#anyway has there ever been more of a Man no. no there has not been

[tremendum]

Mr. Miller's Injury ; Mr. Miller viii

[not my gif] pairing: joel miller x fem!reader (afab, some use of she/her, use of the words girl/woman) rating: explicit. [18+. mdni] word count: 7.8k summary:  ❝"you aren't doing anything, Mr. Miller," you tilt your head, bending to fit level with his face. "if you recall, you're too injured to even leave the bed."❞ warnings: storm vibes, fairly tame compared to other parts, being stood up, dom!reader, sub!joel (FINALLYYYY), brief slapping, injured!Joel, anger, spitting, brief edging, choking, PiV unprotected, this is porn with no plot, masturbation, slight voyeurism, begging, degradation, age gap kink if you squint, calling joel 'old man', v brief praise kink, lots of pet names SORRY notes: thank u all for ur patience, it's been SO LONG. I am sorry this isn't the longest update but i hope you still enjoy! switching things up a bit bc they're learning to Talk about their Feelings <3 finally <3 there will be another update v v soon as well!!! hope you all enjoy. [previous. this is part eight of the Mr. Miller series.] [masterlist]

[important - i no longer use a taglist. I've made a notifs blog - @tremendumnotifs - for ppl to follow for notifications. tysm!!] ★  

to say you're pissed is an understatement. 

forty-five minutes, you huff as you stare at the ground, forty-five minutes standing alone, looking like a fool in this fucking dress. 

the rain sloshes down on you, sending muddy streams down the sidewalk and under your boots to kiss the streetwater. it's been raining for days - ever since that black out the other night, it's barely let up; you're getting permanently used to your hair heavy from the drops. you glare sharply down at yourself, watching as sheets of water slap against your soaked corduroy jacket - the vibrant thread that sewed it together again all those weeks ago wilted by the water. you pull your jacket tighter over yourself, as if that could help at all. 

you shouldn't fucking be out here right now, getting soaked to the bone. 

sighing harshly, you squint up the street to your own house, lights off and waiting sadly; when you'd left, you'd expected not to return until the morning, anyways. 

but here you are, an hour later, dateless and more furious than you've been in ages.

you feel like a fucking idiot.  

serves you right for trusting that Joel would bother to put on a nice button-up and walk down to the bar to see you. 

you try not to glare against the rain when you pass his house; the lights are glowing from the upstairs window, and your blood boils - he's probably in there sitting around doing nothing because he's too terrified to be a man and face you in person. the bitter taste in your mouth only grows at your brief concern - you didn't see him yesterday at all, but you'd just assumed he was on patrol. 

you're about fifteen steps away from your your front door, already planning on downing a whole bottle of liquor in your bathtub by the time you hear it. 

someone shouting your name. 

turning your neck, you spot Ellie, waving her arm from only twenty feet away; the onslaught of drops has quickened, and you can't hear what she's saying. gritting your teeth, you trudge over to her, trying to hide your exasperation, "what's going on?" 

"been looking for you!" is what she shouts as you walk towards her, shouting through the rain. "-just asking where you've been lookin' like that." she gestures to your dress, one definitely meant to wear at backyard barbecues and not in the middle of torrential downpours. she pulls you by the wrist onto their porch; the lights flicker slightly and it's just barely less dry - you ignore the wall behind you, thinking back to all those months ago when Joel'd had his cock shoved down your throat with your head pressed up against it. 

you blink away the memory, anger simmering in your stomach; you ignore the heat in your abdomen. 

"I had plans." you grunt, crossing your arms. her brows raise doubtfully; so full of sass for a teen. "you seen Joel lately?" you ask, hoping to sound nonchalant; she must pick up on the anger that flows from you; frowning, she jerks her head, "seen him? that's why I was lookin' for you. I've been babying him all day." 

you stare at her, lifting a brow. "babying?" you parrot. 

she frowns, tilting her head; the water sprays in a mist onto you, out of the direct exposure but still splattering fat sheets of rain onto your ankles. "didn't Tommy tell you?" she asks, but you're nearly out of patience. 

you sigh sharply, "no, I haven't seen Tommy. been busy all day at the gardens dealin' with this shit."

this shit has been stressing you out beyond belief - a near monsoon in fucking Wyoming, drowning the crops you very desperately need for the commune. root rot is one thing, but losing all the food you'll need for months is something else. 

"well, neither have I, but if you see him, tell him I could use a hand with his brother." Ellie sasses, arms crossing. for a moment, you nearly laugh - she's standing like Joel, a look of defiance in her eyes. she huffs, "I've been trying to keep Joel in bed, but you know how stubborn he can be. he got injured on patrol yesterday."

a flicker of concern betrays the anger in your heart. you blink at Ellie. "injured? he's injured?"

she glances towards the door then back at you, her own shirt pelted with rainwater. "he dislocated his shoulder. it's pretty bad."

you let out an exasperated sigh; that's where he's been? fucking injured and didn't bother to tell you? you purse your lips, feigning calm as you actively fight off the sense of embarrassment at your own irritation. "I can help you, don't worry." you promise, wishing you'd had a chance to change out of the dress. "if you want a break, I'll make sure he doesn't kill himself for a while." even if you wish he would. 

she smiles, nodding as she turns on her heels, "thank you - you know how he is. didn't even mention he was hurt 'til I found him trying to hide it. been trying to tough it out, I guess."

you follow her into the house, gritting your teeth as you wring water out of your hair. "unbelievable," you mutter under your breath. 

Joel is lying in his bed. 

You resist the arousal that climbs at the vision of him outstretched in bed, propped perfectly on a pillow, hair grown out and curling; instead seething with irritation at him. 

"what the hell is this, Miller?" you say in lieu of a greeting, crossing your arms the second he makes eye contact with you. he's surprised to see you, but not as surprised as you'd hoped.

he looks as terse as ever, eyes darting from you to Ellie, who lingers in the doorway. he grunts, shifting slightly and wincing. "hurt m'self." 

you resist a laugh of disbelief, smiling sarcastically, "I can see that." 

he is too fucking stubborn - you're too fucking stubborn, too; there's a beat, then you give in, "you couldn't have sent someone to tell me not to show up? I looked like a complete dick down there by myself." you snap, wounded. he rolls his eyes, "well I sent her to ya, didn't I?" he snaps, gesturing to Ellie with his good hand. she shakes her head, throwing her hands up, "I don't want any part in...whatever this is." 

she disappears after muttering something about finally getting some peace and quiet - it's silent until you hear her bedroom door slam, the rain pelting down against the windowpanes. 

unable to hide any longer in the quiet, you cross your arms. he sighs. "look..." he mutters, wincing as he sits up slightly. "I'm sorry I couldn't find ya. y'don't deserve t'be sittin' alone by yourself like that." 

you clench your jaw, nodding, "you're right, Joel. I'm sorry you're hurt, I understand, it's just-" your doubts creep back in and you shake your head. "I don't know what I thought." you chicken out, looking away. 

you hear his breathing; it seems to move with your chest - a patient, quiet breath that waits for your anger to subside. 

"this ain't 2003, sweetheart," he finally says, but there's a warmness in his voice; it is wholly familiar and foreign at the same time. "can't jus' text you to let y'know I fell and dislocated my shoulder." he sighs gruffy; you huff, walking closer to the bed. "yeah, that and if it was 2003, I'd still be learning to ride a bike." 

his eyes are sharp on you - a reminder of that unspoken thing, that tension that lives between you and him, pushes you further "don't." he says lowly, eyeing you stormily as the rain forges on outside. "don't remind me of why I shouldn't be doin' this." 

the hesitation that always lingers between you sneaks up like mist through a forest; you push at it, wading through until you're next to where he reposes in bed. you can't resist the smirk that plays at your lips. "you aren't doing anything, Mr. Miller," you tilt your head, bending to fit level with his face. "if you recall, you're too injured to even leave the bed." 

he hums, eyes stirring with that playfulness that you never quite expect; he tilts his chin up and it's all you can do to not kiss the lips that part beneath you. "c'mere an' make me feel better then, would'ya?" 

you lift a brow, letting your lips brush just over his cupid's bow, imbued with the thick hairs of his mustache. you shake your head gently; he thinks everything's fine after a measly sorry? 

"really?" you whisper against his lips, "you expect me to come play nurse and give myself to you just like that?" you tut. a swirl of desire in your gut when his good hand slides up the back of your thigh, squeezing the round of your ass. 

you hope he cannot see the goosebumps up your thighs at his touch. 

"y'didn't even play nurse." he argues, tilting his head up at you. you cross your arms, unimpressed; he sighs sharply. "sweetheart, 'm sorry." he offers again. you roll your eyes, "whatever, Joel." you whisper, leaning close to him; the way he looks up at you is saccharine; revenge must be the only thing sweeter. an idea creeps into your mind; a taste of his own medicine.

you let your lips brush his, but then pull back slightly. "if I can wait for you, you can wait for me." you say, pressing a chaste kiss to Joel's lips. his eyes are no longer clouded in that warm brightness; no, he is cloudy with irritation. you bite back a grin as you pull away from him, eyeing the chair next to the bed. "the fuck's that mean?" he grunts, eyes hawkish as they travel with you, lowering until you're comfortable in the chair. you let his gaze travel the expanse of your legs; the dress you chose to wear to your date is soaked - it sticks to your thighs and reveals more than you'd expect - you don't shy away, though. when it's Joel, you can never shy away.

"what are you doin'?" he questions again, voice deep with growing interest. 

you smirk sultrily, tilting your head as you hum, propping your foot just next to his leg, on display for his gaze. 

you spread your legs gently, letting your hands explore the planes of the body you know so well; over your chest, you flick wet strands of hair away from your slick skin before skimming over your curves. a flicker of lightning in the window and Joel's eyes are darker than before; you hum, "I'm keeping you company, Joel." you simper, letting the strap of the dress slip slowly off your shoulder on one side, your hand traveling down your chest and imagining his own rough, calloused ones. "unless you'd prefer I leave?" you ask with a small pout. 

"I'd prefer if you stop bein' a brat and get the fuck over here." he snaps; patience worn thin, you just smirk, knowing he's enjoying the display of your body for him in the dark room. 

you slowly lift the hem of your skirt up, over your hips; his eyes hungrily devour the lace you wore - a treat for him at the end of your date, you'd thought - now teasing.

you make a show of slipping a hand into your underwear, gasping gently as your fingers slide through your folds. you flush at the arousal that has gathered there - there might be something to say about how turned on you get when you're pissed at Joel - yet you let yourself relax, gently moaning as you rub your sensitive clit with one finger. 

Joel sits up, his eyes dark and lip caught between his teeth as he watches you; he winces slightly, but ignores the pain, “let me.” he says, trying to sound authoritative. you just smirk, shaking your head. “no.”

Joel ought to learn to be patient.

so you resume, your finger gently sliding inside you;  it’s nowhere near how it feels when Joel touches you, but you'd never dare admit such secrets out loud. instead, you add another finger; curling them, you let out a moan, biting your lip only when you remember there is another person in the house. thankfully, the rain slams on the windows hard enough to mask what noise you've let escape your lips. 

Joel stares at you as if it's torture; you can see his own arousal growing in his pants; even as he adjusts, his brows drawn and breathing sharp. sliding the other strap off your shoulder, you let the top of your dress fall; your breasts on full display, nipples perking at the cold nip of the air. 

"god damn it," he hisses, "quit your fuckin' teasing." 

you don't, though: and he cannot conceal the groan he lets out as you push your chest out, arching your back as you start to thumb your clit. pleasure courses through you, soaking your panties as you watch Joel watch you. 

his hand barely twitches before you shake your head, "don't touch yourself." you snap, eyes sharp as you watch his palm press over his obvious hard-on. 

he glares at you. 

"y'think you can tell me what to do?" he snaps, eyes sharp though you can see the flush on his cheeks at your words. this makes you stop; instantly you're pulling your fingers out of yourself, sitting forward - his eyes widen only slightly when you stand, suddenly standing over him again. 

he is a dream - laid back, cheeks red and eyes sharp from the tease, straining nearly out of his pants in his desire. he pants, swallowing as you trail your fingernails over his chest slowly; up, higher... 

your hand wraps around his throat - it looks small, next to his tanned skin, but the way he swallows, the way his cock twitches - he loves it. you do, too. you lift a brow. "don't think I won't fucking leave you here like you left me alone at the Bison." tilting your head, you smirk. "someone has to put you in your place, right?" 

his jaw is taut as he blinks at you, not daring to argue. you tilt your head, staring at him until he rolls his eyes, shaking his head. "fine, darlin'." he grunts, "have it your way." 

his hand slides away from his crotch and with a satisfied smirk, you let go of his throat. "don't move your hand from the mattress unless you want me to leave." you snap, sending him a look, "okay?" 

his jaw ticks, as if deciding how much power to give up. he sighs sharply, "fine."

satisfied at his answer, you slide your underwear off your legs, leaving the dress on your torso.

Joel swallows hard, cheeks pink with desire as you climb up onto his lap; his eyes watch you warily, knowing you well enough to know you wouldn't give in this easily. 

and you haven't. 

instead you slide back slightly onto his thighs, relieving the brief pressure of your heat over his clothed cock; you snake your hand down, returning your fingers to your heat to find the velvety arousal waiting for you. he watches with lidded eyes and a slacked jaw. sighing, you wiggle your hips, gasping as the tips of your fingers brush your sensitive clit. your other hand rises to pinch a nipple gently, eyes locked on Joel's. he's halfway delirious - exasperated, irritated, melting with desire. 

"is this better, Joel?" your voice drips with antagonism as you slowly slip two fingers into your dripping cunt, "you wanted me close, didn't you?" 

he says nothing; watching you, his hips move with yours, providing you with friction as you touch yourself on his lap. a muttered curse under his breath until you whine gently, fingers stretching yourself as you wish it was him. 

"god damn it." he mutters, head falling against the pillow, staring up at the ceiling as if in silent prayer. you can see him searching for some god, high up there, who will take him out of this torturous pleasure. there is a burning desire, a sweet pride, knowing that you are the only one who can. "-gonna be the death of me, darlin'." 

it is not the first time he's said this. in fact, the night you first fucked around with Joel he said something very similar as you walked the patrol logs to Maria and Tommy's; the memory makes you flush, the anticipation, the butterflies, the shock. 

the first time Joel put his hands on your skin, caressed you, fucked you. 

"y'gonna let me fuck you, sweetheart?" his voice always slips into that Texan accent more when he is aroused; the heat spreads over your body and goosebumps crawl over your legs as you let your head fall back - moaning his name, you thumb your clit gently. it never feels good enough when you do it yourself; hiding this truth, you hum, sending Joel a salacious smirk. "if you want me, you're going to have to beg for it." 

this seems to have brought him back to Earth, back to this bed, to remember who it is that straddles him, who it is he desires most in this town. he bristles at your play for dominance. "-oughta fuck you 'til you remember who you're talkin' to. remember your manners." he snaps - his desperation is leaking through; you can only smile knowingly as you buck your hips on his thick thighs. pleasure starts to pool in your stomach as you tilt your head back, your thumb flicking over your sensitive nipples. he watches the movement like a hawk; angry, straining with pleasure but unable to do anything against your ministrations.

you lean yourself, not daring to stop your movements - instead, your hand slips from your breast to return itself to Joel's throat; squeezing as you feel yourself tremor with ecstasy. the want in his eyes drives you forward. 

"where are your manners, old man?" you whisper, breath hot as it fans across his lips. "standing up a pretty girl like me?" you tut, shaking your head. "such a mean man. you know, I could have my pick here in Jackson-" you sigh, feeling yourself pulse with your imminent high, your fingers pumping into yourself and pleasure coursing through you. 

he lets out a sigh, a whisper upon your own lips, "-I know, baby." he grunts, hips bucking against yours, seeking any kind of friction for himself. something about his desire, how you've rendered Joel Miller completely desperate and breathless for you, nearly pushes you to the edge. 

"-fuck, 'm sorry, darlin'," he grunts; his hand grips the sheet below him, his voice quieted with the knowledge that Ellie remains somewhere in the house. You swirl your hips, nearing your high as your head tilts back; you move, your tits bouncing as you do, gasping gently. a part of you wishes to see how far you could push it - could he cum in his pants like this, barely touched? 

but a yearning desire to be filled by him overtakes that thought. 

"see-" you cut yourself off with a quiet, sweet moan, pulsing around yourself, "see how wet I am?" you spread your thighs open further, leaning back; his eyes, hungry and unrelenting, stare down at the apex of your thighs, where you've made a wet patch upon his pants, where you fuck yourself on your fingers. "yeah, baby. let me feel that pretty pussy, then." he grunts.

you lift a brow. Joel lets out a desperate moan, eyes rolling gently as you pitch your hips forward, grazing his straining cock. You eye him coyly. "where's that please you love to hear so much, Joel?" you hum, your thighs trembling as you stave off your orgasm. "or have you already forgotten how to speak?" 

his eyes strain as he resists the urge to put his palm over you - your tits, your face, your cunt - you grin in satisfaction. good. "jesus," he grunts, "lord- just-" he clenches his jaw, hips bucking up against you; you gasp at the friction it causes, pushing your palm into your clit hard. "-let me fuck you." he tries to order.

you shake your head, "beg for it." you says, breathless as you scrunch your eyes shut, nearing your orgasm. "beg for me, Joel." you say again, clenching- so close- 

his grip finds your hand, tugging you away from your seeping cunt so quick you barely know what's happening. you gasp, eyes flying open; his eyes are not nearly as sharp as they were- no, they're begging, pleading: wide, staring up at you like you floated down from Heaven above. 

"-don't cum yet, please." he says, voice breathless, "wanna feel you 'round me. promise, I'll do anything you want, anything - please." 

you could cum untouched at just the words, the arousal dripping from his lips, the way his eyes drink you in like he never wants to see anything else. 

the breath tumbles out of your lips, staring at him with satisfaction, your own cheeks flushed. "was that so hard?" you pull him in for a kiss that has him keening, tongue struggling to fight for the dominance you refuse to give up. even if it took Joel dislocating his shoulder, you will not let him take away your first real breath of control over him. you lean in to his ear, biting his lobe softly as his breath hitches, "now let go of my fucking hand." you whisper coldly. 

he drops it like dead weight. 

smirking, you lean back, lifting your fingers between you and him; your slick coats them, shining with your evident arousal and desire. you don't have to ask; he's taking your wrist gently and pushing your fingers to his lips in a second. 

you watch in awe, desire simmering deep within you as his tongue laps every drop of your arousal from your fingers, his eyes rolling back in his head, groaning gently at the taste of you. "fuck, sweetheart-" he moans and you're unsure if you've ever heard something so delicious. "please, let me feel you." 

you hum, roving your hips over his, sliding until you straddle him properly; his fist, squeezed and wanting, clenches against the sheets below him. a part of you flourishes within your chest as you watch him - so clearly aroused, yet letting you take the reins for once and doing what you say. 

experimentally, you drag a hand down his chest. careful to avoid his left shoulder, which is propped up and slung with a makeshift sling from an old t-shirt, you explore him. 

Joel has never really let you look at him very much before; you smile, eyes trailing over his puffing chest, his stomach, down to where you roll your wet cunt over the fabric of his jeans. the texture is rough - you nearly yelp as your clit catches on the cold metal button; Joel's lips quirk up in a small smirk at the noise you let out. 

you ignore his stare, not letting yourself think about how full of admiration it is at the moment; no, you let yourself bathe in the arousal, in the waiting that Joel has patiently gone through for you. your eyes find his face - that rugged, guarded expression: you see the flicker of vulnerability within them that you're slowly getting used to, that warmth that always catches on your heartbeats and makes them skip or pound just that much quicker. 

so patient now, but where was he hours ago, when he could have come told you in person he couldn't make your date, or hell even just sent Ellie? 

"somethin' wrong, baby?" he asks, voice low - his brow is similarly so, drawn over his eyes and you nearly lean to kiss the concern away; you remember the stares you'd gotten at the Tipsy Bison just an hour ago, sitting alone - another bout of irritation washes over you. "y'tired of tryin' to tell me what to do?" 

you let out a small huff, "thinkin' about what I was gonna let you do to me in the bathroom at the Bison tonight." 

it's barely a hint at anything, but his eyes shut at the image. "I'm s-" 

you really don't want to hear it - he's already apologized several times, and you forgive him. now, you're much more focused on giving what you get. "-shut up, Joel." you snap - and he does. 

jaw snapping shut, he watches you as you move on him, eyes desperate, hungry. 

you let your hand slide over the wet patch you've made to palm him, squeezing his cock experimentally. it throbs, twitches; the breath catches in his throat at your palm and you hum. he lets out a low moan when you unclasp his jeans, tugging then down enough to let his cock spring free. 

he's impossibly hard; leaking precum and throbbing, Joel stares up at you as you dance your fingertips around the course hair at the base, watching him move under you. his lips are parted, but nothing more than grunts and breaths leave them; you grin. "what's wrong, Mr. Miller?" you tilt your head, "scared you'll cum too quick?" 

his eyes roll at your sass, but whatever lip he was about to deliver is cut off when you move your hips upward; grazing over his aching cock is your wet arousal, your cunt enveloping him in your heat. it's as much a tease to him as it is to you - you're aching with need, cunt swallowing around nothing each time you slide your hips against his cock and feel it slide through your slick.

"please." it is like a breath in the wind, but it makes you smirk. your hand slides to hold his jaw, tilting his head until he looks at you straight-on - his eyes are wide and pleading, begging. it coils something very deep within you. 

"you're real handsome like this, Joel." you say, just to watch the blush over his cheeks. his brows furrow, nostrils flaring; irritated, bashful, embarrassed. "I love it when you're so desperate you can't think straight." 

he lifts a brow, not daring to say anything - you see the knowing look in his eyes, though; he loves it just as much as you do. you wonder, briefly, if he's ever really let go like this before, let someone else take control. it makes you throb to think you might be the first one. your clit brushes to head of his dick and you both gasp; your hand slides until your thumb pulls on his bottom lip. parting his mouth, he watches you expectantly - a tingle within you as you realize what he expects without having to tell you, and so you do it. spitting, you watch as your saliva mixes with his on his tongue and he groans, swallowing it quickly. 

fuck, it feels good; your slick has ruined his jeans and you've run out of patience. 

slowly, you rise to your knees and grasp his cock, giving two pumps that have his eyes shutting and swears tumbling from his bitten lips. but then, you notch him at your entrance, swallowing thickly at his size - no matter how many times you take Joel, it's always a stretch.

he feels it too, his eyes widening in bliss. "c'mon, now-" he becomes impatient; you serve him a warning look, lifting a brow. his expression is one of pure resentment and arousal - you're relieved for a moment that he truly is injured, otherwise you know your ass would be spanked completely raw and you'd probably be fucked out on the floor having alerted the whole neighborhood. 

"quit actin' like you've never done this before," he snaps, clearly fed up with playing around, "like you weren't made to slut yourself out on my cock. let me feel you." but his eyes meet yours, and he tilts his head, adding a small, sarcastic, "please."  

a shiver of desire cascades over you; irritation at him standing you up, at getting injured and not telling you, at the storm for ruining your crops - all the frustration dissipates when you sink yourself slowly onto Joel, feeling him split you open. 

you moan in tandem with him, taking him as low as you can go until you let out a short whine, feeling his cock punch your cervix. deep- he always gets so fucking deep. 

you remain slow because you know he wants it fast. a rise and fall of your hips, teasing, as he drags alongside your channels, your cunt squeezing him deliciously. you're already nearing bliss once again, eyes fluttering at the feeling; using him, taking what you need. 

his own eyes are screwed shut, jaw more tense than you've seen before; breathing heavily, it's as if he's trying to fight an orgasm already. you smirk, shaking your head, "already so close, old man?" you tut, leaning back to balance one hand on his lower thigh, the other hiking up your dress so that he can see your slick, where his cock is swallowed by your greedy pussy. 

you sigh, the feeling euphoric as his hips slowly buck to meet yours, fucking into you as you bounce on him. you try not to let your eyes roll back, taking in the slow sweetness of him filling you to the brim. "you're so fucking lucky, you know that?" you hiss, eyes knitting together. "such a fuckin' asshole, yet here I am letting you fuck me." 

he groans, head falling backwards and his free fist not wrapped in the sling fisting the sheets with a death grip. you slow your hips slightly when he doesn't respond, watching him with arousal swirling across your vision. a low fire burns bright within your core, your orgasm building up again. 

“fuck," he nearly moans it, "I know. I know. just- don’t fuckin' stop, baby.”

you've never heard him this desperate; it shoots ecstasy through your very veins, curling your toes and making you clench around him, throbbing in pleasure. "pussy's fuckin' heaven." he mutters to himself. you flutter, shivering down your spine.

"dirty man," you whimper, starting to fuck yourself onto him harder; you bite back a moan as you hear your wet cunt against him, legs beginning to shake. "how long did you know me before you decided you wanted me, hm?"

he lets out a low groan, hand flying to rake through his curls as he bucks his hips with yours. your hand flies to his cheek, landing a smack upon the apple of it. a light slap, one to make sure he's paying attention; the doe-look in his eyes makes your arousal coil, that spring getting tighter and tighter.

is this how he feels when you're underneath him, looking up at him like that? "I asked you a question." you whisper.

"m-moment I saw you," he says, "y'know that, baby." he affirms, barely able to string his words together. warmth courses through you at the admission, so free, so honest. 

"fantasized about me for months, didn't you? and now you have me, and you're leaving me all alone on our first date?" you shake your head, pushing your hair away from your face before toying with your tits once again, sighing as you shiver. you're chasing your high already, spurred on by his flustered state, by the power you've found within it. 

the rain slams on the windows outside, but you couldn't care less. 

you know he's injured; you know Joel, he wouldn't intentionally hurt you - but standing you up on your first date still stings, and you're not afraid to let him know. 

you're close to your orgasm, and Joel can tell - his thighs are thick cords of muscle beneath you as he begins to fuck up into you, tip of his cock pushing against your cervix and making you bite back a scream of pleasure. 

you cast yourself forward, avoiding his injured shoulder as you nip along his neck, tongue sliding against the damp, hot skin. "we can play games all we want, Mr. Miller," you whisper against his ear, relishing in the deep spot he hits within you, "but we both know. I own you." 

he lets out a groan at this, his hips bucking up into you; you gasp as his cock punches your cunt, hitting so deep you keen upwards, toes curling. fuck. "yeah baby, I'm yours-" his voice nearly breaks as he says it, looking as if fighting an internal war over risking further injury to his shoulder if it means pulling you down harder against him. "fuck, so fuckin' pretty like this, all mine." 

his chattermouth seems to have returned; in great time, too, as you grip the hand he's cemented to the sheets and shove it between you two, gasping as you near your high. 

"make me cum," you instruct, "make me cum, then maybe I'll let you cum. can you do that?" 

it is an echo of what he'd asked you just days ago in your own bed; with the rain pouring down, flickering in candlelight. 

"fuck," he mutters, "yes." he affirms; you nod, too blissed out to respond more. his fingers spring to life desperately, his own thrusts sloppy as he seemingly tries to stave off his own orgasm. your body is on an electric wire; every muscle clenches when his rough fingers find your clit, toying and rubbing furiously to bring you to that brink. "g-good, that's so good-" you moan, trying desperately to control the volume of your voice as you shake with pleasure. "don't fucking cum, Miller." you order, hand falling to his throat. he moans, nodding. 

"please," he says it quietly; you see the hunger, that darkness in his eyes as he strains. you gasp, a wave hitting you as he begs, "please, cum for me, pretty girl." he groans, "wanna feel it. c'mon-" 

you hit your orgasm with a gasp and a low, drawn out moan. it rolls over you in waves, pulsing, dragging you into the current and spitting you, heaving, back into the universe. he's pressed his hand over your mouth; a desperate plea to remain undiscovered, as your hand falls similarly to his mouth from his throat.

you feel his lips form your name under your fingers; it feels like home. 

his eyes fall shut in pleasure and his head tilts back, exposing the entire expanse of his throat for you to claim; he looks like fucking heaven.

you kiss Joel's neck lightly as you pick up the pace, bouncing on him steadily as his fingers fly up; too weak of desire, you let him grip the side of your thigh. "shit," he mutters, "darlin', I'm close-" 

shaking your head, you stare at him, "didn't tell you you could cum yet, did I?" 

the taste of his own medicine looks divine upon his face; the graying facial hair glinting in the rainy light outside, his thick neck on display again. he growls and it stirs something delicious within you. 

you feel your grip on reality - on your control, on him - start to loosen as your thrusts become sloppy. "Joel," you whine looking into his eyes. it's as if he snaps. 

he’s surging up, kissing you deeply as groans fall from his lips, his arm rising to your waist to hold you as you move. this position hits the perfect spot inside you that you have to bite hard on his good shoulder to avoid screaming in ecstasy. 

the rain washes away the sound of skin against skin but you feel it, you feel him everywhere. 

"I'm close," he mutters. your eyes are screwed shut; you jolt when you feel the pad of his thumb rubbing figure-eights on your clit and you nearly writhe in his hold, whispering, "don't- you'll hurt yourself."

"don't fuckin' care." he almost growls, beginning to drive up into you, tilting until your toes curl and your whole body shakes. "jus' wanna cum with you. can I cum with you, baby?" 

his voice is so desperate your eyes nearly roll back. you move your hips, chasing the high that you can feel coming. you clench, feeling the familiar feeling creeping on you, your cunt puffy and spent; hungry. his hand grips tight on the junction of your leg and hip, fingers squeezing the sides of your ass as he pulls you down onto him, grunting with his eyes closed. 

he looks angelic like this, flushed and wide-eyes as he bites his lip. your eyes meet his and you nod, "cum with me, Joel, yes-" 

you shake as you hit your high, legs giving out a bit as you pulse and clench around his cock. it immediately makes him cum, thrusting into you and shooting hot spurts deep inside you, his moan desperate and full of pleasure. "could stay with you forever," he says, voice hollow and spent, warm and tired as he pushes his length impossibly deeper into you, sending you keening. your thighs quiver, feeling the cum that leaks from you drip onto his jeans; your heart stops, a wash of flattery over you suddenly as you register his words. "keep you with me forever." 

your heart is suddenly pounding, chest heaving, eyes blissful. you stay, arms on him as his good arm stays around you, pulling your weight on top of him. his cock still throbs gently inside you as you press your cheek against his chest. 

keep you with me forever. you sigh at the thought, blinking syrupy, pressing a kiss over his chest.  

you open your mouth; in fact, the sentiment is there, unspoken and unadmitted but still lingering like clouds and sunsets and uncertainty and fear in your mind. something like love. 

but he cuts you off before you can even speak, "I'm sorry," he mumbles, lips brushing against your hairline, "I wanted tonight to be perfect. I'm sorry I got hurt, 'n I'm sorry I didn't tell ya." 

you swallow back your words, nodding, "Joel, I understand. tell me next time." 

he nods, "jus' gotta stop fucking this up." he says, voice slightly anxious. furrowing your brows, you sit up slightly; you both wince at your sore bodies, but you don't mind. frowning, you take in the melancholy that's settled now that the haze of lust as subsided. this isn't normal; trying to navigate any kind of relationship itself is difficult, let alone your rocky start with each other - god forbid you have rough patches, misunderstandings.

Joel has shown his capacity to mature, to work on himself, and you wouldn't dare write that off as nothing. you know it isn't - you know just a few of the many things Joel has seen in his time. you will learn when he is ready, but for now you wait, patient. 

"hey," you say softly, guiding his cheek in your palm. he looks at you with large eyes as you shake your head, "you care about me" you affirm. 

he nods with no hesitation, "yes, I do. I-" he cuts himself off, looking away before taking a breath, "jus' don't deserve you, s'all." 

you shrug, "well, I care about you too. that's what matters. everything else, we're just..." you purse your lips with a small smile, giddy at the thought of his words earlier; in this life, finding any kind of happiness is wholly unrealistic and more than a privilege. and yet, you have this man in front of you; a protector, a friend, a lover - things are fucked up, yes, but there isn't anything in this world that isn't. 

perhaps it's time to start maturing; perhaps it's time to start seeing things for what they are. 

"figuring it out?" he offers, looking almost hopeful. you nod; he kisses you fully, lips tasting a faint hint of your arousal from earlier. 

he hums as his hand trails over your back, up your neck. "your hair's still wet." he observes against your lips, hand carding through the strands. you nod bashfully, "was pouring out earlier." you remind him. 

he hums, "still is." he observes, chin jutting to the window. you look on, taking in the tears that slide down the panes violently; a cry from the world, though your heart is filled with something much more joyous. "s'ppose it's too late to take you to get drinks, then?" he suggests, giving you a look. you look at him wildly, "you're injured, Joel." 

he sighs, "don't matter, like I said." he argues. you huff, shaking your head, "I heard you were being babied all day, and now you want to walk down into town in the torrential downpour?" 

he stiffens, lifting a brow; you flush when you feel his semi-hard cock warm inside you. "who the hell said I was bein' a baby?" he says; you laugh. he laughs, too. it's nice. 

shaking your head, you sigh. "we'll wait until you feel better, Joel. then you can take me for as many drinks as you'd like." 

he sighs, "get'ya all the liquor left in this place if I can help it." he mutters, kissing your hairline again, "I'm sorry, again." 

you kiss his lips, knowing he means it. "I know you are." you whisper back, a hand soothing over him. his eyes are a deep honey, searching yours with vulnerability; you're reminded of his words from just moments ago and flush. 

Joel speaks up again first. "would you-" he swallows thickly, and you turn to watch him, still bathing in the afterglow of two orgasms, his cock still snug within you. his good hand slides over your spine, "would you stay the night?" he asks, eyes vulnerable, "y'can borrow some clothes." he offers, looking over your soaked dress hopefully. 

something flutters in your stomach and you nod, "sure, I'd like that." 

he's never invited you explicitly like this; you smile gently, deciding not to tease him for the blush upon your cheeks. you watch the curve of his nose, the curve of his jawline as he suppresses a bashful grin - you flicker with a stir of arousal. "can I use your shower?" you ask, eyes flickering to the bathroom that connects to his room. clearing his throat, he nods. "'course." 

you purse your lips, "can you get in the shower with your shoulder like that?" you ask; his brow lifts in interest, some kind of arousal swirling in the depths of his eyes. "for a piece of this ass?" he mutters, hand groping your left cheek hungrily, "I can at least try." 

you roll your eyes, ignoring the newly restored desire that grows between your thighs, smirking. "I should say you should take me to dinner first." 

he chuckles, "ship's sailed on that, I think." he slaps your ass, watching with sharp eyes as the flesh bounces with the impact. "I'll make y'dinner when I'm healed, though." 

you hum against his lips, sliding off of him and gasping at the feeling of his cum slipping between your thighs. you yelp lightly, grinning as you rise up and he slaps your ass again. "help clean me up first," you whisper, pressing a kiss to his nose, "then I'll consider it." 

.

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#joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #the last of us (tv) #let’s chat abt mr miller #the last of us x reader #the last of us smut #joel x reader #joel the last of us

[muwapsturniolo]

✯𝐁𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐢✯

Matt x earthyboho! Reader (platonic only!!)

IN WHICH…after flaking on his friends 1 million party, Matt spends time with Chris’s girlfriend, Y/n.

WARNINGS: mentions of anxiety, self-deprecation, smoking, drinking, I think that’s it.

yall can thank @mattslolita & @thenickgirl because i didn't want this fic to see the light of day but they wanted it.

It was a late Saturday night and Y/n was currently in her living room having her annual wine night.

The sound of Pink Floyd’s money was flowing through the speakers as she danced around the living room, blunt in her mouth and wine glass in the other.

“I’m alright jack keep your hands off my st-'' She stops her singing when her phone rings. She smiles seeing her boyfriend’s name flash across the screen.

“Hi baby, everything ok?” She flops down on to her couch, wine glass still in her hand. Chris smiles seeing her in her eccentric state.

“Yeah everything’s fine I just have a favor to ask. You can definitely say no, but I thought I’d ask anyway.” She hums and takes a sip of her wine.

“So like, we have Tara’s party to go to tonight and Matt is supposed to come but he’s in a funk. He’s been like this all week and I’m positive it’s his anxiety. Do you think he could go to your tonight? I know it’s a big favor to ask because you two have never been alone, but I know you deal with anxiety and I just don’t want Matt to be alone tonight.”

The question throws her off.

She has never hung out with Chris’s brothers without Chris present. It wasn’t because she didn’t want to, she just didn’t see the need for it if Chris wasn’t there. However, Chris was asking her to do so out of love and she can’t deny him that.

“Sure, yeah that’s fine.”

The call ends after the two exchange plans and 'I love yous'. About an hour and a half later, her doorbell rings. She walks through the foyer, humming along to the fading music, and opens the door.

“Hey…” Matt trails off awkwardly. He feels bad having to show up at his brother's girlfriend's house like a child needing to be watched. He planned on staying home after dropping his brothers off, but Chris demanded that he go to Y/n's

So here he is.

“Hey, come in.”

She steps to the side and allows him inside. Usually, she would grab her stick of palo santo and cleanse him down, but she could tell that he doesn’t have a bad bone in his body and needs comfort, not an energy cleansing.

Matt kicks off his shoes and follows her through the big home. Matt looks around in amazement, he knew Y/n was a bit of a hippie, but not to this extent.

He feels safe in her home, surrounded by multiple shades of browns, greens, and oranges. The multiple paintings and posters on the walls, the vases of many shapes and sizes.

It was something out of a movie, but he loved it.

As they walk further into the house, he hears the tune of a familiar song he can’t place his finger on.

“Sorry for the mess, it’s my wine night. Did you want a glass? It’s blueberry!” Matt looks to the wine bottle on the table, accompanied by a bong, and a few other knickknacks.

“Don’t apologize, I intruded on your night. Not like you were expecting to babysit a grown man.” He mumbles.

Y/n frowns at his words, “I don’t see it as babysitting. I see it as you needing a friend. We may not actually be friends, but this is a chance to start.” He smiles softly at her comforting words. He eyes the orange beanbag in the corner and immediately wants to sit on it. It was huge and looked more comforting than his own bed ever had. Y/n sees him eyeing the bean bag and motions to it, “You can sit on it. Make yourself at home.”

Matt doesn’t have to be told twice, immediately sitting down on the bean bag. Oddly, it seems like most of the pressure on his shoulders has been released, the softness of the on-ground chair aiding in that.

Y/n watches silently as Matt closes his eyes and fades into the beanbag. She could tell he had a lot going on in his head, and she hated it for him. She knew all too well what it was like to be fighting your own thoughts, and she felt like she owed it to Chris to help his brother.

She stands up from the couch and walks over to her vinyl's, getting ready to switch them out. “You have a lot of vinyl's.” Matt’s voice rings out.

“I’ve collected a bunch over the years, I blame my mom and dad for the obsession...Chris got me a few of these as well.” A smile graces her face as she thinks about her parents, she decides to call them soon.

“Did you want to pick one?” She offers. Matt stands up from the bean and walks over to the collection of crates.

He sees a few familiar artists, never listening to their music but recognizing their faces. “I’ll be honest, I don’t really know any of these people.” She hums and looks at the crates before looking back to Matt, “Did you want to hook your phone up and play music? I won’t mind but, I will request something soft. I’m not a fan of loud music when it’s late.” Matt nods and the two immediately hook his phone up.

He clicks on a playlist and the soft sound of Fleetwood Mac fills the room. “Oo good choice. I love Stevie Nicks.”

Matt lets out a sigh of relief hearing her words. He was a bit self-conscious when playing music for other people, scared they would judge him. It wasn't like he listened to rap every day, he tended to branch out at times, finding solace in the slower songs.

“Did you want a glass of wine?” She offers once again, already pouring herself another glass. “Sure, I don’t think I’ve ever had wine before.” He says sitting up.

Y/n pours him a glass before handing it to him, “This is my favorite. It’s cheap but it tastes like juice.” He smells it before taking a sip, humming at the sweet taste.

A few glasses later the two are laughing and talking, the conversation flowing easier now that their heads are heavy and their bodies are light.

“How come you didn’t want to go to Tara’s party?” It’s as if her words flip a switch in Matt’s brain, his body tensing as he falls silent.

“Why are you asking? I know Chris told you why.” His words come out a bit snappy making Y/n tap her leg anxiously. “Well, he did... But I want to hear it from you…I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable or like I was all in your business.”

The two sit in a pregnant silence before Y/n speaks up once again. “Do you want to talk about it?”

It takes a moment for Matt to speak,

“I'm sick and tired of fighting. I wasn’t born to fight, maybe a small part of me is but I can’t do it anymore….I want to run away from the thoughts in my head and the problems in life but it's like I'm stuck, my legs no longer working, leaving me to be crushed.”

Y/n listens closely to his words, not wanting to interrupt him. She figures it’s best for him to speak his mind since it seems like he’s never able to.

“I wanted to go to Tara’s party tonight, but I just freaked out. The idea of being around so many people who are screaming, drinking, and smoking just made me want to vomit. I haven't always been like this but at the same time, I have. I used to be able to go out with Chris and Nick when we were in Boston, sometimes getting anxious...But it seemed like when we moved to LA, it just got worse. I feel like I’m putting my friends and family through hell by not wanting to do certain things or go anywhere all because of this fucking anxiety.” He rubs over his face in exhaustion, just the thought of being in a crowded room with drunks taking a toll on his body.

“I understand completely. I’m not much of a party person either so I usually stay in the solitude of my own home. Although I’m not living it up like every person in LA, I think what I’m doing is considered living. You’re only ruled by the vibe you’re serving yourself. Don’t feel bad about it.”

He listens to her words closely, finding them to be comforting but also confusing. “But is it considered living? When you hear people say they are living life, you don’t picture someone in their home, you picture parties and trips.”

Y/n takes another sip of wine, “that’s true, but everyone has their own perceptions of things. What I may consider living, others might not. But like I said, you’re only ruled by the vibe you’re serving yourself.”

“But what does that mean? Ruled by the vibe of serving yourself?” He sits up on the bean bag, crossing his legs and arms as he only becomes more confused.

“It means that if you are content and happy by being alone and doing what you want to do, aka serving yourself, then that’s all that matters." Matt furrows his brows.

He doesn’t know if it’s the wine making her not make sense or if her words truly aren’t adding up.

“That doesn’t make sense though. I’m not happy staying inside because anxiety is what’s making me do it. It’s not like I’m choosing to be alone, I want to go out like everyone else and have a good time.”

“And that’s the issue-" she pointed at him.

“You’re not living by your own means, and let’s face it, that’s normal considering you’re a 20-year-old influencer in LA. You feel like you need to go out like everyone else, or else they are going to think you’re weird, or boring. You have this urge to fit in and that isn’t serving you by any means because that’s when the anxiety shows its face.”

It all starts to slowly make sense to him.

“So you’re saying by me trying to force myself to fit in and go to parties and go out, I’m making my anxiety worse?” He tries to clarify.

“Not worse per se, that sounds bad. Anxiety doesn’t have to be a bad thing, but it’s not a good thing either. Some people are just natural introverts, but when they force themselves to do things they won’t enjoy, they get anxious and freak out. That’s when I think anxiety is good because it’s telling you to stop forcing yourself through something that’s just going to drain you.”

Y/n lets her words sink into Matt, watching as his face goes through different emotions as he deciphers her thoughts.

“I think I understand? So what you’re trying to say is that I’m most likely an introvert, and by forcing myself into situations that don’t benefit me, I’m making my anxiety flare up. And that my anxiety is trying to warn me to take it easy?”

A small smile forms on Y/n’s face, “and?”

“And that I need to start living life by my means and what makes me happy, because living life by society's means doesn’t benefit me?”

Y/n claps excitedly, “yes! Exactly! You got it! Live your own life and you will be happy!” Matt lets out a breath of air now that he understands her words.

The conversation helped him understand himself a bit more and his thoughts, no longer feeling bad about ditching Tara’s party. And now that he no longer feels bad, all that internal pressure that was ready to burst out of his body is gone.

“I feel so much better now, Christ you have a way with words…I’m sorry for getting snappy earlier.” Y/n waves him off and giggles.

“It’s fine, I tend to do the same at times, but you just need to work through your thoughts and feelings.” She stands up from the couch and claps her hands.

“Now, after that long conversation, I think we deserve a dance break!” Y/n holds her hand out waiting for Matt’s phone. He unlocks it and hands it to her, the girl immediately going to Spotify and loading up a queue of songs.

Y/n immediately bobs her head to the song, twirling around the living room.

“You’ve got to press it on you- Come on Matt everyone knows Gorillaz!” She dances over to him and pulls him off the bean bag.

Matt laughs out as he begins to dance and sing along to the infamous song with the girl.

“It’s coming up it’s coming up, it’s dare!” They shout the lyrics at the top of their lungs, not having a care in the world about how crazy they look.

they were having fun and that's all that matters.

This goes on for about an hour, the two dancing and singing their hearts away. They even recorded a few snaps that were posted of them dancing and singing.

The two collapse onto the couch, out of breath and tired from the workout. “That was tiring. I don’t know if I want to eat or sleep.” Y/n giggles and points to her kitchen, “Well luckily for you, food is next. You good with pasta? I made ravioli from scratch."

“That sounds amazing.” Y/n bounces into the kitchen leaving Matt alone in the living room. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a brown ball trotting into the living room. He gasps seeing the small ball of fur, and immediately picks her up. “You are so cute, what is your name?”

He looks at the collar and chuckles seeing the name

“Janelle meownet”.

He’s heard of the singer and with Y/n’s vibes, it made sense for her to like her.

He sets the kitten on the couch and begins to play with her, his phone soon interrupting them. He answers seeing it’s Chris and smiles at the camera.

The loud sound of the party fills his ears before Chris speaks, “Hey you good?”

Matt nods, “I’m good, I’m having a good time with Y/n.” He answers. Chris smiles, happy that his brother and girlfriend are getting along.

“That’s great! You feeling ok?” Matt nods once again.

“Yeah, Y/n and I had a talk and she really helped me see things differently it was nice….I really like her for you Chris.”

Chris smiles brightly, finding solace in Matt’s words. He knew his brothers liked Y/n, but hearing that at least one of them thought she was perfect filled Chris's heart with joy.

The phone is taken by Tara, " Matt I wish you were here!" He smiles softly and talks to Tara for a minute.

Chris takes the phone back and demands to speak with Y/n. Matt rolls his eyes and hands the phone to the girl who just walked back in the livingroom.

"Hi, are you enjoying the party?" She asks Chris.

The two talk for a few minutes before Chris lets her know that him and Nick are going to come over after. They get off the phone and Y/n hands the device back to Matt.

"The food should be done, ready to eat?"

They walk into the kitchen and Matt's mouth waters at the site of the ravioli in alfredo sauce.

They sit down and dive into the food, Matt scarfing his down. It wasn't every day he had a homecooked meal, especially ravioli from scratch.

The night ensues with more wine, painting, doing puzzles, and talking.

Matt felt himself genuinely forgetting about all his worries and problems that once held all the weight of the world on his shoulders. He enjoyed his night with Y/n, she was truly a breath of fresh air.

"This might come out weird, but I can see why Chris likes you."

Y/n looks up from her diamond painting, a curious look on her face.

"What do you mean?''

"It's no secret that most people in LA aren't...normal? Everyone is either trying to be famous, or they are famous and want to use people to climb to the top. Their personalities are fake, and they don't care about other people....You're different. You actually care about people, you're actually nice, you don't care about fame or money... you're a breath of fresh air..... Chris deserves that."

Y/n finds comfort in Matt's words, enjoying the friendly praises. "At first Nick and I were worried about you, scared that you were only going to hurt him, use him to get higher in social situations…But we realized you aren’t like that at all, and tonight confirmed that even more for me. You could have told Chris no when he asked if I could come over, you could have been rude to me all night, but instead, you welcomed me with open arms.”

She smiles softly at Matt, the same smile being returned to her.

“I had no reason not to welcome you with open arms. Besides the fact that you’re Chris’s family, I could tell you needed a friend. I know you and I aren’t that close, but I wanted to be another person you know you could count on when times got rough. Thank you for trusting me tonight….and thank you and Nick for trusting me with Chris as well.”

“Thanks for being another person on my team….I hope you and Chris last. I’ll actually beat his ass and disown him if he fucks this up.”

Y/n falls out laughing, Matt joining in as well.

The two adults fall into a comfortable silence, the only sound being the soft voice of Sade. This lasts for about 20 minutes before her front door is pushed open, Chris and Nick walking into the living room.

Chris’s eyes immediately land on the two adults sitting on the floor, "well you two look cozy." Chris drops his bag on the couch and sits down next to Y/n, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. She turns to him and smiles, realizing how much she missed his presence.

"Did you guys have a good time at the party?" Nick goes on a tangent about the party and how he got irritated a few times, but overall had a good night.

Not long after the tangent, Nick and Chris join in on the diamond paintings.

"I think this is the most silent Chris has been," Nick jokes. Hearing his name he looks up, putting his tongue that was sticking out in concentration back in his mouth. "Shut the hell up Nick, your painting looks like ass anyway! Right Y/n?" When the girl doesn't answer, Chris looks down only to see the girl sleeping, her hand propping her head up.

He smiles softly at her sleeping frame, "I'm going to get her in bed. There are blankets in that bin over there if you guys want to sleep in the living room. Otherwise, there's a spare room next to the kitchen." The other two boys nod and go back to talking quietly as Chris picks Y/n up, carrying her to her room.

He lays her down on the bed, changing into spare clothes he's left and climbing in next to her. He pulls her close, wrapping his arms around her tightly. Y/n hums and nuzzles her head into his chest. Chris could tell her eyes were open by the way he felt her lashes tickling his chest softly.

“Did you and Matt have a good time? I saw the wine on the table and multiple snap stories.” Her soft and sleepy giggles make Chris smile, his grip on her waist tightening. “It was really nice, I like Matt."

“That’s good, I’m glad…Thank you for helping out. I know I just kind of threw this at you last minute, but I’m really grateful you could help. I know you struggle with anxiety and I just thought you and Matt could work on things together.”

She looks up and gives a dopey smile at his words, “Don’t thank me for doing the bare minimum...I love you."

He trails a hand up her side before gently caressing her face, "I love you too baby-" He plants a soft and delicate kiss on her lips, enjoying the soft moment between the two of them.

He feels her slowly stop kissing back, making him pull away. He chuckles seeing she fell back asleep that quickly. " I got to put you on a wine limit."

He kisses her nose before falling into a deep sleep.

i hate this fic sm im so sorry if nothing makes sense. i did my best to explain my personal feelings towards anxiety and ik it doesn't make sense at times.

𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 🍑: @mattslolita @thenickgirl @guccifrog @luverboychris @zayyluvz @mrsmiagreer @chrisssluttywaist @78yaz @hoesformatt @freshloveforthefit @3lizaluvs @mattsturniolosgirlfriend @jetaimevous @luxy-nyx @ts-is-my-spirt-animal @iihrtsturniol0 @idontexistman @katw4shereee @madisturn @starlace111 @zivall @adoreindie @imwetforyourmom @sturnsxplr-25 @sturncakez @theyluvme-2315

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #chris girl #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #matt girl

[foone]

One thing I think about a lot is that how omegaverse is a sort of meta-setting that can and has been applied to many different fandoms, right?

So there's "omegaverse supernatural" (because that's where it started) and "omegaverse star trek" and "omegaverse Frasier" and "omegaverse Batman" and "omegaverse US presidents".

You can basically easily apply it to any fandom with lots of men in it, which turns out to be most of them. (and you can apply it to the rare female-majority fandoms with a bit of extra work).

But the interesting thing to me is that omegaverse depends on characters having subgenders: alpha/beta/omega are effectively gender roles on top of the regular male/female ones, but they're ones not specified in the original fiction, right? (I mean, not usually).

So like, you can watch NewsRadio and it makes it pretty clear Dave is a man, but it never specifies if he's an alpha or omega, because why would it? Also, why is my go-to example of a random sitcom one from 1995?

Anyway. So you've got a bunch of characters with canonical genders (not that that has ever stopped fans from headcanoning them as different! Dave is a trans man, Lisa is a trans woman, and Bill? All Phil Hartman characters are closeted trans women, so jot that down), but you don't have canonical subgenders.

So fans have to decide which characters in a fiction are alphas and omegas and so on. They tend to be pretty consistent for most characters, actually.

But the part that interests me despite not really reading omegaverse stuff is just those headcanons.

Like, I can take a show I know well, like say Star Trek: The Next Generation, and find out what the fans think their subgenders are.

Like, I'm gonna guess that Riker and Worf are alphas. Picard could go either way. LaForge is an omega, Data is... An android, but he's had sex, so... I'm gonna guess alpha? O'Brien is an omega, but that's mostly going off DS9. Maybe he wasn't in TNG yet? Wesley I'm guessing gets headcanoned as omega.

And see, now I can go look at ao3 and see what other people think for these! And for some reason that's way more interesting to me than just reading any omegaverse fic.

I think we should do more of this sort of shit. I mean, I guess we kinda do for things like top/bottom, dom/sub, trans/cis, but I demand more subgenders! Subgenders that aren't depicted in the fiction but fans have to headcanon.

I kinda want to make a sort of wiki website which works by scraping ao3 tags and assigning alpha/beta/omega to characters from shows, basically a fan vote on how people headcanon the subgenders of these characters.

Anyway I checked and oh boy yeah everyone says Wesley is an omega. Apparently Zefram Cochrane is an omega too.

And the one fic I saw with Data in it made him an omega. Huh. Interesting.

I dunno. It's weird: I've got no interest in reading a fic where these characters fuck in their weird omegaverse ways, but I can't not be interested in knowing how fans headcanon them.

#Omegaverse meta #star trek the next generation

[angelicliima]

California Dreamin' [Backseat Bingo, part i]

masterlist

summary In 2077, Cooper Howard's efforts in the Sino-American war and his achievements on stage and screen have made him a household name across the globe. After his divorce, Cooper decides to throw himself back into his work on screen. Abandoning his dreams of becoming a real cowboy, he supposes acting as one will suffice. That's until he meets you, a rising starlet that's been pinned as the next big thing, that just so happens to be playing his love interest in his new movie... and Cooper can't seem to remember his lines anymore.

cooper howard / the ghoul x f!actress!reader

tags au (pre-war era/vault tec doesn't drop any bombs), older man/younger woman, age gap, reader is early to mid 20s, cooper is mid to late 40s, mentions of sa (nothing too graphic), reader has gender envy kinda, cooper is a tiny bit condescending but only if you squint.

a/n it's finally here!!! this is part one, not sure how many parts there will be just yet, but i'm just so excited to get this out here!💕

word count 1967

The persistent heat of Los Angeles had burned a star shaped hole straight into your heart. For years you had longed to go, to be someone. To create your own life, to live your passion. To be someone other then what you were.

Los Angeles had a reputation, the shining stars of Hollywood congregated there, it was where they worked and where they played. It was mysterious and oh, so enticing to a young girl who watched holotapes everyday after school.

You craved the feeling of the warm sun and the blistering heat, the smell of delicious coffee permeating the air and the dull sound of the crashing waves.

To be a star in Hollywood's constellation was anyone's dream. It was a life of luxury and fun, you'd wager most people would give an arm or leg, or both, to become a household name.

Years of longing and praying to God had payed off, you had bitten the bullet and once again, you prayed. Begged, even. You needed this to work. You couldn't face the shame of moving back home as a failed actress.

It worked. The praying to God had worked.

Or maybe you were just really pretty, and had worked your ass off for months. Waitressing, auditioning and waitressing again until finally you had gotten a part.

A part that you knocked out of the park, one that had changed you life.

In a matter of weeks you had went from a waitress in Sammy's Diner, to America's new sweetheart. Your rundown, one bedroom studio apartment that was severely overpriced considering the mold and the peeling wallpaper had morphed into a lavish villa in Bel-Air.

You had went from scowering for open casting calls to having an agent that was finding you parts, most of which were being offered to you.

Life had taken a turn for the better, and it stayed that way for the following two years.

Now, the glamour of Los Angeles was a part of your daily life, you were used to the heat by now, though never tired of feeling the sun on your smooth, pampered skin.

You had grown accustomed to your fans, your wonderful, ever growing crowd of fanatics that helped grow your confidence more than you would like to admit.

Though, you also had your fair share of negativity, so much so, your management had decided to assign you a bodyguard to accompany you during press and parties.

Most criticism drawn towards you was based on your more... provocative roles, although you had joked that your critics are simply jealous of your appeal.

Now, you could afford to be selective with your roles. You could choose how the public viewed you.

Were you gonna be the femme fatale, the dumb blonde or the screwball heroine?

You had decided to mix the three, who wants to be typecast, anyway?

Now, though, you had landed the female lead in a Solomon Barnes flick, 'Under the Covers', starring the Cooper Howard.

Originally, the part was meant for Vera Keyes, however, the studio (and Barnes, but he'd never admit that), had come to the decision that Keyes' acting was flat, and she wasn't sultry enough for the role.

In other words, you were prettier. And, more willing to take off your clothes.

So, here you were, being driven along to Global Pictures Studios on your first day.

It would be an easy enough gig, all you had to do was be a damsel in distress, bat your eyelashes and smile sweetly. Barnes hadn't exactly written your character with layers.

Seemed like a sweet deal to you.

Only problem was, you were nervous. As you always were, even on jobs that required more of you. You were always able to handle it, of course, it was your job and not only that, you were good at your job, obviously.

Stepping out of the car sent for you by Global, you hurriedly made your way to the makeup trailer, which you found with ease, it wasn't your first time on this lot.

Opening the door to the large trailer, you make sure not to turn around when closing the door, your mother had always told you it was rude.

"Look who it is!" a voice squealed.

Your head snaps in the direction and you can't help the cheeky smile that creeps onto you bare face.

It's Madelyn, the makeup girl, well... your makeup girl.

She had been an assistant makeup artist on your first ever movie, and had quickly became one of your closest friends, so you had no choice but to request her presence on every other set since.

"Scale of one to ten, how excited are you-" she began with burgeoning excitement, quickly embracing you before ushering you to the makeup chair.

"To be working with Cooper Howard?" you interrupt, mocking her tone with a giggle. She must've asked you that question at least 50 times in the past week.

Her head jerks towards you, looking at you sideways through the mirror, a poorly concealed laugh escaping her lips.

"Seriously," she says, eyes squinted, tone stern.

"Meh."

You had never seen the appeal. Sure, you admired him because of his talent and ability, but westerns had never been your thing.

"You are unbelievable," Madelyn shakes her head, giggling, "you're seriously trying to tell me you don't care that you're going to be working with him?"

"It's not that I don't care, I just don't understand all the fuss," you sigh, amusement lacing your tone, "he's just like every other leading man I've worked with. Nothin' special."

Madelyn hums at that, turning to face her makeup palette.

You look straight into the mirror, watching her as she does. You entwine your fingers into eachother and rest your elbows on the armrests of the chair.

What made Cooper Howard so special? He was all anybody ever talked about. Makeup artists, producers, directors, fellow actors... why did everyone adore him so much?

Most leading men you've worked with tended to be a bit egotistical on a good day, but never seriously vicious. Some were nicer than others and some were more prone to snaking their hands just an inch too low on your backside than others.

So, what made Cooper Howard any different? You had heard rumours of his recent divorce, how he'd had to split custody of his daughter with his ex-wife. You felt sorry for him, but more worried for yourself, would his recent shortcomings make him harder to work with?

Honestly, you were surprised you had never met him, you travelled in somewhat of the same social circles due to your profession.

It would be a lie if you said you weren't slightly jealous of him. The adoration he received from practically everyone made your skin crawl, you wondered had you been a man would you be loved unconditionally by the public like he was.

A tinge of anxiety bolted through you like a strike of white, hot lightening.

Before you knew it, you were dressed and ready.

These costumes provided to you always made you feel like a little girl playing dress up again.

You strut towards the indoor set, making pleasantries along the way with PA's and other crew members, you felt ready to face your first day. How could you not be?

It wasn't until you finally arrived inside did your slight panic fully subside. A feeling of ease washed over you. No matter where you were filming, you felt at home on sets, always.

Surveying the set, your gaze locked onto Barnes.

He was short, shorter than you anyway and had a glistening, bald head and his browline glasses amways seemed to make him look like some form of a cartoon. He was in the process of chewing out some poor, unfortunate intern.

He had always been nice to you when you'd seen him at social events, but you didn't think he liked you so much as to offer you a lead role in his movie.

Stalking over to him, he jolted when you spoke up behind him.

"I can't thank you enough for this, Mr. Barnes," you smiled sweetly.

Barnes turned to face you, his own sideways smirk plastered on his face. He looked you up and down, his eyes scanning your outfit. The intern took your distraction as a chance to scurry away like a mouse.

"Please, I should be the one thanking you for signing on on such late notice," he breathed, "you saved this movie from being scrapped by the studio."

"Don't be ridiculous," you shyed away, eyes flickering towards the motel room set that was being built up with final touches, "how could I ever say no to being in a Soloman Barnes picture?"

He laughs gleefully at that.

"I'll have you know flattery doesn't work on me, young lady," he sighs deeply, tone dripping with sarcasm, "but seriously, can we talk about this dress? The ladies in the costume department really took care of you."

"They're the best in the business," you state, "you're lucky to have such talented people working for you."

Barnes begins to speak, some sticky remark on the tip of his tongue, amused by your apparent flattery, but is interrupted by another deep voice, coated in a thick southern drawl.

"I would have to agree."

You spin quickly, following the sound.

Cooper Howard stands directly infront of you, his annoyingly handsome face has a toothy grin spread across it, it looks almost earnest. Maybe it's the lighting. And, of course, a cigarette in hand.

Definitely playing the part of leading man, and the camera isn't even rolling.

He's in costume too, though you notice his isn't nearly as constrictive.

Asshole.

He extends his free hand towards you, which you take. His hands are large and calloused and you almost jump when he clasps his other over yours.

"Mr. Howard-" you start, your voice is a pitch higher than it was a moment ago.

"It’s Cooper, dolly. No need for niceties 'round me," he offers.

Your mouth hangs open slightly, before you nod dumbly.

Jesus Christ, girl, wake up.

You repeat his name sheepishly, almost shyly. Almost.

“There we go,” Cooper tilts hid head slightly, cigarette hanging limply from his lips.

You huff, you feel like a schoolgirl being scolded by a teacher at the top of the class.

"Well, I am honoured," he begins, "I have to admit I am a huge fan of yours."

"Oh, well thank you," you breathe, smoothing you dress out with you jewellery laced hands, head tilted high, chin up.

Barnes chuckles, his head bent sideways, his blue grey eyes meeting your own.

"Not a fan of Mr. Howard?" he teases, very obviously trying to contain his amusement.

You roll your eyes between the pair of men. Seriously?

Cooper raises an expectant eyebrow.

"Not exactly a fan of shitty westerns," you state simply.

Cooper chokes, suddenly finds the vinyl floor very interesting, a pink hue cast over his cheeks.

Barnes gapes at that, not expecting such brassy tones from his young leading lady. And he certainly wasn't expecting her to call his some of his previous work 'shitty'.

"Now, gentlemen, if you could excuse me, I need to acquaint myself with the crew," you proclaim, sauntering away towards the sound technicians.

"She's quite something, isn't she?" Barnes chuckles widly.

Cooper turns to him quickly and nods hesitantly, clicking his tongue.

"Sure is."

He follows Barnes' gaze and watches intently, his lips pulled into a tight line as you smile with glossed lips at the sound guys, all of whom are watching you speak adoringly, bashful smiles and scrunched noses as they bathe in sunshine of your presence, a harsh contrast to what Cooper had just received.

Cooper sighs.

He's fucked.

~

tagged people @whatiswrongwithpeople @sarasxe @htchnr @lilivanilli @eykismyfav @spookyspecterino @sillysimping @anonymous-creep @chainsawangel @harveysgirl101 @lovziy @b00tycheeks @ss108 @babyinatrench-coat1 @auroranodyssey @ghcstvibess @looneylooomis @valhallavalkyrie9 @ineffablebean @gobsalad @ddarling-ddearest-ddead @sitkafay

#cooper howard fic #backseat bingo #walton goggins #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x fem!reader

[luimagines]

*Your requests are open, its 2:30am and I'm craving First content.*

You know that scene in HTTYD2 with Stoick and Valka

"Go on! Shout! Scream! Say something!"

"You're as beautiful as the day I lost you"

Either First as Stoick or as Valka would be interesting (or if First refuses to cooperate, Warriors or Twilight or Time would be fun)

*not me saying to myself I hope I'm bulletproof cause this is about to hurt*

Insanity, I'm going to run wild with this, thank you.

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

First wasn't about to let anyone get close to him. Not again.

He knew that he was still young enough to find someone to settle down with, but ever since you left, he couldn't find it in his heart to seek another.

There's a hole in his heart in your shape that was never to be filled again.

Then he was arrested. For a crime he didn't commit.

That was enough for him to give up. If he was to spend the rest of his days here, then so be it. The people have made their choice. He was a hollow man anyway.

The days crept by slowly. There was very little he could do the past the time except for daydream about a time where he was younger nd more carefree. A time when you were still by his side.

He had hoped to have a family. To be a father and raise children.

Dashed to pieces and scattered by the wind, his dreams failed to bring up happy memories and left him with dreamless and futile sleep.

Years go by and eventually he's set free at last. He's not as strong as he used to be but the people need him to fight. He's not sure how he's going to do that at this point, but if he is to die; then he would rather go down a hero.

It's not like you'll be there to patch him up at the end of the day anyway.

Instead, as he opens his eyes after the fight, there's another bandaging his wounds. He's vaguely aware that he won the fight and that he's lost a lot of blood but that's about it.

The rest of his life is lived in a haze.

He's sent to go find a special item for the people now that he's proven himself again but there's little that'll prove to Link that it exists.

Instead he finds a cave that he's been explored before and enters it with little thought. He's not expecting much. If there's monsters in here then he can dispose of them and call it a day before he goes back to town and tells the people that there was no such item.

"S-stay back!"

He freezes and raises his lantern. Link's greeted by massive crystals covering the walls of the rock, mirroring the light from his lantern and lighting up the small space as it is.

There's a cloth on the floor and a few supplies.

But that's not what has his attention.

"....It's you..." You breathe and panic seems to fill your system.

Link can only stare. It's as if you're here to haunt him, only you don't seem happy to see him. He can't find it in himself to complain though. He's wanted to see you at least one last time all these years. He wonders if he's actually dying a second time and this was a gift bestowed on him for doing his duty.

"I... I know what you're going to say, Link." You wince and try to stand. You're hurt... Or rather, you have been hurt. It must be difficult to move. "I know that you'd ask why I left. Why I stayed away all these years... and why I didn't come back to you..."

Link takes a step forward and you scramble the best you can to your feet despite the obvious pain. His heart clenches. The questions you throw at him are already answered for him. It would have been difficult to come back to him even if you wanted to.

You being to tear up. "I'm sure you'd want to know everything. A-and I know that I was wrong. I knew from the start. But I couldn't-"

He steps closer, gently putting his lantern on the floor so that it still lights up the place.

Your voice only seem to grow higher and more frantic. "I couldn't! Link, please. Not like this. I couldn't. Please believe me!"

He does and steps closer.

"Link! Answer me. Shout! Scream! I don't care if you start throwing things! Just say something!"

He stops in front of you, trapping you against the wall of the cave. He reaches out and hesitates before tucking a piece of your overgrown hair behind your ear.

"You're just as beautiful as the day I lost you."

Your tears fall as he leans to kiss you, to solidify this dream, to prove to himself that he's not hallucinating.

You don't kiss him back, but that's ok. You're real and you're here and you're alive.

This is far better than any item he was sent to find.

#legend of zelda #first link #link x reader #first link x reader #a bit short #in comparison to how this was about to go #but it's to the point i suppose #bitter sweet

[paradiseprincesss]

tale as old as time - jonathan crane x reader

masterlist

notes: based off of this post by @kpopgirlbtssvt! sorry its taken me so long, ive been lacking a little motivation recently lol.

summary: your dad works for the gotham police department, and he has been looking into jonathan's experiments on his patients. in a panic, jonathan decides to kidnap you and use you as blackmail against your dad so that he stops looking into the corruption of arkham. though you're awfully scared at first, you discover that maybe being held "hostage" in a big, beautiful mansion with a man who slowly becomes enamoured with you isn't as bad as you'd originally thought.

word count: 4.7k

warnings: kidnapping, fear-toxin, kissing, swearing, i dont know if this classifies as stockholm syndrome but yeah maybe that too, and fluff

you flipped the sign over so that it read "closed" and tidied up around the bookstore. it was a quiet day today, business was a little slow but that was alright - you only worked here part time, anyway.

you worked at a cozy, little bookstore right in the heart of gotham. it was owned by an older man, and you worked three days a week there while you completed your college courses. most shifts, you would be the one closing since the store wasn't open very late anyways. the latest it would be open was seven.

ever since you were a little girl, you'd had an obsession with all things books and literature. you loved reading more than anything, and you couldn't count how many books you owned if you tried. the shelves in your apartment were lined with different pieces of literature, and you found yourself passing time by reading most days - that is, if you didn't have homework, of course.

as you were closing up, you texted your friend that you were heading home for the night as you stared at the clock.

6:58 PM.

you sighed, locking the door behind you as you locked up for the night. you'd be back tomorrow morning, but you didn't mind. like i said, all things books and reading were right up your alley. you were a total bookworm. after locking up and walking down the street back to your apartment, you noticed that the streets of gotham were awfully empty tonight. you barely saw anyone walking while you were on your way home, and you made note to rush back to your apartment tonight.

before you could get to your apartment, a figure stopped you. as you were passing through an eerie alleyway (which you always considered to be a shortcut), a white cloud of gas invaded your senses. you started to cough like crazy, and you felt your throat tightening up. your vision began to blur, and you started to hear voices and whispers from all different directions. in a panic, you tried to run but with disturbed vision and clouded senses - you didn't get very far before you were on the ground.

before you could even register what was happening around you, a pair of hands reached out to grab you. suddenly, your felt yourself being thrown into a vehicle of some sort before blacking out. it all happened so quickly.

"where is she?" you heard what appeared to be your dads voice yelling over the phone, "what did you do to her? answer me!"

as you opened your eyes to see what was going on, you felt a sharp, sudden onset of pain in your head. with a small groan, you reach up and rubbed your temple in hopes to ease the pain. as your eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, you noticed you were in a room of some sort. it was rather luxurious, as there was expensive looking art pieces hanging on the walls along with velvety drapes hanging from the windows.

you looked down to realize you were laying on a plush, king sized bed that had fluffy pillows littered out behind you, as well as a cozy, fuzzy duvet to keep you warm. suddenly, you remembered how you got here - you were kidnapped.

panic surged through your veins as you started to freak out. desperate to find some sort of explanation, you get out of the bed and draw open the curtains to see where you were. as you looked outside, it was nightfall. the moonlight was illuminating the room you stood in, and after attempting to open the window - you noticed it was locked. you continued to keep trying, but it wouldn't budge. of course it wouldn't. what kind of kidnapper would be dumb enough to leave the windows unlocked?

in a state of pure panic, you run towards the door and fumble with the handle, but it was locked like the windows. looking around the room, you tried to find any other exits, but it appeared that the only two ways to escape were either the door or the window. both of which were locked shut. you closed your eyes for a moment, feeling tears start to pool in them. after wiping the tears off your cheeks, you sigh and get back into the comfy looking bed.

if you were being kidnapped, why was your kidnapper holding you hostage in such a nice place? from what you knew, when most people got kidnapped or held hostage, they were taken to a confined, dirty, eerie place where they were usually being held at either gun point or at knife point. neither of which were currently happening to you. instead, you were locked in what looked to be a big room in an even bigger mansion in god knows where.

"let her go!" you heard your dads voice again, and it was coming from outside of the door.

"dad?" you call out with panic in your voice.

"was that her?" your dads voice said, "where's my daughter, crane?"

suddenly, the door to the bedroom made a click sound, and someone walked in before closing the door behind them. you peered over to see a tall man standing in the room with you. he was wearing a suit with glasses, and he had a phone in his hands. as soon as you saw him, you started to tremble.

"i told you," the man spoke into his phone, "i have her here. i'll continue to keep her here for as long as you keep investigating arkham asylum."

"let her go, please," your dad begged over the phone, "just let her go and i'll stop looking into it."

"i'm afraid i can't do that," the man spoke once more, "you've gotten your officers to snoop around arkham one too many times for my liking." after that, he hung up on your father.

your dad was the director general of the gotham city police department, which meant he oversaw everything in the jurisdiction of gotham when it came to police and law enforcement. he'd been looking into the corruption of arkham asylum for months now, waiting for jonathan to slip up - but he never did. he knew the game your father was playing at.

jonathan knew that the GCPD was onto him, so he made sure to keep all illegal activities under wraps and very discreet. he was aware that your dad, along with a bunch of officers and detectives, were looking into him and watching his every move. jonathan was certain he needed to take action before they started looking into his work and discovered something he didn't want them to see.

that's where you came in. you were the director generals daughter, and everyone knew that. your dad loved you dearly, and he would always talk about you and how proud he was of your achievements whenever he could. this information lead jonathan to cultivate a plan to make sure your dad and his men would never look into arkham again.

he decided to kidnap you, essentially. he knew that you were the light of your fathers life, and if he held you hostage and used you for ransom, surely your dad would stop looking into him as long as it meant he got his daughter back.

so, that's what jonathan decided to do. he'd been stalking you for weeks, learning everything about you. from what time you left the house to what your favourite coffee order was. he knew everything.

last night, him and his men put his plan into motion. he waited for you in the alleyway you always took home as a shortcut, and he dosed you with a very mild form of his toxin. it would temporarily cause your vision to become disturbed and some possible auditory hallucinations, but you wouldn't succumb to your worst fears like you would with a concentrated dose.

after you were out of it from the toxin, him and his men loaded you up into a white van, speeding off into the night as they headed to jonathans hideout. it was over an hour away from gotham, but jonathan was willing to make the sacrifice if it meant having you in an undetectable place. so be it if he had to drive over an hour back to arkham every time he had to work - that didn't matter to him.

"please," you whimpered as you cowered away to the farthest corner of the bed, "d-dont hurt me."

jonathan looked at you in silence, his icy blue eyes reminding you of the glaciers in the antarctic. 'i'm not going to hurt you," he sighed, looking at you in your fragile state, "...you don't have to be afraid."

you looked up at your kidnapper, and he seemed to be telling the truth. he didn't come closer to you and stayed a good distance away - plus, if he really wanted to hurt you, he wouldn't keep you in such good conditions.

"you kidnapped me." you whispered.

yes, he did. he knew that, obviously, but he didn't intend on actually harming you. again, if he really wanted to hurt you, he would've used the concentrated version of his fear toxin on you by now. the more he learned about you from stalking you, the less inclined he felt to harm you.

sure, he may of hated your father and wanted him dead, but you weren't your father. you were someone else, your own person - you were entirely different. you didn't go around snooping in other peoples businesses, you kept to yourself. jonathan found it a little endearing that you worked at a bookstore of all places while making your way through college. as a fellow bookworm and academic, he almost felt like he could see a part of himself in you.

you were kind to everyone you met; that was one of the first things he had noticed about you. your politeness was unmatched, and he liked that about you. he liked that you were a gentle soul, someone who never had any bad intentions. that was when he decided that even though he was technically going to hold you "hostage," he wasn't going to hurt you. if anything, he felt an overwhelming need to take care of you. to dote on you, even.

"but i'm not going to hurt you," he said softly, "i told you. although, your dad has been...causing quite the commotion at arkham with his investigations."

"what does that have to do with me?" you whimpered.

"not much," he informs you, "however, i know you are of great importance to your father. since he decided to start to look into arkham, a lot of my plans have been...deterred. that's where you come in - if he wants to take something important away from me, i will, of course, do the same."

"so you kidnapped me to get revenge on my father?" you quipped quietly.

"it seems that way, yes." he says curtly, as his magnetic blue eyes bore into yours.

"will you let me go?" you asked.

"i'm afraid not, my dear," he says softly, "though i wish i could, it would be foolish of me. you would go running to the police, and then where would we be?"

"wait - are you trying to keep me here forever?" you asked in a panic-filled voice.

"for now, yes. unless your father agrees to keep me off gotham pd's radar as well as wipe all his investigative files regarding arkham asylum, you will have to remain here."

silently in your head, you begged your father to do so. you didn't want to be stuck here forever. tears pricked the corners of your eyes, and the mystery man looked at you sympathetically.

"there is no need to cry, my dear." he says in a hush tone, finally making his way over to the bed where you were quivering.

you back up as soon as he steps any closer to the bed, and he freezes. you started to full on sob into the pillows, dramatically throwing yourself onto the bed whilst crying softly. he almost chuckled at the act, but he kept his composure as he sat on the edge of the bed. he reached a hand out to pet your hair as you cried, and this time, you didn't even pull away.

"it'll be alright," he cooed softly, "you'll come to like your life here. at least, i hope you will."

you look up from the pillows, dragging the duvet cover over you as you continue to sniffle. "i don't even know who you are." you inform him.

"jonathan crane." he says softly, continuing his attempts to comfort you. "i'm so very sorry that it all had to be this way," he whispered, still petting your hair as your tears started to slowly stop, "i'm sorry that you had to pay for your fathers mistakes."

though his words seemed menacing, his tone was ever so gentle. he didn't yell at you, force your hand, or try to do anything that would imply he wanted to hurt you. for a moment, you almost forgot that you had just been kidnapped and made to be a hostage for blackmail.

jonathan got up, sighing as you watched him from your plush, king sized bed. you were still shaken up, and he decided it would be best to give you a little bit of space - especially if you were to suddenly react or get volatile with him. he wouldn't want to scare you any more than he already did, even though he really did not want to nor did he intend to.

"the door will be unlocked," he said softly, "i will be working downstairs in my office. if i am not here and instead working at arkham, the staff around the house will be more than happy to take care of you."

with that, he closed the door gently, leaving you in the dimly lit, luxurious bedroom all alone. staff? what did he mean by that? like, butlers and maids? you assumed so, as jonathan must have had a good amount of cash stacked up from his criminal activities. as much as you wanted to leave and escape, a part of you felt too tired to do so - plus, if you were being honest; this place was way nicer than your apartment.

with a sigh, you felt yourself grow weary from the exhausting events of the day. with heavy eyes, you slowly started to drift off into sleep as the soft, fuzzy duvet covers wrapped around you to keep you warm while you slept.

you awoke some time later, though you weren't entirely sure when. you looked over to the large window, and the sun was beaming down into the room, illuminating it cheerfully. you rubbed your eyes and did a little stretch before getting out of bed. you were still in your clothes from yesterday, which weren't the most comfortable.

with a huff, you attempt at opening the door - and it was unlocked. pushing the door open, you peer your head into the corridor, which was long and full of different doors leading to different rooms. the walls were decorated beautifully, and the whole home looked expensive. you wandered into the halls, eventually coming to a spiral staircase. you know, like those fancy ones in those expensive homes.

"you're awake." a voice from behind you said, making you jump. "sorry, i didn't mean to startle you."

turning around, you see jonathan standing there in another suit. "yeah," you mumble, "i...wanna take a shower and change into comfy clothes."

you felt awkward saying this to your...kidnapper, but it seemed he didn't have an issue with it. he gave you a nod along with a small smile.

"of course, i assumed you'd want that," he spoke softly, "i had all your belongings brought from your apartment back here. however, if there is anything else you would like, please let me know."

"why are you being so nice to me?" you ask suddenly, genuinely curious as to why you were being treated so kindly.

jonathan didn't know how to answer this - he didn't want to flat out tell you that he thought you were absolutely beautiful and that your personality matched the way you looked. he thought it'd be a little strange to do so. as diabolical as the man was, he had grown to have a little soft spot for you after watching you for so long. he couldn't bring himself to hurt you even if he tried.

"because as much as i hate your father, you haven't done anything to me." he told you.

"my dad said you've...killed countless people. why aren't you doing that to me?" you ask, getting braver.

"you aren't useful if you are dead," he says coldly, his demeanour changing, "what kind of leverage would i have over your father if i killed you?"

"fair point," you reply, "but-"

"would you rather i keep you chained and starved in a cold, eerie basement of some sort?" he asked sharply, and you could see that he was starting to get defensive.

"never mind, sorry." you say quietly, looking at the ground.

jonathan sighs, taking his glasses off as he pinches the bridge of his nose. "i apologize, i've had quite the morning," he offers an apology, "there's a bathroom down the hall to your left. everything you'd need is in there."

you look up at him, getting captivated in his icy eyes for just a moment before nodding. not offering a response, you make your way down the hall and just as he said, there was a bathroom to your left. stepping inside and closing the door behind you, you take a moment to collect yourself. eventually, you turn the knob of the shower on. the shower was huge, the whole bathroom was - you were living in luxury.

after you showered, you dried your hair and threw on your favourite pyjamas that were left on the counter of the bathroom for you. after you got ready, you hesitantly made your way downstairs as you were quite hungry. shyly, you approach the kitchen after getting lost in the many halls of the huge mansion, and you see jonathan standing there with a cup of coffee in his hands. as soon as he notices you, his eyes seemingly light up at your presence.

"i'm sure you're hungry," he says softly, "what would you like to eat for breakfast?"

"um," you say hesitantly, unsure as to what to say back to him, "i don't- i'm not sure."

"i assure you that my chef can cook whatever you desire." he tells you, sipping on his coffee.

his chef? how much money did this man have? you pushed your questions to the side, and told him what you wanted to have for breakfast. jonathan had his chef cook your preferred meal for breakfast, and after you ate, he came back into the kitchen to check up on you.

"feeling better?" he asked softly, leaning against the counter as you sat on a barstool in the kitchen.

"i-i guess." you stammer out.

you were feeling a little better than yesterday. it seemed that your captor truly had no intentions of hurting you, though the reason behind that was seemingly still a mystery.

"i'm glad," he says softly, "i have a large library located in my office, if you'd like to look around and read something. i know you...have an interest in literature."

"oh," you say quietly, "okay."

"i have quite of bit of work to get done today, so i wouldn't mind some company. you can read while i work." he informs you, and honestly - you didn't hate the sound of that.

though he was a deranged criminal, he didn't seem half bad. he was a gentleman and he had manners, plus he'd shown you a remarkable amount of kindness and freedom. well, as much as he could for a hostage, that is. even just twenty-four hours in though, you were starting to feel less like a kidnapping victim and more like...well, not that.

"come, my dear," he says softly, reaching his hand out to which you hesitantly placed yours in, "this way."

the two of you walked together hand in hand to his office. he pushed the doors open, and your eyes lit up at the sight in front of you. inside of his office, there were walls lined with rows and rows of books. all sorts of literature, ranging from science-fiction, to fantasy, to autobiographies. it was every bookworms dream.

"i will be working on some paperwork," he informs you, letting go of your hand to go sit at his desk, "but, please. read anything you want, i have quite the collection."

"i can see that," you say in awe, "can i just sit on the couch over there?"

"of course, my dear," he says, "there's a fuzzy blanket on the edge there, too, if you get cold."

you glance over at the couch once more, and yes, there was a cozy little blanket draped over the edge of it. happily, you skim through the books for a good while before picking one you thought would be a good read. plopping down on the couch, you wrap yourself up in the blanket before getting lost in the book you'd chosen. for a moment, you had forgotten why you were here in the first place.

jonathan watched you as his heart raced, a faint blush covering his cheeks. your personality was adorable, and so were you. you looked so cute happily skimming through the books, and even cuter with your nose buried in the pages as you wrapped yourself in a fuzzy blanket. he couldn't help but smile to himself as he stole glances at you in the midst of doing his work.

over the next few months, you and jonathan developed a routine. you'd keep him company while reading in his office, and he would work quietly at his desk. it was rather comforting, as the two of you had grown closer from it. everyday you started to feel more and more at ease with him, and slowly, you started to become less and less afraid of him, too.

jonathan liked it this way. so did you. if he was working at arkham, you'd find yourself missing him, and when he returned, you'd greet him with excitement. his way of living was something you could get used to - it was luxurious. you were waited on hand and foot in this big home of his, and he would always take care of you the best he could, as well as keeping you safe.

today, jonathan had come home from a particularly long and tiring shift at arkham. he was exhausted, and all he wanted to do was go lay in bed and rot away, if he was being totally honest. it had been a tedious day of dealing with screaming patients and volatile criminals that he'd deemed insane.

"jon!" he heard your voice call out for him as soon as he opened the front door, "are you home?"

"i'm home!" he called back, watching as you rushed down the stairs to come see him.

over time, you found yourself not wanting to leave anymore. jonathan trusted you, as he'd leave the doors unlocked (even the front door and your windows), because he knew you wouldn't leave. gotham city was terrifying, and it was filled with hardened criminals and awful people. it was much safer in his home instead of out in gotham, where anything could happen to you at anytime.

soon, you started to see him in a different light. though you knew now that he was the scarecrow, you couldn't quite see him as the dangerous monster everybody painted him out to be. he'd always dote on you, speak to you so gently, treat you with such kindness, and give you everything you asked for. not to mention, he was undeniably attractive. you tried to push those thoughts aside, but they just kept coming back.

"i missed you." you said quietly, giving him a small smile as you started to blush profusely.

"i missed you too, angel." he said back, opening his arms for you to run into.

happily, you ran into his arms as he gave the top of your head a chaste kiss. he wrapped his arms around you with a heavy sigh, and you look up at him with an innocent expression on your face.

"hard day at work?" you ask, to which he nods.

"very," he says, "i'm going to be upstairs if you need me, okay?"

"can i come with you?" you asked hopefully.

"of course you can." he says, taking your hand in his as he walked you upstairs with him.

as soon as he got to his bedroom, he threw his briefcase onto his bed with an agitated huff. he loosened up his tie and you crawled onto his bed, watching his every move in fascination. he threw his suit jacket off onto the edge of the bed before coming down to lay down beside you, scrolling through his phone lazily.

hesitantly, you made your way over to him. there was obvious tension between the both of you, as you would always sit close to each other but never cuddled up to one another. there would be times where you would greet him with a hug as he got home, looking up at him lovingly, but you'd never actually kiss. both of you were too hesitant to make the first move out of sheer nervousness, and given the circumstances you were in, neither of you were sure what it would mean for the two of you.

quietly, you found your way into his arms, resting your head on his chest. his one arm instinctively came to wrap around you, while he scrolled on his phone with the other. as you lay there, you could hear his heart beating much faster now, and yours started to beat much faster, too. neither of you said a word, and you felt your own eyes become heavy after a few minutes.

"are you sleepy?" he mumbled tiredly, putting his phone away and looking down at you with adoration in his eyes.

"a little." you confess, smiling at him softly.

jonathan was quiet for a couple seconds. he started down at you with those pretty blue eyes of his, and took in your every detail. he looked at you softly, taking note of your gorgeous features. with a sigh, he cracked a small smile.

"you're so pretty." he finally says, reaching one hand out to brush a strand of hair away from your face. "i don't ever want to let you go."

your heart palpitated in your chest at his words, and you felt your cheeks heat up. "i don't want to ever leave." you confess breathlessly.

"then don't." he says quietly, before kissing you softly as you lay there in his arms, wrapped up in pure bliss.

truthfully - your dad had stopped looking into jonathan months ago in hopes to get you back from him. he pleaded jonathan to give you over as he thought something may have happened to you, but at this point, you'd already gotten attached. you called your dad to let him know that you were okay and totally unharmed, but that you no longer wanted to return home.

as messed up as it was, life seemed to be better here with jonathan. it was safer. you got everything you asked for, and you had jonathan to keep you company. your father gave you a mouthful about how jonathan was a dangerous, cynical man who never had any good intentions, but you weren't too convinced. sure, he was a cold-hearted, borderline psychopathic doctor who was slowly poisoning gotham city with his fear toxin, but he wasn't like that with you. in fact, you theorized that he truly hated everyone but you.

he was so gentle with you, so kind and so loving. he would always make sure you got everything you wanted, and he even helped you with your studies. he would have someone drive you to and from gotham u so that you could finish your degree and attend your lectures. even though the opportunity to flee presented itself on numerous occasions; you always found your way back into jonathans arms at the end of the day.

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#cillian murphy #cillian x reader #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian x fem!reader #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane x f!reader #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x reader #cillian fic #cillian fanfic #cillian murphy fic #cillian x y/n #dr jonathan crane #cillian murphy fanfiction #jonathan crane fanfic #jonathan crane x you #jonathan crane #jonathan crane x fem!reader #jonathan crane x y/n #jonathan crane x female reader #the scarecrow #scarecrow x reader

[navstuffs]

Synesthesia

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x GN!Reader

Summary: "A condition in which stimulation of one sense generates a simultaneous sensation in another". Or aka the fic where Gojo Satoru fucks you inside his domain expansion.

Trigger Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!, SMUT, tiny squint of dubcon (reader goes mind blank inside the domain), creampie, multiple powerful orgasms, reader gender isn't mentioned

Author's Notes: probably the hardest smut i have ever written. idk how many times this has been done in the fandom (im sure tons) and one time i read this INSANELY good fic abt it and have never found it again. anyway, enjoy! credit on the images from this post right here.

other gojo fics

An average person will feel many sensations in this world, either physically and/or spiritually (if you believe in that type of stuff). Before meeting Gojo Satoru, your emotions were still there to remind you, hey, you are human: come and feel us; you can't stop us.

Everything changed after you met Satoru.

Gojo Satoru wasn't normal. Even in your first meeting, even without being a cursed user, you could tell something was off about him in the best way possible. The white hair, the ethereal blue eyes behind the sunglasses, or the fact that he consumed sweets as someone should be consuming water. Even your concerns about diabetes didn't feel necessary with this man. 

And then you started dating him. Yes, you, the average human being of this world, the single person in the million of eight billion or more. And he chose you, fell for you, for some crazy idea in his head. You became his new drug in the best way possible. Gojo Satoru could never have had enough of you. 

The kisses were intoxicating, and his neediness was that of someone who could not hear the word "no." Satoru would pout like a child, his head down enough that you could see his eyes shining through his sunglasses. And you would say "yes" as if only that vision persuaded you (it was your heart speaking).

Now, fucking Gojo Satoru, that was on a whole new level. At this point, you knew of the curses, the Jujutsu world, and the fact that somehow you are dating the strongest of that universe (?!). Fucking Gojo Satoru was not like fucking your other lovers. Satoru was entirely in during sex. As in head, soul, mind, the total package deal. And it was only fair you gave him the same. 

-x-

"What would happen to normal humans inside your domain expansion?" 

The question is met with curiosity by Gojo, who is wearing his black bandana today. He ponders for a moment, one finger toward his chin (because you said once he looked cute doing it, and he does it every time now). "They probably wouldn't be able to see it. Just feel it."

"Could it be considered safe?"

"Mhmmm, let me think. For some milliseconds. Why?"

"Nothing."

Oh, but Satoru had already perceived your interest. Your eyes did not meet his, and you tried to look away, embarrassed. His smile grew from his side lips until Satoru questioned, his voice low, " Is there anything I should know of?"

"You promise you won't laugh?"

-x- 

That's how you end up on top of him, his dick buried deep inside your body. It is already overwhelming, suffocating almost, the air being pulled from your lungs every time your hips meet his, and you weren't even inside his domain yet. Satoru insisted on starting slowly for your safety: 0.1, 0.2 seconds max, according to his estimation. 

"Now?"

"Are you close?" You shake your head impatiently, furrowing your brows. "Didn't think so."

Differing from all the other nights, you sense Satoru's tension. He can't relax, not even without you moaning in his ear. It's not that Satoru believes he will hurt you; Satoru has to consider the slight possibility of what could happen if he lost control for a tiny second and ended up frying your brain on accident.

"'Toru. Focus on me." You demand, squeezing his nipple so he can come back to you.

Satoru reacts: he starts rubbing in between in the middle of your legs, stroking your sex in a way only he knew how to do, after weeks of studying your reactions every time you had sex. In less than two weeks, the prick had learned places you haven't even discovered yet. It had to be six eyes, giving your body away like that. Biting where the neck meets your shoulder together with a particular way of fucking you and hitting on the place that made you see stars could make you cum in minutes. You are thankful he is the strongest because Satoru had ruined you for any other person who existed. 

"Focus, honey."  His voice is steady, his chest heaving up and down.

If someone asked you how a mere mortal felt bringing God to his knees, you would know exactly how to explain. That's exactly how you felt fucking Satoru. Like now, with his hands on your hips, helping you sink inside further every time, your open palms resting on his chest for support. It feels powerful and mythical; his mouth parted away like that, licking his lips from time to time. Satoru is a proud moaner, loud and about - but for this time, his forehead is furrowed in concentration, and barely any noises are coming from him. If it were any other time, Satoru would have helped you or taken control when it had gotten too much for his small patience to handle, moving his hips until you were a blabbering mess.

But now, he has to be focused on not harming you. The situation is even more thrilling if you think like that. Bring a God to his knees because if you don't, he might kill you with his power.

"Satoru!" You moan, needy. A warning that you are getting close.

His white hands raise, and you watch (as always) fascinated as the bandana comes off, even forgetting about your looming orgasm. Gojo Satoru is the most attractive man you have ever seen in your entire life, and if you believe in reincarnation, about ten more lives. He has a smirk on his lips now, happy with the way he affects you. I mean, how couldn't he? 

"Domain expansion, Unlimited Void."

Everything stops. The air stops moving, and time stops. You are paralyzed, your eyes wide, feeling everything and nothing at the same time. Your mind goes blank in the total sense of that word; you can't form a single thought. You forget your name, can't remember your parents' names, or where you were born, what you do. 

At the same time, everything is being shown to you; your consciousness is there, floating lost in the sky, but you can't grasp it. The only thing you can feel is your orgasm, but even that feels like it has toned down, a small explosion the size of a jelly bean growing inside your stomach.

The next thing you know, you wake up in Satoru's arms, gasping for air, shaking, with tears coming down your eyes. You can't stop squirming, and you realize it is your orgasm, with so much energy that could light up an entire city, spreading in your veins and going back into your brain at a swift speed, amplifying your senses. Then you find yourself staring at Satoru's blue eyes, and your mind goes blank again, but not like when you were inside the Unlimited Void. No, now you can feel everything: Satoru's love, Satoru's shooting his cum inside of you, Satoru's hand gripping your hips, the scream coming out of your throat!

Satoru is murmuring something, praising you, saying he loves you, but you pass out again, and the entire world goes black. Satoru holds you, feeling your heartbeat, not placing his bandana on his eyes, your body twitching unconsciously. 

You return to him after a few minutes - if anyone asked Gojo, precisely two minutes, twenty seconds, two exact milliseconds, almost three. 

"'Toru?" Your voice sounds exhausted, grateful, and in disbelief all at the same time.

"I'm here, honey. I'm here. You are okay." He kisses your forehead, holding you tightly in his arms, still buried deep inside you.

Later, when you ask, Satoru will answer that he had felt your orgasm within you. He had never seen you so out of this world, literally dumbfucked. He won't confess he got worried for a second and ended up placing you inside his domain for ONLY one millisecond. You also won't confess yet that you wanted to try again, up to 0.3 seconds (normal humans wouldn't survive), but who cares? You want Satoru to fry your brain. Instead, you will roll your eyes at his answer, slapping his arm playfully, and he won't even turn infinite on because it is you. And who is he to ever deny you? You who finally made his life whole. 

You that had a God wrapped around your finger.

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru #gojo satoru fanfic #satoru gojo fanfic #satoru smut

[spotsandsocks]

The Last of the Tea is Gone

This started life as a title prompt from ask game sent to me by @madambeetrootn who I can not tag sadly. They liked it, I liked it so I’ve spruced it up and here it is for a bit of light fluff before 7x10 breaks our heart.

If there’s one thing that Eddie does not like it’s doing the grocery shop, regardless of his feelings though he’ll do a good job, a thorough job and that means making a list. So it’s time to look through the cupboards and check what they need.

The second cupboard door he opens generates a frustrated growl. Reaching up with clenched teeth, he shakes his head, how many times does he have to tell him? Again! This is sadly not the first time he’s found an empty box of teabags sitting on the shelf.

It’s Buck’s tea, the one that he drinks whenever he’s round. Disgusting stuff but for some reason he loves it.

Sighing the sigh of the long suffering Eddie grabs hold of the offending cardboard, why can’t that man ever put an empty box or bottle in the recycling. It’s not that hard. Eddie manages it every day. Even Chris half the time but Buck not so much.

The moment freezes as Eddie looks at his hand holding the vanished tea and a thought blazes through his mind bright and intense and overwhelming.

Buck keeps his tea here, the thought shifts and changes, no …he keeps Buck’s tea here, for him. He remembers buying the last box clearly. Buck wasn’t even with him that day, he was grocery shopping on his own, and why is Buck even with him sometimes when he does the grocery shopping anyway?

After that question others flood his mind.

Why does he buy Buck’s tea? Why does it run out so often?

What does it mean?

He knows, oh god he knows… finally he sees it.

Eddie stays frozen to the spot, staring at the small cardboard cartoon that’s caused him to have an existential crisis in his own kitchen.

Footsteps and a voice finally shake him.

“What’s wrong?” Buck sounds worried. Eddie supposes he probably does make an unusual picture right now. Staring at an empty box. He looks up and finds blue eyes and a frown close by.

“The last of the tea is gone.”

Perfectly clear from his point of view but not so much from Buck’s

“The last of the tea is gone?,” The sentence is repeated with concern and a deepening frown. “And that’s …. a bad thing? You don’t even drink my tea, why are you so upset about it?”

“It doesn’t last very long.”

Another random comment from Eddie at least as far as Buck is concerned but the words mean everything to Eddie.

Buck steps closer, a hand tentatively reaching out to support his best friend through his unexpectedly complicated feelings about tea. He speaks slowly.

“No… that’s ‘cos I drink it. That’s what you do with tea…Eddie are you ok.?”

He’s a man of action always had been so now he knows, well there’s really no option but to do something with the information. He answers his best friend, the man who’s ended up so much more important to him than he could ever have imagined on the day they met. The man he buys tea for and the man who drinks it in his home so often it barely lasts.

“Not really.” Eddie looks at Buck and wonders if he can see what’s coming. “Well maybe …I guess it depends on if you’re in love with me because I just worked out I’m in love with you.”

Buck laughs, a brief surprised bark of humor and then his grin lights up the kitchen.

“Really? That’s what finally did it? An empty box of tea?

Eddie smiles back, how could he not when he has this.

“Apparently. So… are you?”

Eddie doesn’t get an answer but he does get a kiss and that kiss tastes like Buck’s stupid tea, which is isn’t so bad after all.

Maybe he’ll get two boxes next time.

#911 abc #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie #buddie ficlet #911 fic #911fic #fluff #no time to tag #be back to do that later #title prompt game #buddie fic

[bbieangel]

”𝐴𝑠 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑 𝑓𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑠 𝑑𝑜𝑤𝑛”

No outbreak!Joel x Fem!Reader

A/N: This is my first time ever publishing something I wrote in english. Please be kind! English isn't my first language so I can't guarantee you won't find mistakes! Also this was inspired by the scene in Labyrinth where David Bowie sings "As the world falls down" to Sarah. The protagonist and Joel are wearing very similar outfits as the ones they used in the movie. I hope y'all like it and if you have any suggestions, let me know!

Summary: Your friends convince you to go out to a masquerade ball and, while you wander by yourself, you encounter a mysterious man; Joel Miller.

Word count: 9k (kinda long ik)

Tags: Joel is a gentleman, pinning against a wall, reader doesn't really like going out because of a previous situation, kisses, fluff, no angst or smut, lots of compliments and cute pet names.

There's no smut on this one, just trying out for fun and see what I'm more comfortable with:)

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

It was the perfect summer night.

"C'mon! You never go out with us!" Chelsea had told you and.. she was right.

You couldn't deny it. You weren't really the type to go out. Not after that particular night.

But the way your friends insisted made your heart go softer and you finally gave in, gaining a round of cheers from them. The situation sparked a little bit of hope inside of your chest. And that spark quickly turned into a fire.

So.. you had said yes, actually excited to go out for the first time in a long while. You couldn't stop thinking about what you would wear: what do people wear to a masquerade ball anyways?

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

As the evening of that day came, you were deep inside of your closet, looking for something to wear. Until.. you saw it.

That dress. The one you had never worn before because you kept telling yourself that the occasion wasn't 'special enough'

But it was perfect for this night. The gown is predominantly white, with a bit of shimmering silver that catches the light just right, adding an ethereal look to it. It has beading and sprakling embellishments that made you look straight out of a fairy tale.

You sighed as you saw yourself in the mirror. Was it too much? You asked yourself. But the excitement and adrenaline rushing through your veins was enough to pull those thoughts away from you. It fit your body deliciously, your curves looked amazing in it. It was like it had been made for you. And you knew it when you saw it at the thrift store, wondering how someone could let go of such a jewel.

You put your hair up in a tight bun, a few curls coming down your face and adorning it.

And the mask, of course. A white mask, simple as that. It was a perfect match for the dress.

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

As soon as you saw the place you couldn't help but let out a soft gasp. It had been so well decorated, the ambiance and the music making goosebumps go through your body. Your girlfriends were enamoured by the way you looked.

"Like a porcelain doll." One had said.

"Straight out of a painting." Another one of them complimented you. You weren't sure of how to thank them enough for hyping you up that way. Your cheeks turned red as well as the tip of your nose did, making all of them laugh as they found it really adorable.

When you walked through the door you could see people staring at you, which was no surprise as you wore a magnificent dress that complimented your figure. But it wasn't really helpful as your mind had been playing tricks against you, reminding you of uneventful nights that looked a little too much like this one. Making your stomach twirl, you weren't able to have more than a drink. Anxiety always creeping behind your back, making sure to have you walking on eggshells.

But as time passed and you laughed and danced, your body and brain relaxed as you decided to actually enjoy the night. To enjoy how gorgeous you felt.

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

You decided that it was time to catch a break, so you told your friends and off you went into the bathroom. Obviously, you had a hard time pulling the dress to do your business but the task was completed, and you got out of the tiny room with a wide smile on your face, mask still on.

A pair of eyes caught yours. It was a man; broad shoulders, wearing a white, ruffled shirt that made his biceps stand out. Black pants that complimented his legs and had you glaring at his crouch a few times. His hair was slicked back, curls almost coming in contact with his shoulders at the base of his neck. Some gray hairs standing out. His beard and moustache were the same, and his prominent nose had you staring at him up and down.

The best part was his coat: a dark blue tailcoat adorned with some embroidery and metallic accents, something you wouldn't see often.

But his eyes.. his brown, amber eyes. It reminded you of the coffee you always took every morning, the one you couldn't live with. And from that moment, you knew you didn't want to live without his eyes either.

You were paralyzed, almost against your will. He was looking at you, too, taking in your body, your dress, your hair.. your slightly parted lips.

He smiled slightly, gesturing with a hand to follow him.

You tried to follow after him as he nodded at you. But there was too many people qnd suddenly, you were trapped in between of the crowd, all of the couples dancing together, each in their own little bubble. A sigh came out of your throat, frustrated that you had lost him. You looked around trying to find him to no avail.

When you were about to leave and look somewhere else you felt a pair of hands softly land on your shoulder, making you turn around.

It was him.

"You lost me for a minute, darlin'." He whispered close to your ear and gave you a grin. His southern accent wasn't something you were willing to ignore.

"I did, yeah.. There's a lot of people here." You managed to answer and swallowed hard.

Suddenly, the music changed into a more romantic and slow one, making you snap out of that state of pure amusement you found yourself in.

"As The World Falls Down" by David Bowie could be heard in the background.

Oh, how you loved that song.

As a little girl you couldn't keep your eyes away from the man in the television playing "the goblin king", or turn away your attention from his thick british accent, or his honey dripping voice. You always fantasized about meeting a man like that, who would give you everything. But inside you knew that it was just a silly teenage dream that wasn't going to happen.

The mysterious man grabbed your hand, taking you somewhere less crowded and gently placed his hands around your waist.

"Will you dance with me?" He asked, his voice a deep tone.

"Y-Yeah.." You mumbled and wrapped your arms around his neck.

Your bodies swayed softly, your dress moving with grace as you tried to calm down your nerves and enjoy what was happening. He was wearing a blue cape around his shoulders and you couldn't help but brush your fingers softly against the velvety fabric.

"What's your name?" He asked, his grip on your waist was so gentle it made your heart flutter.

You told him your name and he repeated it. It sounded like the most precious name when it came out of his mouth.

"That's a beautiful name.." He mumbled and looked away, shyness seemed to have taken over him.

You chuckled and placed a hand on his cheek, the feel of his beard made your hand tingle.

"What's yours?" You asked in a sweet tone of voice.

"Joel."

Joel. It fitted him perfectly.

His eyes sparkled as the lights were illuminating them, making your knees feel weak when you looked into them.

He pulled you closer, breaths almost mixing. He smiled at the way your breath hitched.

"Come outside with me for a moment, yeah?" He asked and you nodded, taking his hand and going into the beautiful garden.

"Can I see you without your mask?" You asked, eager to see what he hid behind it.

"I don't mind takin' it off, sweetheart." He said and took it off with a smile. Your eyes widened and your pupils dilated at the sight.

He was even more handsome that you had imagined, wrinkles forming at the sides of his eyes when he smiled at you.

You took off your mask as well, feeling that it wasn't fair that only one of you had to take it off.

He approached you slowly, not making any sudden movement or touching you as he didn't want to make you uncomfortable.

"You are.. breathtaking, honey. Like a princess, straight out of a fairytale I might say." He whispered and gave you a wink, his knuckles softly brushing against your cheek. You could sense the heat going up to your neck and the apples of your cheeks, and he let out a soft chuckle that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Well.. I have to say the same about you, I–" Your words cut you short, as they weren't enough to describe him.

"You're so.. so handsome.. And captivating." You mumbled, trying to keep your composure and not give away the heat forming at your lower stomach of the way that your knees weakened.

Then your phone buzzed, startling you. It was one of your friends, wondering where you had gone to. When you explained breafly the situation in a short text, she smiled and told you to let her know if you felt uncomfortable or unsafe.

As you looked back at him, you noticed he had come closer. You gulped, your breathing shaking softly as you couldn't help but take a look at his plush lips.

You weren't much of a 'love at first sight' believer but faith had proven you different this time. You wanted to keep him in your life, even if that meant embarrassing yourself and asking for his phone number.

He approached you slowly, pinning you against the wall behind you. He placed a hand at the side of your head, on the wall behind you and tilted his own head a little, glaring at your lips occasionally.

Leaning closer, and closer, it felt torturous. You wanted him to kiss you right then and there, to stop taking his sweet time but you wouldn't ask for it.

He lifted your chin to look at him as he took in the way you looked, so flustered, cheeks tinted pink.

"Can I..?"

"Yes." You cut him off.

He chuckled and softly pressed his lips against yours, a gentle and tender kiss. You slowly brought your hands up to the back of his neck, playing with his curls in a gentle way as you kept with the pace of his kiss. But when he licked your bottom lip asking for permission, you parted your lips open and he started exploring your mouth.

You hummed at the feeling, bringing him closer and pressing your bodies together. Still, he was a gentleman, as he wasn't touching you anywhere you didn't want him to.

His hand went up to cup your cheek, his thumb caressing it ever so softly which made you feel like you were melting under his touch.

He pulled away and you breathed out in hot pants, feeling your stomach twirling and heat building up in your chest just because from that kiss.

When he looked at you, you couldn't help but look away for a minute. He tilted your chin to look back at him, which made your breath hitch.

With a low chuckle, he asked:

"What? Feeling shy now that I don't have my mask?"

You could your body tingle at the way his voice sounded. Deep enough to cause a warming sensation to your core.

As you tried to answer him, nothing but incoherent sentences and mumbling came out of your mouth, making yourself even more flustered.

He took that as a chance to lean in and place a soft kiss on the corner of your mouth.

Your eyes widened at the soft, gentle touch of his plush lips against your skin. His moustache tickling your upper lip.

"You are.. a tease."

You whispered and turned your head to peak his lips.

"Well.. can't help myself when I see such beauty in front of me, darlin'."

He winked at you and you could swear your knees were going to give up on you at any moment.

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

After letting your girlfriends know you were okay, you spent the rest of the night chatting with Joel. A deep connection was between the two of you, and you weren't the only one who noticed it; the way he sometimes couldn't keep up his flirty, tough man façade gave away the fact that he felt just like you. His eyes sparkling, the summer breeze brushing his hair with grace.

"I don't want this to end."

He suddenly confessed, taking your hand between his.

"I mean– I don't want this to be a one time thing. But if ya do, I won't be mad."

He spoke quietly, being the gentleman he was.

You shook your head slightly and a smile tugged at your lips.

"I don't want this to end either, Joel.."

You gave him a soft smile.

After spending some more time together, he pulled out his phone and handed it to you, where you made a contact with your number.

"I hope that date you've been talking about really happens."

You said, before saying your goodbyes.

"You have my word."

He spoke and your smile became wider, as you leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

"Goodnight, Joel."

You whispered with a smile and gave his hand a soft caress before turning to walk away, and enter the party again. It was like you were stuck together by glue, a strong force that begged you not to leave. If you could, you would've spent the rest of the night with him. But it was a night with your friends after all.

"Bye, sweetheart."

He mumbled before letting you go. A sense of sadness dawned on him, pressuring on his chest. His own friends quickly came after him and he smiled like nothing had happened, like something inside of him wasn't longing to be with you again. But he had to be patient, he knew that.

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

Back home as you laid comfortably in bed after taking off your makeup and dress, a ding was heard, coming from your phone.

You grabbed it and immediately knew who it was, even if you didn't have his number saved.

"Hey, darlin'. You awake?"

The text read. And you couldn't help but let out a squeal into your pillow, the biggest smile adorning your face beautifully.

"So, when's that date you were talking about?"

#tlou joel #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #fanfic #oneshot #pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller x female reader #the last of us au #joel miller au #my fic #Spotify

[luminouslywriting]

Band of brothers headcannon ,somehow somebody told them u were cheating on them and they get super angry or depressed but then they discover it's not true, in a way or another.

An angsty request? Nonny, I'm not sure if you know this, but I live in angst and pain and prefer writing this sort of stuff haha! So keep sending in the angsty headcanon requests, because I'm SO down! Requests are open!

Cut for length, light spice in some, angst under the cut, picking on Webster at least once for no reason haha:

Dick Winters:

-It's not necessarily that someone told him that you were cheating as much as it was implied through subtext and he does NOT deal well with that at all.

-But he's not super vocal about it??? Like, he's the type of man who would rather just talk to you about things than let rumors lie in wait and spiral.

-It doesn't stop him from worrying about if he's done something wrong to push you away until you're able to finally talk.

-And when you do talk, there's this massive relief that you were just getting another job and talking with a superior about it—nothing malicious or mean of the sort.

-Please just reassure this man that he's the love of your life. He's a fairly secure man, but this was rough emotionally and he never accused you of anything but that doesn't mean that he wasn't worried for a second there.

-It definitely becomes a laughing point in your relationship later on.

Lewis Nixon:

-Listen, this man has NOT had good luck when it comes to women or relationships in his lifetime. So when you're a little busier than normal and out longer than normal, he can't help but spiral.

-He takes these fears to some of his friends (not Winters though, because that man would tell him to screw his head on straight haha), and they somehow get it in his head that you're cheating on him

-Cue the downward spiral of drinking and being depresso-expresso yet again

-So when you come home and you've been working extra hours to get a surprise for him—because all you wanted to do was afford a dog on your own wages rather than Lew's money—and he's all emotional and upset—it's a rough situation

-Arguments are had and feelings are hurt. So when he sobers up and realizes that you were just trying to do something sweet for him, he's hurrying to apologize in a big grand romantic gesture sort of a way.

-Moral of the story? Don't surprise him, he'll assume something else is going on or start some sort of conspiracy theory about it haha

Ronald Speirs:

-Someone starts the rumors maliciously because they had a crush/feelings for you and it gets around pretty quickly....and the thing about the entire situation is that he's unfazed? -Like this is the man who people-watches and reads people really well. He's fairly certain that he'd know if you were cheating on him lol.

-That being said, when the rumors finally make their way over to YOU, you shut them down and go to talk to him.

-He's really patient and sweet about the entire thing—because of course he knows you weren't cheating on him, but you're apologizing because of the rumors and he's just wanting to be there for you because that's a rough reputation to have going around tbh.

-Speirs is so secure in the relationship and the way that you feel about him. If not for the declaration of love, then certainly for the way that you are screaming his name later that evening lol.

-Also definitely finds the root of the rumor and uses intimidation to make them back off—no more problems like that for you two ever again.

Buck Compton:

-He's shocked and baffled as to what he's hearing and he's going through everything in his mind trying to figure out where he went wrong. Has he upset you? Were you two not close? What happened anyway?

-He gets real quiet about things when he sees you next because he's trying to figure out how to express what he's feeling.

-And there's definitely some distance on his part and so when he finally comes to you and just asks about the entire thing, YOU'RE just as baffled as he is.

-So reassure him, give him cuddles, attention, verbal affirmation that he's the only man for you, and he'll be secure in no time at all

-But also, realize that it's now going to be a lingering fear of his that you'll leave him for someone else. So be on watch and on guard for any feelings like that re-emerging over time.

-Communication and showing love is going to be big in patching things up.

Carwood Lipton:

-Heart shattered and in disbelief the minute that he sees you hugging another man that he does not recognize.

-He doesn't necessarily want to confront you and have a nasty argument about it, but his jealousy is certainly spiking quite a bit. This leads to him pulling away from the relationship.

-And then the minute that you introduce him to your cousin who has been fighting down in the Pacific for the past few years?? It all clicks into place and he suddenly feels very silly.

-Shamefully admits this to you later when it's just you two alone. And he feels really bad that he even doubted your feelings and intentions.

-But tell him that he's the one, demand that he give you a family—all will be solved by morning haha

-It becomes a running joke in your family for years to come.

Joseph Liebgott:

-JEALOUS JEALOUS JEALOUS—he knows that you have lots of guy friends and that you get along well with HIS friends. But let's be honest, it's probably Webster who suggests that maybe you're a little TOO close to some of his friends.

-And so the ugly side of his jealousy rears it's head and he's getting all possessive and kind of controlling in some ways

-Confronting him is going to be the simplest and easiest route to handle this entire situation

-It's going to be a few arguments later that he realizes that he's really messed up by accusing you of sleeping with one of his friends. But he does come to you and genuinely apologize for his words.

-Yes, this is something you and said friend are going to hold over his head for the rest of your relationship lol.

-And yes, Webster may have gotten punched by you for planting the idea in sweet Joe's head.

Donald Malarkey:

-Listen, this man pays no mind to rumors. But when the rumors involve you and another man? He tends to pay attention. He doesn't believe what he's hearing at all.

-Definitely runs to talk to you immediately about the rumors and isn't sure what to make of your reaction—shocked, of course.

-Your reassurances calm him down and a cuddle session immediately will help him feel much better

-He's definitely going to bring you flowers the next time that he sees you out of guilt lol

-Tries to be more confident in the relationship after that because you promised him that he's the only man for you

-Also attempts to quell rumors with his friends because he's fiercely defensive over you and your honor.

Eugene Roe:

-Soft man here is in love with you to the point of self-destruction, okay?? So when he comes to see you in the medic tent and finds another man kissing you, he's immediately hurt and heart is shattered.

-What he doesn't know is that that was a patient who just kissed you and you had to literally slap the man to get him off of you. So Gene here is in his feels and upset about things.

-When you come to see him and he doesn't really want to talk, you're so confused and he gets really emotional about the entire thing. It's a whole messy argument of you trying to explain what happened.

-And then of course after he's had some time to process the entire thing, he feels just awful for not listening to you or understanding the situation

-He comes to you with a really sincere and soft apology, possibly some chocolate in hand to help his case, and tells you how much you mean to him

-Is it the first time he admits that he loves you? Absolutely. And this certainly leads to the best makeout session of your life haha.

Bill Guarnere:

-Throws hands the minute that someone tells him you're cheating on him. He doesn't believe the rumors for one freakin' minute.

-So when you have to patch him up after some injuries and you're demanding to know why and he angrily explains that it's about you, it's a whole mess.

-You're sitting there trying to explain that you would NEVER, and he KNOWS that so he's just mad that someone would spread the rumors anyway

-This just leads to the two of you being more annoying with PDA haha

-And having a really noisy session of sex where you're both just being so vocal about your love for one another

-Yes, everyone knows that this just strengthened your relationship.

Joe Toye:

-He hears it around the guys in the base—the thing is?? It's an old rumor about some guy that you had kissed BEFORE you were with Joe.

-He gets real quiet and sullen about the entire thing, almost a pouty behavior that leaves you with your head spinning because where is all of THIS behavior coming from??

-It takes a few days of this behavior before he's ready to talk about it and then you're attempting to explain that it's an old flame and that your feelings are solely for Joe now

-In fact, seducing him might just be the move because then he's super smug about the entire thing.

-He might even go and talk to the ex to see if HE has any feelings for you left. And yes, some intimidation might be in order to get him to leave the rumors alone because you and Joe are together now.

-You warn him not to act all pouty like that again though—it was NOT it for you two haha

George Luz:

-Bamboozled, shocked, dismayed, all five stages of grief—but mostly in disbelief

-He's immediately going to shade the hell out of whoever was spreading the rumor even BEFORE he goes to talk to you about the entire thing

-Super down on himself and joking about how he's messed up the entire relationship because clearly you're cheating—and GIRL, you better shut that down NOW

-Please just give him a grand gesture of love yourself and shade him a little bit for even thinking like that??

-Honestly, if you say you're down for marriage, problem solved and this man will never bring it up again—except for maybe in the speeches at the wedding lol

-Is convinced you're even more beautiful when you're shading him for being stupid and believing rumors haha

#band of brothers #band of brothers imagines #band of brothers headcanons #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers asks #dick winters #dick winters headcanons #dick winters imagines #dick winters x reader #lewis nixon #lewis nixon imagines #lewis nixon headcanons #lewis nixon x reader #ronald speirs x reader #ronald speirs #ron speirs #buck compton x reader #buck compton #carwood lipton x reader #carwood lipton #joseph liebgott #joe liebgott #donald malarkey #eugene roe #easy company #bill guarnere #joe toye #george luz

[so-much-for-the-seashells]

I Was Made For Lovin’ You

Colt Seavers (The Fall Guy 2024) x Reader

This is the third part of a three part series!

Part One: Coffees, Plural

Part Two: It’s A Love Story…

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the characters except for the reader insert!

Author’s Notes: This set has been a lot of fun to write! I think my pacing got a little off towards the end of Part 2, but oh well! As always, if you enjoy, please consider leaving a comment! I’d love to read your feedback!

Content/Content Warning: Minors do NOT interact!! You’re better off!

This chapter is SPIIIICY. Very. Very. Spicy. And it’s long. What more could you want, right? But seriously, if you don’t like spice, the story’s over after pt 2! like this is pure spice 😭

Anyway, thanks for reading along!

Reader’s POV

I couldn’t ask for anything more, anything more at all. Because in the words of his favorite song, this is a Love Story and baby, I will always say yes.

Somehow we made it back to the set from the bar. The ride was tense as his hand squeezed my thigh the entire time, while his own leg bounced with ADHD.

The kisses outside of his truck had went from giggly to steamy really fast- before I knew it he was on my neck, my earlobe, my jaw, anywhere he could find. And the hottest part? He kept asking if what he was doing was alright until finally I smashed his mouth to mine, telling him through the passion that everything he was doing was in fact alright.

And good grief. If he told me to jump into a volcano with his lips by my ear I’d do it.

Without a second thought.

Suddenly I’m struggling to unlock the door to my trailer because I have a six foot man pressed all up on me, kissing the shell of my ear, hands on my waist.

And to be honest, part of me wants to let him take me right then and there.

But the rational, sane part of me knows much better and somehow, by some stroke of luck gets that damn door open only for him to push me right through it with a deep, heavy kiss.

He tastes like chocolate, his kisses rich just like the sweet. I’m barely in my right mind enough to close the door to the trailer, but I don’t have to because he picks me up and holds my back against that door. My hand covers my mouth, a frail attempt to cover the breaths and whines that want to break free of my lust filled self as his mouth gets lower and lower, reaching the tops of my breasts in the damn jumper.

“Please let me hear you, y/n,” Colt asks. His voice is a breathy wreck. I don’t move my hand, but he brings his up to mind, covering it.

“Please, y/n,” his blue eyes are electric, filled with longing as they bore holes into mine. I nod, ever do slightly, letting him take my hand into his, reveling in the strength of his perfectly callused hand.

“Listen,” he says as he kisses up my neck. “If we’re going to do this, I need to know what you like.” His voice is more gravelly than usual, a product of lust.

And I know that I need to say something, but he’s so all consuming. His perfect body over mine, his lips clouding my senses. My brain is short circuiting, with lust and love, and the only answer I can give him is a soft whimper when he starts nipping at the conjunction of my neck and shoulder.

“C’mon, sugar,” he prods, murmuring as he briefly removes his lips before going upward towards my earlobe. Sugar? For fucks sake. I’m not going to make it.

“Y-your voice,” I tell him as I start running my free hand through his fluffy, fluffy hair.

“Oh yeah? My voice? You want me to talk you through it?” he asks, turning on his straight-up seductive voice.

“Yes,” I breath. My voice is high and whiny, and I’d be so embarrassed if I wasn’t with him.

But I am with him, and suddenly the little sounds aren’t so embarrassing. Suddenly, everything’s a little too hot.

“Bed?” I suggest through a moan as kisses along my jaw whilst simultaneously cupping my breast.

***

Colt’s POV

I’ve been drugged before. Saw unicorns and all kinds of weird shit. But nothing matches the level of intoxication I feel right now. She’s stronger than any drug, my senses- what I feel, what I see, what I’m touching… it’s all y/n.

So when she asks to go to the bed, I am there faster than a heartbeat. I lower her down as slowly as I can, kissing her for all I’m worth. I shrug off my button down, letting it fall to the floor. Her nails scratch at my biceps, and I can’t help but let out a heavy breath. I kiss from her earlobe down to just between the tops of her breasts. She’s so perfect. God, she’s so perfect.

“Y/n?”

“Yeah?” her voice is so breathy, it’s going straight to my, er, yeah. I did that to her. Shit.

“Can I take this off?” I ask, meeting her eyes, tugging at the romper she hated so much.

She takes a deep breath before answering. “Yes.”

“You sure?” I don’t want her to be uncomfortable. The last thing I want is for her to be uncomfortable, she deserves the best.

“Yes, Colt. I trust you, you have me,” she tells me.

And if that doesn’t set me off.

“Okay,” my voice is shaky. But she likes it, so I force myself to keep it together.

I tug at the top of her romper, kissing newly exposed skin as I do so.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” I tell her, a rhetorical question.

“So, so fucking perfect,” the words are just falling from my lips at this point as I finish tugging down the garment, leaving her only in her underwear and her sandals.

“Colt?” I never want to hear my name called by anyone else ever again. Ever. Again.

“Yeah?”

“Can you uh, take off your shirt? I feel underdressed.”

Before she can even finish her statement I’ve literally ripped the tank top off. What a dipshit, I want to facepalm so badly. But now she’s giggling, and I can’t help but laugh with her. She’s so cute.

“Sorry, I’m a little over eager,” I laugh, kissing her on her perfect, plush lips once more.

“You don’t say,” she laughs as I duck my head to kiss her breasts. Shit. She’s perfect everywhere. I cup one of her tits in one hand, the other I surrender to my mouth, eliciting all kinds of perfect noises out of her.

“That’s my girl,” I tell her. “You sound so pretty for me.”

I keep kneading and sucking on her perfect, pillowy breasts until she’s completely wriggling under me. Good. “You’re beautiful,” I say, as I start traveling southward. “So, so beautiful.”

***

Reader’s POV

It’s so much. He’s just ripped off his shirt like he was in a Tom Ryder movie, and yet, he is actually, truly, ardently, beyond better than the movies.

His physique… it’s to die for. Sun-kissed skin meets taut muscles, and and biceps bigger than my head. Not to mention that happy trail, and the blatant bulge in his pants.

It’s come to the point that I truly can hardly think. His voice is an aphrodisiac, taunting me, forcing slick to pool in the only article of clothing he has yet to tug off. His eyes, his big, vivid, electric eyes have either been locked on me or in mine. His mouth works wonders, I fear that at this point whatever he suggests, whatever he wants, I will comply without a second thought.

And now that his kisses are trailing down the slope of my body, from the valley between my breasts and down over my stomach, stopping on my pelvic bone… quite frankly I could be finished right now.

And yet, he makes eye contact again, looking down at my underwear clad core and back to me.

Oh. He wants to-

“Colt…” I start.

“Yes?” he’s lifted his face, looking me dead in the eyes.

“You don’t have to… it’s been a while, I-“

“Y/n,” he says. “If you don’t want me to, I won’t. But if you do, I promise you I’m going to make it so good for you, and you’re gonna think of it every time you look at me.” And his words are so fucking honest, so sincere. I know he means it.

So my answer’s easy. “I trust you, Colt Seavers.” He smiles, and I can’t help but smile back before he drags my legs so they’re dangling off of the bed, my core right on the edge.

He stands at full height, looking down at me, and what a sight. His hair is a mess, because of me, but it’s so fluffy and gorgeous. His lips are swollen and pink. His eyes are brighter than ever, his beard… oh shit. His beard is going to feel so good-

“I’m gonna take these off,” he tells me, as he reaches for one of my legs, tilting it up so he can slowly, deductively take of my sandal as he massages my calf. I’m quivering, literally quivering from how attractive I find this to be. He then removes the other shoe, before sinking down to his knees. And if he’s a sight at full height, on his knees…

And suddenly I can’t think, because he’s kissing up my leg. “Easy there, pretty girl. Relax,” he tells me, his voice soothing. His beard is scratchy in all the right ways, soft like his hair. But just before he reaches my core, he bites the inside of my thigh, gleaning a loud gasp out of me, before stopping all together and doing the same thing to my other leg, taking his sweet time. And the worst part is that he’d maintaining eye contact this entire time, searching through my soul.

I’m soaked. I’m going to have to throw these underwear away, because his every move is just getting me hotter.

Finally, finally, finally, he bites the inside of my other thigh, and inhales by my core. “Oh sugar, you’re soaked.” His eyes are blown out, darkened by lust.

“All for you,” I barely manage to say, before he’s slowly pulling off my underwear, and then getting between my thighs again.

“All f’me?” his words are slurred as his nose is level with my cunt.

“Mmm,” I respond.

“You ready, pretty girl?”

Pretty girl. Sugar. He’s going to kill me.

“Y-yes,” and just as soon as the word’s left my lips has he dove into my core.

Colt’s POV

Shes intoxicating. Tastes like strawberries, sounds too sweet, looks like heaven… I’m so far gone.

I’m eating her out like there’s no tomorrow, holding her down while she tries to squirm. Emphasis on tries because it only takes one hand to keep her down. Finally her hands rest in my hair, tugging as she moans. It’s either my name, and again, I never want to hear my name from anyone else ever again, or “oh my god oh my god,” which is just as hot. I start off easy, with just my tongue, testing the waters, and she can’t get enough. I lick strips before finally just going for it, straight into her pussy and nothing has ever felt so right.

“More, more,” she starts saying eventually, so I add a finger, thrusting in. “Faster, harder,” she says, and who am I to deny her? Eventually I’m just sucking on her clit while pumping not one, not two but three fingers into her tight little cunt, hard enough that her body is going forward and back with each thrust. Her hands in my hair are tight, making me grunt or moan into her core while my hand is keeping her down.

“Colt, Colt, Colt,” she cries, trying to push my head away with her hands as her peak nears.

I grabs her hand, holding it to my head, squeezing it as I trace circles on her clit before finally-

She lets go with a broken moan of my name. I do my best to take everything she can give and then some, bringing her to the precipice of a second release.

“Colt, Colt, it’s too much,” she gasps. But something in those fucked out eyes is urging me to bring her over, just one more time.

So I do, and she comes with a weak cry of my name, smaller this time but just as powerful.

***

Reader’s POV

It’s too much. But it’s also not enough. The way he’s listening to anything I say, and then brings me to not one but two orgasms in what? A half hour? He was right. I will never be able to look at him without thinking about that.

His head rests between my thighs, even after the second release. He looks up at me with a mischievous smile as he caresses one of them with his big hand. “Was it good, sugar?” He asks, kissing the inside of my thigh, making me tighten my grip in his hair. I don’t fail to notice the little breath that escapes him when I tug his roots.

“Yes,” I breathe, still trying to recover.

He climbs up onto the bed, laying down next to me. There’s drops of release on his chin, and yet he doesn’t even bother wiping them off. Slut. Hot slut. Very hot slut. Very hot slut who’s very good at eating me out.

“You alright? Did I push you too hard?” He tilts my face towards his with his hand, lightly cupping my cheek.

“No, no, you were perfect. So fucking perfect,” I tell him, finally starting to regain my bearings. There’s a severe ache between my thighs, and I don’t know if it’s from the double dose of pleasure or from a want for more.

He smiles again. “Alright, let me go get you a towel.”

It’s when he starts to get up that I notice the strain in his pants, the small wet spot. How has he kept those on this whole time?

“Colt, wait, what about you-?” I ask frantically.

“We don’t have to y/n, you’re tired,” he says sweetly, a look of pure concentration on his face.

“No, Colt. I want it. I want it, so bad,” I say, my voice getting whinier as I talk.

“Are you sure?” his eyes are on me, boring into my soul once again.

I grab his face and pull him into mine, tasting my release on his tongue but not caring because I need him to know. To know that I want this.

I think he catches on, because once he pulls away, waiting a moment for the strand of spit that’s connecting us to break, he stands up, looking at me with pure lust.

He reaches into his pockets, probably looking for a condom. “Dipshit!” he curses. “I uh,” he shakes his head. He doesn’t have one.

“We don’t need one,” I tell him. “I’m clean, I have morning after.”

“I’m clean too- you sure?”

“Colt Seavers, I want you to fuck me so good that I can’t walk tomorrow, that I can’t sit because I’m still going to be able to feel you dripping out of me,” I tell him, my voice firm. He moans, really moans, which is maybe the hottest thing I’ve ever heard in my entire life.

“Alright, alright,” he says setting me on the bed so my legs aren’t falling off anymore. “Alright,” he breathes as he sets a pillow under my hips.

“Okay,” he says, taking off his shoes and then his pants.

“Okay,” I whisper as he stands before me in his naked glory, the only thing on his body his golden pendant.

He fists himself, rubbing up and down a few times, and good grief. He is radiant, like some sort of rugged Greek god. I’m sure my jaw has visibly dropped, but next time, his hand is going to be my hand(s).

Finally, finally, after excruciatingly long moments he’s gingerly climbing over me. He presses a soft, sweet kiss to my lips, and then goes to say something.

“Colt, if you’re going to ask if I’m sure, I am. Alright?”

“Alright,” he breathes, before lining up with my entrance.

He starts pushing in. He’s massive, and even the tip has me gasping.

“C’mon, pretty girl,” his words are slurred. “Just gotta relax for me, alright. You can do it.”

And just because he says I can do it, I can do it, and finally he’s bottomed out, fully inside me. Either the pillow under my lips he’s hit any sensitive spot possible, and my mouth is stuck in an “o.”

“Colt,” I say after a few moments, my voice once again high and breathy. “Can you move?”

***

Colt’s POV

“Yeah, sugar, I can move,” I tell her. I start to pull back and in with shallow, soft thrusts. “You’re so tight,” I groan. She clenches around me, and it’s all I can do not to bust right then and there.

“You’re doing so good, pretty girl,” I say, kissing her slowly. She’s tense, but the kiss seems to have loosened her up a bit. “You’re okay.”

She threads her fingers in my hair, entangled in the roots. I’ve got my hands planted on either side of her head, and her eyes between them have me captivated.

Finally we have a smooth rhythm. Her lips are parted in a perfect o, and we’re both gasping and panting. But eventually, she hooks her calf around my thigh and tells me “I said I wanted you to fuck me.”

“Alright, honey, but if it’s too much you’ve got to tell me, okay?”

“Okay,” she breathes.

***

Reader’s POV

He pulls all the way out, getting a whimper out of me to which he tuts at, before slamming back in and setting a fast, hard pace. The sounds of skin slapping skin are pornographic, and they’re making my brain fuzzy. My breath is hitched in my throat from how good it feels, I couldn’t say anything if I tried. Which is fine, because he has all the words for the both of us.

“Yeah, there you go, pretty girl. That good enough for you?” A rhetorical question. He knows it’s good.

“You like this? Like me fucking you into next year?” All he gets is a gasp of his name in response.

“Aww, poor baby, can barely think straight,” he punctuates his words with particularly deep thrusts. “Thats alright, cause I’ll take care of you.” His leans his head down to bite my collar bone, trying to leave marks.

I feel myself start to tighten even more around him, and he grunts.

“You gonna come?” he asks, near my ear.

“Y-yes,” I whine.

“Good girl,” he says, before reaching a hand between us to rut on my clit.

“C-Colt- it’s too much-“

“You’re just sensitive, sweetheart,” he says, applying more pressure. And finally, before I know it I’ve released with a shout of his name, and he’s holding me close, still thrusting lazily.

“I, uh, I’m going to-“ he starts.

“In me, Colt, in me!” desperation clouds my voice. I want him to fill me.

“I-uh, oh, he says, picking up the pace again until it’s just brutal, pounding into me until finally he stills, and I can feel him coming inside of me with a weak cry of my name. God, that’s hot.

“How do you feel?” he asks, his forehead on mine, kissing my nose.

“Full.”

His face scrunches up like he’s in pain. “God, you can’t just say that.”

I smile. “Pshh. But seriously I don’t think I’m going to be able to walk tomorrow.”

“Call in sick. I’ll call in sick with you,” he suggests. “We can watch our movies, and maybe have some more fun..?”

“I’d love nothing more. Also, Jody knew what she was doing when she made you sing that song.”

“No shit,” he laughed. “I was made for lovin’ you, baby.”

I shove his chest. “Cheesy!”

***

Bonus: the next morning:

I wake up wondering why my blankets are so heavy, until I feel light breathing in my ear.

He slept on me. He literally slept on top of me. I would laugh, but I can hardly breath.

“Colt,” I whisper. “Colt!”

“Heyy,” he says groggily.

“Can you move a little please?”

“Yeah, sorry,” he replies, kissing my ear.

“It’s okay, you’re a very nice weighted blanket,” I tell him. He laughs, leaning in to kiss me before I hear a buzz. Stupid phone.

“Don’t check it, stay here,” he urges, wrapping his arms around me.

“Clingy,” I chuckle. “I still need to call in sick though.”

“Fiiiine.”

I reach around for my phone, thankfully I somehow managed to get it to the nightstand. The buzz was a text from Jody.

“You finally banged him! Congrats! No need to come into work today, Sheila said she’d cover you. Proud of you, babe. X”

I start giggling hysterically. He reads it over my shoulder, and laughs with me. “She always knows,” he says.

“Yeah,” I laugh, setting my phone back on the nightstand and turning back to him and his messy hair. “She always knows.” I lean into kiss him, and he kissed back, softly and sweet.

I think I might actually be the luckiest woman in the world.

***

The End. 😘

#colt seavers #colt seavers x reader #fanfic #colt seavers x you #ryan gosling #ryan gosling x reader #the fall guy 2024 #colt seavers smut

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ LMLY ♡

♡ Pairing: boyfriend!jackson wang x songwriter!chubby!fem!reader

♡ Genre: fluff/smut

♡ Summary: On the evening before one of your boyfriend's parties you confess to him that you've been doubting yourself lately and he has his heart set on easing your mind.

♡ Word Count: 1.7k-ish

♡ Warnings: oral sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering, pet names (baby) & that's about all, bbys

♡ A/N: This is my first Jackson Wang request which I'm really happy about because no one ever really requests/write for him (like, y'all, this man's a certified baddie. let's get it together). Thank you @writhingwrecked for putting this request in. I hope you get the comfort you needed from it!

People usually have one of two ideas about who your boyfriend is. They either categorize him as this dark, brooding artist who’s trapped in the spiral of an existential crisis or some frat boy who spends all of his time partying and drinking. If they took the time they’d see what a sweetheart he is, especially when it comes to you.

Seated opposite you on the couch of his penthouse—one of many he has tucked away in different countries—he keeps your feet balanced in his lap, laser focused on painting your toenails your favorite color. Nothing could possibly be cuter than Jackson is with his hair pulled back into the two tiny space buns you put them in earlier, tongue peeking out from between his lips as he applies the final touches to your nails. 

Tonight Jackson’s having one of his infamous parties, this one on a scenic beach in Thailand. It’ll be the first you’ve attended since joining his songwriting team and your first since the two of you began dating. Anyone who’s anyone will be there and you’re determined to look perfect for it. So, needless to say, you sent yourself into a panic when the nail tech canceled on you last minute.

But it was Jackson to the rescue as always, quieting your fears and insisting that you let him take care of you. That’s the Jackson you know. The one who’ll do anything to keep his girl happy. It gives you butterflies watching him be this patient and attentive with you. It makes your heart race a little faster just feeling his fingers brush your skin as he tilts your foot to inspect his handiwork. 

“That tickles!” you giggle, toes wiggling as he tries to keep you still. 

“Hey, stop that! You’re gonna mess it up” he whines, tickling the arch of your foot on purpose this time. 

You twist away from him, jumping up from the couch to go finish your makeup. There’s two hours until you need to head out for the party and the two of you are still lounging around in your towels. It’s about time you pick up the pace anyway. 

“I don’t have time for this. Some of us have to get ready.” 

Catching you by the arm, he carefully pulls you down onto his lap, peppering kisses all over your face. You resist at first but quickly give up the act, relaxing into his arms to soak up the love he so openly pours into you. “Jackson, I’ll never get dressed if you keep this up.”

Running a hand down to your thigh, he gently rubs it, taking in the beauty of your figure as he does so. “Who says I want you to get dressed?” he asks, the sexy rasp of his voice tickling your cheek. You let out an almost weightless moan at the sensation of his lips skimming your jawline. You rest your hands on his bare chest, feeling it rise and fall with each breath, lean muscles flexing beneath your touch.  “Aah, baby, we don’t, mmm, have time for this right now. If I don’t look perfect for this—” 

Jackson tilts his head up, gazing into your eyes, “Don’t say that, you always look perfect.” 

“To you because you love me but…” you sigh, shoulders dropping under the weight of self doubt, “Jackson, I have to look good so at least it seems like I’ve done something to deserve to be there with all those talented people. With you”. 

Jackson sits back on the couch, his brow scrunching at a statement he couldn’t disagree with more. “What are you talking about? You are ‘talented people’. The songs you helped me write are beautiful”. 

“What if no one else thinks so? What if the album drops and everyone hates them? What if…I’m just not good enough?”

“Baby, look at me” he begs, scooping your cheeks into his hands, “You are more than good enough. Don’t you ever question that. You’re here with me because you’re the best of the fucking best, because…”

He clears his throat, choking back the sentimental side of him that has him wanting to tear up. You see it anyway, the moisture across his irises that make them shimmer like raindrops catching sunlight. 

“I doubt myself too,” he confesses, ���I fear the future, worry if what I’m doing is enough, but as long as I have an amazing woman who loves me like you do I know it must be.” 

“Why are you trying to make me cry?” you pout, sniffling back tears of your own. 

“No, it’s not that, baby. I just want you to know how special you are and that we’re in this together. You belong here.”

His lips meet yours in a quick, sweet kiss. “You belong anywhere you want to be.” The next kiss lasts longer, your lips parting to welcome his. “And I will literally fight anyone who makes you feel any different.”

You giggle but Jackson doesn’t. He’s a softie but he’s cutthroat when it comes to protecting you. 

“You’re so cute when you’re serious.”

“Hmm? Just cute?” he asks, kissing you with everything he has.

Wrapping his arms around your waist, he lifts you from the couch, his tongue refusing to leave the fluffy warmth of your cheeks. You shake your head, shivering as the air from the open window blows gently against your now exposed core. “More than cute. Really, really fucking hot.” 

Jackson lays you back on the couch, spreading your legs to slip in between them. “Now who’s being the cute one?” he teases, draping one of your legs over the back of the couch. His right hand moves between the two of you, tracing all the finer details of your pussy. Your slick folds, so soft against his fingertips. Your stiffening clit, twitching as he circles it. Your dripping entrance that clenches at his presence, growing wetter the deeper he kisses you.

“Mmm, I think she wants some attention, baby” he coos, fingers pushing into you, “Can I taste her?” 

Your head falls back against the arm of the couch, eyes fluttering closed as he works his fingers deep into your core. “Yes, please” you moan, nails faintly scraping his shoulders as he ventures down your body. Pushing your towel away, he takes his time massaging your plush figure, praising your form, soothing your worries.

When his head dips between your legs, he kisses your soft inner thigh until his breath’s warming your core. Jackson’s eyes flick up to you, watching all the pretty faces you make as he teases the ridges of your walls. “Oh my god!” you cry, hips lifting from the cushion as he purses his lips around your clit, suckling at the bud with the perfect amount of pressure.

Jackson locks an arm over your waist, gripping your belly as he pins you back down. “Don’t run from me, baby. How am I gonna make you feel good if you can’t keep still?” 

You grab onto the cushion beneath you, pleading with your body to cooperate but she writhes and arches against his hold, simply refusing to listen. Your walls clamp around his fingers, threatening to push them out, but Jackson only sinks them in deeper, your wetness audible as his soaked wrist comes flush against your slit.

“Jackson…” you moan, glancing between your legs to find his face almost completely buried in your pussy. "Hmm?” he hums, staring back at you with those puppy dog eyes you always melt for. Slipping his fingers out, he drives his tongue into you, slurping your juices down, grateful to taste more of you. 

All you’ve done leading up to tonight is live in your head—stressing, worrying, doubting yourself. The pressure of it all was unbearable but gradually it lifts. With every curve of Jackson’s tongue, a sense of euphoria flows through your body, washing away anything that makes you question the woman that you are.

Jackson needs you, can’t get enough of you. Your body. Your spirit. Your mind. This is what you deserve, to lay back and be pleasured, juices flowing down his throat with not a single thing for you to worry yourself about. Nothing except the pulsing in your core, the pressure building inside of you gradually, letting you bask in each level of intensity before being pushed to another.

“Jackson, mmm, close” you moan and Jackson lets go of your belly, reaching up to hold your hand. Your stomach muscles contract at the return of his fingers. There’s more this time, you aren’t even sure how many, but they’re stretching you so wonderfully, hitting your sweet spot every single time.

“Go ahead, baby. Come for me. Let it all go” Jackson coos, dragging his tongue up your clit. 

Seeing the love in his eyes, the passion, how badly he wants to please you, sends you crashing over the edge. You hold onto his hand, fingers interlaced with his, and ride out your high, letting your body move as it wishes. Jackson keeps dipping his fingers in and out of you, tongue flicking your clit, until you’ve come back down.

“You feel better, baby?” he asks, resting his head on a thigh more comfy than any pillow.

“Mmhmm” you answer between shallow breaths, “I feel wonderful.”

Jackson smiles, leaving a wet kiss on your other thigh, “We don’t have to go tonight, you know? Not if you don’t want to.”

“Actually, I…I wanna go.”

“Oh? Really?” he asks, equal parts shocked and curious about your newfound excitement for tonight. You sit up to pet his cheek, guiding him on top of you. You feel so safe under the weight of him, comforted by the arms now caging you into your little dip in the couch. 

“You believe in me so much, Jackson.” 

“I do.” 

“So, I guess it can’t hurt for me to try to believe in myself a little.” 

Jackson kisses you on the forehead, the nose, the lips. “And never fear the future. Whatever happens, I've got your back. I’ll do anything for you, you know that?" He shifts between your legs and you feel the head of his cock brush your clit. You bring him in for another kiss, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Ya know, I might not wanna skip the party but it’s okay if we’re a little late, isn’t it?”

“Anything” he whispers, hips rocking against you, “For you.”

#jackson wang x reader #jackson wang fluff #jackson wang smut #jackson wang fanfic #got7 x reader #got7 fluff #got7 smut #chubby reader #plus size reader

[chevelleneech]

While I do not mind BuckTommy, I wish their shippers and anyone more partial to them than Buddie, would stop lying about what their relationship is.

Tommy does not prioritize Buck, he simply revolves around Buck. It is the whole reason why them having zero development this season was so stupid, because it left way too much room for fans to make their own decisions on what the relationship is or isn’t, and claim it as canon. It’s why people are already saying they’ll be mad of BT break up, because Tommy is Buck’s healthiest partner, when he’s not.

Tommy is not a character who has a storyline, let alone one who makes decisions that impact the overall story. Everything he does is a result of what the writers need Buck to feel or where they need Buck to be, and that does not make him a healthy partner. They just haven’t written any conflict for them, good or bad.

Thus far, their biggest issue was Buck stumbling through his first date with a man, where Tommy did in fact mock his nervousness then leave him standing in the curb alone. Now, I’m not hung up on that, because I can see why it happened. Buck was extremely nervous and being awkward and likely made Tommy feel bad a little bit, but at the same time, it was wrong of him and he didn’t apologize. And since snippy remarks is all we really know of Tommy, it does become canon that he isn’t actually that nice to Buck. No matter what Bobby said, because as I said before, I strongly disagree with the writers writing in their own cop-out as an excuse for failing to develop Tommy or BT during the season. So yes, Tommy is attracted to Buck and doesn’t treat him like shit, but none of Buck’s exes ever did either. Pretending otherwise is y’all trying to rewrite the show to uplift your ship.

All that to say, Buck and Tommy dating is canon, yes, but them choosing each other or making sacrifices for their relationship, is not. We have been shown quite literally nothing. Everything BT shippers claim for BT, does not actually exist in canon. Not a single bit about love, lust, infatuation, commitment, relationship goals. Nothing, and I wish more “on the fence” fans pointed that out instead of piggy backing as if it’s true. Y’all are hopeful, and that’s fine, I am too. I want Buck to be happy, but I also don't want to give Tim and co praise for doing less than bare minimum.

Buck coming out overshadowed the entire season this year in terms of press and social engagement, but the amount of story and screen time he got in comparison is abysmal. By lying about canon, y’all are giving credit where it is not due. I mean honestly, if someone were to put together a compilation of out!Buck, it would not amount to anything. More so, they’d have to pad it with Buddie scenes, which speaks for itself even if they never go canon.

Anyway, my point is, stop lying about canon, and stop hyping Tim, the writers, and ABC up for what is currently a pretty poorly written storyline. Be happy we got bi!Buck, but also want more for his queer relationship. Especially when his relationships with women came with various small scenes to build their foundation, and him talking to his loved ones about how much he liked them.

#911 abc #evan buckley

[misc-obeyme]

so i was just thinking. solomon's like super in love with mc right? so that would mean he'd have a soft spot for them and would be nicer to some extent towards the mc. but like, how much contrast? i've seen instances where he's straight up sarcastic, snarky or "lmao idc" to some extent with other characters, and do you think if the same instance took place w mc as the subject he'd act the same way? most probably not right? as an ardent solomon lover, i just find the thought funny that it would be a running joke (it more or less is a thing with all characters and mc anyway but im just imagining it w solomon) amongst everyone about how nice solomon is with mc but is whatever w everyone. to what extent do u think is the contrast in character? how nice do u think he is in general, because i see many posts about how lovely he is to mc but is it the same with everyone? and how much sweeter do u think he is to us?? i just love thinking abt this because like...im so specialz yay pls love me solomon :')

Oh yeah. Solomon is notoriously down bad for MC. (At least, this is my opinion and I know others feel the same way.)

And I think this translates most in that he does things or acts a certain way with MC that he doesn't do with the others.

He has a general respect for most of the other characters and I think he keeps things civil. Some of them he likes more than others. But in a general sense, Solomon is a smart and powerful guy who is likely always aware of the fact that he's a human among demons and angels. I think he tends to hold everybody else at arm's length out of a sense of self preservation. He eventually opens up more as the story progresses and he becomes more friendly with everyone.

But he doesn't let anyone get as close to him as MC.

I don't know if I'd say he's nicer to MC, necessarily. I would say that he has more trust for MC. He tells MC things he would never tell anyone else. He's also very protective of MC. He's unlikely to go out of his way to protect the others or to defend them to people. But with MC? He shows up when they need him. He stands up for them even when they aren't around.

And I'd say that Solomon would do anything for MC. The others might ask him for help and he's often willing to give it, but he has no problem saying no to any of them (except perhaps Asmo, but even then I think he would if it was a big deal). But for MC, Solomon would lay down his life. Nobody can convince me that a man who would travel back in time just to help bring MC back wouldn't also take a bullet for them if it came down to that.

I don't think a situation like that would ever actually happen. And I also think that Solomon would try to find other ways of fixing things - like I said, this man is smart.

Still I think perhaps the most obvious evidence of him treating MC differently comes down to how much he's been willing to tell them about himself. He's told MC about his childhood, his loneliness, the way MC reminds him of his humanity, how he's jealous of the brothers. He's said these things to MC directly. He's honest and forthright with them.

Not that he lies to everybody else - in fact, I think he's a pretty terrible liar. But he keeps his secrets. He just doesn't tell them to anyone else.

Sure, he still has some secrets from MC. But I think he's keeping them because doing so is keeping MC safe. And I think in the end, he'll tell MC everything.

And THAT is the biggest difference. Solomon loves MC, but Solomon also trusts MC with the deepest truths of himself.

#well that's how I see it #oh anon you're giving me Sol feels now #I wanna write about him more than I have lately #obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me solomon #anon asks #misc answers

[acetheabnormal]

Thinking of a potential one-shot I may or may not write but I'm gonna write about here anyway just in case

Alternate timeline where Purgatory doesn't happen and the codecicle arc continues as planned; Slime progressively becomes more and more infected until his entire body minus his face is consumed by it. Randomly, Codeflippa up and disappears, halting the process and leaving him to rot in his eggxile home, unbearably weak and having not left the island in months.

Mariana, after his disappearance, decides to find where his husband fucked off to for all that time. Finding him in such a terrible state shocks him, and he decides to try nursing Slime back to health while attempting to convince him that he isn't a monster, despite what Slime's reflection and prior actions have shown.

Phil and a few others have been continuing the hunt on code entities, wiping most of them out in the process. He decides to visit Slime's home in eggxile to see if any had managed to escape there while keeping the prior knowledge of Codeflippa's existence in mind.

Catching a glimpse of Slime in his code form, Phil comes to the conclusion that Mariana, much like Slime was to Codeflippa in believing she was his daughter, believes that a code monster has taken the likeness of his husband and was being tricked.

Phil confronts Mariana with this, and Mariana becomes incredibly defensive; he's seen Codeflippa and KNEW it wasn't her, so how could he possibly be tricked into believing another code monster has shape-shifted into his own spouse?

Phil is adamant on his stance and attempts to confront Slime instead, getting inside the house and seeing Slime's weakened state. Phil meets his eyes, unsure at first. Could it really be him? Even after everyone thought he was dead? It had been so long, after all.

Phil declares that he's going to kill him, the code monster, and Slime is hit with a realization; he is a monster and nothing is going to change that. So he may as well just give up.

Completely surprised by the sudden show of pacifism and remorse, Phil sees Slime basically collapse to the ground, fully prepared to accept his fate. None of the code monsters had ever refused to put up a fight once found, until now. Phil sees Slime, Charlie, his long-time friend in the husk of this man before him, and is struck with profound sadness and regret. He hugs him, apologizing profusely, full of guilt over his words and actions towards Slime.

Slime accepts the gesture just as Mariana slams in through the door and demands Phil to stop before seeing the scene before him, confused yet relieved.

And uhhh. That's all I got so far, and that's where it would probably end!

#thoughts #fic #qsmp #qsmp slimecicle #qsmp el mariana #qsmp philza #just thinking. a lot #long post

[skyloftian-nutcase]

I am a predicament man, Miphlink Trash happens to intrigue me. However, it that one has already been in an ask or you wish to change things up, Blood of the Hero sounds interesting.

I wrote this when the Miphlink brain rot was absolutely eating me alive lol. Also because any time I've ever ran into "Mipha gives birth" scenes it's always this simple little "out pops the egg and we're fine :D" thing and just... as someone who has seen mothers in labor... no. Just no. LOL. Also, let Link be weirded out! Everyone writes him as being totally fine with his wife laying eggs and like... it's unnatural to Hylians anyway, and most dads are weirded out by natural and normal births. Doesn't mean he's gonna love his kid any less. Anyway, enough rambling, here's a snippet lol:

Link had known that it would be different. He knew the Zora laid eggs, and from there the child would develop and hatch and become far more akin to what he was used to as a Hylian. But he’d never seen a Zora egg – they were all kept here, a place that had been forbidden to him until today. It looked strange, almost transluscent, each egg in varying shades that resembled Zora scale tones. None of the ones in the same pool were as big as Mipha’s, but some in other pools seemed to be. All the eggs stirred occasionally, nearly scaring Link out of his skin, though the manner in which they did varied. In other pools the eggs simply seemed to rock, whereas the one where his child was all the eggs moved a little in shape.

“The shells harden over time,” Naran explained as she approached him. “They’re very malleable during birth to make the process easier, but they harden to protect the child afterward.”

A womb outside the womb, he supposed, and the thought made the process a little less… foreign and strange. He couldn’t take his eyes off the egg, wondering if the baby could hear all of them just like Hylian babies supposedly could while being carried by their mothers.

What was in store for this child? What kind of father would Link be? How would he protect the child? Anxieties old and new started to plague him, interrupted only when Naran offered to hold the egg for him for just a moment. She carefully pulled it out of the water, and Link found he didn’t know what to say or do, so he leaned in and gently kissed it. He very clearly felt a little hand press against him, and he gasped, jumping back.

Goddess there really is a baby in there. It wasn’t like he didn’t know that, in theory, but still… Link leaned over again, a smile pulling at his lips now as he stared in wonder, and he whispered, “Hello, little one.”

Naran carefully placed the egg back in the water and put a hand on his shoulder. “Congratulations again, my prince.”

It was finally Link’s turn to let out an emotional laugh, eyes stinging with tears, and he found himself running back to Mipha to hug her. His wife held him in return, giggling into his shoulder, and there they stayed until the moon was high in the sky. Afterward, they were given one last chance to look at the child they’d created together before they were escorted outside. Link carried Mipha, as she was still absolutely worn out, and the two settled in a nearby spring, close enough that the midwives could reach them and check on Mipha, which they did religiously through the night. He held her all night, letting her rest, keeping her safe and admiring how she had managed to do such a thing and then act as if it was normal and everything was fine. Hylia above, women were built different.

#you ask skye answers #lovely clockwise works #miphlink #idk if I'd ever publish this but maybe I will someday #age of calamity