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psychedelic-ink · 5 months

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ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐃

ㅤㅤwoodshop teacher!joel miller x f!reader

genre: smut, minors dni

word count: 2k

summary: there are many advantages to enrolling in a woodshop class: drawing you away from not-so-happy thoughts, relearning something that you enjoyed doing when you were a kid, and, well, the sight of watching mr. miller do something he’s undeniably good at.

warnings: semi-public fingering, dirty talk, reader has a small exhibitionism kink, competency kink

a/n: special thanks to the anon who requested this! I enjoyed writing it thoroughly ❤️‍🔥

There are many advantages to enrolling in a woodshop class: drawing you away from not-so-happy thoughts, relearning something that you enjoyed doing when you were a kid, and, well, the sight of watching Mr. Miller do something he’s undeniably good at.

The sleeves of his flannel were rolled neatly up to the elbow, exposing his forearms, strong and dusted lightly with sawdust from earlier. You watch intently as Mr. Miller takes the carving tool in his hands, demonstrating how to use it to the class. You’re out of breath. Completely entranced by the way his muscles flex and ripple in his forearms - beautifully defined beneath the rolled-up sleeves of his flannel shirt. Unlike the other students who take in the information in a more appropriate way, all you can focus on is the gathering wetness between your legs.

So much so that you don’t even realize that Mr Miller had instructed the class to start carving. You’re dumbfounded when you suddenly find the man staring right in front of your working bench, staring down at you with an amused gaze.

“Sometin’ wrong with your tools?”

Heat rushes to your cheeks. God. You’re an idiot. You open and close your mouth, he’s so close—close enough that you can breathe in his scent which you identify as pine.

“No—No. Just. . .”

He leans over the bench, his hands landing on the edge, fingers spreading over the smooth surface. Your eyes drop almost by instinct. You see the faint scars littered across his skin.

“Distracted?” he finishes your sentence for you. You meet his gaze, heart beating in your throat, you expect to see an expression showing you that you’ve been caught doing something bad but much to your surprise, you see the lingering traces of worry. “We should talk ‘bout it after class. Sound good?”

Does he really not see the state you’re in? That you’re practically soaked to your core—ready to say yes to anything that comes out of his plush lips. Is he that oblivious to his charm?

“Yeah,” you mutter, grabbing one of the carving tools sprawled out. You wrap your fingers around the material, squeezing it, your thumb faintly caresses the contour. His eyes flicker at the subtle movement. “Sounds good.”

“You gonna tell me what’s going on or are we goin’ to continue to have a stare-down until my next class?”

He’s smiling, however, it does little to calm your raging nerves. It’s been almost ten minutes since class had ended. A class that truly tested the limits of your patience. You barely managed to carve a line, your eyes were fixed on him, his hands, his arms. . . Your mind showed you one image after another, forcing you to think of the answer to questions like: how big is his cock? How fast could he make you come with just his fingers?

Fuck, the thought alone is enough to make you weak in the knees.

“Sorry,” you blurt out, coming closer to the desk. “Today will be the last time, promise.”

He hums as he leans back into the chair, his legs parting. You feel another fresh wave of arousal coursing through you. “Do you know how long you’ve been taking my workshop?”

“Uh. . . three weeks?”

“Good,” he nods. “And can you tell me how many times I caught you just starin’ instead of doin’?”

“A. . . reasonable amount?”

He cocks an eyebrow, “Not a reasonable amount.” When you remain silent, simmering in your own embarrassment, he continues. “It looks like I ain’t the right teacher for you. And I care whether people learn a thing or two in my class so I wrote you down a number.”

He rolls back a bit, opening the drawer, he picks up a card. You’re completely in shock as he stands, handing you the aforementioned card. When you look at it you see the name Tommy Miller written on it along with a phone number.

“That’s my brother,” he explains. “He has a different approach than I do. Younger too, which may benefit you.”

“I. . . what? Are—Are you kicking me out of your class?”

You can’t help the quiver that accompanies your question. You’re an idiot. A huge idiot. You made him think that he’s no good in teaching which couldn’t be further from the truth. Still in shock, you stare down at the card and back up to him. He seems just as surprised as you are.

“No, no, I ain’t kickin’ you out. I just. . . I thought this would help. I didn’t mean to. . .”

“It’s your hands—” you finally snap, taking him by surprise. Your brain is screaming at you to shut up but you can’t. Not knowing what else to do, you cover your face with both hands, breathing heavily into your palms. Your wood carving career is over. “You just—shit—you just look so good doing what you do and it’s been so long since—well, it’s just really distracting,” you feel the card with his brother’s number slip through your fingers, he’s not saying anything. Fuck. “That’s why I was. . . distracted. It has nothing to do with you or your teaching style. You’re great.”

You should let yourself out now. You really should.

“You think I look good?” The quip catches you off guard and you dare to lower your hands. He’s smiling again, beaming actually, he looks thoroughly pleased with himself. You blink.

“You really didn’t know?”

“Nope,” he looks down sheepishly. “I ain’t good at readin’ signs and it’s been long for me too.”

He takes a step closer, pushing you back until the edge of the desk is biting into your flesh. Your breath stutters. He cages you in, muscular arms on both sides of your hips. He tilts his head and kisses your cheek. You close your eyes at the brush of his lips. His hands toy with the zipper of your jeans. “Tell me what you were thinkin’ durin’ class and maybe I’ll give you a gold star.”

“Oh fuck,” you breathe out, rolling your hips forward. He grins against your skin. “I. . .I thought about your hands and how they would feel like. I also thought about—”

You cut yourself off. He prompts you to continue by lowering the zipper. “You also thought about what?” he murmurs. “Don’t be a bad girl now. I know you wanna be good for me.”

You do. You really fucking do.

“I thought about how big your cock might be,” you gasp. “I thought about how good it would feel to have you inside me.”

Mr Miller takes your hand and brings it to the rather impressive bulge between his legs. Your body warms as you cup him gingerly. Despite the soft touch, his eyes still roll back. “Why don’t you tell me how big I am?” he murmurs, thrusting into your palm. Fuck, he feels huge underneath the denim.

“Really big,” you answer, stroking him. “You’re huge Mr Miller—”

“Joel,” he groans. “Call me Joel.”

“Joel,�� you moan. “Joel. Are you going to fuck me with this big cock of yours?”

He chuckles, “Sadly no. We can’t now but. . .” You shudder at the feeling of his teeth nipping at your chin. He pushes back your hand and swiftly tugs down your pants. “I’ll give you my fingers, sweetheart. Want to feel you creamin’ around them.”

You tremble at his touch. Two thick fingers moving between your dripping lips, spreading them, teasing your entrance. Your breath hitches as he swirls the pads of his fingers around your clit. You melt against him, forehead falling to the front of his shoulder as he circles, circles and circles them. Your slick coats his fingers, trickles down his wrist. Those skillful hands now a mess.

“You weren’t kiddin’,” he says into your hair. “You’re fuckin’ soaked for me.”

“For you,” you agree, grinding your hips. “Give them to me. Please please please—”

“Shhhhhh keep quiet or I’m gonna have to spank ya—” A wanton moan rips from your throat and you pulse, a gush of liquid drenching you both. The sounds that come out of you are obscene. “You like that huh?”

You nod desperately. His chest trembles as he lets out a low chuckle. “So honest. ‘Guess you deserve a reward.”

His fingers slide into you with ease, two of them sliding in and out, the heel of his palm pressing into your clit every time he plunges them deep inside. “Fuck,” he hisses through clenched teeth, scissoring his fingers. “How are you this worked up? How the fuck are you so wet? Shit sweetheart—”

You know. You know how wet you are. He thrusts his fingers knuckle deep, curling them, liquid heat drips down your spine, every muscle tensing with the promise of release. The sounds of him fucking you fills the workshop. The door is unlocked, you know this, there was no reason for either of you to think of locking it before. The thought of people seeing, someone watching—

Your head falls back as a whimper slips from your lips, his eyes find your own, dark with arousal. His thumb rubs at your clit. “Tell me,” he orders.

“You have class soon,” you oblige, the thought making you clench. His brows furrow.

“Yeah?”

“People might see,” you add, just a hint of a teasing lilt in your voice. Your tone goes completely over Joel’s head, the tease prompting his fingers to still. Your groan in frustration, hips desperately jerking for the friction to continue.

“You wanna stop?”

“No, Joel. I. . .” Oh god, you can’t word it out. It’s making you flustered. “It’s kinda hot. . . that people might see.”

“Oh,” he blinks then a second later his lips curl into a mischievous smile. “Oh.”

And when he understands where you’re coming from—all hell breaks loose.

Joel pushes you up the desk, nestling himself between your legs, your muscles left trembling at the stretch. He slips in another finger, fucking you thoroughly with three of them. Your jaw goes slack, your body burning from the inside out. You try to bite back the sounds but it’s hard when you’re left so exposed. It feels good—it feel amazing. You’re stammering over your words, somewhere between wanting to beg him and wanting to tell him how mind-numbingly beautiful this feels. His fingers stroke your deepest parts, applying pressure on just the right spot.

“If you can’t handle this there’s no way you can take my cock, honey.” Your breasts feel heavy and full, nipple going hard at the gravel in his voice. You want to touch him so bad, have his cock in your mouth, worship him with your entire body. “Come on, sweetheart, let me feel how good your pussy feels when you come. Fuckin’ make a mess of the desk. I’ll just fuckin’ make a new one and you can soak that one too—”

You’re chanting his name with hushed whispers, over and over. A familiar heat and tingle settles in your stomach, your cunt fluttering around his fingers, it doesn’t take you long after that. He keeps moaning about how good you’re feeling, about how he’ll be thinking about your perfect wet pussy when the next class starts. It’s all too much. Unbearable.

“Look at me,” he growls and you barely hear him. He slips his fingers into the knots of your hair and yanks your head back. Your eyelids flutter as you stare directly at him. He bares his teeth. “Fuckin’ come for me.”

Your jaw drops, all care about keeping silent floating from your head as the most guttural moan rips from your throat. It’s so intense that you can physically feel yourself creaming around him, the slick at base of his finger a shade darker. “Atta girl,” he keeps saying into your mouth, over and over. You’re still coming, your insides left throbbing and raw.

The two of you stay like that for a while. His fingers still knuckle deep, panting heavily, both your bodies glistening with sweat. His forehead falls against yours and you sigh happily, a smile touching your lips.

You expect him to kiss you but he doesn’t, it almost feels like he’s holding himself back. Instead, he brushes your lips together, expression almost painful.

“You got any plans for tonight?”

You shake your head.

“Can I take you to dinner?”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic #the last of us fanfic #tlou fanfic #joel miller au #requests

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deeversuswords · 26 days

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‧˚₊ Shotgun in his car

pairing: bakugou katsuki/f!reader summary: random thoughts about Katsuki and driving word count: ~800 words contains: slight nsfw, mostly fluff, aged-up • ao3 link a/n: I blame this song for putting the thought in my already "crying over bakugou katsuki on a daily basis" brain. before I kick myself out, as a bonus "thought": rolled-up sleeves. enjoy 🧡

Bakugou Katsuki, your boyfriend who pulls up in front of U.A after getting his driver’s license, where you’re supposed to meet up with him, and whistles at you, the sharp tune a shared secret. His proud grin widens when your head jerks up and all you manage is half a curse in his direction as you startle. He knows the words died on your tongue at the sight of him in the driver seat of a car you don’t recognize. Of course not, it was his parents’ gift for his eighteenth birthday, one he hid from you for this very moment. He melts inside when you climb in, throw your arms around his neck, and smother his face with kisses as you squeal out your congratulations. Putting up with all the dumb instructions from his driving instructor was worth it if this was his reward.

Bakugou Katsuki whose strides hold more arrogance when he returns to the dorms and waves his driver's license to everyone. He was the first to turn eighteen, and now, he’s the first with a driver's license. His chuckles resonate just right when your friends groan exasperated and complain how they have to wait, but congratulate him nonetheless and wiggle their eyebrows because Katsuki with a license means a free drive. Wrong.

Bakugou Katsuki plays taxi driver for no one except you. You—the reason why those free drives he vehemently denies become a thing. When you ask him, pretty eyes peering into his, Katsuki thinks “Hell no”, but his mouth says, “Whatever. Fine.” And there are rules. No eating or drinking. Wear a seatbelt. Don’t be obnoxiously noisy. And the strictest of them all: no one, not even his parents, is allowed to sit in the passenger seat. Hell breaks loose on anyone who tries. “That’s my girl’s seat. Get in the back”—not a statement, but an order. It’s that same seat that becomes the first thing he modifies in his car with his first paycheck. Every last yen goes into the best material, best cushion, best everything because your comfort is his. And it’s so fucking worth it when you cuddle up in your new seat with a big smile on your face and love is all he feels when you say, “God, Kat. You’re spoiling me too much” and pull him by his collar into a mind-numbing kiss.

Bakugou Katsuki and driving with one hand, a habit born out of a passing comment you made about how hot he looked when he did that. His brain rewired on your words, spoken in a nearly whiny tone. But with the rewiring came a whole lot of other things. Like his free hand resting on your thigh. Sometimes his fingers trace random patterns and innocently knead and pinch. Other times, they glide higher and tease, twitch with need when your legs instinctively spread for more of what only he can give you. It is for that reason that Katsuki memorized where in the city the secluded places were. Once his name passes your lips on a breathy moan, he knows no driving, only how to pull over and make you come all over his fingers.

Bakugou Katsuki who finds an outlet in driving late at night when stress gets to him and sleep is being a bitch. Becomes his routine, and slowly yours too. “You’re more important than my sleep, Kat. I’m right there with you,” you told him one night when he got angry at himself for daring to disturb your sleep for the third time that week. He kissed you right after, hungrier than ever, insatiable for your love and everything you meant to his world. Katsuki didn’t care that you wore only a T-shirt—one of his old ones—as he dragged you out of your shared apartment and into his car after allowing you a minute to put shoes on. That drive was a learning experience so now, among the many things crowding his calendar, are the nights promising a clear sky. Because he needs a repeat of his car parked on some random grassy field on the outskirts of the city. To watch you beam at the starry sky above and drown in your joy as you tug on the sleeve of his T-shirt, pointing at the constellations and naming what he already knows because Katsuki always listens when it’s you. Eventually, he silences you with a kiss, his love burning too bright and too hot; it overwhelms him. His head spins and spins. It’s a blur that temporarily clears when you finally ease down on him in the backseat of his car, your gaze locked with his lovesick one, hands grabbing everywhere they can. It’s the only time when Katsuki goes against your wishes of fucking you hard. Not a romantic in the literal sense of the word, but the way everything gravitates together in the moment changes his usual pace into something softer. He makes love to you. Heart wide open, soul bare.

#no use of y/n #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #reader insert #female reader #bakugou smut #bnha smut #bnha fic #when the title hits you after you post

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hairyjocktf · 27 days

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Building a New Life

Justin was the star wrestler at his high school. He had won regional titles and the adoration of all the local families for years, and was ready to head to college to continue his streak. Senior year he was at his peak, winning matches left and right. All he had to do was wait for those recruitment offers to roll in. He waited and waited, still kicking ass in his wrestling, but while everyone around him was committing and getting accepted, there were no letters to him. To his dismay, one never came. His plans for the future were shattered, what was he supposed to do now? The wrestling scholarship was his only shot for college.

With the year ending and not many options, Justin started looking for entry level jobs that would take him. He lived in a fairly rural area so most of what he found was either farm work or construction, and the latter paid better. He called one of them up and they told him to swing by the site a few days later. He drove out to the construction site later that week and walked into the mobile office they had there. The manager came out to greet him. He was a rugged man in his late 40’s, with a stocky build and thick stubble. He’d clearly been in the business for years and it showed through his worn hands and gruff voice from yelling orders at his lackeys. The man looked Justin up and down.

“A little scrawny but I can work with it,” he said after a few seconds.

“I was a top wrestler in the region!” Justin protested.

“Doesn’t matter in this industry,” the man said flatly. “Can you handle heavy loads and equipment? Can you deal with being outside most of the day in rough weather?”

Justin was caught off guard, usually people were much nicer to him. “Of course I can! I can handle whatever you throw at me,” he assured.

“Well alright, If you think you can handle it let’s see how you do here,” the manager said, handing a pile of clothes to Justin. “Here’s your safety and HiVis gear, make sure it fits and then we’ll get you set up outside.”

Justin took his uniform to the bathroom to try it on real quick. It included a hard hat that was adjustable, which he fit to his head, a bright orange and yellow HiVis vest, and a couple other things. He put it all on and stepped back into the office.

“Alright follow me, Justin was it?” the manager gestured towards the door.

“Yes sir,” Justin responded uncharacteristically.

“Name’s Blaine, the manager revealed, “Around here we usually work on residential projects, we’re currently assisting on a development outside of town.” He led them away from the office around the immediate site, which currently seemed to be mostly used as storage for equipment and materials. “Since you’ve got no experience you’ll start by shadowing some of our guys for a few weeks and handling more basic tasks til you’re ready for more,” he continued. “You can head back to the office and they'll take care of the nitty gritty for ya. I’m expecting great things from you, wrestler,” Blaine laughed as he left Justin and headed out towards the development. Justin heard his gruff voice booming in the distance as he barked orders to the workers.

Justin was unsure about all of this, but he didn’t really have a better option at the moment. He felt out of place in his new safety gear, and he was younger than nearly everyone he saw working. He took care of the paperwork and headed home for the day; they'd hired him on the spot to start the next morning. With considerable unease, he went to bed, closing one chapter of his life for the next.

As the weeks went by Justin began acclimating to this new job fairly well. He got to know the guys he worked with, learned how to use the equipment, and began to feel comfortable on the site. He even felt like he had put on some mass to better handle all the physical work he was doing. His rock solid abs were a little less visible than they had been but for some reason that didn’t bother him. He was already starting to forget the sting of not being recruited for wrestling. Every day he came into work those past dreams seemed to fade a little more, replaced by his new life. His coworkers had made fun of him for having such a baby face at the beginning, but now he was starting to sport a little bit of stubble. Justin was slowly starting to blend in more with his new crowd.

The months continued to pass, with Justin becoming more and more entrenched in his new construction life. It was getting colder outside, and his body began to adjust without him even noticing. His stubble grew out into a real beard, short and dense. He began packing on more body fat as he spent less and less time at the gym and more and more working and drinking with his new bros. His voice began to sound a little deeper and rougher, matching those around him. The hard hat really suited him now with his more rugged looks. He had never been a good student in school but he seemed to really be taking to this new job, completely forgetting about his old goals. The occassional approving nod from Blaine was driving him forward. He was thriving in this new position, but the job wasn’t done with him yet.

Unbeknownst to Justin, under his thick winter clothes things were changing. His previously toned body, while still fairly muscular, was steadily becoming thicker with fat. Not only that, but he’d always been near perfectly smooth and that too was slowly changing. It had started with his chest, where on the previously bare skin thin wispy hairs had started to poke out. That didn’t last long though, as they were quickly overrun with thicker, darker hairs that began sprouting in between his pecs. They grew curly as they spread out, covering his entire chest in hair, spreading up across his collarbone and down across his slowly growing stomach. The new hairy coat was just another part of his insulation against the harsh winter weather. But the hairs didn’t stop there either. His pits erupted with thick wiry hairs, coating his underarms in curly hairs that trapped both heat and sweat. The hairs pushed out, tangling together as they formed a thick tuft of hair under each arm, even spreading out to connect with the rug on his chest. After each day of hard work he’d come home stinking like the other men he worked with, and over time he started to enjoy the musk he produced.

Of course he wasn’t done filling out his uniform quite yet. His formerly modest bush began growing with no end in sight, engulfing his groin in thick, wiry brown hairs that radiated out from his lengthening cock. Sometimes while on the site Justin would instinctively reach down in his pants to itch the growing bush, the feeling and texture of it driving him wild. With pubes erupting day and night his musk only grew stronger, as Justin began to truly have a manly aura around him that he’d never had before. It seemed to help him bond with the other guys more, as they welcomed him into their groups and invited him out more and more frequently. Underneath his work pants his legs bulked up considerably from carrying all sorts of materials around, followed closely by the same dark fur. It raced down his legs and coated them with curly hairs that rubbed against the inside of his increasingly tight jeans as he walked around, an almost arousing feeling. Within the first year of working Justin had gone up four sizes in his work boots, as his feet grew and widened to match the rest of him. The massive steel-toed boots hid how hairy his feet had gotten, with dark hairs covering the tops and toes.

The next year was largely the same. Justin continued slowly changing to better fit his new job. He was really beginning to excel at it, and he’d attained a close friendship with many of the men he worked with. It almost seemed as if he’d aged ten years over the last one, he certainly looked it at this point. His fur coat only thickened, growing even denser across his chest and stomach to the point you could barely see the skin beneath the hairs. Hair had also spread up and onto his shoulders before enveloping his massive back. The hairs gushed out across his shoulder blades before shooting down his spine and spreading out wide. The heavy coating slowly grew thicker and spread out further as time went on, reaching down to his ass. It too became covered with thick, dark hairs as it inflated to a truly massive size. During the warmer months sometimes he just wore his vest and hard hat, his incredibly thick hair covering the rest of him and sticking through his vest.

Justin earned the nickname ‘Grizzly’ from his coworkers after they saw how hairy he’d gotten, and his body had put on the size to match. Gone was the small but toned body of a wrestler, replaced by a thick, hairy, and sturdy body of a weathered construction worker. He oozed masculinity from not only his stained and dirty work clothes, but from the thick chest hair that he left his shirt open to show off. His entire body was now coated with a dense coat of hair and he liked to make that known, as long as he wasn’t caught against safety regulations at least. He never questioned why he’d changed so much in such a short span, it never even occurred to him, and honestly he liked his new life. He was just one of the guys working on the site now. The hair felt as natural to him as anything else, and the other guys seemed to like it even if they made fun of him once in a while. Occasionally when they went out drinking some of the guys would have too many beers and start rubbing their hands through his thick fur, but he didn’t mind at all. It felt good to be masculine, and to be appreciated for it by other guys. Months continued to pass though no one could really remember how long Justin had been working there at this point, but they were all glad he was there. He was the best construction worker on their team.

#male tf #hairy tf #bear tf #hairy #hairy chest #hairy pits #beard #hairy back #hair growth #my writing

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 6 months

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I know you probably JUST posted the FNAF Movie request where the reader possesses Sparky, but after reading it this idea popped into my head and I need to get it out there.

Could we have a sort of continuation of the 'Sparky reader' fic that takes place towards the finale of the movie? The idea I had is that after Abby helps the animatronics remember that it was William Afton who killed them, the reader actually joins up with the others in confronting him. Additionally, William is shocked because he wasn't expecting the reader to have also possessed an animatronic, let alone that they would have command over the others (he probably thought he was the only one with that kind of power).

👀

The first Sparky!Reader part

........

"Look at you...look at the nasty things that you have become! Look at how small you are! How worthless you are!! You are wretched, rotten little beasts! I MADE YOU!!!"

Even as William shouted angrily at the animatronics, pounding a gloved fist against his chest, he realized how quickly he was losing his ability to keep them in line.

Thanks to that brat showing them the truth in a stupid drawing--which proved that he, the yellow bunny they once trusted, was the cause of all their pain--they didn't obey him anymore.

Now he couldn't control them like he used to.

No longer were they blindly singing and dancing to his tune.

Because they finally remembered what really happened that day.

He then heard another pair of heavy footsteps, and from the darkness emerged a character he had almost entirely forgotten about:

Sparky.

But how was he moving? And why?

William swore that mutt was sitting in the backstage area, deactivated and unable to walk freely.

It was impossible.

Unless....

"Of course..I figured you would have woken up eventually, too." He chuckled weakly, taunting you all. "So what's your plan now? To kill me? Shove me into a suit like you did to those poor people?! Well you can't...because I know how you all think!! I'm smarter than you!!"

"No. You are a fool, Afton. It isn't us who will kill you."

His laughter ceased upon hearing your disembodied voice speaking to him, and he froze for a moment, bewildered by what you had said.

It was extremely unnerving to learn that your ghost could even talk to him at all, considering the other children have been silent.

What made you so special?

Unfortunately for him, he realized far too late what you meant by those words...as he noticed you gesturing to Chica, who sent her Cupcake after him.

It lunged with a growl, biting into the torso of his suit and not letting go.

He grabbed onto it, struggling to tear the feral little bastard off of him, not knowing that would be the last mistake he ever made.

When he finally managed to toss the Cupcake away from him, it took a chunk of the suit's fabric with it, exposing part of the springlock endoskeleton underneath.

And without any material for the mechanisms to stay compressed against...

They snapped, one bar stabbing into his side and sinking deep into his flesh, blood leaking through his shirt almost immediately.

With a gasp of pain, William collapsed to his knees as the springlocks continued to puncture him one by one--with you and the other animatronics simply staring him down, watching him endure the same torment he brought upon each of you.

None of your suits were made from springlocks, of course...but now he, too, will know what it's like to be encased inside a tomb of fabric and metal forever.

He scrambled for the Springbonnie head that laid beside him, only to see your brown paws snatch it off the ground.

You kept his above his head, just barely within his reach.

All he did was stare into your glowing red eyes, shocked at the commanding presence you held over his creations. He had no idea how you got them to follow your lead so easily.

Yet despite knowing that he lost, he refused to lie down and show any sort of fear.

Instead a grin appeared on his sweaty face, each exhaled breath growing more strained than the last.

And before you shoved the Springbonnie head onto him, forever sealing him inside his tomb, he made one final haunting declaration:

"I always come back."

#clanask #fnaf x reader #five nights at freddy's x reader #fnaf movie x reader #fnaf movie spoilers #animatronic reader #freddy fazbear #bonnie the bunny #chica the chicken #foxy the pirate #springbonnie #william afton

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forever-rogue · 1 year

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Joel teaching reader how to swim and hella sexual tension I would DIE

I am a sucker for the thought of Joel teaching reader how to do anything

AN | Shut up though, I loved writing this! 🥰

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 2.3k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel had taught you a lot of things since you'd met him almost two years ago.

He'd taught you how to shoot properly, despite the fact that you nearly blew his head off. He had the patience of a saint, but claimed he had the heart of a sinner. Either way - he was the one that taught you.

He'd taught you how to drive, despite the fact that there was no real reason for you to know. Sure, you had been plenty old enough drive before the end of the world but had never wanted to. These days it just seemed like a novelty. Even though you had managed to back into a tree - a feat he still wasn't sure how you managed - he still was patient and gentle with you.

The man had taught you a lot of useful things and skills, and you were always an eager learner. If anything, you enjoyed being in his company.

In turn you'd shown him some of your own skills and tricks. You were sure they paled in comparison but you couldn't deny the fact that it was hilarious to watch him try and bake. He might have been a decent cook but a baker, he was not. And yet you still ate his hard, flavorless cookies with a big smile on your face.

You loved getting to show him how to crochet, despite how frustrated he grew at the delicate materials in his hands. You set him right over and over again but never lost your patience even when he was ready to give up. He'd ended up making you an off kilter scarf; you adored it.

It was a trade off between the two of you; give and take, take and give. Sometimes it was the little things, like him making sure you'd remembered to eat or bringing you a coffee or you making sure he'd rested or didn't forget any of his tools.

You didn't really know where that left the two of you, in this sort of weird limbo where you were neither just friends but also not lovers. It was…odd. Sometimes you were ready to step across the line, to step from the garden into the jungle and finally just kiss him but you never quite worked up the needed bravado. Joel experienced significant moments of weakness, ones where he desired to pull you into his arms and kiss you dizzy, but he never let him spiral. Instead he kept his distance, yearning and yearning and yearning.

But now? Now he was convinced you were trying to kill him.

And it had all started one lazy evening when he couldn't keep his mouth shut. Idiot, he cursed himself.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"What do you mean you don't know how to swim?" Joel almost choked on his beer as you offered him a sheepish little smile, "that's - its - I…that's a basic life skill!"

"I dunno," you felt your face warming and warming under his intense scrutiny, sure you would explode from the look in his eyes, "I just never learned and never really a need to."

"What if some sort of emergency happened and you needed to swim, huh?" He leaned back in his chair and regarded you with curiosity, a smile dancing across his features, "you just gonna drown?"

"No," you waved him off, "I always thought that I'd be able to just…figure out."

"Right," he was holding back his laughter, you could tell, "of course."

"Joel Miller!" You huffed at him, "do not laugh at me!"

"I'm not!"

"You are too," you looked at him with a pout and he leaned forward to brush a few stray hairs out of your face. The simple shiver felt electric, "don't be mean…please."

"I'm not, sweetheart," he promised, "but I am going to teach you how to swim."

"What?!"

"Yes," he nodded cooly, "and you don't get a choice so don't bother arguing. You need to know how…and even if you never swim again, at least you'll know how to."

"Fine," you pretended to glare at him, your expression falling so far away from that, "fine."

"Fine," he nodded in agreement, "this weekend at the lake."

He had no idea he'd just signed his death warrant.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was a warm and sunny afternoon when you made your way over to the lake. You had your bathing suit on under your baggy t-shirt and jean shorts. This felt so…normal. That alone brought a smile to your face.

Joel was already there, a blanket and some towels and a picnic basket on the ground next to him. If you'd been looking at him and not stunned at everything he'd brought, you might have noticed the way his entire face lit up.

"Joel," you finally turned to him and felt your legs already turn to tell at the sight of him, "you've…definitely gone well above what I expected."

"Well, I had to make this a good first time…e-experience," his cheeks flushed a pretty pink as you giggled at him.

"A good first time, huh?" You teased and yeah. You were absolutely going to be the death of him.

"First time swimming," he stared at his feet, mentally kicking himself for how foolish you made him feel, "first experience with swimming."

"Relax Miller," you put your hand on his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze, "I'm just teasin'."

"You're being cruel," he insisted as you shrugged innocently, "we're here for a very serious purpose."

"You're right," you nodded firmly, "let's get started…unless you want to eat first?"

"Food after," he insisted as you playfully rolled your eyes and nodded. You kicked off your slides and tugged down your shorts. Your t-shirt had been oversize and baggy enough that nothing was really showing.

This much Joel could handle. This was still in the safe zone. He mirrored your actions and pulled down his pants, leaving his bottom half in swim trunks. You took a moment to admire that much of him.

Then you did it; you almost gave him a heart attack as you lifted up your shirt, making quick work of throwing it off and discarding it into the growing clothes pile. Joel inhaled sharply as he looked you over with wide eyes.

You were wearing a two-piece, one that first you perfectly, highlight every curve, and looked like it was made for you. Joel was almost drooling as he willed himself not stare at your ass or breasts, reminding himself that this was just to teach you to swim. A valuable life skill.

But he was slowly forgetting that with each passing moment, drinking you in and trying his best to remain respectful. You were just so damn beautiful.

You caught him staring and instantly shied away, worried by his silent reaction, "is this too much? Should I try and change into something else-

"No!"

"This was the only one I could scrounge up," you nervously scratched the back of your neck, "nobody seemed to have anything better."

Right. Because no one else in Jackson had something better or more modest. They did, of course they did, but…they were also tired of watching the two of you moon over each other and thought that maybe this would push the two of you in the right direction. Friendly encouragement, Ellie would call it.

"It's fine," it was anything but fine. It was giving him a heart attack and a hard on, "really."

"Okay," you nodded shyly as he cleared his throat, "come on then, I can't be the only one this exposed!"

Joel hesitated for a moment before moving to take off his shirt. It was something he still struggled with at times, but he knew that you'd never judge him. If there was anything he trusted, it was you.

As soon as he was shirtless you had to work to keep from jumping his bones. He was always insanely attractive in that rugged, handsome way and this was no exception. Golden skin marred with the harshness and cruelty of the years and dotted with freckles. You wanted to map them out with your lips, to taste him, and make him yours. It could be so simple, really. All you had to do-

"Hey," Joel snapped you out of your little daydream fantasy and you looked back at him with a soft, dreamy smile, "take a picture, huh?"

"Ha ha," damn. He'd caught you red-handed, "let's get started."

"Get in the water," he insisted as he jerked his head to the side.

"Pardon?"

"Dive right in," he repeated, "I'll go first and make sure you don't drown, sweetheart. Gotta learn to tread water first and foremost."

"I…I'm nervous," you confessed softly, "what if I can't do it?"

"You can," he promised softly, "I have full faith in you. And you know I would never let anything happen to you."

You both knew he was right.

"Okay. I trust you," you whispered, walking to the water's edge.

It was sink or swim, and something told you that was going to be applicable for multiple things today.

"Good," he promised, "come on."

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Turned out that swimming wasn't too bad at all. Or too hard. What was that old expression - like a duck to water? Well that happened to be you. It probably didn't hurt that you didn't want to make a fool out of yourself in front of Joel, so you listened closely and tried your best to do exactly what he was telling you.

Admittedly it was hard to stay focused with him close and so bare and so hands on. Every fiber of your being was humming with anticipation and nerves.

"Not so hard," Joel grinned as you swam to a stop in front of him. You were practically glowing under his praise.

"Not so bad-" but just then you felt something touch your leg, and you shrieked. It was such an odd and unexpected sensation that your body did the first thing it could thing of - grab onto to Joel.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," you were holding onto him tightly, pressing your body into his as you willed whatever had touched you to disappear. Joel, naturally and instinctively, wrapped his arm around you in a protective manner, "what's wrong? What happened?"

“I felt something,” you closed your eyes and buried your face into his neck - his glorious, lovely neck - and tried to calm down, “it was brushed against my leg. It felt so weird and gross.”

“Oh,” and he laughed, the bastard had the audacity to laugh, as you pulled back and looked at him with a pretty pout on your lips. He longed to kiss it away, “we’re in a lake sweetheart, there’s bound to be some fish in here.”

“Fish?” your nose wrinkled in disgust, something which he found endearing as hell, “I…that makes sense. But I don’t like it! It felt horrible.”

“You’re okay,” he promised sweetly, pushing your wet hair behind your ears, “I’ve got you.”

“I know,” there was a palpable shift between the two of you then and there. He didn’t let go of you, and you weren’t in a hurry to pull out of his touch. You opened and closed your mouth a few times, at a loss for words. Instead, you just looked at him, the human embodiment of heart eyes, “Joel.”

“How much longer are we going to keep doing this?” he asked so quietly that for a moment you wondered if he’d even said anything. But then he was so close, and so close for you to finally kiss.

“D-doing what?” you stammered nervously, well aware of what he meant.

“Dancing around each other,” he brushed his knuckles over your cheek and you made a small sound in the back of your throat, “acting like we don’t want this. So close, but never quite there.”

“We could stop…”

“We should stop,” he agreed with a small nod, tilting his head as he cupped the back of your neck with a soft touch, “if you want to.”

"Oh totally, I want to,” you agreed, and before you knew it, his lips were on yours and he was kissing in the sweetest and most gentle touch. You couldn’t help the small moan that escaped you as he pulled you impossibly closer and you melded your body into his. He didn’t stop until you were breathless and definitely in a dizzying love spiral.

“Look at that,” he pressed his forehead against yours, closing his eyes as you sighed softly, “nothing happened and you, sweetheart, know how to swim.”

“I had a pretty good teacher,” and with that you kissed him again, lazy and saccharine, neither of you in a rush to end what had been building for so long, “you know?”

“It’s easy when you have a good student,” he teased affectionately, “you’re going to be the death of me…but you already knew that, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” you sighed into his touch, “but you love it.”

“I do,” he had to stop himself from saying what was really on his mind just yet. He didn’t want to rush; he wanted to take the time to cultivate what he had with you, to watch it blossom and grow over time, “I do.”

#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #pedro pascal #tlou #tlou hbo #the last of us

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becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys · 4 months

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Oh I saw you answer a question about lecturing so I'd like to ask another! I am a postgrad student but miraculously landed a job as an instructor in my uni for an elective module on Language and Culture for Beginners for undergrads. I was all like "wohoooo that's great I know this shit" until I discovered there were going to be 20 people in my class so now I'm like 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 because it's my first time teaching and what if they eat me alive. What if no one collaborates on the module I've designed to be interactive. What if no one caressssssssssssss I'd wilt like a flower 😭

Well, the great thing about uni is, these are adult learners who want to be here and are paying a lot to do so, so the chances of total non-engagement are low and outright refusal even lower. And if they do, you're under no obligation to keep anyone in the class, so you can boot them out if they're disruptive.

(In five years, this has yet to happen to me. The closest I've come was two guys who just wanted to chat, but saying to them "Lads, I don't know if you've noticed, but someone has built a lecture hall around you" worked a charm, and then they apologised and paid attention.)

So, the odds are staggeringly in your favour that you will not be cannibalised! You'll be absolutely fine on that count.

The engagement levels - that's a more reasonable concern, though again, remember that they've chosen to be here. This isn't high school - they're interested in the subject, and in what you have to say. So, you need to just make sure you're doing all the things that boost engagement. Examples:

NOTHING ON THIS EARTH switches students off faster than when the lecturer is bored by the subject. Regardless of your personal views on any given part of the material, to them you must be visibly and obviously Super Interested In The Subject at all times.

Human attention spans experience a lapse every 10-18 minutes - this is why TED Talks are that long. Change your learning activity in time with this. If you're doing straight lecturing for 10 minutes, then throw out a question to the class - "So what is everyone's experience of this? How might this be applied to X situation? What would do do if this happened to you?" etc. Or a research task - give them 10 minutes to look up a set of terms in groups, and then report back to the class. Your next slide could be the one that then explains the definitions of those terms yourself, but it gives them a bit of variety, and a bit of self-learning

Do they look like they're flagging? Get them up and moving. Ask a question like "So which of you agree with X, which agree with Y?" Instead of hands up, make them get up and go to different sides of the room. Then ask them to explain their reasoning. (Be aware of disabilities when doing this)

Give them activities to work on in groups. It's great for applied learning anyway, but also for helping them bond with each other, and it keeps them more awake and engaged. But also:

Students are much more likely to pay attention when they can see why the material they're learning is relevant. If it feels like a filler lesson, they won't pay attention. This is one reason of many that a class of 20 will work for you, actually - that's small enough that you can get to know these students, and what fields they've come from, and what they want to move into. If one or two seem disengaged, find out how to emphasise the relevance of their fields to this course, and vice versa.

And on that note, call on their experience! That's the glory of adult education - these are people who have lived lives, even if only for 18 years. Call on that. Example: my field is the environment, but this year, we have a farmer on the course. That's an absolute gift to class discussions, because if we're talking about land management practices, she can describe the socio-economic pressures farmers are under to do poor practices in the name of Line Goes Up far better than I can.

You will learn to spot the quiet ones. These ones are listening and learning, but shit scared of standing out. You might be tempted to call on them directly to answer questions, but this will make them shrivel in an attempt to seem smaller so you won't attack. Instead, draw them in by going around the class to ask the same question, and come to the quiet ones towards the end. This gives them time to realise that the question is coming, and lets them formulate an answer; they'll also be less scared of Getting It Wrong if they see the variety of answers everyone else is giving

On that note: There Are No Stupid Questions. Not in your class. You need to actively encourage the students to think that it's a safe learning space, and that includes asking things that might be the dumbest fucking question you've ever heard in your life; doesn't matter, you still answer it with the same gravity as any other. In This House We Love And Support Each Other.

If you truly think they won't collaborate properly, the trick is to have a fall back. It's very unlikely that they won't, but just have a plan B in case.

Either way... honestly, there's a reason I always tell people that, while I'm a lecturer, I could never be a teacher. Adult education is easy mode. You'll be fine - you know your shit, you're already planning fun collaborative activities, you've got this.

And if it doesn't work out, and I mean this very genuinely and honestly - a huge part of teaching is figuring out what works and what doesn't work for the students. Your job is work out how to fit the knowledge you hold into the uniquely-shaped holes in their heads, and that will be slightly different every time. You've got them for the whole module - you can afford to take a breath and try again if they bounce off of your first attempt. That's not a sign that you can't do it - that is the job. Getting it right first time requires a big component of luck, even using the tricks above.

So. Good luck! And enjoy it - the students can also tell if you're having a blast

#asks #the professional world of careers and tasks

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fancyfeathers · 3 months

Text

Yandere Dottore (normalized yandere AU)

going from this post and the credit to the names goes to @busy-dadzawa-fish who I asked if I could use the names they came up with here as placeholder names for the other darlings when writing from different perspectives

The last time you saw Zandik was the day before he was expelled from the Akademiya. You had always been close friends, sticking with each other through thick and thin, but something felt off. He had tried to convince you that you should leave the Akademiya and how they are constricting your research, you thought of it as just a silly idea, nothing more. Then the next day he was gone, you heard whispers about how he was conducting inhumane experiments and the Akademiya had no choice but to expel him. You felt horribly betrayed by someone you once called friend, but now as you hear it everything made sense. Zandik was always secretive when discussing his research with you, not to mention his controlling tendencies when you would do something he didn’t like.

You didn’t hear from your old friend for years, not until you received a letter from a Fatui soldier, your heart sank when you read it. The letter was from Zandik, or rather his new alias, Il Dottore,number two of the Fatui Harbingers. It was the same handwriting, the same style that Zandik used to write in, but now it felt so dark now that you knew everything. It was begging you to come and join him, telling you to think of all the great things you could accomplish together, but his true nature disgusted you, it made you feel sick. You discarded the letter and didn’t even bother to write back.

You went on to live your life, graduate from the Akademiya, moving on to continue your medical research, and you did amazing things. You cured so many people, saved so many lives, found new ways to heal complex injuries and sickness. You weren’t in it for the fame or the fortune, just to help people, that is all you ever wanted. Of course, your research does not go unnoticed…

You remember the fire…

You remember the bright colors as your lab was ablaze…

The broken equipment…

The missing research…

Oh what a fool you were…

You were out one day, going to gather materials, leaving your house and lab unattended. You should have made better notice of the people you passed on the street that day, including the two Fatui agents walking pass you as you left your house.

You remember standing in front of your blazing house as people attempted to put out the flames. Your heart was shattered into a million tiny pieces as you watched your whole life go up in flames, literally.

You stayed with your friend for a few weeks, a friend from school, she was kind enough to let you stay with her. As you were cleaning up after dinner she came up to you, holding a letter. She told you she found it in the crack under the door, someone must have slipped it under there. You recognized the Fatui insignia as you ripped it open, your heart going a million miles per hour.

Meet me at our old study spot if you want your research back, bring nothing.

You burned with rage, you knew who it was from and you had a guess what would happen if you accepted and what would happen if you didn’t. You knew Dottore’s twisted nature and you would likely be stuck with him for the rest of your days if you accepted, and if you rejected you would be harassed by the Fatui and hunted down until you accepted. Your research was your life’s work, you couldn’t just give it up, so you set out like he asked, but on the way a small accident occurred. You ran into a young ex-Fatui solider who was literally running from the Fatui when you met him, . You had managed to use your dendro vision to hide the two of you in a tree while the Fatui passed. Once you were about to go your separate ways he somehow convinced you not to, probably because he was in the same situation you were in but with Capitano.

You learned that the ex-Fatui’s name was Julius, and he definitely was not fit to be a soldier with how kind and gentle he was. You two traveled around for quite sometime until you met a strange woman who you had come to know as the Historian, and she was not to different from the two of you. She introduced you to others like you two, and you all kept connections with one another but while they could find one another they couldn’t find the Historian again, it was like she hid herself. You and Julius set yourselves up with traveling Sumeru, with you trying to rebuild your research the best you can and Julius protecting you. You never went into cities, it could be to dangerous.

Then you heard of the kidnapping of one of your friends, Colombina’s darling, along with many of the others meeting you and Julius in Sumeru, telling you of everything that happened. You were being backed into a corner and archons know where the Historian is. So while everyone was sleeping at the campsite you went on a walk to clear your mind. You sat at the base of a statue of the seven, looking down at the dendro vision in your hands, wondering why you were given this, you didn’t feel wise, you felt like a fool. You didn’t even process the footsteps coming up from behind you

“Oh (Name)”

Your heart sank at that voice, and your blood run cold. The blue haired doctor came to walk in front of you, kneeling down to be on eye level with you, despite the mask he wore.

“You look so tired.”

His words of comfort reminded you of the man he used to be, almost making you forget of the monster he was that was right in front of you. A second longer and you might have broke down into her arms, crying and apologizing when none of this was your fault, but luckily someone calling your name snapped you out of your trance. You slapped him across the face, his mask falling to the ground revealing the thin scar covering bits of his face, parts of his forehead, nose, cheeks, it wasn’t terrifying or disturbing just purely shocking. Now the Zandik you knew was gone both in personality and appearance. But before the doctor could recover from your strike, a flaming arrow came, zipping right past you and striking the harbinger tight in the shoulder. You turned to see Julius, bow in hand, and pyro vision on his hip. He called put to you again and you didn’t waste a moment before you followed after your friend, running into the forest, a place where even a harbinger would have a hell of a time finding you.

…You were tired

…but you still have to run.

#yandere genshin x you #yandere genshin #yandere genshin imagines #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere dottore #yandere dottore x reader #dottore x reader

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kwanisms · 1 year

Text

Kinkuary 03 Jeonghan — somnophilia // lingerie

➥ idol!Jeonghan × non idol!Reader summary: Jeonghan and Y/N have a nonverbal form of communicating consent for their shared somnophilia kink. Y/N wears lingerie if she wants him to fuck her in her sleep which Jeonghan is always down for. wc: 1.4k warnings: afab reader, adult dialogue, sexual content (minors dni!): jeonghan has a lingerie kink, unprotected sex (use protection!), sensual massage, somnophilia (sex while one party is sleeping. they've established a form of consensual communication), sleepy sex, jeonghan cums on the reader's ass, slight hair pulling, a little praise and some pet names (angel, sweetheart, honey, baby) Permanent taglist: @yoonguurt @candidupped Kinkuary full taglist: @baldi-2 @wonderfulshinee @lacie220900 @sup-dallyboy Seventeen taglist: @aikisbbq @95cheols @drunk-on-dk @niktwazny303 MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. Join the taglist!

a/n: somnophilia is one of my favorite kinks to read but I've never written it so I'm glad I decided to try it out. The idea of my partner using me while I'm sleeping or possibly even waking me up by fucking me is so hot and so underrated for real. As always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only. banner made by me. I do not allow reposts or translations of my works. All my works are ©️ kwanisms.

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Somnophilia, the desire to have sex with an unconscious, sleeping or comatose person who is unable to respond.

Not exactly everyone’s cup of tea, but it certainly was yours. And lucky for you, it was also your boyfriend’s.

The first time you mentioned your interest in the kink, Jeonghan’s interest was piqued immediately, asking many questions to learn more about your kink. As you explained the fantasy of being used while you were asleep, you noticed Jeonghan was just as into the idea as you were.

Of course, nothing could happen without consent and there laid a problem. How would you consent to him using you while you slept? Jeonghan came up with the perfect solution. Lingerie.

Your boyfriend made it known early on that he loved lingerie. You could count the times you had sex completely bare on one hand. The rest of the time had been in the comfort of your shared bedroom, you donned in lace sets he purchased just for you.

“So if I want to be used in my sleep, I just wear this?” You asked, holding up the newest set Jeonghan had purchased for you during his trip to Paris fashion week. He nodded eagerly, smiling widely. “Precisely,” he answered, watching as you inspected the material.

It was a beautiful three piece set. A bra, panty, and garter belt set, all black mesh and lace with pink floral embroidery. You glanced back up at him. “Okay,” you answered simply, mirroring his smile. Jeonghan leaned across the sofa, pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

It was an unorthodox system but it worked for the both of you. You got what you wanted and your boyfriend got what he wanted. It was a win-win situation.

Jeonghan seemed to think so when he arrived home late one night from practice to find you passed out in your shard bed, covers resting around your thighs and the black set on full display.

Practice had been particularly rough that day, no one seemed to want to be there and they all agreed their heads weren’t in the right space. Despite that, each one of them persevered through it, managing to get through the day.

You’d sent words of encouragement and support to Jeonghan through KKT throughout the day and if he was being honest, he wasn’t sure he’d make it through without your constant support.

So when he came home to find you wearing the black set, it was like a dream come true.

Jeonghan decided to clean up before joining you in bed, undressing and getting into the shower.

Once done in the shower and dried, Jeonghan finally entered the bedroom and climbed into bed, pulling back the covers and slipping under them.

He rolled over to look at you, watching the way you mumbled sleepily and shifted, bringing your knee up a little higher and showing off the curve of your ass unintentionally.

Jeonghan scooted closer, propping himself up on one elbow and reaching over slowly to brush your hair back a little. His thumb traced the curve of your cheek before moving down to toy with the black mesh of your lingerie.

His eyes continued to wander, his hand following the same path slowly until his hand was resting on the small of your back. His eyes moved back up, looking at your face and making sure you were still deep in slumber before he moved his hand again, smoothing over your ass and giving it a firm squeeze.

You moaned in your sleep, pressing back against Jeonghan’s hand.

Jeonghan smiled, his free hand moving down to press against his hardening cock.

The hand on your body continued to slowly massage, gripping and smoothing over the exposed skin while he continued to palm himself through his pants.

Sitting up carefully, Jeonghan moved the blanket back and shifted, pushing your legs aside to make space enough for him to settle between your thighs.

Both of his hands moved, fingers skimming up your thighs, stopping to rest on your ass before he hooked his fingers under the material of your panties and slowly pulled them down, discarding them quickly.

Even though you were deep in your sleep, Jeonghan could see that his touches and massaging had its intended effect on you and you were wet.

“I’ve barely touched you, baby,” he muttered under his breath, bringing two fingers to toy with your entrance, dropping down to find your clit and draw slow circles.

His other hand pushed his sweats and underwear down, freeing his cock as he scooted closer, pushing his fingers into your heat, pulling a moan from your sleeping form.

Jeonghan pulled his fingers out and brought them to his lips, cleaning them of your arousal before spitting into his hand and spreading it along his length.

He positioned the tip of his cock at your entrance and pushed into you, letting out a low groan at the way your walls hugged him as he bottomed out, hips flush with your ass.

“Shit, Y/N,” he whispered, not wanting to wake you with his voice. “You feel so good, baby.”

Pulling back slightly, Jeonghan thrust forward slowly, testing the waters and seeing just how deep in your slumber you were. When you didn’t react he kept going, thrusting a little harder.

Not wanting to hold you too tightly, he placed his hands on the mattress on either side of your hips and continued to thrust into you.

Your body jostled on the bed, soft gasps leaving your lips.

Jeonghan let out a low moan, hips faltering for just a moment before regaining his composure, feeling you start to stir under him.

“H-Hannie?” Your voice called out softly.

Jeonghan leaned over, pressing his lips to your shoulder. “Shh baby,” he replied just as softly. “Go back to sleep.”

“Mmm,” you murmured. “F-feels s-so good.”

“I know, baby,” Jeonghan answered, one of his hands moving to comb through your hair, fingers gripping the hair at the base of your head. “You feel so good, too,” he whispered.

“Don’t stop,” you gasped, fingers digging into the sheets, bracing yourself from the sharp snap of Jeonghan’s hips against your ass.

“Shh,” he whispered. “Be good for me. Relax and go back to sleep, angel,” Jeonghan moaned in your ear, tugging gently on your hair.

You let out a whine at the sensation, eyes shutting as you tried to do as he said.

You really wanted to go back to sleep, exhausted from being woken up so late but the pleasure you were feeling was stronger than your will to go to sleep, so you just laid still for your boyfriend, eyes shut as you gasped and whined with each thrust.

“Good girl,” Jeonghan groaned, his thrusts growing more frantic as he chased his high. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

You moaned out your boyfriend’s name, walls squeezing him as your own orgasm rolled over you. Jeonghan wasn’t far behind you, pulling out of you just in time to release on your ass, moaning out your name.

“Shit,” he huffed, sitting back on his heels. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he said sheepishly as he watched his cum slowly roll down the skin of your ass and drip onto your cunt. “I made a mess all over you.”

“S’okay, Hannie,” you murmured, cheek pressed against your pillow. “I’ll clean you up, honey,” he answered, climbing off the bed. “No, it’s okay!” You protested but he was in the bathroom and back with a warm, wet washcloth before you knew it.

“I’d feel horrible if you went to sleep all sticky,” he added as he wiped inside your thighs and ass clean. “I don’t mind,” you mumbled, making him chuckle.

“You’d mind in the morning,” he retorted and you realized he was absolutely right.

“Yeah,” you answered. “But I could always shower in the morning,” you added.

“Yeah, you could,” Jeonghan said with a chuckle as he finished wiping you clean.

“Let’s do that then,” he continued. “Let’s take a shower in the morning but for now, go back to sleep, honey,” he added, leaning over to press a kiss to your hair.

“Mmm, okay,” you murmured as he pulled the covers over you. He discarded the used towel in the hamper in the bathroom before joining you under the covers, smiling as you snuggled into him, burying your face in his chest.

“Goodnight, Hannie,” you whispered as he pulled you tight against him.

“Hmm, goodnight, angel.”

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #yoon jeonghan #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan smut #jeonghan x reader #kwanisms kinkuary #kinkuary 2023

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yourfavepookiebear · 2 months

Note

Hello ! I hope you have a great day. Can I please request Leona, Lilia, and Rook with a cheerful s/o ? For example s/o is nice,friendly,funny and mostly positive ? It's okay if you don't feel like doing this though, it's up to you :)

Of course pooks ! And sorry for the late ass reply, I was hella busy these past few weeks (I'm always busy but still) anyways, this one was kinda fun to write, and I had "lay all your love on me" playing in my headphones too, cuz music helps me concentrate. It took me a long while to write this tho because my imagination is shit when it comes to coming up with stuff.

Cw : none ? Just cotton candy-material fluff. A bit ooc, and short asf. Rushed too

♡☆ Leona Kingscholar ☆♡

Has a love-hate relationship with your personality

It's complicated ; he finds it cute, but at the same time, why the hell are you being kind to anyone that isn't him ???

Naturally when someone has a good personality it means lots of people will want to be close to them, which is good for you but bad for Leona.

In conclusion, he : 1. Finds it a bit endearing. 2. Is annoyed bc you're a bug magnet (by bug he means people)

Also he's absolutely flabbergasted at how you manage to be so positive and cheerful.

You frfr need to teach him cuz he urgently needs it. (His pessimistic ass is jealous asf)

But he'll learn to appreciate it, eventually..

(Eventually means maybe in 30 years when he turns 50. Eventually also means probably never. Eventually means only god knows)

♡♤ Lilia ♤♡

Absolutely loves It.

He finally has someone to be funny, cheerful, and silly with.

Yall are fucking partners in crime at this point, (except Lilia does all the work and you just sit back and watch)

Now now, don't get your hopes up, just because you're partners in crime doesn't mean you're safe from his pranks

And worst of all, he'll definitely have you try his food. (You better run into the forest and never come back)

Appreciates your cheerfulness, and your sense of humor

♡♡ Rook ♡♡

"Oh mon dieu, QUELLE BEAUTÉ !!!"

Will make poems and songs about your cheerfulness and will most likely adress you as Kalim's counterpart (although you're a bit tamer than Kalim)

Will fr show up under your window/balcony at 5 in the morning and start singing about your "beauté sublime" (guitar in hand n all)

Will probably gift you a rabbit or sum. Don't ask why.

I hc he refers to you as "jumeau du soleil" or "beauté du jour" !!!!!!!

#yourfavepookiebear #rook hunt #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst fics #rook hunt x reader #leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader #lilia vanrouge #lilia vanrouge x reader #disney twst #x reader fics #twst hcs #gn reader #can be read as platonic or romantic #can be read as anything #the pookiest writes

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milksnake-tea · 1 year

Text

5 + 1

"The 5 times he thought he loved you, and the 1 time he knew."

rollo flame x gn!reader

contains: fluff, pining (a lot of it like oh my god), strangers to friends to lovers, rollo being emotionally constipated, lots of POV changes, slight spoilers for rollo's backstory

word count: 6.3k

note: i can't defend myself </3 my legacy is just rollo at this point and i can't stop it

tags: @crysangria

———

Rollo doesn’t fall in love.

He’s well aware of its existence; the City of Flowers is renowned for its rather romantic aspects. Since the beginning of time, newly budding couples somehow always managed to hide in every corner of the city - tucked away from the overall public, but obvious enough for any local. Anyone who’s lived in the city for longer than a month learns to avoid the bridges, the alleyways, and of course, any bench at night.

While he has never understood the reasonings behind lovers’ touches and dreamy stares, even Rollo is unable to deny that the affections they displayed didn’t sound so bad… If he didn’t spend his first year in the city running into couples making out at every corner.

Noble Bell was no different.

In his three years at the institution, Rollo had quickly become accustomed to scolding the couples he found in the closets, under the staircases, and in empty classrooms. He learned to tune out the swoonings and fawnings that even his fellow council members fell victim to.

When his peers fell in and out of love, Rollo remained impartial - a stone-cold statue of a president, unswayed by human emotion.

That was, until he met you.

—[1]—

A friend of a friend, that was who you were. A fellow third year who stayed just under the radar: never aiming too high, but never stooping too low. Just another face in the crowd, no one whom he would need to ever speak with.

The first time he sees you is in the library, during a study session between him, his secretary, and his vice president. Despite being part of the student council and already having a lot on their shoulders, Rollo’s top priority was education - and naturally, he would not let his peers fall.

It was obvious from the way their table was isolated that no one dared to even be near them. There were three other chairs at the table, but not a single soul dared to touch them, even if the library was overrun due to the upcoming exams.

Well, apparently you were not one of those souls.

“Um… Excuse me, is this seat taken?”

Even if your voice was silenced to a whisper, the library’s murmurs skidded to a halt, as though someone had pressed a pause button. Suddenly, it was as if everyone in the world was holding their breath, their piercing gazes lining your back. Even Rollo’s friends looked afraid for your safety, his secretary giving you the most incredulous of looks.

And if asking to sit at their table wasn’t bad enough, you’d made the poor choice to choose the seat directly next to Rollo himself.

You were already regretting your decision, but you’d already committed to the act. Right now, your need to study was stronger than your fear of Rollo, and you were not going to join the poor souls on the floor.

Rollo was probably the only one who seemed unaffected by your request. He only glanced up from his paper for a moment, his striking green eyes meeting your own before he gave you a curt nod and returned to his work.

To say he was surprised was an understatement. His shock only deepened when you sat down, unloading your bag and taking out all of your study materials after a quick wave to his secretary. In only three minutes, you had settled into your work - as if you weren’t sitting next to the most feared and respected man in all of Noble Bell.

It was refreshing.

Soon enough, the library forgot you, and the hushed whispers rose back up again - both with gossip and with the frustrated grumblings of struggling students. As Rollo reviewed his lessons, studiously jotting down important notes and underlining key concepts, he couldn’t help but find his gaze drifting over to you.

Although you didn’t say anything (why would you, you were in a library), he could tell that you were stressed - even more so than usual. The frustration in your eyes was one that he was familiar with, the eraser shavings and the scrambled calculations a key signal that you were having trouble.

Looking at what you were struggling with, he recognized the practice test for your upcoming chemistry test. Being the responsible student council president he was, he naturally stepped in to assist.

“You forgot to use the formula.”

“Huh.” You startled, your voice coming out strained and irritated at the sudden interruption. Rollo points at your calculations.

“Look here,” he explained, pointing at the rate table. “When they give you the Kc, the temperature, and the balanced equation, you use this to find Kp.”

Without any sense of shame, he reaches over and writes a formula next to your calculations. His handwriting is absurdly neat - almost as though it had been printed. You blank at the formula, recognizing it as the one you’d learned in the first lesson of this unit.

You groan in frustration as you erased your writing one more time. “By the Seven… I’m so stupid.”

“Don’t belittle yourself,” Rollo comments offhandedly, returning to his notes. “It happens to the best of us. Rather than a matter of intelligence, it’s an issue in memory and sleep deprivation.”

“You’re the one with eyebags,” you instinctively mutter. Instantaneously, the world freezes as you register your snip. Your eyes widen, and you’re already spewing apologies while Rollo stands still, caught off guard. “Sorry, that wasn’t my-”

“Are you always this straightforward with strangers?” he asks, and without thinking, you shoot back a retort.

“No, are you?” Immediately, you slap a hand over your mouth, horrified. “Oh my God, I am so sorry-”

His face is turned away from you, but you swear that you caught the corners of his lips twitching - quirking up into the slightest of smiles. “Be careful with your words.”

“O-Of course," you sigh. “My bad.”

“Take care not to do it again.” Just as quickly as it came, Rollo’s smile disappeared, returning to neutrality. Perhaps he had never smiled at all. Thinking logically, you’re more inclined to believe the latter option.

Even his fellow council members are shocked. Rollo raises a brow at the way you rub your eyes, trying to make sense of what you saw. You’re so expressive, unlike the other students who kept it all hidden behind a mask of professionalism. It was refreshing, endearing even.

“You’d better get back to work now,” he advises (although it sounds like an order), his pen moving once more. “Exams are not meant to be taken lightly.”

“Right,” you mutter. Rollo’s eyes crinkle at the blatant distaste on your face as you reluctantly return to chemistry. You weren’t the only student who hated studying, far from it, but you were definitely the most open about it - especially in front of Rollo, who was infamous for his strict personality.

It’s not long before you test the waters and lightly tug at Rollo’s sleeve. Wordlessly, he glances over, and you show him your newly formed calculations - almost like a child showing off their newest drawing to their parents.

“Is this right?”

Rollo peers over at your shoulder, scanning the work you’ve written. He nods in satisfaction, looking over at you with something akin to pride.

“Good work,” he praises.

“Thanks,” you sigh in relief. You smile up at him. “It’s mainly because you helped me, though. So thanks for that, President.”

“Just Rollo is fine,” he assures calmly. You blink.

“You sure?”

“I prefer my name rather than my status,” Rollo explains. You hum in understanding.

“Gotcha. Thanks, Rollo.”

Rollo’s pen stills. You shoot him a questioning look, but he brushes it off and continues studying. He didn’t expect you to say it so easily - maybe he’d thought you’d be more hesitant.

But he doesn’t hate it.

Rather, a small part of him finds that he rather likes the way his name rolls off your tongue.

—[2]—

You don’t expect to see Rollo again after that encounter, but it seems that fate had other plans.

Magical History wasn’t your favorite class, but it wasn’t the worse. You didn’t mind learning about the wars and inventions, and if anything, that made it all the more interesting to you. But your favorite part of it was how different people took up different sides and perspectives on each part of history.

You tapped your pencil impatiently against your notebook, eyes flicking from the chalkboard and to the clock. Class wasn’t starting for another five minutes, but you were anxious to get started. Today’s lecture was primarily for review, and Lord knows you needed it.

You glance over when someone sits next to you, only to choke on your spit when you see it’s Rollo Flamme himself. You rapidly scan the lecture hall, only to become more confused when you see that there was a multitude of seats open - in fact, the room was rather vacant.

“At ease,” Rollo says, his monotone voice not helping him in the slightest. You cough, smiling at him weakly. Suddenly, his tall stature was all the more apparent. “The view from here is the best in the room.”

“Yep…” You rub your arms awkwardly, suddenly cold despite the warm uniform you don. Now you were really praying that your teacher would show up quicker.

“Are you alright?” Rollo asks, noticing your demeanor. The subtle concern in his voice would’ve surprised you if you weren’t already freaked out of your wits. “Are you perhaps cold?”

“Nope!” You hastily reply, startling him with your raised voice. “I’m just peachy.”

“Peachy?” Rollo questions, but it seems like the Seven had been looking over you that day. You’ve never been more relieved in your life to see your teacher, today’s savior, walking through the door.

You have no idea how you manage to focus on the lecture with Rollo right next to you. Just his presence enough is intimidating, suffocating even, as though he was watching, judging your every move. He doesn’t even do anything special - he’s just listening to the lecture like every other student.

Sometimes, you think you see him staring at you, but whenever you look over, he’s quick to avert his gaze. It’s almost impressive, and you almost say something about it - except even you know better than to antagonize the student council president during a lecture.

For the first half hour of the lecture, you’re stuck in this state of constant edge, barely able to relax with this 6-foot giant practically looming over your shoulder. He wasn’t even doing anything in particular, but he didn’t need to. Just being there is enough to put you into fight-or-flight mode.

Sometimes you wonder if he’s just a sadist and likes watching you squirm.

You’re very correct.

Rollo’s only half paying attention to the lecture - he knows all of the content already. Rather, he finds entertainment and peeking over at you, seeing you freeze and stiffen up whenever you catch him in the act. It’s a game of cat and mouse for him, something he finds adorable.

“Why do you keep staring at me?” you whisper from the corner of your mouth. Rollo raises a brow.

“We shouldn’t be talking in class,” he replies simply, pretending to be paying attention. You roll your eyes.

“Nice dodge,” you scoff playfully, and Rollo smiles. It’s not much - just a quirk of the lips, so small that you’d have to squint to see it. It’s a smile whose warmth is subdued, like a little match in a snowstorm. You can’t put your finger on it; it’s almost like fondness, except that doesn’t sound right for the Rollo Flamme.

"You’re smiling," you state the obvious. Yet there's a certain awe in it - someone would've thought that Rollo had grown two heads by the way you were looking at him.

Rollo’s pen stops in its movements. He seems to lag for a moment, surprised and unsure, before his lips straighten and he’s back to normal.

“Is there an issue?”

“No,” you laugh. The initial fear you had felt has dissipated. Rollo’s smile, despite being so small you'd have to look at it through a microscope, was still a smile. “Just didn’t expect it from you, y’know? Since you’re all big and serious around here.”

“I see,” Rollo says quietly, turning away. If it weren’t for his stone-cold face, you would’ve compared him akin to a kicked puppy.

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing,” you say. “I think it looks nice on you.”

Rollo remains silent, but the slight widening of his eyes is key enough. It's enough to bring a smile onto your face as you return your attention to the lecture.

Rollo doesn’t say anything after that, but he doesn’t need to. Any tension that had existed between you two had evaporated, the invisible wall opening its gates. Your body has visibly relaxed, and you’re able to fully concentrate on the lesson again.

In the corner of your eye, although you’re almost certain you imagine it, you think you see Rollo’s eyes soften.

—[3]—

When you’re not studying your sanity away at school, you’re working.

You work part-time at one of the many bakeries in the City of Flowers, famed for their pastries. You also sell coffee and tea for the many tired students from the college (such as yourself), so you’re used to seeing many of your classmates coming in the morning.

Around a month has passed since your little moment with Rollo. To put it simply, the two of you have gotten closer.

Studying together in the library became a common occurrence as you found yourself frequenting Rollo’s table more often. Apparently, Rollo’s standards wouldn’t let you study in peace, so he opted to personally tutor you to appease his own state of mind. In his own words, he couldn’t stand by and watch a classmate struggle in front of him.

Safe to say, Rollo was a strict teacher. He wasn’t afraid to point out the inconsistencies in your work, and often gave you tips on what to do. You were afraid that he’d get irritated with how much you overthought everything, but the most he’d give you would be a gentle tug on the cheek whenever you got ahead of yourself.

You look over at your shoulder at the modules you had left to complete. Thankfully, the number of papers had drastically decreased, thanks to a certain someone. Unknowingly, a smile slips onto your face at the thought of him.

The bell rings, and you’re immediately in work mode. You plaster on a customer service smile, straightening behind the counter.

“Hello, how can I help you- Oh hey, Rollo!” Your face breaks out in a grin at the sight of your study partner. “What’re you doing here?”

Honestly, it’s weird to see him without that uniform of his. Seeing him in a casual turtleneck and coat feels almost illegal, like you’re looking at something that only certain people should see.

“Oh, it’s you,” he briefly acknowledges, bright green eyes meeting your own before scanning the vast amount of display pastries. A month ago, you would’ve taken his apathetic greeting as coldness. But having been in his presence for quite a while now, you’ve learned to pick up the smallest of ques.

“Can I get you anything?”

Rollo tears his eyes away from the tempting pastries. “A medium black coffee, please.”

You nod, nimble fingers already moving to ring him up. “Will that be all?”

“Yes,” Rollo confirms, digging into his coat pocket for his wallet. As you tell him the price, you take out a coffee cup, writing Rollo’s name on it in sharpie. Turning your back to him, you opt to add a little message alongside it.

While you make the coffee, Rollo sets himself down in the corner of the bakery, taking out his study materials. You don’t miss the way his eyes linger on the croissants, almost longingly. In the back of your head, you remember one of your conversations (you’d tried distracting him so that you could get a break. It lasted 3 minutes).

“So, what kind of food do you eat?”

“The same as everyone else.”

“No, like when you’re out. You know, like in your free time?”

“Oh. I suppose… Croissants. I’m rather fond of them.”

“Eh, makes sense.”

You figure that he’d probably skipped breakfast again, knowing him. Apparently, breakfast was optional to him. Despite being only 18, Rollo was already living the life of an overworked salaryman, always worried about his council and studying his life away.

But being the good friend you were, you weren’t letting that slide. Rollo was going to take care of himself, whether he liked it or not.

“Rollo?”

Right on cue, he stands up, walking to the counter to retrieve his drink. By all means, you give it to him, but right before he leaves, you call out to him.

“Oh, you forgot this!”

Rollo’s brows crinkled at your exclaim. How could he have forgotten anything? The only thing he ordered was currently in his hands right now. Still, he returns to the counter, ready to call you out on your mistake.

He doesn’t get the chance to.

You press something wrapped and warm into his free hand. Looking down, Rollo’s pleasantly surprised with a freshly baked croissant. He jerks his face up to meet your gaze, confusion written all over his typically stoic face. It’s nice, to finally surprise him for a change.

“I know you didn’t eat breakfast today,” you explain cheerfully, leaning on your forearms on the bakery counter. “You didn’t think I would let you spend your day with just a coffee in your stomach, did you?”

“I can’t take this,” Rollo protested, already moving to hand you back the croissant. You click your tongue.

“Nope, you are,” you push his hand back. His hands are cold, you note. “It’s on the house, trust me. And if the owners have a problem with it, I can always pay for you.”

“But-”

“No buts,” you smile cheekily up at him, propping your head onto your hand. Rollo’s ears flush at just the tips. “I know you want it anyways, so stop being stubborn and just take the thing, okay? It’s fine, don’t worry.”

Rollo stares at you, conflict flickering in his eyes. To an outsider, he’s outright glaring at you, but you know there’s no malice.

You can already imagine the inner turmoil fighting in his mind. On one hand, he wants the croissant - he’s been eyeing it for a good ten minutes - and he’s hungry. On the other hand, his moral righteousness won’t let him take anything without paying.

But in the end, his hunger (and you) wins him over. He sighs, reluctantly giving in.

“If you insist,” he says cooly, ignoring the way his heart pounds in his chest. “I’d best be going now. I’ll see you in class.”

“See you,” you wave, straightening yourself. Rollo turns to leave, but right before he does, you hear a faint murmur.

“Oh, and… thank you. For the croissant.”

—[4]—

“Every day, without fail, the president climbs the tower to clean the Bell of Salvation.”

It’s pouring outside when you remember the words of your friend, Rollo’s secretary. Looking outside your dorm’s window, the streets are dark as rain cascades from the sky and onto the city. Even from inside your warm room, you can feel the cold from the outside.

You can’t help but wonder if Rollo was also out there, still cleaning that Bell.

You wouldn’t put it past him, to be honest. That man was nothing if not a workaholic. Your friends in the student council had told you of how he spent countless all-nighters just to put together school events, and that wasn’t including his work as a student. But you didn’t need them to tell you any of that. Rollo’s constant eyebags and coffee addiction told you plenty enough.

You sigh to yourself, leaning onto the window. Your friend notices your sulking, sighing to himself as he walks over. You’ve been like that for a good twenty minutes now.

“President Flamme will be fine,” he says, sitting across the windowsill from you. “He always is.”

“In this weather?” you ask, barely sparing him a glance. “He’d catch a cold before he gets any cleaning done.”

“You’d be surprised,” your friend laughs. “He can be pretty persistent when he wants to be.”

You chuckle, eyes softening with the memories. “You've got that right. I still remember how he made me stay up for two hours until I could get a problem right. He even got food so that I couldn’t use it as an excuse for a break.”

“He did that for you?” Your friend’s eyes widen in surprise. You nodded sheepishly, a fond smile creeping on your face.

“Yeah, I didn’t expect it either.”

Your friend snickers knowingly. You shoot him a look, only for him to brush it off.

“Anyway, if you’re that worried over him,” he suggests, “why don’t you go up and check on him? You’re the least likely to get yelled at if you do.”

“That’s what you say,” you roll your eyes playfully. “But you have a point. Unfortunately.”

“Always do,” your friend huffs pridefully. He winks at you as he lightly pushes you toward the exit. “Don’t worry about sneaking out. I’ll cover you.”

That’s how you found yourself scaling the old bell tower, holding an extra coat in your arms, a small flame dancing in the palm of your hand for light. You were careful to keep the flame from fanning out of control, as the tower was made from wood.

Your legs ached by the time you neared the top. You had no idea how Rollo did this on a daily basis, much less in the raging storm.

The wind battered at your face the second you reached the highest story, blowing rain into your eyes and nearly putting your flame out. Struggling to shield yourself from the wild tempest, you squint through the raindrops for Rollo. Thankfully, you didn’t have to look too far.

“Rollo?” you call out, your voice straining against the wind. Faintly you can spot the tall silhouette of your friend, somehow completely fine and still dutifully polishing the bell. “Rollo!”

The silhouette freezes, and turns to meet your gaze. You sigh in relief when you see the familiar green of his eyes, pushing your way through the storm to meet him.

“What are you doing here?” Rollo asks, caught off guard by your appearance. His gaze wanders over your body, noticing how drenched you were getting. “The storm is dangerous, you’ll catch a cold.”

“That’s what I should be saying!” you huff, lightly hitting his chest. “You’ve been out here cleaning the Bell for how long again?”

“Only an hour, the rain helps-”

You roll your eyes, putting your hands on your hips. “Only an hour?! You’re the one who’s going to get sick at this rate!”

“But I’m not-”

“Yeah, yeah, no, we’re going inside,” you retort, grabbing his hand. Rollo surprisingly doesn’t protest, allowing you to drag him off his precious bell and back into the safety of the tower. It’s by no means warmer, but it’s definitely drier.

You sit down on one of the many tables inside the tower, cringing as the walls shake from the wind. But you know that the tower won’t fall. It’s old, yes, but it has prevailed through storms like this before. The Bell of Salvation’s magic still runs strong.

“Your hands are freezing,” you comment, Rollo’s hand still intertwined with your own. His hands were always cold, but today they were like blocks of ice. You run your thumbs over the palms of his hands, cupping both of them before whispering a small spell.

Warmth tickles your palms like little embers, providing you and Rollo solace in the freezing winter. You let out a breath of contentment, before realizing just what you were doing. Snatching your hand away, you frantically apologize - not noticing the dejected look in Rollo’s eyes as you do so.

“Great Seven, I am so sorry-”

“I don’t mind,” Rollo says quietly, purposely avoiding your gaze. He silently thanks the darkened room for preventing you from seeing his flushed ears.

“You don’t?” you question, looking up at him. Briefly, you saw a glimpse of red before Rollo hastily looked away, lightly shaking his head. You feel your face warm, but decide to blame it on the magic. Hurriedly, you look for a way to change the conversation.

“So… I didn’t notice it earlier, but how are you perfectly dry in that storm?” you ask, rubbing your arms, cringing when you noticed how soaked you were. Rollo looks relieved from the change of subject.

“Magic,” he explains easily, as if it were obvious. And it kind of was. You laugh nervously, rubbing the back of your neck.

“Oh, right,” you chuckle, glancing down at your ringed finger. You hummed, waving your hand and blasting yourself with a gust of hot air, effectively drying yourself. “It really solves everything, doesn’t it.”

Rollo’s face visibly sours at your comment. “Is that how you really feel?”

The coldness in his voice surprises you. You’ve never heard such hatred and malice from him before. Had you said something wrong?

You swallow nervously. “What do you mean?”

“Do you truly think that magic solves everything?” Rollo crosses his arms, a scowl twisting his face.

“Well, it depends,” you say carefully, not wanting to set him off. You can already hear the warning bells in his tone. “The way I see it, magic’s a tool.”

“Even if it’s evil?” Rollo questions angrily. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself against him.

“I don’t think it’s evil,” you say firmly, yet softly. “I mean, look at this city. The Bell’s magic protects us, doesn’t it?”

“It didn’t protect-” Rollo cuts himself off. You give him a look, but don’t pry. It isn’t your business to ask nor to know what had happened to him for him to despise magic this much. He hadn’t said much, but it’s obvious to you.

“Like I said, magic is a tool,” you continue, facing him fully. “It’s like a knife. When you’re stabbed, you don’t blame the knife, but the person holding it.”

Rollo doesn’t say anything, but you can see the turmoil twisting in his eyes. You’re challenging something that had been in his life longer than you have, something that you’ve never seen.

You decide to take a risk, a step forward. Reaching out, you cup his hands in yours once again. Rollo only watches, confusion and anticipation keeping him curious.

You whisper your spell once again, except this time, the embers blossom into fire. Sparks of flame surround the two of you like fireflies, dancing daintily in the wind. Warmth like a mother’s embrace envelops the two of you as you hold a flickering flame in your intertwined palms.

The glow of the fire illuminates Rollo’s face, entranced by the blaze. Something moves in your chest, and you find yourself scooting closer to him so that you can bask in more of this warmth.

“Magic can be dangerous,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. You’re right beside him at this point, your shoulders nearly brushing together. Rollo turns to look at you, his face uncharacteristically gentle. You don’t notice, keeping your gaze on your flame. “And you don’t have to like it. But it can also be beautiful.”

You laugh to yourself, sighing as you lay your head on Rollo’s shoulder. You hope he doesn’t hear how loudly your heart beats. He doesn’t react, but he also doesn’t protest.

“You know, you worried the hell out of me earlier,” you suddenly confess, the flames dancing in your eyes. “I mean, you already do, with your sleeping habits and how much pressure you put on yourself. But today was… Well, it wasn’t our best day.”

“...I’m sorry,” Rollo whispers, and you almost don’t hear it. But it’s genuine, heartfelt, and sincere. You feel an arm wrap around your waist, bringing you closer together.

You smile, relaxing into his hold.

“As long as you’re okay.”

Neither of you acknowledges the position you’re in, nor the intimacy of it. You don’t have to. For now, all you do is rest, and enjoy each other’s touch.

You don’t see it, but eventually, Rollo closes his eyes, and leans his head onto yours.

It’s the most relaxed he’s ever been.

—[5]—

Rollo thinks he’s going to die.

Not literally, of course, but he was pretty close.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing out here, taking a leisurely walk around the city streets with you. He has no idea how you managed to drag him out of his uptight uniform, or how you convinced him to enjoy the snow and the festivities.

He sighs, pulling up his scarf to warm his face. You already made him layer up quite a bit, but just to be safe, you also wrapped that around him to make sure he didn’t accidentally die from touching a snowflake.

He chuckles at the thought, his breath fogging in the cold winter air. The way you constantly fretted over him, overthinking everything and taking care of him… His cheeks warmed at the thought, a fond smile overtaking his lips without him noticing.

“I’m back! God, that line was so long and I swear this lady cut in front of me and I’ve never wanted to strangle someone so badly-”

Speak of the devil, and they shall appear. Rollo’s breath clogs in his throat when you run up to him, two steaming cups of hot chocolate in your hands. He can’t help but think of how cute you were in your winter apparel, all cozy and warm.

He mindlessly tunes out your rantings, only half listening as he simply stares at your lips. Even when he takes one of the cups you offer him, he only watches. Eventually, he sees you running out of air and reaches out, patting your head to shut you up.

“Are you done?” he asks. You huff, sipping your hot chocolate to make yourself feel better - nearly burning yourself in the process.

“Yeah, I’m done,” you giggle, sticking out your tongue to cool it. “Sorry about that.”

“I like hearing you talk,” Rollo assures, effectively flustering you. Reaching out, he lightly tugs your cheek. “And be careful when you drink that. You could’ve burned yourself.”

“But I didn’t,” you mutter, rubbing your cheek with a pout. Rollo raises a brow, but you brush it off. “Anyways, how’s the chocolate?”

“Hot,” Rollo says bluntly, making you snort. “But also sweet.”

“Do you like it?” Rollo nods.

“It’s perfect for a night like this,” he observes, looking out towards the bright lights that litter the snow-covered city.

“Right?” you hum cheerfully, the snow fluttering around you prettily. “Let’s find somewhere to sit.”

The two of you quickly found a bench to seat yourselves on. You lean back onto the wooden chair, happily drinking away at your chocolate. You only stopped when you feel a presence at your shoulder.

Looking up, you let out a sound when you found Rollo’s face mere inches away from yours. Your breath hitched at the sudden proximity as you froze in place, becoming a mere statue.

You only snapped out of your phase when you felt something soft pressing up to the corner of your lips. Rollo dabs at you with one of his many handkerchiefs. The pure concentration on his face only manages to fluster you more until he pulls his hand back, seemingly satisfied with his handiwork.

“You had chocolate on your lips,” he explains, not noticing the way you stare at him, blood rushing to your face.

“...Oh,” you manage out, your voice small.

You can practically feel Rollo’s breath ghosting on your lips. Subconsciously, you held your breath, watching him carefully for his next move. Rollo seemed to have the same idea, uncertainty taking hold of him for the first time.

The two of you waited with bated breath, waiting for the other to take that risk. For a moment, the rest of the world disappeared into a flash of white.

But you both hesitated too long.

Rollo jumps as something tugs on his coat, effectively breaking the spell. He looks down to see one of the city goats staring up at him cutely, bleating for his attention. Begrudgingly, he sighs and reaches down to pet it.

The goat unfortunately uses that to jump on him. It attempts a bite at his cup, but thankfully, Rollo has quicker reflexes than one would think. His height also means that he’s able to hold the cup far out of the goat’s reach.

“No, you don’t,” he grits out, the goat’s weight heavy on him. “You can’t eat chocolate, fool.”

Something about Rollo unironically calling a goat a fool was just too ridiculous for you.

You break out laughing, your eyes crinkling. Rollo’s chest constricts at the sight, his arm relaxing for a second as he stares at you in awe - barely noticing when the goat tries again for his cup.

There are few things that he could call precious. But your smile, this moment, your laughter… He would say that they were the brightest treasures in the world.

—[ + 1 ]—

Rollo isn’t stupid.

He isn’t oblivious.

He knows the way he feels isn’t normal. He knows the way he wants you, craves you, needs you, is anything but. He always knew.

But what sets it in for him, is when he sees those couples in the streets of the city. When he sees those loving gazes towards one another, the way they hold hands, and how comfortable they are with each other, he’s no longer filled with indifferent disgust.

Rather, he wonders how it would feel to do that with you.

What would it be like, to be able to hold you and call you his own?

He’s wondered for a while. When you cup his hands in your own, he relishes in your warmth, but finds himself wanting more. When you look at him, he becomes lost in your eyes. When you smile, he sees your lips, wondering how they’d feel pressed up against his.

It’s a strange thing for him, to want something so badly.

So when he finds himself nestled in your arms, finally resting, he’s conflicted.

With his head laying gently on your chest, he practically melts into your hold. Your fingers thread through his hair, softly petting and massaging his scalp as you do. His eyes are closed, his arms wrapped loosely around your waist.

He's able to let go with you. He allows himself this small moment of vulnerability. He lets you hold him, finding redamancy in your touch. For in your arms, he is safe - this is his home.

"Thank you," he murmurs, his voice muffled by your clothes. You hum, playing with his hair.

"Of course," you shift the delicate locks between your fingers. "That's what friends are for."

Friends. He finds that the word leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. Friends, yes, that was what you were. A month or two ago, he would've been fine, delighted even, to be called such a thing.

But is it so wrong to be longing for something more?

You must've felt him stiffen, as you look down at him in concern.

"You okay, Rollo?"

He really isn't. Slowly blinking his eyes open, he raises his head to look at you.

Your hand falls from his hair to cradle his face, your thumb tenderly swiping over his cheek. Rollo closes his eyes in contentment, nuzzling into your palm - almost like a kitten, you'd comment later.

"You're unfair," he mumbles, peering at you once again. You tilt your head, prompting him to continue. He reaches up, covering your hand with his own. "You dare to hold me like this, and yet you still only call me 'friend'."

You hum, looking away bashfully. "I was afraid to call you something else."

"You were afraid of nothing." Rollo lifts his head, moving your hand so that he could press a kiss to your palm. His eyes stayed trained on yours, waiting to see any reaction - as if he was asking for permission.

The look you give him is nothing short of loving. It's what pushes him to test the boundaries even further, to push himself up. You look up at him with hidden intrigue, knowing, and even anticipation - as if you knew just what was coming ahead.

Rollo lets go of your hand, taking a hold of your chin instead, tilting it up to face him. His eyes search yours carefully, still hesitant even now.

You nod your head, silently giving your approval. Your words have lost you, unable to make it past the lump in your throat.

Rollo leans forward, close enough so that your noses brush against each other. Taking one last breath, he takes the dive, closing his eyes and gently pressing his lips to yours.

Instantly, your eyes shut as if falling into a trance. Your hand trails up to the back of his head, holding him there as the other reaches to wrap around his waist - bringing him impossibly closer.

It’s over before you know it. When Rollo finally pulls away, you instinctively follow, chasing him. It’s only when Rollo lightly pushes you back that you peek your eyes open.

In the swirling forest of his eyes, you see amusement, adoration, and most importantly, gratitude.

Not a word is spoken when Rollo falls back into your arms, and you are there to welcome him, as you always have.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #disney twst #twst x reader #disney twst x reader #x reader #y/n #twst rollo #rollo flamme #rollo flamm #rollo #roro flamme #twst rollo x reader #rollo flamme x reader #rollo flamm x reader #reader insert #oneshot #archives 🏵️

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gasolinerainbowpuddles · 6 months

Text

Two Hands To Hold ║ ⓛⓘⓜⓘⓣⓔⓓ ⓢⓔⓡⓘⓔⓢ

║TWO HANDS TO HOLD: a Liquid Gold prequel || main masterlist ║

| PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x fem!reader x Tommy Miller

| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT: 9.2k | CONTENT: backstory for LIQUID GOLD aka how reader ended up with both Miller brothers, lots of plot sandwiched between smut, inexperienced virgin learns stuff, established relationship vibes, Joel is a slut, Tommy is a softboi slut menace, infidelity, degradation, praise kink like whoa, exhibitionism, lots of cum, cum is everywhere, for the love of god why is there so much cum in this fic

| SYNOPSIS: When wanting something means risking everything, how much are you willing to take the hands of two brothers and let them lead the way?

The mixture of what was supposed to be dinner had probably scalded to the bottom of the pot by this point. You might’ve cared more if you were further into your recipe, but you hadn’t added any of the scarcer ingredients yet so it wasn’t too wasteful.

You should’ve known that running upstairs for a quick second to grab a sweater wasn’t going to be quick at all since Joel was home. He’s fresh out of the shower with a towel slung low around his waist. You warn him you have to get back downstairs before dinner burns, but you both know there’s no conviction in your tone. You don’t really care too much about dinner when Joel’s mouth is on your neck and his hands are groping at your backside.

“I can do quick,” he murmurs. “Problem is you never like it when Daddy doesn’t take his time with that needy little pussy of yours.”

You groan and arch into him, incapable of producing any argument to his charge. You could never get enough of him, and he liked it that way. Your appetite for pleasure was equally matched by his, and you found yourself more often than not stuffed to the brim with his fingers or his cock. He makes quick work of your clothes, ignoring your weak grumbling that this was only going to make you even colder than when you first came upstairs to get a sweater.

You forget all about the chill when he’s got you on all fours and is burying himself into you. You shiver when a rush of cool air gusts through the window you hadn’t realized was open.

“Joel!” you hiss. “The fucking window is open!”

“Mmmm, suddenly afraid somebody’s gonna hear you screamin’ for this cock?” he taunts. “Like they ain’t heard it a million times before with how loud you get?”

Your walls flutter around him at the idea of being heard or seen by someone when he’s fucking you so hard it punches the air from your lungs when he bottoms out. Joel of course notices.

“Oh, you like that, huh? Like the thought of somebody seein’ you be such a good hole for me?” he grunts, pulling your back flush against his chest. He drives himself even harder into you as you cry out.

“Ohmygod,” you rasp as his tip slams into the deepest parts of you.

“Bet you’d let me pull anybody from the street just to have ‘em watch you take this cock,” he grunts.

Your body gives your feelings away yet again when a crackled, needy moan slithers up your throat.

“Yeah, bet you’d want ‘em to do more than watch, huh?” he pants. “Bet you’d want to take their cock too after I’m done usin’ you up.”

“Fuck!” you whine, getting closer to coming just thinking about somebody else taking from your body after Joel has finished splitting you on his cock.

Joel laughs, dark and low. “Learnin’ somethin’ about you, honey. Didn’t know you were that type’a girl. Wantin’ all of Daddy’s friends to use your holes, huh?”

Your climax grips at the base of your spine and explodes into your lower belly. You let out a wail of pleasure as Joel thrusts harder, fucking you through your high while he chases his own. He empties into you with three forceful drives and slumps on top of you where you’d crumpled into the bed below.

You barely manage a sigh as he pulls out. You stay like that while you hear him head downstairs, probably to turn off the burned dinner before it starts a house fire. Your head gets fuzzier and your lids get heavier as you listen to him walk back upstairs and get dressed.

A gentle press of lips against your temple rouses you. It’s much darker outside than it had been just a moment ago. The open window has been closed, and the inky sky outside looks like a framed postcard.

“I know it’s always a good one when you pass out right after,” he chuckles, peppering soft kisses to your temple and scalp.

“Dammit, didn’t mean to fall asleep,” you grumble in a slur. You push yourself up from the bed and roll over. Your brow pulls when your hand grazes past the fabric of panties. “When did—”

“Slid ‘em on you so you keep me inside,” he grins. “Now get dressed so we can get goin’. Gonna see to somethin’ tonight.”

“We’re going somewhere?” you mumble, still trying to orient yourself from the haze of sleep.

Joel nods and gestures to the pile of clothes he divested you of earlier. “Go on now, and don’t let any of my cum outta ya.”

You grin back at him and scoot to the edge of the bed. “I take it dinner burned?”

He laughs and confirms it was “probably easier to just toss the whole pot at this point” than try to scrub the burnt bits off.

You lean in for a kiss before dressing yourself. He watches you as he has the tendency to do. You straighten your shirt and hair before announcing that you were ready to head out. You bite back a smile at the feeling of your weeping cunt spilling out what Joel had filled you with earlier with each step you take towards Main Street. When he gives you a knowing nudge and smirk, you knock your hip against him playfully.

“You know I like how it feels,” you huff with empty indignation.

Joel breaks into a real smile at your raw honesty. “And you know I like you walkin’ around with me drippin’ outta you.”

It hadn’t always been this way. You hadn’t always felt more comfortable with exploring or even acknowledging your wants and needs. Your entire life had mostly been listening to and following others so you wouldn’t die. You remember bits and pieces from Outbreak Day in complete clarity, but you mostly remember how you felt: scared, abandoned, and burdensome. And that was before everything concerning the infection had even happened.

It was your birthday. You sat on the front porch for hours even though deep down you knew she wasn’t going to show. When your grandmother finally made you come inside so the neighbors wouldn’t see and start getting nosy, you couldn’t even find it in yourself to cry.

It was another year that your mom had missed your birthday – or any day that remotely mattered to you or celebrated you in any way. You’d known it wasn’t going to happen. It’s probably why your stomach had felt funny and clenched hard with nerves to the point that you’d thrown up a few times first thing that morning.

Your grandmother wasn’t too happy about it. She’d had to call out of work and was clearly frustrated and stressed about missing her shift. It always seemed like anything to do with you was always upsetting to your grandparents. Years later you understood a bit better why becoming the sole guardians to their teenage daughter’s baby at the age of 39 wasn’t exactly the future they’d hoped or planned for.

Your mom’s “troubled years” as they’d put it had turned out to be more extensive and consequential than they realized at the time. At a certain point, there’s no going back and fixing it. Giving birth to a baby girl at 17 and then disappearing altogether before she’d turned 18, your mom didn’t want to take on the responsibility of you. No one really seemed to want the responsibility of you.

So, you tried your best to listen. You tried your best to follow the rules. You had your mother’s reputation and history hanging over your head like a black cloud, and your grandparents were constantly reminding you of all the things you shouldn’t be - all the things your mom was. Irresponsible, promiscuous, attention-seeking, shameful, demanding, difficult…..

Your grandmother in particular seemed to believe that if they had attended church more regularly as a family, maybe your mom would’ve turned out “a better girl.” Your grandfather only went on holidays to make your grandmother happy, but he never disagreed that your mom could’ve used something to make her more obedient with better morals and fewer sinful indulgences.

You went to church a lot with your grandmother - any Sunday morning she wasn’t working - and you wondered if you would ever satisfy the debt of being the corporeal amalgamation of all your mother’s faults. A daily reminder of failed virtues and someone who had lost their way. You could do all the good in the world, but you would still be the product of failure and immorality.

And yet, every child wishes for their parents to notice them, to care about them. No one knew your father’s identity - including your mother - but he had to exist out there, somewhere. Sometimes you let yourself imagine that he never even knew there was a potential child of his out there in the world and maybe that’s why he’d never reached out or tried to be a part of your life.

Your mother was sick a lot, at least that’s what your grandparents told you. “She’s not well right now enough to see you” was something you’d heard many times. Whenever you asked what kind of sick she was, they didn’t ever have a clear answer. You’d thought that maybe if you knew what kind of sick she was, you could all figure out a medicine for her or do something to help her get better. When you’d suggested as much to your grandfather, he gave you a hard frown and sad eyes.

“Listen, why don’t you go watch something on the TV, huh?” your grandmother suggested when you obeyed her instruction to leave the porch and come inside.

“Can’t I sit at the window?” you politely asked. “I’ll keep behind the curtains so the neighbors don’t see.”

She gave you one of those sad, resigned looks you recognized more often the older you got. Now on your 7th birthday, you’d gotten pretty good at spotting them even if you didn’t always know why they looked at you that way.

“She’s not coming, doll baby,” your grandmother sighed. “I’m sorry. I know she said on the phone last week she was gonna come stay for a few days, but I don’t think that’s gonna happen.”

You pressed your lips together tight and nodded. No use in making a big deal out of it and stressing your grandmother out more than she was for having to miss work on account of you having tummy troubles. You watched the TV for a while – more like stared unfocused at it as it flashed scenes in front of you – and couldn’t help but hope every time the phone rang that it was your mom calling to apologize for running late and explain that she was still coming.

The phone was ringing more and more as the day went on, and your grandmother seemed more unsettled after each conversation. Lunchtime came and went, but you settled for an apple from the counter so you didn’t bother your grandmother for a proper lunch. At some point she shooed you away to your room to play so she could watch something “not for kids” on the TV. The deep voice from the TV seemed to become more frenzied as the day went on, too.

Your grandfather came home early, but it hadn’t anything to do with celebrating your birthday. You were instructed by them to eat dinner from whatever you wanted in the pantry, and it wasn’t too bad of a birthday present. You hadn’t received one yet today, so you felt safe to assume a free pass at whatever you wanted from the junk food was your present. You’d wished your stomach wasn’t so tight with worry so you could actually eat something. They sent you to bed early, too distracted with whatever was happening to realize you hadn’t eaten.

You woke up hungry and quietly got up from bed to check the clock in the kitchen to see if it was still your birthday and maybe try to sneak an apple. Your grandparents were in the living room in front of the static screened TV, sharing hushed whispers as you tried to make out their conversation from the hallway. You couldn’t take it anymore and made your presence known. You might get in trouble for interrupting them, but you had to know if something bad had happened to your mom and if that’s why they seemed so upset.

They exchanged a heavy look. You can still see it in your mind’s eye to this day. Even as a child you knew it was something devastating even though you couldn’t yet understand it was the moment they both stopped to realize they didn’t know where their daughter was, if she was safe, and, at the rate horrible things were transpiring with the mystery infection, they probably weren’t ever going to see her again.

All three of you slept in the basement for a few days, starting the night of your birthday. You kept quiet and didn’t even complain about the only food down there being nut packs and expired dinner crackers. You were too afraid to ask why you couldn’t leave the basement. You were too afraid to ask if your mom was okay. You were too afraid to ask if your grandparents were upset with you and why.

When the uniformed men came and swept the house for inhabitants, you didn’t ask questions. You didn’t say you needed to use the bathroom. You didn’t argue when they instructed you to sit on the floor of the large black vehicle.

Over the years in the QZ, you never dropped your habit of keeping out of the way and doing what you were supposed to do. Over the years in the QZ, your grandparents never dropped their habit of drilling it into your head that you were to follow the rules and not “attract any unwanted attention” to yourself.

When the son of a high-up QZ FEDRA officer took a liking to you, it sent you into a panic. It scared you to like him back. He was sort of nice and smiled at you sometimes. You felt shame gnawing at you when you dreamed about him being your first kiss. You woke up horrified that even if your conscious mind knew better than to entertain indecent thoughts about boys, your unconscious mind was determined to make you a morally bankrupt person, just like your mother. You didn’t know what to do other than to avoid him at all costs.

He caught on that you were giving him the cold shoulder, and suddenly the smiles and friendliness turned into scowls and rude comments under his breath about you being a “stuck up bitch.” You wanted to tell your grandparents, but that would mean admitting to having bad thoughts about a boy. They didn’t need that stress.

When your grandfather got reassigned to a heavy labor, lower paying job by direct order from FEDRA higher ups, he was at a complete loss as to what he’d done or who he’d pissed off. You kept your shameful secret to yourself - that you and your uncontrollable want had been the reason for his punishment. You watched your grandfather get weaker and age more rapidly, thanks to his demanding work.

He’d finally had enough, and that’s when you all fled in the QZ under the cover of darkness. Yet again something bad that was a direct result of your innate impurity. You kept your shameful secret and kept quiet. You were warned endlessly by them both to not wear anything fitted, to keep your hat on, and to not speak.

“If anyone knew we had a teenage girl with us, we’d be the target for some bad things,” they’d explained plainly. Your femininity, your body, the pleasure others could derive from your body. All a liability.

You bounced around from place to place. Your grandfather’s health got worse. He passed that first winter. Your grandmother was never the same once he died. You still think it was a broken heart that ultimately killed her.

A single thread of your want had stitched this tapestry of misery and death. When you were accosted by Jackson’s patrol as you were trying to form a makeshift camp in the powerplant building next to the dam, you sort of wished the dogs would just tear you to pieces right then and there.

Instead, your work ethic and cooperative attitude landed you with a permanent residency in the Jackson settlement. You never turned down requests for hard labor or jobs other people didn’t want. You always said yes. You never made requests or developed preferences. Everyone praised your agreeable, undemanding personality. You were too afraid to want, so you didn’t. That is, until Joel Miller showed up.

He commanded your attention from the moment you laid eyes on him. It scared you how much you yearned to know him. How much hearing his voice settled something knotted in the depths of your chest. How much you worried about him when he left for patrol after you memorized his schedule. How much seeing him easy around his also incredibly handsome brother Tommy made your heart drip like acid into your stomach.

You watched him endlessly from the kitchen in the cafeteria where you’d ended up working most regularly. You had a knack for cooking, it turns out, and the early and odd hours never bothered you. You knew what foods he liked best after noticing what he ate most of. You began to pick up on all his little physical quirks.

It was a one-sided obsession, something that could never be indulged. It was bad enough wanting something. You knew that wanting something meant risking everything. It wasn’t safe to want. And yet, you couldn’t stop yourself; however, going after that want was a line you weren’t going to cross.

Fortunately for you, Joel didn’t have the same sort of hang-ups you did. Your hand shook as you scooped all his preferred foods onto his plate without direction.

“You gonna ask me if that’s what I want?”

It was the first thing he’d ever said directly to you. Your eyes went wide when you realized you’d been in such a rush to give him all his favorites so he could sit down to a nice meal that you hadn’t even stopped to ask him what he wanted. You already knew what he wanted, but now you’d outed yourself to him.

“I-I can get you something–something different. I’m sorry,” you offered, completely flustered.

He shook his head and gave a lopsided grin. You felt like you could throw up at any moment. “Never said it wasn’t what I wanted. I was just wonderin’ if you were gonna ask me or if I was just s’posed to take what ya gave me,” he drawled in a lazy, amused voice.

Your face was on fire as you stood frozen to the spot. When you didn’t answer, he chuckled low to himself and shook his head.

“M’just teasin’ you, honey,” he exhaled in a laugh.

You felt ready to combust at his easy talk and effortless magnetism. You couldn’t make your tongue move to speak.

“Unless of course you don’t want me to be teasin’. Maybe you wanna trade places and instead of askin’ you what ya want you can just see what I’ve got to give ya,” he murmured, leaning closer to speak lower.

You dropped the serving spoon straight into the food, turned on your heel, and scurried like a frightened animal back into the kitchens. You tried to catch your breath as you leaned against the wall, but the throbbing between your legs was overwhelming.

One of the other workers came back to check on you, and you managed to explain you needed to go. You’d completely embarrassed yourself in front of Joel, and you needed to get back to the privacy of your boarding house room to wallow in your humiliation.

You’d made it not even a third of the way home when he called after you. Once again, you froze in place. His voice, his commands, whipped you into some sort of dazed stillness. He approached with his hands up in a gesture of good faith.

“Hey now, m’sorry if I misread the signals back there,” he offered up quickly. “I couldn’t take much more of you starin’ at me every meal and thought you were waitin’ for me to make the first move, is all.”

Your jaw felt slack, a contrast to your rigid frame. He took a few steps closer to you when you didn’t appear to consider bolting away from him again.

“If I came on too strong or misread somethin’, I apologize, okay? M’not tryna make you uncomfortable, so m’sorry if I did.”

You shook your head again, trying to rattle some combination of words together instead of standing there like an idiot. When he started up with more apologies even though he’d done nothing wrong, you said the first thing that came to mind.

“You didn’t eat,” you blurted out.

His head inched back in surprise at the unexpected reply. He laughed a bit in confusion and ran a hand through his hair like he wasn’t quite sure how he was supposed to respond to that. The throbbing in between your legs was making a strong return.

“Yeah, I’ll be alright. I’ve put up with worse than a missed meal,” he finally responded. “Look, lemme walk ya home and smooth this whole thing over, yeah?”

You nodded and took the first few clumsy steps of what would end up being the most life-altering walk you’d ever taken. When you made it to your doorstep, you’d promised him you would ask next time. Your heart stuttered when he countered that he was “just fine takin’ what you’re willin’ to give him.” A silly, loose grin crept across the line of your mouth.

The next few weeks you started requesting menu changes so that Joel’s favorites were always served on days he had patrol. It felt like something you could give him, something he would want. When he asked you to take your break and dine with him, you said yes. It was something you could give him, something he wanted. When he started walking you home from work on a regular basis, he asked all sorts of questions about your life, and the truth of it all came too easy from your lips. It was something you could give him, something he wanted.

He never made a negative comment, shared a judgemental observation, or seemed to care about any bad parts of you. He eventually started sharing parts of his life, too, and for once you felt like maybe everyone made mistakes and it wasn’t just you who was a singular point of disappointment and wrongdoing. When he started to hold your hand on the walks home, you held his back all the more tightly. It wasn’t even something you had to consider.

It didn’t take you long to realize that if Joel wanted something from you, he could have it.

But when he asked one night if you wanted him to kiss you, you froze up again. There it was. The trap of wanting. You wanted him. You wanted him to have all of you. You wanted to be everything and anything for him. You never allowed yourself to linger on what you wanted from him. He assumed you were nervous because you’d never been kissed. When he said he wanted you to be honest with him, you told him everything.

“Tell ya what,” he said softly. “I’m gonna kiss you, and you’re gonna tell me if it feels wrong to want it after I’m done.”

You agreed. And then his lips were on you, so gentle and warm, and you never wanted it to stop. It ignited something in you that scorched through your veins. Joel was your first everything. He taught you to say no. He made you use your words. He met each new desire of yours with feverish enthusiasm. He never dulled your light, only ever made it swell and burn hotter and brighter.

You came to understand that there was nothing wrong with wanting. There was nothing wrong with desiring. It didn’t matter what lewd or obscene fantasy you expressed to him, he always welcomed it and made it come alive. Being an object of his desire wasn’t a shameful thing. Wanting him to have his way with you didn’t make you any less virtuous. Expressing your needs and chasing them with abandon wasn’t harmful or wrong. Liking it when he got rough and grunted the dirtiest things into your ear didn’t make you undeserving of tenderness and care.

You hated to think of all the years you wasted on being ashamed for simply existing, for having the sort of cravings and urges that humankind has always had. To be loved. To be accepted for who you are. To get lost in someone else. To make your body feel good. To make your mind feel good.

It never felt wrong, not with Joel.

So when you make it to the Tipsy Bison with his cum dripping out of you and starting to dry between your thighs as it soaks through your panties, it feels right. Instead of a rush of shame coursing through you, you feel a flood of arousal and anticipation when he says he’s gonna see to it that you get to show him how much of a slut you want to be. Your breath hitches when he instructs you to go to the bathroom, lock the door, and wait for three knocks.

“I’m gonna send somebody in there with you, and you’re gonna let him inside that locked bathroom with you so that you can suck him off, you understand?” he growls low in your ear.

You pull back, wide-eyed with nerves and excitement. Joel smirks and drags the side of your face next to his mouth so you can hear him. “Only ever had my cock, and you wanna get greedy for more. So you’re gonna shove somebody else’s cock into your mouth since you wanna get used so bad.”

“Fuck,” you whimper to yourself. You’d still be drenched from this exchange alone even without Joel’s spend leaking out of you.

“Go on. I wanna see if my girl is as greedy a slut as I think she is,” he hums into your ear before giving your earlobe a quick nibble.

You practically hobble to the bathroom, trying to focus on walking in a straight line. Hopefully the other patrons think you’re drunk instead of just keyed up from the thought of being used. You don’t know who will be knocking, but you don’t feel unsafe in the slightest. Joel would never put you in a bad position. He wouldn’t push you for something if you weren’t ready.

Your heart is pounding in your ears as you wait inside one of the three single use bathrooms. You try to think of who it’ll be that Joel sends. You go through all of the possibilities in your head and can’t seem to decide who Joel would trust alone with you.

Your nerves start to get the better of you when you realize you’re really doing this. The self-doubt creeps in. What if you only thought this was what you wanted but in reality can’t perform? What if he doesn’t enjoy it? You’ve only ever been with Joel, and you know different partners must have their own preferences.

A fleeting thought to leave the bathroom and tell Joel this was all just a big mistake crosses your mind. You don’t want to embarrass yourself, and, worse, you don’t want to embarrass Joel. Maybe it was best if you just put this off until some other time. Joel might be disappointed, but you’d prefer that over making him look foolish.

Just as you're wrestling with your nerves, three knocks sound on through the other side of the door. You hesitate for a moment but realize there’s no other way out but through the door. You have no choice either way to see who’s waiting on the other side.

You turn the lock and open the door, stepping back so that whoever your mystery man is can make his way in. You don’t register at first the owner of curly black hair and broad shoulders. Your heart plummets when you realize it’s Tommy.

“Oh. Oh my god. Um. I’m done in here, so you can… oh my god… okay…”

Your mind is firing off in a million different directions. What is Tommy going to think of his brother’s girl just letting anybody into the same locked bathroom as her? You scramble to make some excuse so he’s not suspicious, but you come up short. You’ve spent enough dinners at his house to know he can probably see straight through whatever lie you were about to shill.

“You gettin’ cold feet on me, sweetheart?” Tommy teases, flicking the lock closed before crossing his arms against his chest and leaning against the door.

“I–wait. What?” Your mouth drops open. Surely Joel didn’t… “You mean… but… what about…. He told you……” You were too bewildered with the situation to pick which question you wanted to ask first.

“You think my brother is gonna send just any loser in here with you?” he snorts. “C’mon now. He’s a dumb bastard every now and then, but he ain’t gonna send anybody he doesn’t trust 100% to be alone with ya.”

That aspect of it made complete sense to you, but you wouldn’t have ever considered Tommy because of–

“Maria? She’s-She’s here! I saw her earlier. You… Aren’t you…..?” you balk in a strained whisper.

“Yeah, she’s here. Her and a bunch of other people, too. So I guess that means you can’t be as loud as you like to be,” he needles with a cocky grin. “S’alright, I got somethin’ to keep your mouth occupied.” He flashes a devilish wink, and for a split second you forget all about your nerves.

“But-But what about… I’ve never…..”

You can hardly form a coherent thought. Joel sending Tommy made sense. You’d always found him attractive, and Joel knew that. He’d even teased you a few times about if you wanted to switch up which Miller brother you wanted to be with when he was being a pain in the ass. You didn’t think he’d ever act on it. Just like you never thought Tommy would step out of his marriage.

“But you love Maria,” you counter in a weak appeal.

“I do. So that means you must be somethin’ real special for me to have a wanderin’ eye. You ain’t comin’ home with me at the end of the night, but that don’t mean we can’t have somethin’ together in the meantime.”

You aren’t sure how you feel about doing something with a married man. It wasn’t you who made the vows, but it still felt wrong anyway. You try to weigh the heavy conundrum of whether or not this is something you’d be able to stomach after all is said and done.

“Hey now,” Tommy says softer, uncrossing his arms and reaching out for your hand. “Joel told me this was a surprise, but if it’s too much there ain’t no shame in walkin’ away. Nobody’ll be upset with ya, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

His hand was smaller than Joel’s but felt warmer, softer somehow. A gentle cradle for your own. It felt nice. Different, but nice. Your eyes fix on the point where his thumb runs small circuits along yours, and it gives you somewhere to train your focus enough to get a thought out straight.

“It’s not that,” you deny in a shy voice.

“So what is it? ‘Cause this was somethin’ meant to be fun for everybody, okay? I’m not here to make you uncomfortable, sweetheart.”

Your eyes flicker up to meet his. He sounds so much like Joel.

“You don’t make me uncomfortable,” you assert. “I just-it’s me. It’s nothing to do with you. I’m just– I wasn’t thinking when I said that stuff about having somebody else. I-I don’t even know what I’m doing except for with Joel. I don’t even have any-any other experience.”

Your face is on fire again, and you wish you could just shut up instead of hitting Tommy with all of these embarrassing, trivial confessions.

“So, what? You got performance anxiety or somethin’?” he laughs under his breath. “Ain’t rocket science, sweetheart. A warm mouth on a pretty girl is as good a place as any for a guy to wet his dick.”

You shake your head and look away. “I’m just gonna mess it up.”

Tommy’s other hand cups the back of your neck to tilt your head until you’re looking at him again. His face is tender but serious.

“You take good care of my brother, sweet girl. He’s the happiest I’ve seen him in god knows how long. It means a lot to me knowin’ he’s got somebody like you lookin’ after him. If you can get somebody like my brother in as good a place as he’s in, you ain’t the sorta fuck up you think you are. Nothin’ short of a miracle worker as far as I’m concerned,” he presses.

There’s not a hint of insincerity or exaggeration in his voice or face. The sentimentality catches you off guard. When your throat starts to feel hot and tight, an all new way to embarrass yourself emerges. You hastily sniff away your nerves and emotions and hope that Tommy doesn’t think less of you for it.

“Quit your cryin’ and c’mere,” he gently chides.

He hugs you against his body, wrapping both arms around you and cupping the back of your head with one of his hands as he captures your mouth in a soft kiss. He’s so gentle compared to Joel, so much more measured and rhythmic. Even early on in your physical relationship, there was always the electric undercurrent of something raw and hungry radiating from him. Tommy has a kinetic intimacy with every slip of his tongue and grip of his hand on your body.

You’re grabbing onto his collar desperately by the time he props you up on the sink and runs his mouth along the column of your neck, nipping and suckling in equal fervor and restraint. You swallow down the whines and whimpers he pulls all too easily from you.

“Make such pretty sounds,” Tommy rasps into your hair. “Gonna do this another time so I can hear ‘em loud as you wanna make ‘em.”

Your legs instinctively move together to soothe the building ache in your panties, but Tommy’s body keeps them parted.

“My sweet girl gettin’ hot ‘n bothered from a little neckin’?” he teases.

It’s pointless to lie since he clearly already knows how responsive you are to such little physical toying. You nod silently and chew your bottom lip.

“I like it, sweetheart. Like you a lot,” he professes in a calm consideration of you.

“I like you, too, Tommy,” you breathe. Your gaze travels down to the growing bulge in his crotch. You absentmindedly lick your lips.

“Got a nice mouth, too,” he muses. “Open up and lemme see it.”

Without hesitation, you slack your jaw and let your tongue drop. Your breath catches when Tommy runs his pointer and middle fingers together along it towards your throat. His eyes sear into the visual of feeding his fingers deeper into your mouth.

“See what we’re workin’ with here,” he says under his breath to himself. He inches along until his fingertips make your throat spasm. His eyes darken at the sound of it. He slowly draws them back out and breathes out a deep exhale.

“Sorry,” you apologize in a tiny voice. Heat pools in your lower belly.

“Nothin’ we can’t work on,” he husks, the corner of his lip twitching up.

His hands squeeze and rub downwards until he reaches your waistband, and you lift your hips when he starts tugging everything from your bottom half down. He yanks one side completely free from your leg, leaving your pants and panties hanging off the other thigh. He groans when he sees the thick, milky fluid dribbling from your hole.

“Been busy, I see,” he chuckles. He finally sets his focus to your face again after a gluttonous feast of your half naked form.

“I’m supposed to keep it inside,” you quietly explain.

Tommy nods and grins in approval. Something about him seeing the results of you and Joel’s earlier activities makes your pulse run thready.

“Looks like I got some catchin’ up to do,” he figures.

“But I’m supposed to—”

He lifts your shirt up, exposing your bare breasts and peaked nipples, and pays no mind to your call to get to what you’re meant to do inside the locked bathroom. Your body jerks when he rubs his thumbs across your nipples. You choke back and moan and focus on keeping quiet.

“You always so sensitive?” He chews his lip like he’s trying to keep from grinning too wide.

“N-No,” you lie. “I can be–sometimes I’m–” You shake your head, trying and failing to portray yourself as something other than an eager, all too easy to dismantle neophyte.

“Don’t hafta lie to me, sweetheart,” he’s quick to remind you. “I don’t want you to be what you think I want you to be. I want you to just be you. Understand?”

“Okay. Yes,” you concede. You know he’s not trying to call you out to embarrass you, but you still get an urge to hide away.

“M’serious. Joel doesn’t love you because you pretend to be somethin’ else for him. He loves you because you let him in and show him all of you.”

You draw in a shaky breath, nerves and want burning through you. Every time your thoughts start racing off in any given direction, Tommy pulls you back to the buzzing thrum of just being close to one another in the moment.

Joel tended to grab hold of you and wrap you up in a frenzy so fast that you didn’t have time to think too long on things that worried you. Tommy brought that clarity, too, except with a firm but tender guiding hand. Both left your mind quiet with nothing but the awareness of the space you shared with them.

“You gonna let me see it all, too?” he prods. He works your nipples between his thumb and pointer fingers, pinching and pulling when you don’t answer straight away.

“Yes,” you gasp.

“Good girl,” he praises. Your eyes flutter shut at his encouragement, awash in the warm feeling it blankets you in. He crowds you against the vanity mirror and continues working over you.

“Touch yourself,” he grunts. You comply immediately and moan at the almost instant pull of your orgasm that’s been building the longer Tommy has hedged his way into your inner workings.

“Bet you can come just like this,” he wagers in a strained focus. “Keep playin’ with yourself ‘til you come, sweetheart. Wanna see your pretty face when you give it to me.”

Your brow pinches, your jaw limp as you choke back all the sounds clawing up from your chest. He grabs at your nipples so hard you jolt forward, nose to nose as he stares you down, and the coil in your belly snaps. He clamps one hand over your mouth to stifle the cries of bliss erupting from you.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he goads. His eyes are dark with something deprived and ravenous. You grab at his wrist where his hand muffles your sounds, desperate to latch onto him, to be closer somehow.

“Fuck you’re pretty,” he breathes.

Without warning he hooks a hand under your bare knee and pulls you sideways until your back lays awkwardly against the sink and counter, your bare leg dangling off the edge. He directs you to wedge your legs open while he unbuckles his belt and frees his weeping cock from his jeans. He strokes himself hungrily and tells you to sit still.

Your breath heaves your chest up and down as you watch him run the tip of his length up your folds and notch himself at your entrance. It eases inside the tiniest bit, and a hungry moan rips from your chest.

“Shit!” Tommy hisses when he feels your walls clench around the tip of him, greedy and trying to pull him in further. “Gonna hafta to talk to Joel ‘bout lettin’ me get into this cunt.”

“Please please please,” you chant.

God, you hope Joel would let him. You hope he would be there and watch you get used by somebody else, pliant and yielding to whatever was being done to you.

Tommy slips the ridge of his tip slowly out of you. “Squeeze it out,” he pants.

He holds himself at the base of his cock, waiting for you to contract your muscles hard enough for Joel’s leftover cum to leak out onto his tip. You push a few times and feel the warm slip of it ease out of your hole.

“Give your mouth somethin’ it’s used to, to start,” he grunts. He holds his cock steady and brings it to your mouth. You gape your mouth open without any prompting. Tommy slides his cum covered cock past your lips and instructs you to clean it off. You work your tongue around his head and drink in Joel’s residual spend.

“Get it all, sweet girl. There you go. Give you somethin’ familiar before I get you acquainted with the next cock that’s gonna ruin you.” He laughs to himself when you moan at the promise of being used by him.

You open your mouth as wide as you can to show him you’ve satisfied his command. He smiles down at you with a soft reverence you’ve seen so many times from Joel. Your eyes go wide, waiting anxiously to do anything you can to make Tommy feel good.

“Gonna see if we can get you some practice on that throat, sweetheart,” he forewarns you. He gives himself a few languid strokes and searches your face for any of the hesitation from earlier.

“Can you come in my mouth?” you urge in a sweet, meek voice that contradicts the crude request you’re making.

Tommy groans and shoves his length into your mouth again. He holds onto the back of your head and tilts it in a bobbing motion onto his cock. He wasn’t as thick to take as Joel, but he had a curve to his that presented its own challenge to swallow down fluidly. He drives far enough that you start to choke and gag, which only sends renewed arousal between your thighs.

“C’mere,” he growls. He scoops you up from the counter and plants your feet onto the ground. You scramble to your knees, ignoring the cold sting of the tile against your bare knee. You grab at Tommy’s thighs and move your mouth against his crotch. You lick and suck at his balls and the underside of his length. You’re overwhelmed with the urge to please please please. There’s a compulsion to give yourself over to Tommy and let yourself get lost in the gratification of gifting him a flurry of euphoria.

He claws at the crown of your head for you to take him into your mouth again. You oblige and try to swallow him down as far as you can. He groans above you, sounding closer to his own release the more you work him. You’re glad to have him filling your mouth enough that you don’t have to put as much effort into being quiet. The slippery dregs of your squelching saliva gather on your lips and chin.

Tommy pulls you off of him, panting and grinning wildly at you with a sort of worshiping awe. You can only imagine how much of a slobbery, disheveled state you’re in.

“Makin’ a mess,” he pants in a laugh. He cups his fingers against your face and scoops your spit back into your mouth. “I think you like makin’ a mess.”

He laughs when you eagerly nod up at him. “Can’t send you out too sloppy this time around, sweetheart, but next time I’m gonna make sure you’re a fuckin’ wreck.”

Your face lights up at the promise that this won’t be the last time you get to have him like this.

“S’alright. We can get a little messy before I fuck my cum into your mouth.” He crouches down and inserts two fingers into you. Your entire body clenches at the abrupt intrusion. You can feel him curve his fingers inside you and drag them down and out.

“Empty your mouth,” he instructs as he stands straight again. You swallow all of your spit down until your mouth isn’t so coated in fluids. Tommy takes the fingers he’d just plunged into your pussy and scrapes them against your tongue and teeth. You taste Joel’s cum as it accumulates.

“Don’t swallow it. Wanna see you give me a little show, sweetheart. Blow some bubbles with it,” he taunts.

You smear as much of it as you can against your lips, coating the inner ring of them, and prop them open in an oval shape before gently pushing air out. A milky, translucent orb swells with your breath. It pops and splatters a bit on your face. You form another one and don’t move your eyes away from Tommy, who is watching you with rapt lechery as you blow cum bubbles with his brother’s hours-old spend.

“Damn, you’ll really do anythin’, huh?” he mocks. You catch the excited, voracious approval laced in the derisive comment.

“Not for everybody,” you reply pointedly in as clear of a voice as you can with your mouth still holding onto Joel’s cum until Tommy tells you to swallow it. Tommy must know you weren’t this malleable and willing with anyone other than Joel, and now him. Right?

His face softens a bit. He runs a finger across the curve of your cheek. “No, I suppose not,” he agrees. “Suppose I’d better take advantage of bein’ one of the only two who get to have ya like this, huh?”

Your lips curve upward. “Can I swallow him so I can have you now?” you ask with big, fluttery doe eyes.

Tommy starts jerking himself hard and fast and tells you to swallow. You empty the contents of your mouth down your throat and snap it back open for him to fill.

“You’re gonna wrap those pretty lips ‘round my cock, and when I fill that mouth you better not let a single fuckin’ drop slip out,” he instructs, suddenly stern and focused.

You vacuum your lips around him and look up with pleading eyes. He strokes himself hard, breathing heavier and faster, until he lets out a pained groan and starts shooting hot ropes of cum into your mouth. You push away the involuntary reflex to swallow as your mouth starts to fill up. You gag a few times when a sharp burst pummels the back of your throat, but you don’t dare swallow.

Tommy hisses a string of curses as he empties himself. He shakes his cock against the seal of your lips to signal he’s taking it out. You pucker and clamp down your lips, ensuring your mouth closes behind his red, swollen tip. He tucks himself back into his jeans and fastens them.

“Goddamn,” he huffs. He shakes his head with a lopsided grin as if he’s disoriented. As if it was you that had whipped him into a sensual frenzy instead of the other way around.

He helps you to stand and chuckles at your shaky legs. He props you against the counter and stoops down to get your panties and bottoms back to their original place. Your cheeks bulge slightly with the fill of him in your mouth. You wish you could speak, but there’s also something calming and comforting about the shared quiet between the two of you.

He grabs the bottom of his shirt and wipes your face with the inside of it, making you a bit more presentable before you exit the bathroom. He pats down your hair, something so tender and domestic against the backdrop of debauchery you’d just engaged in.

“Beautiful,” he grins. His eyes crinkle when his smile grows wide enough, and he looks so much like Joel in that moment you want to grab him up and not let him go.

“Now what you’re gonna do, sweetheart, is you’re gonna keep your mouth full until you can show Joel what a good job you did, alright?” he explains.

Your cheeks burn at the praise and at the thought of Joel inspecting all of Tommy’s cum coating your mouth. For reasons you can’t quite explain, it gives you a rush of excitement knowing you’ve been the receptacle for their unhinged desires, all within the span of a few hours.

“And you best hurry to where he’s sittin’ unless you catch somebody tryna start a conversation with ya. Can’t talk when your mouth is full of cum, huh? ‘Course knowin’ what kinda slut you are, I bet you’d like for ‘em to see it runnin’ down your chin and onto those nice tits of yours.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to push down the new wave of arousal hitting you. If you lose focus, you might accidentally swallow.

“But you’re gonna keep it in there ‘til Joel can see it, aren’t ya?” he probes.

When you keep your eyes shut in concentration, he nudges your leg aside with his knee and lands a swat over your clothed clit. Your eyes tear open, and you practically gurgle scream a moan. You nod hastily in agreement, although part of you wants him to do that again.

“Damn, is there anythin’ you don’t like done to ya?” he sneers. He rubs a gentle palm over the crotch of your pants and drinks in the shaky sigh of pleasure that leaves your lungs. He brushes his nose against yours and closes his eyes.

“Pretty thing,” he murmurs. You can feel the whisps of his eyelashes flit against your skin. You’re anchored to the spot, captive to the serene hold of him against your body.

He peppers a few kisses along your cheek as he makes his way to your ear. “When y’all come over for dinner on Friday, I want you to leave your panties at home, you hear me?”

You whimper at the thought. He breathes a chuckle against the shell of your ear. “Joel might like ya to keep ‘em on, but I want you to take ‘em off for me. Can you do that? Can you leave those panties at home for me on Friday night?” he rasps.

Your hands snake up his arm and shoulder until your fingers tangle in the curls of hair along the nape of his neck. You gently nod. “Good girl,” he says and gives you one last press of his lips against your forehead. “Now get goin’.” He jerks his head towards the door, and you shuffle obediently out of the bathroom.

The Tipsy Bison is business as usual, and it seems strange that all of this was carrying on and didn’t somehow come to a complete standstill while you and Tommy wrenched each other apart and devoured the raw insides you found there. You’re in a bit of a haze as you wander towards where you last saw Joel. You take a moment to register the figure of someone who’s stepped in front of you, blocking your path forward. Your stomach lurches. It’s Maria, because of course it is.

Your mind wars with the guilt of her sudden appearance and the thrill of having Tommy pooled in your mouth.

“Have you seen Tommy? He said he was going to the bar, but I haven’t seen him,” she says loudly over the chatter.

You almost open your mouth to answer, in such a fluster you nearly forgot the fact that you can’t speak to her when your mouth is filled with her husband’s cum. Instead you clumsily shrug and motion like someone is hailing you over to them. You don’t stop for her to react to your odd behavior and instead make a beeline for Joel.

He sees you and relaxes into a smug grin. You practically fall into his lap as you sit beside him. He raises an eyebrow at your rushed, graceless movements but stills when he notices the tight clench of your jaw. You bore your eyes into his as you gently open your mouth enough for him to see inside, tilting your head back slightly so he can appreciate your commitment to your task.

His eyes flick down and darken as he scans your filled mouth. He rests a hand over his crotch and swallows hard. Your eyes flit back and forth in a silent request to swallow. He wraps a hand around the front of your neck and leans in.

“You swallow when I give a little squeeze,” he instructs before pulling back to watch you.

He presses down gently on your throat, and you can feel the muscles contract against his hand as you swallow. A deep groan reverberates from his chest at the feeling. You lean forward and divulge every sordid detail in a hushed whisper. His hand leaves your neck and grips the top of your thigh. He lets you finish recalling and recounting it all for him.

He’s suddenly scooting you over and up to stand. You’re out the door of the Tipsy Bison faster than you can discern what’s happening.

“What’re–”

“Been a bad girl,” he tuts. His arm around your back sets the fast gait home.

“But you—” you start to sputter.

“Lettin’ him empty me outta that cunt? After I told you to keep it in there?” he elaborates. He looks down at you with a wicked grin. “Gonna have to get you home and fix that right away, honey.”

You breathe a relieved laugh that he wasn’t somehow upset with the turn of events now that it had actually happened. No, this was your Joel, teasing you and keeping you on your toes.

“What do you mean, Daddy?” you ask in a flirty, coy voice.

“Know goddamn well what I mean. Gonna fuck you ‘n fill you up again, like you should be.” He gives you a playful wink that makes your chest tight with emotion.

You feel certain that this revolving door of affection and attention from the Miller brothers was something you could definitely get used to.

Brain Goblin went wild with this one. I had thought a lot about what happened after Liquid Gold, but it wasn't until recently that I got a really clear vision of what took place before, how it all came to be.

I hope the insight to her past gives context to what makes this slutty throuple so sweet and special.

As always, thank you for reading!

Art in graphic is a transformed work by artist Thomas Francis Dicksee.

catch ya later, ♥Puddles♥

#fic: Two Hands To Hold #joel miller x reader #tommy miller x reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #joel miller #fic: liquid gold

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sunnys-out · 6 months

Text

Dance the Night | Lucy Bronze

A/N: Based on this request. Please enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Also, I am actually going to have a FaceTime date with my own Northern English, defender this Sunday so wish me luck :)

Also, I imagine that these are the types of dance covers that you would post on Tik Tok btw.

Word count: 2823

Warnings: Suggestive themes/statements

Baby, you can find me under the lights

Diamonds under my eyes

Turn the rhythm up, don't you wanna just

Come along for the ride?

Oh, my outfit is so tight

You can see my heartbeat tonight

I can take the heat, baby, best believe

That's the moment I shine

Lucy and I had the shared experience of playing in an American university. The only difference was that UC Berkeley was my home for my time there.

One of the things that I did during my four years at Cal that made them special and even was something that people loved learning about me was that I was also a part of a dance group whilst playing football. When I was in America, I found that dance was a good way to maintain my cardio and it was a fun way to keep my mind off of football for a bit. I used to do ballet as a kid and did some hip-hop dancing as I grew older so it was not something too out of the ordinary.

Even though football was my true calling, that did not stop me from dancing in the locker rooms before games, and posting little dance covers on Tik Tok during camps at the behest of Mary Earps. The only reason that the fans got wind of the fact that I’m that teammate constantly dancing was because of Lucy, who was filming one time before we played in a friendly against Germany and posting it on Instagram. She says that I didn’t pull her immediately that day but I know Lucy and I saw the way she watched me behind the phone as I danced to Work Out by J. Cole.

During the Euros, it became a thing, I guess, for the main Lionesses Instagram to post my pregame dances in the locker room. One of those I ended up teaching Miss Lucy Bronze how to slow dance which turned into a faster dance much to Lucy’s dismay. Lucy twirling me into a hold was the focal point of the video and I get why this one became a fan favorite and material for loads of couple edits of us.

The caption of said post, “@bbcstrictly @y/n is waiting for her call-up! 👀”

Of course I commented, “@y/n: @bbcstrictly ok but actually I would be down, I love love love the show 💃🙏”

Post win at the Euros, I was getting a call from the producers of Strictly Come Dancing to perform a one-time, special dance. They said that it was some kind of honoring fit for a new European champion.

I worked it out with my management that it would definitely be something that I could do after the World Cup since that was my next objective after a successful Euros run.

During the off time in the World Cup, I found myself talking to the producers as they had ideas of the performance and the choreography that would go with it. So, sometimes I would have to deny a walk with Lucy to figure out some logistics. I was met with a small but still visible pout from Lucy as she only nodded and would call up Jordan to take my place.

My attention was monopolized once we finalized what song and choreography we were aiming for and of course my new dance partner. I didn’t really know the guy but apparently he was on a reality show and all the girls were after him. The only taste of reality shows that I had was occasionally watching Love Island over Rachel and Millie’s shoulders on bus rides to games. I did not understand at all what went on but the drama was entertaining from what I saw.

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“So, you’re not going to tell me the name of the song you will be dancing to?” Lucy said as she remained sitting on the hotel bed as she watched me change into something nicer than the training set I had been in all day. Eyes trained on me the whole time.

“Nope, it’s a surprise, baby. Sworn to secrecy anyways” I said as I got ready for our walk.

Lucy frowned as she started scratching her neck “well at least show me who you are going to be dancing with, like what if it’s a weirdo you know?”

I comply and give her my phone after I look up the name of the guy they had paired me up with.

“Not too bad looking right?” I tease, as I put on some dunks and ask for my phone back.

Lucy raised an eyebrow and laughed a little, “I know I can’t dance like you but ya think it’s too late to ask if I could be your dance partner?”

Now it was my turn to laugh, “don’t be jealous baby, now let’s get going there is a cafe with a chocolate pastry I wanted to try!”

I pulled her up ignoring the small pout and muttering “ ‘m not jealous” as I gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and dragged her out of the door.

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After our loss at the World Cup final and a lot of tearful goodbyes to the other girls, Lucy and I made our way back to Barcelona and just took some time to decompress.

One of Lucy’s favorite things to wake up to was seeing me in the kitchen making myself breakfast, dancing in silence with my airpods in my ears without a care in the world.

This particular Saturday morning, however, she was confused because instead of a loose, messy bun, my hair was brushed and down.

Instead of one of my old, English training shirts, I was in a lilac crop top and denim shorts that showed off my legs and not my old PSG shorts.

As she got closer, the smell of her favorite perfume on me hit her nose, suddenly Lucy stood there wondering what day it was and did she fuck up and forgot some anniversary.

As I turned to go to our fridge to pull out the water pitcher, I caught sight of Lucy just standing by the kitchen island.

“Baby, you know it’s rude to stare” I tease and followed up with a quick kiss on her cheek “Good Morning, sleepy head”

Lucy remained silent for a beat before going, “Why are you all dressed up on a Saturday morning?...Did I forget something?”

She rubbed her eyes, lifting her clear glasses as she did so.

“Nope, our anniversary is still Bastille day, uh my birthday hasn’t changed and yours is still in October” I listed them off on my fingers and then continued as if I didn’t leave Lucy even more confused as I began cleaning the counter.

A pair of arms wrapped around me stopping me in my tracks as Lucy burrowed her head into my neck taking in the perfume I wore.

“Then will Miss L/N tell me where she is going dressed like this, hm?” She mumbled as she placed a chaste kiss on my neck.

“Going to get lunch with…ugh what was his name? The one I'm going to be dancing with for Strictly Dancing, baby” I say, nonchalantly, a smirk creeping at my mouth as I felt Lucy’s arms tighten around me and her mouth getting close to my ear.

Lucy did not show jealousy often but I loved it when she did. I loved teasing her but she would always dismiss it saying that she knew that I was hers so why should she worry. But the tone of her voice gave her away.

“Oh really?” She says softly in my ear before turning me around my back to the countertop now. My face remained unfazed as I nodded, even though I was loving everything about the interaction.

“Yes?” I nod over to the other counter across from me. “I made you some breakfast so ya don’t miss me too much, even cut you some fruit”.

The softness and nonchalant nature of my voice made her jaw tightened a bit.

“Want me to go with you?” she said not letting me go, still caging me in against the counter.

I thought for a moment and then shook my head “no” and simply replied.

“I’m a big girl. Don’t you worry, Lucia” My eyebrows raised slightly as Lucy pulled back.

Lucy moves her arms back to her side, “Fine, but I’m driving you”

She did end up driving me to the little brunch place and ignored my “protests” of “you don’t have to walk me to the restaurant, Luce” as she held me tightly at the waist, her hand possessively on the bare skin on my waist.

I let myself out of Lucy’s hold as I introduced myself to my dance partner. He truly was the object of every other girls dream…just not mine. He wasn’t unattractive at all. Even though Lucy came literally holding me at the waist, it didn’t stop my dance partner from subtly looking me up at down.

“Well, it’s great to meet a Euro Champion and a world cup finalist, (y/n)” he said avoiding Lucy’s glare through her sunglasses.

I stop him and laughed, “well technically two, this is Lucy Bronze, my partner, she was just dropping me off”

Lucy only extends her hand out to the guy and firmly shakes his hand and mutters out “pleasure”.

The guy only nods “well, I’ll make sure she gets home safely”.

I hide the smile on my face when I saw Lucy, still holding his hand, say bluntly.

“Oh? No, I’ll be picking her up, don’t you worry” the guy’s hand falling limp as she let’s go.

I give Lucy a hug and planned to just give her a quick kiss on the cheek but she pulled me closer to her by the waist and gave me a slow kiss on the lips,

Before I pull away, she whispered quietly in my ear, “just wanted to make sure he knows who you're coming home to”

______________________________________________________________

The little brunch outing was interesting to say the least. The boy was bold given Lucy did stare him down when she picked me up like she promised. Especially as we left the restaurant but I, kindly, avoided his “subtle” advances of him trying to lead me to Lucy’s car.

What had been discussed about the dance and from what I could see is that I would be the main focal point and he would be, for lack of a better term, an accessory. I, of course, would not be telling Lucy that immediately, I was very much enjoying the attention she was giving me.

It being essentially a solo dance made it easier since I have training and I wouldn't have to rely on someone else to also learn the choreography…which allowed for me to work on a little surprise for Lucy with my extra free time.

______________________________________________________________

“Baby, can you help me with something?” I yelled down the hall of our shared apartment.

Lucy came in shortly with a raised eyebrow “ yeah what’s up?”

“Remember how you said that you wanted to be my dance partner instead of what’s his face?” I say as I move some of our furniture out of the way to make space in the middle all while trying to not hit Narla in the process.

Lucy looked at me confused and with a laugh said, “I never said that…what’d you need though?”

I grab her hands and pull her to the middle of our living room “Well can you be my dance partner? You know with all the training and all I can’t really practice the choreo with him…so you want to help me?”

Lucy smiled and nodded as she pulled me closer to her and gave me a twirl “Ok, miss l/n, lead on”

______________________________________________________________

My, sweet, Lucia can be a wonderful dancer when she puts time into in. She followed my direction even though the “quick movements of the dance” were something she would have to get used to but eventually after a couple of weeks. She was able to fluidly hold me and move with me.

Narla definitely got a kick out of her two moms doing something akin to the salsa in the living room. I would say Lucy, even with the groans and complaints, secretly, enjoyed it as well.

The day of filming came quickly and out of nowhere and we were filming it in the streets of Barcelona; there was just no way we would be able to fly to England and back, especially with pre-season and games starting.

I just want to give a special thank you to M&S for giving Lucy that outfit she wore during that one photoshoot we had with England, honestly, doing the Lord’s work. I had subtly asked that I would love to see her wear it again and again subtly suggested she wear it to the Strictly Dancing shoot and I just love it when she listens to me.

Luce was behind the cameras and chatted with the producers as they waited for me to come out of the dressing room ready to film.

As I was led out with my hand loosely in my dance partner’s I reveled the intensity of Lucy’s stare.

Why?

Well I had a silver, fringe dress with an open back and the dress came up to my mid thigh and matching high heels and, well the fact, my dance partner was trying ever so slightly to get closer to me as we were speaking with the director.

As we got into position, center “stage” in the streets of Barcelona, I look over to Lucy and give a quick wink to her.

“Dance the Night by Dua Lipa” started to play on the set. I began moving quickly and sensually and interacting very little with my partner. The fringe of the dress definitely did not leave much to the imagination. There were parts where his hand would find my waist but those lasted only a few seconds.

Lucy watched, not letting me escape her sight and hid her frown as she noted the times my dance partner would slow the movements of his hands once they reached my waist or when he looked me over as I danced a little ahead of him.

We did not anticipate it being a one take but it was something that I wanted as it was more real in a way. As the music faded and the host came onto the stage to interview me, I caught Lucy in the corner of my eye, and she was smiling so big and visibly more relaxed.

“(y/n), so happy you could be here and we are just so happy to celebrate you and your achievements. How does it feel?” I hold the microphone, still catching my breath

“I loved this to be honest, love the show, and dancing is just something that I enjoy other than football. Uh, it’s definitely been some time since I’ve performed at this scale but it was absolutely a treat, thank you all for inviting me” I said gesturing to the crew members.

“Well, again we are happy to be a part of this and we know that another Euro Champions is in our midst, and I know that you had a little something prepared for the both of you?” The cameras now focused on a very confused Lucy.

I laugh and continue, “Yes, Miss Bronze, she thinks she has been helping me practice for this sole performance but we were actually going to dance together as well, come on babe” I gesture for her to come onto the stage.

The interviewer walks off announcing, “and now for a special dance by the Euro Champions and World Cup Finalists choreographed by Miss (y/n) (l/n)”.

Lucy finally reached me and whispered, “You little sneak,you planned this didn’t you?”

I only wink and immediately pushed Lucy into position like we have been doing at home in our living room.

“Maybe~” The music restarted and Lucy with the biggest smile on her face did everything perfectly. There were some slips in the movement but they were replaced with laughter as Lucy held onto me tightly as the music faded.

She hugged me tightly whispering, “Im so proud of you” her hands finding their place at my hips.

I gave her a quick kiss on the lips as we both ignored the claps from the crew members.

“So…would it be wrong to ask if you can keep the dress?” I smack her slightly at the question.

I give her a knowing smile, “Dress is mine to keep, but I don’t want to keep it on for too long, Miss Lucia Bronze”

I have never seen Lucy excuse herself, thank all the crew members and wish everyone a wonderful weekend so quickly before carrying me off the set in the midst of a fit of laughter.

Let’s just say that these scenes from the recording quickly overtook the locker room dance in edits and well it was all worth the teasing from our teammates when it finally aired.

#lucy bronze #engwnt x reader #lionesses #barca femeni #engwnt #lucy bronze imagine #lucy bronze x reader #woso x reader

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