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tonycries · 3 months

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Brooklyn Baby - G.S.

Synopsis. Everybody wanted to fuck Suguru Geto, lead bassist of Tokyo Special Grades. Said Suguru doesn’t want to fuck anyone else but you. He couldn’t give less of a fuck if anyone walked in right now. In fact, a small part of him wishes someone would.

Pairing. Geto Suguru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, rock star! AU, fwb-to-lovers, unprotected sex, oral sex (male receiving), fingering (female receiving), Suguru is sinfully sexy and in l*ve with you, Satoru is a menace, pet names (darling, my girl), Suguru has tattoos and piercings, swearing.

Word count. 3.2k (DAMN I got carried away)

A/N. Happy Valentine’s day! *throws somewhat-fluffy smut at you and leaves*

Art by @_3aem on X.

Also, wild west! AU longfic with someone dropping on Sunday night (EST), keep your eyes peeled yeehaw.

Everybody wanted to fuck Suguru Geto, lead bassist of Tokyo Special Grades.

You did. Your fans did. Hell, you’ve even caught your overworked band manager sneaking a few too many glances.

And, you conclude, the groupies currently batting their lashes at him definitely did.

You watch as they swarm to him during open rehearsal, giggling at his pretty smiles.

Whatever, part of the job anyway.

It’s not like you two were dating. Yeah, a few fucks here and there throughout the years - but what’s one to do when on the road and in such close proximity with a guy that’s practically walking sex?

Trying not to scowl, you turn away from the commotion, continuing to tune the strings of your trusty Fender. You’ve had your fair share of die-hard fans, so lately why did it bother you so much when Suguru entertained their thinly-veiled advances?

“Ohoho~ Quite a look on your face there, why don’t you go and caress his biceps too?~” you hear idiot brigade member #1, Gojo Satoru, cackle from beside you.

If looks could kill, Satoru would’ve been 6 feet under and rotting already. “I thought you stopped writing band fanfiction, Satoru.” you raise a brow.

“THAT WAS ONE TIME.” he whines dramatically, clinging onto you and shaking you back and forth as if to knock the memory of his Wattpad tendencies out of you. “WHY ATTACK ME JUST CUZ YOU’RE JEALOUS? C’MOOON ADMIT IT.”

You were not jealous.

Suguru knew you were jealous.

Sneaking a glance, he had to fight the urge to coo at the adorable little furrow of your brows. How unprofessional would it be if he walked off mid-conversation to kiss that pout off your lips?

He knows it’s just sex for you. But - foolishly - every time he held you he could only hope that he ran through your mind as often as you did through his. It elated Suguru to know you were getting that worked up over him.

That is until, out of the corner of his eye, he spots Satoru draping himself all over you, whispering god-knows-what into your ears.

The rational part of Suguru knows Satoru is a very touchy person, but why was he so…close? And why weren’t you pushing him off?

Smile tightening into something a little more artificial, he turns to the girls fawning over him. “Well, ladies, I’m sorry to say I’ve gotta go practice before Shoko yells at me again. I’ll see you all in the front row, yeah?” he lies smoothly, disappointed whines following him as he makes a beeline for your figure.

“Well! What have we here, Satoru, are you done tuning?” Suguru pops a head between yours and Satoru’s overly close ones, interrupting whatever conversation you were heatedly whispering. What was so important that you two needed to be that close to talk anyway?

He narrows his eyes at Satoru’s surprised ones, an invisible conversation taking place between them before Satoru cracks a smug grin. “Alright alright. I’ll go tune my guitar.” he rolls his eyes, heading for his electric blue Gibson.

Your confused gaze meets the twinkling eyes now boring down at you. “Done with the meet-n-greet already?” you question, eyes darting to the group now watching you two like hawks.

The smile on Suguru’s face grows, “Yeah, remembered I didn’t do my pre-concert rituals right.”

“Oh?”

“Wanna help me with it?”

He doesn’t give you time to answer. Quickly setting down your guitar, he drags you out into the corridor - hand tightly in yours and pointedly ignoring Satoru’s wolf-whistles.

Hallway sex is overrated, Suguru believes - which is why he heads for the dressing room.

“Pre-concert rituals” his ass, Suguru just thinks he might pass away if he doesn’t get his hands on you right now. Make you feel like his.

It’s not long before the door is locked and he has you bent over the vanity, knuckle-deep in your dripping cunt.

“S-Sugu! Why now? The concert- Hah-” You gasp in pleasure as two long fingers probe inside of you, ruthlessly searching for the spot that Suguru knows would have your toes curling and eyes watering deliciously.

“Fuck the concert, darling. Barely even started and already so wet f’me.” he drawls out over your whimpers. “Wanted you to come over y’know? And save me from those groupies trying to get in my pants.”

In your lust-hazed mind, you find the words to respond to him, “You s-seemed to - hah - be enjoying that.”

“Of course not.” he leaves a trail of kisses down your back, “Wasn’t my favorite girl.” he whispers into your heated skin.

He’s being rougher than usual, he knows. In the back of his mind he wonders what it was that he was so pissed at. But all thoughts of that are thrown out the window once he presses into that plushy spot inside your wet core, drawing a sinful whine from your mouth. There.

Pulling back to tease your folds with your own slick, he plunges into your swollen pussy once more, easily hitting that spot over and over.

“Hngh- Suguru, more!” you grind your hips to meet his merciless rhythm, clenching around his fingers.

You feel as if you’re losing your sanity when he adds in another finger, walls burning as your cunt stretches around his thick rings.

Suguru was definitely losing his sanity.

Anyone could walk by. The concert was about to start any second now. But he couldn’t give less of a fuck, too focused on how his fingers were being sucked back in every time he pulls out, your pretty pussy dripping all over his numerous bracelets.

He has to hold back a moan at the way your ass jiggled every time your hips buck to meet his fingers.

Leaning down over you, he hums lowly into your ear “So desperate for me, hm?”. Pressing the erection straining against his trousers against you, he huffs out “I’m the same, darling. You drive me absolutely mad.”

He feels the way you squirm in impatience at the large outline of his dick, raising your ass in an attempt to get more friction. Eyes crinkling in satisfaction, he pushes down on his girl’s slutty hips, cold rings digging into the small of your waist.

“Now now…not yet.” he tuts mockingly.

“Please, Suguru. Please let me cum.”

Increasing his pace, abusing your g-spot relentlessly, Suguru knew by your breathy moans of his name that you were getting close.

His hand moves from your waist, leaving behind purple marks to remember him by. They wander the expanse of your body - groping your curves, and pinching your nipples through your thin top - delighting in your mewls.

God, you were perfect. He really needed to take his time with you later.

Suguru’s hands, nail polish chipped and fingers calloused from years of playing, finally rest on your face. He pushes your cheeks together, drool pooling at the corner of your mouth and forcing you to look at him through the vanity mirror in front of you. Your dazed eyes meet his darkened ones.

Suguru was so feral. The man that was usually the personification of grace and poise was falling apart at the seams. His eyes wild and grin spread devilishly as his fingers abuse your cunt never-endingly.

“Look at me when you cum.” he murmurs raspily into your neck, teeth ghosting over your rapid pulse.

You don’t know what it is that sends you over the edge - maybe it was his lustful words, or the way his fingers quirked just right inside of you. All you know is you’re cumming all over Suguru’s fingers, hands clutching the vanity table and eyes locked with Suguru’s in the mirror, mouth dropping into a gasp.

“Fuck! Suguru- Suguru!” you whimper.

Suguru watches in wonder as you ride out your orgasm, using him. He couldn’t give less of a fuck if anyone walked in right now. In fact, a small part of him wishes someone would.

Let them see how beautifully you fall apart because of him.

Finally pulling out, Suguru inspects his fingers. “Now now. That won’t do.” he purrs.

His tongue erotically licks up your juices covering his rings, still holding eye contact with you through the mirror. He catches the way your thighs press together at his lewd act. ‘Oh? Want some?“ he teases.

Before you can retort, he’s bullying his fingers into your mouth, making you taste yourself.

The way you moan around him sends blood rushing straight to his cock. Fuck, he has to steel himself from cumming in his pants right then and there - that wouldn’t be very “sex icon” of him.

You have no idea what you do to him.

Not willing to wait any longer, he leisurely takes a seat on the spacious vanity sofa. You whine at the loss of contact before catching the predatory look in his eyes. Suguru was going to eat you alive.

“Come on, darling. Show me how badly you want me.” he grins, legs spreading and prominent bulge on display.

You take a second to admire the view. Tousled black hair falling enticingly along Suguru’s muscled shoulders, tattooed dragon peeking through where his shirt was messed up. His eyes lustful, and locked on you.

He was devastatingly handsome. Your mouth waters at the chance to get what so many people would kill for.

Suguru chuckles as you struggle to unbuckle his belt - did rock stars have to always wear such complicated trousers?

Finally, you pull them down along with his boxers to expose his creamy thighs. Suguru’s throbbing erection lays on his abs, flushed a delicate pale pink.

Your pussy quivers with excitement as you press wet kisses to Suguru’s leaking head, precum dripping down his length to where you’d gently grasped him. A strangled hiss leaves his mouth as you swirl your tongue around the slit. You find yourself lost in his heady taste - he tastes so good.

“Having fun, darling? C’mon now, use me the way you want.” he murmurs, need laced into his voice.

You’ve never gotten used to how big Suguru is. Soft groans leave his mouth as you flatten your tongue and take him in inch by inch, eyes locked with his blown-out ones.

Suguru’s back arches as the heat of your mouth envelops him, hands bunching your hair into a messy ponytail. His pornographic groans echo across the dressing room as you suck on his cock, tongue swirling in just the way you knew he liked.

He can’t even catch his breath with the way you bob your head so heavenly, sucking the soul out of him. It drives him wild to think about how he’s got his lead guitarist on her knees, choking on his cock as your fans wait outside.

Suguru’s eyes roll to the back of his head as you pop off his cock to take his heavy balls into your mouth, moaning around them as you suck on both erotically.

Shit, he was really feeling it today.

Through the bangs now sticking to his forehead, he makes out the way your thighs grind against each other for relief.

You were, too.

If this keeps up he really will lose his sanity.

“As much as I’d love to paint your pretty face with my cum, I think we both prefer it inside, no?” he grits out, cock twitching at the strings of spit and precum connecting you to him as he pulls you off.

“Need you inside me so badly.” you nod, brain foggy and filled with only Suguru.

He’s quick to lift you into his lap, resting your ass against his pulsing cock, sly grin spreading at the way you’re already so fucked out.

Suguru feels like he could cum just from the sensation of your juices smearing all over his length, pussy dripping and aching for his throbbing cock.

“Oh yeah? How bad?” he purrs, eyes half-lidded and already knowing the answer.

“Please. I want you to fuck me so badly, Suguru.”

“Badly enough that you’d fuck me out there - where everyone is? Show ‘em who I belong to?”

“Yes.”

At your whimper, Suguru thrusts fully inside you, a moan of relief leaving you both as you finally get what you’ve been craving for.

“Shit, so tight. Always so good for me, darling.”

Once you start, it’s hard to stop, Suguru finds.

It happened when he first fucked you in high school - in his car after your first show, running on adrenaline and teenage hormones. And, years later, it’s happening now as he sheathes himself in your wet cunt.

He just can’t get enough.

He fucks you animalistically, cock ramming in and out of your hole in a way that makes it feel like you’re missing something without him. Nothing in the world other than your two connected bodies. He feels you clamping down on him deliciously, ego growing at you struggling to accommodate his size.

“F-fuck, darling. Hah- It’s s’tight. Take it like my good girl.”

“Hngh- Suguru, faster!” you groan, fingers delicately playing with the nipple piercings peeking out of his barely-buttoned shirt, euphoric at his drawn-out moans.

Unlike Satoru - who takes off his shirt every chance he gets onstage - Suguru was one to shy away from showing skin, slutty piercings and tattoos hidden to the world. It just makes it all the more satisfying as you lick a long stripe along the dragon on his shoulder.

Feels like your little secret. You wanted to be the only one to see this ethereal sight.

“Ah- So good, darling.” Suguru leans back, allowing you more room to play with him as you please. Cock twitching - so close - as you bore into his eyes, sucking his flashy piercings.

He ramps up his pace, bouncing you on his cock in a way that was carnal. It was so feral, the way his balls sting as they smack your ass, a ring of spit and precum forming around his base.

His cock aches for release, but he wants to see you cum first. His pretty girl, cumming all over his throbbing cock.

You pull yourself off his swollen nipples and attach your mouth with his, tongues swirling sensually as he kisses you like he needed you to breathe.

He’s almost as unforgiving with his mouth as he is with his cock. Almost.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

“YOOO I don’t know if ‘pre-concert rituals’ was a code-word for something else but we’re on in twenty minutes.” the unmistakable voice of Suguru’s best friend - and occasional bane-of-his-existence - made you two jump apart.

“The ultimate cockblock.” Suguru sighs out - his pace, however, does not slow down. Each harsh thrust makes it difficult to muffle your yelps of pleasure from Satoru, who was still calling for you two from outside.

Noticing your predicament, Suguru grins dangerously. “Oh? My poor girl finds it hard to stop her moans? Aww, better try harder unless you want dear Satoru finding out.” he mocks in your ear.

Both humiliated and turned on by his words, your dripping pussy clenches around his cock. He lets out a choked-up groan, biting hard into the crook of your neck to stop it.

A satisfied smile spreads across your face, “Who should try harder now, Suguru?”

Ah, perfect. You were perfect, perfect for him.

As Satoru’s yells about “cutting a chunk out of Suguru’s pay” disappear across the hallway, both of you let out exhales of relief.

“Dangerous game you played there, mister.” you raise a brow, teasingly.

He chuckles out, before pulling you to him closer by the waist. Lips ghosting over your own, he whispers “Only with you, my darling.”

Slightly more clear-headed but still dripping with lust, you meet the bounce of Suguru’s hips with your own. Eyes still locked with yours, he stuffs you with every inch - tip kissing your cervix so painfully good.

The steady slapping of skin and synchronized moans fill the room, blocking out the cheering of the audience awaiting your band.

Yet, the air crackled with something different this time. For the first time, it didn’t just feel like just mindless fucking.

Bite mark on your neck stinging, you could feel Sugurus heartbeat thundering under your touch - synchronized with your own.

In this moment it felt like just you two in this world.

You wanted to be the only one in his world. Not his fangirls, not some manager, not anyone else.

Maybe that was the reason for your courage, feeling like everything has finally come to a boiling point.

“S-Suguru.” you breathe out as you feel yourself getting closer.

“Mhm?” brows furrowed, he looks up at you with a tenderness in his eyes that does not translate to the merciless cadence of his hips.

“Be mine.”

And that’s all Suguru ever wanted.

With a final hard thrust of his cock, he pulls you into a searing kiss that sends you both over the edge. He cums in hot spurts, thick ropes of seed filling your quivering cunt. It was feral - and it made you feel like his.

Suguru’s seed drips down the side of his length, forming a white ring at his base as he fucks it deeper into you, letting you ride out your highs together.

As your climaxes bate, he buries his face in your neck, kissing softly over the mark from before. “To be yours is everything I could ever want, darling.” he breathes out, hugging you closer as if to hide this vulnerable moment. But you feel the heat of his cheeks on your skin.

Embracing him, you gather his beautiful black locks in your hand, fingers deftly taking the hair tie around your wrist to tie his long hair into a messy ponytail.

Pulling back, you admire Suguru’s angelic features. Face flushed, lips swollen, and dark eyes half-lidded as he stares up at you in surprise.

“Wanted to see your pretty face.” you huff out a low laugh.

The expression on Suguru’s face is indescribable, such pure adoration in his eyes.

Voice low, he murmurs words meant only for you, “I…I’m in lov-”

“HEYYY I’m serious, stop doing the devil’s tango and GET THE FUCK OUT.” Satoru’s voice bellows once again through the door, shattering the little bubble you and Suguru had found refuge in.

“Ah- um-”

“You-”

Both of you stammer out at once, chuckling at how shy you were acting with one another even after all that had transpired in this room.

“We should probably go, before Satoru and Shoko pop a blood vessel.” Suguru jokes. You laugh out in agreement as he carries you tenderly to the washroom, his interrupted words weighing heavily on both your minds. It’s okay, you have time.

Rapidly cleaned up and dressed, Suguru stops, a hand on the dressing room doorknob. “”Hey..” he starts almost-hesitantly, “After the concert, would you maybe want to-”

“Yes.” you interrupt, excitement lacing your voice.

Chuckling in pure euphoria as you both exit, your smiles turn more sheepish as you’re faced with a bored-looking Shoko and an impatient Satoru tapping his foot. “You horny lil’ fuckers almost missed the show, think of my poor fans~” he exclaims, though the glee in his eyes at your intertwined hands was very evident.

“Hope the sex was good at least.” Shoko drones out, eyes flitting over your guilty flushed faces.

‘Oh yeah, and Suguru - next time you dump your fangirls on me, I chop your balls off.“ she chirps out, pointing her drumsticks threateningly at his neck as you all head back.

Blinding lights.

Deafening screams.

Hair pulled into a messy ponytail, he was fatally beautiful onstage.

Everybody wanted to fuck Suguru Geto, lead bassist of Tokyo Special Grades.

But he only wanted to fuck you.

A/N. MMMMM long-haired men.

Plagiarism not authorized.

#geto x reader #geto x you #geto smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #geto suguru smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fic #jjk #geto suguru #tonywrites

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gremlingottoosilly · 10 days

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okay now i need mafia!könig as a dad and him enjoying his son so much that he fills you up with another😋😋

At least you have nannies and servants to help with his son. Little Paul is a menace even at his young age - and it doesn't help that his father seems to have grown feral as soon as he learned about the pregnancy. It's like a light switch was turned on - it's like everything he wished for, in the form of one small human and his mother. If you think your mafia husband was possessive before, never allowing you to leave his side without a few dozen bodyguards, some more hidden than the others, you knew nothing. It was already three or four months spent without going out for anything - and with servants tending to your son, you've grown bored. Pliant. Paul is breastfed mostly on your whim since you want at least something to do before chirping nannies will go flocking to take him to play. You can't even play with him without a couple of servants trying to get him out of your hands just so you could "rest and prepare yourself for his daddy". You hate having nothing to do - and you hate having Konig fawn over you like your body isn't covered in stretch marks and like remaining pregnancy hormones are not ready to choke him with your bare hands. Konig presses his face against your tummy, now empty - and he whispers how much he'd love to fill it up with his seed again. The doctor advised against having back-to-back pregnancies, judging by how big Paul was and how taxing it was on your body - but Konig just kisses you over and over again. Promises to get you the best medical treatment, whispering how it's fine, he can afford to have multiple children. How much he wants to give your son a baby sister to adore or a baby brother to take care of. You can't force Konig out when he is like this - your baby is in the other room, with his favorite nannies, and your husband is proving that with enough fucking per day, you just wouldn't have time for postpartum depression. Konig can't breed you quite right now, but he does everything in his power to make you remember how nice it was to be filled to the brim, and how much he wants to repeat it. The night always ends with you on your back, begging for his cock - and with him finally fucking you, treating your body like it's made of glass. You never thought that Konig would have such a soft spot for children, but he allows his son to crawl all over him when he gets older, and you have to physically remove baby from his arms or else Konig would just allow him to go to every criminal meeting - and you want to save his innocence for as long as possible. Until, at least, he is old enough to ask why mommy is never allowed outside.

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig #cod x reader #yandere cod #mafia!konig

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a-hazbin-reader · 2 months

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Alastor gets that DILF energy. He’s doing whatever with his kid, holding the baby and just chilling when suddenly reader pounces on him because she finds it so attractive. He doesn’t know what’s going on, but his wife suddenly being… excited isn’t always fun and he won’t say no

YOO-

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Suggestive, ALASTOR GETTING LAID, ALASTOR BEING PUSHED TO HIS LIMIT, Wife is H O R N Y

Description: ☝️⬆️

Alastor has taken to fatherhood more easily than even he had expected, loving and protecting his little family with an intense fierceness

He loves watching his wife tend to their babies, something about it making his chest swell with happiness and pride

He didn't consider that watching him act paternal would do things to his beloved wife

The first time it happens, he doesn't see the correlation at all, just assuming his wife had been feeling pent up

He was putting his children down for bed, arguing with his adorably mouthy little girl while giving her brother his favorite plushie(he needs it to sleep)

"Now I know you're upset with this arrangement, little one, but you and your brother must get some shut eye."

She's visibly displeased, rubbing her eye as she fights off sleep, leaning on his shoulder as she pouts

Alastor sees you watching him in the doorway, a fond smile on your face as you watch him try to convince your daughter to sleep

What he doesn't see is the small flush on your face, the way your eyes follow his arms as he lays the baby down or the way you swallow as he kisses both his children goodnight

Seeing him so caring and gentle and soft is just-doing things to you

Alastor isn't sure WHAT is happening when as soon as the door closes behind him, you're pulling him into the bedroom by his collar

"My dear, what-mmf!"

Later, when he's laying in bed naked, staring up at the ceiling while you doze on his chest, he'll wonder what got into you

Not that he minded, it was just unexpected

The second time it happens?? Alastor has an inkling of what might be setting you off but doesn't know for sure

His son had tripped and fallen, crying his little eyes out, the impact probably having scared him more than any real pain

But Alastor hates seeing his baby boy cry, so he picked him up and gently examined his son's hands, blowing on the little scratches there before kissing them

"There~ Papa made it all better, see?"

The boy simply sniffled and wrapped his little arms around Alastor's neck, seeking the comfort of his father

And Alastor couldn't deny the way his heart swelled, rubbing his son's back as he rocked and soothed the baby

Not even two minutes after he had put down his son, who was suddenly enamored with Vaggie and following her, did Alastor feel a menacing aura

All he felt was his wife's hand on his shoulder before he was suddenly being dragged up the stairs

He barely has time to register your lips on his neck and hands wandering under his clothes before you're cooing at him to touch you

Ah well...how can he say no to such a generous request?

Husk doesn't say anything when a disheveled Alastor stumbles out of the room hours later and drinks everything in sight before going back

Just keep playing with the babies, Husk...just keep playing with the babies...

Alastor starts to legitimately worry that you'll get pregnant again at this point...so soon after the last time...

Alastor is ready for it the third time, having decided to test out his theory and see if he's right

So he's deliberate in playing with his children in front of you, watching your reaction out of the corner of his eye

You're sitting and reading, not even looking up at them...

The twins are currently hiding from him, their little ears poking out from behind the couch as they giggle and try to keep quiet

Alastor is slow and purposeful as he stalks around the couch, brushing a hand against the back of your neck as he passes by

"Now where could my little fawns be hiding, hm~? Surely not...over...HERE~!"

They scream and scramble to run away from their father, only to be scooped up by his strong arms and held close

Now you're glancing over your book at them, your eyes zeroing in on your husband

He's kissing and nuzzling the twins, their little hands pushing his face away as they squirm, unaware of how futile it is

Alastor looks so smug when you put your book down and start to really take an interest in what he's doing

He gives piggyback rides, tosses and catches them, chases them and everything else he can think of

All while being painfully aware of your heated gaze on him

And if he was purposefully teasing you and drawing out a little extra time with his kids... who was gonna know?

So he isn't surprised when Charlie and Vaggie are being put in charge of baby duty, and Alastor is being lead upstairs

He's ready for it when the door locks behind him and you're guiding his hands over your body

He's about ready to tap out when you roll over on top of him, straddling his lap and encouraging him to go again

"Darling...are you sure you're not in heat or something?"

You laugh at him and it's the scariest yet sexiest thing he's ever heard, his manhood curious but confused by his emotions

"Don't tell me your well has gone dry, darling~ Charlie said she'd watch the kids for us all night~"

He wakes up the next day feeling like he got hit by truck, his throat is parched and he has dried sweat on him-

He hears the bedroom door open, and his wife looks so innocent and happy, not at all like the bedroom monster he keeps meeting

You come up and kiss his forehead, sitting down next to him before handing him a glass of water

"Good morning, darling~ Our babies are waiting to see you so hurry up and get out of bed~"

He watches you walk out of the room, a small part of him proud of the slight wobble in your step but a larger part of him scared for his life

He never thought he would go out like this-

Worth it though 👌

HERE! TAKE IT BEFORE MY FACE MELTS FROM BLUSHING

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin x reader

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welcometomyoasis · 19 days

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Seventeen's reaction to you wearing heatless hair curlers

Synopsis: What would seventeen’s reaction be like when they see you wearing heatless hair curlers. Svt x gn! reader | fluff | 0.64k words | warnings: reader is assumed to have hair long enough to use the curlers | requested by anon A/n: sorry this is so short :( i hope you still like it anon!

⚘ He melts at how adorable you look

Seungcheol, Wonwoo, Minghao, Woozi (Yes even Woozi because he’s a big ol’ softie)

When you step into the room, he immediately melts. How can a human being be so adorable? He’ll do a once over to look at you. With your hair wrapped up in all those curlers, and you wearing your favourite clothes before bed, you look extra fluffy and squishable. He’ll definitely fawn all over you because he thinks you’re just the cutest thing ever. And also because he’s imagining you with your hair curled once the curlers are out. You’re going to look extra pretty. He’ll coo at you and make grabby hands while also patting the seat next to him for you so you can sit down. He’ll pat your head, giggling every single time his hand makes contact with the curlers. There’s this subtle bounce that he likes to see and feel. Be warned though, his seventeen ring might get caught in your curlers!

⚘ He laughs at how funny you look (endearingly of course)

Jeonghan, Joshua, Junhui, Vernon, Dino

He’s a menace so he’s going to laugh at you as soon as you whip out the heatless hair curling tools. Once you put it in your hair though? He’s rolling on the floor, clutching at his stomach and laughing until there are tears coming out of his eyes. Don’t get him wrong, he thinks you’re so adorable, but it’s just that you look so funny. Kind of like a clown wearing a really colourful, balloon hat. He’ll poke and tug at the curlers despite you slapping his hands away lightly. He can’t help it, he’s both amused and curious at how these things work. Like you just put it in your hair and then *magic* the hair stays curled for hours? He’s going to continue annoying you for a while. Don’t worry, he’ll shut up immediately when you threaten to put the curlers in his hair to make him look like a poodle.

⚘ He screams out of fright at how scary you look

Hoshi, Dokyeom, Mingyu, Seungkwan

What is this monstrosity walking into the room? Your head and your hair looks so big and weird. There’s weird things curled into your hair, and the same weird things are sticking out of your head at the same time. He definitely gets the shock of his life and screams out of fear. Although you give him a pointed look and reassure him that it’s just your curlers, he’s still not convinced that your head isn’t full of snakes. He’s going to stare at you from a distance and poke at your head timidly. He might scream or yelp a couple more times when the curlers bounce back from all the poking. He’ll only calm down when he’s sure that those things that you call curlers are safe. That said, he might still get scared in the middle of the night so be prepared to get woken up to something pulling at your hair frantically while screaming…

⚘ Bonus: Junhui

After Junhui laughs at you, he would become extremely fascinated with the curlers. Like the sizes of the curlers are all different depending on your hair length? Then, he starts thinking and a cheeky evil grin appears on his face. Next thing you know, he’s grabbing your pet cat and trying to put the curlers in its fur. Somehow your cat just lets him? By the next morning, Junhui is gleefully pulling the curlers out, and you're left with a very fluffy, chubby cat whose fur is all curled nicely. Junhui might even borrow one of kkuma’s bows, making your cat look like a posh, spoiled princess.

taglist: @weird-bookworm @wonijinjin @babyleostuff @wishing-fieshes @kwanienies @mayashu @megseungmin @porridgesblog @haecien @mirxzii @scoupsofcherries @eightlightstar @brownsugarbaybee @zaggprincess2 @nonononranghaee @hrts4hanniehae @treehouse-mouse @vcutparis @heavenfilm

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gluedwithgold · 2 months

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Just a page of random doodles I made instead of doing homework lol

Leshy and Fawn are besties and everyone suffers because of that. Just two chaotic magic forest creetures what could go wrong!?

And Valefar is a strong lady in a pretty dress because yes 😌

I can't consistently draw Fawn's cloak so now they just have a ton of similar looking cloaks or something...

#cult of the lamb #cotl #cult of the lamb au #cotl au #cult of the lamb oc #cotl oc #agent of chaos au #fawn is a menace #my art #mostly shitposting #Valefar doesnt get paid enough for this #actually shes not getting paid at all

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livingemkayde · 8 months

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en route

joel miller x f!reader (post outbreak) | 3.5k

↳ warnings: this is rated for 18+ only! minors, please do not interact. smut, unprotected pinv, fingering f!recieving, light choking, dom!joel, a mild enemies to lovers mixed with sunshine!reader and grumpy!joel miller. no use of y/n. let me know if i forgot anything.

↳ a /n: hey guys...heres a little one shot in a followers/blog milestone celebratory fashion (!!!!!!!). this sort of turned into a one shot from the scrapped ideas regarding my new series. its also helping me gear up for taking on the task of beginning to write a new dynamic (i am definitely putting off completing chaser because i have an emotional attachment to that story BUT itll be out sometime this week). i love you all so, so, so much. you have no idea. thank you for everything (can you tell i live for a flashback fic).

if you would like to read more of mine: masterlist!

“You’re—” he quirks his brow at your attempts, “you’re an asshole, Joel,” you finalize. He takes a step toward you. You take a step back. “You’re rude. And inconsiderate—” he smirks, it makes you more mad, “—and snarky and a jerk for no reason.” Your back hits the hallway’s wall. He takes another experimental step towards you. “Okay. Yeah, keep going,” Joel breathes out, encourages, like you're amusing. “What else am I?”

You can’t stand him.

You really can’t stand him. Hate is a strong word. Maybe not one you use often. But the disdain you feel for Joel Miller hinges to the breaking point each time you run into him.

What a fucking asshole — you finally willed yourself to believe after weeks of kindness. It was practically seeping from your skin but it seemed to brush off his worn leather winter coat onto the fresh powder. It died there, and so did your hopeless attempts.

“Hi,” you breathed out, that first fateful time. It was a surprisingly clear winter night. He had just moved in. The women were fawning over him, ogling, jaws dropping in the town square. You just observed and tried to keep your face neutral. As neutral as you can be.

But Joel stood in front of you and just grunted in response.

It made you try harder.

“I brought these — made these for you,” you said, extending a pack of sandwiches for him and the girl you happened to see by his side. You figured she was with him. You traded a hell of a lot to get the meat for the sandwiches. But kindness and new neighbors seemed to fare well. At least in your very limited experience.

“What is this?” he questioned. He didn’t take them from your hands. His fingers—big and rough and calloused, picked at the skin of its own. He didn’t take a step outside the threshold. You were suddenly unwelcome. You felt the weight of the sandwiches grow tiresome in your outstretched arm.

“Sandwiches. Thought I’d say hello since you’re new around here,” you smiled, sort of shaking the pack, here — fucking — just take them, jesus.

But he didn’t, and your arm grew tired, and so did your smile.

“‘M good, thanks,” he mumbled in response, and shut the door in your face.

And yes, of course he was handsome. He was — rugged — and you can see the wired muscles stretch the cotton of his shirt on patrol sometimes. In those especially unfortunate circumstances where Tommy has the nerve to pair you two up together.

Handsome, yes. With a hulking bounding step over snow, and menacing shadow when he towers over you. A southern drawl—something so pitch-deep and honey-like, something you’ve never heard before. Not until you met him. And you were nursing a stupid hopeless crush over a guy you hate, but not really. And that drove you insane.

Because he was fucking, rude, yes. Definitely.

But you lost it. That last time you saw him. Because what’s worse was he wasn’t even being Joel Miller, his usually brooding self. He was being — nice? Kind? Funny? Maybe. You weren’t sure. You couldn’t hear much over the piercing ringing in your ears.

“You like this route, Joel?” you said, peering over your shoulder at him on horseback.

You tried to keep it up, the kindness, the fucking — benefit of the doubt bullshit. You really did. He seemed keen on it sometimes more often than not.

“‘S fine,” he replied back in a rumpled, annoyed way.

“You gotta see my favorite part,” you say, almost to yourself, almost forgetting about his dark drawl, only thinking about the meadow half a mile from the checkpoint.

He just snorted at that. You just tried to keep a happy face on.

The songbirds twinkled around in the surrounding trees. The winter snow was receding, making the small dribble of water a full stream. You followed it, straying slightly from the beaten path, earning a couple protesting growls from Joel, but you ignored his pleas, and surprisingly, he just followed you.

You got off your horse. Joel followed suit. You trudged across a little bend of water. He let out a scoff sounding more like a complaint each time he let one echo in the silence of the forest.

“C’mon,” you said, smiling, that time, a real smile. Maybe this would make him smile too.

You reached the crest of the small hill, hiked up your sleeves over your elbows, and bent down to touch the soft petals of the flowers beneath you.

“Look,” you said, sending him a sideways glance behind you. He was still clamoring to the top of the hill.

“Yeah, alright,” he groveled. You ignored him.

Joel joined you at your side, his chest puffing slightly out of your skewed peripheral vision.

“‘S beautiful, isn’t it?” you said to no one in particular. He didn’t respond. You didn’t expect him to.

You bend down, picking a strewn orange flower blossom from the floor. Something broken off with the wind.

“This what you do all day? Pick flowers?” he mumbled.

“Maybe,” you grinned, maybe you were finally getting him to crack, too. “And what do you do all day?”

“Not this,” he said, shaking his head.

“Really?” you said, “Enlighten me. What does Joel Miller do everyday?”

“Joel Miller minds his business,” he replied, snarky, but he smirked.

It made you a little scared, you remember. Maybe you were under some sort of falsehood that made hating Joel Miller easy. So when he actually talks to you, teases, follows you through the meadow, it seems a little intimidating suddenly.

It’s different.

It’s fucking weird.

“Which one’s your — favorite,” he whispered, gesturing out to the field in a vague sort of motion with open palms.

“Lilies,” you replied, tense. You pointed down at a brighter purple lily plant to your right. Joel’s eyes followed your hand.

You wouldn’t dare look at him, but you could feel him moving beside you. He was in front of you suddenly, his indomitable presence made you turn your head and look up at him through the sunlight.

He lifted his hand, in line with your ear. Your head backed away from it instinctually, but you kept a keen gaze on his eyes.

Your brows knit together. So did his. Your mouth parted, almost speaking into the soft mountain air. But he moved his hand again, closer to your face. And you saw a flash of something orange. Like the little flower you picked up. He brushed those big calloused fingertips on your cheek, and slipped the orange flower between hair atop your ear.

You were so confused, you didn’t know what to say. But it was bad. He was risky. You tried not to think of the fact that maybe, if he wasn’t so fucking rude, and you didn’t hate him so much, maybe that small little schoolgirl crush would blossom into something bigger.

Because that’s all it was. A small, fucking stupid crush. He teases you. Pulls at your hair. Shoves you off the monkeybars. You put on a kind face anyways.

And you hate him for that. Decidedly.

“We should go,” you whispered. He dropped his hand. You both rode back in silence.

That put you in a horrible mood for the rest of the day. And when you went to sleep and woke up this morning still in a horrible mood, you know exactly why.

Joel Miller doesn’t get to do this. He can’t make you hate him and then pull the rug out from underneath you. Especially not with something as low as putting a fucking flower behind your ear.

You show up at the patrol meeting in an equally sour mood.

And maybe, yeah, you are being irrational. But at this moment you couldn't care less.

You find the assignment board for next week and see your name card slotted under Joels.

“Perfect,” you huff, already moving quickly out of the building, saving your usual chit chatting for another time. Maybe when you’re less pissed off.

“Hey,” a voice calls after you and you know. You could pick that voice out of a hundred recordings. It pulls you back, and you fight hard to keep moving forward. You’re close to your house already so you continue walking.

He calls your name this time.

You don’t falter in your huffing steps.

“Stop,” he says, grabbing at your arm, pulling you around towards him. When he sees your face, he hesitates. Though the air seems a little humid and sticky, you wrap your arms around yourself. A shield.

“What, Joel?”

“You—left,” he breathes out, looking down to your body slightly. It’s unnerving, him making you squirm.

“Yes. I’m leaving,” you roll your eyes, turning around again, but he locks hard onto your arm and pulls you back to him.

“What’s—” you shake out of his grip, “what’re you doin’?”

“I’m going home,” you say, and then under your breath, “Obviously.”

“What’d you say?” He's a bit defensive now, maybe falling back into old habits. Back when things were so perfectly hostile between you two.

“I’m going home, Joel,” you say, annoyed. “Is that okay with you?”

He doesn’t say anything. His mouth parts in confusion. You start walking again, this time, he lets you, falling in time with your steps next to you.

“Are you alright?” he says, almost worried now. Your footsteps fall faster as you see your mailbox sneak into view.

“I thought Joel Miller minded his business,” you grumble under your breath. But loud enough for him to hear. You know it. You reach your porch, stepping onto it. The morning dew springs to life from the vibrations of your rough boot.

“So you’re gonna throw a tantrum?” he growls, following you up, reaching the first step, you, on the top one.

“Real mature,” you say, turning around, hands on hips.

“Right,” he nods and looks down to his feet, “Ignoring people is mature?”

“‘M not!” you say, looking down at him, throwing your hands out at your sides, “You’re right here talking to me!”

“Yeah ‘n I had to chase you down the fuckin’ street,” he extends one arm towards the road.

“No one asked you to,” you bite, the venom sneaking past your lips.

He doesn’t even flinch.

“You wanna play that?” he mumbles. An empty threat at best. You hope.

“No,” you say. Tears are already in your eyes. “No, I don’t wanna — fucking — do this anymore, Joel,” you whisper while unlocking the door and walking inside. It doesn’t shut behind you, not all the way. And you hear his boots follow you in.

“The hell is your problem?” his voice echoes. He follows you in your house, to the skinny hallway which leads to your room.

You spin around, pushing at his chest with a pointed finger.

“You are my fucking problem,” you affirm.

You crane your neck to look up at him. His hair is pushed back, like he just got out of the shower before attending the patrol meeting. His chest puffs in time with your rapid heartbeat.

He doesn’t leave. He doesn’t say anything.

“You’re—” he quirks his brow at your attempts, “you’re an asshole, Joel,” you finalize.

He takes a step toward you. You take a step back.

“You’re rude. And inconsiderate—” he smirks, it makes you more mad, “—and snarky and a jerk for no reason.”

Your back hits the hallway’s wall. He takes another experimental step towards you.

“Okay. Yeah, keep going,” Joel breathes out, encourages, like you're amusing. “What else am I?”

“You’re —” your breath accidentally catches in your throat. He places his palm on the cold wall next to your head, leaning down closer to you. He’s fucking intoxicating. You’re drunk off his lowbrow and the curls that form at the base of his neck. What you wouldn't give to run your fingers through them right now—

“C’mon,” he chastises. His mouth is so close to yours, you keep switching between his eyes and his lips.

“You’re an asshole,” you mumble.

“Yeah?” you nod. “You already said that, baby.”

Baby.

“Don’t stop,” his lips get closer to yours, “What else?”

“You’re…” you look at his lips. He gets so close that his chest brushes up against yours. “You’re mean…and you’re arrogant.”

You find it in you to put your open palms gently on his chest. You don’t find it in you to push him back. It’s not like you want to push him back though, not when all you need is to bring him closer. His breath punches gently on top of your nose.

“Can I tell you what I think?” he grumbles, you shudder. He snakes his head down to whisper in your ear. His beard brushes the delicate skin on your neck.

“I think,” his lips brush over the spot right under your ear. You breathe so hard you might get light headed. “You’re a pain in my ass,” the hand on the wall catches on your waist. You squirm against his body.

“With your distractions, and your sandwiches, and your little flowers,” he’s so close, he’s almost kissing you. He slots his thigh between yours.

“Shut up,” you say, because that’s all you can say right now. The dark hallway encases him in the shadows. Even when he picks his head back up and looks into your eyes.

“Careful,” he warns.

You stay there, silence filling the air. Your shoulder blades dig into the wall there.

“You need to learn some manners,” he mumbles, shaking his head, looking down at your lips.

“I have manners,” you breathe, admittedly a little shaky, “just not for — fucking —”

“Not for what?” He smirks.

“Not for you,” you push against his chest again. He doesn’t flinch.

“Yeah?” something in his tone makes you fight harder, “You gonna be a bad girl?”

“Shut up,” you say, because you don’t trust yourself. You brace yourself against the wall in a desperate attempt not to whine. He’s making you slip. You silently chastise yourself. What happened to ‘Joel Miller doesn’t get to do this’?

You suppose all rational thought flies out the window when his roughed hands land on you.

“You can be a bad girl,” he said, pushing his fingers under your shirt. They’re surprisingly warm. You fight the urge to groan. Your eyes flicker down to your bodies touching and drag them back to his eyes. “I’ll teach you how to be a good girl, too.”

“Fuck,” you whisper, half under your breath. Joel’s eyes dance with yours, flickering from your lips to your left eye, to your right. Your nose, your eyebrows. Then back down to your parted mouth. You’re fighting a losing battle, you both are. You had no chance of winning it. Not even in the slightest, not at all. And you both know it.

So, fuck.

You kiss him. You learn forward, as much as the space between you will allow, and kiss him. He smells like pinewood, and fresh soap, and something smokey. He almost tastes sweet. His fingers splay across your waist. You feel the tips of them dig in there. You fight the urge to groan when you shift on top of his thigh slotted between your legs.

He hauls you into your bedroom, you sink down on the bed. He takes off his flannel. He’s slow, in his movements, almost like he’s teasing you.

Punishing you.

“Joel,” you say. You hate how you sound so whiny, so desperate. But after all, maybe you are desperate for him.

“Sit back,” is all he says, in that honeyed drawl.

You do.

Joel stands in front of your slightly open legs, playing with the hem of your shirt in his fingers.

Contemplating.

“You gonna be a good girl?” he mumbles, his eyebrows furrow. He doesn’t look at you, just raises your shirt up slightly.

And you know what? You don’t have an explanation for it. But you just say it—

“Yes,” while looking up at him. The salt and pepper on his patchy beard. His hardened brow and quirked lip. His fingers drift from the hem of your shirt up, up, up. Until his thumb grazes your nipple and you moan at the feeling.

“Open your mouth,” he murmurs, his thumb playing at your chin, your bottom lip. Your hands dig into the comforter at his words. Your bottom jaw slowly falls under the weight of his singular thumb.

He pushes in, tugging your mouth open. You suck his finger obediently.

“‘S good—baby,” he whispers so low under his breath you aren’t sure if you heard him correctly.

You look up at him through your lashes, he pushes you back with his hand in your mouth until you’re laying flat on the bed.

“Take off your clothes,” he says, pulling back his hand. While he shucks off his shirt, you undress frantically.

You snap your legs shut when your panties are finally off. The cold air bites at your ankles.

He nudges them apart until he’s slotted in between your open thighs. Your cunt stares back at him, glistening.

He runs his hands along your frame, kneading at the skin on your thighs. His fingers, big and rough and calloused—but it feels fucking good.

“Fuck—” you puff out, reaching for him, “I—”

He puts his finger up to his lips. Quiet. He says.

You listen.

“Just let me—” he says, drifting off when his fingers brush over your cunt. “Jesus—baby,” he mumbles, running his thumb through your slick. You moan and whine against his hand.

“Joel,” you say again. Pleading.

“I know,” he is all he says before twisting his hand and slipping a thick finger into your cunt. You gasp, grabbing at his shoulders and at the cotton beneath you. His free hand comes up near your neck, resting there. Not really doing anything.

“You’re loud,” he points out, pumping out, adding a second because you’re so wet. You moan, gasp, whimper.

“’N you never fuckin’ listen.” he mumbles, looking at his fingers pumping out of you.

“I do—”

He shuts you up with a strong hand wrapping around your neck. Not enough pressure to really do anything, but enough pressure to cut your words short halfway garbled into an excuse.

“Is that what you needed?” he groans, straining against his boxers, rutting up against your thigh. “Needed someone to tell you what to do?”

You’re close. You moan. He thumbs at your clit. You nestle your face into the crook of his neck, whimpering into his ear. His hand finds yours, pinning it back to the gray cotton there.

“You needed me, baby?” he drawls.

Just when you’re about to come, he stops. Your eyes widen, he’s breathing heavily, his fingers are statues deep inside you.

“Joel—just, fucking—” you whine. He starts pulling his fingers out, receding away from you. “No—fuck, please, I—please,” you reach for him.

He looks at you. You whimper.

“I—fuck—I needed you,” you whisper. And you think to yourself that it’s true. “I need—you.”

His face goes soft.

“Okay,” Joel breathes, pulling out, but reaching down to take himself out of his boxers. Your legs part silently. “Fuck, angel. Okay.”

He guides himself through your folds, you squirm underneath him. He mumbles something into your ear but you can’t focus on anything besides he dull stretch when he pushes past your walls. He’s stretching you out already, just the tip. But the pain feels surprisingly good.

“God, Joel,” you whine. He goes slow. Excruciatingly slow.

“You—” he eases into you. He groans against your hair. “You’re — fuck.”

“Shit,” you curse out, he slips into you all the way, until his hips are flush with you. “Shit—you feel f-fucking good.”

He stays like that for a bit, letting you mold around him. He pants into your ear. You scratch designs into his back. Memorabilia for when he returns back to his house and gets a good look in the mirror. You grasp at the curls at the nape of his neck. They’re soft. Just like you thought they might’ve been.

He pulls out—almost all the way. And then thrusts back in. You both gasp into each other’s mouths.

“Goddamn — tight, fuck,” he says, finding a pace that elicites the most unintelligible moans from you and sets it. He’s rough—but not too rough. And he’s hitting that spot that inches you further to a pulling blinding light.

“Good, fucking girl—” he moans, he holds himself up above you with a strong hand next to your head. “You’re doin’ so—fuck—so good, pretty girl.”

Maybe it’s the pretty girl. Or his praise, or his cock punching deep inside you, so deep that you can feel him in your fucking stomach, but you get closer. Tighter around him. He can feel it too.

“Joel—gonna—ngh—” you whimper. He hikes your leg over his hip, hitting something deeper.

“C’mon, angel,” he groans, “lemme — ah — lemme f-feel you.”

He drags it out of you, your muscles pull taut and your vision pulls white and he keeps going through it all. You moan, whimper, maybe even yell. But he keeps up his relentless pace. You dig your fingers in his back, marking him with little crescents to go with all the rest of them.

“Fuck—fuck,” he pants, his hips stuttering while you clench around him.

He thrusts into you, one, two, three more times, your aftershocks sending towards his release.

He lets out a broken groan spilling into you, rocking his hips with each pulse of his cock. “Shit,” he says, gripping your waist, “You — jesus, fuck.”

Joel collapses down next to you. He cleans you up, too. You both drift off to sleep. He kisses your forehead in between a floating, dreamless slumber.

Somewhere between then and dinner he leaves, mumbling in your ear. You’re too tired to wake up and walk him to the door. And when you wake up, and make your way downstairs you spot it, sitting pretty on your front porch through the glass.

A little makeshift bouquet, with fraying string wrapped around two stems.

Lilies.

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thisisnotthenerd · 8 months

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god what a fantastic finale of mentopolis. phenomenal work from everyone.

a list of my favorite things about this episode:

concocting a plan to both get money from don avaricci while not killing conrad. the character arc that dan fucks went through in mentopolis was slow but my god was it funny

imelda flashing her boobs and getting four gangsters on her side

dan flashing his dick and getting it shot immediately. on sight.

the diamond hard balls coming back to deflect the bullets

the mechanical changes that came from the key-pressure combination

ivana rolling a 59. truly what the fuck. two nat 20s and a 19 in front of the board. they watched that happen in real time. and trapp rolling a one sturdy. getting punched a quarter mile out of the station.

dan's heroic sacrifice for conrad fully made me tear up. the fact that he was distracted by the glorious revolution of pleasure does not detract from this

the adrenaline injection moment and curios moxie intake

all of the effort that went into medical attention for dan. fucking wilton. the hand spit guy is dan fucks' dad?!?!?!

the fix taking that key from madam loathing! he did it! he put it in his craw!

conrad talking madam loathing down with a d100 spirit roll! sometimes the mechanics really do tell stories in a way you just can't get in standard media

the 11 sturdy. the 57 spirit. (alex's favorite number because it's the number of Heinz varieties)

elias taking the initiative and getting going

the fix menacing don avaricci with dinoflagellates and punching the shit out of him

the birthday cake!

elias getting an ice skating date with the coffee shop girl!!!!!!!!

i owe my sister a call!!!!!!!

the entire epilogue was great: elias becoming a whistleblower and getting the mind control shut down, anastasia & fawn's relationship, conrad & dan fucks' business partnership, curio finding foot stuff

the fix and pasha get their own bullet point. half of that was hank and brennan just fully flirting. going to madam loathing's to: find ichabod, who had been running nostalgia's, stuck in the past for so long, propose (after 20 years of marriage? Hank what is happening?), find out madam loathing, now guilta is going on a self-discovery trip, fully just get her house, and custody of all of elias' repressed childhood interests!

anastasia running for public office alongside frank freeze (pay attention!) after getting the DA arrested in court

and of course, imelda capping it off with chattanooga choo choo

truly what a fantastic season. while both of the kids on bikes/brooms seasons i.e. mismag and mentopolis were fantastic, i think mentopolis had just enough time to really get a little more crunchy mechanically, and that resulted in some great moments in this finale specifically. this is a sidequest i will be coming back to for rewatching. i loved it.

#dimension 20 #dimension 20 spoilers #mentopolis #mentopolis spoilers #conrad schintz #anastasia tension #hunch curio #imelda pulse #dan fucks #the fix #d20 mentopolis

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taixju · 2 years

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whoever is creating these spicy figures of anime men is just pumping them out one after the other, huh?

#first it was eren #then Levi and erwin #now g-gojo #the man who is already a menace to society???#🥲#fawn rambles <3

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pedgito · 4 months

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𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐈𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐎𝐍𝐄

summary | both the miller brothers had a thing for you and you had a thing for them. they give you an ultimatum and you don't like that. so, instead of one, you choose both. [9k]

pairing | joel miller x fem!reader x tommy miller

content warning | 18+ content, as always: no use of y/n, au/no outbreak, age gap (sort of, it's not specificed by tommy & joel are late 40s/early 50s and reader is labebled as younger) bar owner!joel, bartender!tommy, 3somes, flirting, soft!joel (in the beginning), tommy is a little bit of an asshole, oral ( f & m receiving) unprotected piv, aftercare, joel is selfish

author’s note | joel and tommy have no interaction together in this, at least to that extent. so heed the tags and don't read if you don't like, xo.

“Actin’ like you ain’t never gripped a damn bottle in your life,” Tommy grumbles over your shoulder, fingers wrapping around your own until you have a secure hold on the neck, “tight–alright?”

Your lips pull together tensely, forcing down the urge to roll your eyes as he guides your hand through the motions as you fancily flip the bottle upside down to pour out the liquid into the glasses on the counter in quick, careful precision as you filled each one to a certain amount before moving onto the next, but somehow keeping up the swift pace Tommy was asking for.

Or, really, demanding.

He nods quietly behind you, staring back to admire his handiwork, knowing most of that was his own doing and his ability to perfect his showmanship over the past several years of heading the bar under his brother Joel, who owned the bar.

Your relationship with Tommy was…tricky, but Joel—that was an entirely different mess.

He passes the shot off to a few waiting customers enjoying the show, and you have half the mind to think that Tommy is getting off on the fact that you’re openly embarrassing yourself in front of the patrons, but really, he’s just an asshole.

Though, you’ve come to understand that was how Tommy showed his fondness and if he was being overly nice than you’d know something was up—hell would freeze over, pigs would fucking fly, and you might actually accept his advances for once. Not today. Not with him breathing down your neck as he motioned for you to repeat the process on your own.

You take a deep breath, lining up the shot glasses uniformly and turn your wrist to grip the neck of the bottle, finding Tommy in your peripheral as he nods, “Tighter,” He mumbles, “don’t need that thing slippin’ out of your hand mid-rush and Joel chewin’ my ass out over a wasted bottle of bourbon.”

“I dunno,” You tease playfully—

Tommy surges forward and tightens your grip around the bottle.

“Think you’d know a thing or two about a good grip but goddamn.”

“If you keep this up I’m talking to Joel,” You threaten lightly, an airiness to your voice that shouldn’t feel as menacing as it does, but Tommy backs off slightly, grumbling something under his breath, “—good boy.”

Tommy rolls his eyes in annoyance, rolling his shoulder backwards as he rests his hands against his hips. You continue, swinging the bottle around less clumsily than before and pouring out the shots in quick succession—no mess, no spill. It was perfect.

Tommy scratches at his jaw, slightly dejected now as you turn back to look at him.

“What’s next?” You ask with a flashy smile, shoving the bottle square into the middle of his chest.

Joel catches you near the end of that day, shoving a few things away in your assigned locker, thick fingers curling around the open door, subtle smiles gracing his features as he greets you with a nod.

“It’s been a few months,” Joel reminds you, thinking back briefly on how much has changed for you in such a short time—you had friends, a solid job, a place to live, and two boys who you couldn’t help but fawn over—it was natural luck you ended up in this position, “how you holdin’ up?”

And while Joel wasn’t as forward as Tommy in his attraction, you sense it in the way he looks and speaks to you in private, no watchful eyes to spy on you. Besides, Joel seemed private and reserved, so it wasn’t that odd that he felt comfortable approaching you in private.

“Okay, I think.” You answer truthfully, playing with the curled paper of the calendar taped to the inside of your locker, your own fingers curling underneath Joel’s own, pointer fingers touching but unmoving, you glance at him hesitantly before averting your eyes to somewhere beyond him, following the eyeline of the bar as you watched Tommy wipe down the front of the bar.

“Tommy ain’t givin’ you anymore trouble?” He asks, “I know he’s technically your boss and all—”

“And you aren’t?” You chide playfully, eyebrow raised slightly as you pocket your phone and grab your bag, slinging it over your shoulder. “And yeah, but…no more than usual. I can handle Tommy just fine, you know?”

“I know, I know,” He laughs softly, hand moving away from the locker to pat at your shoulder, squeezing gently at your bicep—touches were so familiar with Joel. A hand on your back, a subtle touch of his fingers in the dip of your neck. He had respected your space in the beginning, even with how witfully you charmed him with ease. You enjoyed touch, viewed it as a language of love and didn’t mind when Tommy initiated it either. Often finding your own subconscious movements to cling to and touch the people you conversed with or felt comfortable around—he doesn’t mean much by it, you think, “but, he does still have to listen to me. I am his boss.”

“I pulled that card on him today, actually,” You admit, hand rising to rub at his elbow comfortingly, “he simmered down pretty quick.”

Joel sees the hold you have over his brother, both with your personality and general attraction Tommy felt with—well, most of the people Joel hired to work under him. But, Tommy is teasing with you, testy, and he’s not like that with the others. He’s comfortable enough that he can come off like an asshole knowing you won’t take it personally.

Joel chuckles, glancing back over his shoulder at Tommy before turning back toward you and rubbing a comforting finger under your chin, “Good girl.” He comments sweetly, it has your stomach doing flips no matter the context. It was a normal sort of endearment from Joel, but given the context, it feels like a praise rather than an outright compliment.

You smile shyly and shove his hand away.

“You know, we’re cooking out this weekend if you wanna swing by,” Joel offers, “it’s, uh—for Sarah.”

Sarah. You didn’t know much about her aside from the fact that she died young, around thirteen—it’s been close to twenty years now, but Joel still celebrates her birthday.

You nod half-heartedly, “Yeah I’ll—I’ll try to swing by.”

Joel smiles warmly, before pointing an accusatory finger at his brother across the bar, “Keep his ass in check, alright?”

You smirk, an underlying feeling of…something, feeling dizzy from how openly Joel adored you when it was just the two of you, “Always.”

Austin heat is sticky and humid, clinging to the bare skin of your legs exposed by the short summer dress you wore, strappy and flowy and—while it wasn’t an unusual sight to the Miller boys, they didn’t see it as often as they liked. So, of course, they gawk.

You shove the case of beers into Joel’s waiting grip, a subtle wink as he acknowledges your presence. Quickly crowding in by Tommy who’s already a few beers in, just by his loose nature as he slings an arm over your shoulder, squeezing gently. He sips generously on the last bit of his beer before allowing the rim to hang slack between his fingers.

“Tommy,” You acknowledge graciously—there was always a slight tinge of annoyance with him, not the type that made you angry or upset, but frustrated. Whether just plain frustration or sexual, you couldn’t put your finger on, “already starting the party without me?”

“Come on now,” Tommy teases, “you know it wouldn’t be a real party ‘til you got here.”

“Is anyone else showing up?” You ask curiously, leaning subconsciously into Tommy as your eyes spot Joel several feet away in the kitchen, unpacking the beers. “Tess? Bill?”

The bar was closed today. Always was. It didn’t matter what day Sarah’s birthday landed on.

They had food, drinks, a cake—it was a real party, only missing its esteemed guest.

You’ve only seen Sarah through pictures and heard through stories told by word of mouth, but Joel has never cared about anything more in his life, not until the bar and long after Sarah’s death. He’d named the bar in her honor, a simple but beautiful nod to someone so special in his life. The Monarch.

She loved butterflies. And know, whenever you see them—it’s a little reminder of her presence.

“They can’t make it,” Joel speaks from the kitchen, his mouth downtrodden in its usual scowl, his natural resting face, “so—looks like it’s just us.”

“Can you handle that?” Tommy whispers teasingly in your ear and you elbow him gently in his side, “Hey—she’s already hittin’ me, Joel.”

“Stop pissin’ her off then,” Joel offers, “mind helping me, sweetheart?”

He nods toward that back and you nod quickly in response, but not before pressing a quick hand into Tommy’s side as you pinch him playfully and earn a pitiful shout, giant grin growing on your face as you depart and follow his older brother, giving Tommy an eyeful of your swaying hips, dress barely dipping past the bottom of your ass.

She’s a friend dammit. That was it.

But, it didn’t stop Tommy from crushing on you. Hard. Even at his grown age.

You follow Joel outside with a spark in your step, meeting him at the grill situated on his back deck as he flipped some of the cooking meat, an open beer in his left hand.

“What did you need?” You ask curiously, noticing that he wasn’t speaking now.

“Nothin’,” He admits, “just like having you around.”

You smile softly, wrapping your arms around his bicep, feeling the muscle flex under your touch instinctively, his head turning to glance at you. He huffs out a soft laugh through his nose before returning his attention to the open grill, meticulously flipping the meat.

“Think if I kiss up enough to the boss he’ll give me the day off tomorrow?” You ask curiously, a hint of mischief gracing your tone as you train your eyes where he was looking, even if his gaze flicks toward you for a brief moment.

“Depends.” Joel responds gruffly, setting down the utensil to close the lid of the grill.

You huff a laugh at his ease to respond to your subtle attempts at flirting, completely harmless, but the unspoken tension lingered like a constant.

“On?”

“If you’re being’ literal or not,” Joel offers and it sends a tingle down the base of your spine, his knuckles brushing against your hip from where you’re hanging off of his arm, “cause that can be arranged.”

There’s a brief moment where you think he’s being serious—and in Joel’s mind, he is. But, the slight widening of your eyes as the words leave his mouth have him worried, like maybe he read into this wrong.

He smirks, “I’m kiddin, sweetheart. Long as you can find someone to cover your shift—“

You interrupt him abruptly, calling out to his brother.

“Tommy!“ You half-shout over Joel’s shoulder, causing him to wince and chuckle at the suddenness of it.

Tommy’s trying to pretend like he hasn’t been staring this entire time from across the kitchen, eyes locked on your figure as you draped yourself over his brother, face lighting as you talked and the subtle touches that should be him—at least, he wished it was him.

He clears his throat and heads toward the back door, head popping out before the rest of his body, “Y’all need somethin?”

“Can you cover my shift tomorrow?” You ask, a saccharine smile and a look that Tommy fell for every time, finding you hard parted from Joel now, he notices how your hands smooth out the dress that barely covers your thighs. “Please?”

“Is this what you two are doing now?” Tommy asks, now fully in view as he closes the sliding glass door behind him, “Plottin’ against me—you can’t give her special treatment, you know—“

He points an accusatory finger your way that you swat away, both of your eyes locked on Joel who seems less than interested as he sips on his beer.

“She’s gotta find someone to cover her shift,” Joel explains, “same as everyone else.”

Tommy calls bullshit, knowing Joel would figure it out himself or cover for you—it wasn’t like you did this often, but Tommy was more than aware of all the times he came to your rescue, almost like you were using it against him. A ploy. A devious plan to get under his skin.

He knew Joel liked you—but dammit, he did too.

And even in his steadfast attempt to deny you, you reach out and grab his hand, uncurling yourself from Joel as you approach him—sad eyes and a fake pout.

“Stop that—“ Tommy warns, his voice soft and anything but demanding, but you only lean in closer, and as strong of the man Tommy thinks he is, he breaks, “—god, Fine. I’ll cover your shift.”

You smile wide, right on the edge of celebrating before Tommy is snuffing the joy out.

“On one condition—“ Tommy holds up a finger, and you have to physically stop yourself from rolling your eyes, knowing there was always some sort of but coming with anything Tommy agreed to, “remember that date you flaked out on?”

It was one time—within the first week of you working at a bar. Tommy didn’t waste any time and given your eagerness to try new things, you didn’t shut him down.

But, you psych yourself out and cancel.

Tommy’s always remained slightly jaded by the ordeal and part of that has contributed to your hot and cold relationship and willingness to tease each other but still have no restraints in your frustration toward one another.

“Hey—that’s not,” Fair dies on your tongue, his shoulders shrugged in a firm response, “—fine, yes. I do.”

Tommy raises his eyebrows in obvious question.

Date?

You scrunch your nose in annoyance but quickly relent, “Okay—but I’m picking the place this time. No fucking bars, Tommy.”

Joel listens to the conversation with a scowl, completely unassuming since it was his usual state of emotion.

Tommy holds his hands up in defeat, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Glad y’all got that settled,” Joel interjects with a tone that pulls your attention back to him, “if you’re done flirtin’ with each other I need some help.”

You and Tommy appease Joel quickly, helping him with the food and when you’re finally through dinner, spending a quiet moment around the cake. You don’t sing or anything—Joel hates it. But, he does light a candle and blows it out, signifying another year of her absence.

There’s a quiet moment with Joel toward the end of the night—Tommy is off somewhere in the backyard, presumably cleaning up the grill for he and Joel’s shared space. They were both unmarried and found that living together and splitting the pay was easier than anything else.

“Hey, don’t worry about that,” Joel tells you, slipping the dirty dishes from your hands as he discards them in the sink, “we’ll handle it.”

“You sure?” It felt like the least you could do.

Joel nods, shrugging as he sets his half-drank beer bottle on the counter—he’d lost track of which one it was. Enough that he feels a faint buzz in his system as he thoughts run and he admires your curious face as you tilt your head, wondering why he seemed so…lost.

But, really—it was just that kind of day. It was never good for him, as much as he tried to act like it was. Yet somehow, with you here, he feels more at ease.

“What?” You ask curiously, a playfulness to your tone. “Keep starin’ and I might just have to give you those kisses, Joel.”

And really, it didn’t sound like a bad idea.

Joel gradually moves closer, looking back briefly over his shoulder at Tommy.

He smirks slightly as he turns back to you, catching that soft, familiar smile on your face.

“Don’t think he’d be too happy about that.” Joel tells you, playing with a bracelet clasped around your wrist, his front nearly pressed against your own, so close you could reach out and slip your hands under his flannel, touch the bare skin and finally find out what those older women at the bar were talking about—Joel didn’t get around, but he wasn’t a stranger to a casual hook-up.

“Maybe I want to,” Your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion, “what does Tommy have to do with that?”

“Sweetheart,” Joel breathes and you can’t resist, slipping a few trailing fingers under his shirt, which he quickly grabs with his own hand, tightening around your wrist, “I’m your boss, I can’t.”

The buzz of alcohol impedes you both, smart decision making out the window now.

“Like you don’t already give me special treatment,” You reply flippantly, teasing his obvious weakness, “....Joel.”

You.

Joel kisses you suddenly—you’re only half-expecting it as his large hand rises to cup your face, the other locked firmly around your wrist and he presses his lips firmly against your own.

He tastes like beer and the sweetness of frosting as you lick into his mouth, the hand not held tight in his grip finding its way into the front of his shirt, bunched into the fabric as you sigh into his mouth, the kiss quickly divulging into a battle of who could hold purchase on more of one another, hands exploring as Joel hands find their way over the back of your dress, the tips of his fingers grazing bareskin as he grabs and squeezes your ass, your teeth grazing against his bottom lip as you pull away suddenly, but not by your own doing.

It was Joel, his face flush from the alcohol in his system but also the intensity of the situation. There’s so much unspoken there and both of you want to speak and Joel nearly does before Tommy is shattering the moment, announcing his re-arrival into the house. You chew at your bottom lip thoughtfully as you glance between the two brothers, feelings and thoughts battling in your head.

Tommy was wild and unpredictable and you craved that.

Joel was practical and determined and that’s what you needed.

And selfishly, you wanted them both.

The conversation that happens later that night between Tommy and Joel is anything but civil.

“She agreed, Joel—it’s not like I’m forcin’ her,'' Tommy argues, “She could’ve said no and I wouldn’t care. She knows I like her, ain’t my fault she seems to like me back.”

“You’re still her boss.”

As if he had any leverage, it pops Tommy out of his chair and toward Joel with an accusatory finger.

“And you? You’re my fuckin’ boss so how is that any better? ” Tommy asks and Joel looks away briefly in annoyance, fists curling at his side, “Think I didn’t catch you two earlier? Cut the shit, Joel.”

“This ain’t high school, Tommy,” Joel retorts, “We aren’t fighting over her.”

“Yeah, you made that pretty fuckin’ clear when you decide to make a move on her in the kitchen and then you’re standing here tellin’ me I can’t have her—how about you treat her like a normal person and let her choose, Joel.” Tommy retorts, “Or is that too damn hard for you? Not getting what you want?”

It sparks a deep fire inside Joel. Tommy too. And you really have no choice but to give them an ultimatum—besides, you wanted both. You were getting both.

It isn’t like they planned it, but somehow they manage to coincide and corner you at the same moment—Joel coming out of his office and Tommy rounding the door into the backroom, your frame bent over a box of bar snacks. When you look back, your eyes widen slightly.

“Shit—am I—are you firing me?” You ask, deeply concerned. You weren’t the best bartender, but you tried.

Tommy and Joel share an equally confused look.

“No—no why would you think that?” Joel asks.

You wave your hand vaguely between them both, a serious and concerned look on both of their faces. It wasn’t out of the norm for Joel, but for Tommy, it was unsettling.

“Then, what?” You ask, only slightly annoyed. “We’re not exactly slow on customers right now—”

Another shared look, this time tense. Which one speaks first—it feels like race.

“Look, I already told Joel—” Tommy begins.

“Sweetheart, you need to know somethin’—” Joel interjects.

And it clicks quickly. Very quickly.

The shared look of frustration as they both purse their lips in a tight line, identical hands resting against their hips. This was ridiculous—the fighting, the silent arguing without actually sharing words.

“I’m not choosing.” You tell them forthright and their reaction is less than ideal, like two sad puppies who’ve just been scolded for bad behavior, but they both stay quiet and hang on your words, seeing that you weren’t finished. “If that’s what you’re expecting me to do.”

“No, that’s not—” Joel tries to argue, his voice fairly level for how distraught he seemed.

“I want you both,” You shrug, rising with the box in your grip, “so, if I can’t have that—then no.”

And you leave them with that, stewing in their own thoughts. Their gazes follow you as you walk, shoving past them gently.

“I’m not givin’ up.” Joel tells Tommy instantly, a look of defiance from his younger brother is thrown his way–Tommy was just as stubborn as Joel, if not more.

“Yeah, neither am I.”

Of course, you already knew how you wanted this to go.

You spoke to them both separately, promising a proper date at a specified place on a specific day and time—they wanted you and you wanted them. But, you were doing things your way.

And that is how you end up at the Miller’s brothers home again, a few weeks later, both of the men dumbfounded at how you mastered this plan. They were both wholly faithful to you, agreeing to go along with your plan to lie to the other brother so they wouldn’t get suspicious or upset, but really, you just wanted them both chasing their own tails.

They didn’t realize what was going on until they found themselves both getting ready at the same time that day, something lingering in the air that they couldn’t put their finger on until you were knocking at the door, a wide smile on your face. Joel answers, but Tommy isn’t far behind.

It’s how you end up on the couch later that night, squeezed together and eyes droning into the movie playing on the television screen, lingering touches like burns against your skin. Joel and Tommy are trying to avoid each other, but sometimes they’ll bump fingers and shoot a scowl at each other, but then you’re adjusting yourself to find another comfortable position and their attention is quickly drawn back.

Some of it is spent against Tommy, head resting against his solid chest but Joel’s hands never stray too far, a warm and comforting presence against your shoulder or thigh, a tender rub of his thumb into your sore muscles. Tommy likes to run his fingers along the shell of your ear, his chest shaking with a laugh at the movie every so often—there was little conversation happening and you blamed that on the obvious tension in the air.

When you trade Tommy’s touch for Joel, he’s ready for you.

You tend to like wrapping yourself around him, arms snug around his own like you’ve done a million times before, but you find your fingers dragging along the length of his forearm and he’s more shifty than usual, socked feet crossing and uncrossing as your touch grows, all the while Tommy’s hand firmly on your thigh, squeezing when you squirm a little too much, feet hiked up and resting in his lap. His thumb circles your ankle and rubs, a gentle massage to your bare feet as you sigh and that—that is what catches their attention.

“That feel good?” Tommy asks casually, a genuine question.

You weren’t one to complain about sore, achy feet and muscles from long shifts at the bar, but you weren’t going to turn down a nice massage or welcoming touch. You nod and Tommy smiles, allowing his deft and strong fingers to dig into the muscles of your foot, pulling another sated sigh from your lips. Joel hears the soft release of a breath from your lips and turns his head toward you, a subtle smile pulling at your lips as he stares at you more unabashed and open than usual. It’s the same look he gave you before kissing you the night of the party and you feel it, see it before it happens.

And somehow within the shared exchange, Tommy’s hand has climbed higher along your calf as he massages tenderly until he’s nearly at your apex, supple muscle pliant other his skin as he squeezes. Joel whispers something to you as he leans in, feeling the shift in the environment.

“This alright with you?” Joel asks quietly as you look over at Tommy, who despite himself looks just as eager if not more, like they weren’t completely turned off by the idea that you wanted both of them

Possibly at the same time.

“I think I should be asking you two that…” Your voice trails as Joel’s free hand slips to cup the back of your head, fingers molding with the shape of you as he tilts your head back, allowing him the lead willingly—and Tommy is there, right there at the apex of your thighs and you want is so fucking bad it pains you, physically and mentally.

“Oh, darlin’—there’s a few stories I could tell you,” Tommy offers, fingers lingering over the button of your jeans until you nod, quickly popping the thread apart and allowing his fingers to curl around the waistband of your jeans, tugging gingerly, “but that’s not important.”

Joel mouths at the line of your jaw instead of capturing your lips immediately, dragging out your suffering longer as you assist Tommy in his tug at your jeans, kicking the denim of your ankles as his large hand settles of your clothed pussy, panties damp at the center despite how hard you’ve tried to ignore the instant pleasure they’re touch gave you.

“No, no tell me.” You nod furiously, feeling Joel grins against the side of your face.

“It was a long, long time ago, sweetheart.” Joel defends, “Back in high school and college when Tommy just couldn’t go off and have his own things, always wanting everything his brother had.”

Tommy scoffs, scooting closer to you as he drapes a leg over his lap, spreading you wider for him, his hand following a slow path back and forth—all the way down to the apex of your knee before gradually back up to your pussy, throbbing underneath his touch as his fingers press into the sticky, wet fabric.

“That’s a stretch,” Tommy scoffs, “Anyways, darlin’—we used to, uh—”

Tommy doesn’t know why he feels ashamed to admit. So, Joel does it for him.

“We like to share, sometimes.” Joel explains. “I mean, I’m not in favor of sharin’ you but if that’s what you want…”

You nod furiously, the press of Tommy’s fingers grow stronger as he slips them past the side of your panties, touching the bare seam of your pussy, covered in the copious amount of sweet slick that had accumulated between your thighs.

“Oh, that’s what she wants,” Tommy surmises, a small chuckle hidden within his speech as his mouth hangs open slightly, watching yours grow wider as you gasp, his bare touch like a spark, “isn’t that right?”

You nod again, but that isn’t what he’s looking for.

“Need you to say it, sweetheart.” Joel demands, his hand squeezing at the thigh that wasn’t stretched out over Tommy’s lap, the other resting against your neck now, squeezing the muscle gently under his grip, his lips only a few millimeters from your own now. “Say you want this.”

“I do—fuck, I do,” You whimper, a single digit slipping past your entrance and into you, the stretch not quite what you’re looking for but the touch alone—from Tommy, is enough to drive you mad, “I w—want it. Both of you.”

“I think we can make that happen.” Joel agrees easily, capturing your lips in a searing kiss—heated in a way that has your stomach doing flips and your free hand gripping his grown out hair, peppered with grays but so fucking soft between your fingers.

Tommy slips in a conspicuous second finger in the midst of the heated kiss and it surprises you how good it feels, just graced by the thickness of his fingers but you need more. Want more.

There’s a subtle snarl to the way Tommy admires you so openly, his eyes dragging along the slow rise and fall of your chest and the way you cunt sucks his fingers in with greed and nothing else. He wants to taste you.

There’s a brief look he offers as you break apart from Joel, breathless as you turn your head toward him, Joel’s following as his eyes trail toward the point where Tommy’s fingers are buried inside of you.

“Use those words,” Joel whispers against your cheek, a smirk growing on his face, “don’t be afraid.”

“Whaddya need, darlin’?” Tommy asks enticingly, removing his fingers in an anxious anticipation, wet fingers dragging along your thigh. “Gonna let me taste you?”

“Please, god—please.” You whine pathetically, watching as Tommy dicends without question, removing your panties with a swiftness that deafens the task at hand. It takes a moment as you untangle yourself from Joel to settle more central on the couch, squealing softly as Tommy manhandles your thighs over his shoulder, settled on his knees and his palms pressing flat over the tops of your thighs.

Joel settles solidly behind you after some maneuvering, a sturdiness to his chest that takes the brunt of your weight as you relax against him, his hands quickly finding their way under your shirt and pulling it up until the fabric is bunched under your skin, bare breasts on full display as he runs a gentle, testing touch over them with his palm, eyes closing at the overwhelming sensation of both of them surrounding you. You don’t even have the guise to feel shy that this was the first time they were seeing you like this–it felt normal, like this is what was supposed to happen.

Tommy floats a hot breath against your skin, kissing a line up the inside of your thigh before he speaks, “I got you, darlin’,” He assures you, “—tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you.”

You nod shakily, looking up hesitantly at Joel over your shoulder and he can only offer a grin, though his eyes harbor something much darker. “Tell ‘em, baby.” He urges, “You want him to eat your pussy, right?”

You nod obediently and Joel grabs ahold of your chin gently, guiding your gaze back toward Tommy, feeling the heat of his gaze burn into you.

“Need your mouth, Tommy,” You beg, earning a gentle squeeze of acknowledgement from Joel against your chin, who leans in with a gentle whisper of tell him where as you exhale an even shakier breath than before, “on my pussy—please—”

Tommy snickers softly before he obliges, a slow, languid lick of his tongue through your folds as he starts, ripping a quiet gasp from your chest as your hand instantly finds his hair, overgrown like Joel’s but stark black and gelled back like usual, never a hair out of place.

That wasn’t going to be the case much longer, fingers fisting into his hair and using it as leverage, the slow licks between your lips quickly exploring inside of you, teasing dips into your hole as he chuckles a soft breath which each and every squirm you offered, all while under the intense gaze of Joel, who was clearly holding out—he wouldn’t kiss you as hard as you tried, trained on your face as you challenged his eye contact, not daring to let it go unless he physically forced you to look away. His hand still lingered against your chin but occasionally fled for a comforting touch when things got intense too quickly and you were almost teetering over the edge, but he quickly brought you back down.

And within that, you’re so blinded by pleasure to not realize that he’s instructing Tommy the entire time, only catching onto the last few commands as Tommy devours, making his own selfish noises as he groaned when you pulled a little too tight on his hair, mumbling praises of depravity and a ‘so fuckin’ sweet—always knew you were, darlin’ and the occasional, breathier ‘come on baby—use my face, fuckin’ take it.’.

Joel speaks to Tommy directly, despite keeping his eyes on you.

“Oh, you’re right there, huh?” Joel asks you goadingly, “Need more?”

You nod eagerly, despite how good Tommy’s mouth feels, he was lacking in one important aspect—you couldn’t blame him, he was a little overwhelmed with everything, as were you. But, Joel, he seemed the most-level headed and you were so fucking thankful for it.

“Want him to play with your clit, sweetheart?” He asks, “S’that what you need?”

“Ye—Yes.” You stutter, the gentle squeeze of your breast under Joel’s grip causing you to clench around Tommy’s tongue and he flicks his eyes up toward you both and there was no telling how pathetic you looked, but Tommy seemed just as equal on that playing field.

“You heard ‘er, Tommy.” Joel tells him, “give our girl what she wants.”

Our girl.

It doesn’t take long when his tongue presses against your clit, circling maddeningly until you have no other choice but to grip onto the couch and moan, the tightening, agonizing feeling in your stomach bursting at the seams as you come against his tongue. Joel captures your mouth to swallow the moan, not trying to give Tommy the satisfaction just yet while his brother greedily licked away at your pussy, cleaning up the mess you’d made, a gentle smile on your face as you finally came back down, allowing Joel to lick greedily into your mouth before you chanced a glance at Tommy, his pupils blown out in pleasure.

“Think we should move this to the bedroom?” Joel asks preemptively, a soft laughing bubbling from your chest.

“Yeah—yes, please.” You agree, but your legs feel weak, unable to bear your weight.

“I got you, baby.” Tommy assures, helping you to your feet gently, a comforting hand on your waist as he led you toward what you could assume was Joel’s room–considering he had the bigger of the two, Joel following closely behind.

The deafening click on the door is both a promise and a warning.

This was a secret held within these walls and whatever took place could not be reversed.

You were willing to take that risk though, selfishly.

And you were sure the Miller brothers shared the same sentiment.

And for some reason, you didn’t think it was that important you come again. Not after the first, seeing as how they had proved their point in wanting you, nearly brought you to tears with your first orgasm and maybe—maybe you could just blow them both and it would be fine, even the playing fields and leave it at that.

But, no. That’s not what they wanted. Or planned for.

Joel eats your pussy for fun, he doesn’t even try to make you come. You manage to convince Tommy out of his jeans early, using the fist you have wrapped in his shirt as leverage as you hover on your hands and knees, gripping his thick cock in your free hand and giving it a few slow tugs, knowing that if he was this big, there was no telling what Joel had to offer.

He’s uncut and girthy, thick veins lining his cock as you lapped teasingly at the head, pulling the foreskin back as you took him into your mouth, a moan reverberating over his cock as Joel ate you out from behind, ass high in the air as he settled on his knees. It wasn’t an ideal position, but Joel wasn’t complaining and neither were you.

Joel had always stripped at some point, still clad in his boxers but devoid of everything else. He’s much wider than Tommy but not nearly as firm—where Tommy has a more chiseled chest and stomach, Joel carries a softness that still beckons with strength.

“Fuck, darlin’,” Tommy sighs, “got a goddamn mouth on you, you know that?”

To some extent, you did. He knew you liked to argue at every possible opportunity, throw back witty remarks that sometimes he didn’t even have a response to but this—this is more than he could imagine. Wet, hot heat surrounded his cock in a way that could have him coming within a few strokes, but he was determined.

You nod with your mouth latched around his cock, taking him to the base until he nudges that back of your throat, trying desperately to ignore how it makes your eyes water, hearing Tommy groan deeply with the feeling of you swallowing around him.

“I’m gonna cum,” Tommy warns, “—go on, baby, pull off if you wanna.”

You shake your head defiantly, feeling Joel chuckle against your cunt from behind you.

“She’s greedy, brother,” Joel comments slyly, “You should know that.”

Tommy comes with a low groan, fingers wrapping around the arm still gripping his shirt, thumb rubbing against the skin to soothe himself and keep him anchored here, feeling like he might teleport to another goddamn dimension with how eagerly you swallow down his cum.

You pull off with a soft pop and look at Tommy, grinning proudly. He can’t even hide his adoration, chuckling behind a toothy grin as you pull away from Joel, turning in Tommy’s lap and pressing your back against his chest.

“You think I’m greedy?” You ask Joel teasingly.

“Look at you,” Joel comments snidely, though there’s a playfulness to his tone, “couldn’t settle for one of us so you’re gettin’ both—that seems pretty damn greedy to me.”

You nod mawkishly to his words, watching as he grew closer, shifting on his knees as you leaned forward slightly, feeling the gentle press of Tommy’s palm against your back, his spent and softening dick, pressed against your bare ass. He knew it wouldn’t take long, just a few minutes and he’d be even harder than before, unable to resist you.

“And if I want more?” You ask curiously.

“More what, sweetheart?”

“Well, for starters—I want your cum, Joel.” You tell him honestly, “Can you give me that?”

“Dunno, you think you deserve that?”

Tommy’s watching the exchange with an amused grin, feeling it was a well-deserved punishment to Joel with how often you and him argue this way. Joel was finally getting a taste of the medicine he so often mocked Tommy for complaining about.

“Come here.” You beckon, grabbing lazily at his wrist and pulling him toward you.

He seems hesitant at first, but he leans over you, sandwiching you between him and Tommy as you press your lips in a featherlight touch against his own.

“Kiss me.” You demand.

“What?” He asks curiously, like his brother hadn’t just come in your mouth.

And that’s exactly why–it doesn’t make your skin crawl, in fact, it only turns you on more.

“Please, Joel,” You pout, “just a little peck and then I’ll let you fuck me while Tommy has to watch–that’s what you want right? Wanna pull some claim over me while your brother can’t do anything about it, am I wrong?”

Joel kisses you so intensely it forces you back against Tommy, a small mmph leaving your mouth as Joel quickly gained the upper hand and wraps his large, rough hands under your ass and scoots you further down the bed until the back of your thighs press against the top of his and you moan as he licks into your mouth, knowing that the lingering of Tommy’s headiness touches his tongue and you bite down harshly on his bottom lip as he pulls apart for a brief, lingering moment.

Here it comes—the questioning consent, the lingering wonders.

“I’m covered, Joel.” You assure him, “We don’t need them. I trust you both are clean.”

Assuming that Tommy was going to fuck you too—which, god, you fucking hoped.

That’s all Joel needs, nodding before he grabs ahold of his shaft, dragging the tip of his cock through you wetness, gathering it in a slow teasing trail before he presses inside slowly, watching the stretch of you around his cock. You can’t help but keep your eyes locked on the same point either, because what Joel lacked in slight girth he made up for in length, feeling the numb press of him inside of you before he was even fully sheathed.

“Goddamn, sweetheart,” He says, voice strained, “that’s a tight fuckin’ fit. Think you can handle it?”

You laugh brokenly, Tommy’s hands comforting over your shoulder before they trail to your breasts, teasingly rubbing a nipple between his fingers, watching it pebble underneath his touch.

“Do you want a pat on the back or something?” You retort, “Fuck me, Joel.”

“There she is,” Tommy comments in amusement, “I knew you were in there. Give it to ‘em, darlin.”

“Shut it, Tommy,” Joel snaps, “Know what, sweetheart, I got a challenge for you.”

Joel moves his hips slowly, pulling out slowly before pushing back in even more agonizingly slower. “No touchin’, how’s that sound? Think you can handle it.”

You shake your head. Honestly, Joel could respect it.

“Fine—Tommy, hold her hands.” Joel settles and part of you expects Tommy to argue.

He doesn’t. In fact, he looks just as greedy about the idea. And he knows if you were uncomfortable with it you would speak up, because secretly—it was exactly what you wanted. Render your power and your own autonomy for a brief moment and give yourself over to them equally. Tommy holds his hands out in wait, wiggling his fingers teasingly.

You hand them over with a soft sigh, feigning annoyance. He guides them to wrap around his waist behind you, arms stretched over your head as Joel has a solid grip on the underside of your thighs, hips still moving slowly throughout, so slow that you forget he’s actually seated inside you until he snaps his hips once, twice, his resistance snapping when he sees you settle.

Tommy settled on his own knees, though sat deeper into the bed, his hands a tight, mindful presence against your wrist as you squeeze and claw at his skin as Joel pistons his hips with a ferocity that seeks vengeance, or something there of.

“Squeeze my cock, sweetheart,” Joel goads, feeling you do just that as your eyes roll back, “yeah—don’t act like this wasn’t what you planned from the beginning.”

“Our girl’s good at that,” Tommy comments, staring down at you with a mischievous smirk, “playin’ us both—kinda like it though, I’ll admit.”

“Shut up,” You groan, “Both of you.”

You pointedly pinch at Tommy’s skin and he tilts his head in both amusement and confusion.

“I think she’s gettin’ a little upset,” Tommy acknowledges, “You don’t think it’s fair, darlin?”

You almost have the courage to reply when Joel’s thumb drags over your clit, rubbing in quick and determined circles to match the intensity of his thrusts, using his spread knees to keep your thighs wide and open for him, eyes locked on your cunt as you squeeze around him repeatedly, moaning wantonly into your bicep as you turn your head to the side.

But, Joel doesn’t appreciate that. He grabs your chin quickly, and clicks his tongue in disapproval, “Nuh uh, sweetheart. You keep those eyes on Tommy. Let him see how good I make you feel, alright?”

You pout slightly, biting harshly at your bottom lip as Joel shifts his hips slightly, but it feels earth-shattering, one hand planted into the mattress to allow for him to reach something deeper inside of you, if that was possible.

“I’m right—right,” You sigh, eyes tearing up as you looked at Tommy, clawing gently at his sides, “fuck–I’m right there, Tommy.”

Despite Joel being inside you, his name slips out. It shouldn’t turn him on as much as it does. And he wants to give you relief but really, he’s just eager to be inside of you too. He knows the quicker Joel finishes up that he can have you, so he encourages his brother. And Joel is too desperate for his own release to argue.

“Ask him, sweetheart.” Joel notices your eagerness for approval from Tommy and plays into it, feeling the familiar feeling building in his gut as he grits his teeth.

You nod furiously in understanding, eyes trained on Tommy. “I need to—can I come, please?”

“Go on, baby.” He agrees softly, rubbing a gentle hand over your chest as he feels your body shake with your orgasm as Joel swiped a thumb over your clit before everything goes white, gasping sharply at the intensity, but you don’t have much time to recover before Joel is pulling out and allowing Tommy to assist as you sit up slightly and feel the press of Joel’s cock against your lip, the blurriness in your eyes quickly clearing as he comes in long, forceful spurts over your tongue.

You lap greedily, swallowing visibly as Joel squeezes at his cock and forces out the last few bits of cum he had to offer, rubbing the tip against your tongue as you giggled softly, kissing his cock head gently.

There’s a brief second where you think they might allow you a break, a moment to collect yourself, but Joel is staring at you with his head cocked to the side, palming his softening dick as he glances over you at his brother.

“I dunno if she’s up for it,” Joel offers, “I think that might’ve taken it out of her.”

A shame, really. But, your eyebrows furrow in defiance as you quickly shove Joel, gently and not at all enough to really move him more than a few millimeters. It causes Tommy to chuckle.

“He’s just playin’ around, baby.” Tommy comforts, “You think you can handle it?”

You nod eagerly, turning on your knees as you rise to meet him with an eager kiss, something you haven’t had the chance to do all night. Tommy kisses with more eagerness, more passion—it’s less experience than what you feel with Joel. Tommy has so much he wants to match with you; the curiosity and unity in the way you touch him. You kiss like new lovers and it feels your body with warmth, both of you laughing softly against each other’s lips.

“I can handle it.”

Tommy eyes you seriously, following your playful gaze.

“Get to the edge of the bed.”

And—oh, that’s…different. Like a switch and you can barely recognize him.

Joel and Tommy switch with a trained ease as Tommy guides you to the end of the bed, the top of the mattress pressing at your waistline and giving you easy leverage to lean against and Joel is right there, in perfect view and waiting for you. He seems softer now too, more relaxed.

You think Tommy might give you a moment but he’s already hard again and eager, sliding inside of you in one go—hard and sharp as your hands press into the mattress between Joel’s thighs, gripping the sheets tightly.

Tommy grips tightly at the back of your neck and pulls you upwards, pressing his face into the side of yours and speaking tensely against your skin, “Why don’t you be a good girl and give my brother a taste of what your mouth can do, huh, baby?”

You nod obediently, shivering at the way Tommy mouths at your skin greedily before forcing you back down against Joel, his hands spread out beside him, cock hard against and resting against his belly.

He’s almost positive he won’t be able to come again–not this soon, but he isn’t going to deny himself the taste of your mouth, watching as you move with eagerness to please him and Tommy. The sharp snap of Tommy’s hips makes it a little difficult and Joel wants to scold his brother’s eagerness and lack of restraint, but he knows—Joel knows how good you feel and he can’t even blame him.

He offers a guiding hand as you swallow him down, swirling your tongue around the tip a few times, repeating the process with his hand resting gently against the side of your face, thumb rubbing tenderly at the joint in your jaw, feeling him stretch you and heightening the growing ache that will linger for a while.

“Fuck, our girl’s got such a sweet pussy, don’t she?” Joel comments snarkily, eyebrows furrowing when you take him a little too deep, “Can’t get enough of it—just like this goddamn mouth.”

You moan pathetically and Joel can’t handle it, gripping your face between his palms as he presses his lips to yours forcefully, swallowing the whine that leaves your mouth as you feel Tommy’s hands roam and tightening against your body, soft expletives leaving his mouth as he fucks into you and hand gradually arriving at your shoulder and tightening around the skin, pulling him back against your harshly.

Joel rubs his thumbs against your cheeks, eyes locked on yours, “Yeah—think you can come again, sweetheart?” A third? Not a fuckin’ chance. You shake your head weakly, ‘You can, I know you can,” And there’s Joel’s soothing voice, the one you hear so often at work, “You keep your eyes on me, alright? Nowhere else.”

“Listen to ‘em, baby.” Tommy interjects after a long bout of silence, too lost in his own head as he relishes in the squeeze of you around his cock, committing it to memory. “Gonna make sure you feel us tomorrow while you’re at work.”

Joel chuckles at that, the slow trail of Tommy’s hand as it finds your clit and begins slow circles, easing into it, “Yeah, how ‘bout that,” Joel comments teasingly, “maybe we just can’t resist ourselves and we can take turns fuckin’ you in the back office. But, you’d like that wouldn’t you?”

You moan sheepishly, eyes falling shut up.

Joel tsks, “Eyes on me means you keep ‘em open too, baby. Answer me.”

“Yes—yes, fuck—I would. I would.” You rush out, feeling Tommy’s pace quicken and the ache in your stomach builds and builds, tears building in your eyes as you keep them locked on Joel.

Despite his demands his face remains gentle and you find yourself sobbing softly into his hands as Tommy snaps his hips one last time, coming inside of you with a deep, guttural groan as he tips you over the edge too. It’s too much, overly-sensitive and your muscles burning with more ache than when you started you let out another sob, falling against Joel.

“Go on, get somethin’ to clean up,” He tells Tommy over your shoulder, “I got her.”

You fall slack against him, feeling him adjust himself on the bed until you can sit properly, leaning you against his body as he hands run along your back, soft sobs wracking your body.

“Hey, you still with me?” Joel asks hesitantly. “Was it too much?”

You feel yourself start to calm under his touch, quickly shaking your head.

“Just…overwhelmed.” You admit, “Too much.”

“Too much?” Joel echoes with an endearing chuckle.

“Yes,” You admit amusingly, “I guess I wasn’t expecting…that.”

“That’s fair,” Joel offers, gripping your hand in his own and intertwining your fingers, “this doesn’t—we don’t usually do this. We haven’t in a long time. I don’t want you to think this is something you're bound to now.”

“Like he could fire you if he wanted to,” Tommy interjects with a sly grin, somehow managing to redress amidst your talk with Joel, just a pair of dark colored briefs but it allows what just happened to settle in more deeply, “come here, darlin.”

Joel switches off, pulling his own underwear on somewhere near the other side of the bed. And you welcome the warmth of the washcloth as Tommy drags it between your legs, hissing only slightly, “I know, you’re pretty sensitive—m’sorry.” Tommy mumbles, gingerly cleaning you up, dragging the wet wash cloth along your thighs as well, tender from his and Joel’s teasing bites at your flesh. “Better?”

“Thank you.” You say softly, his free hand gripping your waist tenderly.

Joel offers up your clothes silently, eyeing his brother wearily as he bounds around the room, gathering his own clothes and re-dressing, though Joel stays in his nearly bare state of undress, briefs allowing him some modesty.

“I’m gonna check the bar,” Tommy offers, “should only take an hour or so.”

Joel nods, “Alright, just…keep me updated, I guess.”

He isn’t ushering you out either, his lingering presence by your side as you pull your underwear up your thighs, a gentle touch of reassurances as you wobble on unsteady legs. Tommy chuckles lightly at the sight, winking when he catches your disgruntled gaze, nose scrunched up in annoyance.

“No fun without me.” Tommy jokes.

“Tommy—” Joel says steely as his brother throws his head back over his shoulder, slipping on his boots, “get the fuck out of my room.”

Tommy offers a mock salute and does just that, leaving you alone with Joel for the first time that night.

“I’m guessing the same rules apply to me?” You ask, shoving your arms through the holes in your shirt, yanking it over your head and you catch Joel shaking his head, pulling you to your feet with a hand when you finally look at him.

“I got you all to myself now,” Joel says quietly, “think I deserve to be a little selfish.”

You wince at the thought of any more sex tonight, but are thankful his hands down stray from your side when they settle there.

“Joel, I can’t—”

“Sleep here tonight,” He offers, “I’ll cook breakfast in the morning."

“I think you just want to keep to yourself all night so Tommy can’t have me, don’t you?”

Joel grins, leaning in for a gentle peck of your lips, “You’re damn right, sweetheart.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #tommy miller x reader #tommy miller x you #tommy miller smut #joel x tommy x reader #joel miller fanfic #tommy miller fanfic #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #my writing

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