored coffee creamers, or serve iced coffee. “Dr. Pepper then,” You say, the smile returning back to your face as Gator makes a mental note to stop by the local coffee shop for you on the way back to the Augastine ranch. “And I’ll do chicken tenders, with fries please!”

She gives a smile and says she’ll be back soon, as soon as she gone Gator cracks up laughing at you. “What?” You pout, and he only shakes his head at you, causing your pout to deepen. “It’s not nice to laugh at people, is there dirt on my face? Gator!” The way you whined his name struck a different kind of chord in him and he quickly stopped laughing, shaking his head as he situated himself in his seat.

He knew most men would have found the whining annoying but it was clear you didn’t do it on purpose, and it sent a tingle down his spine when you said his name like that. “Flavored coffee creamer?” You roll your eyes and kick him under the table, which only makes him laugh more.

You had to admit, you liked how young and happy it made his face look when he laughed, and you wished he would do more of it.

A couple of hours tick by as the two of you sit in your cozy little booth in the diner, eating and bickering and laughing at each other as customers come and go around you. He was sweet in his own rugged, rough way, your own personal diamond in the rough. You didn’t mind, it just meant you could have fun chipping away at him and softening him up around the edges. The more you got to know him over the past week, the more you started to think that maybe this marriage thing wouldn’t be so horrible. You could both learn to love each other over the years, and who knows, maybe you would fall in love in the way that all those people in the movies did. You had always wanted a silver screen romance..

Gator pays for the both of you before you can even dig your credit card out of your stupid little purse, which causes you to pout. “Hey, I was the one that asked you to come eat!” You argued and boy just sighs, giving you a pointed look that clearly said to shut the fuck up. You pout but don’t push on the matter, letting him steal the Jeep keys off of the table top as you slide off of your fluffy, overstuffed bench.

“Alright, lets go pick up your stuff for the weekend and drop your trailer off,” He had work tonight again and he was hoping to get a couple extra hours of sleep in before his father left. The nights were always longer when he was tired, but he wasn’t going to complain. Gator loved his job.

You follow him through the crowded diner, staying right underfoot. You hadn’t realized before but people were staring at the two of you, it made your cheeks flush when eyes bored into you as you walked and nervously, you grab onto the back of his shirt. He stiffens beneath your touch, and cranes his neck to look at you, eyebrows furrowed under the brim of his hat. “People are staring.” You whisper, he purses his lips and looks around before shrugging as you get closer to the door. “Why are they staring?” You weren’t used to attention like that, and you were afraid that somehow it would get back to Boyd that you were here with Gator and you would somehow get in trouble for it, fiance or not.

“Because i’m the Sheriff’s son, and this is the first time i’ve been out in public with my fiance.” He says, as if it wasn’t that big of a deal. “Sherry probably went and spread the word while we were eating, it’s no big deal Pearlie, the whole town was gonna find out one way or another.” He pushes the door of the diner open with one hand, and with the other he grabs your hand off the back of his shirt, using his grip to push you in front of him out the door.

“I figured they would have done an announcement in the paper or somethin’ by now.” You mutter, hands in your pockets as you walk side by side to the jeep with him. You don’t argue when he opens the passenger side door for you, but you do give him a shit eating grin as you step up onto the running boards to climb in.

“Yeah, well, they’re probably leaving that up to us too.” He mutters as he closes your door and quickly walks around the front end. You thought it was rather sweet of him, opening the doors for you, but you wouldn’t say anything, you didn’t want to freak him out. He wastes no time in pulling away from the diner, casually driving your car with one hand while the other rested on the gear shift on the center console.

You studied his hand, how much bigger than the gear shift knob it was, you could barely fit your own around it but his smothered it, leaving no trace of it under his palm. His thick fingers tensing and untensing around it, as if he were squeezing it like a stress ball. You bite your lip, looking up as the car comes to a stop and he throws it in park. “What are we doing?” You ask, noticing him lifting his ass out of the seat out of the corner of his eye, shoving his hand in his pocket.

“You ask a lot of questions, you know?” He quips, grabbing a twenty dollar bill out of his wallet holding it out towards you. You simply stare at it, and then lift your big ass, curious eyes to stare at him. He sighs, sagging against the seat. “Go in and get your damned flavored coffee, felt bad they didn’t have it at the diner..”

You feel your cheeks start to flush, and though you were tempted to argue and tell him he didn’t need to stop, you felt yourself unbuckling your seatbelt because that was just too damn sweet. You start to get out of the car, grabbing your purse when he clicks his tongue at you, shoving his hand at you again. You decide it’s best not to argue, you don’t want to annoy him anymore than you clearly already do without meaning to, you take it, using the grip on his hand to pull him across the console. You kiss his cheek sweetly, pulling away with a smile. “Thank you..” You say, turning and jumping from the Jeep as quickly as you could without hurting yourself.

Gator is stunned by the show of affection, his neck flushed red from the interaction. He shakes his head, fighting back the smile on his face by putting his vape to his mouth as he watches you happily skip into the fucking coffee shop. “She’s gonna be the death of me..” He grumbles to himself, running a hand down his face after breathing out the fruity flavored vape that he filled his lungs with.

You’re grateful that he’s with you when you go home because you can sense Boyd’s mood before you can see him, the house is still and quiet, the girls off at school for the day, the nanny is not needed until this afternoon. You walk through the front door with Gator laughing about the way he had narrowly avoided a hoof to his head when he was walking with Bubbles, you giggle at him as he exaggerates the scene that you had had your back turned to, shaking your head as you start for the stairs.

“Where have you been?” His voice is cold and sends a shiver down your spine. You stop in your tracks, one hand on the bannister and turn to face him. You don’t dare look at him, but you put a complacent smile on your face nonetheless. You can feel Gator behind you, his hands sliding into his pockets much like they were on the first time he had been to your so-called home.

“I was on that ride with Roy,” You say, calling Gator’s father by his name, he tenses behind you at the mention of the man, and you’re tempted to glance up at him and offer him a comforting smile. “And we got to talking about the wedding and what not and how i would like his girls to be in it, and he thought it would be a great idea,” You’re starting to babble, and you begin to worry that your words aren’t making any sense because of the way that his face changes. “So now Gator and I are here to pack up a bag for me because we’re going to be watching his sisters while their parents are gone for the weekend..”

“We stopped and got an early lunch first,” Gator steps in, you feel his hand on your lower back and it brings a sense of calmness to you for some strange reason. “She was hungry..sorry, i shoulda had her call you or somethin’ didn’t mean to make you worry, Sir..”

Boyd is quiet for a long beat, his jaw ticking like it does when he’s angry and trying not to show it. You swallow back your fear knowing that you’re safe with Gator here.

“When will you be back?” He narrows his cold eyes at you, they hold no emotion other than the contempt that you know he feels for you, and that makes you nervous for what you’ll endure when you come home Monday afternoon, but grateful for the time you’ll have away.

“I’ll be back Monday afternoon, after his parents come home.” You say, tired of the conversation and no longer wanting to be involved. You turn and start heading up the stairs, knocking Gator’s hand from your back as you leave without being dismissed, something you’re sure you’ll hear about next week. “See you then.”

Gator is quick to follow behind, giving your step father a friendly smile as he clambers up the stairs behind you. “What was that all about?” He asks in a hushed voice as he follows onto the second floor landing.

You shake your head and walk past your sisters’ room and farther on to yours, locking the door behind you. You don’t notice the way Gator’s eyebrows pinch when he notices you’ve barricaded yourselves in the room by locking it.

“He’s an asshole.” Is all you say, shrugging off the encounter before heading to your closet to find your suitcase.

When you come out you see Gator with his hands in his pockets again, looking around your bedroom, the one area of the house that was completely and utterly you. Pink and red accents, white frilly lace..teddy bears and fluffy pillows and blankets..the room was so..you. He had gotten his attention caught to a smattering of photo frames on your big white dresser, all of them held you in them, smiling that big beautiful smile of yours (sometimes it would be reaching your eyes, lighting them up happily, but most times it wasn’t), all of them held different people, your sisters mostly, and whom he assumed was a friend from school, a tall brunette with killer legs in a bikini with her arms around you. There was another guy in the photo too that he tried not to be jealous of, but he had his arm around your waist and was grinning down at the two of you as you guys stood on a dock in front of a boat. He loved how happy you looked there in that moment, like your mind wasn’t laden with such heavy burdens like planning a wedding you were legally bound to, or dealing with a clearly tense situation with your step father. His favorite picture though, was one of you and an older woman, your mama, he assumed. You were laughing in the photo a mess of birthday cake frosting smeared across your cheek and some pink tinsel in your hair. The silver balloons behind you said ‘15’.

“That’s my mama..” You said, sliding up behind him. He jumps, slightly scared. “That’s the only picture i have left of her..Boyd has all the rest, wont let me see ‘em. I think they’re up in the attic somewhere.” You sniff a little, trying not to cry as you turn away, hands on your hips. “Right, lets get this stuff together.”

After about an hour or so you’ve stuffed the whole suitcase with more clothes than you really need for an entire weekend, Gator had lightened the mood by teasing you when you tried to hide your panties and bras as you packed them, telling you it’s not like he hadn’t seen any before, and he would be seeing yours for the foreseeable future, and then making you laugh at his genuine confusion at your array of shampoos and body washes in the your shower.

“Oh no, don’t tell me you’re one of those 3 in 1 off the shelf at the grocery store kinda guys..” You laugh, looking at him looking at the four different bottles of soaps in his hands. “Please tell me you use something that costs more than ten dollars on your hair! It’s too pretty not to use cheap crap!” You hadn’t really meant to call his hair pretty out loud, but it really was pretty, you couldn’t deny it.

He doesn’t mention it though and instead looks up at you bewildered. “Are you tellin’ me you spent more than twenty dollars on all this crap combined?” He asks, completely in awe. “Oh my god Pearlie, please tell me you’re not gonna be breakin’ my bank on fuckin’ shampoo- it’s shampoo!”

The two of you burst out in laughter after a moment and you deemed it best not to tell him how much you spent on hair care quite yet, afraid that he would have an aneurysm if you did. He’s gentlemanly enough to help you carry the suitcase back out to the Jeep.

He even carries it into his daddy’s house for you, and up the stairs where he shows you his bedroom. He tosses the case unceremoniously onto his bed, where it bounces. You look around for a moment, eyebrows raised as you take in the scenery. It was messier than you had imagined, but it smelled so much like him and his damn vape that you couldn’t help but to take a deep breath of air. The room wasn’t too big, and his queen sized bed took up most of the space, the rest of it littered with his clothes on the floor and posters on the wall..you noticed some trophies on a shelf that you would have to ask about later.

“It’s not much, and it’s usually not so messy..” He says, you think he might be a little embarrassed by the red flush of his cheeks. “I’m sorry you have to sleep in here with me, but it’s better than the couch or crashing on the floor in the girls’ room..”

“I don’t mind, Gator..” You say, giving him a little smile as you turn to face him. “It’s a fuckin’ pig stye though.” You laugh and he follows suit, nodding along with you. You had a pretty good idea of what you would be doing to keep yourself busy while Jessica and Maude were at school tomorrow, or until they would come home this afternoon.

The rest of the early afternoon was spent with Karen giving you a run down of the girls’ schedules and how to feed them and dress them. Something about the woman irritated you to your core, maybe it was the way she clearly held nothing but disdain for her step son, or maybe it as the way that she spoke to you like you were stupid and couldn’t possibly be capable of taking care of her children, either way, it made your eye start to twitch the more you thought about it.

You were grateful when Roy seemed to have finally had enough of hanging around after he had dutifully packed their bags into his old chevy and got a little snappy with his wife, who quickly scurried out of the door. He gave you a friendly squeezed of your shoulder, his giant hand engulfing your shoulder, before mentioning something to Gator in hushed tones that seemed to only upset the boy as his voice turned tense and cold and his back stiffened like it did earlier in the day.

The house was quiet once the door shut, creepily quiet once the old Chevy had meandered it’s way out of the gates of the house and down the road of the ranch. You stood in the doorway of the kitchen, not quite sure what to do with yourself as you kept your eyes on your fiance. He’s watching out the windows next to the door, his back muscles still tense. You wondered if he would be upset with you if you asked what his father had said, if you asked if he was okay. You decide against it though. “Gator?” You ask, your voice soft, small and quiet. He hums in response, hands on his hips as he glances back at you. “Shouldn’t we go pick up the girls?” You noticed it was nearing time for school for your own sisters to be out, and while Gator’s went to a private christian school you figured they probably had the same start and out times as your sisters’ school. “It’s almost three..”

“Yeah..” He runs a hand down his face, clearing his throat. “Yeah, let’s get going.”

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psychedelic-ink · 1 year

Text

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐞 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐝

pairing: pre outbreak!joel miller x f!reader, one sided tommy miller x f!reader

genre: angst, smut, romance, slow burn, mutual pining, secret relationship

series summary: After your grandfather’s passing, you find yourself moving into his home in Texas. You meet the Millers; Tommy, his older brother Joel and his daughter Sarah. With time, you and Tommy become close friends and Sarah visits you often. But Joel…Joel keeps his distance. The reason for this is due to one crucial fact you don’t know but he does; Tommy has a crush on you. Which means you’re off limits no matter what. But as your own feelings for Joel grow, things start to get more and more complicated.

word count: 7.1k

chapter summary: Everyone comes together to finally finish the renovations for the room.

warnings: phone sex but with visuals (does this make sense? i hope it does lmao), small injury, teasing, dirty talk, stripping, mutual masturbation, hurt/comfort, joel self-blaming, single parent insecurities, gray sweatpants kink do not judge me yes i know i have a problem, general insecurities revolving around having kinks, use of good girl, praise kink

Chapter Nine || Chapter Eleven

Hushed giggles and tentatively exchanged kisses linger into the morning. August is still sleeping, which means you have the perfect opportunity to sneak Joel out the door. You feel him all around. His lips on the back of your neck, and hands on your hips. Neither Joel nor you, wants him to go out that door. Joel stalls for a moment, cradling your face with large palms as he pulls you for a kiss. Your fingertips brush the doorknob. Your body melting as you feel his tongue licking over your bottom lip.

“This is kinda excitin’, sneakin’ around like this,” he says into your mouth. “When will I see you again?”

"You're acting like we don't live across from each other, neighbor," you answer with a humorous chuckle. His thumb swipes the skin right under your eye, and your smile grows in size. "But I'll see you this afternoon. Tommy is coming over, and we're going to carry everything into the room."

“Big day,” he hums. “You need me to bring anythin’?”

“Just your handsome self will be enough.”

With a sudden rise in his posture, he towers over you and pins your hips against his. Sweat beads at your tailbone, your insides clenching with the ghost sensation of his cock. His pupils are dilated.

“You sure know how to get a man all riled up, honey.” he rasps, voice dipping like sweet poison, you’d be happy to take. You shudder, an exhale escaping your lips. You feel him through the rough fabric of his jeans. Oh, the things you would give to have him in your mouth. You swallow instinctively, then, mustering all of your willpower, you open the door.

The morning sun pours through the door. Fresh, warm, and bright. The beam caresses Joel’s back and reaches all the way to your toes. A soft wind blows, ruffling his already mussed hair. You feel the growl resonating in his chest, the tremors seeping into your own worn out body. With a smile, you give him a quick peck on the side of his chin, the rough hairs tickling your lips.

“I’ll see you then, alright? And after that. . .” you drag a finger down his chest, gently poking his stomach. A puff of air escapes him. “We can have some celebratory fun.”

“I like the sound of that sweet tea,” he peers over your shoulder, briefly glancing to the living room as if someone might appear at any second. Then he drags his gaze back to you. “When’s your brother leavin’?”

“Tomorrow morning—and speaking of, can you drive us to the airport?”

He feigns offense and gasps, placing both hands right above his heart. “I knew there was a catch for last night. An ulterior motive,” he says.

“Oh, hush you,” you playfully chide, nudging him towards the door. “I can ask Tommy too if you’re busy—”

Joel is quick to cut you off “Nah, I’ll do it. It’ll be easier.” he answers, taking a backwards step through the door. The sun now fully beating down his skin.

Do you hint. . .jealousy in his tone? It’s hard for you to make sense of it, especially after the very passionate night you two shared. But in the end, you know little about their relationship with each other. The thought makes guilt rear in your heart. Wrapped up in your own grief and feelings you’ve done very little to learn more intimate details about their past.

Noticing this, Joel pulls your bottom lip down with his thumb. A lazy smile makes its way across his face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you answer. He raises a brow, clearly not believing you. With a sigh, you drop your eyes to the floor. “I just realized I didn’t put in the effort to know you guys better. Which is very shitty of me.”

“Hey, look at me, sweetheart. . .” he says softly, his voice dripping like dark molasses. You do as you’re told and he smiles brightly. “We have a whole lotta time to get to know each other better. That’s what dates are for, so don’t worry so much about it. I’d hate to see you frownin’ after such a delightful night.”

“Dates?” you repeat slowly, eyes wide. He grins and your heart skips a beat.

“Yes, dates. You really thought I wasn’t goin’ to take you on one?”

Honestly, it hadn’t really crossed your mind. Having the luxury of seeing Joel whenever you wanted, even without the intention to bump into him, has made you forget about the concept of going out and learning more about one another. You just assumed “dating” meant any time he was around. Now that he addressed it, saying that he wanted to take you on actual dates. . . you’re excited, to say the least. Seeing him all dressed up for you, taking you by the hand as he showed you his favorite places. . . you can definitely get used to that.

“Okay I really should get goin’ now,” he mutters, briefly checking his arm for a watch that isn’t there. He holds your hand and squeezes it twice before heading off next door. You watch until he disappears and you close the door, a soft smile touching your lips.

You sigh and lean against the door. Some part of you wants to slide down dramatically, fully content in just thinking about him until the time you two reunite comes once again.

But you don’t. Instead, you head to the room. The hall is dimly lit, the sun not reaching the narrow space yet. You open the door and take a step inside. The painting you made of him is still there. Not that it could be anywhere else. It’s still unfinished. However, now that everything had been said and done, you don’t really have the urge to finish it. It feels complete without actually being so. You had buried your sorrow and heartbreak into this painting. Your sadness bleeding into the paint to create a disoriented mirage of the man you. . . liked.

Heat rushes to your cheeks— you really do have a problem with getting attached way too quickly, don’t you? Sinking your teeth into your tongue, you pick up the painting and lean it against the wall, the back of it facing the outside to hide what it was. It still surprises you that Joel figured it out from the tiny little bullseye you added. You had done it by impulse. And now you’re happy that you did. He must’ve been observing it quite thoroughly in order to see that little smudge.

“Well, good morning little sister.”

You jump, your head whipping in the direction of the groggy voice. August has his one eyebrow raised, his broad body leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. He gives you a lopsided smile. Embarrassment rolls in your stomach.

“Auggie!” you greet him, albeit a bit eagerly. “Good morning!”

“You know that the walls are thin,” he says, ignoring your enthusiasm. A nervous laughter comes out strangled from your lips. “You know that and still—Still you decided to traumatize me.”

“I swear we were trying to be quiet.”

“God, I don’t want to know when you two aren’t trying to be quiet. Jesus. Thank whoever fuck created earplugs.”

To the untrained eye it would’ve looked like he was berating you but from the twinkle in his eye and unwavering smile, you know he’s just teasing you. Your shoulders drop and you shake your head with a grin.

“So far for keeping it a secret.”

His other eyebrow joins the other at his hairline, “Secret?” he parrots. “Why are you trying to keep it a secret?”

“There’s so much I have to tell you,” you answer. You lock your arm with his and start walking down the hall together, heading for the kitchen. “How about your little sister apologizes with chocolate chip pancakes and fills you in.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

The Millers join you in the afternoon.

Before they arrived, you and August had baked focaccia from scratch and cinnamon rolls—well, it was more you baked and Auggie kept you company but nonetheless, you still thought of his conversation as a helping hand. And he did help you knead the dough so you had to give him that. The three arrive all together, Joel and Tommy looking like hell whilst Sarah was her usual chipper self.

When you open the door, you have to admit, it’s awkward. Your cheeks heat up immediately, your eyes flitting between the two brothers. Tommy enters first, his hand on your waist as he pulls you in for a gentle kiss on the cheek. His scent fills your nostrils. For a moment you feel like you’re drowning in it. In him. Your breath catches in your throat and you awkwardly wrap your hands around him. While your face is nestled right above his shoulder, you notice Joel’s fixed gaze. His jaw locked. You can’t tell if it’s from guilt or worry, you end up looking away.

Tommy pulls away and pinches your right cheek with two fingers, “How’ve you been sweetheart?”

Oh god oh god oh god

You can feel Joel's stare piercing through Tommy's back, his expression revealing a hint of frustration. How is this supposed to work if he gets worked up this easily? You and Tommy are close friends and you intend to keep it that way. Tommy calling you sweetheart isn’t something Joel should be threatened by. Perhaps there's more to their relationship than meets the eye, some unresolved issues from their past. If Joel was just nervous, or anxious, that would be understandable—so are you—but he shouldn’t be angry.

“I’m good, thanks,” you answer with a forced smile. “How was work?”

He points his thumb in Joel's direction without turning around. “This one,” he says, “worked me beyond measure. I swear I don't get paid enough.”

“Consider yourself lucky to be gettin’ paid at all,” Joel steps in as Tommy makes his way into your home. He leans in and brushes his lips against the shell of your ear. A shudder crawls up your spine. “Been thinkin’ about you all day,” he mutters.

“Yeah?” you swallow. “I’ve been thinking about you too.”

Joel pulls back, his hands skimming down your waist, he stares at you for a second. You’re unsure what he’s looking for, but whatever it is, he must’ve found it because he smiles and nods.

He trails after Tommy, and you follow. The hallway is cluttered with furniture that you plan on moving inside, followed by some bookshelves, a desk, the bean bag chair Tommy bought you, and many many boxes. The walls were completely done, the colors looking beautiful and fresh. You come to stand at the thresehold of the door, Tommy and August laugh at something simultaneously. Your nerves buzz with anxiety. August understood the situation, the messiness of it. Despite that, he still said that you should just fess up and explain everything to Tommy. He just didn’t understand you weren’t ready to have that conversation yet.

Meanwhile, Sarah is looking over the boxes. Her nimble fingers moving over the jagged corners.

“Alright,” you call out, slapping both hands together. Everyone’s attention is on you now. You grin widely. “Let’s start.”

You’re sweating.

Salty water trickles down your spine, thick and uncomfortable, as it causes your oversized shirt to stick to your skin. You've always sweated easily. Bringing another box inside, you notice August propping up one of the bookshelves. He doesn't even have a single drop of sweat on that stupid face of his. Asshole. You place the box down with a huff, and Sarah opens it, starting to place the books and other knick-knacks on the bookshelves. You had given her full control over the placement of objects, and so far, it's looking good.

Joel, rightfully so, had placed some distance between the two of you. Careful not to cheat a glance while he reassembles the table. Tommy had been silent too. He was much more talkative compared to Joel, but you could tell something was on his mind.

August catches you staring at Tommy and raises a curious eyebrow. He gives you a barely there shake of his head, making you pout in response. After that, he shrugs, disappearing into the hall to pick up more boxes. You blow an exasperated raspberry into the air and push your hair back, grimacing at the way sweat clings to your palm. You groan, wipe your hand on your shirt, then stare at Sarah again. She’s fast with stocking the bookshelf. You’re impressed.

Or perhaps you were staring at Tommy longer than you thought.

Sarah steps back to admire her work, the gothic bookshelf towers over her, its dark wood polished to perfection. The shelves are narrow, but expertly arranged, showcasing an impressive collection of books. However, something is off. You notice the wood trembling slightly, tilting, and starting to give in to gravity. Your eyes widen and at the same time your lips part to tell her to move away, the bookshelf begins its ascend down.

Stepping forward, you push her out of the way. The bookshelf crashes down, books and small cutesy decorations flying in all directions. You manage to hold it up with your forearm, preventing it from collapsing completely. Sarah gasps loudly and you hear the three men in the room shuffling around, panicked.

You feel the weight of it in your arms as you struggle to keep it from toppling over. You hate to admit, but your eyes sting with involuntary tears. Your arm scrapes against the rough surface of the wood, and a small trickle of blood runs down your skin. You hiss at the pain. Your body starts to shake—fuck, just how heavy is this thing?

So focused on trying to keep the damn furniture upright, you don’t see someone rushing to your aid. The weight suddenly being lifted, you your legs fumble momentarily. Sweat rolls down the frame of your face.

You meet Joel’s gaze as the shadow cast by the bookshelf dissipates. Your eyes burn while they adjust to the light. Only after, do you notice Joel’s hardened gaze, his clenched jaw, and his tightly wound-up muscles. A soft gasp leaves your lips. One that can be easily misunderstood as a sight of relief. Joel props the bookshelf to its original place and a beat later he’s standing an inch away from you. Chest to chest. Your heart beats in your throat.

There’s a hand on your shoulder. August, your brain informs you. And the other smaller presence near you must be Sarah. You’re still staring at Joel. Too transfixed to move your eyes away. You think you feel the brush of his fingers skimming up your arms, but you know you must be dreaming it because his hands are glued to his sides.

“You’re bleeding!” Sarah says panicked. “I’m so so sorry. I—”

Her tone snaps you out of it. Forcing a smile you turn to her and touch her hand to calm her. “It’s okay. I’m fine. It’s just a little blood.” your eyes jump across her worry-stricken face. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she answers but that doesn’t stop Joel from cradling her cheeks, tilting her head, and looking into her eyes as he examines her.

“You sure, baby girl?” he asks, his tone proof that he doesn’t quite believe her. Sarah pushes his arms away and looks down at his socked feet. She nods.

Tommy takes your hand, looking over your arm. Goosebumps rise over your skin. A tingle buzzing at the base of your spine. “You’ll live,” he says with a grin and a wink. You can’t help the giggle that bubbles from you.

“I wasn’t aware you had a medical degree.”

He rolls his eyes and your heart feels a ton lighter. You’ve missed joking around with him like this, you’ve missed him.

“Either way you should get patched up,” August chimes in, always the voice of reason. You have half the mind to stick your tongue at him but don’t. “You have a first aid kit, right?”

“By kit if you mean stuff I randomly picked up from the drug store that I threw in a basket then yes.”

He narrows his eyes, parting his lips. You know what he’s going to say. He’s going to say; Come on let’s go, I’ll patch you up. But before he can, Joel steps in, his eyes not once turning to you.

“I’ll help you out,” he says. It resembles more of a grunt rather than a sentence uttered out of kindness. “Lead the way.”

Tommy opens his mouth, words crawling up the back of his throat. You don’t hear anything. August smacks a hand over his shoulder and gestures toward the door. “You two get cleaned up, the three of us will get this mess sorted,” his eyes briefly move over the scattered books, landing on the bookshelf with squinted eyes. “And we’ll fix the bookshelf up too.”

“Yeah,” Tommy follows up, turning to Joel. “Take care of her.”

“You know I will.”

There’s a weird tension in the air. Tommy’s words make you flail for a moment, the blossoming pain in your arm fading to the background, only leaving a sizzle. The brother's eyes lock with each other. A silent conversation takes place. For a moment you think Tommy knows. Your shoulders raise and an impossibly short moment feels like hours. August and Sarah seem to miss it, already starting to pick up the books and placing them neatly over the fluffy carpet. Some hopeful part of your wants to believe this is Tommy giving his blessing. But another part is telling you that it might be the opposite. A warning to his big brother, asking him not to harm what was his.

You should be offended, in all honesty.

Before you can add anything, the silent conversation is over. Tommy goes to inspect the bookshelf and Joel softly touches your unwounded warm. Taking this as your cue, you lead the way to the first-floor bathroom. One you are sure he is already familiar with.

He closes the door behind you. The soft click making your cheeks grow warm. There’s two bathrooms in the house in this is the smaller one. The sink is right next to the toilet and that’s followed up by a small shower that no one uses. Across from the toilet is a washing machine. Wanting to make the space a bit homier, you’d thrown over a handmade sown colorful tablecloth made by your grandmother on top of the machine.

Your head spins at the close proximity. You feel Joel right behind you, his body imposing and large. Knowing that the small basket is under the sink, you start to kneel down. Much to your surpirse your movement is stilled by the pressure of Joel’s palm on your stomach.

“You sit, I’ll take it out. I don’t want you fallin’ over.”

He sounds rough. Frustrated almost. It’s a surprise to you that he does. You did save his daughter after all, how dramatic sounding that might be. A grunt leaves him as he kneels down. Your heart clenches. It feels like he’s avoiding you and you hate that. You know he did it before in order not to raise suspicion but now you two were alone. Shouldn’t he be talking to you? Touching you? Kissing you? Isn’t that how it works? Your gaze slowly drops to the angry mark on your skin. Blood caked at the corners. It’s weird really. You rarely get wounded. Yet you’re calm. The feeling of pain is like second skin and it makes you uncomfortable. Like a telling of a future that hasn’t been written yet.

You don’t notice Joel standing with the small first aid basket. He looks down. A moment later rough knuckles brush your warm cheek. You lean into the touch. He smiles.

“Does it hurt?”

“A bit,” you lie. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizin’?” Once again he kneels, getting between your thighs. You spread them for him, ignoring the heat settling between your legs. He places the basket on the marble floor and takes your arm to inspect it.

“I don’t know yet. I feel like whatever is going through your head might be my fault.”

“Well, it ain’t,” he says calmly and pops the bottle of antiseptic solution. “This might sting a little.”

It does. But you don’t really mind it. Joel gently cleans the wound, and the angry shade of blood is replaced with a raw visual of skin. He starts unwrapping the gauze.

“I should be thankin’ you. You pushed Sarah out of the way, I saw.” his voice trembles towards the end, it’s such a subtle change of tone that you almost miss it. He wraps the bandage neatly around your arm, the pain now gone. “She hates it when people fuss over her. Hates it even more when she makes a mistake.”

You open your mouth to say she didn’t make a mistake, it was just faulty furniture. Joel cuts you off before you can. “I hate to admit, but that might be my fault. She takes care of me too. Some days it feels like we’re more like roommates than actual father and daughter. She had to grow up too fast because of me.”

You allow the words to sink in. It’s more painful compared to the wound gently simmering under the gauze. His hand moves from your arm to your thigh. He gently squeezes the muscle, yet still refuses to answer your gaze. You can relate to what Sarah has been going through and you’re sure August would too. It’s hard knowing that one of the two that brought you into this world refuses to be with you, take care of you. To deny their love and affection. Your stomach clenches.

Letting out a soft exhale, your curl your fingers around Joel’s hand. You notice the way his jaw ticks.

“You’re too hard on yourself. It’s not your fault. You had her when you were young right? You did your best and she turned out great. No matter what, you’re here and her mother is not. I see this, I’m sure Sarah does too. You’re a caring father Joel. Sarah loves you. I know.”

“I don’t want to be let off the hook that easily.”

“Joel. . . Hey, look at me—” You lower your voice and cup his jaw with your other hand, lifting his face up. He finally allows himself to meet your gaze. You smile. “No one is letting you off the hook. I’m just stating what it is. Ever since I’ve met you I watched you trying to give her the best life that you can. You make time for her. Love her. You have pizza days and bake brownies together. If half of the parents did what you did, therapists would be out of a job.”

You’re honestly not sure if he’s convinced. But he humors you nonetheless. Joel leans into your touch, his beard rough against the softness of your palm. A shiver settles at the base of your spine. A pleasant tingle. His lips mold over the heel of your hand, a soft purse of his lips following. Your eyes eat up the movement of his lips as it stretches into a warm smile.

“This is going to sound odd but I ever since I met you, despite the dumb shit I did, I felt lighter. Somehow. I think I now know why.” Another kiss, this time placed upon the center of your palm. A soft moan escapes your lips. “You’re my rock, honey. Thank you.”

“I can say the same about you,” you grin. “My night in shining armor, rescuing me from evil bookshelves.”

He hums, “Don’t remind me. I have half the mind to put it through the woodchipper.”

“Joel Miller, don’t you dare,” both of you laugh, yet there’s still tension lingering and swirling in your body. His thumb moves over the gauze. Up and down. He feels the fabric. “By the way, what was that weird silent moment with Tommy? He doesn’t know, does he?”

“No—I mean I don’t think so. I didn’t tell him. Did you?”

“I didn’t.”

“Don’t worry about it. Just some friendly brotherly tension. It’s normal. And Miller men tend to be a bit possessive.”

You chuckle, “You say that almost proudly.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he smirks and you feel the tips of your ears burning. “When I say possessive, I don’t mean we’re gonna lock you in a room. We protect our own. That’s good.”

You can’t help the snort that escapes your lips. “Ah yes, I forgot there were ghouls and monsters outside that we, damsels in distress, need protecting from.”

“Brave words from someone who calls me over when they see a cockroach.”

You narrow your eyes, “You swore you would never mention it.”

“I wasn’t aware that included you too.”

You playfully roll your eyes and he brushes his lips over your knuckles. They’re chapped and worn from the painting you’ve been doing of late. The rough surface of the canvas rubbing the skin raw. The small hairs above his upper lip sends shivers up your spine. Without wanting to, you clench your legs, gooseflesh prominent over your skin. The already tiny bathroom feels smaller somehow. You find yourself leaning into him as his eyes find your own. Soft drops of dark coffee reflecting the stars. His smile reminds you of a full moon. Filling you with gratitude that it’s there during a late night.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, eyes glazing over. “I really wanna kiss you right now.”

“What’s stopping you?”

You almost laugh when he actually works his mind for an answer, his hand coming up to scratch his scruffy cheek. The sound deafening in the small space.

It takes him only a second to decide that the answer is absolutely nothing.

The room was finally finished.

Despite the hiccups along the way, it was done. Everyone, except for Sarah, celebrated with cold beers and the treats you had made prior to when the Millers had arrived. Sarah, who had a frown similar to her father's, slowly loosened up when you brought out the cinnamon rolls. The focaccia was slightly burnt, but everyone enjoyed it nonetheless. And after an evening of laughter and filling stomachs with delicious food, the Millers left. August prematurely thanked Joel for the ride he would be giving him early in the morning before the older Miller left. The two of you climbed upstairs, argued about who should use the bathroom first, and retired to your rooms.

You had actually planned on looking over the renovated room before bed but your muscles ached and you felt positively exhausted from a day well lived.

What you don’t expect, however, is for the phone to ring.

“Hello?” you say into the receiver. “Joel?”

“Hey sweetheart,” a modulated deep voice follows. “Look out the window.”

With a smile, you step closer to the window. A soft and gentle light embraces the space of his room. The hue of the light is a delicate fusion of a tender shade of crimson, as if infused with the gentle blush of a lover's kiss, and a mellow, yellowish glow that evokes the subtle warmth of a peaceful summer evening. You notice the firm body that stands in the middle of the window. Shadows dance over his being, half of him buried in a warm darkness. He’s wearing a long-sleeved shirt that has three buttons, all of them open, exposing more of his sunkissed skin. His gray sweatpants hang low over his hips. He looks soft and comfortable. Reminding you of delicate pastels.

“So. . .” he clears his throat, his voice awakening something deep in the pit of your full stomach. “Whatcha wearin’?”

You snicker and shake your head, “Joel. . . You can see me.”

“Sorry,” you can both see and hear the smile in his voice. “I never know how to start these things.”

“Did you change the lights?” you ask, ignoring the heat bursting all over your skin. Did he call you for phone sex? You try not to look too hopeful. “It looks nice.”

“Thanks. I have a couple of settings actually, I would have to claw my eyes out if I had to use the actual yellow light all the time.”

“Careful, Miller. It sounds like you’re trying to build up to something.”

“What if I am tryin’ to build up to somethin’?”

God, his voice. It’s so smooth and raspy. Your head spins a bit and you regret that the bed isn’t closer to the window.

“You look a bit warm, honey,” his voice drips like thick molasses. His tongue slowly rolling over each and every word. As if he can taste it. “Maybe you should. . . take off your shirt.”

You’re hot and bothered. Slick already gathered between your legs, the fabric of your underwear sticking to your skin. But despite it all—the heat, the sound of his voice, the growing ache between your legs— you let out a loud, unattractive laugh that you subdue quickly with the back of your hand. You hear him let out a low chuckle as well. A sound that makes your legs shake.

“Are you asking me to strip?”

“Perhaps.”

“Only if you do the same, handsome.”

“Alright, I reckon we make this interestin’,” he coos. You can’t see clearly but you like to imagine he has one of his eyebrows raised. “How about we play a little game? Strip for each other, put on a show to see who breaks first?”

“Hmmm, I do like games,” you answer, tapping the plush of your bottom lip with your forefinger. “But it won’t really be fun if there isn’t a reward. . .”

“Smart girl,” he breathes out slowly. “If I win, I get to play with you however I want. And you have to take it.” before the heat can settle at your lower back, he quickly adds. “Unless what I’m askin’ isn’t to your likin’ of course. I want you to enjoy yourself.”

“You almost make me want to lose the game, Joel. Very enticing,” you say, your lips breaking out into a cat-like grin. “If I win I want to roleplay.”

“Roleplay?” he chokes on the word, which only makes your smile broader. “Roleplay as what?”

“Undecided.”

You’re relieved when you hear the familiar sound of his laughter. You genuinely have no idea what you would want him to roleplay as, you had just blurted out the first thing that came to your mind. Overexcited with the prospect of the game. When he speaks again, his tone is laced with something dark and heavy. You attempt to indistinctively rub your thighs together. You hope he doesn’t notice how near the edge you are already.

“Alright, honey. Take off your shirt.”

With a short nod, you place the phone on the desk briefly to take off your shirt. You hiss as the cold air caresses your pebbled nipples. Already hard and aching. You pick the phone back up. Joel breathes heavily.

“No bra?”

“I would never sleep with a bra. Too uncomfortable.”

“Shiiit,” he groans out, large hand moving down to cup himself through his gray sweatpants. “Squeeze them for me, sweetheart. Play with your nipples.”

“O-Okay.”

You underestimated how hot this would be. Gnawing the inside of your cheek, you tuck the phone between your shoulder and ear. You gingerly cup both breasts and start to knead them, your thumbs brushing over the peaks. A soft sigh escapes you. You eat up the way Joel is watching you. His eyes glued to your chest, his hand stroking his cock sideways, the outline of his length visible from where you stand. You swallow.

“Now you,” you mutter. “Do the same.”

He swiftly takes off his shirt, your eyes instinctively drop to the swell of his stomach. Your hands longing to caress his flushed skin. “Now what?” he asks.

“Spread your hand over your stomach, really feel the skin under your fingertips,” your ears burn with embarrassment but you can’t help yourself. Your mouth waters. “After that softly drag your nails down your chest.”

When he complies without hesitation, you grow more comfortable with the situation unfolding in front of you. Joel strokes the soft flush of his stomach, slides his hand up his torso, and then drags his nails down the expanse of his chest. You pinch a nipple. A moan echoes from the back of your throat and you swear you see his hips jerk into the air.

“Are you hard for me Joel?” you say, lips brushing against the end of the phone. “Tell me how bad you wish I was there.”

“So bad,” he grunts unintelligently. He drags his nails down again, shuddering when he applies more pressure than before. “I’m hard as a goddamn rock. I wish you could feel it for yourself. I’m a mess under there.”

“I love messes,” you hum. “Can I touch myself?”

“Fuck,” he groans and spreads his legs. “Sure, sweetheart. I wanna see you—all of you, bare as the day you were born.”

You move to do as he says and with the corner of your eye, you notice movement from the other window. You click your tongue and he stills.

“I didn’t ask you to do the same,” you warn without any real threat behind it. He licks his lips and straightens up. “Stroke yourself through your sweats. I. . .” you clear your throat, your shyness coming back with full force. “Uh. . .”

“You want me to edge myself?” he adds for you. His tone is softer, more like he’s comforting you rather than trying to seduce you. Kicking your pajama pants and underwear to the side, you meet his gaze. “It’s okay honey. You don’t need to be shy when you tell me what you want. Especially not now.”

“I guess not, Sorry about that,” a nervous laughter escapes you. You feel the haze of arousal slowly starting to dissipate, making you hyper-aware you’re standing butt-naked in the middle of your bedroom. A chill settles over your skin and you wrap your arms around yourself. You think you see Joel’s frowning. You might have a clear view into his room but detecting facial expressions are always tricky. His sigh vibrates in your ear.

“If you want to stop we can,” he says trying to be helpful. You shake your head. You don’t want to stop. You really don’t. But it wouldn’t be the first time you make a fool of yourself when asking for something. “Okay then,” he speaks slowly, tenderly. Your heart melts. “You know I really liked that.”

“Liked, what?”

“The draggin’ the nails thing. I rarely indulge, I definitely didn’t before. Until I met you. You make me want to take pleasure even in the smallest things—the smallest moments. I want you to feel the same, darlin’. I don’t want you to think you need to hide anythin’ from me.”

“Really?”

You hate the way your voice cracks. Hate the way your lips form a shaky smile. You don’t want to be this shy, nervous little thing. It’s hard when even the slightest care from someone—from him—turns you into a puddle of emotions. He continues to speak. You only focus on the tone of the voice, of the feeling in it. He reaches into your chest, takes out something bright. And that brightness warms you both. Joel tells you to touch yourself, to rub that pretty clit of yours, and before you know it, you’re doing exactly that. Pleasure heats up your shivering body. You swallow down your moans as they become louder, puffs of uncontrollable air parting your lips.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Tell me how it feels, tell me what to do.”

“It feels good,” you say between pants. “Would be better if it was your fingers but still it feels very nice,” your knees buckle, a jolt of electricity rushing up and down your spine. “Jerk yourself off but don’t remove the sweatpants.”

He groans into the phone when he finally wraps his fingers around his aching cock. Joel slightly hunches over, his fist jutting through the fabric every time he strokes himself. You’re only slightly guilty about not telling him to strip entirely. You bet his cock looks delicious; the head dripping with precome. But the hidden aspect of it is far too good to pass up. It’s desperate and raw. Your brain musters up an image of him coming home late, tired, thinking of you. . . his cock half-hard all day. Too lazy to take care of himself in the shower or remove his clothes. It’s an image of pure hunger. Delectable. Your fingers swirl around your throbbing clit, your fingers coated with shiny slick.

“Shove those fingers inside, press your palm into your clit,” he commands, jaw almost touching his chest. You fumble for a moment, wanting to continue and come. “Now,” he growls and you jump, your walls clenching around nothing.

When you do as he says you stumble forward. Forehead hitting the glass as your legs begin to shake. You grind your palm into the sensitive bundle of nerves, your fingers deep but not nearly enough to douse the fire between your legs. You breathe heavily through your mouth. Every time your hard nipples graze upon the cold glass you shudder, your moans becoming louder.

“Fuck,” Joel groans into your ear. You force your eyes to stay glued to him, half-lidded as you watch his stomach clench and unclench over and over. “That’s it, keep your eyes on me, pretty girl. You’re close aren’t you?”

“Y-Yes,” you whimper, and your breath fogs up the glass. Despite your very being trembling with lust an idea takes shape in your head. “Joel—” you moan, a bit louder, praying to every god and goddess you can think of so August doesn’t hear you. Joel grunts. You notice his hand starting to jerk faster, more sloppily. “I want to see you come, please.”

“Nice try,” he breathes out a heavy chuckle and you swear you can feel it fanning across your neck.

Thankfully, you’re a stubborn woman. “Please,” you start to beg, catching him off guard. Your fingers move quickly inside of you. In and out, in and out. The wet sounds echoing in the bedroom. “You look so good, I’m—I’m about to come.”

“Good,” he huffs, sounding debauched.

You don’t yield.

“You want to hear it?” you purr, your walls tightening around your fingers. “Do you want to hear how wet I am for you? How turned on I am by all this?”

“Y-Yea, sweetheart. Let me hear those pretty sounds you make.”

You must be possessed. That is clearly the only explanation as to why you’re pulling the phone away from your ear to where your fingers are buried. You fuck yourself deep, biting your bottom lip so hard that you fear it bleeds. You desperately wish you could hear Joel. But all you can do is watch. His lips are part wider, his throat bobbing with every sound that tumbles out of his lips. Your eyes drop to the movement of his hips. He fully grinds himself into his fist, a dark patch growing at the front of his sweats.

When your legs shake uncontrollably, your own hips jerking to meet the thrusts of your fingers, you place the phone back to your overly heated ear. You open your mouth to speak in hopes to push him over the edge, but you remain silent as you hear a symphony of oh gods echoing from the other line.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, I’m comin’, sweetheart—” he rasps between gritted teeth. “Fuck, fuck, I can’t believe what you do to me. I can’t believe I’m—” he cuts himself off with a moan, his own forehead finding the smooth surface of the glass similar to yours. “I’m gonna cream in my pants like some teenager—”

“I want to see,” you whisper and pull out your fingers, starting to wetly circle around the tender pearl of your clit. “Please come for me, Joel. You look so good. . .”

A strangled, choked out sound vibrates in his throat. Momentarily the hand that holds the phone is braced against the window, his hips stuttering into his hand uncontrollably. His voice comes muffled. He thrusts into his fist, once, twice. . . then breathes heavily through his nose, his lips trembling with a swallowed-down whimper. His chest heaves beautifully under the soft red hue, the shadow hallowing out his eyes.

Slowly, he places the phone back to his ear. His other hand is still hidden underneath his sweatpants. “Your turn, honey,” he breathes. “My sweet girl. My good fuckin’ girl. Come for me. You don’t need to hold yourself back anymore.”

You fall with the aid of his words spectacularly.

It’s a rush. A warm feeling that rushes up from your toes and reaches every nerve of your body. You’re completely pressed against the window now, your breasts smushed up against the glass. Somewhere in the background, you hear Joel telling you to be careful, asking you to take a step back. But his voice is so far away and you’re so lost in the daze of your delicious orgasm that his warnings fall on deaf ears. Slick drips down your wrist, the inside of your thighs, drops of clear fluid dripping to the rug underneath. You’re half aware you’re whispering his name, swallowing down your need to scream and feel his body over yours.

“Thaaaat’s it, gorgeous. Just like that.”

You grind down further down your fingers before pulling them out. Without much thought you drag them over your body, wet straks glistening under the artificial light.

“God,” you gasp, your voice hoarse. “Joel that was. . . amazing.”

“I couldn’t agree more, darlin’. You should lay down. You look like you’re about to collapse.”

You bat your eyelashes at him, sleep suddenly clutching at your body with exhaustion. “I wish you were with me,” you whisper. “I don’t want to stop looking at you.”

“I can come over,” he mutters. “Sarah’s asleep.”

“No, no,” you wave your hand and swallow, your mouth dryer than sandpaper. “We both have an early morning anyway. I’ll just have to suck it up,” you weakly smile, hoping he can see it. Your heart skips a beat when you see him smiling back at you. “Good night.”

“Good night, sweetheart.”

The line goes dead and begrudgingly you turn to your bed. Your mind wanders to last night when he was nestled behind you, his warm body curling around your cold one. You let out a sigh. You feel sedated but still, something worrisome lingers in your veins. You’re not sure how this whole thing is supposed to go. You can’t see the end.

And that bothers you greatly.

a/n: I for the life of me cannot believe I've written ten chapters of this series. And honestly, I wouldn't have managed it without everyone's support so thank you very much! The "looking through each other's windows and playing the dirty game" was requested by an anon (even tho I slightly altered it for the chapter) and I fell in love with the idea immediately. So a special thanks to them!

as for the roleplaying. . . I am open to suggestions! In fact please send me some because I have no idea lmaofdvf my only thought is making him cosplay as spider man lmaodfv so feel free to raid my askbox with suggestions!

thank you so much for reading, wishing everyone a lovely day xx

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #tommy miller x reader #tommy miller x you #stay in bed #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fanfic

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daegutowns · 5 months

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svt reacts: you being playful

tags: boyfriend au, established relationship, hip hop unit, gn! reader, reader is kind of bratty, purposely riling up svt or being playful, fluff, slice of life

seungcheol: thinks you’re being real cute. rolls his tongue through the inner lining of his cheeks while watching you. his eyebrows push upwards as his lips twitch upwards towards a small smile. he’s usually always down for your antics, even when he doesn’t have enough energy to join you himself. when you’re teasing him, he always takes it in a good stride. if he thinks you’re being a little too petulant then he’ll wrap you up in a hug and smother you into him while laughing. game’s over when he starts teasing you back. (and he will.)

wonwoo: quietly watches you with a soft smile on his face. he always has a soft spot for you, so he good-naturedly laughs along to your jokes and teasing. you both have a good understanding of each other’s humor, so he likes to tease you right back. but, if you do this in the middle of a game, he just gives you side-eye and tells you to wait for him to finish first. if that doesn’t work, he pauses his game to tickle you. sometimes you never learn!

mingyu: thinks you’re so lovely. when you’re feeling playful, so is he! most times, puppy!gyu is the king of matching your energy. you ask him silly questions? sometimes, he gives you a silly answer back. other times, he gives a serious answer to see you pout and whine. you tease him? he just smiles and opens his arms for you, asking you why you’re acting so cute out of the blue. even if he’s tired or not really in the mood, you’re like an energy recharge!

vernon: is always giving you the best reactions. given how expressive he is, if you tell him a joke or ask him a silly question, his face answers before his mouth does. he Always has energy to play along with you. if you’re teasing him, he just laughs along with whatever you’re saying. (what you’re actually saying doesn’t really matter because he’s just focusing on you anyways.) sometimes will give you exaggerated responses and then laugh when you laugh.

#daegutowns #svt reacts #svt hip hop unit #svt boyfriend au #seungcheol fluff #wonwoo fluff #mingyu fluff #vernon fluff #svt x reader #svt x y/n #svt x you

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rosescovenwrites · 2 months

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10th Doctor NSFW Alphabet

Warnings: pegging, spit kink, graphic descriptions of cum, threesomes mentioned, pegging, bondage, the Doctor's massive cock (needs a warning in and of itself)

a = aftercare (what he’s like after sex)

The absolute sweetest boy, he will clean you up, shower you off (might go for round 2 if you're up for it), cuddle with you, and do whatever you want. He gets hungry after sex so he will make you both a little snack.

b = body part (his favorite body part of his and yours)

The Doctor personally favors his hands because he knows how to use them (like fuck have you seen David’s hands, they do those close ups of them for a reason). Whether he’s touching your ass or your pussy, he knows how to get you riled up and ready to take him.

On a cheesy note he adores the cute faces you make when he’s fucking you and just in general. Sexually speaking, he loves your ass. When you're off on another planet he is shameless and grabs it when no one is looking (some planets physical affection in public is totally normal so if someone did catch him no one would bat an eyelash).

c = cum (anything to do with cum)

He cums a lot and can do so several times in a session. Perks of being a time lord. His favorite place to cum is on your body in some way. If he’s taking you from behind he will paint your ass white with his cum. He cums inside you once you feel comfortable with that.

d = dirty secret (a dirty secret of his)

The Doctor really enjoys being tied up sometimes and edged and vice versa. He would use his different ties and it is super hot.

e = experienced (how experienced is he? does he know what he’s doing?)

Being over 900 years old he has had his fair share of sexual partners.

f = favorite position (goes without saying)

The Doctor really likes the legs on shoulders position because he can penetrate you deeper and because he likes to look at you during sex. Normal missionary is too boring for you both.

g = goofy (is he more serious in the moment? humorous? etc.)

This is the 10th Doctor we are talking about, so he can be goofy at times during sexy time. Sex isn’t always pretty like it is in the movies, silly things can happen. Sometimes when he is stressed he gets more serious and the sex is always ungodly hot regardless.

h = hair (how well groomed is he? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He keeps things clean and trims when needed.

i = intimacy (how is he during the moment? is he romantic?)

He is adorably loving and sweet, always checking how you are and he is a consent king.

j = jerk off (masturbation headcanon)

Because he is always with you, he really doesn’t need to masturbate. Though there are times when he thinks he’s being sneaky and he masturbates in your shared bedroom in the Tardis and you walk in on him, he is adorable and turns bright red but you of course urge him to keep going. Mutual masturbation is also something you both partake in, usually as a form of foreplay but he does prefer to touch you himself.

k = kink (one or more of his kinks)

Praise kink 100%, you praise him, he praises you and it is so sweet

Sir kink, it makes him so fucking hard when you call him that

Edging, delayed gratification for both parties makes the orgasm so much better

Bondage, nothing too kinky but he loves restraining you with his ties or blindfolding you with one to heighten your senses

Spit kink, spitting in your mouth or you in his to taste each other’s juices/cum

Not sure if this is considered a kink but he is into him being fully clothed while fucking you and you being completely naked.

l = location (favorite places to do the do)

Usually in the Tardis of course (not when it's moving though that would be terrifying and no one would be handling the controls), specifically in the bedroom. He likes you both to be comfortable and the bed is typically the best place to do that. Sometimes in the bath or shower when the timing is right.

m = motivation (what turns him on?)

When you wear more revealing clothing or when you wear one of his iconic suits

Simple but effective when you bend over in front of him

When you tug on his hair during a kiss

When you’re confident, it makes him both happy and horny

n = no (something he wouldn’t do)

Nothing that would severely hurt or injure you, spanking and choking is hot but nothing too aggressive.

Nothing to do with bodily fluids (blood, urine, shit, etc.)

No dubious consent he is too sweet for that and it feels icky for him

No weapon play

o = oral (preference on giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He loves, loves, loves eating you out and he knows you feel so good because you pull on his hair a bit. On the other hand, he loses his mind when you suck him off because the noises you make and the sex in your eyes drives him wild and makes him absolutely feral. When you gag on it, it strokes his ego (clearly not the only thing being stroked ;) ).

p = pace (is he fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

The Doctor can be either depending on his mood. Regardless of pace he constantly checks with you because he wants to make you happy, safe, and comfortable.

q = quickie (his opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Usually, the Doctor likes to take his time with you when you have sex. He certainly finds quickies fun and thrilling but he loves to have longer intimate time spent with you. One time you had a quickie it was rough and dirty (which is usually how they go). Jack almost caught the two of you in the act, but he didn’t see anything but he knew because you both had sex hair and you still had his tie around your neck.

r = risk (is he okay with experimenting? does he take risks?)

The Doctor would take risks to an extent, but nothing too crazy. Public sex is not something he would be into because he loves you too much to risk that. However, he doesn’t mind going for a quickie in a bathroom or closet, maybe even in the parked Tardis with the door open if you’re both feeling a bit on the frisky side.

s = stamina (how many rounds can he go for? how long does he last?)

He can go about 5-6 rounds and he usually can last anywhere from 10 minutes (for quickies) or 45 minutes (when he wants to take his time with you, he wants to make you cum as many times as possible).

t = toys (does he own toys? how much does he use them? on you or him?)

I feel like there would be a lot of like intergalactic sex toys you find along the way on your travels with the Doctor. I can’t be the only person who thinks how sonic screwdrivers look a whole lot like vibrators.

On him, he would probably try pegging at least once, but I have a feeling he would really, truly enjoy it.

u = unfair (how much does he like to tease?)

As stated above, edging is huge for the Doctor both when giving and receiving. You tease each other an equal amount and are both switches. Sometimes he will whisper dirty things in your ear when you are out and about and gives you subtle touches but says you have to wait. You tease him too by sucking on a lollipop or popsicle or walking around the Tardis in one of his shirts and nothing else.

v = volume (how loud is he? what kind of noises does he make, etc.)

The Doctor is not afraid to grunt, moan, and be vocal about how good you feel. He also loves to praise the hell out of you and say things like “good girl” but also “my little slut” when he is being mean in bed or is in a mood.

w = wild card (random headcanon)

He would be down for a threesome, usually he wouldn’t want to share you because he loves you and only you (we love a loyal baby girl, 10 is so baby girl sometimes I swear). He might even fuck around with you and the Captain Jack Harkness. The Doctor has always been queer to me and there has always been undertones of that.

I know in the show he hates being called sir in a professional way, but when you say it during sex he loves how obedient and good you’re being for him.

x = x-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

You know the David Ten-inch joke and I know that’s MASSIVE but in my canon it is 100% accurate.

y = yearning (how high is his sex drive?)

Doctor Who, more like Doctor Horny, this man loves to fuck. He can go multiple rounds in a night/day and has a pretty quick refractory period.

z = zzz (how quickly does he fall asleep afterwards?)

I feel like the Doctor would be kind of energetic or “on a high” after sex since he’s not human, he would lie with you because you’re exhausted (especially after going several rounds) and he will eventually drift off to sleep beside you.

#tenth doctor x reader #tenth doctor #tenth doctor smut #david tennant #doctor who #doctor who fanfiction

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coltermorning · 18 days

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Of Love and Loss Ch. 13 (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: You and Arthur get to know the town better, getting to know each other better in the process.

Author’s Notes: This chapter needed some major reconstruction, so I apologize for the wait on it! I split it in half and completely changed the ending, but I’m so glad I did because it’s one of my favorite chapters now. Enjoy all the fluff and these two getting drunk together for the second time :) Chapter thirteen of this one.

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, high honor Arthur Morgan, minor character death, loss of parents, blood and injury, grief/mourning, survivor guilt, strangers to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut, graphic depictions of violence

AO3 Link

Of Love and Loss

Thirteen: Townsfolk

Word count: 5416

You startled awake at some point in the night, darkness pushing in through the lone window. Once you had your bearings, a sudden panic overtook when you realized Arthur wasn’t there until you saw him lying on the floor beside you. You’d slept through his return. And the fool had refused to wake you, had let you have the bed. This was no better than lying under canvas for him. You told yourself you would berate him for it once he woke, but the thought soon eddied away when your tiredness overtook you once more, your panic easing away now that you knew he was there beside you, that you didn’t have to face the bedroom alone. You fell back into dreams of your family, of a past life, of a time when you were never alone.

You must have truly needed rest, as you awoke a second time to Arthur reentering the room, having slept through him ever leaving it. You were normally a lighter sleeper.

“Just stabled Harriet and Bo,” he said. “Figured they could use a good rest and plenty of hay.”

“Does this mean we’re staying?” You couldn’t help the hope that lined those words.

Arthur caught it and smirked. “What, my company that miserable?”

Truth be told it was…quite the opposite. But before you could blush over the thought of that kiss, you pushed on. “You don’t see me running for the hills. Yet.”

“Yet,” he replied with a low laugh. He turned to the small mirror and basin the room had to offer, running his hand over his beard. It had grown long in the time you’d been traveling with him. His hair had too, starting to hang down past his eyes when his hat wasn’t pinning it back.

“You’re starting to look like a Montanan,” you told him. Starting to, because most men’s beards were twice the length of his in those snowy mountains.

“I usually keep it short,” he said, still looking at his reflection. “But it’s sure as shit been cold enough not to.”

You shrugged. “You get used to it.”

“The cold or the beard?” he asked, his hand falling as he turned to you. And when his eyes landed on you, the room suddenly felt a little smaller.

“The cold. Afraid I’ve no experience on the latter.”

He smirked, and you hated how much that look burned you up inside. You turned away.

“Well,” he said. “I’m starving. Want to go eat a proper meal? See a little of this country for yourself?”

Your heart gave a nervous kick at the very idea.

“It’s either that, or you’re staying here,” he added, and you knew without having to look at him he was just trying to rile you. Of course you would come with him, no matter how begrudgingly you did.

“Forgive me for not liking either of those options.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, and I can think of worse ones. Especially having to deal with me when I haven’t eaten, so come on.”

You rolled your eyes and wondered when the day would come that he would stop using his humor to get you to agree to things. Or maybe when you would finally find the will not to listen.

You threw your legs over the bedside and stood, realizing you were still wearing his clothes. “It won’t be…odd for me to walk around looking like this?”

“Like that? Sure,” he said with a laugh.

You glared at him. His amusement wasn’t helping.

“Here,” he said, crossing the room. And you let him invade your space without pause as he turned up your coat collar, sticking your hat low on your head to hide your hair. No matter that your heart was racing. That you felt disappointment take hold when he stepped away.

“Could pass for a man now. Ain’t no one looking a man’s way, ill-fitting clothes or no.”

“Great,” you said flatly. But Arthur just gestured to the door, and you scowled and did as he said, making for it.

After eating one very well-deserved meal of oatmeal piled with sugar, you and Arthur explored the town. It was interesting to see how mankind lived all intertwined like this. And sure enough, you got to look around relatively unnoticed. After a stop at the launder for your and Arthur’s clothes in which you weren’t even glanced at, you came out with a newfound confidence. It was nice being looked over, being an afterthought. All you had ever known of other people was unwanted attention, and now you felt freer than you ever had around so many eyes. It made for an enjoyable morning.

Arthur found a barber and stopped in, annoyed with all that hair after all. You sat outside in the sunshine and watched the people mill about. If where you were headed was anything like this for you, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

You were basking in the rare heat when you heard spurs clicking in your direction.

“Ready to go back?” Arthur asked.

You turned to answer, but when your gaze landed on him, words escaped you. His beard was now nothing more than stubble, his hair shorter but still framing his face, his hat in his hands instead of on his head for once. He was…distractingly handsome.

Apparently thinking you had fallen into another one of your spells of not speaking, Arthur put his hat back on his head. “I posed that like a question, but let me rephrase. You’re coming with me.”

The way he cleaned up so well plus him demanding that of you…it had you blurting out words to shake your sudden stupor.

“Why not stay? Get to know the town a little better, I mean.”

He smirked at you. You couldn’t figure why, your nerves at looking at him making it hard to do so.

“Do my eyes deceive me?” he jeered.

“What?”

“You, sitting around enjoying the place.”

“I just- I’ve never-”

“Save it,” he said, holding up a hand. “You don’t have to explain it to me. But tell you what, let’s go back, let it get dark, then I’ll show you around. Town’s always best at night anyhow.”

You could feel the nerves veritably rushing through you at the prospect of that, at all these people, at him. But you just nodded and stood. “Lead the way then.”

You were pondering what it would be like to finally get to experience this kind of life when you looked up and were faced with Arthur’s broad back, his mere presence carving a path through the people walking about. Had it always been that broad? And had he always looked that good in that big coat?

You shook your head to get that particular madness out of it and went back to watching the townsfolk. Anything to distract you from the one thing you wouldn’t allow yourself to think of for the remainder of this trip.

Nearing the hotel, you still felt those cursed nerves, but you had fully convinced yourself they were nothing more than timidness over the town. Certainly not a lone room and a bed and an outlaw to keep you company.

Arthur sat in the chair in the corner of the room and drew in his journal. He had stripped his coat, the heat of the day making it sweltering inside the hotel. He was just glad it wasn’t snowing. He’d had enough of that to last him the year. So he took up his time drawing the town you found yourselves in, debating what trouble to get you into tonight. He’d told himself miles back he’d show you how to cut loose for once, only now it seemed not the brightest idea he’d had. Now all he could think of was those men’s eyes on you at that shit hole of a trading post. But he’d given you his word, and he wouldn’t go back on it. Not when you had shown genuine excitement for once, all over seeing the glamor of city living. Well, glamor was a stretch, but it was something to you at least. More than could be said for Montana. So he sketched down a few bricks on a building side, debating all the while some type of harmless fun. Harmless, because his type of fun usually ended up being anything but. He wouldn’t show that particular genius to you lest you both end up in a jail cell. He grinned at the very thought.

The sound of the creaking bed reached Arthur’s ears, and he snuck a glance at you, seeing you sprawled out on your back, lazily reading the ledger you held above you. You were calmer here. He could tell you felt safe when you had been fine staying outside while he visited the barber earlier. And especially when you’d wanted to stay. Considering what happened in the last settlement, he was surprised you even wanted to do that much. But this trip would be coming to an end in a few short weeks, and maybe you, like he, knew it was time you got used to being on your own. Or without him, more like. Though he did feel a certain pride that you felt so safe around him, the same pride that still plagued him while he sat there admiring his shirt on you. It made him want to…well. Best not to think on that.

“Think I could make it as a trader in Nebraska?” Your eyes remained on the ledger despite the question.

“I know you could,” Arthur said, going back to drawing. “Better question is, would you want to?”

You sat up then, sitting cross-legged on the bed in a way that drew his eye.

“It’s what I’m good at.”

“You’re good at hunting,” Arthur said. “Those are two different things. You want to be a traveling salesman on top of that?”

“Maybe. Probably not.” You looked down at the ledger, your lower lip catching between your teeth. It took everything in Arthur not to stare at your mouth. “I don’t know,” you went on. “Maybe I could have a stall in town. I’m sure I could sell something if it was as valuable as what Pa used to sell.”

“Sure,” Arthur said, surprised at your ambition. How far you had come, willing to consider opening your own stall in a town you used to think you would never make it to. Planning a future for yourself. He was proud of you for it.

“Anyway,” you said, shutting the ledger and setting it aside. “You got any thread? Sewing needle?”

He let his amusement show. “No.”

You scoffed. “Of course you don’t. I was going to offer to sew up your coat.” You pointed at it where it lie on a trunk under the window, the afternoon sun shining down on it.

“Well, I ain’t got any.”

“Sure.” Then you stood and crossed the room, headed right for the door.

“Where you think you’re going?”

“To find some. Most women have a needle and thread on them. At least, the ones working here probably do. I’ll go ask.”

“Hang on. I didn’t keep you cooped up in here all day just to get snatched now,” Arthur said.

“I won’t get snatched,” you said, already opening the door and shooting him a glare all at once. Like an entirely different person from the one who had followed his every step just yesterday. For some reason, this sudden confidence shut Arthur up, and he let you be. The door closed behind you with force, leaving him shaking his head and going back to his journal.

The minutes ticked by, and Arthur got to a stopping point with his drawing and stood, moving to the window to have something to do with his restlessness. Looking out over the back street, he spied a small, dingy-looking saloon that didn’t even have a name, just ‘saloon’ written in big block letters. It would normally be a place he would be drawn straight to if it weren’t for the fact that he couldn’t take you there. Certainly not with the kind of population that frequented those places. His population, he thought with a chuckle. You were damn lucky Dutch and Hosea had drilled some manners into him, what few they could. But the place did give him an idea for the night’s festivities.

The door creaked open behind him, and Arthur turned to find you with thread in hand, showing it off in triumph.

“Told you. She even had blue.”

“How ‘bout that?” he teased, though he was secretly grateful you had gone so far as to get the proper color thread. No one else would have bothered with something like that.

You motioned to his coat, and he picked it up and threw it to you. You took his spot in the lone chair and set to work, Arthur trying not to watch too closely. He instead went to looking back out the window, thinking of what the pair of you could get up to.

“This is a pretty wide gash. You sure you didn’t get scratched too bad?”

Arthur hadn’t given a moment’s thought to the scratch the wolf had left behind on his arm. He had enough scars to forget to worry about the smaller ones.

“Nah, it ain’t bad. Don’t need any stitches at least.”

You were quiet for a moment, likely thinking of your own nasty scar. Then, “Your shirt needs mending too. I’ll work on it once we get it back from the launder.”

Arthur looked at you then. You were never so nice to him this…willingly. It reminded him of when you’d cleaned the blood off his face, and the thought made something finally click in his brain.

“You do this kind of thing for your parents?”

He knew he’d gotten it right when you didn’t immediately respond. Then, in a small voice, “Momma taught me.”

You didn’t talk about her much. Usually only your father and all he had taught you. But Arthur was willing to bet that defiance in you didn’t come from him. It was a trait best suited to daughters who had learned how to fight through testing their mothers.

“Well, I’m glad she did. I’m dogshit at sewing.”

You snorted a laugh. “I’m not surprised.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You may be pretty at shooting a gun, but sewing’s a far cry with those big hands.”

Arthur felt his face heat at the word pretty but barreled through the feeling it brought him. “I sewed you up just fine.”

Now it was your turn to be embarrassed. You went red. “And you’re not going to let me forget it, are you?”

He felt his smile widen of its own volition. “Never.”

You didn’t respond, only smiled down at your sewing. Then you were bringing the needle away, gathering up the thread. “Done.” You handed the coat back to him. He took it and examined the new patch, a small line of darker blue now marring his right coat sleeve. It was a token of sorts—something to forever remind him of this trip.

“Thanks.” He meant it. You just waved him off.

Instead of putting the coat down, he put it on, not buttoning it up to keep the heat at bay. “Well, we may as well get going before the shops close. I have one more errand to run.”

You didn’t hesitate to stand, your eagerness returning. “What errand?”

He grinned. “You’ll see, nameless.”

He hadn’t called you that in a while, and it had you swatting at him as you passed, heading for the door. He opened it before you could, holding it ajar for you with hand outstretched. It made you even madder, and all he could do was laugh as he shut and locked the door behind you both.

The town was livelier at this hour, just as Arthur suspected it would be. Most folks were off work, in town to blow off steam after a long day. The heat had tapered off with the setting sun, turning it into the perfect golden evening. It was as good an introduction to regular life as you would ever get.

“You plan on telling me where we’re going?”

Arthur glanced at you, at your funny-looking clothes. “We could always stop at the launder, get you your clothes back.”

You caught the amusement on his face and frowned. “I don’t want them back yet. I was enjoying blending in just fine earlier.”

He figured. Looking ahead, Arthur found the shop he needed just down the main road. “Going to the gunsmith. I need more revolver cartridges since you shot all mine at nothing.”

“And you wonder why I’m mad at you all the time,” you muttered under your breath. He grinned.

The gunsmith had a fairly bare-bones shop, but it had what Arthur was looking for. He coughed up the money and was soon putting the cartridge boxes in his satchel, getting a few out to stick them in his gun belt.

“As riveting as this is,” you said, watching him do it, “I had hoped for a more…memorable evening. To be one of the townsfolk, if you will.”

Arthur finished and waved at the gunsmith, opening the door for you. “You always gotta be on a man’s case so bad?”

“It’s the duty of every woman.”

Arthur barked a laugh and pointed at the saloon he had already scoped out—the Red Horse. It was the biggest of the three saloons he had seen in town. Biggest usually meant easiest to blend into. “That’s where we’re headed. You up for it, miss townsfolk, or is that not memorable enough for you?”

He could see your eyes catch on it, see the way you clammed up with nerves before you calmed yourself back down. “No, memorable is a good word, I think.”

“Good. Come on then.” You both made to cross the street, but a horse and rider came barreling through so fast from around the corner you didn’t see it in time. Arthur grabbed your hand and yanked you back. He expected you to be cross about his saving your hide, as you tended to be, but instead you looked down at your hand. He was still holding it. He dropped it and cleared his throat. “You’re welcome.”

You wouldn’t meet his eye then, turning to attempt the street again. Or maybe to get ahead of him so he couldn’t see that blush on your face, but it was too late for that. He had seen it, and it was making him stare after you like an idiot.

Arthur remembered himself and rushed after you, putting all meaning of that blush behind him lest he let some pitiful semblance of hope get to him.

The saloon was lively and growing fuller by the minute, the bar full and nearly all of the tables the same.

“Beer or whiskey?” he asked you, having to talk loud over the man at the nearby piano as he pushed you into the room.

“Beer,” you responded, busy taking in the scene before you. Life at its very simplest. Gambling, alcohol, and a good time. Women, too. There were women hanging off of men’s arms everywhere, and Arthur hoped the sight would settle you some, as it seemed to settle you having women around in that hotel.

“Over here.” Arthur steered you toward the bar and let you stand behind him as he got the barman’s attention. He placed his order and handed more money over, thinking he needed to count through all he had left before the trip was over. He didn’t want to find himself without the means to get back to his gang. The bartender handed him two beers, and all thought of that washed away as Arthur pushed back through the growing crowd with you and made for a less populated wall to stand against.

Enjoying the first taste of his beer with more satisfaction than he could name, Arthur sat back and watched you. He had to keep from laughing at the way your head kept turning in all directions to take everything in. This would be a regular night for him, given that the gang had made it into town, but for you it was likely a whole new world.

“Careful not to hurt your neck there,” he said, smiling over his beer.

You shot him a dirty glance but saw him drinking and seemed to remember the beer in your own hand. You brought it to your mouth to take a sip, and Arthur couldn’t resist watching the way your lips touched the bottle. Something shot through him at the sight that he let be for once.

“God, that’s terrible,” you said, cringing. “Is there any alcohol that doesn’t taste like shit?”

He chuckled. “Probably not. But that’s not why you drink it.” He thought of how much gin he had downed with you that had led to a kiss and knew that to be true.

The pair of you took to arguing over how well you could handle yourself in a town like this before a game of poker across the way got so rowdy it couldn’t be ignored any longer.

“Ever played cards?” he asked.

You shook your head. “Don’t know how.”

“Come watch me then. I’ll show you.” And, at your sudden reluctance, “Relax, I won’t make you play.”

You eyed him and took another swig of beer before cringing just as noticeably, motioning at him to lead the way.

There were only two players left sitting at the poker table, but both had such high stacks of chips that Arthur knew better than to get in on the game until after one busted. Those high stakes were also why a crowd had gathered and was cheering so loudly for one man or the other. The pair of you watched alongside them, most rooting for the yellow-haired working stiff nearest you. The other man, a well-dressed but worse for wear man with a hatted, dark-haired head had men cheering for him that all looked just like him—well-dressed but sloppy.

“Stick it to him, boy!” someone shouted at the working man. His cards were visible to those standing behind him, showing a strong hand—two high-value diamonds to the flop’s two of the same suit.

Arthur knew as the turn revealed the third diamond—giving the man a flush—that he had his opponent beat. And sure enough, he went all in. Either bluffing or drunk, the other man followed suit and swiftly lost all his winnings.

“Now, now hold on,” he slurred, standing. “I saw him stick that diamond up his sleeve an hour ago!”

“Awe, save it, Lawrence!” someone in the crowd shouted back.

Arthur was too amused to notice you leave until he turned to find you gone entirely. Panic overtook him before he spotted you against the nearest wall, watching from a distance. He stormed over.

“What are you doing running off like that?”

“I didn’t want to be in the middle of…whatever that is.” You pointed to the poker table, and Arthur watched as the interaction between the two players started to get heated, the slimy-looking one not wanting to pay up.

He turned back to you. “Fair enough. But warn me next time.”

You eyed him.

“What?”

“Nothing.” You turned your attention back to the others, taking another sip of beer. And Arthur was mad at you for it, for distracting him like that when he should have been giving you a piece of his mind. But instead he watched your mouth again, watched as your lips pursed against the glass and thought of how they had felt against his own. He turned away and took a sizable drink himself.

To take his mind off of things, Arthur started explaining poker to you, namely the game that had just been played. You asked a few of the usual questions—what call and check meant and why the seedy man’s high card didn’t win him the game. Arthur finally seemed to explain things well enough that you said, “I get it. Go play then. I’ll watch.”

“I ain’t leaving you over here.”

“I know you want to play, Arthur. Go. I’ll stand closer if it makes you feel better.”

The sarcasm lining your words had him ready to argue.

“Just go,” you said with a small smile, pushing against his chest. Your hands on him made him comply. Made him melt into compliance, more like.

“I’m…getting another beer,” he said. “Then poker.” He hadn’t even realized he was out until then.

“Go then. I’ll be fine here.” Arthur really didn’t want to leave you. But you were looking at him with a light in your eyes you didn’t normally have. And he knew, stubborn fool that he was, that he wouldn’t always be there to protect you. Now was as good a time as any to test you when you were so comfortable being left alone.

“Stay here,” he said, voice filled with as much authority as he could muster.

“Yes, Arthur,” you teased, and even that did something funny to his insides. Christ, what the hell was he doing, getting so worked up? He needed to be drunker than this. Much drunker.

Two beers later and deep in his cards, Arthur kept turning to make sure you were there. You always were, usually shaking your head at him for the way he played his cards—he was almost out of chips to show for it.

He had a decent hand but not a great one when he heard you come up behind him and whisper, “Fold.”

“Why?”

“Because I saw the other man’s cards.”

Arthur had to stifle his laugh, but he did as you said. Then he was finishing his beer, cashing in while he still had some money left, and leaving the table. Only when you were far enough away so as not to be overheard did he turn to you. “That’s cheating, you know. I didn’t take you for a cheater.”

“I didn’t take you for a terrible card player.”

“I walked into that,” Arthur said as he stepped up to the bar to order yet another beer, this time two. Once in hand, he gave you the second one. “Cheers.”

You looked around for something to do with your empty bottle. “Here,” Arthur said on a laugh, forgetting how much you really didn’t know about this sort of thing. He took it, set it on the bar top, and turned back to you. “Now. To long, miserable, back-breaking travel. And not long left to go.” He held his bottle neck out to yours.

You smiled. “To you, Arthur.” You clinked the bottles together.

“Awe, come on, nameless. Don’t get sappy on me now.”

That smile of yours remained, and Arthur returned it before turning his bottle up.

The night went on, more beer drank and more people spilling in the doors than you had likely ever seen in your life. Arthur knew he was due to be cut off when he saw a few patrons dancing and thought it a good idea for the two of you to join them. Just for a moment. Then he came to his senses. But he asked you anyway, knowing it would irk you.

“Spare me a dance?” He held his hand out to you.

You swatted it away. “Very funny.”

“I’m serious.”

“No, you’re not. I don’t think you know the meaning of that word.”

He barked a laugh. “Probably not.”

“Why don’t you show me this big, bad outlaw I’m supposed to be traveling with instead?”

“What?” He turned to you, shocked you brought it up.

“I keep hearing about him,” you joked. “Haven’t seen him for myself yet.”

“And you ain’t going to. You don’t want to.”

You leaned in close to talk low, and Arthur made a point not to look at you lest he think about how easy it would be to kiss you. “You mean to tell me you haven’t thought of picking anyone’s pocket tonight? Not one?”

Truth be told, he had. It was overcrowded, the patrons were drunk, and it would be easy enough to get lost or blame it on someone else if things went south. But he wouldn’t risk that with you here.

“Maybe,” he said.

“Some outlaw you are,” you teased, and the winning smile you gave him stopped him in his tracks. Half for the look of it, half for how happy you could be while talking about the worst parts of him. Like it didn’t matter that he wasn’t a good man. Like you enjoyed his company anyway. He couldn’t say how much that meant to him.

“Anyway,” you droned on, finishing the last of your beer. “Let’s go back. I’m tired.”

“You’re even whinier when you’re drunk,” he quipped, but he downed his beer too, even through the particularly hard hit you landed on his arm for that one.

He got up and motioned toward the door. “Lead the way then.” You shot him a mischievous look he wanted to kiss right off your mouth. But too quickly, you turned and nearly disappeared into the crowd, so for the second time, Arthur grabbed your hand to keep up with you. The warmth of it in his grasp filled him with whatever happiness he had left. Especially when you wound your fingers through his and led him on.

The two of you made it outside, and only then did you drop his hand, never bringing any attention to the fact that you held it in the first place. He wanted to grab yours again, keep it held in his all the way back. But, he realized, you were already walking, not looking back. He jogged to catch up. Then, like a fool, he debated threading his fingers through yours every step of the way back. He never quite found the courage.

It only hit Arthur that you were about to join him in this hotel bedroom, and that he very much didn’t want to sleep on the floor, when you stepped through its doorway. He watched you shed your coat and hat and boots, doing the same so as not to draw attention to the way his eyes caught on you. After he got his satchel and gun belt off, he turned to find you already curled up in the bed like a cat.

“You’re not sleeping on the floor again, are you?” you said through a yawn.

“My back may never recover,” he joked.

“Come up here then.”

You said it so simply—such an easy thing to agree to. He knew he shouldn’t have, but he couldn’t resist doing it. So he lifted the sheets and laid down beside you, letting you curl around him in a way that had his heart pounding through his shirt. You laid your head right on it and yawned again. “I can hear your heartbeat.”

“That’s a relief. Let me know if it stops.”

You let out a laugh. A genuine, easy laugh that had Arthur wanting to turn your face to his and kiss you then and there. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. The two of you were just lonely and drunk and had each other for company. That didn’t mean he could do something you may not want from him—something you didn’t understand. Not to mention how it would eat at him when he had to leave you so soon. So, he didn’t turn your face to his. He wrapped his arm around you instead and pulled you close, his head resting atop yours in a way that was so comforting it was almost worse.

“I’m glad you’re here, Arthur.”

Your voice was small, heavy with tiredness. And the words cut into him, because he was the one you wanted to help heal your loneliness. Of all people, him.

“I’m glad to be here, nameless.” He truly was.

After long enough that he thought you asleep, you whispered, “Not nameless.”

“What then?” He had never wanted to know a name so badly in all his life.

You just yawned again, curling against him. “I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

Arthur smiled, looking forward, for the first time in a long time, to waking up.

_________

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multiplicationdivision · 8 months

Text

Transfiguration

Vic laughed as Chuck cheered at the tv screen.

He had been boisterous since Vic had put him there, excited to spend some free time with his buddy and a few games of prerecorded basketball. Typically, Chuck would be watching these alone at night, coming home at odd hours from work.

It felt good every time Vic could make some time for him. His excitement was always infectious, pushing Vic to be just as invested in the games. Of course, Vic would cheer for the other team to keep it interesting.

The past two games had them cussing each other out numerous times, all in good spirits of course. Vic would mirror his best friend in energy as they both took goals far too personally, shouting at each other to “get fucked” or “suck it nerd!”.

It was a lot of fun every time. Didn’t hurt that these hang outs were directly correlated with the lack of Richard in the apartment. He was an awkward guy and knew it. Got along fine with Chuck but when it was just him and Vic in the apartment, time just dragged. That was unfortunate considering Chuck was the only of the three with an in-person job.

Vic didn’t hate the guy, he was nice in his own right. Never a single problem in their living together, but both men knew they held zero chemistry. Richard was the type of guy to spend his time reading, while Vic just needed a little more fun as a companion. Someone who would go with him to go rock climbing with or to get some wrestling in.

Vic could appreciate Rich though on days like this. Rich was the only reason he got Chuck on weekdays, when the guy was typically so busy. He’d wracked up a big debt to the guy just for the opportunity of getting to kiss his buddy when the big man should be rewiring a house or something.

Vic was just shifting to make a move on the guy when he heard the door lock click. That was a shame. A post-game makeout sesh was his favorite part. When they were both still far too energized to sit with it.

This fun was over though. Chuck groaned beside him, realizing that too.

A familiar face opened the door. That same fluffy brown hair and scratchy stubble that Vic was just fantasizing about, now on a tired face. He still looked fine as hell, but working in cramped spaces with heavy equipment all day always drained the man.

It didn’t help that his eyes immediately locked onto Vic and the other Chuck, face immediately grimaced into annoyance.

“Seriously man” he said, gesturing to his clone. “Stop doing this”

His clone snorted, rolling his eyes. “Shut up man, you're bringing down the vibe”

“Don’t tell me to shut up, you don’t get a say” Chuck snapped, “You’re not even supposed to exist”

That riled up the Chuck on the couch. “Well Vic thinks I’m pretty great! Spent the whole day with him when he needed me”

There was some humor in that, Vic could sort of see. The word need was maybe excessive. Did he need to do this, no. Did he want to do this, yes. Either way, he didn’t feel that bad about it.

“Richard was fine with it, so I don’t see the problem” Vic spoke up.

“You never see the problem and Rich is always fucking fine with it” the uniformed Chuck argued. “You two always end up doing this shit when you’re alone”

That was true. Vic and Rich just couldn’t stand the weirdness between each other. Vic got quickly annoyed at every conversation with the man that was stunted and weird. They’d awkwardly inhabit the same living space and be stuck in that unbearable situation of each other’s presence. Vic was pretty sure it was just some unrelenting sexual tension between the two, but Rich was about his straightness despite the way he evidently got hard watching Vic lift in the living room.

Honestly the fact that they could probably fuck and fix the whole rotten vibe was all the more frustrating to Vic. Rich was just too unfixably emotionally distant.

Fortunately, Vic wasn’t just an excellent at home worker.

Magic ran deep in his family and transfiguration was a specialization of his. Turning one thing to another was easy as pie, with just the snap of a finger.

Vic typically didn’t abuse it, although according to Chuck, he’d been abusing it more and more. Vic personally didn’t think he was at fault for it though. He didn’t even ask Rich this time if he could do it.

Chuck had left in his tight little electrician uniform, leaving nothing to the imagination. Vic had sulked as he was left to his devices, finishing his work super early as usual.

He’d just been about to head off to the gym when there was that oh so familiar knock on his bedroom door. The only time Rich ever really came to his door, equally bored. Coming to lean on the same vice they both used time and time again when they were both lonely and done with work. Rich had even already raided Chuck’s closet for an outfit, ready for what Vic would do.

He’d snapped and Rich’s body expanded and sculpted into the same Chuck that had left just an hour or two before. The distant gaze of Rich smoothed over as that jovial confidence took over, replacing the man in body and soul. The only thing remaining from Rich being that excitement in his eyes at the prospect of free time. Actual enjoyable free time, rather than the lonely free time all three of them would typically spend apart.

It was always wild facing the Chuck that would get angry about his creation of duplicates, considering that every fresh Chuck seemed so happy to be created. They’d come into existence with a roll of their eyes and a quick kiss before they pulled him off on whatever activity Chuck had been waiting for time to do.

The work Chuck would always argue with his double when they met, demanding that Vic turn the other him back into Rich.

Like now.

“You had your fun Vic, just bring Rich back” the uniformed Chuck said. “I just don’t want to deal with this”

“I don’t fucking want to be Rich” his twin argued back. “It’s not like you’re even the original Chuck anyways”

“Fuck off thats not true”

It was probably true. Vic had definitely forgotten which was which after a couple instances of this arguing. Sometimes the uniformed Chuck would shower and change, then go back to bickering with his clone. He’d always dress practically the same as his clone and then it was nearly impossible to differentiate the two. He’d just wait for the two to inevitably pass out and pick at random.

Vic didn’t really understand the drama of it all. There was still always one Chuck in the end. That was far better than what his family did most of the time. Hell his oldest brother had permanently replaced his father with a copy of himself. It wasn’t even a big deal, that shit was common. Now he just had two big brothers and one less shitty father.

Thinking about it, he should probably visit those guys soon. He missed them and they would find this shit funny.

Vic felt the need to butt in again.

“You know, Chuck, you’re not really convincing me that you’re MY Chuck” he said, putting his arm around the Chuck that had spent the day with him. That Chuck preened at the contact. “I quite like this guy”

The uniformed Chuck’s eyes widened in frustration. “I know you fucking like him, because he’s me. Why can’t you just wait for me to come home and hang out?”

“You always come home at like 1 am, I need more than that” Vic argued, using the edge of the basic commitment of a relationship.

Both Chucks cringed at that. For all that Vic probably abused his power, it really could be prevented by them making some time for him. They were more than just friends with benefits.

Chuck seemed to relent a bit. “I know…. It’s just I rather we figure that out than you give me an existential crisis every week. Its fucking distracting”

Distracting was the key word. Vic knew his buddy deep down. Not distressing or terrifying, but distressing. Vic wasn’t a sociopath, even if his views of transfiguration had different ethics than what a normal person would think. He’d seen his family drive people mad with change their minds and bodies before, unable to cope with their identities being putty.

Vic knew his friend wasn’t like that, no matter this weird charade he always put on. Chuck was like Rich in that way, always wanting something without being able to be honest with himself.

Chuck had a knack for that adrenaline, finding way too much pleasure in impermanence. It was the reason they always had such killer sex when there were two of him, Chuck riding high on the feeling of being so deep under Vic’s sway. Knowing that at any moment, Chuck could be shifted into a completely different person.

Chuck was at conflict with himself though and a degree of self preservation always stuck around to make him pissy whenever he discovered another him. It would be frustrating to Vic if he didn’t himself get a good time at watching the two Chucks get hard as they argued.

“I think I should stick around at least for the night” the clone Chuck argued. He definitely was planning to try and switch places with the “original” Chuck.

“Yeah like that’s gonna work”, the “original” argued back, knowing the strategy because he’d used it himself. “I’m gonna take a fucking shower, I don’t want to feel gross and continue this bullshit”

“Yeah well I wanted to take one too”

“It doesn’t matter if you want one, that would be wasting water. It’s not like you’re going to be around for much longer”

They both sprinted to the shower. Vic had seen it before, they’d inevitably go in together. Chuck was competitive like that and both would competitively get each other off. Vic couldn’t understand how Chuck convinced himself that he didn’t enjoy this.

Vic called his bros as the two audibly fought in the shower. They didn’t pick up, the call going to voice message at the sound of both of his older brothers’ pre-recorded message about calling again. He wondered how his brother stayed so invested in keeping another him around. Vic had done it a couple times as a freshman in college, but it had been only interesting for a bit.

He couldn’t keep it exciting like Chuck seemed to be able to. He could hear them audibly fucking in there, arguing with each other about being quiet. He was glad they were bad at that part, rubbing his own dick as he listened to them.

It was times like this that he fantasized about just keeping the two of them. Rich was great but he could always just turn another guy into Rich. Rich probably wouldn’t care, considering the man loved Chuck. There were a couple dicks at the gym that Vic could imagine would make a good Rich. Maybe even Rich(s) plural. Maybe Rich spending time alone with himself would fix his stupid masculinity crisis.

He was almost at completion at that idea when the two Chucks came stumbling out of the shower, fighting over the single towel. He glanced over at their wet brown hair, the two actually towelling each other off even as they still played at not enjoying it.

He focused again on the tv as they got dressed.

As he expected, moments later they were out again. Both were dressed in nearly identical clothes, both wearing comfortable tank tops and joggers. He turned his brain back into their bickering.

“You’re not even the original”

“I’m pretty sure I’m the original”

“I was the one who went to fucking work today, you’re Rich”

“Do you have any proof? Vic just turn him back”

“Eh pass” Vic said, pretending not to care. “Might just turn you both to Rich if y’all don’t feel like actually giving me proof”

The Chucks balked at that. Unconsciously as they both turned on him and not each other, one of the Chuck’s wrapped his arm around the other in solidarity.

“I have work tomorrow, you can’t do that”

“Yeah you can’t do that to us!”

“Again buds, not seeing any proof that you deserve to stick around” Vic said with a mocking threat. It wasn’t a real threat that he’d turn them into Rich. He’d quite decided on keeping the two around. At least until they all got bored of it at least. “need some convincing”

The two Chucks glanced at each other before fighting as they both fell on the couch. This was when the actual fun began. Vic gestured at his cock and the two pushed at each other, taking “turns” sucking him off. Vic sat there taking it in before pushing them off when he wanted a turn, reaching under both of their pants to grip their cocks. Having the two completely at his mercy as they collapse under his rough touch.

It went on like that for what was probably an hour. Vic would push them at each other and in their lust they would fuck as he watched. He made one of them watch as he held the other down, threatening to transfigure him if he couldn’t take it. The whole time the other Chuck taunting his double as he demanded Vic to change him mid fucking.

This was their routine, this weird edge of an identity crisis and an orgasm. Brought back Vic’s memories of the past months, repeating variations of this same scenario over and over in the bedroom. Making Vic fall deeper and deeper in love with this crazy man who revelled in Vic’s twisted little power.

Vic felt so good as they were slumped there, relaxed in the aftermath of it all. The two Chucks on top of each other, having fallen asleep in near perfect synchrony. They’d wake up tomorrow to see he hadn’t changed one of them back into Rich. There would be a whole lot of fun from that. He was so spent but even his dick couldn’t help weakly hardening at the idea of the two of the Chucks doing their morning runs together.

He was definitely gonna have to go to the gym to get another Rich. He couldn’t imagine ruining this shit when it was proving to be such a good idea.

Part 2:

#identical #copy #shapeshift #clones #male shapeshift #personality change #mage space #my writing #male tf #male transformation

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