#HI. HELLO. THIS DRIVES ME INSANE PLEASE READ THIS

[anachronistic-falsehood]

Vash and Femininity: Trigun Stampede and its Themes of Bodily Autonomy, Exploitation, and Vague Gender Fuckery

alright sit the fuck down. we're gonna talk about THEMES

I was on Twitter- terrible idea usually, but a couple people I follow made some tweets that got me thinking about Trigun's overall themes, and here we are. So let's talk about some themes in Tristamp! And I'll take a couple looks at Trimax as well, just for fun :3

Let's look at how the showrunners utilize gender roles and exploitation of feminine characters to show how unhealthy Knives' obsession with his ideal of Vash is, and how horrific his exploitation of Vash and the Plants is.

Vash, from the beginning of Tristamp, is someone who cares about people's choices. When people kill others in front of him, he reiterates that whether someone lives or dies is not another person's choice to make. This is something he learned from Rem (a prominent female figure in his life). He refuses to kill people because that is not his choice to make. To kill someone is the ultimate removal of their bodily autonomy. They can no longer make any choices at all; they're dead.

Vash is also someone who has almost no choice in what path his life takes. He's constantly dragged around by outside forces, namely situations that are caused by Knives (which we'll get into later). Vash doesn't make things happen, things happen to Vash. The majority of events that occur are not his fault. He's pushed and pulled in a thousand different directions. His entire life is completely out of his control.

This can be seen as early on in his life as the Fall, something he had no control over and had no idea he even had a part in. Even later, in the ship with Luida and Brad, after he's been rescued from the desert, he's kept in handcuffs right up until he's shown to be of use to them and the Plant on their ship. After that, he could theoretically say "no, I don't want to go to other ships and heal their plants," but he doesn't. He's Vash. He's helpful and nurturing at his core, and these people have done so much for him just by letting him stay, so he'll do whatever they ask, no question.

This carries over into his adulthood. At Jeneora Rock, he goes to look at their Plant at one simple request, doesn't protest when he's dragged into a duel-- he doesn't take initiative unless someone's life is immediately at stake. He lets people tell him what to do and lets himself get dragged around by the wrist. He doesn't even pretend to have control over his life like Trimax Vash does, which I mean. Fair. Why pretend to have a grip on your existence when it's impossible to do anything without a gun pointed at your head?

Vash is a very passive character. He's nurturing, kind, gentle- he's a guy that fits a lot of very typical feminine character stereotypes. If you wrote this same story but made him a woman, I wouldn't bat an eye (but I would definitely be looking at it a lot more critically, what with the amount of stereotypically nurturing/motherly female characters in media already.)

This contrasts directly with Knives. He makes a decision and carries through no matter what stands in his way. He takes initiative. If Vash is a passive character, Knives is an active character. Wherever he goes, he leaves a lasting imprint. He makes shit happen! If outside forces make things happen to him, he'll go out of his way to make sure that particular force doesn't affect him again.

These two tweets I saw are what got me thinking about this originally. I just feel like here's a good place to put them as a segue into talking about episode 11.

Episode 11 is where a lot of this feminine imagery really just. Explodes in your face. IT'S RIGHT THERE. You can't dance around it if you try. And it kind of reaches a peak when the connection reaches 100%, the gate opens, and. well. THIS happens to the Plants.

Plants, in both Trimax and Tristamp, are almost always typically feminine-looking. Knives and Vash are the only two who are male or even masculine at all. Knives, as the most masculine out of all of them, is the one trying to take charge, and mould the world as he sees fit, to a degree that is detrimental to both him and everyone else. And Vash-- passive, feminine, kind and nurturing, whose Angel Arm in the manga always sprouts decidedly feminine-looking Plant parts-- is the one being exploited for Knives' plans. It's no mistake that they made the giant plant formation at the end of ep 11 look like a giant woman that almost resembles Rem.

Vash wants people to make their own choices and keep their autonomy when it comes to their bodies and lives. Knives is the exact opposite. He wants all Plants to become independent and he uses Vash to achieve that goal, without asking what Vash wants or even knowing what the Plants themselves would prefer. He exploits Vash for the soul purpose of trying to make these Plants have Independent Plant babies. He's completely incapable of seeing that his choices are not for the greater good! He thinks he's saving them, but none of his actions are for the good of anyone but himself. He’s just violating them for his own gain.

They're really leaning into gender roles for these guys, but in a way that screams "HEY, LOOK AT THIS! ISN'T IT FUCKED UP? LOOK AT HOW FUCKED UP THAT IS. LOOK AT THIS, AND BE UNCOMFORTABLE, AND KNOW THAT IT IS FUCKED UP."

Because it is! It's so extremely fucked up. They're using this imagery and these roles, something that makes most of us intrinsically uncomfortable, to drive home how unhealthy Knives relationship with his ideal of Vash is. That's the point. We're supposed to be uncomfortable with this.

Now of course there's some nuance to it. Like, you could see Knives as somewhat of a feminine and/or queer-coded figure as well, ESPECIALLY if you look at some of his panels in the manga, which could in turn lead to themes about infighting and control within marginalized communities, but that might be something for another post. :3

And there's definitely different ways you could take this! Vash, with all this feminine imagery, could be either transfem or transmasc coded, depending on what way you'd rather see it, which could lead into themes of how people outside the norm constantly face a lack of bodily autonomy and are exploited for purposes outside their boundaries. We could also look at Wolfwood and his lack of choice over joining the Eye of Michael and becoming the Punisher, and how masculine men (particularly men of colour) are often forced into violent roles against their will. If we look at Trimax, the exact same could be said for Livio/Razlo and people with disorders such as DID/OSDD.

There are many different ways you could spin these themes, some of which I don't feel personally qualified to discuss. If anyone who is qualified to talk about Wolfwood or Livio/Razlo or even other characters related to these themes, then god PLEASE add onto this post or make a post and tag me or something. I would love to read it!

Anyway, in conclusion: Vash is a feminine figure constantly taken advantage of and exploited and and he's so incredibly trans/nonbinary-coded that it drives me insane. Thank you

#whiskeys word soup #trigun #trigun stampede #HI. HELLO. THIS DRIVES ME INSANE PLEASE READ THIS #and seriously if anyone wants to make a post about wolfwood or livio/razlo or any other character exploring these themes of bodily autonomy #on GOD. lemme know i wanna read it #well aware that some of this is probably me digging too deep for things that aren’t there but still!!! fun to look at #what is media analysis other than putting on ur queer glasses and picking out trans allegories within stories #it’s been a while since I’ve made a full analysis essay kinda post!! this is how i normally format them bc it’s easier for me to read

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU pt. 55 (12.2)

part 1 | part 54 | ao3

A cop picks him up just outside Dinwiddie, two and a half miles from where he left his car on the side of the road. She’s plump and squat, with red hair and a midwestern accent, like Mrs. Henderson if she grew up in Minnesota.

“Wisconsin,” she corrects. “Hop in, I’ll take you to Lorraine’s.”

“Thanks, Officer…?”

“Greene.”

Steve accepts the offer because his fingertips are so cold they’re starting to burn through his leather gloves, and as she drives them to the diner in town he explains the flat tire — debris flying off an eighteen wheeler, a crazy loud clang followed by a flapping thud-thud-thud, the smell of burnt rubber as he eased onto the shoulder only to remember that he never replaced his busted tire jack.

“Coulda been worse,” Officer Greene shrugs, looking at him with a small grin and tapping a gloved finger against her temple. “Coulda hit ya in the noggin.”

“True," Steve chuckles, "could’ve gone four for four on the concussions.” He has to cover his laugh with a fake cough because he gets a flash of concerned crazy eyes in response, which is pretty fair, actually. Sometimes he forgets the details of his life all sound insane. “Uh. Sports," he amends. "I play— yeah.”

The rest of the drive is quiet. Steve watches the woods, the shadows reaching like blunt fingers over the hills, and the snow turns to freezing rain and pools in all the potholes as they splash down the sad main street, past a junkyard and an old schoolhouse, past boarded-up windows and short, stubby buildings full of failing small businesses. Lorraine’s is a hole in the wall at the end of a neglected strip, half the bulbs on the sign blown out so it just reads Rain’s in flickering yellow light, and Steve thinks that's fitting because this place is shit. This place is shit, and he feels like shit, and he’s going to have to drive home to his shitty trailer and see Eddie’s van parked across the street or maybe it still won't be there at all and he— he fucking—

"Easy," Officer Greene says. "You'll chew a hole through your lip doin' that." She parks the car and turns to him, squinting. "You okay?"

Steve pinches the end of his nose.

In the diner, she slides into the booth opposite him and insists on buying him coffee and a short stack, because, "Well, no offense, young man, but you seem like you may be goin' through it a bit."

Steve winces over his coffee, cradling the warm cup with both hands. “Yeah, well,” he sniffs, “my, uh…" Your what, exactly? "I got dumped.”

He doesn’t know why he gives her the details — the empty bed, the sticky note. Sorry. Something in her eyes makes him feel like he can trust her, and when they finish their meal she reaches over and lays a hand over his. Tells him it sounds like he’s got a lot of other people who love him; tells him he should think about giving one of them a call.

With a lump in his throat and fresh tears in his lashes, he fishes quarters from his pocket and trudges over to the phone. Dials one of the few numbers he knows by heart.

“Hello,” Claudia greets, “Henderson residence.”

A truly ugly noise escapes him, wet and thick with phlegm.

“Hello?” she tries again. "Dusty, is that you? Are you okay?"

Steve’s not about to cry where all the waitresses can see. “Hey, Ma,” he croaks when he feels like he can breathe. “It's Steve. Can I... do you mind if I stay with you for a bit?” 

—

part 56

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #trailer park steve au #my writing #my fic

[tteokdoroki]

*ੈ🌩️‧₊˚— phone calls from far away + katsuki bakugou.

૮˶ᵕ ༝ᵕ˶ა synopsis — katsuki get's grumpy when he's away from you - but luckily his groomsmen know just who to call to make him feel better.

⭑ warnings — please read + mdni ! characters aged up to 20s, crack? smut, phone sex, mutual masturbation, guided masturbation, slight praise!kink, pro-hero!bakugou, fem!reader - not beta read !

⭑ words — 2.6K.

⭑ notes — hello my lurvs! i feel like its been ages since i wrote the main man bkg so here's an old wip i found and ended up finishing so i could practise short form! twas picked by you guys! enjoy ! - m.list ✩

“i need you take this phone, drop your panties and have sex with bakugou. now.”

“kaminari— what?” 

you’d just picked up the phone, halfway through a peaceful afternoon relaxing before your own bridal shower in a few days and hadn’t been expecting a call from some of your husband’s closest friends. 

“you heard me! take the phone, take off your underwear and fuck—“ 

“please!” kirishima pleads with you next, looking like he’s about to cry. “he’s driving me insane!” 

“what’s he done now?”

“he’s grumpier than usual, threatened to skin deku alive for chewing too loud and nearly ripped the damn bolt out of my hair when i asked him to pass the salt at breakfast— please, be my saving grace here and have phone sex with your fiancé before he kills us all!” 

you smile and cock your head, picking up the kettle to finish your tea. “that just sounds like regular old katsuki,” kaminari’s bottom lip wobbles and kirishima groans in the background— it was obvious you were their last resort. a guys only holiday for your lover’s bachelor party had been their idea despite your warnings but you did miss katsuki and you were feeling pent up from being away from him. you were sure he felt the same, he was clingy and pouty, threw tantrums when he couldn’t have you. 

“we’re begging you here,” shouto cuts in as he enters the frame— ice cold drink in his hands and his face calm. though his mismatched eyes blaze with stress. “thirty minutes of your time and i’ll let you take a spin in my father’s private jet.” 

you note sero tugging on his hair in the background.

“i thought hush money wasn’t your thing, todoroki.” you’re coy with your words, watching the boys fall into a pit of despair at your boyfriend’s tantrums. 

izuku speaks next, his green eyes large and glassy.  “please.” 

in the end, you relent in amusement and send the boys off to give the phone to bakugou while you make yourself comfortable in your shared bedroom— surrounded by his lingering scent of caramel and sweet musk woven into the threads of the expensive linen sheets the blonde insisted on buying.

you can’t stop your heart from fluttering once your fiancé pops into view— he’s decked out in a lose fitting button down, open to reveal his perfectly cut washboard abs and the expanse of  his skin, slightly golden and tanned from the caribbean sun. katsuki’s luminous red eyes soften as soon as they settle their sights on you, love flickering amongst the darkened flecks that spiral within them. “hi baby, how’s your vacation going?” you sing, sinking back into the blankets and holding your phone up above so that he can get a good view of you.

“awful. these idiots wouldn’t know how to plan a trip outta this damn resort if they tried.” bakugou comments, going quiet as he waits for your laughter. he gets clingier when he’s away, finding himself souring over the fact that he can’t just roll over and bury his face in your neck every morning— instead he’s met with eijirou or stupid izuku trying to drag him out for some bachelor’s fun…when really all katsuki wants is to be with you. “miss you, wish you were here.” 

“i miss you too kats, so much.” with a voice that drips like honey, you lower your tone until it’s sultry— your siren’s song running smoothly through  bakugou’s ears. he quirks a brow at you, recognizing it as he mumbles a quiet ‘yeah?’ “mhm…wanna see how much i’ve missed you, baby?” 

“‘course i wanna see you, pretty girl…” acknowledging his hum as one of approval, you pan your camera down the expanse of your lounging body. using one hand to hike up your (katsuki’s) shirt— revealing plush thighs and a soft tummy and the stretch marks that curl around your waist and curve of your hips. the low groan bakugou lets out from over the line shoots straight down to your clit, the little nub pulsing with need as you drag your fingertips over your skin just like your fiancé would.

both of you develop a hitch in your breath when you hit the waistband of your panties— they’re nothing special, nothing out of the ordinary but katsuki finds the comfort and confidence you have in yourself incredibly sexy. you can tell by the intensity of his stare, ruby gem eyes honed in on your every movement, that he’s hungry for you— like a feral animal that hasn’t eaten in weeks. 

“how bad d’ya wanna see, katsuki?” you ask him shakily, toying with your waist band, hips wiggling as if to prompt an answer out of him. 

bakugou’s tongue darts out to wet his lips, and even though the service on your call isn’t the best, you’re still able to pick up on his ragged and uneven breathing. “you’re killin’ me here, sweetness. show me.” 

“m’kay, let me get you a better view.” 

feeling the flame of desire ignite in your core— you make quick work of propping your phone up against spare pillows and spread your legs either side of the frame. he does the same. there’s a growing wet patch from where your slickness seeps into the crotch of your underwear— obvious to katsuki even from over the screen, painted in darker shades of pixels. you’re so wet that it defines the puffiness of your folds pulsing between the material and for a bit of relief, you slide the length of your middle finger between them, whimpering out your fiancé’s name. 

“that’s it, touch yourself f’me,” the blonde slurs, his eyes hooded and voice hoarse, entranced by the way you slap three fingers against your sticky and clothed cunt. “can you take your panties off too, sweetness? wanna see that pussy ‘n how she’s doin’ without me.” katsuki knows how turned on you get from him watching you, admiring you like you’re a work of art belonging to one of the finest galleries in the world— so he takes it upon himself to guide you softly, command you even when he’s thousands of miles away.

you do as your fiancé says, peeling your panties off despite how thick, clear strings of arousal glue them to your sex before you toss them into the room somewhere. a choked moan rattles around in katsuki’s throat, watching your unused, tiny hole quiver around nothing after being exposed to the cold air— he can’t help but whine next, all high pitched and desperate, wishing it was him who was circling two digits around your entrance and occasionally dipping them into your salacious sex instead of you.

that should be him stretching you out, should be him in his bed— touching up his girl and playing with her swollen clit as blood carrying lust and happy hormones rush to it. “such a…such a good fuckin’ girl for me, baby.” bakugou goads, his eyes damn near rolling back at the sound of your lewd pussy squelching around your fingers echoing around his hotel room. your hips slowly rocking against the palm of your hand so you slowly fuck them into yourself. 

his camera picks up on every detail, the way your cunt glistens with arousal and the way your thighs twitch the more you give yourself— curling your fingers against your soft velvet walls bakugou’s been dying to be inside since the night he left for this stupid fucking bachelors trip. the more he sees you stuff yourself, the more his cock twitches to life and strains against the netting on the inside of his swim shorts, the first spurts of milky precum smearing against it.

before you get too lost in the pleasure, you sit up and pull your fingers from the snugness of your selfish sex and spit onto them as if to give yourself more lube to fuck yourself deeper— taking a break to reel katsuki in.  “take your cock out f’me kats, i know you’re hard.” you say breathless, the tail end of your words tapering off into a quiet sigh while slap down on your soaked pussy for his viewing. “probably so pent up, miss your pretty cock. miss havin’ you inside me.” 

bakugou shudders at your praise, moving quickly to kick off his shorts and letting his aching cock spring free— the length of it smacking against his tummy, precum beading just above his belly button. “i miss you baby. fuck…so sensitive,” he hisses, forming a fist around his shaft, rough palms from his quirk brushing up against the pretty blue veins that wrap all the way around him. you’ll never get over how beautiful his cock is, how beautiful your fiancé is with his skin flushed and shining with a thin layer of sweat— chest heaving rhythmically as whimpering as he touches himself to you and spits in his palm to mimick the wetness of your pussy around him.  bakugou’s cockhead, a bright shade of red, bleeds white against his knuckles while he matches the pace of his hand to your fingers sliding sloppily in and out of your fluttering hole. “rub in circles baby, don’t forget. jus’ like that… jus’ like how i do it.”

pressing a thumb into your clit and dragging the hood of it back, you squeal— seizing up and gushing all at once. “ooh, shit ‘suki!” you stutter, bucking your hips up eagerly to meet your hand— imaging your fiancé stuffing you full instead of your tiny fingers. “w-what do you miss about me, kats? t-tell me baby.” 

“miss…y-your…fuck! you’re so pretty. mm’god, baby…” it’s impossible to focus on anything but your pussy on display for him— your movements syncing up with each other, touching yourselves as if you’re fucking one another. the glisten of your nectar around your fingers only serves to turn the explosive pro hero on even more and he only hopes the view of his precum dripping down his balls and his knuckles has the same effect on you. 

“don’t be shy kats, focus.” 

“miss your skin, s’so soft. your lips on mine. my tongue in your fuckin’ mouth… fuck, your pussy wrapped around me, squeezin’ down on me just like that…” bakugou grunts out over the sound of his fist slapping wetly up and down his dick. “cant wait to get home ‘n sink into your tight little hole, fuck you like your fingers can’t.”

“i should make you wait until after the wedding day. s’what you get for leaving me.” you tease him despite your pout, saliva pooling on your tongue as you just about manage to brush at your g-spot, something katsuki wouldn’t have struggled with if he were here making a mess of you in person. you suppose fucking him over face time would have to do for now. 

“no baby, please. please don’t make me wait, ‘m gonna fuck you so good i promise.” katsuki begs and you believe him, how can you not? with his cheeks all red and face twisted in desperation… perhaps agony from not being able to grind his girth into the deepest parts of you— sufficing with his soiled fist and the memory of you instead. he’s only been away from you a week, but it feels like eternity. “if you wanted to wait until after marriage i’d have put a ring on your finger the day we first fuckin’ met.” he somehow quips, his voice falling just underneath the sound of skin on skin as he pumps himself towards orgasm— matching how you get yourself there with rapid circles on your pleasure nub and fingertips pressed against your g-spot. 

if he were there, you would have cum by now— squealing on his cock like the little princess that you are, your juices running down your inner thighs even more than they are now. the thought of you ruined like that that nearly kills the blonde. 

“are you close katsuki? don’t hold back for me.” the way you say his name and pull him back into the present has bakugou’s hips lifting from the bed in his hotel room, the course pad of his thumb swiping eagerly over his burning cockhead as he rubs his seedy arousal into his sensitive slit.  his fist around his cock mimics the way you would squeeze  down on him every time you curl your fingers in your pretty cunt. 

the pro hero shakes his head, the tips of his ears flushing red too even though it’s grainy from over the face time call. “d-don’t wanna cum without you.” 

it’s not that he doesn’t, it’s that he can’t. katsuki can’t cum unless he’s got his eyes on you, watching every detail and shift of your facial expressions when you’re close— when you’re mewling out for him and crying for his cock just like you are now… except on the other side of the world. he can’t cum unless your body tells him that you’re close too. 

“i’m there baby. let go for me.” it’s your turn to make a promise to him, throwing your head back into the pillows so you can take in bakugou’s scent— picture him rutting into you from above, droplets of sweat running down his forehead as he pounds you into oblivion. the ecstasy running through your system threatens to make the dam burst, the symphony of your moans harmonising over the call only dragging you closer and closer to your highs. “c-cum with me. please.” 

neither of you can hold back, bakugou pumping his dick until it hurts— a raw and needy cry ripping through his sticky chest as his thick load shoots up it, painting him white with his own seed and contrasting against his sun kissed skin. you’re no better, gushing so hard that you force your fingers out of you, clear streams of your juices spewing out of your cunt and soiling the sheets below. 

for a moment, the pair of you lay on call with each other, panting in unison as you come back down to earth. katsuki cleans himself up with a tissue and you lean down to grab your phone, wanting to see him better.

“i really do…fuck… made me cum so much. i really do miss you baby.” he’s the first to speak, his voice gravely from all the cursing and groaning he had been doing but his facial expression soft and satisfied.

“i know. i can’t wait for you to come home, have fun for me okay? i’ll be waiting.” you whisper to him, smitten and longing— mentally counting down the days until he’s back from his bachelors vacation. “no more tantrums. behave.” 

“m’kay sweetness,” bakugou laughs at your warning, rolling his eyes albeit fondly. “drink some water ‘n eat somethin’ good yeah? you always forget if you fall asleep right after you cum.”

“i will. you eat somethin’ too. i love you.” 

“love you more.” 

it takes a while before either of you hang up— clinging onto the few moments you have with one another before one of the boys come looking for katsuki and whisk him away. 

you manage with shaky legs to get up and pee before fixing yourself some cup ramen so you can head to bed for the night on a full stomach ( as your fiancé had wished ).  when you wake up the next day you have several happy texts from kaminari and an attachment, so you rub your eyes to clear your bleary vision to check them. 

kaminari dunce face - 13:52PM: thank you for whatever the fuck you did to kacchan tonight. 

kaminari dunce face - 13:53PM: he’s literally never been nicer.

kaminari dunce face - 13:55PM: (attachment.mp4)

downloading the video, you can’t help but grin— adding the video of katsuki drunkardly hugging deku and singing his love for you in the middle of the resort at night directly to your camera roll.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou smut #bakugou thirst #bakugo x reader #bakugo smut #bakugo x you #bnha x reader #bnha thirst #bakugo thirst #bakugou fic #bakugou imagines #katsuki bakugou smut #bnha x you #bnha smut #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki

[charmandabear]

Office Hours - Chapter Six

Summary:

Astarion surprises you with a night at the theatre that doesn't go quite according to your plan.

Pairing: Astarion/F!Reader Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4.7k Tags/Warnings: rough/angry sex, hair pulling, emotional manipulation, dubcon, bad BDSM practices, angst, daddy kink, reminiscent of Ascended!Astarion, discussions of domestic abuse (in Taming of the Shrew)

Hi. Hello. My sweets. My darlings. This is it. The chapter where you absolutely must mind the tags. Just know that I won't take you anywhere that we won't be able to come back from. Know that I, too, am an absolute baby when it comes to intense subject matter in fics. But I want you to take care of yourselves and your hearts. As always, shoot me a message if you'd like more specifics.

Photo credits: Zaria for Green Pussy Suit Astarion and Nephi Garcia for the incredible dress.

Read on AO3 ~ Masterlist

“In the library? Babes, are you insane?” Shadowheart's voice reaches a pitch you’re fairly sure only dogs can hear. You curl your knees into your chest and cover your face in your hands, feeling the exact appropriate amount of shame.

“I know, I know. All logic goes out the fucking window around him. All I can think is ‘mm, good dick makes brain go brr.’” You let out a frustrated sigh into your hands.

“Do you want to get fired?” She pulls your hand from your face so you can't hide from her pointed stare.

“Oh trust me, I ran about forty different scenarios of that happening through my head on the drive home.”

“Did you, now? And in how many of these did he also get fired?” Shadowheart presses, knowing how your anxiety can get out of hand.

“Like, two,” you groan and drop your head back onto the couch cushions. “I don't know what comes over me. I feel like I can't tell him no.”

“Wait, wait.” Shadowheart grips your knee, suddenly worried. “You can't tell him no as in it feels too good to stop? Or as in it doesn't feel safe to say no?”

“Nine hells, no, the first one!” you respond, horrified. She squints at you and you squirm under her gaze until you’re finally more truthful, both with her and yourself. “Well, I mean, mostly. Like it's not like that. But like also not not like that, you know?”

“I can assure you I do not,” she says in a flat voice, not interested in joking around. You sigh dramatically, trying to find the right words to describe how you feel.

“Like. Okay. Am I fully consenting to everything we do? Yes. 100%. Oh gods, yes.” Your cheeks tinge pink even thinking about it. “But like… am I going against my best judgment? Do I feel like I should say no? Does part of me kinda wish I would say no? Like… maybe?”

“Tav, that's not okay. You need to talk to him about this.” Shadowheart’s voice is soft with genuine worry. Which is ridiculous, because she’s focusing on the wrong thing.

“No, see, that's the thing. It's not actually a him issue, it's a me issue. Like there's something wrong with me, I see his most toxic traits and suddenly I'm like a horny teenager!” Your voice increases in pitch as you grow more hysterical. “How am I supposed to call him out on it when the only words that will come out of my mouth are ‘yes daddy, more please’?”

“Is there anything redeemable about him at all? Besides being good in bed?” She leans back, taking a sip of her wine and fixing you with an incredulous look. 

“I mean… yeah. He’s witty, and bantering back and forth with him is fun. He’s incredibly smart, as loath as I am to admit it, and I like hearing his ideas on things, especially his interpretation of Shakespeare’s text.” You don't even notice the smile growing on your face, but Shadowheart does. “And he’s got this unexpectedly soft side. Like he seems cold and aloof on the outside, but he cares, deeply. About his students, about his cat, about-”

“About you?” she interjects, and your smile falters.

“I don't know, Shade,” you say quietly, almost ashamed to look her in the eye. “I think so. I hope so. But it's not like we've been seeing each other for that long, he’s under no obligation to feel anything.” You practically swallow the last sentence, a truth you're reticent to voice. 

“And you?” she asks softly.

“Man, I don't fucking know. I just want to keep getting laid and not catch feelings, is that so much to ask?” you whine. She laughs, but you can tell that she's only humoring you.

“For you? Probably.”

***

It's been several days and your busy schedules have kept you and Astarion apart for most of it. Save the occasional tension-filled passing in the hall, you've barely interacted at all. You're almost beginning to believe that your whirlwind affair has come to an end when you find a mystery package at your apartment door.

It's made out to you with no discernable return address. You bring the box into your apartment while examining it, trying to ascertain its origin. It doesn't even really look like it was sent through the mail, it looks like it was dropped off.

You take out your phone and call down to the front desk. It rings a few times, then a somber voice answers.

“What dost thou require?” His voice is deep and crackled, like some ancient eternal being.

“Hi Withers, it's Tav in 3C. Do you know anything about this package that was left at my door?”

“I have inspected it, and determined it safe for you to open. It was brought by someone claiming to be a friend.”

“Can you tell me anything about this someone?”

“No.”

And the line goes dead. You laugh and shake your head. If Withers says it's safe, then it probably is. You’d trust that wrinkly old man with your life, honestly. You cut open the tape sealing the box shut and lift off the top.

Inside is something wrapped in tissue paper with a note stuck to it in Astarion's immaculate handwriting. 

Tomorrow evening The Rosewood Seven o’clock Wear nothing underneath

You let out a small involuntary moan when you read the last three words. You carefully unwrap the tissue paper to find a fabric that looks like it's made of starlight. You pull out the midnight black dress and go slightly breathless when you get a good look at it. 

It’s a backless dress with a sweetheart neckline and intricate gold embellishments that almost make it look like armor. It has a lavish gold neck piece attached by several gold chains that drip over the skin. The skirt is made of a weightless black fabric that shimmers with gold as you move it in the light. It almost appears to be cut into two panels with dual hip-high slits.

With a dress cut like this, you wouldn't be able to wear undergarments even if you wanted to.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you think about what he might have in store for you. You're not even sure what's running at the Rosewood right now, but it could be complete trash and you wouldn't even care. You probably won't even be able to pay attention, too distracted by Astarion sitting next to you for two hours.

You feel a pulsing between your legs at the thought. You think of his hand sliding up your knee while you struggle to keep a straight face. Or him reaching an arm around you, gently sliding his fingers into your hair before giving it a sharp tug.

Another moan works its way out of your throat and you follow it up with an annoyed groan. You can really get swept up at the most inconvenient times. It’s not like you don’t have any work you need to do or anything. You roll your eyes as you stalk off to draw a bath.

***

Waiting in the lobby of the theater, you’re feeling surprisingly nervous. The dress, though beautiful, is not particularly comfortable. With all of its various chains and pieces, you needed Shadowheart’s help just to put it on. It helps that she’s also incredibly talented when it comes to hair and makeup, so in truth you feel positively glamorous. 

When you see Astarion, however, everything goes silent. You’re certain that he’s posing for you the way he’s stopped to adjust his cuff. The cut of the suit he’s wearing is exceptionally flattering and you imagine running your hands all over the emerald velvet. His crisp white button down is almost sheer and you desperately want to pull him into you by that forest green silk tie. 

But you can’t tear your eyes away from his face. This is the first time you've seen him wear makeup, and the simple smokey eyeliner look makes his red irises pop. He’s decided to forgo his glasses, presumably opting for contacts instead to show off the makeup. He’s also swapped out his standard silver hoops for little daggers with a red rhinestone glimmering at the hilt. 

He looks up at you the moment you lay eyes on him, or more specifically, the moment your heart starts to beat out of your chest. He flashes you a devastating smile before striding up to you and pulling you into a deep kiss. You can’t even be bothered to care that the other patrons are probably staring as he slides his hand onto your bare lower back, his cool touch sending a shiver up your spine.

He pulls away from you just enough to breathlessly ask, “Are you ready to sit down?”

“Huh?” You’re distracted, too busy plotting a mental path to the bathrooms to fuck him. He lets out a winded chuckle.

“The play. House is open, would you care to find our seats?” His palm is still pressed against your back and you can barely form coherent thoughts. You still don’t even know what play you’re here to see. You just want—no, need—to be near him.

“Um, yeah,” you respond, still trying to get your bearings and remind yourself how to be a person. You let him lead you into the theater, and only once you're in your seats do you realize that neither of you grabbed a program. You pull out your phone to see if you can look it up, but service in the Rosewood is notoriously bad. Instead you just need to sit still next to Astarion, who looks like a dream and smells even better. 

He glances at you as your heart quickens again and his lips curl into a smile. He slips his hand behind your neck and lightly runs his finger along the seam between the golden collar of the dress and your flesh, sending goosebumps down your arms. He leans toward you until his lips are almost brushing your ear. 

“You look absolutely ravishing, my dear,” he whispers, his breath tickling your earlobe. You turn your face toward him on instinct, your chest heaving as you try to steady your breathing. Your lips hover inches apart, anticipating the kiss, when suddenly a throng of noisy actors come barreling down the aisles. You snap away from Astarion as the cacophony of their shrieks of laughter, calls across the audience to one another, and drunken banter fill the house.

One of them clambors onto the stage and shouts, “For God’s sake, a pot of small ale!” He’s dressed in rags and appears by far to be the drunkest of them all. Three servingmen swarm him with various shouts of, “Will’t please your honor?” He shoves them all away and proudly takes up space center stage.

“I am Christophero Sly! Call not me ‘Honor’ nor ‘Lordship,’” he bellows as the rest of the players make their way onto the stage.

Christopher Sly… you’re wracking your brain to remember which play he serves as a framing device for. Most productions cut this scene because it’s long and completely irrelevant. You just can’t for the life of you remember which play he appears in.

The scene continues with their drunken antics and slapstick comedy as the players address Sly as “my noble lord,” making him believe he’s a king that they’re about to perform for. Eventually they carry Sly out on a makeshift palanquin as the “play within the play” begins. Two handsome young men in preppy clothes enter, holding a book and wearing glasses that aren’t too dissimilar from Astarion’s round metal ones. The one without the glasses speaks first.

“Tranio, since for the great desire I had to see fair Padua…”

Tranio? Isn’t he one of the characters in Taming of the Shrew?

He knows you don’t like this play.

Well, if it’s all that’s playing at the Rosewood right now…

But if that’s the case why not just, like, see a movie?

You shift uncomfortably in your dress and cast your gaze towards Astarion. He smiles, taking your fingers and placing a gentle kiss on your knuckles before turning back to the stage. He keeps your hand in his, absentmindedly stroking the back of your hand with his thumb. 

You can feel your heart pounding in your ears and you find yourself wondering what’s running through his head. Just when you think you have him figured out, he does something to surprise you. And honestly, not always in a good way.

Maybe it won’t be so bad. You know the creative team at the Rosewood wouldn’t pick this show if they weren’t going to try to do something with it. 

But even still… is this text even redeemable?

You sit through the entirety of the show cringing as the audience around you laughs at flagrant displays of domestic abuse. The actors, several of whom you’ve worked with before, are trying their hardest to make the lines playful, but some things just can’t be recovered. Between the forced starvation, physical intimidation, and gaslighting, you wonder why companies even bother performing this play anymore. No matter how witty the writing is, it’s just too out of date to be a good season choice.

When the time comes for Kate’s final monologue, you watch in pain as the actress tries to wink-wink-nudge-nudge her way through lines like “place your hands below your husband’s foot.” She’s young, and you wonder if this is one of her first professional gigs. You get a little sad knowing that she’s probably just desperate to do anything, even if it’s trash.

Maybe you’re being a little harsh. All of the individual elements of the show—the acting, set, costumes, direction, lighting—were quite good. You just can’t get over how irredeemable this text is. Worth teaching, yes, and maybe even taking Act II out of context just for the fun banter and clever wordplay. But professional theatre companies should really just retire this one.

In the Lyft back to your apartment, you decide to get Astarion’s take on the matter.

“Do you think it’s possible to redeem a text like Taming in a modern age?”

He pauses for a moment, continuing to look away from you and out the window.

“I do, yes,” he finally answers. “I think it takes a skilled hand, but it can be successful when done well.”

You sit on his response, chewing it over. You decide to take a different route.

“I guess a better question is do you think it’s worth trying to? Like, what are we getting out of it anymore?”

“Is entertainment not enough?” he says with a laugh. You wrinkle your nose at him.

“Sure, if you’re a basic ass bitch. But I want my art to mean something. And I can’t think of what this play can possibly mean if it’s not ‘shrill women are annoying and should learn their place.’” You cross and uncross your legs, trying to keep yourself decent.

“Last I checked, you enjoy being put in your place,” he says in a low hum and your pussy betrays you with a clench. 

“Shut up,” you grumble, and you’re grateful that the dark car hides your reddening cheeks. “It’s different.”

“Is it, though? Ultimately it is a text about two dysfunctional people finding comfort in one another.” His sincerity catches you off guard, and almost makes you angry that he’s been taken in by the propaganda.

“That’s only a valid interpretation if you ignore half of what happens in the play. They’re not equally dysfunctional, Kate literally gets beaten into submission and pretends to be happy about it. Petruchio is exactly the same from the start to the finish, he has no fucking character arc.” Your hands start to shake as you try to keep your cool. You’ve had this conversation far too many times with men who think they can interpret out the sexism by simply glossing over Kate’s abuse.

The Lyft stops in front of your building and you thank the driver as you get out. Astarion follows you, and you’re not even sure if you want him to accompany you upstairs. But you remain silent as you walk past Withers and into the elevator.

“You’re overreacting,” Astarion says once the elevator doors close. “People are drawn to this play for a reason. The text is excellent, and no one truly thinks of Petruchio as an abuser.”

“Are you joking?” Your voice gets shrill and the similarity to Kate isn’t lost on you. “The whole thing normalizes his abuse. The fact that people don’t think of him as an abuser is the problem.”

“It’s a slapstick comedy,” he snaps, his voice growing stern. “Are you going to tell me that we need to cancel the Three Stooges because it promotes violence?”

“Don’t be fucking condescending,” you spit. “It’s not the same and you know it.”

“How is it not the same? Suddenly because it’s a woman in the role it no longer counts? Are you implying that women should be barred from certain types of performance because of their gender?” He walks past you into your apartment and you throw your keys and bag on the counter, not even bothering to see where they land.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying, now you’re just twisting my words,” you grumble, more frustrated than ever by your inability to match his eloquence.

“So use your own words,” he sneers, whirling around to face you. “How is it not the same?”

“It’s because- well, I- It’s different, just- argh!” Your head is clouded by your attraction to him, which has annoyingly only grown over the past few minutes of shouting. You’re suddenly reminded of the smug arrogant bastard that you first met. He lets out a jeering laugh.

“See? You can’t even defend your own point.” 

His sardonic cruelty sets something off in you and you angrily grab the lapel of his green suit. Your intentions are a complete mystery even to you, because as soon as you’re within inches of one another, instincts take over. You crush his lips into yours and pull him backwards until you thump against the door behind you. He paws hungrily at the dress, sliding his hand under the slit and around to grab your bare ass. You gasp into his touch, feeling equally frustrated and aroused that he even controlled what you wore tonight.

Your fingers make their way into his hair and you pull hard, breaking the kiss and leaving his mouth open, panting. His eyes are sparkling with a fire that you haven’t seen yet and a low growl manifests in your throat. He smirks and buries his teeth into your shoulder, something he usually asks bespoke permission for. You cry out in response, twisting your hands tighter into his silvery locks.

He unlatches from your shoulder and pushes his knee past the front of your skirt and up onto your bare cunt. You grind wantonly against the velvet as he kisses you with bloody lips. He grabs hold of the delicate chains of the dress and yanks, detaching them from the collar and making the entire bodice crumple and pool around your waist. Your nipples immediately harden at the sudden exposure to cold air and he pinches one sharply between his fingers. Your hips roll into his leg as you groan, fully ruining his pants. He continues to bite around your neck and shoulders, placing little puncture wounds in his path, marking you as his.

You grab onto his tie and push him away so you can shimmy out of the rest of the dress. You’re now down to just the gold collar of the dress and your heels, a look you wish you could hate but don’t. You pull him across your living area and toward your bedroom, shoving him down onto the edge of the bed. 

“Thou hast hit it, come, sit on me,” he says, quoting Petruchio with a sinister grin. Kate’s retort falls out of your mouth reflexively.

“Asses are made to bear, and so are you,” you hiss as you straddle his hips, wrapping his tie around your hand until you’ve gripped it up to the knot. Your other hand violently unbuckles his belt, yanking it through the loops with a snap.

“Women are made to bear, and so are you,” he says with a caustic laugh, digging his nails into your ass cheeks. You tug sharply on his tie, bringing his lips close to yours.

“No such jade as you, if me you mean,” you snarl and silence him with an angry kiss. You don’t want to encourage his idiotic behavior, but you’d be lying to yourself if you said this wasn’t a fantasy you’ve had before. You fumble with the buttons of his suit jacket, trying to get him undressed as quickly as possible. You’re not sure if you feel more vulnerable or more powerful being undressed while he’s still fully clothed, but either way you want him naked, now. You get about three buttons into his shirt before you grow impatient, ripping it the rest of the way open and sending buttons flying. 

Good. Let him need to repair his clothes for once.

You push him flat onto his back and descend onto his chest, alternating kisses, licks, and bites. Your dull human teeth don’t have nearly the same effect as his fangs, but it just means you get to bite twice as hard in order to leave a mark. He writhes beneath your touch, and you feel a twisted satisfaction at the quiet little grunts and gasps you’re finally pulling from him. He’s rarely this vocal during sex, and it’s only serving to spur you on more.

His groans build until you capture his nipple in your teeth and bite down, causing him to shout and buck his hips up into you. In a flash he flips you around onto your back and he bears down on you, eyes dangerous. 

“Little love, do you think you’re in control?” he asks in a low growl, his hand gripped around your jaw. You sneer and slide your leg against the strained bulge in his pants. He hisses and your smile widens.

“Right now? Yes,” you coo, continuing to press your calf against his velvet-covered cock. You grab the tie still hanging around his neck and pull him close. 

“If you want it back, fucking take it.”

If I put my hands around your wrists, would you fight them?

He kisses you roughly, catching your bottom lip in his teeth biting hard enough to puncture the skin. He pulls back slightly, a drop of your blood running down his chin and a snide grin. He makes like he’s about to kiss you again but shoves your face away before your lips make contact.

This is the worst you’ve ever seen him—the most arrogant, the most condescending, borderline cruel even. And you have never been more turned on.

If I put my fingers in your mouth, would you bite them?

“Is that all you’ve got?” you taunt, licking the blood from your lips. “Go ahead, choke me, daddy.”

The feminist in you is horrified, but the little gremlin controlling your libido is having the time of its life. It squeals with delight when his hand closes around your throat, just barely constricting your breathing. 

“You insolent little brat,” he breathes into your ear, pulling up on your jaw. “I will absolutely ruin you.”

And there will be no tenderness, no tenderness.

“Do it, coward,” you spit, and he lets go just long enough to finish undressing from the waist down. He grabs your still heeled ankle and presses your leg up by your shoulder, stretching you wide enough to take him without any prep. You gasp as he fills you, the stinging pain outweighed by the gratification of finally feeling him inside you.

The only thing that I ask, love me mercilessly.

He sets a punishing rhythm, one knee on the bed and the other foot still firmly planted on the floor. He bottoms out with each long thrust and you grab hold of his hair to brace yourself. He winces with the pain but doesn’t slow down, and your moans grow high and loud as he continues to furiously pound into you. 

“Gods, fuck, Astarion,” you keen, your desire coiling in your belly and threatening to explode. “Keep going, daddy, fuck me please.” He grunts with the effort and your dirty talk seems to be having an effect as his pace falters. You jerk your hips up into him, chasing your orgasm, until finally it barrels through you like a runaway train. You pull on his hair as you come and that sets off his, his pulsing cock pressing against the clenching walls of your cunt. 

He stays deep inside you as the aftershocks reverberate through both of you, until the only sound remaining is your heavy panting. He drops his forehead to touch yours, a pleasantly tender moment after some of the roughest sex you can recall having. He starts to giggle and you follow suit, suddenly giddy. He pulls out of you with a squelch and walks to the bathroom to get a towel to clean up the mess you’ve left behind. He wipes you down gently, a surprising bit of aftercare you’re not accustomed to with him. He plants a tender kiss on your lips and you feel dizzy with affection for him.

You settle up against the headboard of your bed, his arm around you and both of you looking at your phones in a companionable silence. After a moment, he lets out a small chuckle. 

“What?” you ask, turning your head towards him quizzically.

“I’m just shocked that worked, is all,” he laughs, shaking his head. Your confusion grows and you furrow your brow.

“What worked?” you laugh with him, but something doesn’t feel right.

“The whole night, taking you to see Taming, getting into just enough of a fight to result in,” he vaguely waves his hand, gesturing to the edge of the bed, “all of that.”

“Wait, what? What do you mean?” You pull away from him and your stomach drops. Surely he can’t be suggesting what you think he’s suggesting.

“You get riled up so easily, I thought this might be fun.” He still doesn’t seem to have picked up on your heart pounding in your ears, which is frankly unusual for him.

“Are you saying… Wait, are you saying that you planned that fight? So, what, we’d have angry sex?”

“Of course, you don’t think I actually believe anything that I said, do you? Taming of the Shrew might be well-written, but it’s a rubbish play to produce.” He finally turns to you and sees that you’ve gone white as a sheet. “Oh, darling, don’t take it like that, you’re positively adorable when you’re angry, I couldn’t resist.” He tries putting his hand to your cheek but you flinch away like he’s burned you.

“Get out,” you say in a low voice, unable to even look at him.

“What?” He’s still laughing. He doesn’t get it. “My sweet, didn’t you-”

“GET. OUT.” Your voice has a venom in it that even shocks you. He stares at you in horror until you shoot him an icy glare. “Now.”

Without a word he stands and quickly puts his clothes back on. You stay in your bed, naked and curled under a sheet, until you hear the front door of your apartment slam. With shaking hands, you call Shadowheart.

“Moonmaiden’s delight, did you enjoy yourself? It certainly sounded like you did.” The sound of Shadowheart’s bubbly laugh usually makes you smile, but right now it seeps into your skin like poison.

“Shade, please come over,” you whimper, and the second the words leave your mouth, the tears begin to fall. You don’t hear her hang up, but you do hear a muffled, “I’m going to fucking kill him!” through the wall. You pull your knees further into your chest and sob.

#astarion #astarion fanfic #astarion fic #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate fanfiction #astarion ancunin #astarion smut #baldurs gate smut #fanfiction #smut #professor astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x you #bg3 au #college au #bg3 modern au #astarion x tav #astarion romance #office hours #baldurs gate au #astarion angst

[rollinouttahere-writes]

Hello 👋 I am a fan of all your work!!

I was wondering if you were still taking requests? If you are here’s an idea: reader (or Lucky) is turn into a child due to a devil fruit and the yandere Strawhats go into over drive to protect them because the reader can’t fight?

Thanks!!

I decided to do this with Lucky since I haven’t updated Lucky Break in a hot minute (I’m sorry but the requests and au’s have been too good). I’m just gonna stick with the east blue gang for this because if I go any further then I’m gonna spoil some stuff. This takes place post Arlong park but pre Loguetown. Lucky is around 4 here. There really isn't much yandere going on here, it's mostly them being wholesome.

Read Lucky Break for context

Get back here!

Straw Hats x Child Reader (Lucky)

2k words

“Luffy please stop carrying her like that you’re going to drop her!” Nami screeched while trying to snatch you out of his hand. 

Luffy only laughed and danced out of the way, still holding you by the ankle while you giggled right along with him. Blood was starting to rush to your head a little bit, but you were having too much fun to complain about it. You couldn’t remember the last time you had this much fun!

“Lucky’s fine! She wouldn’t be laughing if she wasn’t!” Despite this, he decided to change his hold on you. By tossing you high into the air. Your giggles fell short at the sensation of sailing into the sky and you couldn’t help but stare at the beautiful ocean surrounding you. Gravity caught up, and you fell back into Luffy’s clutches with him holding you under your armpits.

Sanji stormed over and wrenched you out of his grip, and cradling you like a baby, “Are you insane?! What if you didn’t catch her, are you trying to give this one a head injury too?!” You were being squished into his chest while he was aggressively petting your hair and bouncing you as if you were upset. Which you weren’t. Well, you weren’t before but this treatment was more than a little annoying.

Your squirming got his attention back on you as you tried to get out of the somewhat suffocating hold he had on you. This effort was all in vain, as he simply readjusted his grip on you. “What’s wrong, princess? Did that stupid meathead hurt you?” Not even waiting for an answer, he was holding you out to search for any possible injury with a scrutinizing stare.

“No! Put me down, I’m not a baby!” You protested, uselessly kicking your little legs. Sanji’s face fell and he looked like you just stabbed him in the heart. His grip slackened enough for you to be able to free yourself, so naturally you went for it.

The second your feet hit the floor you spun on your heels and ran to Luffy, arms held up to him, “Again! Again!”

Luffy grinned broadly and was quick to do just that, grabbing your tiny waist and launching you into the air before anyone could stop him. Loud shrieks of protest resounded beneath you, but you could barely hear them over the peals of laughter coming out of you. You were so high up that you could look the jolly roger in the eye. Birds were flying past you just a bit higher, glancing at you curiously.

You fell down into Luffy’s hands again, but he learned from last time and immediately ran away from everyone crowding around him with you thrown over his shoulder.

“Would you stop?! What if she fell into the ocean?!” Nami yelled, desperately trying to close the gap between herself and you.

“One of you could’ve gotten her then, right?” Luffy said as if it were painfully obvious, turning to face them and cocking his head to the side.

While his back was turned, Usopp took the opportunity to try and creep up from behind. He made an exaggerated shushing motion to try and keep you quiet. It didn’t work. “Luffy! Usopp’s trying to sneak up on you!” You tattled on him with a smile on your face. Usopp’s jaw dropped at the betrayal.

“Huh? He is?” Luffy whirled around, to verify this. “What are you doing crouched down like that? You tryin’ to play leap frog or something?”

Nami took him having his back turned as her chance. She lunged for you, but wasn’t quick enough. Luffy sidestepped, causing her to plow right into Usopp and tackle him to the ground with a yelp. You giggled and clapped your hands at the mayhem. 

After untangling herself from Usopp, Nami growled in aggravation, “Zoro! Would you quit working out for three seconds and help us?!”

Zoro barely spared her more than a glance before resuming his bicep curls, “Luffy’s just playing with her. What’s the big deal? Relax.”

Sanji ran up from the side, coming very close to grabbing you, only for Luffy to use his stretchy arms to rocket himself up to the crowsnest. There was a cacophony of yelling coming from the deck beneath you. 

Luffy’s whole body shook with laughter as he watched his crew scramble to figure out what to do next. You were perched up on his shoulders now with his hands holding onto your ankles, taking in the sight of the chaos with him. As your own laughter died down, your attention was drawn to his hat. It looked pretty cool to you, and you wanted to wear it.

Without a moment’s hesitation, you plucked it off his head and put it onto your own. His shoulders stiffened immediately, and he snapped his head up to look at you. Not that you were paying much attention to him, rather choosing to smile triumphantly at successfully getting your hands on his hat. You looked down at him happily and asked, “Does wearing this make me the captain now?”

“Wha- Hey! First you steal my hat and now you’re trying to take my position, too?! You’re getting the hang of this pirate thing really fast!”

You weren’t able to bask in your victory for very long, the next thing you knew he pulled you off his shoulders by one of your ankles and you were back to how you were being carried around before.

Your grip on his hat wasn’t strong enough to keep him from getting it back. Luffy fixed it back onto his head with an exaggerated huff. He gave you a “serious” stare that only caused you to giggle more.

“Mutiny is a serious crime, you know! You’re in trouble now!”

This made you stop instantly, eyes shooting wide and panic setting in. You were just playing, you didn’t mean to make him mad, much less mad enough to get you into trouble. The smile that had been plastered onto your face up until now fell and your lip began to tremble. You tried to keep a brave face and not be “an attention-seeking crybaby” as your parents put it, but your resolve wasn’t strong enough and tears started to well in your eyes.

Luffy’s demeanor switched just like that, and he started to panic right with you. “Whoa, hey, you don’t need to cry about it! I was just kidding! You’re not really in trouble!” You were shifted into an upright position and brought in for a hug. He was bouncing you slightly and patting your back (a little harshly, but you didn’t say anything about it).

You sniffled pitifully, “I’m not? You promise?”

“Yeah! I promise!”

“Okay…” you mumbled, rubbing at your eyes with your sleeve to try and stop the tears that had begun to drip down your face.

“Luffy you- Why is she crying?!” Nami had finally made it up to the crowsnest, only to be horrified upon seeing your teary-eyed expression. She barely had a leg in before aggressively taking you into her arms and smacking Luffy’s head.

“Crying?!” Sanji popped up behind her a moment later. He took a second to confirm that it was indeed you that was crying, and then went after Luffy like a rabid dog. “How dare you make the little lady cry!”

“Hey, I didn’t do it on purpose! We were just playing around!” Luffy shot himself backwards, tumbling over the edge to escape Sanji’s pursuit. Sanji didn’t hesitate to leap down after him. They both hit the ground with a series of thuds and you heard Zoro saying some swear words. Did they land on him?

Nami was rocking you back and forth and scowling down at them, muttering under her breath about them being a bunch of idiots. When she switched her attention to you, her face softened, “Are you okay, Lucky? Our dumb captain didn’t hurt you, did he?”

You shook your head, “No, I’m okay. He just said I was in trouble for mutiny but then said he was joking so I guess I’m fine.”

“Mutiny?”

“I stole his hat and tried to be the captain,” you admitted to your crimes sorrowfully, still ashamed of your actions even though Luffy said that you weren’t in trouble.

Nami snorted at this, but coughed and tried to hide it, “Yeah, don’t worry about it, honey. I’m sure he was just joking around with you, but I’m still going to yell at him later for making you cry.” She rubbed your back reassuringly, offering you her sweetest smile, “Are you hungry? How about we get you something to eat.”

“Hmm, okay,” you conceded, food sounded pretty good right about now. There was something that was bothering you though, “Hey Nami? How come everyone keeps calling me Lucky?”

Realization flashed across her face, “Oh right! You remember how we said that you’ve been traveling with us for a while now when you first woke up here? Well, you see, you haven’t been able to remember your name so we’ve just been calling you a nickname.”

“Why can’t I remember my name?”

She scowled at the memory, “Because our stupid captain “accidentally” hit your head when you first met and made you forget everything.” Shaking her head to dismiss the thought, she focused her attention back on you, “But now you do have your memories! Why don’t you tell me your name?”

You mulled this over in your head, feeling a little unsure of this crazy story. Nami was staring at you with anticipation, so you made up your mind quickly. “Nope!” You stuck your tongue out at her mischievously, “It’s a secret!”

She gasped and held a hand to her chest in mock betrayal, “Lucky! Come on, please tell me! If you do, I'll keep it a secret, too!” 

“Nuh-uh! I’m not telling!” You nodded resolutely, enjoying having a secret of your own. It felt so powerful!

Nami sulked her shoulders upon seeing the determination in your eyes, knowing she wasn’t going to win this one for the time being. She sighed and began climbing down the rope ladder to the deck, “Fine, you win for now.” She looked over to where Sanji was still fighting with Luffy (and also Zoro for some reason?) and called out to him, “Hey Sanji, Lucky is hungry!”

Immediately, he violently shoved both crewmates away from him and turned to you two with a slightly disheveled appearance. While attempting to straighten out his clothes and hair, he grinned warmly at you, “How could I be so careless as to not check if you were hungry myself? What’s your favorite food? I’ll make anything you want to make up for it.”

“Really? Anything?” Your eyes were sparkling and you felt your mouth watering as all of your favorite foods flashed through your head.

“Yes, anything,” he repeated back.

You squealed in excitement and clambered into his arms once he was close enough, “You’re the best, mister Sanji!” As you began to rattle off some of your favorites, Sanji was clutching at his chest and trying his damnedest not to give out from how cute this was.

“That sounds good! I want some of that, too!” Luffy popped up at his side, eyeing his cook expectantly.

Sanji’s dopey expression twisted into a scowl and he swung his leg at him, “You don’t get any, stay out of my da-” he cleared his throat, “out of my kitchen.”

Luffy dodged it with a practiced ease and kept following anyway, tacking on other foods he thought Sanji should make while he’s at it. All of it was meat.

You swung your feet happily, watching the interaction. You don’t really understand how your grown up self got to know these people, or how you got turned into a child. Seriously, what’s a devil fruit? But, you think you get why you wanted to be with them despite getting hit on the head by one of them. They seem like fun and nice people.

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #yandere one piece #monkey d luffy #luffy #roronoa zoro #sanji #black leg sanji #usopp #nami #cat burglar nami #one piece nami #luffy x reader #mokey d luffy x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #nami x reader #zoro roronoa #usopp x reader #sanji x reader #platonic yandere #lucky break #little lucky au

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Self Control.

Javi keeps refusing himself what he wants. One night puts everything into perspective.

Pairing - Javier Peña x female reader

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - Cursing, mentions of blood and death

Word Count - 3429

Author's Note - hello lovely people, hope you're all well. i've been a huge fan of pedro pascal since his narcos days, so all of this love for him happening currently is making me very happy. javier peña is perhaps my favourite tv character of all time, so i'm very excited to share this story with you. i'd always love to write more javi stuff, so if you ever have any thoughts, please send them my way. i'm happy to write for all pedro characters actually!! as always, much love x

Masterlist. Requests.

It wasn't supposed to go like this. 

It was supposed to be simple. A routine raid. Get the information and go. 

How did it all go so wrong? 

Gunshots. Blood. A sea of green uniforms scattering the ground. Escobar had somehow known about it. He was taking no prisoners. 

The Search Bloc had lost men. The Colombian Police had lost men. You were just praying that you hadn't. 

Javier Peña and Steve Murphy were still out there. You had no idea if they were okay. They could be shot, bleeding out. Kidnapped. Or worse. 

No. 

You're driving yourself insane thinking of all the possible worse case scenarios. Your mind can't help but go there. It's instinct. 

You're sat waiting. Hoping. Praying. You've made your home at Javi and Steve's desks - they're more central to the action than your own. You're watching the front doors, sat in Javi's chair. It smells like cigarette smoke, and musk, and him. You let the familiar scent envelope you, allowing it to bring you comfort. You breathe him in. He'll be here soon. You know he will.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Javier Peña was a complicated man. An enigma. He was tough, but gentle. Rugged, but tender. Commanding, but reserved. He was one big juxtaposition. Impossible to read. 

Or so he thought. 

You came along, and challenged every single one of his existing beliefs. You turned him soft - more understanding, more empathetic. He'll tell you he hates it. He lies. 

You weren't supposed to be here. Not really. You'd followed your brother, a DEA agent, all the way from Texas to Colombia. He'd told you he was being sent to South America to assist with the Pablo Escobar situation, and you'd packed your bags without a second thought. You had no one else. Wherever he goes, you go. Except one place. 

He'd died two months into the job. Shot dead by Escobar's men, in a situation that he shouldn't have even been in. And all of a sudden, you were alone. Alone in an unfamiliar place. Alone in the world. 

Javier made sure that wasn't true. He took you under his wing like an injured baby bird, slowly but surely nursing you back to health. He'd been there, when Carrillo had told you the fate of your brother. He'd caught you in his arms when your knees had given out, held you like he was scared you were going to shatter into a thousand pieces. He was holding you together. He has been, ever since. 

You were just a secretary. The odd one out. The only woman. Looked down on. People pitied you, really. You heard the things they said. Even if you didn't understand, you heard. You could take a guess. 

The world was a terrifying place for a woman. It was a terrifying place in general. But it seemed to be less scary knowing that Javier and Steve were at their desks just across the precinct every day. Your safety blankets. Your protectors. Which is exactly why the thought of losing either of them was currently ripping you apart from the inside out.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Your eyes shot up every time the door opened. Slowly but surely, members of the Search Bloc filtered in - many of them bloody, and injured, but alive. You weren't taking your eyes off the entrance to the precinct. Not for a second. Not when any minute, Peña and Murphy could walk in, and everything would be okay again. Any minute now, you reassure yourself. Any minute now. 

You hear steel toe boots on the linoleum floor, and your breath hitches… but it’s Colonel Carrillo. He spots you from across the room and strides over, ignoring any pleas for his attention from the Search Bloc guys. He envelopes you in a hug - professionalism be damned.

“Are you okay?”, you ask when he pulls back. “What happened? I’ve been going insane listening over the radio.”

“I’m okay, mi amor. We’re still trying to figure out what went wrong. He knew, someone had to have told him.”

You’re just about to ask him about Murphy and Peña when he says,

“We got separated in the chaos. I don’t know where they are, but I’m sure they’re fine. Try not to panic, okay?”

He’s looking at you carefully, and you’re nodding, but you know you aren’t going to take his advice. If anything, now you’re panicking more. Men are filtering through the door every minute, but none of them are the two you’re looking for. Anxiety creeps into your stomach, wraps its claws around your insides. You can’t shake it. You feel like you’re being swallowed by dread - it’s all too familiar. You know exactly what it’s like to have someone you love go into the field and not return.

Carrillo strokes your cheekbone with his thumb gently, and leaves to attend to his men. You sit back down in Javi’s chair, trying to burrow into his scent, the warmth of the leather. You can imagine his big strong arms wrapping themselves around you, the way he nuzzles his nose into the crown of your head when he hugs you, how he traces patterns on your back when he holds you when you’re particularly upset. 

You think about Steve, and the way he winks at you when you catch eye contact across the room, or how he throws an arm around your shoulders whenever he sidles over to your desk to bother you. He’s always stealing candy from your top drawer, and then acting innocent when you call him out on it. You feign annoyance, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. You know you’re lucky to have the two of them looking out for you. You know you’re lucky to have Carrillo on your side too - life would be undoubtedly more difficult without his protection. They make you feel less vulnerable, more equal. You no longer feel like a lamb at the slaughter every time you walk into work. 

Drops of water hit your lap, and you realize you’re crying. Warm, wet tears slide down your cheeks, taking streaks of your mascara with them. Your lipstick has smudged where you’ve been peeling at the skin of your lips, and your nail polish has been incessantly picked at for hours. You know you look just as much of a mess on the outside as you feel on the inside. You close your eyes, and take a deep breath. Calm down, you tell yourself. You’d know if something bad had happened to them. You’d feel it. 

It’s as if time has become molten - sticky, warm molasses. Minutes feel like hours. The world is moving in slow motion, and it’s making you dizzy. Your breath is coming in short, sharp pants, and the urge to curl up into a ball grows stronger by the second. If the boys don’t show up soon, you’re convinced you’re going to crumble into a thousand pieces. You feel like you’re shattering, splitting apart at the seams. Fear sits on your chest like an ugly, relentless creature, choking you with each passing minute. The world is getting colder, darker, and you’re defenseless.

And just like that, your sun appears. Battered, bruised, bloody, but alive. Standing in the doorway, panting and breathless, is Javier Peña. Before you can register what’s happening, you’re leaping out of his chair, and practically running to close the distance between you. You collide with the solid mass of a man, and he wraps his arms around you like it’s second nature. He smells like cigarettes and musk and gunpowder and the outdoors and smoke and home. Relief fills your body, and the weight of it almost knocks you off your feet. You settle further into his chest like you belong there, pressing your nose into him and inhaling. 

You pull away, and notice that his chest is damp. The tears from before are back with a vengeance, sprinting their way down your cheeks, forming puddles wherever they can reach. You’re not sure if you’re crying due to happiness, or fear, or relief - perhaps a mixture of all three. You’re both still panting, looking at each other in disbelief. You fist your hands into the front of his shirt, as if to ground yourself to him. Checking he’s real. In the flesh.

“Don’t cry, cariño. I’m here. I’m okay. We’re okay.” 

He’s murmuring quietly to you, as if you’re the only two people in the room. He reaches out, and gently uses his thumbs to swipe away the tears that are still escaping. Cradling your face in his big, calloused hands, he looks at you earnestly.

“I’ll always come back, bonita. You know I will. Just like I promised.”

He presses his forehead to yours, and for the first time in hours, you relax. You stay pressed together like that for what feels like an eternity, until you hear familiar footsteps approaching. 

You break away from Javier to get a good look at Steve. He too is battered and bruised - hair mussed, shirt torn, blood staining his jeans and his hands. But he’s alive. That’s all that matters.

“Murphy,” you breathe, before wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. You’d go out there and take down Escobar yourself if you could. If it meant you didn’t have to see your friends in pain anymore. This job is killing you all from the inside out, slowly but surely. You’re all shells of yourselves. You wonder how much longer you’re all going to be able to cope before you snap. You have a feeling that these two men in front of you are closer to their breaking points than you think. 

“God, I need to shower. I’ve never sweat this much in my life,” Steve remarks, and now that you’re looking at him, you can’t help but agree. You nod, smirk etched on your face, and the corners of his lips turn up. A slight smile from Steve. That’s a win.

A voice rumbles from behind you in response to Murphy’s statement. Jesus, Javi was closer to you than you thought.

“Yeah, me too. You go. I’ll drive her home.” He places a hand on the small of your back, and you can feel the warmth of him seeping through his palm.  He always runs so hot, you think to yourself. Your sun.

Murphy squeezes your arm and heads out the door, leaving you and Javier standing in the middle of the precinct. Everyone seems to be heading home, the room becoming increasingly quiet. You figure the two of you should follow suit. You gesture at Javi to give you a minute, and make your way over to the Colonel’s office, popping your head in the doorway. 

“You should go home, Carrillo,” you say softly. “You need to sleep just as much as the rest of us.”

He smiles at you tentatively, his face dampened with worry. You can see clear as day that he’s blaming himself for the events of the evening. You also know that there’s nothing you can say to make it better.

“I will, querida. I will.”

And with that, you grab your things from your desk, and make your way over to where Javi is waiting for you. He returns his hand to the small of your back, and guides you to his car.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Your hands are shaking when you try to unlock the front door to your apartment. You can’t quite get the key in the lock, and it’s becoming frustrating. Why are you acting like you were the one being shot at tonight? All you had to do was sit at your desk and wait. Get a grip, you tell yourself. You’ve had it the easiest.

Javi can see you’re struggling, so he reaches out and opens the door for you. You step inside, immediately kicking off your heels and throwing down your purse. You turn on the lamp in the corner of the living room, and draw the blinds. All the while, Javi stands in the doorway, watching you complete your nightly rituals. It’s disarming to see you like this, he thinks. So domestic. So at peace.

He clears his throat awkwardly, and places his hand on the doorknob.

“Let me leave you alone, cariño. You need to rest. The adrenaline of tonight is going to wear off any minute, and we’re all gonna crash.”

He takes a step, but you lunge forward in his direction to stop him.

“Wait! Wait. I - I don’t… I can’t - please.” You can’t find the right words. In fact, you’re not even sure what you’re asking for.

He steps back inside your apartment, and shuts the door behind him gently, making sure to lock the deadbolt. He’s never been a man to take stupid chances when it comes to your safety. When it comes to you.

“What is it, mi amor?”, he asks carefully. “What do you need?”

“You,” you answer without a second thought. “Please don’t leave. I don’t think I’ll sleep tonight if you leave.”

He looks at you for a moment - carefully surveying. He takes in your appearance, the pain in your eyes, the way you look so small and fearful standing in front of him. It’s not even a question.

He kicks off his boots, and takes his wallet and his cigarettes out from the back pocket of his jeans, placing them on the counter. Then, he strides over, across the room, and smothers you in a hug that he’s convinced he probably needs more than you. 

You stand like that, embraced in each other, for what feels like forever. Two people breathing each other in, trying to absorb the other person. If you could crawl into Javier’s chest, bury yourself into his ribcage, you would. No hug is ever close enough. Never enough. It’s never enough.

“I’ll stay,” he murmurs into your hair. “I’ll always stay.”

You pull back to gaze into those big brown eyes, warm and sweet like chocolate. He looks serene, peaceful, almost. You don’t get to see him like this very often.

“You should shower,” you tell him quietly. You’re worried that you’re going to spook one another, so you both keep the volume to a minimum. “I’ll make us some tea.”

He nods gently, and makes his way to your bathroom. Moments later, you hear the water running, so you begin to boil the kettle, reaching for two mugs from your cabinet.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You place a mug of tea on each nightstand either side of your bed, and slip out of your skirt and blouse. You opt for a tank top and shorts - the Colombian heat still unrelenting, even in the early hours of the morning. The sun will be up soon, you think. A new day.

Javi stands in the doorway of your bathroom with a towel slung low on his hips. Droplets of water are journeying down his chest, and your eyes follow, as if on instinct. He smirks when he catches you, watching your face heat up slightly.

“Cute bedsheets,” he remarks. “I like the love hearts.”

He’s still smirking, so you get up to smack him on the arm.

“Shut up, Javier,” you threaten, with no real malice. “Your tea is on the nightstand.”

You turn your back when he changes back into his black boxers, which only amuses him further. He can’t help but admire you from his place across the room. The way your hair blows slightly with the breeze from the opened window, the band of skin between where your tank top ends and your shorts begin, the sweat at the nape of your neck. He knows you’d taste like salt and sugar simultaneously. It takes everything in him not to run his tongue up your spine. You shiver from your spot on the edge of the bed, as if you can read his mind.

“I’m dressed, querida,” he almost whispers. You turn around, and shamelessly let your eyes rake over his golden skin, wishing so badly to reach out and touch him. He’s wearing significantly less clothes than you expected. Not that you’re complaining.

He lays down carefully on one side of your bed, stretching himself out on his back. You turn off the lamp on the nightstand, and lay down on the other side, careful to keep some distance between the two of you. You thought that having him here would relax you, but it seems to be doing the opposite. You feel like your nerve endings are on fire - the room is too warm, you can’t seem to get your lungs to fill with air, you’re hyper aware of every little movement in the room. You’re on edge.

Javi’s breathing is deep, calculated. He’s trying to keep calm. Everything in him is screaming to reach out and touch you, to throw an arm around your waist, to tangle his legs in between yours. He’s not sure he’s ever shown this level of self control.

“Javi,” you breathe. “Relax, please. I can feel how tense you are from here.”

He takes a deep breath before he answers you.

“Sorry, mi vida. I’m just - I’m… I’m trying.”

“Trying?”

“Trying to use every inch of restraint that I have.”

Your breath hitches, and he hears it, clear as day.

“What for?” you whisper.

“To resist the urge to touch you.”

You’re breathing quicker now, and so is he. The air in the room is thick with tension - it’s a miracle you’re both still conscious. 

“You’ve never really been one to deny yourself of the things you want, Javi," you whisper. "You’re not usually the patron saint of self control.” 

And with that, he snaps. He grabs your hips, and uses effortless strength to pull you so you’re straddling him, settled in his lap. He sits up to bring your faces level, and presses his forehead into yours, just like he did mere hours ago in the precinct. 

You know that tonight has changed everything for the two of you. You also know there’s no going back from this - you can’t uncross this line. The friendship that exists between you and Javi, a relationship that’s been so carefully built on trust and support and boundaries - permanently altered if you continue. You just can’t seem to find it in you to care. Not really. You want Javier Peña for all he is, all he has. Consequences be damned.

“I love you, cariño,” he breathes into your mouth. “Fuck, I love you.”

You’re convinced that any minute, you’re going to wake up from this beautiful dream. But for now, you make the most of it.

“I love you, Javier Peña. I love you so much it hurts.”

And with that, he’s kissing you. It’s desperate, and it’s needy, and it’s so full of love you’re worried that you’re going to pass out. His lips are on your lips, and he’s got one hand firmly at the nape of your neck, holding you in place. As if I’m going anywhere, you think. I’d happily stay here forever.

You’re so lost in each other that you don’t notice the sunrise. Dawn hits the window, casting an orange hue across the room. Javi looks like he’s glowing, the sunlight glinting off his hair. Golden boy.

He pulls off your shirt, and presses his chest to yours. He’s convinced you’re tethered to each other - he can feel the connection through your skin. It almost makes him want to cry, this feeling. It’s never felt like this before. It never will again. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, and your legs around his waist, ensuring that there isn’t a centimeter of space between you. You don’t know what today holds. You know it won’t be easy. But you’re comforted by the fact that you know Javi will be right there beside you. No matter what happens from this moment on, Javi is always going to be right there beside you.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” you breathe into his mouth.

“I love you, mi alma,” he breathes back. “Mi corazón, mi alma.”

My heart, my soul. It’s as if he took the words right out of your mouth. 

Mi corazón, mi alma.

My heart, my soul.

#javier peña #javi pena #javier pena x you #narcos #pedro pascal #javier pena fic #javier pena x reader #javier peña x reader #javier peña x ofc #javier peña x y/n #javier peña x you #steve murphy #javier peña fic #javier Peña x oc #fluff #reader insert #narcos fic #narcos x reader #steve murphy x reader #horatio carillo x reader #fanfic #pedro pascal x reader #female reader #javier peña smut #javier Peña x reader smut #pedro pascal characters #joel miller #joel miller x reader

[from-the-clouds]

texas sun - joel miller x f! reader - vol. v

series masterlist | series playlist | writing masterlist | previous chapter | photo cred

chapter summary: You knew yourself, and the way that you could get hung up on the right kind of person. Joel was that kind of person. But you don’t like how formal this feels. So real. -- In other words, Joel takes you on your first date. pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader words: 8.6k chapter warnings: SMUT, 18+ ONLY (it's happening, folks!) - unprotected sex, please dm if you want specifics but I’m not trying to spoil too much. If you don't want to read the smut, it doesn't happen until about halfway through the chapter. Crying after sex. Angst. FLUFF. Mentions of anxiety & self-doubt, alcohol consumption.  a/n: Help! I can’t stop writing fit checks into this story!! This ended up being insanely horny but also shockingly sweet. I worked way way way too hard on it so please say nice things to me. Might need to take a couple days off because I'm really feeling burnt out. So please enjoy in the meantime.

-May 16, 2003-

Joel doesn’t like lying to Sarah.

Although, he’s not sure that he’s lying to her as much as he is simply….omitting information. Depending on who you ask, that could still be considered lying.

He’s fresh out of the shower when he steps into the living room, fishes through the catch-all basket located just inside the front door, and pockets his wallet and keys.

“Where are you going?” 

Sarah’s lounging on the couch, on her back, one of her hands slung behind her head. There’s a book opened on her lap, but she’s not reading. “You’re all dressed up.”

Joel looks down at his green flannel shirt, tucked into a pair of dark jeans. Truth be told, he’s a little ashamed he doesn’t have anything nicer in his closet. It’s not like he ever has any occasion to dress up, but he’s already feeling self-conscious and being (most likely) underdressed isn’t helping. Based on the very limited information he knows about your past relationships, you’re probably accustomed to crisp dress shirts, ties, blazers. He doesn’t own any of those things — he did, at one point, have the tux from his wedding, but he’d gotten rid of it after the divorce. Every time he saw it in the back of his closet, it made him sick. Regardless, tonight he’d done the best he could otherwise - showered, trimmed his beard, and even dug through his medicine cabinet for an old – probably expired – bottle of cologne. Hopefully it was enough. 

“I’ve uh….I’ve got a date.” Joel says. 

The theme song from That’s So Raven is blaring through the living room, but it immediately cuts out as Sarah presses mute and sits up entirely from her spot on the couch. “Really?”

“Don’t act so surprised,” Joel says. “Your uncle is coming over, though, he’s gonna drop me off and then he said he’d take you to the movies.”

As if on cue, he hears Tommy’s truck pull into the drive. “Yes!” Sarah leaps up from the couch. “I have to change first.”

“Hurry up, babygirl, I’m already runnin’ behind,” Joel calls after her. 

Tommy knocks twice on the front door before letting himself in anyways. 

“You’re late,” Joel informs, shutting the door behind him. They should’ve left five minutes ago, and the last thing Joel wants is for you to think he’s not punctual. To be fair, he’s not, and almost never is. But you don’t need to know that….yet. 

“Hello to you, too,” Tommy trails after him into the kitchen. Joel is tempted to chug a beer, or fish the half-empty bottle of whiskey he’s got in the cabinet out to take a shot — just to take the edge off. But he refrains. It wouldn’t be a good look to show up smelling of booze.

“So…who's the lucky lady?” When Joel doesn’t answer right away, Tommy presses. “Come on, Joel, who is it?” 

He contemplates telling his brother the truth, but he doesn’t want to give him the idea that he had taken his advice. He didn’t. Well maybe he did, but he knows Tommy will become insufferable if he finds out. 

“Is it who I think it is?” Tommy asks. “It better be.”

Unfortunately, Tommy knows him too well. They’re brothers, and really, Joel’s first and oldest friend. The answer is written all over his face. 

Tommy grins. “Fucking finally. Oh my god, dude, I thought you’d never-”

“Alright, alright!” Joel interjects, eyes darting nervously up the stairs, where he hears his daughter shuffling around in her bathroom. “Keep your mouth shut, I haven’t told Sarah yet.” 

Tommy raises his hands in defense, but at least seems to understand how serious Joel is. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna say anything. Are you excited?”

“Yeah,” Joel looks down at the countertop, and is compelled to be honest with his little brother. “I’m uh….I’m a little nervous, though. Been awhile since I’ve done anything like this.” 

Tommy grows serious. “Do you want my advice?” 

“Yours?” Joel feels like whatever advice he has to offer is likely questionable, particularly with someone like you. “No thanks. I’d rather make a good impression.”

His brother ignores the subtle dig. “You sure? Because unlike you, I actually go on dates. I mean, it’s been what, like….ten years?” He crosses his arms, pretends to think. It’s probably only been a couple of months since the last time Joel took someone out, and Tommy knows it, but he loves to dramatize. “I mean at this stage, you’re basically a born-again virgin. Do you even remember how to put on a condom?” 

Joel crosses his arms and glares at his brother, who begins giggling at his bad joke. “I knew I shouldn’t have fucking said anything to you,” he shakes his head.

“Oh come on Joel, you’ll be fine,” Tommy says. “Really. She’s into you. I could tell when we were all together the other night. Even when I was dancing with her, I kept catching her lookin’ your way…”

“Yeah, well….” Joel rubs the back of his neck to play off the surge of warmth he gets from this information. “Thanks.”

Sarah’s bathroom door opens, and he hears the staccato beat of her sneakers coming down the stairs. Joel points at Tommy one last time. “Not a word, understand?” 

Tommy nods just as she rounds the corner.

“Uncle Tommy!” Sarah raises her hand to give him a high-five, which they both purposely miss so they can collide palms on the downswing, grab each other’s hands and then begin a secret handshake so complex that Joel, who has seen it a thousand times, still doesn’t think he could execute correctly if he tried.

“How’s my favorite niece?” 

“I’m your only niece.” 

“Touche,” they shoot at each other with finger guns before she wraps him in a hug and Tommy presses his nose to the top of her head. Despite the fact that their little routine is costing Joel precious time, almost all the annoyance he’d been feeling with his brother dissipates at the sight.

“We all ready?” Tommy asks her, then points at him. “Don’t want to make this casanova late.”

“Yeah, of course not,” Sarah looks over at Joel with a smile that doesn’t seem entirely sincere. When she was younger and he’d gone on dates, she always had a lot more questions. Who is it? What is she like? When can I meet her? Is she pretty? Over the years, however, she became less and less interested. It was because she was smart, and had caught onto the pattern - he’d go on a date, maybe one or two more, then there’d be a long period of nothing before the cycle repeated itself every couple months. It rarely developed into anything that would concern her, and Joel always kept the details to himself.

While they’re en route to the restaurant – a little French bistro that had opened up recently — Sarah and Tommy bicker about what movie they want to see.

“I wanna see Holes. I just read the book.”

Tommy grimaces. “What about Matrix Reloaded? It just came out.”

“I already told dad I’d go to that with him.”

“So?” he looks between Sarah and Joel. “Why can’t you just see it twice?”

“No,” Sarah says emphatically. “I have to see it with dad first. It’s not fair.” 

Tommy groans, mutters under his breath. “I can’t believe you let her watch that crap,” as if he wasn’t about to do the same thing.

“She likes it,” Joel shrugs.

“All the more reason to see it tonight.”

“Tommy,” Joel warns. 

“Fine.”

“I don’t really like it, though. I just like to keep dad company so he doesn’t have to see it alone.”

“You’re too nice,” Tommy takes a beat. “Are you sure you aren’t adopted?”

“Shut up,” Joel and Sarah answer at the same time, and Joel holds his palm behind him for his daughter to slap. 

Tommy acquiesces, his truck jolting as it pulls into the parking lot of the restaurant. Joel’s heart rate picks up immediately. The car rolls to a stop and Joel turns to look at both of them. “Alright, I’ll be home by midnight.”

“Sounds good,” says Sarah. 

“Have fun,” Tommy raises his eyebrows, winks, and thankfully Sarah doesn’t see it, because she’s getting out of the truck to take Joel’s spot shotgun. He makes sure she’s settled with her seatbelt on before he shuts the door.

He isn’t trying to waste time, but Joel watches them pull out of the lot and back onto the street before he goes inside the restaurant. Really, he just needs a minute to collect himself. There’s no good reason for him to be as anxious as he is, he’s already kissed you once, and you had seemed to like it — quite a lot too. For the past week the feeling of your body pressed up against him, legs around his torso, was pretty much all he thought about when his mind wandered. Mostly at night before bed, and even today, in the shower when he was getting ready - just to try and calm down. Even now, the idea leaves him flustered.

Nevertheless, this probably isn’t even technically a first date. He hasn’t had issues speaking to you in the past, so this should be easy. Right? But what if you change your mind? And what if it dawns on you that he’s not your type? Even worse, what if you realize he’s just not good enough? 

Joel forces himself inside before he talks himself out of this. When he enters, he sees you first. You’re across the room, leaning over the small bar where a few other patrons are. Greedily, he takes you in, and it’s easy to trace your figure in the tight black shift dress you’ve got on, sheer black tights underneath. It’s sleek, stylish - not that Joel knows much about that. As usual, you stand out in stark contrast to every other person in the place. He likes it. But he feels underdressed. He’ll look ridiculous standing next to you, and he briefly considers turning around, leaving, and saving himself the embarrassment.  

That’s until you move, angling yourself towards him and scanning the restaurant, an elbow resting on the bar, a hand on your knee. You’re looking for him, waiting for him, and finally, you’re rewarded when your eyes catch. Suddenly, Joel doesn’t care about what he’s wearing. He doesn't care that he’s not good enough. At the very least, he doesn’t have to guess if you’re interested in him anymore, not with how you’re gazing at him — a soft smile and narrowed eyes that betray your enthusiasm. Sure, he's not good enough, but he decides if he’s going to go down in flames, he’ll do it trying to convince you otherwise.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Maybe I should’ve eaten a proper lunch, you think to yourself. You’ve barely touched the drink in your hand, but you’re already starting to feel it. And even though you are the designated driver tonight, for now, the slight buzz is welcome, working to soothe. 

Over the years, you’d been on your fair share of first dates. Unlike most…you don’t hate them. For whatever reason, getting to know new people had always come easy, particularly if they were the right person. Being a lawyer, you had a knack for talking yourself into or out of almost anything. So it was just as easy to let someone know if they weren’t the right person. The best part of first dates, however, was that they lacked all the things you hated — promises, expectations, and conversations that went deeper than general pleasantries. 

So all things considered, you shouldn’t feel as tense as you do right now.

There’s a few factors that might have something to do with it, and your brain turns them over,  biding your time until your date arrives. 

First is the text that sits opened on your BlackBerry.

Dad’s home from the hospital. Doing better. Call when you can. - Vince

Your father has been in and out of the hospital for the last month or so, his health rapidly declining. But every update from your brother, however innocent they may be, feels like veiled threats. You should be here. You should know this. I shouldn't have to text you about it. I can’t believe I’m the only one looking after him. A part of you wants to believe that Vincent wouldn’t play that sort of game with you, but as you’ve gotten older and grown apart, you’d gotten worse at deciphering his motivations. Vaguely, you acknowledge that you could just be projecting, and you are the only one trying to make you feel bad. 

And then there’s Joel. 

He’s running late, you hope, or he’s stood you up. And you have already promised yourself that you’re only gonna wait ten more minutes before heading home with your tail tucked between your legs. The thought of that makes you regret agreeing to this in the first place. You’d already embarrassed yourself the last time you were together, practically begging him to take you on the kitchen countertop, but he’d insisted on doing this right. You should’ve pushed harder because you’re starting to think that maybe, just maybe….a zipless fuck would’ve sufficed. Oh, who were you kidding? You knew yourself, and the way that you could get hung up on the right kind of person. Joel was that kind of person. But you don’t like how formal this feels. So real. 

He knows you better than most first dates do. You’ve told him more about your family, about your fucked up childhood, about your aversion to committed relationships more than any friend you’ve made since moving to Texas. And he listened. It should make you feel better. He knows what he’s getting himself into, and he asked you here anyways. Maybe he’s having second thoughts. 

For what feels like the thousandth time, you check your emails and take a sip of your dirty martini – your preferred vehicle for alcohol consumption. Ultimately, you like the idea of a martini more than the actual taste, but you appreciate how direct they are. You scan the restaurant one last time, doing your best to look casual, like you don’t really care. Like you’re supposed to be there alone. 

But when your head turns towards the entrance, Joel is standing across from you. 

He gives you a bashful smile, one that makes your stomach flip, and makes his way over – though he doesn’t seem to be in a rush. It’s like he knows you’d sit and wait for him for as long as it takes – you would, you will, you are. 

When he finally lands in front of you, one thumb hooked in the belt loop of his dark-wash jeans, he leans forward and presses his lips to your cheek for the briefest moment, and pulls back, looking you up and down. 

“It’s good to see you, darlin’,” he murmurs softly. The term of endearment makes your ears feel hot. You're shocked at the effect he has on you, almost can’t believe it. It scares you, too, but you want to chase the feeling. “You look great.”

“So do you,” because you’re not one to lie. He does. As good as always, but he might’ve trimmed his beard for the occasion and maybe….put on cologne? It’s hard to tell, and in your brief experience being so close to him, he’s always smelled good regardless. 

“Sorry I’m late,” he apologizes. “Can’t count on Tommy to get me anywhere on time.”

“It’s alright,” you say casually, like you hadn’t had your whole exit strategy planned out just minutes ago. “I got to have a drink while I wait. You want something?” you gesture towards the bartender. 

“Sure,” Joel answers. “How about an old fashioned?” There’s no room for him to sit, so he leans next to you, arm on the bartop, invading your personal space while you wait for your table. Your skin buzzes like you’ve never been this close to a man before in your life. Pathetic. 

He orders his drink before he speaks to you again. “Have you been here before?” he asks. 

You shake your head no. “I was planning on coming a couple months ago but….never got around to it.”

“It’s good,” he says. “I’ve been a couple times.”

“Is this where you take all the girls you go out with?” you raise an eyebrow, grateful that your voice sounds even despite the way your blood is fizzing, your heart pumping so fast you can feel it in your ears. 

Joel shakes his head no. “That’s down the street.”

“Oh?” you nod, sip your drink. Whatever buzz you’d been feeling is gone in the wake of adrenaline. “So….why didn’t you take me there, then?”

“It’s not as nice,” Joel smirks, leaning in a little closer – if it were possible. His lips are practically touching your ear, and his voice is raspy for what comes next. “And I’m trying to impress you.” 

“Right,” you can’t help but smile, pulling back so you can lock eyes. He’s so sincere you can’t even think up a clever quip in return. “How thoughtful.” 

He gives you a cheeky grin. You want to touch him, want to hold him, want to fist the front of his shirt or tug on the hair at the back of his neck and stick your tongue down his throat like you aren’t surrounded by an entire restaurant of patrons. 

It’s going to be the longest fucking dinner of your life. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You survive. 

But at a cost. 

And you don’t learn anything new about Joel, except for the fact that your memory hasn’t exaggerated how charming he is, how charismatic, how thoughtful. All the times you’d allowed yourself to daydream about him didn’t hold a candle. Enjoying the meal is difficult, because you just want to get him alone. He can sense it – you’re pretty sure, because he orders himself a coffee after dessert, and sips on it ever-so-slowly, smirking at you over the rim of the mug.

When dinner’s over, you offer to drive Joel home, since he’d gotten a ride here. By this point, the martini is long gone from your system and you sort of want to pour yourself another when you get home. Even if you don’t drink much, the nerves have resurfaced. 

He walks a few paces behind you as you leave the restaurant, taking his time, and you step to your side of the car, making to unlock it – until something grabs your bicep – briskly – and spins you around. 

It’s Joel. He snuck up behind you, you hadn’t heard, and he’s right in front of you now, pinning you between the car and his body, surrounding you entirely. He lifts a hand, cups your cheek, and kisses you. It happens so fast you let out a whimper of surprise – directly into his mouth, but he swallows it down, and cradles you so gently, but still firm. Resolute. I’m not letting you go.

When he pulls back, you notice his cheeks are flushed, ever so slightly. It makes you wonder what you could do to see them get even redder. Your arms have found their way to rest on his shoulders, and you’re boxed in, the handle to your car door digging into your ass. Without a word, just a cheeky grin, he retreats to the passenger's side of the car and gets inside. 

You settle in the driver's seat beside him, and he looks over at you. “Hope that was okay, I couldn’t wait…” he says, almost apologetically. “But I was tryin’ all night to be good.”

“Yeah, well….not much use in that anymore,” you tilt your head. “Do you want to….hang out at my place?”

“Yeah, we can ‘hang out’ at your place,” Joel quips.

Scoffing in mock offense, you offer a retort. “What would you rather me have said? Come over for a nightcap? That’s a little cliche.”

He grimaces, as if he’s in agreement. You continue. “Or would you rather I be more direct? Joel, why don’t you come over so we can have sex?”

That makes him laugh, loudly, and it’s such a warm, comforting sound, you wish you could find a way to capture it and hear it over and over again. “Oh, is that what’s going to happen?” he asks. 

“Guess we’ll find out,” You shrug, trying to play it off, in case you overstepped. Then you focus on putting the keys in the ignition without fumbling. 

It’s not a long drive back to your place, but Joel seems determined to make sure it feels like it is. Either that, or he’s trying to get you to cause an accident. First his hand is resting on the back of your neck, brushing through the hair at the base of your skull. Then it’s on your shoulder, his thumb pressing into your taut muscles. You actually have to bite your tongue so you don’t moan. It’s not even sexual, really, but it just feels good to be touched, especially by him.

Eventually, you hit a stoplight, and while you’re waiting, his hand continues to wander…and comes to rest just above your knee. His hands are fucking huge, first of all, which maybe you’ve noticed before, and there are a few scars and scratches on the backs of his knuckles. It's the weight of it, the warmth of it, the way he’s settled it so casually like it’s nothing – like it belongs there, and he doesn’t even have to ask. Of course he doesn’t. And the confidence, the cockiness. It feels like someone’s taken an arrow to the pit of your stomach, and something thick and hot starts curling down, down, down….

You swallow hard, and he’s looking at you. He doesn’t speak right away, just stares, something dark and unfamiliar in his eyes. 

“I hope I’m doing alright,” voice raspy, low, but still smooth as ever.

Shaking your head, you’re able to surface just enough over the haze of arousal. “You want a performance review?” you tease, giving a small smile. “We should hold off on that until later…” 

That makes Joel laugh again, your stomach flips, and his thumb begins to stroke your kneecap, his fingers kneading into the soft flesh, inching forward to clasp farther inward, nearly grabbing at you, squeezing. The only thing separating his skin from your own is a thin pair of stockings that end dangerously close to where his hand is working. If he finds out that he’s just a few centimeters away from meeting bare skin, you’re afraid of what could happen.

“Joel,” you warn.

“What?” he asks, voice light and innocent.

“You’re distracting me.” 

“You want me to stop?”

No. The light turns green, and you have to hold back the impulse to break every traffic law if it means you’ll get to have him just a second sooner. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“--my room is–” Joel cuts you off with another searing kiss, and it takes a second before you can conjure the self control to pull away again to finish the thought. “--down the hall.” 

“Yeah?” 

He’s got you crowded back against the entry closet of your house, hovering over you, one of his hands bracing itself beside your head, and the other slowly dragging down your body, his lips following….moving down your neck. 

“Uh-huh,” you barely can get it out between strangled gasps for air. 

And then he’s hooking his hands behind your knees. “Are you sure you don’t want, like-” Joel lifts you, and you lock your legs around his torso. “An amaretto or something?”

“No,” he’s gripping on to you so tightly it hurts, but you don’t mind. 

“I could put on….a record-”

“No,” he repeats, and you’re being carried down the hall. 

You hadn’t expected him to pounce on you the instant that you came in through the garage door. Not that you minded. It’s just that usually you’d play it a bit more coy. You’d set the mood, light a candle, have a chat. But, you suppose you don’t need to do anything to get you in the mood. You’re already there. 

Joel’s mouth never separates from you, not until you’re in your room. He’s so sure of himself, you think he might be the type to throw you into the mattress, climb on top of you and rip at the zipper on the back of your dress. But he doesn’t. You’re laid down delicately, like you’re made of glass, and he’s being careful not to break you. 

He weaves his thumb and forefinger around both your wrists, then pulls them up so they’re pinned above your head. This way, you’re completely at his mercy. When he lowers himself between your legs, and you feel the weight of his body pressed against you, you groan, fighting against the restraint, desperate to touch him. So you do the best you can and wrap your stocking-clad feet around his waist, trying to get some leverage, to bring him closer.

“Just wanna take my time with you, darlin’,” he murmurs softly, like he can read your mind. You’re starting to think he can – how else can he be so irresistible on his own accord?

Joel makes good on his promise. With you all docile beneath him, he takes the opportunity to kiss every inch of exposed skin available – even though you’re still fully clothed. Each press of his lips has you breathing unevenly – sighing, then gasping, then sharp, short inhales. When he finds a particularly sensitive spot on your neck, you can’t help but giggle and quirm. 

Joel huffs in response, releasing you from his hold, and he tilts his head to whisper in your ear. “Do you have any idea how much I like hearing that? Knowing it’s because of me?” Immediately, you lower your hands to cup his cheeks, to regard him. He can’t be serious. 

“You’re too sweet,” you mutter. 

“So are you,” he answers, and ducks his head to return to your neck. “So sweet, and so fucking pretty, too…” His hands begin wandering, one of them cupping your breast, thumb finding a peaked nipple even through the fabric of your dress and your bra. The words he’s saying are too much, you’ll do anything to make him shut up, arching your back so you can feel him – already hard – against your clothed core. 

“Joel-” 

“God, I want to see you-fuck!” he pulls back, rolls you over, and you shift your weight so he has access to the dress’ zipper at your side. He makes quick work of it, and brings you to a seated position, helping you remove it all the way before kissing you again, then abruptly stopping. He wants you so badly….but he’s trying to savor the moment. “Let me look at you for a second.”

He takes you in, the stockings you’re wearing and the matching set of black lace you’d picked out beforehand. Of course, you’d thought about this. You always did for occasions like this, but Joel had stumped you. What would he like? This….was pretty understated, but he seemed like a salt-of-the earth guy. Not what you were used to. It probably wouldn’t make a difference whether or not you were in full-on lingerie. And even if you knew he wouldn’t care, you still had wanted to impress him. All the more reason to try.

“This for me?” he asks, hooking his finger on the inside of your stockings and snapping the elastic. 

“Yeah,” you nod, honest. “I want you, Joel.” And there’s more to it, too. You’ve thought about just how badly for months. It kept you up at night, then helped you fall asleep when you couldn’t shake his image from your head. For now, you are going to keep that to yourself. But it doesn’t mean it’s not gonna slip out. Not when he’s looking at you like this. 

“Yeah?” he says, steps forward, towers over you. “I want you, too, so fuckin’ bad. So fucking pretty, baby,” Dropping back to your elbows, you feel…small. Any other time, you might sit up, try to feel some kind of control, but for whatever reason, you stay where you are.

Joel wasn’t exaggerating when he said he wanted to take his time. It’s frustrating. It’s torture. He worships you, makes sure his mouth is on nearly every part of your body before he finishes undressing you. Your ankles hook over his shoulders, his hands grazing, dragging thin nylon up and off each leg. He kisses your calves, the inside of your knees, your thighs. He uses one hand to unhook your bra and pulls it away. He spends what feels like hours with his mouth on your breasts – sucking, licking, nipping – hands cupping, grabbing, pinning you down. The whole time, he’s telling you how badly he wants you, how pretty you are, how good you’re being for him. He’s either touching you too much, or maybe not enough. It’s hard to say. Only after he’s reduced you to an incoherent, whimpering mess do you somehow find the strength to fight back. 

By this point, you’re lying in the middle of the bed, your leg hooked over his hip, the waistband of his jeans digging into bare skin. He’s still got all his fucking clothes on, which makes everything so much worse, because it’s clear whose in control here, and it’s certainly not you. 

The button of his flannel is where you start, and then you work downward. Joel doesn’t stop you at any point. You think he might, just because of how things have been going. But he’s as easy as you are, and you take him in all the same after you’ve shucked off his jeans, and he’s closer to your state of buff.

To be fair, you’ve spent enough time lingering by the windows – when he’s outside mowing the lawn shirtless, or picking up his newspaper in the morning, or doing workouts in his garage with the door open (such a tease!) – to have an idea of what to expect. He’s not ripped by any means but neither are you – and you’ve never liked that anyways. But it’s not hard to ascertain that he spends all day in the sun, lifting and hauling things around. His muscles are defined, rippling lightly under his skin with each panting breath he takes. Joel’s a spectacle – broad and tan, a line of dark hair dipping from his belly-button down into the waistband of his dark-gray briefs. You can make out the way his cock is straining against the fabric.

Once you’ve appraised him as best as you can – you can see that he’s studying you, almost like he’s anxious, like you might not like what you see. As if he doesn’t know. Ridiculous. You aren’t going to leave him guessing. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Joel,” you shake your head. “You’re a fucking stud.”

Joel’s face breaks out in a grin and he yanks you back so you’re on top of him, legs on either side of his chest. And finally, finally, you can touch him like you’ve been wanting. His skin is warm – it’s kind of hot in your room, you’d forgotten to turn on the A/C, so you’re both a little sweaty. But and it’s unclear if it’s because of the heat or just how worked up you are. It doesn’t matter, because it only turns you on even more. You trace the broad plane of his chest, hand snaking down…all the way to his boxers, but he stops you. 

He’d let you undress him, allowed it, but this…it crosses a line. Joel hooks his hands behind your thighs and begins to drag you up, up, up, while he shifts lower. It takes a second to register what he’s doing, and when it does, you try to stop it.

“Joel, wait I-” 

“I have to taste you darlin’, that okay?” His dark hair is fanned out around his head, resting on your floral pillowcase. In the dim light, his pupils are so blown out you can barely see anything else except black. “I’ll give you whatever you want, but you’ve gotta let me taste you first.”

It’s not that you don’t want it, but he’s taken you off guard, and you’re already overwhelmed by how intimate all this has been, gentle and languid while he whispers honeyed words into your ear. His mind seems already made up, and you don’t really want to tell him no.

“Alright,” you manage, and you grip the top of the headboard. 

It’s embarrassing how wet you already are. It started with his hand on your knee in the car, and you have spent the last hour clenching around nothing, squeezing your legs together and searching for friction. Anything. Well, you are about to get it.

Joel’s lips press to the insides of your thighs, once more, dangerously close to where you’re weeping for him. His nose bumps your clit when he turns his head, and you whine – hips sinking to seek the contact that he’s been denying you, and then immediately pulling back in a moment of clarity.

“No, no,” Joel’s hands immediately land on your hips to hold you in place, bringing you lower. “Stay right there for me.”

You don’t dare move. 

Finally, his mouth finds you. You think he might tease for a little bit, go slow, because he’s been doing that all night, and it’s become infuriating. But he doesn’t. He eats you out, laves at you. A hot, velvet tongue that works up a steady rhythm. It’s interrupted only by the vibration of his moans every so often, which only add to the pleasure. For a moment, you miss how he’d been talking to you before, but you’re so sensitive, so eager, that you think you’ll sacrifice anything if it means he’s not going to stop. Joel keeps you still with a bruising grip on your hips. All you can do is let him have his way and whimper his name over and over, listen to him groan in response. 

Being consistent is key for you. And Joel is nothing but. Practiced, but feral….like he’s been holding back all night. It’s been a long time, or maybe he’s just that excited, it’s hard to tell. Either way, it doesn’t matter. Can’t bring yourself to care about much more than him, the man below you working you over with just his mouth. 

“I’m…Joel, I’m-” you try to pull off again, it’s too much, but he doesn’t allow it. Even if the position he’s in is compromising, he’s managed to find a way to assert himself. The coil inside you has wound so tightly that almost every muscle in your body is tense. Now, can’t even move, not even if you wanted to, and he keeps going, your words have only made him more determined.

The coil snaps. You cry out, using the headboard to stifle your noises – not worried that it will probably leave a mark. If you get nothing else from Joel, then at least it will serve as a reminder that he was here, beneath you, lapping up everything you have to give him. The orgasm leaves you weak, trembling, but he holds you up, works you through it until the waves begin to cease, and then you’re so overstimulated, so sensitive that you start to feel lightheaded. “Fuck, Joel, I can’t-” You tug on his hair, hope he’ll get the hint and release you, but he doesn’t. If anything, it only spurs him on.

His mouth is white hot on you, his tongue damp, firm as it circles your clit and drags downward. He gives you nowhere to go, no opportunity to come down from the high, so within minutes, or seconds – at this point, you’ve lost track of time – he’s worked you up to the precipice of release, and you’re coming again, crying out to him.

At last, he eases off, lets you relax. You do, carefully, and so does he, gradually removing his mouth from you while your hand untangles from his dark curls. Joel holds you steady as he sits back against the headboard, keeping you splayed across his lap. You don’t waste your time saying something stupid like “you didn’t have to do that,” because you’re not gonna pretend you didn’t love every second, but mostly because you’re not sure you’re capable of speaking just yet. His hand catches your jaw, and he looks at you – innocently, like he hadn’t just done what he had done, like his fucking beard, and chin, and lips weren’t still wet with you. But the ornery glint in his eyes gives him away. “You liked that?” he has the audacity to ask. 

A shaky hand comes to pinch your eyebrows as you let out a weak laugh, nodding. “Yeah, Joel….yeah.”

“Good,” he answers. 

“I was right about you,” you manage. 

“Yeah?” He murmurs, and his hand skates up your arm, the other settling on your waist. It’s grounding, reassuring as your heart attempts to steady its beating. 

“You’re trouble.” 

“Yeah,” Joel murmurs, and he leans in close. “Only for you, pretty girl.” 

Your hips jolt back at the term of endearment, so much so that you feel the length of his cock, hard against your ass. It’s your turn to take care of him, but it shouldn’t be difficult, because your arousal is already building again. It’ll be much, much, easier to come again, specifically around him. Plus, right now, you are willing to do just about anything for him. You kiss him, and it’s sloppy, lick the taste of yourself out of his mouth. Heat curls again in the pit of your stomach, and you grind yourself down on him through his underwear.

Joel’s head falls back, bonks the headboard, and the thud of impact is overshadowed by his agonized moan. You reach down between your bodies, let your touch land over his clothed cock. He pants out your name. So many things you could do – with only your hand, or your mouth, but before you can decide, he speaks again.

“Wanna be inside you,” he grits out. “So fucking bad.” 

“You don’t want me to-”

“No,” he cuts you off. “No, no. I need you.”

“You can have me,” you nod, leaning forward to kiss his neck, pushing down the elastic of his underwear. Joel lets you, his hips stuttering, until he freezes. “Shit.” He reaches out to halt your movements.

You look up, his eyes are wide. “What is it?”

“I’m sorry, I uh, I left my wallet in the car,” Joel’s voice is pinched, palms leaving your body to press against his eyes, frustrated. “I brought condoms, but they’re - I’ll have to go get them.”

“I have some,” you pipe up, nodding towards your bedside table. Joel reaches for it, but it's your turn to stop him. “But I mean, I’m clean,” you say. “...And I have an IUD, so…” 

Joel pauses, stares at you under thick lashes. “You sure that…” So tentative. “....That’s okay with you?” 

You feel yourself smirk a little as you look at him. It’s not something you’d allow anyone to do. But you’re feeling a little lost in the moment. The part of your brain that usually tells you to run for the hills whenever things get too real has turned off. It’s not the first time he’s caused that, and you sort of enjoy the delusion. There’s no question. It’s Joel.  “Oh, yeah.”

The words ignite something in him that you weren’t entirely prepared for, and he’s pulling you hard against his mouth with one hand, while the other pushes his briefs down the rest of the way. You don’t get the chance to see him, to feel him, before he’s lining himself up with your slick cunt. 

It’s a soft glide of sensitive skin across sensitive skin, and you shake with anticipation. You don’t even know you have your eyes closed, focusing on the sensation, until you hear Joel’s voice. 

“Open your eyes,” he commands. “Please just-” he swallows hard. “I wanna watch you. So fucking pretty.” 

You obey, and he guides your hand to replace your own. It’s not until your hand wraps around him that you’re aware of just how thick his cock is, throbbing and leaking, and it makes you all the more eager. Slowly, you start to sink down, but it’s too challenging to take him all at once. So first, just the tip, you roll back to ease the sting, then gradually sink lower and low. 

Joel moves closer to you, holding his breath, guiding you along, propped back against the pillows. “That’s it, so fucking good, baby…”

You understand why he was moving so languidly earlier. This is meant to be enjoyed. After some time, and lots of praise, your hips settle flush with his own, and he’s seated fully inside of you. It’s a delicious stretch that your body isn’t fully ready to accommodate, but it has your toes curling and mouth hanging open, bearing down on him involuntarily. Under Joel’s watchful gaze you feel terribly, terribly exposed. 

“Keep going,” Joel encourages. So you move. It’s experimental at first, small ruts against him, getting used to the way it feels. It doesn’t take you long to find the spot that makes you abandon eye contact, throw your head back, and –

“Oh, Joel.”

“Yeah?” he asks, and he sounds strained, pinched – he’s holding back, but still enjoying every second. “That feel good?”

You nod furiously. He lets you find a rhythm that works for you, lets you take your time, and once you do, he starts to match your pace. His hands don’t stay in one place for very long. First, they’re resting gently on your ass. Then they’re cupping your tits, watching them bounce as they sway with your movements. He brings his knees up behind you, pressing his feet into the bed, and uses the leverage to fuck himself deeper each time you lower yourself onto him. 

At this point, you’re unaware of what types of noises you must be making, and you’re thankful that you’re alone so you can be as loud as you want. His cock is hitting places inside you that you didn’t know existed, and rolling across the same spot over and over and over. 

“You feel so perfect for me,” Joel says, his jaw clenched, his chest rising and falling. “So, so good, baby, so fucking pretty.” 

“Mm-hmm,” is all you can answer, nodding furiously and feeling yourself grow wetter and wetter with every thrust. 

You’re too easy for him. And you were too worked up to begin with. “Joel, I can’t-”

He slams his hips up into yours so hard you cut yourself off with a choked gasp. Then he does it again. “You gonna come for me?” he asks. “I can feel you, baby, I know it’s close.” 

“Y-yeah,” he’s got you stammering on your words. You’re clamping down onto him so tightly it hurts. But you’re so desperate to come, to feel what it’ll do to him, that you don’t stop.

“Come here,” he murmurs, hands around your waist, pulling you down so your lips are nearly touching. “Stay close to me.”

“Oh, fuck, oh-” The warmth of his body so close to yours, your hands bracing themselves on his chest, the comfort of his arms around you, all coupled with one vicious rut of his hips has you right there. Joel tilts your head back just enough so you’re forced to look directly at him – and then you come undone. 

You want to close your eyes, turn your head, but you’ve got nowhere to go, and he’s right in front of you. Joel’s touch slides up your back, draws you even closer, and you ride out your third orgasm of the night while pressed entirely against his chest, forced to be vulnerable in a way you’ve never been with anyone before. “So good, baby, so good. Such a good fuckin’ girl for me,” he praises you through it, works you through it, until you’re all but melted in his arms, and he still hasn’t pulled his eyes away.

Utterly spent, you know, distantly, somewhere, that he has to come. However, Joel takes over, flips you both so you’re underneath him, and presses himself deep into the cradle of your pelvis. He’s heavy on top of you, but the weight is somehow soothing.

“I thought about you,” you murmur, hoping it’ll help. His jaw is set, solely focused on his own release. “How good you’d feel.”

“Fuck, really?” he grunts. “I-I- did too.”

“Yeah?” you ask, feeling flush at the admission. “I thought about….letting y-you use me.”

Joel groans your name, curses loudly, ruts into you even harder. You can feel him throbbing, so fucking close, and you arch yourself up to meet him, pleasure already building again, even though you thought it wasn’t possible. 

“It’s so much better, Joel, you’re so much better–” 

Than I imagined. But you don’t have to finish the thought. The idea of you, thinking of him, seems to be enough as it is, and you feel him pulsing, warmth blooming and spreading out as he groans, throws his head back and spills himself impossibly deep inside you. If you weren’t utterly spent, the feeling of him coming – and nothing between you, probably would have set you off again. For now, it’s enough.

His whole body goes limp as he relaxes his arms from where they’re braced on either side of you, his head falling into the crook of your neck. You hear him take a few, haggard breaths once it’s over, and then a deep chuckle vibrates in your ear. “Fuck, baby.”

You rub his shoulder lightly to soothe him, and his lips find the underside of your jaw, kissing lightly his beard scratching your cheeks. For an undetermined amount of time, he remains there. Normally, you’d probably check his watch, but you’ve noticed that the one he always wears is broken, and really….you feel content.

Finally, Joel pulls away, cursing under his breath and withdrawing from you. He runs his hand through his hair, and flops on his back by your side, and you feel horribly empty. After he’s cupped your cheek, turning you gently to look at him – he gives you a tender, affectionate smile. 

It hits you like a freight train. 

He was not the type of man you dated. The men you dated liked to slap, choke, withhold. That had always been what you’d gotten off to. The more frenzied, the more impersonal – the better. That wasn’t to say Joel hadn’t been passionate. But you’d never experienced anything like this before.

You tear away from his gaze, focus on the ceiling. Heart pounding, threatening to break through your ribs, you feel your mouth dry up, your eyes burn and fuck – you’re about to cry. Try to turn yourself away from him, but he sees it. 

“You alright?”

“Yeah, just uh-” your voice catches on the lump forming in the back of your throat and cracks audibly, raw. 

“Hey– ” you hear the mattress shift, he’s moving closer, and you start to scramble. You’ve gotta leave. Get to the bathroom, compose yourself. “Where are you goin?”

“Joel, I just need to-” but his hand circles your wrist, and you don’t have the power to resist him. The bones of his hand press firmly in your cheek, turning your head so you have to look at him. There are tears in your eyes.  

“What’s wrong, baby? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Up close you can see that his eyes aren’t brown – they’re hazel. Mesmerizing, long lashes – gold and green rimming his irises. How had you not noticed that before? 

“No, no not at all it was just…” you’re talking so fast, not even sure where you’re going with the sentence. “I’m sorry, I liked it I just-I don’t know,” you stutter. Shaking your head, you cover your face. You don’t want to feel this way with him here. “I’m not used to-” 

Joel, who has never seen you at a loss for words, frowns, draws you against him. “Come here.”

“It’s okay,” he lets you press your face just below his jaw. He’s being so soft, it makes everything that much worse. Tears slip down your cheeks, landing on his skin. He strokes your hair, holds you so tightly, firmly, "It was intense, huh?” 

You want to resent the way he’s speaking to you – like you’re a child who fell off her bike and skinned her knee, and not a grown ass woman realizing how disconnected she’s felt with every other partner until now. But unfortunately, it’s kind of working. You murmur an affirmation in response. ”I’ve got you, it’s okay,” he promises. 

He holds you until the tide of emotion swells, settles, lips against your temple, his fingertips tracing up and down your spine, and gives you the time to compose yourself.

“That was really nice, I promise,” you say, eventually. And then, because he’s been so gracious, you’re honest. “It’s just been…a long time…” Forever, really. “Since I felt…”

“I know,” Joel nods. “Me too. It’s alright.” 

“Yeah,” you bob your head. He holds your face reverently, and pulls you in for a chaste kiss before tucking you back against his chest. You close your eyes, nestle against him. He strokes your hair while you listen to the steady beat of his heart.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The next thing you know, you’re being gently shaken awake. Somehow, you’d fallen asleep. 

“Hey, baby,” Joel murmurs softly. 

“Mmm?” you groan in response, exhaustion clinging to your limbs. 

“I’m sorry, I gotta get going.” 

You scoff into his neck and make a noise of protest, still not entirely roused, he’d woken you too delicately. When he speaks, his lips brush against your forehead, hands still tracing up and down the lines of your body and making you shiver. “I told Sarah and Tommy I’d be home by midnight.”

“Right,” you mutter, finding the strength to push yourself off of him and stretch. Joel sits up, very tentatively releasing you from his grip. 

“I’m sorry I had to wake you, I can see myself out.”

“No, no,” you shake your head. “No, please. Do you need anything?”

“Can I use your bathroom?” 

“Of course,” you point towards the ensuite. 

Joel collects his discarded clothes off the bed, then the floor, and disappears. You hear the sink running, watch the shuffling shadows he casts in the crack below the door. While he’s doing that, you slip into your robe and run your fingers through your hair, taking in the disheveled state of your bed, before deciding to clean up in the extra bathroom down the hall.

On your way back, you run into Joel, who looks better than ever, tanned skin glowing, a soft smile on his face. “Hey,” he says. 

“Hey.” 

“This was nice. I had a really good time.” 

“Me too.”

“Will you…” he trails off, rubs his jaw. “Will you be okay? I don’t want to-”

“I’m fine,” you say, dismissively. “I just had a moment.”

“You sure?”

“Of course.” Joel studies you carefully, and you’re prompted to continue. “I promise. Joel. This was nice.”

“It was,” he grins. “I’d like to see you again.” 

“Me too,” you don’t even think before you answer, despite everything. It surprises you, how willing you suddenly are.

“Good.” He kisses you, slow and lingering. “I’ll give you a call.” 

“Okay.”

-

part vi

taglist: @yaskna@venomous-ko@lomljigg@yeehawbitchs@ay0nha @eldahae @lol-im-done@melancholicmelanin@reggies-floatie @omniscientqueer@superflymaterial@mikkorantanev@zbeez-outlet @nadja-antipaxos @strawberri-blonde @jabbajambler @ponyboys-sunsets @kyuupidwrites @r4efromvenus @loveatfirstsight-atlastsight @korianderbandit @nicoleoeoeoe @hotgirlsshareaccounts @madisonred88 @crustyrustydusty @sflame15-blog @issybee0611 @darkemeralddiamond @grandmana @totallynotastanacc @ay0nha @virgogaia @lunarxeclipse @marysucks-blog @jabbajambler @surazim @naiomiwinchester @raindrcpsangel @dorotheapascal @mythical-mushrooms13 @chernayawidow

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller series #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #the last of us #the last of us writing #tlou #tlou writing #pedro pascal #troy baker #sarah miller #tommy miller #pre-outbreak! joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #the last of us hbo #tlou hbo #this chapter got a little TOO REAL for me you know #like #crying after sex??? relatable #also had to stop putting gifs on this story because it makes my computer/tumblr freak out #not sure what the problem is but i have too much happening to figure it out #texas sun

[lover-of-mine]

Hi, hi, hello, here I am again to sound insane about buddie. First, is this speculation? A meta? A canon adjacent fic idea I don't have the skill to execute? Wishful thinking? All of the above? I'm not sure, I just saw a pattern and my brain came up with something very elaborate that I will now tell you about. Also, maybe read this first because that connection is the one that pushed this into place, and if you want more thoughts on Buck and death.

So, if you're new here, I live in a delusional land called they casted Ryan with a plan that recently added a neighborhood called did they tell Ryan Eddie is Buck's endgame? so I'm always looking for something to prove me right because I refuse to believe someone accidentally set up what could be the slow burn to end all slow burns, and I found an interesting pattern after watching Abandon ‘Ships and things escalated. 

But the thing is that Buck and Eddie's relationship is tied with the concept of death. Both of them have very intricate relationships with death individually, but together too. I was thinking about the “we might end up real close” as the very dark joke Buck was actually going for, with the way if that grenade had gone off, there would be no telling them apart in the blast, but it got me thinking about the way Buck is signing up to die with Eddie. They both walk into that ambulance knowing they might very well not walk out, and the fact that they did, is what makes them bond. The wording of “you can have my back any day” is very interesting to me because Eddie is not saying “I will take care of you” he is saying “I trust you to take care of me” and that's a real intense thing to say to the coworker who was picking a fight with you half an hour before. But they bonded over a promise of keeping each other alive that they were forced to keep over and over again. 

And a lot of major changes in their relationship start with a deadly situation. They could have died pancaked on that building after the earthquake, and after that Chris got introduced into their dynamic. The truck explosion had Eddie reversing into being a medic to treat Buck even though it made more sense for him to be using his strength to help lift the truck. The tsunami started the realization that Buck loves Chris like he is his kid, and also had Eddie explicitly affirming the trust he has in Buck. The well made Eddie change his will. That warehouse fire on Buck Begins, Eddie is the first one to Buck's line and he's also waiting for Buck after he gets checked out. Buck saved Eddie's life during the shooting, the will reveal also established how well Eddie knows Buck. They got held at gunpoint together and Buck's automatic reaction to the gunshot is to run towards it because Eddie might be in danger. Buck broke Eddie's door down to help him after his breakdown that was triggered by death, and Buck also had a moment where he thought he would be finding Eddie's body. And Buck actually gives Eddie hope after it all by giving Eddie a good thing about the situation that led him to get shot. 

We established this pattern, but I want to talk about the lightning in more detail because, unlike any situation before, Buck actually died. Eddie doesn't hesitate to go up what's basically a wet lightning rod to get to Buck after the strike even though he had been thrown off the truck, Eddie also performs CPR even though he was driving the ambulance, and it is Eddie shocking Buck that gets his heart beating again. It's almost as if he was, I don't know, welcoming him back to the world of the living? (Ba dum tss lol this is mostly a joke but please keep this in mind)

So we have Eddie literally bringing Buck back from the dead. But Buck is not ready to deal with the consequences and implications of what happened to him, which is understandable, I guess, with his relationship with life and death, but Buck not dealing with it makes it so Eddie won't fully deal with it either. 

Buck is a passively suicidal savior baby and Eddie is a widower. If Daniel didn't get sick Buck wouldn't have been born and Eddie is the last one standing. And that's a lot about how they deal with death. Buck acts as if he's not looking for death but doesn't mind if death finds him and Eddie is burdened by the people he couldn't save. And the thing with Buck's death is that Buck realized that he does care if death finds him and Eddie thinks that since Buck is alive, he doesn't get to feel the grief for the time Buck was dead, not fully at least. 

So they were at a very interesting point where Eddie is constantly around Buck, and is the place Buck runs to when he gets overwhelmed, and Buck is extremely off balance over the fact that he did die this time and he's not sure how to feel about it. But since Buck wasn't ready to look at everything about his death, how he felt about it, how it affected the people he loves, how it took away his coping mechanism when it comes to being in danger since his reaction was always “but I didn't die” or “I didn't get the worst of it” because he did die and he did get the worst of it, so Buck finds a safe place to hide where he can look at his death through the eyes of someone who wasn't affected by it. 

I was always curious about why the cemetery scene happened in a cemetery. Why Buck and Eddie are visiting the grave of someone who didn't die on their watch. Why a conversation about Buck's feelings about death and wanting to forget it happened, happened in a cemetery. And the location of the conversation ties the conversation to the concept of death in the broad sense that keeps tying Buck and Eddie together. Not considering the breakup aspects of the conversation, the cemetery scene is actually about Buck running away from the way death made him feel, he is drawn to this person who thinks death is cool, so he won't have to see his death as a tragedy and now I also think there is a layer about making Eddie realize he needs to let Buck accept what happened before he can help Buck past it. 

In the locker room, Buck is talking about death as something that got boring since it was all Natalia ever wanted to talk about. We will never know the original plan for that relationship, but considering the focus on her being a death doula, I feel like that was always the point, put Buck in a space where he can look at death as something that's not scary anymore. But the scene also ends with Eddie welcoming him back to the world of the living. Eddie has ridiculous survival skills, Buck survived a lot, yeah, but Buck always ends up in these life-or-death situations by accident. He choked on bread, the bomb wasn't aimed at him, the blood clots were a very unlikely complication of the surgery he had on his leg, the odds of getting caught in a tsunami are ridiculously low, and he got struck by lightning. Eddie was out at war, he was targeted by a sniper, he saved his own life on the well, and he tries to pull people out with him. He has now learned to live with the way everyone he saved on that chopper died, but he even blamed himself for the one guy he couldn't save that time. Eddie is not afraid of death, but he is afraid of being the one left alive. Buck on the other hand is almost afraid of what it means that he is alive. So Buck's passively suicidal tendencies, something that Eddie deeply understands about Buck “you act like you're expendable” are something that scares him. Because pre-lightning Buck doesn't really care if he is alive. And since Buck wasn’t ready to talk about what dying did to him, Eddie doesn’t know that Buck now may want to actually live. He doesn’t know that Buck chose to come back, that he fought for it. 

But if death is now something boring, Buck can actually do something about being alive because he wants to. He can actually be in the world of the living because he wants to be, because he believes he has the right to be. He can actually find a place where he doesn’t believe his life matters less. 

And when it comes to Eddie, with the focus on Shannon that we got recently, he can also find a space where he’s not trying to find her. Accept that she was a big part of his life, accept he will always miss her, and find something new. 

Oliver and Ryan have been talking a lot about vulnerability and Buck and Eddie leaning on each other, and with the locker room conversation, their relationship with death individually and together, the fact that the cruise disaster is on the horizon and while we know Buck and Eddie were filming in cruise and out in the sea they are barely in the promo of it, my own Buck will drown speculations (you can read about that here), and the general they will be in danger on the cruise feelings, I think that could mean Buck and Eddie are moving to a place where they could be a couple that works. There’s a lot of talk about the friendship aspect of their relationship and we’ve seen that a lot in the first episode already, but they are chilling in this space where they can talk to each other freely, and getting Buck to a place where he wants to be alive for himself not for what he can offer other people and Eddie to a place where he accepts the people he couldn’t save without it narrowing the way he deals with his relationships. I talk a lot about how Eddie overcorrects, and one complaint Shannon had was that he wasn’t all the way in with her, so he goes too fast with Ana and might be doing the same with Marisol because he’s trying to fix that mistake with someone else, but accepting that what he has with Buck is its own thing that works, and all he needs to do is be open about what he wants could be the push that puts him in the path of loving Buck fully, the same way Buck just goes along with things because he mostly believes he shouldn’t be alive, so why should he want things, so to have Buck get to the place where he realizes that he has what he wants right on his reach, he just needs to ask for it is ideal. 

I made this edit not that long ago, and it’s almost a poem, about how Eddie doesn’t think what he has to offer is enough, so he won’t say what he means, and Buck thinks he needs to settle for what he’s offered, so he won’t ask for more, and how that’s an immovable object meeting an unstoppable force, and they need to move off that impasse for that relationship to work. And being in the world of the living together and finding the little things that make them happy along with all the tragedy that surrounds them, can put them on that path. 

Their whole relationship is about keeping each other alive, Eddie straight up offers Buck a reason to live, why can’t they just find a way to make each other feel alive?

I said up there about how Buck signed up to dying with Eddie by going in that ambulance, and with everything about Buck, Actually (i recommend you read this for Buck actually thoughts about buddie) and how he latched on to the way Thomas and Mitchell died together after hearing about the life they had together, it's important for Buck to realize that point is not to die together, but to have the life together, and I feel like Buck is in the path to understanding that, and Eddie is ready to be happy, this could be it.

They could be learning to be alive together and finding out they want to be together.

As always, if you read this, I love you 💜

#911 meta #911 spoilers #911 speculation #911 #buddie #buddie thoughts #this came to me as i was trying to sleep last night lol #but yeah #i hope this makes sense

[stylesispunk]

"I couldn't want you anymore" | part 7

Artist! Joel Miller x Florist! Reader

series masterlist | previous chapter | next

summary: when Sarah's mom comes back into Joel's life to fight for their past relationship, Joel needs to convince her he is in a happy relationship with the florist next to his gallery in order to make her go away. The problem is, that he and the florist can't stand each other's guts or that it's what he thinks.

warning: age gap (Joel is 36 and reader is 28). Remember that "Bee" is the reader's nickname, angst as always, fighting between our two main characters + smut, and fluff.

a/n: Hello! Chapter 6 is here. First, I want to thank every one of you for reading and reblog and comment on my story, it makes my heart happy. This chapter is shorter than the last two, but is a chapter I had to rewrite 3 times because, but I didn't like it at all, but I hope you do a little bit at least? haha. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated and please share your thoughts with me, I love reading from you No proofreading so I'm sorry for any grammar mistakes. Happy reading. 💌

masterlist

It's been two weeks since your last visit to Joel's place. It's been two weeks since you showed up on his doorstep, angry and broken because you blamed him for wrecking your plans to move on and start a new life, and two weeks since he kissed you.

Two weeks, and Joel had started to become crazy because of your radio silence.

He had thought that after your emotional outburst, you would simply need time to think, hoping that you would return sooner and ask him to try, for real this time.

After three months of not having you that close, he had replayed every moment of with you, every touch, your eyes, and the taste of your lips. He had poured his heart out to you, declared his love, and yet your response was requesting time to consider his intentions.

He feared you were tired of him, and the accident's wounds didn't hurt as much as his heart. He was recovering faster, yet his emotions were pained.

He recalled the night he crushed your heart, thinking this is exactly how you felt when you said "I love you" and he failed to respond the same back. For him, the irony of pain was how badly you wanted to be comforted by the one who hurt you, but now it was you who wasn't there.

The longing for you got stronger as the days passed, and it became increasingly difficult for him to sit still and wait for you to reach for him. Joel acknowledged that your silence wasn't completely a rejection, but he was afraid that the distance you were creating might shatter what was left of your story.

He didn't want you to become a memory; instead, he wanted to create memories with you.

"I think she's being unfair to Joel," Tommy said over dinner, seeing Sarah, Lily, and Joel's gaze on him.

"Why do you mean by that?" Lily asked, defiantly

 "Joel told her he loved him, wasn't that what she wanted?" he inquired.

Joel threw his brother a cautionary stare as Lily scoffed.

"No, no, it wasn't. She didn't stay because of him."

The weight of the conversation was pressing down on Joel. He was aware that everyone around him were concerned about him, but at the same time he hated how everyone had a say about you and him, not knowing what really was involved.

"It's not like he forced her to stay," Tommy continued.

Joel's irritation was rising, and he felt the tension between his brother and Lily; after all, she was your best friend, and she would defend you from everyone.

Joel pushed his plate aside, feeling that he was in an endless cycle of emotional limbo as he lost his appetite. All he wanted was to have you back in his life, but that was a decision only you could make, and it was driving him insane.

"Can you both stop?" Joel interfered, his voice firm. "I don't need you two fighting over something that was my mistake."

Tommy and Lily fell silent, their expressions softening with concern. They exchanged a glance before Lily spoke, her tone gentler now. "Joel, Tommy is worried about you. We can see how much you're hurting."

Joel nodded, acknowledging their concern. "I know. Thanks for looking out for me, but this is something I have to figure out with Bee. If she needs time, I'll give her time, even if it kills me”

Tommy, understanding his brother's feelings, nodded in agreement. "You're right, Joel. We'll be here for you, no matter what."

Joel appreciated their support, but he couldn't help but wish that you would break the silence and give him some clarity about your feelings. The uncertainty was becoming almost unbearable.

Joel continued going back to the moments you'd had, your most recent overwhelming argument, and your decision to take some time apart. He wished he could break the stillness and tell you how much he loved you. He wasn't just driven by the desire to fix his mistake; he also wanted to repair a relationship that had been harmed due to his commitment.

He felt more anxious with each passing day, his longing for your presence almost unnerving. The gap between you required to be filled with understanding, trust, and reconciliation.

He'd been on edge for days, spending his days recovering from the accident, alone when Sarah departed for school, with only a painful silence echoing in the back of his mind, waiting for any sign from you.

When the doorbell rang one hour later, he felt a rush of hope running through his body, thinking that maybe you had finally come to him to talk things through. He rushed to the door and opened it, only to find you standing there with a serious expression and small envelope in your hand.

"Joel," you said before he had a chance to say something "I've come to give you this."

He was taken aback, expecting an emotional talk rather than a monotonous tone leaking through your voice, indicating an absence of enthusiasm.

You didn't even look like yourself; you were painted in grey shades.

"What's that?" he asked.

You handed him the envelope containing the money he had paid Connell for your shop behind your back "I don't need anything from you, Joel. Not your pity, not the idea that you own me because you bought my shop. I can take care of myself."

Joel's face contorted with an array of emotions as he was taken aback by your words. "Bee, it's not about that. I—"

But you cut him off, your frustration evident in your voice. "Joel, you can't just buy something I love, throw your money at my back, or kiss me and expect everything to be fine." You won't be able to buy your way back into my life."

He struggled to hold back his anger in the midst of your stubbornness any longer. "I'm not attempting to bribe my way in, Bee. I thought I was showing how much I cared, how much I was willing to do to in order to make things right."

Your eyes were filled with rage. "What?" you ask. "You thought that once I found out you were the one buying my shop, I was going to run back to you?" "That I was going to be over heals for you?" you hit him in the chest.

Joel's rage and pain welled up within him. He tried to narrow the gap between you and make amends, but every step he took appeared to push you farther away. In an outburst of rage, he cried out, "What do you want from me, Bee?" "How long will it take for us to get things right?"

You shook your head, the annoyance clear in your voice. "You can't expect grand gestures to fix everything." It takes time, effort, and faith to repair what has been damaged."

"All right," he said, taking a step closer to you and leaning in closer. "If you despise me that much, leave!" "Leave as you said you were going to"

You stared at him agape, your own anger rising at him. His words stung.

Joel's remarks had hurt deep, and you couldn't deny that you had been holding resentment and rage. But his closeness, his intensity, made you feel weak "Maybe you want to go back to what we used to be, all the fighting, all the cursing," he whispered in your ear, "Maybe you loved that."

The harsh tone of his words caught you off guard. Your feelings for one other were a tangled knot of love, anger, impatience, and hurt.

You were drawn in by his dark gaze, and you cupped his face firmly feeling the warmth of the skin beneath your fingertips. The rage remained, but beneath it was an obvious spell that kept you together.

"Shut up," you commanded, your stare locked on his, his lips inches from yours, his breath against your mouth.

"Make me," he challenged you, staring you in the eyes.

Joel's dare hung in the air, challenging you to break the distance dividing you, to let go of your rage and fury, and eventually give in to the magnetic pull that had always been between you.

You crashed both of your lips with not a single word, going into an intense kiss. It was laced with desire and frustration against each other, the climax of all the tension that had been building over the weeks you were together once and three months apart. Your lips moved eagerly together, each of you pouring all of your feelings into the kiss.

And now that his arm was healed, he clutched your hips and push you against the door, without intentions of stopping devouring your mouth in this hungry kiss. Your arms found their way to his neck to tangle into his locks, and Joel groaned into your mouth.

"You fucking idiot," you muttered between kisses, but he bit your bottom lip to silence you as his hands moved from your hips to your bum and to your waist, drawing you closer to him. His lips started kissing your neck until they found your mouth once more, you whimpered against his mouth.

His hands found the gem in your top and yanked it off. He'd spent the last three months longing to see you like this again, and now he was on cloud nine.

"Bedroom," he whispered softly, not breaking the kiss.

Once you stepped in his room, you were lying on your back with him on top, taking your lips back to his again.

You placed your arms around his neck and opened your legs so he could go closer to you, moaning at the sensation of him against where you wanted him most.

"This doesn't mean anything," you whispered as he ground his hips against yours, sending electricity running through your body.

"Shut up," he said, and you chuckled, grabbing his pants.

"Make me," you said, with a smirk on your face just like he did minutes ago.

He groaned into the skin of your neck, yanking his jeans and underwear off. Your gentle grasp on him caused him to whimper.

He drew you closer to him by your hips as you continued to devour one other, his hands going under the denim skirt you were wearing.

You knew this was bad, that allowing him to do these types of things with you was a show of weakness, but you couldn't stop the joy and the dazzling fireworks traveling up to your lower stomach were stronger than your thoughts. You were utterly out of breath, and you wanted him so bad it ached that you felt your lungs would catch fire. 

You couldn't really comprehend what he was saying on the skin of your chest because your mind was consumed by the overwhelming desire to have him as you needed right now.

You couldn't really comprehend what he was saying on the skin of your chest because your mind was consumed by the overwhelming desire to have him as you needed right now.

He paused kissing you and spreading kisses on your chest for a moment to gaze at your parted lips and your chest rising and falling as a result of him, and he couldn't lie, he felt proud of his lasting control over you.

"Are you going to keep looking or are you going to f-"

You couldn't finish before he snatched your lips back, dragging you around his waist and grinding himself against you, making you moan against his lips. With such want, you could feel the aching growing up between your tights.

"You don't seem so mad at me right now, do you?" he huskily whispered in your ear, making your knees weak.

Before you could fire your retort, his fingers teasingly pulled your underwear down, careful to avoid where you wanted him the most. He seemed to be having a good time and enjoying every second of you squirming under him. Your head fell back to the bed, a gentle but irritated murmur from your lips. When he saw your reaction, he smiled, and you felt the delicate touch of his fingers stroking across your core.

"Oh," you whimpered, out of breath.

His soft lips caressed every single area of your skin on your chest, just over your red bra, with an agonizing slowness that made you insane and roll your eyes of pure pleasure. The one he unhooked with one hand so swiftly you gasped, a sound drowned out by the sensation of his lips over your nipples while he continued to pound on you at your core.

He greets you with a laugh, his cheeks exposing his dimples, and his eyes shining at the sight of you.

"Stop teasing, you idiot," you grumbled.

He sucked on a nipple, causing your back to arch as he gripped your hips to the bed before meeting your eyes, absorbing every inch of your face lost in the joy of the moment, stroking your checks with his thumb.

As he grabbed for a condom from his bedside table, you grip the gem of his t-shirt to remove it, leaving no barrier between the two of you.

He moved between your tights, spreading them apart once more, and welcomed himself into you. You hadn't had him since that night when you confessed to him, and he felt even bigger than you remembered, and you both gasped when he began thrusting inside. He pushed his forehead against your neck, kissing you softly over the skin.

"You're amazing like this," he said into your ear, "God I could just-"

He could complete it since he focused solely on making you pleased picking up his pace and thrusting quicker. He was completely inside you, feeling like he was breaking down your defenses as he pushed it on and on. You were out of breath, and all the air in your lungs didn't feel quite enough. You bucked your hips, allowing him to move even more quickly. And that's exactly what he did, giving you everything you asked for.

As your nails left red lines on his naked back and he thrust his hips harder into you, you could feel the heat spreading all over your body, like diesel meeting fire, causing an imminent explosion.

You struggled to breathe, but it didn't matter since the surge of ectasis he gave you was enough to make you feel alive. His finger traced the patterns over you, leaving hot flames all over your skin, and you clutched him, trying to appreciate this closeness before it was ripped away.

And he continued to rock into you. The sounds you both produced were completely hot, forcing your blood to rush into your checks as you continued to toss your head back to give him permission to mark the skin of your neck.

"Fuck you," you said in ecstasy,

"you’re doing it, love" he retorted.

You grasped for his hair to hold him tight against your lips, kissing the warm skin under his ear as if you wanted him to hear you, panting for air, feeling your climax come so close that you trembled against his body. Not long after, your world spun around you, and you tightened your grip on his waist, feeling the release as you cursed in his ear, forcing him to release after you. His push grew sloppy, sending small sparks up your tights, till he came to a halt and you saw a delicious sight.

He kissed your temple for a few seconds longer, enjoying the sweat drips on your skin. Finally, you looked into his eyes. His brow eyes' delicate brightness sent thrills down your spine, leaving you with a lump in your throat.

 Joel chuckled as he caressed your warm face, his touch on your skin radiating affection. All of the tension and resentment that led you to have sex before disappeared into the void.

"You don't have to go anywhere," he leaned in, his lips brushing against your brow. You're exactly where you should be."

You closed your eyes, appreciating his proximity and the soothing sound of his voice. “How can I trust you?”

Joel's lips lingered on your forehead as he replied, his words filled with sincerity, "Because when I hold you like this, it's where I find peace and meaning, Bee. I was a fool not to see it then. It took almost losing you to realize I'm in love with you."

Your eyes met his, and for a moment, everything seemed to align. The honesty in his confession left you breathless. The anger, the passion, and the pain you both had shared had led you to this moment, where the love you had for each other was undeniable.

Your heart ached at his words "Joel, it's not that simple. There's so much we need to work through, so much we need to rebuild."

He nodded, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. "I know, Bee”

Joel rested his forehead against yours, enveloping the both of you in comfortable silence.

“Can you give me my clothes, please?” You asked breaking the atmosphere

With a heavy heart, Joel nodded and reluctantly pulled away from you.

He moved to take your clothes from the ground of his bedroom and handed them to you. The air between you felt charged. The lust, and passion you felt for each other leaded you to crossed the line once again, this time, being the anger, the main feeling holding you together.

“You don’t have to go now, you know that?” he pleaded,

You avoid looking into his eyes, you knew you were weak for the man and you could fall for his words.

“I know, but I need to” you answered, as you quickly dressed, convincing yourself, you didn’t want to give yourself so easily to him again.

"Can you give me my clothes, please?" You spoke, breaking the comfortable silence between you two. 

Joel nodded, involuntarily breaking away from you, with a heavy heart.

He took your clothes from the floor of his bedroom and handed them to you. The space between you now felt tense again. The lust and passion you had for each other drove you to cross the boundary once more, but this time with fury as the main feeling holding you together.

"You don't have to go now, you know that?" He begged,

You avoid looking into his eyes because you know that you were vulnerable for him and you might be persuaded by his words.

"I know, but I have to," you replied as you hurriedly dressed, assuring yourself that you didn't want to give yourself so easily to him.

Joel sat there silently watching you, his eyes full with love and need for you. He knew what had just happened was fueled by rage and desire, and that didn't mean you were okay with him. It would be difficult to repair your connection.

You turned to face Joel as you finished dressing. "I need some time, Joel." Time to reflect, heal, and figure out where we stand."

“It was good by the way” you addressed smiling at him, referring to what you’d had “But it doesn’t mean I want to be with you right now."

With those words, you made your way to his bedroom door.

“And what was that back at the hospital when I got into the accident?” he asked before you left, “Would you rather for me to be dead or what?”

You came to a halt as his words impacted you like a punch in the gut. You turned back to face Joel, your rage returning.

"That's not fair, Joel," you replied, your voice shaking with emotion. "You know I would rather die than lose you like that".

"Then why are you so scared?" he questioned, reaching for you once more.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you struggled to fight the oncoming storm of emotions. "Because I'm not just afraid of losing you." I'm afraid I'll lose myself again. "I'm afraid of getting hurt." You let out a sigh. "You led me on back then, how can I trust you again?"

Joel took a step closer, his voice desperate. "I promise not to hurt you again, Bee." I've learned from my errors. Give us a chance to make things right."

You shook your head, unable to find the appropriate words. "Joel, I need more than promises. I need time for healing and rebuild trust. That is a process that cannot be rushed."

Joel sagged his shoulders and ran a hand through his hair, clearly distressed. "I'm at a loss for words, Bee. I love you and will do everything for you."

You took a step back, putting distance between you two. "Joel, love is more than just saying the words. It's all about showing it through actions."

You turned and walked away from Joel, leaving him with a broken heart and a need that mirrored your own.

You had taken refuge in your own peace a week later, evaluating your alternatives in all facets of your life. What were you going to do with your work, yourself, and even Connell, since despite his assurances that he would never hate you, you own him more than you realize.

And on the opposite side, there was Joel. He had expressed his love for you, but you had learned that words are insufficient in this instance. You knew it would take time to reestablish confidence. But as time passed, you couldn't help but miss him even more than you did the first time. He had a tremendous power over you. The times you spent together, the laughter, the shared moments, and how he taught you to fall in love again.

You remembered that night at the gallery when he showed you the drawing he had made of you. When he first caressed the skin of your body, leaving his mark on you.

Deep down, you knew that love was a tricky and imperfect emotion that didn't always follow a straight line. Despite your concerns, you wished to give Joel another chance.

A knock on the door broke through your thoughts. You jumped up from the couch, cautiously approaching the door. When you opened it, you were surprised to see Lauren standing on your porch. She looked concerned, her gaze avoiding direct contact with yours.

"Lauren, what are you doing here?" "How do you know where I live?" you wondered. Your tone was a mix of surprise and curiosity.

Lauren took a big breath and looked you in the eyes. "I need to speak with you. "Can I come in?"

You hesitated for a second before stepping aside and allowing her to enter. She entered your living room and sat, her posture eager and apprehensive.

You joined her on the couch after closing the door behind her. "What's this about, Lauren?"

Lauren looked at you, her eyes searching for understanding. “I know our first encounter wasn’t friendly, and I want to apologize. I’m truly sorry for the way I acted”

Lauren's honesty in her eyes was not lost on you. You were afraid she was coming to tell you she was now with Joel, which could break your heart.

Lauren continued "And I'm really ashamed of this but I think you should forgive Joel"

You took a big breath, unsure what to say. Lauren's apologies caught you off guard, and you were at a loss for words. "I appreciate your apology, Lauren," you said after a little pause. It means a lot to me." "But Joel isn't a topic I want to discuss with you," you said timidly.

"It is," she replied. "I know you weren't together. He told me."

Your pupils dilated, and you couldn't help but feel embarrassed.

"And yes, at first I wanted to be with him," she admitted. "I wanted my family back, but it's too late now." And I have to thank Sarah for accepting me back into her life after what I did, but Joel? will never love me again."

"Why are you so sure?" you questioned, your tone tense.

"Because he has been in love since the beginning."

"The eyes, he had been looking at you with such adoration, neither I had those eyes looking at me like that."

You were out of breath, and a knot formed in your throat.

"No, that's not-"

"You love him too," she said, "and let me tell you something, the years I lost with Sarah?" I'm not going to get them back. So, if you and Joel truly love each other, don't waste more time."

Lauren's sudden comments stunned you while also leaving you conflicted. Her apology for her prior behavior was a step toward peacemaking, but her admissions regarding Joel and his sentiments caught you off guard.

You paused before responding, your mind racing, "I'm not sure I want to get hurt again."

She nodded in agreement, and he dug inside her purse for something, that turned out to be a journal.

She nodded in understanding, and then he reached for something inside her bag for something, it was a journal.

“I stole this from Joel. I think you should take a look” she laughed, giving the journal to you.

“I just don't want to see you both miss out on something beautiful because of fear or doubts. Life's too short for regrets."

You looked at her with a mixture of gratitude and uncertainty. "I need time, Lauren, to figure things out and heal. I'll consider what you've said, though. Thank you for your apology and for your concern."

Lauren smiled warmly at you “Good luck” she said.

You couldn't help but stare at the book in your hands as you saw Lauren leave your house.

The journal she had given you caught your curiosity, and you couldn't stop yourself from opening it to find out what was inside.

You started flipping the pages, knowing it was Joel's journal. The entries spanned several years ago, from the years you arrived here, and reading them made you feel touched by the depth of his feelings and the journey he had been on. The pages were crammed with his ideas, hopes, and dreams, many of which were centered on you.

Joel had written about the day you two first met and the times he had spent with you, but it was the drawings of you that grabbed your attention.

"The pretty florist next to my gallery looking at her flowers"

"The florist in her environment, framed by a floral tapestry."

"The pretty florist, a captivating muse for my brush and canvas."

All of the entries were from the last four years.

However, the most recent one, from a year ago,

"the florist who stole my heart"

And you realized Joel had been loving you long before you had feelings for him.

a/n: Okay, so you know things may get better between them...

tags 💌: @joeldjarin @borhapparker @fatima-marisa @kirsteng42 @paleidiot @harriedandharassed @runningmom94 @pedr0swh0r3 @ssacharcoalgrey @missladym1981

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction #joel miller series #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller imagine #joel miller angst #tlou fanfiction #joel the last of us #joel x reader #Joel Miller #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #the last of us #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascar character imagine #pedro pascal #joel miller smut

[hsllfirescoopsreblogs]

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾

「 ✦ Steve Rogers ✦ 」

╰┈➤ 18+ none of these stories belong to me! this is a masterlist of all steve rogers stories i’ve read and reblogged! just thought it would be nice to have them all in one spot! (if your fic is on here and you wish not to be, please let me know!)

╭┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈╮

: ̗̀➛ code blue by @bonky-n-steeb

✮ Steve is angry on you for behaving recklessly and you decide to let him take his anger out on you in a very unprofessional way...

: ̗̀➛ oh captain my captain by @starryevermore

✮chris knows how much you enjoy captain america, so he makes sure you live out all of your fantasies. (chris evans pretending to be steve rogers)

: ̗̀➛ it’s you that i lie with by @lipstickbisous

✮pt 1- steve rogers realizes that his love for you is unparalleled, but when he chooses to return to you by the lake, he receives a certain visit from the time variance authority

: ̗̀➛ mr. perfectly fine by @sparkleofpizza

✮Hello, Mr. perfectly fine, how’s your heart after breaking mine?” - Taylor Swift (Mr. Perfectly Fine)

: ̗̀➛ @espinosaurusrexex

☾ forever, of course

✮Steve has a crush on you but your flirty character isn’t making things easy for him. Now he even has to marry you to please a 6-year-old superfan of his. Whether that’s a good plan or not, isn’t quite clear for Steve yet.

☾ watchful eyes

✮When your best friend gets you a new job, cleaning the apartment of the most successful man in New York City, you don't hesitate to accept. The pay is more than good, and the man himself is better than any eye candy you have ever seen. Unbeknownst to you, you've caught his attention just as much. Steve can't keep his mind off you, so much so, that he drives everyone around him insane with his grumpiness when you aren't around. It seems like he has to take matters into his own hands when he realizes, you're too shy to take things further yourself.

: ̗̀➛ something new by @buckyownsmylife

✮The one where Steve moved onto another woman’s arms after the blip, but now that you’re back…

: ̗̀➛ back to you by @literaryavenger

✮You've always been there for Steve, and now you're watching him go back to the girl he always wanted.

: ̗̀➛ hideout by @ronearoundblindly

✮Grant, a guest at your middle-of-nowhere motel, has needs not covered by the usual turn-down service.

: ̗̀➛ he’s just not into you by @sergeantbarnessdoll

✮Steve isn’t into Sharon, but he’s in Y/N.

: ̗̀➛ to know him is to love him by @anonymityisfunwriter

✮ to know steve rogers is to love him. to know him is to keep handing over your heart over and over again. to know him is to be broken by him.

: ̗̀➛ airbag by @ichorai

✮ five time steve tries to propose to you, and one time he actually does.

: ̗̀➛ lift by @str-spangled-banner

✮ You confess to Steve that you’ve always wanted to do the Dirty Dancing lift. Somehow, he agrees to do it with you.

: ̗̀➛ caught by @moonlightyeager

✮ you and steve get caught

: ̗̀➛ you’re stuck with me by @your-eternal-lies

✮ As his perfectly normal civilian neighbour, you’ve always been secretly curious about the Captain. Getting to know him while trapped together in your building’s elevator, however, definitely wasn’t on the agenda.

: ̗̀➛ hangry by @just-another-blog-of-fluff

•MASTERLIST

•MARVEL MASTERLIST

hopefully all links work, let me know if not <3

last updated april 16, 2024

#steve rogers #captain america #steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #marvel #marvel x reader #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers series #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers angst #steve rogers fluff

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Personal Time [2]

Steven Grant X F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info

Personal Time Series Masterlist (You don't have to read it to read this)

Summary: Steven orders a strap-on.

A/N: @lonelyisamyw-0love this is especially for you 💚

This is unbetaed (like all of my fics) I have read it over a few times, but my head just isn't in the game at the moment and I feel like I'm just not chatching errors. I appologise that there are probably more here than normal. Also Downward dog is a yoga position.

Warnings: oral (both m and f receiving), fingering, pegging, anal sex, sucking on a strap, praise kink (I’m sorry), the term ‘good boy’ used, begging, ermmmm kind of an exhibition kink?, typos, please let me know if I’ve missed a warning.

Word Count: 4967

________________________________

Steven had spent the better part of 24 hours researching. Not all at once mind you. 

He hadn’t meant to fixate on this, it had just sort of… happened. 

One thing had led to another and another, and another. But he’d finally found a strap-on that he thought would tick all the boxes for both of you. 

He had ordered it online, after checking fifteen times that the delivery would be with discreet packaging. There was no need to give Mrs Thompson on the second floor anything to get all gossipy about. Especially when she managed to churn up enough ‘scandal’ about the block’s private lives anyway. (Quite early on in your and Steven’s relationship Mrs Thompson had engaged you in conversation in the lift. And when she had noticed what floor you were headed to, had promptly filled you in on all the ‘juicy titbits’ about the ‘odd gentleman’ that lived in flat 502 and his two ‘unusual brothers’. You had struggled to keep a straight face and had blurted the whole story out to Steven the second you saw him.)

The discreet (ordinary) packaging was the main reason why Steven had just dumped the parcel on the coffee table with a couple others when he got home from work. He’d had a shower and gone as far as slicing open the brown parcel tape when you’d knocked at the door. 

“Hi Steven.” You smiled as he held the door. “How was work?”

“Hi love,” he grinned and kissed your cheek before standing back to allow you to come in. “Good, good, shit actually, but good.” 

You snorted as you took off your shoes and hung up your jacket. 

“Do you want a drink?” 

“Aw, thank you, just water.” 

He grinned again and waited until your hands were unencumbered before he gave you a proper hug and a kiss. “Hello.” 

“Hello.” You echoed as he held you tightly. 

“Jake has been driving me fucking insane.” 

You laughed as he broke the hug. “Why?” 

“Why?” He pulled a face, mock exasperation that you knew was a put on just to amuse you. “His current obsession with Mrs Thomspon.” 

You giggled and Steven gestured for you to take a seat on the sofa as he went into the kitchen to get you a glass of water, and himself a cup of tea. 

“What’s the latest update in the saga?” You said as you sat down, noticing the three large parcels on the coffee table, one partially open. 

“He baked her cookies.” 

“Cookies?” 

Steven leaned back so that he could stare at you dramatically. “Cookies.” 

You laughed again. “How did she react?” 

Steven rolled his eyes and went back to making the drinks. “She loves him! You know that already from her most recent lift update to you about, ‘that strange Mr Grant, his odd brother, and that lovely Jake.’”

You couldn’t stop your giggles at his impression of Mrs Thompson. 

“I know Jake said he was going to kill her with kindness, but really.” He tutted. “He’s just doing it to annoy me. And to get all the gossip about everyone in the building.” 

You smiled. While you were sure that Jake did enjoy hearing about the little mini-dramas that were going on in the block of flats, you knew that he had originally spoken to Mrs Thompson after the first lift incident as a precaution. A safety check. Just to see what the woman had been saying about them to other people. 

He had ended up in the 77 year old's flat being fed tea and biscuits and had fixed her bathroom window, which hadn’t been closing right.

The kettle clicked off as it boiled.

“So what’s with all the boxes?” You called. 

“Oh!” Steven answered excitedly, “I think they are the books I was telling you about!”

You chuckle. “Did you buy a library?” 

“Pretty much!” 

Your smile widens. 

“I just had to get the full colour edition of the history of Iraq, because the photos looked amazing! Have a look!” 

You paused for a second, a little ball of impoliteness prodded at your mind even though Steven had just given you express permission to look in the box. But you shook the feeling aside and opened it. It was silly to be worried, it was just…

Ah. 

Steven came back into the room and paused at the look on your face. “Love?” 

You looked up at him quickly, trying to hide the smile that wanted to take over your entire being.

“You okay?” 

“It’s not your book in that parcel.” 

He frowned. “It’s not,” then he sighed. “Have they sent the wrong bloody thing?” 

You took the strap-on out of the packaging, all neatly sealed in its own very posh looking box, and held it up to him. 

“Oh, yeah.” Steven blushed but he was grinning. “That’s not a book.”

“I didn’t realise you could also order these from Waterstones.” 

He snorted. “No, that was definitely from a different place.” He gave you a sheepish smile as he put the drinks on the table and brushed his curls out of his eyes. 

“I didn’t realise you’d ordered one.” 

“Well,” he shrugged and sat down next to you, fiddling with his fingers ever so slightly. “I just, I wanted to make sure it was alright first.”

“You were gonna use it without me?” You teased.

“No,” his eyes shot up straight to yours, relaxing only when he saw your playful expression. “I just wanted to make sure it looked comfy for you.”

“For me?” The sentiment touches deep within your heart. “Steven, surely, I mean, it’s going in you. Your comfort is much more important.” 

He pulled a face like you’d just told him that the sky was orange. “Don’t be silly, love.” He shifts a little closer to you, his knee resting against your leg. “So,” he points to the box in your hands. “I did some research to find one that was good for beginners and each party.”

“You did some research?” You tease gently and he nods.

You can’t help yourself as you rub your legs together. Unable to stop the thought of Steven hunched over his laptop on his desk, his glasses on the tip of his nose as he read in depth reviews. Had he worked himself up? Gotten all hot and bothered thinking about you fucking him again? Had he desperately relieved himself at his desk? 

“Do you want to try it out today?” You ask tentatively. 

“Now?” He asks eagerly.

“Now’s good.”

.

He had happily let you lead him to bed, your lips fastened to his as if he was your only source of oxygen. His tea long forgotten and growing cold. 

You had drunk down his little moans, softly pushing him back onto the mattress and stripping him of his clothes. You bit his lip gently every time he tried to take off your own and he giggled. 

When he was naked, at last, you took a moment just to admire him. The flushed golden hue of his skin, his beautiful dark eyes, the way his mouth parted with every breath. 

Languidly you trailed your hands up his legs, placing gentle kisses on his inner thighs and smiling against his skin when he jumped and squirmed. His cock was already hard, twitching against his stomach and leaking. Desperate and waiting for you. For the smallest touch or caress, for anything you’d grace him with. 

It was dizzying sometimes, the thought alone making your head spin, how much faith and trust Steven gave you, putting every single part of himself in your hands as if it was as natural as breathing. 

You kissed his balls, nuzzling into them before licking them all over. 

Steven swore, his back arching ever so slightly as he pushed himself closer and spread his legs wider. 

You happily obliged him by licking a board, flat stripe up from the base to the very tip of his cock. Moaning slightly when the beaded precum at his head touched your tongue. 

He groaned, trying to bury the sound behind his hand, “Love… please.” 

You took your mouth away from him and he whimpered, a look of betrayal flashing across his features. 

His pout made you smile. 

You kissed the base of his length, running the tip of your nose against the thick vein that ran up the underside of his cock. Your smile widened when he shivered. 

“Can you grab the lube out of the drawer?” You asked quietly and broke into a laugh at how quickly Steven moved. As if he had been struck by lightning.

He partially rolled over, carefully not to whack you with his thighs, and fished around for a second before pulling out the bottle and placing it into your waiting hand. 

“Thank you.” You said in a singsong voice. 

Since finding his dildo and your recent escapades with it, you had made it your personal mission to learn how to work Steven open yourself. Savouring every moan and clench of muscle. He’d seemingly become quite addicted to it. 

You poured a generous helping of lube onto both of your hands. Then positioned your left hand around his cock, pumping him in lazy strokes, while you slide the fore and middle fingers of your right down his balls and pressed them lightly at his hole. 

Steven’s breathing hitched, his hips bucking ever so slightly into your touch as he fought with himself to stay still. 

You gently eased both of your fingers into him. Yours weren’t as thick as Steven’s own, and you knew from previous experience that he enjoyed that slow, tortuous stretch at the start. Happy to take two or three in the first breach, as long as they were well lubed. 

He moaned, shuddered, and swore, fisting his hands into the sheets beside him and pressing his head back, exposing the tendons in his neck. 

“Nice?” You asked as you moved your fingers, stroking them perfectly against his prostate. 

Steven gasped loudly, nodding, his eyes screwed up tight at the sensation. “Yeah, yeah, yes, good, nice, really good!” He rushed all his words together, the syllables becoming a blur. 

“Good.” You muttered. Heat swam in your lower belly, pooled at your core just from watching him. His pretty little sounds hypnotic. 

You scissored your fingers lightly, just enough to stretch his tight ring of muscle before going back to your tortuously slow, deep strokes.  

His thighs shook slightly, his muscles twitching as he fought with them to keep them still. 

You lean up, moving slightly so that you can swirl your tongue over the tip of his cock. 

Steven whines and you sink down, taking him deeper into your throat, and the action breaks him. 

“Fuck!” He hisses between his teeth, grabbing hold of your shoulder and bucking up into your warm, wet mouth and then grinding down onto your fingers. He can’t stop himself now, the last of his resolve breaking so easily under your touch. 

You let him writhe under you for a minute, let him buck and moan and sob as nonsense falls from his mouth. 

Incoherent pleas of, ‘love’ and ‘good’, and ‘more’. 

You keep one arm pressed against his hips, stopping him from thrashing too much. Slowly you start to avoid his prostate, just skim along the edges of it, until he whines. Almost delirious under your touch. “Looove!” 

You chuckle, pulling off his cock and chuckle before going back to stroking and stretching him wide. 

“Shit, ah, thank you, I-” He swallows, gasping for air and then quickly his hands are on your shoulders, pushing you back. “Wait, love, wait, too much, sorry.”

You removed your fingers instantly, sitting up as panic chills your veins. “You okay?” 

“Good,” he breathes in deeply, “really good. Too good.” He gives you a lopsided smile. “Didn’t want to cum.” 

You smile back as his words soothe you. “I thought I’d hurt you.” 

His eyebrows pinch together in concern. “Oh love, no, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“I know.” You give him a kiss and he chases after your mouth as you pull away. 

You giggle. “I’ll be right back.” You quickly move away to the bathroom to wash your hands. 

When you come back Steven has moved a little, now sitting more fully on the bed. He grins at you. “You’re wearing too many clothes.” 

“Oh?” You mock surprise as you approach him. “Am I?” 

“Yes,” he grabs hold of you playfully and pulls you into an embrace as he kisses all over your face and neck. “Far too many.” 

His hands are so warm, and you giggle as he slips them under your clothes, removing them like he was unwrapping a gift. He kisses your chest, lavishing attention on each breast before pulling you back down on top of him. 

You let out a little squeak of surprise as he gently manhandles you into the position he wants - your thighs on either side of his head. 

“Steven-”

“Hmm?” He asks innocently, pushing down on your hips so that your knees slide wider and your pussy inches closer to his waiting mouth. 

“This is meant to be about you.” Your voice comes out weak and breathless. 

“Oh, it is.” He whispers, leaning up and running a board, flat lick across your centre, and moaning loudly. The vibrations run up and along your clit. 

You bite your lips together, trying to gain some kind of control over yourself as your toes curl and eyes roll back at the slow swipes of his tongue. 

“Good job this is what I want then, isn’t it?” Steven mutters, his eyes dark and hungry before diving back to your folds and pressing you down to his waiting mouth.

“Steven,” you bite your lips together to hold back a moan, your right hand flying to the headboard, your left hand to his soft curls. 

He wraps his arm around your waist, pushing down on your hips and rocking you back and forth against him, urging you to buck and grind on his tongue. 

You can't help yourself, your muscles moving on instinct as you obey his commands without thinking.

Pleasure sparks low in your belly as he swirls his tongue over your clit, lightly scraping at you with his teeth before he curls his tongue through your folds and slips inside. You gasp, following his hypnotising rhythm as the familiar heat begins to build. 

There’s a dull scratch of his stubble against your thighs as you ride him.

The bridge of his nose presses against your clit as he fucks his tongue deeper into you, groaning at every pull of his hair and every sound that falls from your lips. 

His fingers dig in and bruise your skin, trying to bring you closer, urge you nearer despite the fact that you are as physically close as possible. It’s never enough for Steven, always hungry and desperate for more. More of your sounds, your taste, your warm, soft skin against his.

If you let him, he’d never stop. Would be content to spend the rest of his days with his head between your thighs. 

Your toes start to curl, muscles clenching as the heady build of your orgasm begins to crest. So close, so close, so close. But you don’t want it yet. 

You push on his forehead with the palm of your hand, moving your hips back and away from him. “Steven,” you breathe as his mouth chases after you, your words sounding indistinct from sighs of pleasure. You push against his head harder. 

“Steven.” You try to inject some firmness into your voice, managing it barely. 

He stops, his grip on your waist and thighs still tight, but he flops his head back against the pillows as he stares up at you. His eyes dark and hooded with lust, your slick covering the bottom half of his face. He’s breathing deep, his eyes dark, and his dick throbbing against his stomach. Hot and needy. 

“You okay love?” He swallows as he asks, his chest heaving and you can feel the strain in his arms, the twitch of muscle as he fights with himself not to pull you back down onto his face. 

You give him a sickeningly sweet smile, “Good, really good. Too good.” You repeat his previous words back at him. “Didn’t want to cum.” 

“Love-”

“Wanna cum with you.” 

He groans, biting his lip as his eyes roll back. He swallows and nods rapidly, almost as if he is afraid to speak and voice his deep-down urges. 

You grin as you wiggle free of his grip, placing a quick kiss on his lips as you get off him and stand by the bed. 

Steven sits up to watch you put the strap on, his eyes fixated on every movement. “Is it comfortable?” He breathes when you’ve adjusted it. 

You nod.

He smiles, a little pinch of anxiety loosening. 

You go to reach for the lube, but Steven clears his throat. 

“Erm, love?” He waits until you look at him to continue. “Could I, erm, I mean, you can say no, if you don’t want to, I mean, could I maybe…?”

You stay quiet, not wanting to interrupt him. But you gently place your hand on his cheek, softly stroking his skin. 

He swallows. “Could I suck it?” 

A little smile pulls at your lips. “You wanna suck it?” 

Steven nods, fiddling with his fingers. 

“Get on your knees then.” You whisper, your voice low. 

He moves fast, quickly scrambling off the bed and to his knees on the floorboards. You chuckle, stepping back slightly to give him some room. But Steven’s hands go to your hips, reaching around to knead and squeeze your ass and pull you closer. 

He licks his lips, staring at the strap, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. Slowly he places a kiss to the very tip before ducking down to the very base and licking back up to the head, something you realise he has learnt from how you please him. 

He takes the tip into his mouth, easing down slowly and bobbing back up. A low groan building in his chest. 

“Fuck.” You whisper under your breath, almost too quiet for Steven to hear. Something about him there, on his knees, just does it for you. 

With a little more force than you intend, you take hold of a handful of hair at the back of his head and push him deeper. 

Steven moans louder. His eyes immediately snap open so he can stare up at you, lustful and cock dumb as salvia drips down his chin to mingle with your wetness that is still covering his skin. 

He pushes against the strap ever so slightly, purposefully grinding the base of it against your clit and you gasp. 

His dick twitches at the sound. 

He swallows around the strap, easing further down, the silicon disappearing into his throat. 

You pull him off with a harsh tug on his hair, a string of salvia connecting his mouth to the tip as he gasps for breath. His eyebrows pinched together. 

“I get to fuck you now.” You growl and Steven nods his head swiftly. 

He leans back and grabs the lube off the bed and hands it to you as he stands. 

“How do you want to do it?” You ask as you pour a generous helping all over the length. 

“Well,” a slight blush graces his cheeks, touches the tips of his ears. “I was reading,” another flash of Steven furiously jerking off at his desk in front of the laptop as he was ‘researching’ plays behind your eyes, “and there’s, erm, this position that’s meant to be really good.” He shifts his weight back and forth for a second before moving. 

He places both hands on the edge of the bed, spreads his legs on the floor, and leans forward like he’s doing a slightly adapted version of a downward dog. “And, I was thinking-” His sharp intake of breath cuts off his words as you pour more lube against his entrance. 

“You want me to fuck you like this?” 

He nods, his lip back between his teeth. “Uh huh.” 

You lean forward a little and his shoulder blade. “I think we can do that.” 

He groans at your words, the sounds growing in pitch as you press the tip of the strap against his hole. 

“You okay? You need me to warm you up some more?” 

“No, please, I’m good, keep going, keep,” he pushes back against you, trying to work the dildo into himself on his own. 

You chuckle a little at his eagerness, sliding your hand down to his right hip to steady him as you painstakingly slowly thrust forward. It sinks into him. Steven lets out a satisfied moan as the bulbous head inches past his tight ring of muscle. His hands fist at the bedsheet. 

You can take your eyes off how it just disappears into him. The way he stretches around it, completely split open. You swear quietly under your breath and pull his cheeks apart ever so slightly so you can experience the full view as he greedily swallows the strap. 

“Fuck, Steven, you look so good like this.” 

He moans in response, his eyes screwing up in bliss, feeling so full. The thickness of the strap in him, your hands on him, the heat of your skin as the front of your thighs kiss against the backs of his. It’s almost too much. 

His cock throbs painfully hard, heavy, and pleading for relief. So persistent it’s almost maddening. 

Finally, you bottom out, your hips flush against him. You ease out again slowly, savouring the torturous pace as you pull back until the tip is barely inside before sinking in. 

“You look so good like this Steven,” you praise and delight in his little whimper. “So good taking all of this for me.” 

He nods rapidly, eyes screwed shut. He shifts a little as you slide back into him, dropping to his elbows against the bed. 

“Next time, shit,” you start to move a little faster. The press of the strap against your clit burning deliciously. “Next time, I’m gonna take photos of you split open like this.”

He moans wantonly. 

“Gonna take a video of how well you take me. Of what a good boy you are.” You slide deeper, brushing against his prostate and Steven keens, his back arching. “Gonna watch it every day, gonna touch myself and cum looking at you,” warmth spread along your veins, tightening in your core. 

“Oh fuck, please, please, please,” he grinds back into your every thrust, needing you deeper, harder, craving anything you would give. Words pile up in his mind, so many that it’s practically impossible for them all to fall out of his mouth. He wants you, needs you, everywhere. Everything you could possibly do to him. He’ll suffocate without it. 

Pleasure sparks up from the base of his spine, tightening his muscles and he’s so, so close to just falling into it. 

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease,” he slurs, “take videos of me,” he whines, too cockdumb to have any verbal filter. “Split me open, fuck, post them online, I want everyone to seee- Ah!” He sobs as you thrust particularly deep, and you focus all your energy on hitting the same spot over and over. 

“You want everyone to see Steven?” You lean forward, hissing in his ear. “You want everyone to see how well you can take it?” Want them all to cum looking at you.” 

“Ohshit!” He can’t help it, the thought of it, it’s too much. He tenses, moaning loudly. Every muscle clenches as he cums, spilling thick ropes all over the side of the bed and floorboard. Splashes hitting his stomach. He had intended to warn you when he was close, but now he just can’t stop as he convulses through his orgasm, the pleasure twisting and building impossibly in his stomach. 

You kiss his shoulder blade and start to slow your hips. 

“No, no, no, no,” he reaches around to grab hold of your hips, moving back against you. “Please, please, keep going, I think I can, ah!” He rocks on the balls on his feet as you start thrusting again. “I think I can cum again, please.” 

You groan at how he leans back into you, his breathy, needy, desperate whines, all of it combines to make you lightheaded. 

Steven grabs at your right hand, his eyes half closed, mouth hanging open. For a moment you think he just wants to link fingers but he quickly moves it to his head. 

“Pull, pull my hair, please, pull me back, just- fuck!”

You do as he asks, taking a large fistful of hair and yanking him towards your chest. He moans loudly as you pull, his spine arching, his throat bobbing as it bends under your grip. He barely manages to keep hold of the bed with both hands, his thighs shaking with the effort of keeping himself upright. 

It’s like there’s a snap in his abdomen releasing bliss and pleasure overwhelms every thought.

He sobs out your name as he cums again. Every nerve shaking. And while not much more than a dribble shoots out of his aching cock, he cums harder than he thought possible. It’s like liquid gold explodes along every cell, coating and purifying every single part of him. 

He doesn’t remember blacking out for a second, but he must have because the next thing he knows is that he’s in your arms. Your muscles hold him steady and stop him from falling back and smacking his head against the corner of the bedside table. 

“Steven?” There’s a tiny pinch of panic in your voice that makes his chest hurt. The idea that you’re worried about him, that he caused your worry is almost too much in that moment. 

“I’m fine love, sorry,” he moves to stand fully, taking his weight off of you. ���That was so amazing, I just…” He breathes deeply. 

You keep your arms around him, keep up that steadying hold. “Are you sure you're-” You yelp, the rest of your sentence lost as Steven turns quickly, pulling the strap on out of himself with a wet pop. 

He kisses you deeply, his hands on your cheeks as he slides his tongue into your mouth and groans. 

It’s so sudden that you barely register his movements before he’s turning you around and pressing you back against the bed. (Purposefully avoiding the wet patch he left, with mumbles of how he’d change the bedding later.) 

He unbuckles the strap hastily, his short nails leaving shallow scratches before he throws it to the side. 

“Steve-”

He kneels, dragging your hips to the mattress's edge and spreading your thighs wide. 

Without any pause he quickly slides two thick fingers into your aching heat, groaning low in his chest at your wetness. You gasp as he curls them, finding that perfect spot instantly as he strokes your walls. 

“Steven, you don’t have to-” Your moan cuts off the rest of your words as he leans forward and presses a board, flat lick across your clit. Timing the movement with the caress of his fingers. 

You squirm against his touch, already so worked up, and fight the urge to clamp your legs around his face. 

Steven looked up at you, large puppy dog eyes dark and hungry. 

Heat builds rapidly in your core, the sound of your wetness echoing around the flat. 

He dips his tongue down, slipping in through your folds and into your core just above his fingers. He moans as your muscles tense, never taking his eyes off you. 

His name falls from your lips like a prayer as your rock against him, trying to chase that tantalising pressure. Needing more. 

The movement of his tongue and fingers overtakes and outshines any other possible thought as all you can do is mindlessly buck against his face as you near your high. 

Steven presses deeper, slipping in a third finger and nudging the bridge of his nose against your clit. And fuuccccck.

You cum against him with a wail you’d be embarrassed about if you could formulate thoughts. Every possible thought is overtaken by the sudden wave of pleasure he pulls out of you, drowns you in. Stars dance behind your eyes as your muscles shake. 

Steven laps at you steadily, prolonging your orgasm for as long as possible until you are gasping, tears in your eyes from the overstimulation. 

You place a hand on his shoulder and he slowly withdrawals his fingers, groaning at the white, creamy mess you left on his digits. 

He presses a kiss against your knee as you breathe hard. 

“I think the strap was a success.” He says, quite matter of factly, as if you had just managed to find a slightly quicker route to work. 

You giggle as he glances up at you and pulls a silly face. “Definitely.” 

He pauses for one moment, nuzzling against your thigh. “I, erm, maybe we don’t upload videos of me online though.” He blushes a little and you lean down, kissing him deeply. 

“I know that was just sex talk, those are all for me anyway.” 

He chuckles and kisses you again. “Didn’t… weird you out or anything?” 

You shake your head. “I loved it.” 

“Good.” He leans into your embrace as you wrap your arms around him. 

“Though, if we did upload videos of you,” you tease, “I’m sure we’d make so much money, you could buy all the books you wan-”

You yelp and giggle as Steven tackles you back onto the bed and kisses you roughly. 

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem @oscarisaacsspit @whatthefishh @mbakubabe @solobagginses @romanarose @pimosworld @jake-g-lockley @saturn-rings-writes @boredzillenial @lonelyisamyw-0love

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

#steven grant #moon knight #moon knight mcu #steven grant x reader #x reader #steven grant x you #x you #steven grant x female reader #x female reader #steven grant x f!reader #x f!reader #steven grant x fem!reader #x fem!reader #my writing #fanfic #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters

[bbyquokka]

Hi this is my first time requesting to you so hello! (I’ll send a non-anon ask to you so you can see my profile and age💜)

I was thinking about cockwarming with Hyunjin and it being pure comfort and fluff. I notice in fics that cockwarming always leads to sex but I just want to experience it as is.

Just Hyunjin and the reader being very close with each other cuddling in bed after the she has a bad day at university. He seems like the romantic type who would cherish these types of intimate and vulnerable moments where they can feel safe together. He’d even give her his jiniret plush just to make her smile

warmth

FLUFF/SUGGESTIVE THEMES BELOW CUT – MINORS, AGELESS & DEFAULT BLOGS; DNI

warning: fem bodied reader, uni au, established relationship, pet names, cock warming, reader feels insecure, fluff and comfort, semi proof read. words: 0.7k ~ (724)

dont repost. dont translate. feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated!

“hey darling. how did–oof!” hyunjin groans before laughing softly as you straddle his lap, forehead resting on his shoulder. he wraps his arms around your tired body gently, stroking your back. “rough lecture?”

“yeah.” you mumble against the material of his t-shirt. “i swear this professor hates me.”

“i doubt that darling.” hyunjin laughs softly.

“want cuddles.”

“here or?” you lift your head up and pout, eyes flickering below his waist. “ahhh, ok darling.”

hyunjin picks you up gently and walks to the shared bedroom. he gently places you down on the bed to strip, watching you do the same before getting under the duvet.

hyunjin slides in behind you, lips pressing gently kisses along the back of your neck. his fingers trailing along your sides, feather like touches that drive you insane.

“hyun..” you whimper impatiently. “please.”

“ok ok darling.” he laughs softly before slowly pushing his penis inside you. you both let out soft whimpers and groans, the feeling of being filled and stretched providing you with a strange sense of comfort.

his length is fully inserted, touching untouched territory. your warmth slowly drives hyunjin insane due to the fact that he is addicted to your warmth and how you feel. he presses his chest against your back to provide you with some skin on skin, arm snaking around your midriff and thumb stroking your stomach.

“better?” he softly whispers. you hum softly, giggling as hyunjin kisses your earlobe.

“stopp! that tickles!” you whine. hyunjin carries on for a few seconds before kissing your neck gently.

your walls flutter around hyunjin's length which makes him silently groan. he so badly wants to move but he knows you're not in the mood for sex of any kind. your energy screams 'hold me. i've had a shit day.'

“you're so pretty, you know that right?” hyunjin hums softly. you blush a soft pink, nuzzling into the pillow to hide the embarrassment.

“shh.”

“never. i will keep telling you that you're beautiful and pretty and gorgeous and–”

“ok ok! i–i get it.” you whine. hyunjin laughs before pecking your rose coloured cheeks gently.

“you'll be ok yn. i promise you.”

“will i? i'm starting to doubt that uni is for me..”

“why baby?”

“because everyone around me is so fucking smart and i'm just there. i'm surrounded by all this talent and smartness that it's suffocating but i also feel insufficient. maybe i'm not cut out for uni...” your voice cracks and wobbles. hyunjin furrows his brows before repositioning and reinserting himself so you're facing him.

“my darling.” he cups your cheeks gently, wiping away a few stray tears. “we all have our strengths and weaknesses. you shouldn't compare yourself to others which i know is hard to do when you feel insecure and low but, someone might feel the same way about you.”

“what do you mean?” you whisper.

“well, someone else might be comparing themselves to you. what you think is a weakness about yourself could be what they find strong about you.”

“really?”

“it's possible darling. you shouldn't compare yourself to others. which is hard, i know but you shine in other aspects of life to. you are smart and talented but being smart and talented doesn't necessarily mean what you think it means.”

“no?” you look up at him as he strokes your hair gently.

“you can be smart and talented in many other ways that don't involve solving equations and making art pieces so don't bring yourself down my love. you could hold a piece of knowledge that someone else doesn't know and they could find you smart. just because you struggle in one area doesn't make you any less of a person.”

“hyun...” you sniffle, leaning into his touch. “thank you.”

“anytime darling. do you feel better?” he traces your jawline slowly with the tip of his finger before leaning down.

“much better.” you mumble before pressing your lips against hyunjin's plump ones. the kiss is slow and passionate. his cock still nestled deep inside you, walls fluttering around his length and providing hyunjin with such warmth and comfort.

“i'll always be here for you darling. morning, noon and night and if i'm not here, you have this.” hyunjin hands you his jiniret plush to which you hold close to your chest. “i love you, yn. so so much.”

note: i do love a lil bit of cockwarming with some added fluff !! ty for sending this in, i enjoy writing cockwarming. should really write more of it tbh. don’t forget to leave feedback, reblog and tell me what you think here. i hope you all enjoy! ‹3

tags (open): @sstarryoong ; @unh0ly-dr3am3r ; @septicrebel ; @alyszaen ; @writerracha ; @hyunluvxo ; @aestheticsluut ; @xcookiemonsteer ; @telesvng ; @oshimee

#ꃋᗜꃋ .˳⁺ ( anon ) ♡ #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz hard thoughts #skz hard hours #stray kids hard hours #stray kids hard thoughts #hyunjin #hyunjin x you #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin #hwang hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin x you #hwang hyunjin x reader #skz x reader #skz x you #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader

[nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius]

TBB Incorrect Quotes, Part 11

Tech: You know those frozen lunches Echo likes? Hunter: Yes? Tech: I think they changed the recipe for their macaroni and cheese. Hunter: What makes you say that? Tech: Echo took one bite and is now staring at it like it insulted his mother.

Crosshair: *stubs his toe* FUCK! Hunter: Watch your language! Crosshair: What else am I supposed to say, “Woe is I”??? Hunter: Crosshair: You have to accept that swear words are necessary sometimes.

Echo: *Accidentally hits Hunter in the face* Echo: *Trying to decide between saving 'I'm fucking sorry' and 'Are you okay'* Echo: ARE YOU FUCKING SORRY?! Hunter: What's wrong with you?!

Crosshair: Why is my underwear in the freezer? Tech: You said "this is gonna confuse me so much tomorrow". Tech: Apparently drunk you plays pranks on hungover you. Crosshair: That explains so much.

Echo, to Omega: Please, picking locks is my specialty. Echo: *throws a brick through the window* Echo: Okay, let’s go.

Omega, furious: What do you mean we have homework tonight? I have books to read.

Tech: Look guys, I need help. Echo: Love help? Wrecker: Financial help? Omega: Emotional help? Crosshair: Help moving a body? *Everybody looks at Crosshair* Crosshair: What?

Hunter: Here are two pictures. One of them is your room, and the other is the garbage dump. Wrecker: *points at a picture* That one is the dump. Hunter: tHEY'RE BOTH YOUR ROOM!

Crosshair, tearing up the room: Where are they? Crosshair, looking under a pillow: Who moved them? Who moved my children? Crosshair: Somebody moved my M&M's, and now I am going to start killing.

Hunter: WHOEVER CAUSED THIS MESS IS GOING TO- Omega: It was me... Hunter: ...Is going to be forgiven because everyone deserves a second chance.

Hunter: You are irrationally angry 365 days a year. Crosshair: Well, that’s just your personal opinion, I don’t have anger issues. Do you guys think I have anger issues? Tech: Well, I wouldn’t really call it an issue. An issue is something you can fix.

Echo: Crosshair isn’t answering my messages. Wrecker: Allow me. Echo: I tried 6 times, what makes you thi- Crosshair: *replying to message* Hello.

Omega: Who hurt you? Crosshair: *snorting* What, do you want a list? Omega: ...Yes, actually.

Crosshair: Hey, quick question. How petty am I allowed to be?

Echo: I've been expecting you, Omega. Omega: How did you do that without turning around? Echo: Let's just say the first few people I did that to were not you.

Crosshair: It's against my moral compass. Tech: Your moral compass is a roulette wheel.

Wrecker: I just heard Crosshair call the dog a “fucking liar” because it barked like someone was at the door and no one was there.

Omega: Do you have any idea what you’re doing? Crosshair: Why start now?

Echo: You three, explain right now! Omega: It was Wrecker. Crosshair: It was Wrecker. Tech: It was Wrecker. Wrecker: Wrecker: …fuck.

Tech: Here’s the cold medicine you asked for. Tech: *dumps 3 shopping bags of wine on the table* Crosshair: ...Thanks.

Tech: Just so everyone knows, don't ever try to climb a tree at night carrying a strobe light, owls DON'T like it. Hunter: ...what happened? Tech: I made a VERY bad mistake.

Echo: If it pleases the court I would like to say that my opponent is TALKING SHIT!

Tech: Valentine’s day is just a consumerist holiday that holds no real value other than drive people insane buying heart shaped chocolates for their significant others and pos- Phee: I wrote you a poem. Tech, already crying: You did?

Hunter: I have an idea. Omega: A good idea? Hunter: Let's not get ahead of ourselves.

Tech: A butterfly! Hey, little guy, gal or nonbinary pal! Wrecker: Can a butterfly be nonbinary? Tech: I mean, maybe? I don't judge. Hunter, staring dreamily out of the window: Ah, have you ever imagine having butterfly wings? Then- Crosshair: Then it would be inconvenient as fuck. Your wings would smack every doorframe and your clothes would have to have holes in the back. Omega: Also, your wing's paper thin, so even a six year old aimed a NERF gun at it would... Yeah... Wrecker: *sips coffee* According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way that a- Hunter: No, nononono. You fuckers have already shattered my dream, you don't get the fucking privilege to make that reference. Echo: Also, it's about a butterfly, not a bee... Why would you make that reference? Tech: You clearly have not lived with him long enough.

Echo: Does anyone know how to relax? Asking for a friend.

*Casually in the Middle of a High Stakes/Dangerous Situation* Wrecker: How do you eat pickles? Tech: What do you mean? Wrecker: I mean, there's a whole process. It's not like you can grab them from the jar with your hand, because it's cold and the juice burns if you have a cut, plus, it's pretty unsanitary. And you can't use a spoon because you'll have to scoop it out, and it'll be way too difficult to grab more than three or four without taking 10 minutes along with half the brine in the jar, even if it's one with holes. Tech: Yeah, that's why you use a fork. Wrecker: Okay, sure, but what if you don't have one of the big ones clean? It's weird to use a small one. But there is always one of those smaller sharp knives clean. Tech: But the straight edge doesn't really fit the cylindrical shape, and you have to make sure you don' t break it, it's too much work. Wrecker: It makes me feel like I deserve the pickles though. Like, "Yeah, I did it. That's right. Good job me." It's empowering. But even after that, it's not like you can use a bowl. Tech: I get that, it's not ascetically pleasing. Wrecker: Exactly! And it looks weird if you don't entirely fill the bowl, but you also can't eat that many. My solution: Use a mug. Tech: *Nods in agreement* Hunter: That is all very interesting, BUT WE'RE TRYING NOT TO DIE RIGHT NOW! USE YOUR LIMITED ATTENTION SPANS AND FOCUS! Wrecker: Jeez, okay. Tech: Quit yelling at us already.

Omega: Do you know a tortoise’s only weakness? Wrecker: No... well, their slowness. Omega: Their weakness is they can't roll over when they are on their backs. Omega: Now I have a plan. Omega: If I duct tape two tortoises together, they'll be unstoppable.

Wrecker: *on the phone* Hey Hunter, do you know my blood type?  Hunter: Of course, it's B-.  Wrecker: Oh, I guessed wrong. Excuse me, nurse-! 

Hunter: Guess who just found out the difference between wax paper and parchment paper the hard way? Echo: Wait, what’s the difference? Hunter: One you can use in the oven safely, and the other you can also use in the oven... if the thing you are trying to make happens to be fire.

Tech: Echo, keep an eye on Crosshair today. He’s going to say something to the wrong person and get punched.  Echo: Sure, I'd love to see Crosshair getting punched.  Tech: Try again.  Echo, sighing: I will try to stop Crosshair from getting punched.

Hunter: Tech… Tech: Oh, no. “Tech” in B-flat. Tech: You’re disappointed.

*Omega and Wrecker are arguing* Omega: I hope your sock falls off into your shoe! Wrecker: I hope both sides of your pillow are warm! Omega: I hope you get an itch on your back that you can’t reach! Wrecker: *gasp* Wrecker: I HOPE YOU STEP IN A WET SPOT AFTER PUTTING CLEAN SOCKS ON Omega: I HOPE YOUR PHONE STOPS CHARGING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT! Wrecker: I HOPE THERE’S NO MILK WHEN YOU GO TO MAKE CEREAL! Crosshair, to Echo: Should we do something? Echo: Not yet. These are getting creative, I want to hear more.

Crosshair: Hostage or not, sometimes it's nice to be held. Tech: Tech: Are you okay?

#tbb incorrect quotes #incorrect bad batch quotes #incorrect quotes #star wars #the bad batch #tbb #i needed a break from revision

[bts-trans]

230310 Big Hit's Tweet

[네이버 포스트] 슈가에게 취하는 타임,, 오늘은 화보천재 민윤기에게 취한ㄷr,,, (@ https://naver.me/I5cnoxSW) #BTS #방탄소년단 #SUGA #슈가 #민윤기

[Naver Post] Time to get drunk on SUGA,, Getting drunk on photobook-genius Min Yoongi,,,

Naver Post Translation

Keep reading for a plain text version of the blog post! For a picture edit version, please check out our twitter post or the HD version on our website!

[BTS] Me, Myself, and SUGA 비하인드 포스트

[BTS] Me, Myself, and SUGA Behind-the-Scenes Post

아-하!

Hi-A!

(T/N: Stands for ‘Hi ARMY’, which is how Bangbell always starts these posts.)

아미들 안녕하세요! 방림이 입니다. 요즘 아침에는 춥고,, 낮에는 덥고,, 밤에는 다시 춥고,, 옷을 어떻게 입으라는 건지,,~ 차암나,,,

Hello ARMYs! It’s Bangbell. These days it’s very cold in the mornings,, hot during the day,, then cold again at night,, What clothes am I even supposed to wear,,~ Sigh,,,

(대충 아미들은 머릿속으로 떠오르는 계절감 모르겠는 유닛 라이브 짤)

(Most ARMYs are probably thinking of that clip from the unit live where you couldn’t tell what season it was)*

(T/N: A reference to Jin’s birthday live on December 4, 2018, when he, Jimin, and RM were all wearing such different styles of clothes that fans joked they couldn’t even tell what season it was based on how they were dressed.)

저는 오늘 진 처럼 맨투맨을 입었는데 딱이더라고요,, 아미들은 진? 지민? RM? 누구처럼 입었나요,,, (아니 이게 주제가 아닌데)

Today I’m wearing a crewneck just like Jin and I think that’s just right,, ARMYs who are you more dressed like? Jin? Jimin? RM?,,, (No wait this isn’t the main topic)

아무튼 방림이가 아미들에게 금요일,,! 곧 다가오는 주말을 위해 조금만 더 힘을 내라고 포스트를 들고 찾아왔읍니다,, (찡긋)

Anyways Bangbell has brought ARMYs this Friday,,! a post telling you to keep going for the sake of the fast-approaching weekend,, (wink)

Special 8 Photo-Folio의 마. 지. 막. 을 장식할 주인공이죠! Me, Myself, and SUGA ‘Wholly or Whole me’ 비하인드 포스트입니다! (박수) (함성)

The person who will grace the very. end. of. the Special 8 Photo-Folio! It’s the behind-the-scenes post for Me, Myself, and SUGA ‘Wholly or Whole me’

(Applause)

(Cheers)

이번 화보는 바쁜 일상 속에 진짜 “나=민윤기” 를 만나볼 수 있는 순간을 화보로 풀어보았다고 해요! 화보의 전체 콘셉트 및 아이템들을 슈가의 의도와 취향이 반영된 것들로 꾸미고, 가장 슈가 다운 모습을 촬영하여 아미와 함께 공유하고 싶었다는데요!

In this photobook it’s said that we’ll be able to meet the real “Me = Min Yoongi” within his busy daily life through this photobook! The photobook’s overall concept and items are decorated according to SUGA’s design and style, And I wanted to share this with ARMY because they captured SUGA in his most authentic form!

민윤기,,,,, 오늘도 GOSO,, 하기 전에!

Min Yoongi,,,,, before I sue you*,, today as well!

(T/N: *An inside joke that came from when an ARMY playfully threatened to sue SUGA at a 2014 fansign for being too handsome.)

바로 비하인드 사진 만나러 가봐야죠!

Let’s go check out the behind-the-scenes photos!

혹시,, 혼자 오셨을까요,,,? 저도 혼자인데 같이 캠핑하실,,ㅋ? 물론 요리도 님이 하셔야하고,,, 운전도 님이 하셔야하지만,, 님과 함께하고 싶어요,,, 저 푸른 초원 위에,, ㅋ (그만)

Did you perhaps,, come alone,,,? I’m also by myself so would you maybe want to camp togeth,, ha? Of course you sir have to do the cooking,,, and you have to do the driving but,, I want to be together with you sir,,, On the prairie*,, ha (stop)

(T/N: *Referencing the lyrics from the song “With My Love” by Nam Jin)

민윤기 레전드 머리 등장 방림이 심장이 멎다. -삐—……

Min Yoongi’s legendary hairstyle has made an appearance Bangbell’s heart has stopped. -Beeeep—……

민윤기 얼��� 걍 기절이야.. 뭐야.. 나 이제 지도도 부러워해야 하는거임?

Min Yoongi’s face could just make me faint.. What even.. Should I be jealous of the map now too?

내가 이제,,, 무슨 말을 더 해야 하니,,,, (지침) 갱얼쥐야,, 너는,, 좋겠다,,,

What more,,, could I even possibly say,,,, (exhausted) Puppy,, you,, must be very happy,,,

자연광 + 민윤기 = 재질 걍 미쳤음 그냥,,,, 미쳤다는 말 밖에는,,,,, 할 말 X,,,

Natural lighting + Min Yoongi = Insane quality I just,,,, have X words left to say,,,,, except that it’s insane,,,

민슈가 사진 치과에 걸어두면 좋겠다… 보는 내내 입을 다물 수가 없어서 치료에 효과적일 듯 (;;) ㄴ ㄹㅇㅋㅋ

I wish I could hang up Min Suga’s photos at the dentist’s office…It seems like you wouldn’t be able to close your mouth while looking at them so it would be effective for dental treatment (;;) ㄴ For real haha

민윤기,, 세상에 있는 멋짐을 다 가졌구나,,, (안 무겁나?;;)

Min Yoongi,, I see you’ve taken all of the coolness in the world ,,, (Isn’t it heavy?;;)

방림이 힘들어요,,, 지금 벌써 고소장 309개 째 쓰고있단말이예요,,, (퀭)

Bangbell is going through it,,, I’ve already been writing 309 complaint forms,,, (sighs)

좋다,,, 이거 바로 그냥 배경화면 해 버려.

Nice,,, Just gonna make this my wallpaper.

엥 ? 누가 마쉬멜로우고 누가 민윤기란말임 도대체 누가 더 말랑하단말임?

Huh? Which one is a marshmallow and which one is Min Yoongi Which one would be the squishiest?

하 분위기 뭔데,, 방림이 인생에는 위기만 있는데,, 민윤기 사진 분위기 뭐냐고,,, ㅠ,,,,??? 저 옆자리에 방림이만 있으면 아주 그냥 딱 인데 ㄴ 아미 : ??? (흐린눈)

Ha what is this mood,, There’s only chaos in Bangbell’s life,, What’s the mood of Min Yoongi’s photos,,, ㅠ,,,,??? If Bangbell was in that spot next to him then it’d be just absolutely perfect ㄴ ARMY : ??? (blissfully ignores)

바람에 날린 앞머리 마저 귀.여.워. 민. 윤. 기. 귀. 여. 워. (기절)

Even his bangs fluttering in the wind are c.u.t.e. Min. Yoon. Gi. Is. Cute. (faints)

슈가만의 분위기와 무드가 가득한 Me, Myself, and SUGA ‘Wholly or Whole me’ ! 방림이의 비하인드 잘 구경하셨나요?! 포토북 기다리는 아미들은 방림이 포스트 보면서 조금만 기다려주기!

Me, Myself, and SUGA ‘Wholly or Whole me’ was full of SUGA’s unique ambiance and mood ! Did you enjoy Bangbell’s behind-the-scenes look?! For the ARMYs who are waiting for the photobook please wait a little more while you look at Bangbell’s post!

주말 잘 보내고, 기분좋게 마무리 하길 바라요 아미들! 이번주도 고생 많았어요! (하트)

Have a great weekend, and I hope you end the week on a happy note ARMYs! You’ve worked hard again this week! (heart)

아-뿅!

A-Poof!

(T/N: Short for “Bye ARMY! Poof!”, which is how Bangbell always ends these posts.)

[Note]

본 포스트는 BIGHIT MUSIC에서 직접 운영하는 포스트입니다.

This Naver Post is personally run by BIGHIT MUSIC.

[End Note]

Trans cr; Ali Typeset cr; Archillea @ bts-trans © TAKE OUT WITH FULL CREDITS

#230310 #suga #yoongi #big hit #official #twitter #naver #post #bangbell #blogpost #me myself and suga #bts #bangtan #photos

[topguncortez]

Could you do 67 Hot in Herre w/ Rooster and Pregnant wife (?)

pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x female!reader warnings: smutty (no actual peen in the vageen), language, cursing, Rooster can't keep his hands to himself Rooster Bradshaw Masterlist | Main Masterlist 3 fucking K celebration :)

When you found out that you and Rooster were expecting a baby together, you were both over the moon excited. Rooster had always wanted a family of his own, after losing his own so young. The moment that he had met you, he knew that you were the one for him. The one that he was going to love forever. The one that was going to be the perfect wife and mother.

You had never seen a man so obsessed with their partners pregnancy like Bradley was. He had books on books about pregnancy and fetal development. He was always at every appointment and had questions to ask your OB. He was so attentive to every little change in your body and mood. Bradley could tell that something was wrong with just one singular sigh out of your mouth.

Bradley deserved an award when it came to your mood swings. He handled them all with stride, wiping the tears from your cheeks or getting you food at whatever time of the day. And probably the favorite. . . have sex whenever you needed it.

You had never been hornier in your life than you are at six months pregnant. You were feeling great in the second trimester, you were still pretty mobile and not feeling like you were too big yet. Rooster was loving every second of it. He felt like the sex the two of you were having was some of the best yet.

Rooster was currently sitting at his desk in the study. He had his glasses on (which he would never admit to his fellow aviators that he wore) as he read through different emails. You were upstairs, smirking at yourself in the mirror at the lingerie set you had on. You had yelled at Bradley this morning for eating the last chocolate chip muffin. He had come home with replacement muffins from your favorite bakery, which made you tear up. So you wanted to make it up to him.

The lingerie set was a soft baby blue silk bra and underwear. You paired it with a matching robe. You curled your hair and put on light makeup, trying to look as sexy as you can at six months pregnant. Your bump was on display, which you knew was going to drive Bradley insane.

"Oh, Rooster!" You called out, walking down the stairs. Bradley smirked as he heard his callsign fall from your lips. He knew you had one thing on your mind since he walked in with chocolate chip muffins.

"In here, baby!" Bradley called back. He sat back in his chair, closing his eyes and folded his hands behind his head. He opened an eye at the sound of your footsteps walking into the office. He sat up quickly, his jaw dropping at the sight of you.

"Well, hello there, Mrs. Bradshaw," Bradley smirked, taking his glasses off and setting them down on the desk. You bit your lip as you walked over to him. He pulled you in and sat you down on his knee, "What are you doing?"

"I thought you deserved a thank you for putting up with me and bringing me muffins," You said, draping your arms around his neck. You gently placed a hand on his cheek, and kissed him.

"Mm," Bradley said, "It's the least I can do, baby. Got all dressed up for me?" His hand went to your bare bump, rubbing the skin softly.

"I did," You kissed his cheek, trailing your lips up to his ear, "All for you. . . daddy."

"What do you need, baby?"

"You," You pouted and ran your hands down his chest, "I need you, baby, please."

Bradley chuckled, "Seriously, when are you never horny?"

"It's because of you!" You gently slapped his chest, "You just. . . ugh! You just walk around like sex on two legs and I want to climb you like a tree?"

"Oh really?" Bradley smirked, and picked up your body enough to set you on his desk. You nodded and watched as Bradley sunk to his knees in front of you, "Well, I better not keep a girl waiting any longer."

#top gun #top gun fan fic #top gun fan fiction #top gun imagine #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fan fic #top gun maverick fan fiction #top gun maverick imagine #Bradley Bradshaw #Bradley Bradshaw fan fic #Bradley Bradshaw fan fiction #Bradley Bradshaw imagine #Bradley Bradshaw x reader #Bradley Bradshaw x you #Bradley Bradshaw x y/n #Bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #rooster #rooster fan fic #rooster fan fiction #rooster imagine #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster x y/n

[joelsgreys]

🍂 joelsgreys weekly recap 🍂

hello friends! this week was a doozy, but i’m glad that i still got to sit down and read a bit. not much to say other than: THANK YOU to all the writers in the community for treating us to such amazing works.

fic recs

here’s some of what i read this week, in no particular order! not all fics i read are halloween themed so here’s the key below.

🎃 indicates halloween themed fic.

🔥 indicates smut, please be sure to heed all tags/warnings by the author, all blogs and works are 18+ only, MINORS DNI.

to freeze or to thaw by @joelscruff 🔥

Dark Joel Miller x Female Reader

Summary: Joel stole you away to be his special girl.

tender is the night [for a broken heart] by @hier--soir

Ex Boyfriend Joel Miller x Female Reader

Summary: a birthday dinner gets interrupted by a drunk ex, who still can't say the words you need to hear.

looking back by @eupheme 🔥

Joel Miller x Female Reader

Summary (kinda): “Fuck. I need you.” He rasps - an edge to his voice, “Would you let me look at you, honey? Just let me look.”

trick or treat by @tieronecrush 🔥🎃

Joel Miller x Wife Reader

Summary: it's halloween and Joel’s taking your girls trick-or-treating with you in a family costume. feeling uncomfortable in his clothes and his skin, he's on edge most of the evening but does his best to disguise it in order to not spoil the fun. back at home, when his girls lightheartedly tease him about everything he already thought about himself, you're sure to end the night showing joel exactly how you feel about him and his body.

creep it real! by @swiftispunk 🔥🎃

DBF Joel Miller x Female Reader

Summary: a masked angel. a rugged cowboy. you're the answer to Joel's prayers...until he realizes who you are.

birds of a feather by @softlyspector

Joel Miller & Sarah Miller

Summary: Sarah is going to kindergarten. Joel is forced to reckon with his differences with the other parents.

Divine Dynasty THE PREQUEL by @cavillscurls

AU Mafia Joel Miller x Female Reader

Summary: Joel graciously hosts your twenty-first birthday party at his estate. You are both finally forced to acknowledge the feelings you have been harboring for one another.

Chapter Five of Deliver Me From Nowhere by @atinylittlepain

Joel Miller x OFC Reader

Again, no summary but this series is insanely amazing.

Hallow’seams by @fuckyeahdindjarin 🎃

Joel Miller x Female Reader

Summary: Joel proves to you that he can be adventurous if he wants to be.

A HEART FOR EATING by @narxisus

Joel Miller x Female Reader

vol. 2

Series Summary: a vicious raider attack robs you of human connection and lights a fire of destruction in your life in jackson. Joel's fixated on you, and your lives tangle. revenge becomes a needful thing.

Red Light by @kiwisbell 🔥

Dark Landlord Joel Miller x Female Reader

Summary: The men you keep bringing home are no good for you. It's up to your landlord Joel to protect you from heartbreak.

chapter two of a lover’s pinch by @hier--soir 🔥

Professor Joel Miller x Female Reader

Summary: will a complicated realisation drive you and Joel apart, or drag you closer together?

Juniper by @softlyspector 🔥

Joel Miller x Female Reader

Summary: You're sleepy. Joel knows a good way to put you to sleep.

beautiful halloween divider by @saradika 🤍

#weekly recap #vee’s recs #fic recs