#lil things i wrote

[willowser]

you call the baby growing in your belly a multitude of things, like lovebug and gum drop and sprout. cute things, that remind you of how tiny it is and how full of joy you are, and the names don't stop even after you find out what you're having.

katsuki doesn't follow along—at first. every silly little term out of your mouth is only met with an arched brow and a small shake of his head, the occasional roll of his eyes and the even rarer uplift of the corner of his lips.

"he," katsuki always continues. "he ain't gonna care what color his room is, do whatever y'want."

there aren't many appointments he's able to make, something you think eats at him more than you. being involved with a pro hero requires all kinds of sacrifices and you both knew that before your relationship started—but facing the realities isn't always easy; it bothers him, in some deep, dark way he's not able to talk about. even with you.

it's hard to tell how he feels at the first one he comes along for: he stands, quietly, eyes glazed over and lingering on the grainy image of your ultrasound, unmoving. when two little feeties are made clear in the picture, he silently crosses his arms and raises a hand to pick at the skin of his bottom lip—a nervous habit, one that gives him something to do and that hides his face just a bit.

he doesn't say anything for a long time. not until you're out in the car with your pictures in hand, going over them in the passenger seat.

"sooooo," you prod, "what'd'ya think? he's kinda...blobby, huh?"

he casts you a lazy glance, comes alive with a slow inhale before holding his hand out for the photos. the one with the little feet sticks out to him and he snorts, the corner of his lip raising. "yeah," he murmurs, before turning his attention back to the road. "but he's just a little bean, ain't he?"

#cw children #cw pregnancy #then once yall can see him moving around he starts calling him big foot LMAO #and he takes the lil photos with him 😌 #keeps them at work 😌 #and then once he's born he calls him all kinds of thing #like little snot LOL #✿ thoughts: bakugou #✿ willow writes #✿ theme: dad bakugou #from drafts i wrote this in feb hehe

[thefatedthoughtofyou]

"I'll see you guys later!" Eddie calls, his hips wiggling as he fake jogs to the door. Steve holds his hand up after him, Robin waves her whole arm at him, not looking away from the stove. Steve stares after him as he disappears, he hears the door open and click closed.

"You've got that dopey look on your face again." Robin says, crossing her arms and resting against the counter as she watches him. Steve turns to her, avoids her eyes and watches the steam rise from the bowl of Ramen on the countertop.

"Shut up." He grumbles.

"Just sayin. Your eyes get all shiny and your mouth literally hangs open sometimes... it's... ridiculous." She shakes her head but she looks... sad? Steve hates when she looks at him like that.

"Well-" he stops, takes a deep breath. Robin's lip twitches.

"Let it out babe. You'll feel better." She holds her hand out, twitches her fingers encouragingly.

Steve grimaces, runs his hands over his face and then jumps off the stool to his feet.

"It- it- it's just dimples! Dimples across the board Robin! I mean what am I supposed to do with that!?" He groans, his hands flailing at his sides, a habit he'd picked up from both Robin and Eddie.

"You should tell him how you feel maybe?" Robin says, he voice completely calm as she stirs her ramen slowly.

"Can you please stop suggesting that. We've established that's not a viable solution." Steve huffs, hands falling to the countertop on their small island, his shoulders tight.

"Well. No. You established that. I agreed to no such thing." Robin shakes her head, crosses her arms again.

"Steve. It's been three years. We've all lived together. For three years. You've been hopelessly in love with him. Forthree. Fucking. Years."

Steve opens his mouth to defend himself but before he can speak there's a clatter by the door and Eddie comes skidding back into the room.

"You're in love with me!?" He shouts, his eyes wide as they bounce between Robin and Steve.

"I'm out." Robin says, grabbing her bowl gently and walking away.

"Robin!" Steve calls, it sounds more like a whine but he would deny that to his grave.

"Nope." Is all he gets from her as she, uncharacteristically, gracefully dodges his reaching hands and disappears down the all into her room.

Steve turns, his mouth opening, about to apologize or backtrack or maybe cry a little, but instead finds himself with a chestful of Eddie Munson. Eddie's hands tug his hips close and then move nimbly up his sides to rest against his neck.

"Hi." Eddie says, smiling. Steve's eyes move to his cheeks, his dimples, helpless.

"Hi. I can expla- mmfph!" Eddie's lips press to his with a genlte force Steve could only associate with Eddie. His lips are soft, if a little chapped, and warm, moving gently agaisnt his. Steve lets his eyes fall closed and hums into the kiss, wraps his arms around Eddie's waist and holds him close.

"I'm in love with you too." Eddie breathes, pulls back, looks at Steve, his eyes shining with tears.

"I love you too." He breathes again, bumping his nose into Steve's.

"Yeah?" Steve asks, tilts his head and watches as Eddie dramatically clutches his chest with a teasing grimace.

"Yeah." Eddie nods, his nose scrunching. Steve bites his lip, squeezes Eddie's hips until he squirms and then pulls him close again.

"I love you." Steve says, reaching up and tucking Eddie's hair behind his ear.

"You said." Eddie sinks his teeth into his own lip and scrunches his nose again, swaying side to side, moving them both.

"Not to you. And it's nice to say it. Finally." Steve says, smiling as Eddie keeps them swaying slowly.

"Three years is a long time I guess." Eddie nods, slowly, eyes narrowing.

"What? What's that for?" Steve asks, reaching up and moving his finger over the frown lines on Eddie forehead, trailing his finger down his nose as well, making it twitch.

"Nothin just. Three years is a lot." He bites at Steve's hand as he moves it away to rest on Eddie's shoulder, Eddie's eyes move back to his face.

"But six years is longer." He mumbles it, and quickly tucks his face against Steve's neck, hugging him and holding him close.

"Wait what? Six years?" Steve frowns, tries to untangle Eddie from himself, Eddie holds on tighter.

"Eddie!" Steve huffs, manages to untangle himself and look at Eddie, who's red in the face.

"What?" He asks, sounding innocent. Like he hadn't just said what he'd said.

"Six years?" Steve asks. Eddie nods, looks at the floor.

"That was... senior year. My senior year." Steve says slowly, doing the math.

"Yeah. I was there for that." Eddie mumbles.

"I know. I just... you have not been in love with me since senior year." Steve protests, rolling his eyes fondly.

"Okay fine. Maybe not actual love. But I was infatuated. Big time." Eddie admits, rubbing at his neck.

"Dude I was miserable senior year. I had no friends. I got my fuckin heart broken. I mean I was a mess." Steve shook his head again, watched as Eddie nodded in agreement as he spoke.

"I know dude. And I know it probably says something shitty about me but... it was a good look on you." Eddie shrugged, looking sheepish.

"Misery was a good look on me?" Steve propped his hands on his hips. Eddie waves his hand at Steve, groans as he spins in a circle to get his eyes back on Steve.

"Yes man! Sorry. Not in like... ugh. I don't know. You went from pretentious douchebag to sad pretty boy. And you stopped Tommy shithead from shoving my head into a toilet one day and I dunna that sort of changed how I saw you okay?" Eddie's hands flailed, and then he clapped his hands and pointed at Steve.

"And! And and! You didn't even like... seem interested. You just told him to fuck off all nonchalant, and then you were gone, man! And then the next fucking year all that shit happened, and I saw you with the gremlins and I just... fell hard okay?" He shrugged again, rolling his eyes when he saw the grin spreading across Steve's face.

"You sat by my bed in the hospital man. What did you expect? There's only so much my little gay heart can fend off before it goes all soft and gooey." Eddie pouts at him and Steve thinks his heart might burst out of his chest.

"You never said anything." Steve says, takes a step toward Eddie.

"Yeah well. I didn't know you were into guys until very recently and I-" his hands wave at his sides, like he's helpless.

"You what?" Steve pushes, teasing now. Eddie levels him with an unimpressed look and then rolls his eyes.

"I was scared alright? Cuz if I said something, and you didn't feel the same, then I'd have ruined everything. And I don't know if you've notcied this Steve, but I kinda like having you around. And being around you." He makes a face, like it should be obvious.

"And love confessions tend to change things, between people. So I just... didn't say anything." He shrugged again, helpless again. Steve closed the distance between them quickly. Grabbing Eddie's face genlty, holding him as he stares at Steve.

"We are. So. Fucking. Stupid." Steve punctuates each word with a little shake to Eddie's head. The laugh that bursts out of Eddie as he wraps his arms around Steve and pulls him close again fills their apartment like sweet music.

Steve presses kisses anywhere he can reach, along Eddie's shoulder, up his neck, across his cheeks. Eddie finally cups his cheeks and finds Steve's lips with his own.

"Honey I love you. But if you ever call yourself stupid again in my presence we're gonna have a problem you and me." Eddie mumbles, his lips still brushing Steve's as he speaks. Steve snorts and dives face first into Eddie's neck.

"Laugh all you want sweetheart. I'm serious." Eddie assures him.

"I called you stupid too ya know?" Steve sighs into Eddie's shoulder.

"Mhm. I'm allowing that. Currently." Eddie hums, his hand rubbing Steve's back as he clings to him.

"Okay. I won't. But I do really love you." Steve says, pulls back to look at Eddie. His nose scrunches again, that giddy smile back on his face.

"I really love you too." Eddie darts forward, peppers kisses across Steve's cheeks.

"Shit. You're gonna be late." Steve says, glancing at the clock on the microwave. Eddie shrugs one shoulder.

"That's alright. They'll understand. You wanna come?" He asks, squeezing Steve's hips.

"You want me to come? To your dungeon game?" Steve lifts his eyebrows.

"Okay I know you know what it's called. That's not as cute as you think it is." Eddie says. Steve leans closer, his breath ghosting over Eddie's neck makes him shiver.

"Yes it is." Steve whispers, then licks a stripe up Eddie’s cheek, and then promptly pouts when Eddie is unfazed.

"They won't care if I come?" Steve asks, wiping at the wetness he'd left behind.

"Course not. The guys love you. And they'll be fucking ecstatic that I'm not gonna be pinning about you anymore." Eddie winks, slaps Steve's butt as he reaches behind him for his keys sitting on the counter.

"You've been pinning for me?" Steve repeats, teasing, as he grabs his shoes.

"Six. Years. Steven. Yeah, you could say I was pinning." Eddie grabs his bag off the floor as Steve tugs his laces tight.

"Alright alright. But hey," Steve presses himself to Eddie's side as they reach the door.

"They're gonna wish you were still pinning by the time we're done." Steve grabs Eddie's head and presses his lips to Eddie's cheek, hard. Eddie cackles, shoots Steve a wink as he grabs his hand, and tugs him out the door.

#this is just a random lil thing i wrote simple because i saw a gifset of eddie and his dimples #it took me ages to get it....sort of okay so i hope you guys like it #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #my writing #mine #fates endless inkwell #fei #my fic

[casiia]

༉‧₊˚. — simon 'GHOST' riley; cooties.

warnings .: x reader, dad simon, afab ! reader, soso much fluff, unedited.

.: masterlist.

imagine simon’s daughter coming home with tears just running down her face, you’re trailing in behind and trying your best to hide your laugh as you console her.

“it’s just a myth, dear.”

but that only makes her cry harder, because she’s 7 and doesn’t know what the fuck a myth is. who is she supposed to believe…her loving mother who raised her and has never lied to her a day in her life, or the girl she’d met just an hour ago on the playground.

“it’s true!” she gasps out, wiping her wet cheeks with her palms, dramatically dragging her hands down her face as another sob wracked her tiny body.

you could only snicker silently as you brushed away baby hairs that clung to her cheeks. frankly, you didn’t know what to say; you’d tried everything to help your daughter and ease her of this new world ending conflict.

simon’s on immediate alert, normally he’s welcomed home with kisses and hugs and bottomless babbles about pointless things. hearing his baby’s loud cry followed by her quick and urgent footsteps makes him panic and his mind instantly goes to the worst.

hurriedly, simon makes his way down the stairs nearly breaking his neck when he trips over a stray toy — but he manages to grab the banister before falling to his death and peaks into the living room.

you’re sitting on the couch with her cradled in your arms, a tender and gentle shush whispered off of your lips as you untangle knots in her hair. your attempts to calm her down don’t, she’s as stubborn as her father, if not more.

“what’s going on, sweet pea?” simon asks, treading carefully as he inches closer to you, his eyes clouded with a mix of worry and question.

before he can sit down, the girl in your arms shrieks so loud he can hear it ringing in his temple. wincing at the loud intrusion, simon watches as his daughter shoots from your arms all the way across the living room, her back pressed to the wall and eyes wide with what seems to be horror.

now simon’s afraid, is there something on his face? did he forget to shave? is he even simon?

you only snort behind your palm, furrowing your eyebrows and returning back to your playful yet serious expression. “go on, babygirl. tell dad what she said.”

his heart is hammering in his chest now, what did she say — who are you talking about?

and he doesn’t know if that scream altered him deaf but all he can see is her lips moving. the sound of your quiet giggles calms him though, and you have to ask her to say it again.

“she said boys have cootie!” she screams, looking horrified — looking at her dad as if he’d grown a third head and eaten all of her halloween candy.

simon begins to open his mouth to say something, something along the lines of “who fuckin’ told ya that.” although the more he thinks it over he’s compelled to play into the roll. he pauses for a moment, concentrated on weighing out the pros and cons.

on one hand, it breaks his heart to see his girl avoiding him like this. going to the edge of the earth just to distance herself from him. crying out because her world is shattered, her dad? having cooties? what nonsense.

on the other hand. simon’s been hearing about this ‘jack’ boy that she’s been in love with on the playground, he even proposed to her with a fucking stick. his daughter can do better than that. and hell, she’s too young to be dating, she doesn’t even know her alphabet!

so with some quick thinking a small smile paints his lips, he opens his arms and watches as she hesitantly takes a step forward. his heart leaps at that, she’s willing to catch a fake disease of cooties just for a daily hug from her father.

“boys do have cooties, but not me, see this?” he reaches inside of his shirt and pulls out the dog tag that hangs around his neck, he gives it a nice tug and smiles a bit. “it’s cootie-repellent.”

another step, hesitant but slowly the small girl is inching away from the wall and closer to the awaiting arms of her dad. “r-really?” she asks, a hiccup following her shaky breath as she calms down.

simon only nods, he’s grateful that your daughter isn’t one to question much. a hard believer in anything she hears, to this day she still believes that fairy’s live in the freezer. he’s not sure what story he would make up if she began questioning him, maybe something with fairies. they were always his go to.

“y’want it?” simon begins to take the necklace off, holding it out to her. shes just an arms reach away, but she’s curious.

“yes.” she mumbles, her heartbroken expression from moments ago turning into that beaming smile that warms simon’s chest. “i’ll give it to jack!”

simon stills. fuck. no way was he going to lose his girl this soon. “nuh uh.” he laughs, quickly tucking the chain back under his shirt and pulling his daughter into his chest.

you watch as he ruffles her hair, her muffled screams falling onto deaf ears as she squirms and punches her dad, begging for him to let go. simon only tightens his arms around the flailing girl, peppering kisses all over tear stained face, watching her once glossy eyes crinkle with joy at her dad’s affection.

thank god for cooties.

#[ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ — 𝐒𝐈𝐀 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒. ] #do 7 year olds know the alphabet #?!??!?! #silly lil thing i wrote at 5am #( 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘 ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ ) #simon riley x reader #simon riley #dad simon #cod #call of duty

[onleurafaitcroire]

The first time you come into the restaurant during prep to see Carmy quickly (and maybe get some of your own work done in his office while he’s busy cooking – he’d offered the space to you anytime you needed to get shit done and didn’t feel like trekking all the way to campus), the staff are shocked to see how quickly and drastically his demeanor changes as soon as he sees you – he all but drops what he’s doing, leaving Syd in charge momentarily, and greets you with a bear hug and a kiss to your forehead. He’s mumbling softly in your ear, something that’s making you giggle quietly and beam up at him, and the staff collectively stops to watch because hello? They’ve never seen Carmy anything beyond pissed off and mildly grumpy.

#lil blurby thing i wrote on my phone earlier today #hopefully i'll write some more this weekend #my writing #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #the bear fx #the bear #the bear hulu #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto fluff

[dontbelasagnax]

little longer than a drabble tatooine husbands drabble 🫶

"You know what your problem is?" If anyone else said this to Cody, he'd break their arm. However it's Obi-Wan. And he happens to deliver it with adoration and hearts dancing in his eyes. 

"What," Cody says in a drawl drier than the hottest day on this Force-forsaken scorched dustball of a planet. 

"You worry entirely too much, my dear."

Cody looks at him. It's a long look. One that ferments the longer it goes. "Right." 

"Mhm." He sounds so satisfied as he moseys into Cody's personal space that hasn't belonged to only himself in a considerable amount of time. "I believe I have the facilities to ease such a predicament."

Cody lets himself be nudged to lean against their kitchen counter. His hands find the soft woven tunic around Obi-Wan's unbelted waist. He'll allow himself to be distracted for this; if he's correct about where this is going. "You do?"

This close together, the wrinkles of Obi-Wan's face blur. "Yes," he says and warm lips meet Cody's. 

Cody's eyes fall shut. His husband has a gift because, yeah, the soft, insistent press of his body wipes the thoughts from Cody's mind. Easy as anything he gets lost in kiss after kiss. A thumb rubs warm, tantalizing circles just under the hem of his hastily thrown-on top. 

When Obi-Wan pulls away, Cody follows. Whiskers nuzzle his cheek instead. Words spoken are a quiet reassuring balm he would never ask for. "Rooh and the banthas are fine. They've likely wandered to graze." That in itself does not bode well but Obi-Wan continues, "No, the local Tusken tribe won't go back on their word and do anything untoward to the dears. They're more likely to return them to us. Our girls are just fine."

Cody exhales long and slow. He noses in closer as the tension releases from his body. A warm embrace. 

"Okay?" asks Obi-Wan. Both his hands are under Cody's shirt now, rubbing up his back. 

"Yeah." 

He feels Obi-Wan smile against his cheek. "Now then," lips purse and lightly kiss him, "come back to bed. By the time I'm done with you the girls will have returned and the Lars will be expecting us for lunch."

Cody follows Obi-Wan back to their rumpled bed, fighting back a smile. When his back meets the mattress and he has a lapful of Obi-Wan he lets it melt away into the joy of life thrumming through his blood. 

It's not always like this. They have their moods. The days when the past echoes too loud in the quiet of the desert. But he's here. He's alive. His joints ache and his hair is threaded with more grey than black these days. And, against all odds, Obi-Wan's here with his own hands worn with age that fit perfectly in Cody's.

The first sun starts to creep up over the horizon, filtering in through a slatted window, and Cody mind blurs to enjoy their lazy early morning lovemaking.

#needed them to kiss and none of my wips had the right vibes for it so i wrote this lil thing :3 #codywan #my writing #obi wan kenobi #commander cody #tatooine husbands

[after-witch]

Bonded [Platonic Yandere L x Sibling Reader]

Title: Bonded [Platonic Yandere L x Sister Reader]

Synopsis: Being L 's younger sibling sucks.

Word count: 1700ish

notes: platonic yandere, abusive sibling dynamic, L is an asshole; reader is a younger (adult) sibling

“Why do you have to go away? You just got back.”

L doesn’t answer. He scrapes his thumb across his lip and continues typing, clicking, mesmerized by whatever new assignment has been sent his way. 

It was always like this. It seemed that anytime your brother got back, he was sent out again. Always needed, always being pulled by a million different people in directions you couldn’t even fathom. And you were here, at Whammy’s, stuck and lonely and increasingly pissed off.

You suck in your cheeks, gnawing lightly on the inside of your mouth, taking in a bit from behind your lips, a bit on the side of your cheek. Your teeth work the flesh over and over, not hurting, but pressing down.

 A familiar habit, ingrained from a young age, something that simultaneously soothes you without actually disappointing the growing frustration, anger, resentment in your belly. Maybe it doesn’t soothe you at all, you muse. Maybe it’s just a way to shut yourself up so you don’t say something you can’t take back.

“You’ll get blisters inside your cheeks again,” he says, glancing at you and looking away just as quickly. 

It’s nothing new for him to barely pay attention to you when he’s on assignment, and it’s nothing new for you to clamor for more of that attention.

Life was unfair and he was unfair, but you played into the bullshit anyway, because you didn’t know how else to live.

So you let your voice take on a muffled tone, annoyed, childish. You want him to tell you to stop acting like a kid. You want him to sigh and slam his laptop shut and ask you what’s wrong. You want him to just look at you, talk to you, damn it, for more than a few seconds. 

“So what?”

You cross your arms over your chest, playing the petulant child. It’s what you feel like--what you’ve always felt like--in his presence. Like some dumb little thing, stupider than him, smaller than him, less than him.

He doesn’t even look at you this time, his fingers flying on his keyboard, the clacking sound irritatingly familiar at this point. “They’ll sting when you eat food, and you hate gargling salt water to heal them, so I’ll have to make you do it.” He twists his mouth into something like a pout, but you can’t tell if it’s aimed at you or whatever he’s reading on the screen. 

“I’m not using salt water, even if I get blisters,” you say, jutting your chin outwards. You’ve been reading too many novels, clearly, and everything feels like it has a practiced air. You’re a player in a theatrical performance, and you can’t tell if L is the audience or a fellow actor or maybe he’s the director, cooling pulling the strings behind the curtain. 

He glances at you again, then resumes typing. “Then you can be grounded to your room for a week. No TV. No books.”

Your lips curl even further. “You can’t ground me. I’m an adult. You’re just being an assh--”

He does look at you this time, and it’s that stare that you know too well. The I’m-older-than-you stare, the I’m-in-charge-of-you stare. The stare that he gives when you ask to attend real university and not some in-house curriculum; the look that he gives you when you ask to move out of here, to get your own place, when you bring up the fact that you’re a grown-fucking-adult but you’ve never had any life experiences outside of motherfucking Whammy’s House and you’re losing your mind.

Your eyebrows furrow.  Your cheeks flush hot, shame rolling around in your gut. Then your arms uncross and you huff, throwing yourself backward on the bed, landing on your pillows. Two plush, soft things, a stark contrast to the uniform firm pillows normally issued at Whammy’s.

L hated those pillows, and so did you, and it was one of the first things he secured for you once it was clear that the two of you were going to stay. That, you tell yourself, is a sign that he cares about you. 

But it doesn’t make you feel any better right now. 

“Don’t breathe so loud,” L says, suddenly, voice lilting enough to eat away at your resentments. “Please. You’ll distract me.”

You resist the urge, only barely, to throw a pillow at his head. 

--

Later that night, L puts away the computer and the phone. He murmurs something to someone in the hallway before slinking into your bedroom, watching as you finish your nighttime routine, peeling back the covers and crawling into them.

You look at him. He doesn’t make to leave, like he sometimes does, when he’s too busy.

He raises an eyebrow.

You open the covers, and say nothing more. 

In a few moments, he crawls into bed. 

Familiar warmth, familiar smells, familiar touch. You nestle yourself in the crook of his arm, automatically. You do this, even if you’re mad. Or especially when you’re mad, sometimes.

“The nest,” you used to call it, when he was young and you were younger. A safe place you could go when everything was overwhelming and the world was too cold and dark, and the only thing that made you feel at home was your brother’s arms. 

Back when it was mostly just you and him. No legions of would-be successors, wanna-bes,  hangers-on, vying for scraps of his attention. No stony-faced men in suits letting you know that he wouldn’t be returning home (if this could be called “home,” and you certainly wouldn’t call it that) for another few months and no, he couldn’t call, but they’ll pass on your message. No eccentrics with monikers of N and M and every letter under the sun making you wonder what would happen if you L did die, where would you be, who would you turn to? 

Back when he felt like your big brother, and nights like this--in the same room or the same bed, falling asleep together, words murmured until you fell asleep, always before him--were the norm. And not the rarity that they are now. 

And truth be told, it still makes you feel safe to be nestled there. That’s what really hurts the most. It would be better, easier, if you hated him. If you resented him so much that you wanted nothing to do with him. 

Instead, you’re like a moth beating its wings senseless against a light that only sometimes turns on. Useless and pointless but at least, sometimes, once in every fucking while, you got what you wanted. 

“L?” You ask, your voice partially muffled from your position curled next to him. You’re sleepy, but you know he won’t be. He sleeps even less than he used to, and that’s saying something. 

“Mm?” 

It takes so, so much of you to ask him this point blank. You wonder if he knows this, that being so candid is like stripping yourself bare in front of the entire world. Which he might as well be, for you. 

“Will you take me with you, this time?” Your fingers curl tightly on his shirt. “I hate being here by myself.”

He breathes out a quick little snort, enough to rustle your hair. His arm tightens around you. 

“How can you hate being here by yourself, when you’re not by yourself? There’s--”

You know he’s about to list every single damn person at this stupid facility. You know them all, and you hate them all. Well… most. 

(You could, if pressed, admit that Matt was tolerable in medium doses. But you’d never admit that to your brother, for reasons you couldn’t quite articulate. Sometimes you imagine the look on his face if you were to tell him that you hung out with Matt, actually, and he seemed--what? Nice? Funny? Interesting?) 

Your fingers tighten further. Tears choke your throat. 

“You know what I mean,” you whisper, tight, pained. 

You’re not so different from the others at Whammy’s, you know. They crave his attention more than anything and God help you, so do you. A look, a glance, a shared memory. Something to remind you that you’re alive and he’s your brother and you’re together, by blood and everything else. 

Yet it’s always there--

The push and the pull. 

Wanting to be near him and wanting to get away, break out, smash down the box you’re kept in and make a life for yourself. A life where you’re not “L’s sister.” A life where whispers don’t follow you in the halls, where expectations aren’t simmering in the air, heavy and unwanted. 

Where you don’t feel like your big brother is some unknowable figure, always out of reach, yet unwilling to either pull you entirely into himself or let you free. 

Sometimes you wonder… what kind of life could you have without L? He’s all you’ve ever known. There is not a single memory in existence in which he has not been a part of it. If he did let you leave, if you did get the nerve to make some great daring escape, what would become of you?

Maybe you were nothing without him, without those whispers, without the pedestal that you’re forced to stare up at whenever you think about him. 

The thought makes you want to wretch.

He hums, breaking you out of your thoughts.

You were clenching his shirt so hard that your fingers ache, and you flex them.

“Well?” You ask, voice dull.

You know he’s not going to take you with him before he speaks. Quiet tears slip down  your cheeks, and you feel dumb. But he doesn’t tease you for them, at least. There’s that.

“Maybe next time,” he says, and pats your back. Time to get to bed. He barely slept, but that didn’t mean he would let you stay up late. Or watch too much TV. Or leave Whammy’s for somewhere new. 

Disappointment weighs you down, but then, doesn’t it always? You swallow the prickles in your throat. 

“Then just… don’t be gone a long time, okay?” 

You sigh, letting yourself relax back into his arms. Into the nest. Into some remnant of childhood where you felt comfortable and safe. You push away all thoughts of leaving, of resentments, of the fact that your life is only something like fulfilled when your brother designs to visit. You stay there until you fall asleep, dreams gray and bleary, disconnected thoughts that are rarely worth remembering. 

Against your hair, L smiles. 

#yandere l lawliet #yandere death note #platonic yandere #yandere #yandere x reader #afterwitch writes #just a lil thing I wrote on my phone

[seiwas]

This is a snippet from the complete fic here!

You don’t know how Kirishima does it, being all… him all the time.

A part of you always thinks you don’t deserve it—how he meets you with tender understanding when you can’t even muster a smile.

You should be dealing with this on your own.

By yourself.

Not with him having to stay home a while longer instead of starting his morning in the gym, where he can enjoy the rare time he has to himself.

You feel terrible.

“Sorry, it’s nothing, just—” you sigh, pressing your palms to your eyes. Your hands are still damp from washing the dishes.

Kirishima’s presence has always been hard to miss—big, bright, and entirely all-comforting. He crosses the kitchen island to get to you now, hand reaching for the back of your head as he pushes you gently towards his chest.

It’s that familiar presence that makes you feel like crying right now.

“Hey, hey,” he shushes, his other hand rubbing up and down your lower back, “it’s okay.”

He’d already gotten ready for the gym when he heard the clatter, rushing out to the kitchen with his protein shaker in one hand and gym bag over his shoulder. You’d toppled over the dish soap and groaned out in frustration, watching the liquid ooze down the drain along with every bit of your self-composure.

It was one of those things; one of those days—that feeling you’ve been having lately triggered by the simplest, most unrelated occurrence.

Kirishima doesn’t say anything, just lets his heartbeat do the talking. Steady, grounding, like a weighted blanket wrapped around the whole of you.

He’s not going to be able to squeeze in a gym session before work if he stays with you any longer like this.

“You should go soon,” you mumble, voice muffled against his chest, the dri-fit material of his muscle tank cool against your forehead.

“In a bit,” he whispers, only holding you closer.

#a lil snippie from the kiri comfort drabble i wrote yday 🥹 #this wont appear in the tags so i wont post the whole thing yet but i just wanted to share ! #bc writing him rlly comforted me #and i love him #i think his first instinct is to act before speaking #but even then when he speaks its always focused on what youre feeling and never what hes thinking :-( #kirishima eijirou x reader #kirishima x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #i love him :-( #shotorus.process

[beardedjoel]

closer | part twenty one

joel x f!reader. non-apocalypse au.

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3

chapter summary: it's joel's birthday, and you've got one thing on your mind when you pay him a surprise visit, the first time you've seen each other in weeks. 10.6 k words. chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI, age difference (joel is 42 and reader is 25), soft!dom joel, grinding, unprotected piv, rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink, overstimulation / multiple orgasms, posessive! joel, tinitest of spit kinks (blink and you'll miss it) a/n: thanks for the patience amazing readers, this one feels like it took me ages to get posted, but i'm feeling good about how it turned out! i hope it lives up to what y'all were hoping for joel and reader! heheheh

Birthdays have never been Joel’s favorite, and the older he got, the less he looked forward to waking up another year older. He supposes that most people feel that way as they age, anyways, and tries not to pay it much mind. He wakes up that Friday, his birthday, wishing it was just any other day. But knowing Tommy, he’ll have something up his sleeve for today, and he groans internally and externally as he sits up and climbs out of bed. If this is what being forty three feels like - back aching, stiff knees, living without the girl he loves due to his own colossal stubbornness - he doesn’t want any part of it.

Grumbling to himself as he gets ready, taking a quick shower and running his hands through his wet hair to try and have some semblance of a good appearance, Joel vows to just try to just get through the day. He doesn’t fail to notice the way he’s checked his phone several times while he was getting ready, knowing the reason why is wishful hoping that you’ll text him. The only reason he could find to care about his birthday is if it was you recognizing it, he thinks with a growing twinge of sadness in his chest. Messaging you first seems like too much, like he’s asking for you to wish him a happy birthday, and the thought makes Joel instantly cringe, the long standing pit in his stomach falling deeper.

He’d just try to make it through the day, that was all, that was his motto right now. He found himself saying that more days than not recently, though. How many more days until he just couldn’t make it through the day, until this little motto lost all its meaning?

He sighs, deep in thought as he pulls up to work for the day, expecting the worst. If there’s even one party decoration in sight, Joel swears he just might wring Tommy’s neck. His day goes uneventfully for the most part, much to his surprise. While Tommy chose to spare him on the decorations, he did bring a chocolate sheet cake to their job site for everyone to enjoy, and Joel’s thankful it doesn’t have too much frill to it. Tommy just had to have them write on it, making sure to put his age and everything out there for the world to see - Happy 43rd Birthday Joel! He swears the numbers are bigger than anything else on the cake, and he can picture Tommy requesting that exact thing at whatever bakery counter he’d ordered this from. 

Regardless of his sour mood, the cake tastes so good that Joel finds himself having a second slice, and he claps Tommy on the shoulder, thanking him for going through the trouble at the end of their workday. 

“No problem, brother. Know I love ya. You ready to head out to Murray’s?” Tommy asks, and Joel gives him a curt nod. 

Tommy had agreed to drive Joel to the bar after dropping the cake and Joel’s truck off - that way he could drink as much as he wanted and Tommy had convinced one of their site managers, Don, into being a designated driver for the night to take Joel home afterwards. Don had grumbled on, saying why couldn’t Tommy do it but he knew Tommy Miller was a drinker, and wouldn’t want to miss out on celebrating his brothers’ birthday in the only way he knew how - getting belligerently wasted.

Typically, Joel may have indulged just as much as Tommy on a night like this, especially with how much he was additionally hating his birthday this year compared to other years. If you’d told Joel this time last year he’d end up sitting with a broken, hurting heart on his next birthday, he probably would have scoffed at the idea. Joel just simply wasn’t feeling up for having more than a few beers tonight, ready to call it an early night and forget this day ever happened. 

He was already sick of watching the door religiously, a man with one prayer uttered over and over in his head for you to walk through it any minute, glowing and radiant as always, here to cure everything that ailed him right now. As far-fetched as he knew the idea was, it ate away at the back of his mind throughout the entire few hours he spent there while he tried to not be completely horrible company to be around. At least everyone else seemed to be having a good time for his birthday, he thought with a scornful chuckle to himself, shaking his head a little bit.

When he finally convinces Don to take him home, Joel feels relief as his house comes into view. He wants to just change out of his clothes, put on some TV, and binge eat cake until he falls the fuck asleep in front of the screen and can move on from his birthday. Don seems to sense Joel’s increasingly self deprecating mood, and gives him an encouraging squeeze on the shoulder, wishing him another happy birthday and telling him to get some rest.

Joel is focused now, so close to the safe, warm, comfort of his home and his little plan for the rest of his night that he fails to notice you sitting in the shadows on his porch until your voice squeaks out and nearly has him jumping out of his skin.

“Hey stranger… Happy birthday,” you say, and Joel hears your voice, so sweet and quiet, but can barely register it. You look like you’ve walked straight out a dream of his, even in the dark he can see your pretty eyes framed by your delicate eyelashes fluttering as you blink nervously, the way your dress is hugging in all the right places before it falls just around your knees. He feels like his breath is torn right out of his lungs, and he’s frozen right there, keys halfway in the lock, just looking at you. Your name slips quietly out of his lips as a question, almost unintentionally, and you straighten a little more in your seat at hearing it.

“Wh-what’re you doin’ here?” Joel asks, finally finding his voice.

“Waiting for you,” you say candidly, and Joel just blinks for a moment, looking at you.

“Hope it wasn’t long… I was at the bar.”

“I uh, I know,” you tell him, and Joel’s brow crinkles a little in confusion. “Tommy told me. Actually, he invited me…” Joel interrupts with an irritated scoff at Tommy, muttering “asshole” under his breath to his non-present brother.

“I’m sorry I didn’t go,” you say, giving him a small, lopsided smile. “I didn’t want to interrupt your nice evening with… well, me.”

Joel’s mind is spinning now, taking all of this information in. He’s still reeling from just seeing you after so long, looking just as perfect as always, and now he’s expected to have a conversation with you when he can barely think straight.

When he doesn’t respond for a few moments, shifting in place, you glance to the other wicker chair next to you and motion to it. “Want to sit with me?” you ask, giving him a hopeful smile, your eyes shining and slightly wet. Were you close to crying? Joel felt a pull in his chest at the sight of you like this.

“‘Course, sorry,” Joel replies, shaking his head a little bit to bring himself back. “Jus’ a little surprised to see ya.”

“Sorry, if it’s not a good time, I can go,” you say quickly, sitting impossibly close to the edge of the chair, ready to leave at a moment’s notice if necessary. 

“No, no s’alright. Stay, sit back,” Joel says, waving you off and finally taking a seat next to you. You end up scooting back, getting a little more comfortable as you lean back in the chair and look over at Joel, a mixture of expectation and anxiousness written on your face.

“So… it’s your birthday,” you say with a teasing glint in your eyes, and Joel gives you a playful glare.

“Would seem that way, wouldn’t it,” Joel replies with an amused huff.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come to Murray’s,” you apologize again, “I didn’t want to make it a weird thing, since we haven’t… y’know, seen each other in a while.”

“Oh…” Joel says, musing for a moment. “Yeah, makes sense. But you’re here, now.” Joel feels a smile pull at his lips as he dares to look a little closer at you, seeing the familiar features of yours that he loves so much up closer. It’s been far too long since he got to gaze at you like this, he thinks to himself.

“I am,” you say, returning his smile. “Had to wish you a happy birthday.”

“Could’ve jus’ called,” Joel teases, despite feeling beyond elated that you’d showed up on his porch tonight. “Glad you didn’t, but just hope you didn't go through too much trouble.”

“If I had just called…” you say, dragging your words out, “How could I give you this?” You nudge a box on the little table in between the two chairs you’re sitting on towards him, and it’s the first time Joel even noticed it between it being dark outside and his transfixion on your face. He smiles tentatively as he gathers the box into his hands, pulling it onto his lap and inspecting it. A bright, confetti pattern adorns the wrapping paper with a shining red bow on top. It’s neat, tidy, perfect - exactly the kind of wrapping job he’d expect from you with so much thoughtfulness put into it.

“This is… real nice,” Joel stutters out. “Thank you…”

“Don’t thank me yet, you haven’t even opened it,” you say with a chuckle. You seem nervous - Joel clocks your hands moving around anxiously in your lap, a telltale sign that you’re thinking too much. 

“Either way, even if it’s total crap in here, it looks great,” Joel says with a light laugh, one you return, and he can see your tension easing. Joel lets his fingers tuck under the flaps of the paper as he tears it open, revealing a small, wooden box. He lets his hand run along the outside, a quizzical look on his face as he inspects it.

“Open it already, you’re killing me,” you blurt out playfully, your hand going to your mouth to absentmindedly chew on a nail.

“Alright, alright, hold your horses,” Joel says, his eyes brightening with delight at the situation. He’s still not entirely sure any of this is real, but he savors the moment for another second before opening the wooden box perched on his lap.

Inside is an intricate, gorgeous set of hand tools for woodworking, neatly arranged in the box, all with their own little placeholders. Joel gapes at it, not even realizing how many times his mouth opens and closes, trying to find the words to say. He can make out enough detail on everything in the dim porch light, but he’d bet these will be even more beautiful once he can get a good look at them.

“Don’t even know what to say, darlin’... this is…” Joel trails off, picking up one of the tools and inspecting it. “This is too much.”

“No, it’s not, Joel,” you defend immediately, stiffening in the chair. You’re absolutely ready to go to war with whatever Joel’s thoughts are telling him right now.

“Y-you shouldn’t have done all of this. Don’t deserve a gift like this from you.” He shakes his head slowly, still keeping his eyes on the box in his lap, not wanting to look at you and show all the vulnerability in his eyes. 

“That’s just not true Joel, I wanted to buy this for you, show you how much you still mean to me. Close the box and look at the lid again.” Joel gives you a weary look in response but does as you ask, inspecting the lid closer, and that’s when he spots it.

“See? It has your initials, right there,” you say, reaching over to point it out to him, your hand brushing dangerously close to his, and Joel feels his heart skip slightly in his chest at the proximity.

“I see that…” Joel sighs out, finally meeting your gaze. “This is perfect, sweetheart. Thank you,” he says solemnly, and while you don’t misunderstand Joel’s reaction, you feel a twinge of sadness that he’s having a hard time accepting this gift.

“I just noticed you didn’t have a ton of tools yet when you showed me your woodworking table, and I saw all those little wooden carvings you were doing - animals and stuff, so I thought maybe you’d need this,” you explain anxiously, giving Joel a half smile.

“Yeah, y’are right about that, didn’t have everything I needed yet. Been havin’ a hard time… with the small stuff…” Joel’s voice is coming out quieter than he wants, but he’s overcome with emotion right now. He swipes his hand over his eyes, trying to get his bearings, but you keep a steady gaze on him, observing his passing emotions. Joel feels your hand on his suddenly, fingers soft and delicate as you reach over from your chair to touch him.

“I want you to have this,” you say, and Joel looks up to see your lips curved up softly, eyes gentle and looking like they’re staring right into his very soul. Your fingers wrap around his hand, still closed around the box on his lap, and the warmth from your hand alone is taking him to another place, having wished and pined for your touch for so long now.

“Alright, I believe ya, then. Thank you again, it’s really… somethin’,” Joel says, a little bit of confidence growing in his voice again, and it lifts a small weight off of your chest to hear it.

“You’re welcome, Joel,” you say, giving his fingers a squeeze before starting to pull your hand back towards yourself. Joel’s hand catches it before it even leaves the vicinity of his chair, and holds on again, gripping tightly around your fingers. 

You two sit for what feels like an eternity, just his hand holding yours, both of your eyes full of questioning, possibility, and something… more.

“I have something else… for your birthday,” you manage to say just above a whisper, your voice low and saccharine as you shift forward in your seat, sliding to the edge and standing up. You still haven’t let go of Joel’s hand, using it to guide yourself the few steps over to his seat. You fluidly guide your legs on either side of his hips and slide onto him, settling yourself to straddle his lap. Where your hands join, you guide it to settle on your hip, and Joel follows suit with the other hand, gently touching you as if he’s afraid of breaking you.

Honestly, he was. He was so afraid of that possibility that he stiffened under your weight, panic rising up in his chest. He couldn’t deserve this, he couldn’t be allowed this happiness again.

You read his tensing body immediately, and snake a hand up to ghost along his cheek, brushing gently with the back of your hand. Joel lets out a sigh at the softness of your touch, the repressed longing built up in every cell of his body finding some escape in this one little puff of air exiting his lungs. His eyes flutter closed as you do it again, flipping your hand this time to rake the pads of your fingers down his cheek and through his beard.

“I-” Joel starts, a rasp to the little noise that breaks your heart. When you look into his eyes, you find nothing there but desolation in his warm brown, and you shake your head slightly.

“Shh,” you say soothingly, leaning forward slightly, “I know. I know.” Your head goes into the crook of his neck, your hot breath alone sending a shiver down his spine before you multiply it with a brush of your lips against his warm skin. Fluttering kisses along his neck, taking your time with each one, feeling and hearing Joel sigh deeply each time your lips touch him. When you reach his ear, taking the lobe into your mouth and giving it a gentle suck, Joel seems to melt a little before coming to his senses enough to speak up.

“You shouldn’t be… don’t deserve…” Joel murmurs. You pull back slightly, nuzzling your nose against the side of his cheek, taking the other side of his face into your palm, pressing yourself as close as you can. He catches the scent of your shampoo as your hair falls forward over the back of your head, right into his face. A scent he’d started to forget, nearly panicking the day he’d realized it was happening. A scent that he could have spent a lifetime searching for in drug and beauty store aisles, knowing it could never compare to this moment right here, when it was combined with you. Joel breathes in shakily, his erratic inhales and exhales showing just how close he is to breaking down. 

“I want you, more than just this. I want you, Joel,” you say, your confession laid bare. Joel’s heart thuds so loud he’s worried you can hear it clear as day as you two sit in a tense silence. You hold yourself against him with baited breath, now just left to wait for his response.

“You mean…” Joel starts, afraid to dare the question to leave his tongue for fear of your answer. 

You nod into him. “Yes,” you breathe. “Can we… try again? I’m ready, if you want it still.” You keep your voice low, vibrating right against his ear, and Joel lets another shudder wrack his body. He feels impossibly taut, like his muscles could snap at any moment, like he could fully break. But when he hears your words, he feels an instant release, the breaking of a thread that had been pulling, pulling, pulling, these last few months, slowly choking the life out of him. It was gone now. His chest nearly ached with the sudden lightness, and he fought the urge to clutch at it, not wanting to let go of where he held your hips even for a second.

“If I want it? If I want it…?” Joel echoes in disbelief. His arms slide around to your back, folding you deeper into his embrace and he chokes back a sob. “All I’ve ever wanted… right here,” he says, tugging you even closer, impossibly close, so that you’re nearly melding together into the same person. 

“Joel…” you manage to say, choked up with your own tears now. You could never express just how right everything feels at this moment, being back in Joel’s arms, being so sure of it when you’d been riddled with every worry and anxiety about this exact moment for weeks. You knew that you’d made the right decision, there wasn’t a doubt in your mind.

“I got you, I got you, sweetheart,” Joel says, his hand now gripping the back of your head as you hang your head onto his shoulder, burying into his neck and taking in his scent with a shaky breath, quickly blinking away your tears.

You push back against his hand, bringing yourself to eye level with him and peering into his eyes for what feels like the first time all over again. The emotion swirling there is nearly unreadable - a mixture of joy, care, wonder, and lust, and it’s all being directed at you, nearly taking your breath away. Before you can think, your lips crash into his, hard at first but turning delicate quickly, wanting to really feel this moment and the weight it has for you. Joel returns your passionate, slow kisses, his tongue begging entry into your mouth nearly immediately, and you let him, your tongues dancing together in the most beautiful way as you savor each other. 

Your hips move with a mind of their own, slowly pushing forward onto Joel and back again, starting a steady grind on his lap. Joel groans so loudly you nearly jump, and you find a small moan escaping your lips when you continue going back in for more, more, more from him. 

“Fuck,” he murmurs quietly into your mouth as you brush over the now obvious hard bulge in his jeans with your warm heat. You intensify the way you’re kissing him now, wrapping your fingers tightly around the back of his neck and hooking them deeply into the dark curls lying there, tugging enough to elicit another little noise from Joel, more desperate this time. 

He uses the opportunity to pull back slightly, his heavy breathing mingling with your own.

“Are you su-“ Joel starts, but you cut him off, not even wanting him to finish the question for the fact that he’d be harboring any thoughts that you have doubts about this. 

“I’m sure,” you say with conviction, locking your eyes on his again. His eyes seem to harden with determination then, nearly going a shade darker in the dim lighting of the porch. Joel lips find yours again and he devours you, practically stealing your breath with the ferocity of it. His hands slide to your ass, gripping it tightly and bunching the thin fabric of your dress in his hands before he pushes on you, forcing you forward to grind on him again. You let out a little whimper at his forcefulness, having missed the way his hands so perfectly guide you and show you exactly what you need. How he knows exactly what you need every time may always remain a mystery to you, but you’re not one to question perfection.

You continue your steady movements on top of him, letting Joel push you forward each time, his jeans beginning to rub a perfect rhythm on your aching pussy. It’s nearly too much already, too much Joel after being away from this bliss for too long, and you break off your kiss just to bury your head in his shoulder, mewling quietly next to his ear as you quicken your pace on his lap.

“Yeah, that’s right, baby, fuck…” Joel breathes out, already completely undone by the way you two are moving together as he starts grinding his hips back into you. “So fuckin’ perfect.”

You can feel your heart beating out of your chest, nervous for some reason as you decide you want more, to move things along with him. You think you’ll combust soon if you two keep up only making out like a couple of teenagers. While it feels amazing to be reunited, you feel the need to show Joel just how serious you are about what you’ve told him. 

Your hand shakes a little as you reach between the two of you to grab at Joel’s belt, swiftly undoing it amid many approving sounds from Joel as his lips attach themselves to your neck, kissing along the length of it and up to your face, covering as many spots as he possibly can with an undying eagerness to taste you on his lips.

Joel lets out a hiss when your hand reaches inside of his jeans, your fingers brushing along the soft fabric of his briefs, tracing the hard length of him inside.

“Is this okay?” you quietly rasp, and Joel’s approval stretches from his little smile to his eyes as he nods.

“Gonna make me crazy already, baby, the way you’re touchin’ me,” he says as you continue your movement along his shaft and wrap your hand tighter for a quick moment before sliding your hand inside of his briefs. The warmth of his skin blazes onto your hand as he throbs beneath you with your light strokes. Joel hums pleasantly, his eyes glazing over with need when you dare to peek into them. His head nearly lolls back onto the chair with a little groan when your finger swipes the head of his cock, feeling the wetness of his precum before you swirl it around the tip of his cock with your thumb.

Your entire body feels on fire, warm from the inside out as your core twists deep inside with need, the desire to feel him inside of you reaching a dangerous territory of necessity for you.

“Joel…” you coo as your cunt aches so sweetly for him, more than ready for him to completely own it again. You wrap a hand around his cock, fingers feeling so small around his girth that it makes your mouth water with anticipation for what’s to come.

“I know, baby,” Joel responds as you pull his cock out of his jeans, freeing the length of him and you gasp a little at the remembrance of the full size of him, already finding yourself picturing it being thrusted deep inside of you. Joel smirks at the starry-eyed look on your face as you take him in again and places his hands on your thighs, sliding your dress up higher.

“Missed my big fuckin’ cock, didn’t you?” Joel asks, so cocky and sure of himself that it sends another wave of desire straight to your clit and you can only find yourself nodding. “‘Course you did,” Joel adds on when he sees your speechless, practically drooling response to his question. Joel’s hand has been steadily moving your dress higher until his hands slide right to your ass, playing with the fabric of your panties, tracing his fingers along the lace.

Your hips lurch forward with anticipation, and you bring your lips down to Joel’s again, kissing him with pent up passion as one of his hands comes forward to cup your cunt, finding it desperately soaked for him, and he tuts into the kiss as if he can’t believe what he’s feeling. You push into his hand, your clit eager for any kind of movement on it, and Joel obliges, letting you grind onto his palm through your underwear for a few moments

“Need to see this pretty little thing,” Joel murmurs breathlessly, and you nod feverishly in agreement.

“Just fuckin’ rip them off, Joel,” you tell him, your lips barely leaving his to utter the words, and Joel growls deep in his throat at your eagerness, his fingers wrapping around the side of your panties to tear at them. You hear the splitting of seams as the fabric comes apart with a swift tug from Joel. It makes you feel impossibly feral that his strong hands made such quick work of the fabric that you can't help the moan that escapes you as you feel your panties fall away, completely ruined as Joel pulls them out from between you and tosses them to the ground, his lips never coming apart from yours. 

You lift your hips up, giving Joel the opportunity to slide his cock between your legs, and you moan immediately at the way he feels against your slick folds. He grabs the base of his cock with one hand, and your ass with the other, guiding himself to rub back and forth against you until you’re breathing so erratically that you have to stop kissing Joel for fear you won’t be able to catch your breath. He increases the pace, and every time his plump head presses and brushes against your clit you feel the build up tighten in your core even more until you’re ready to burst, the tension reaching a high as you nearly choke on your words. 

“I’m gonna… Joel… fuck, I’m oh -“

Your hips roll and spasm down onto his cock, and he keeps up the pace, brushing his head quickly over your pulsing clit in rapid motions as you ride out your orgasm. Your head buries into his chest, covering up your moans of his name as you yell it out into his shirt with a hand clutching tightly to the fabric. 

“Good, so good, baby, yeah, just ride it out f’me,” Joel praises, stroking the back of your head, “Come all over this cock, f-fuck…”

You whimper and slump into him a little to catch your breath and come down, but the feeling of his soaked cock still pressing against your folds sets you off all over again, and you need more. 

“Inside me… Joel… fuck….”

“C-can’t wait much longer either,” he says, uncharacteristically shaken, and he vibrates slightly with the effort of holding back, but you roll your hips onto his cock as he slides up your seam again, and then surprises you by pushing himself in, the head of his cock bursting into your entrance. You gasp at the intrusion initially, but sigh with relief at the feeling of him slowly, deliciously filling you up inch by inch, stretching you practically beyond your means until you’re completely full of him. You can’t help the warm feeling that spreads through you that this is what you were meant for, exactly where you’re supposed to be.

“Fuck,” Joel grits out, completely sheathed inside of you, feeling you squeeze him as you shift your hips to adjust to the fullness. “Just want to feel you for a second,” he says. “Missed this so much.”

Joel’s hands go back to gripping your hips tightly, not allowing any movement as he just feels you around his length, but you squirm in his grasp, making his cock push against your walls. You let out a whimpering sound at the feeling, and Joel bites the inside of his lip, barely able to contain himself between the small movements and sounds you’re making as you squirm and leak all over his cock, your arousal dripping down onto his jeans. You grip his shoulders for some leverage to begin moving as much as you can, and one of Joel’s hands frees your hip up to come grab your chin, pulling it tightly between his fingers as he forces you to look at him.

“Please…” you beg quietly, the throbbing, aching mess between your legs taking over any and all thoughts you have.

“You lookin’ for me to make you fuckin’ scream right here on this porch, are ya? Can’t wait until we’re inside?”

You shake your head with panting breaths from the exertion of trying to break out of Joel’s grasp to bounce your hips and feel him moving inside of you.

“Good,” Joel says, a devious smirk on his face, “‘Cause I can’t either.” With his words he pushes his hips up into you, affording him that tiny bit of extra space inside of you and you groan before he pulls his hips back, lifting yours at the same time before repeating the motion, slamming back into you hard and deep.

You cry out loudly, feeling him push against every part inside of you imaginable - have you always felt him this much, or is it just because you’d been deprived from the pure pleasure of Joel that it feels like so much more now? 

You start returning his movements with equal vigor, your bodies ferociously coming together as the chair creaks underneath your bodies with the harsh movement.

“Gonna break this damn chair if we keep it up,” Joel says with a chuckle, lightening his movements only slightly. 

“So what?” you manage to reply through stunted breaths as you slam yourself down onto Joel over and over. 

“Need to fuck you properly anyways, darlin’, c’mere.” Joel’s hands cup underneath your thighs, urging you up off his lap as you help him lift you, wrapping your arms around his neck. You bury your face there, not wanting even a moment to go to waste as your lips find his neck again and suck hard. Joel yelps quietly as he moves you to the banister of his porch, perching you on the edge of it, and you grip even more tightly onto his back, feeling your balance completely off on the thin slab of wood underneath your ass. 

“This is what you call proper?” You laugh, and Joel looks at you with a smirk before diving back in to kiss you, slowly grinding his hips into you now with nearly infuriating movements. You moan at the feel of every inch of him dragging out of you before pushing back in. You clench around him as your body shakes in his grip, unable to control the whimpering that escapes your lips. 

“Y’seem to be enjoying it,” Joel retorts, and you’re too lost in the feeling of his cock to even conjure up a snarky response. “You want it faster though, don’t ya? I know how my angel likes to take my cock,” Joel rasps eagerly, and you groan as you nod your head, begging for more of him. 

When he starts thrusting into you faster and harder, the banister rocks under the weight of it, but you can’t find it in you to care. Even if it all came crashing down and you two fell to the ground with it, you doubt either of you’d stop fucking the other with the way you’re both desperately panting now as Joel’s hips snap into yours repeatedly. 

Your legs slide higher up Joel’s back, your ankles hooking together around him, trusting his arms completely to hold you up from falling off the porch railing. When your hips angle enough for Joel to get deeper, you moan as he presses against the spongy part inside of you that makes you absolutely crazy for him, and he smirks as he sees your eyes flutter with each new brush against the spot. You whine out his name, and Joel tucks in closer and kisses you in response. 

“That good, baby?” he whispers gently, a stark contrast to the way he’s absolutely ravaging your body right now for anyone walking by to see. You’re grateful it’s late enough that it’s unlikely, but even then, you can't be bothered by the thought with the way Joel feels inside of you right now. 

“So good,” you whimper in response, barely able to form words as your core ignites again, twisting in anticipation of another high. “You feel perfect.”

“That’s cause this pussy was made to take me, made to take this cock, baby, fuck…” Joel says, grunting as he thrusts into you. “Can feel you baby, you’re so close, give me another one, sweet girl,” Joel murmurs, pressing as flush to you as he can get. The sudden change gives some stimulation on your clit from the soft, dark curls above his cock, and combined with another brush against your g-spot, you’re losing a grip on reality so quickly you almost can’t keep up. 

“Joel… Joel… harder,” you cry out, desperate for your climax to burst out of you, to claw its way out from the tingling pit now formed right where Joel’s cock is pressing deep inside of you. He obeys, thrusting into at an alarming rate, your legs helping his speed as you press them into him with every inward thrust, matching his rhythm. 

You moan out long and low, the pleasure too much to take as the pressure builds to a point you nearly can’t take it anymore before you’re finally pushed over the edge by Joel biting into your neck. You hadn’t even noticed his head move down to do it, so lost in your own ecstasy, but the sensation of the pain with pleasure is enough to send you careening straight into your orgasm, practically screaming and sobbing with the intensity of it. Your slickness pours out onto Joel’s cock and he grunts and mumbles into your neck at the feeling before you feel the familiar sensation of you squirting, knowing the mess you’re making right now must be catastrophic between that and how hard you’d came. 

Joel seems intent on adding onto it, at the tail end of your climax as your cunt squeezes his cock, he releases with a long, loud grunt, cursing under his breath as he fucks into your cunt a few more times and spills himself into you. Ropes of his cum coat your walls, the warmth filling you nearly sending you over the edge another time in the midst of your oversensitivity. You feel tears rolling down your cheeks from the comedown of such an intense moment with him, feeling so fulfilled and grateful to be his. 

Joel sits for a long moment, his cock buried deep inside of you still, holding everything in that’s threatening to leak out around him. He pulls back from your shoulder and sees the few stray tears and smiles gently before kissing your cheeks, lapping them up in the process. When he does pull out, it’s then that you notice just how much of a depraved, wet, mess you two had made together. Joel can see and feel the mess between your legs and he tuts, half-impressed and half-teasing before helping you off the banister and onto your shaky legs. 

“Fuckin’ messy girl for me, ain’t ya?“ Joel cocks an eyebrow at you. 

You find yourself shying under his gaze, something that hasn’t happened for a long while now, and it feels refreshing in a way, almost like you two really are starting new. Joel wraps his arms around you after tucking himself back in, smoothing your dress down your backside for you. 

“S’okay, just how I like you, my messy little thing,” he coos, pinching your cheek quickly, and you giggle, pressing yourself into his chest, just letting him hold you.

“You comin’ inside?” he asks, and you can hear the hesitation in his voice, like he truly believes you may not want to spend any more time with him, that you’ll regret what you two did any second. 

“Thought you’d never ask,” you tease him, hoping to lighten his seemingly aching heart a bit and Joel smiles brightly in response. 

“Good, ‘cause I’m nowhere near done with you yet,” he replies, meeting your lips for a long, deep kiss. Unbelievably, you feel a swirl of desire crop up in your belly at the sensation, his perfectly plump lips giving in to yours so delicately but so deeply, and you let out a little moan. Joel pulls away, chuckling. “Sounds like neither are you,” he adds on, looking at you expectantly.

“C’mon, let’s go cowboy,” you say, grabbing his hand to walk to the door together.

“Cowboy, huh? That’s new,” Joel comments with a questioning brow.

“Trying something out,” you tell him with a shrug, grinning, and Joel laughs as he unlocks his front door and leads you inside. The second the door shuts behind you, you find Joel on top of you again, his tall frame crowding over you and his hands on your hips, quickly roaming over your back, ass, shoulders, anywhere he can touch as he takes you in, holding you close to him. His head dips down to breathe in your scent again, getting completely lost in it. You shudder under the feeling of his breath near your ear, hot and needy right on the sensitive skin there.

“Sorry, sweetheart, jus’ can’t help myself right now. Fuckin’ missed bein’ able to hold you like this, touch you anytime I want,” Joel confesses, still not letting up the way his hands are moving, landing on your ass to knead the plush globes there.

“Missed it too,” you breathe out, not minding one bit the things he’s apologizing for, finding your body melting into his again.

“How many times you think I can make you come before I’m ready for ya again?” Joel asks next to your ear, one of his hands gliding to the front of your body and slipping under your dress, immediately going right between your legs. You’re still soaked, remnants of your time outside all over you, your pussy feeling fucked out but still managing to respond to his touch. He slides a finger onto your inner thigh, where his cum has been steadily starting to drip down, gathering it onto his fingers and dragging it upwards towards your cunt. He swipes it through your seam, gathering some of your own slickness and then stuffing all of it back inside of your ravaged hole, pushing his fingers as far as they’ll go. 

“Fuck…” you whimper, arching your back. Joel’s frame pushes against you until your back is pressed into the door behind you, completely boxing you in with his body. His fingers start to work circles on your clit while the other hand comes up to palm your breast gently, rubbing it through the fabric.

“So fuckin’ pretty…” Joel murmurs, sliding a strap of your dress down your shoulder, hoping to reveal more of your skin to him. He seems to change his mind halfway through, pulling both of his hands off of you to grip at the bottom of your dress and pull upwards, lifting it off of you, leaving you standing naked before him. You tremble slightly at the feeling of being so exposed with him again, and the air conditioning of his house sending cool air dancing over your now goosebumped skin. 

Joel takes you in, his eyes roaming over your body, temptation screaming in his blown out pupils. You writhe under his gaze slightly, desperate for him to return to touching you again, but he continues to take several long moments of looking at you before gently brushing a finger up your arm. You shiver more violently now, and Joel’s hand grazes inwards, finally landing at your nipple, pinching the taut bud and pulling hard on it. You cry out, back arching against the door as your knees begin to shake a little.

“God, baby, said you were pretty, but this is fuckin’ beautiful. Fuckin’ divine, lookin’ at you like this,” Joel says, shaking his head, entranced by watching his fingers pinch and roll your hard nipples.

“Joel… please,” you whine out, your thighs clamping together desperately, feeling wetness and heat pooling between your legs again.

“Tell me, sweetheart, what d’ya need…?”

“Touch my clit, Joel.”

“All you had to do was use your words.” He grins, obliging you by resuming the circles on your clit, more languidly this time as he keeps his other hand playing mercilessly with your pink buds. It’s no surprise when the familiar swelling of pleasure rapidly builds deep inside of you at Joel’s touch, your breathing labored as you shut your eyes and lean your head back on the door, moaning quietly.

“Eyes on me, baby, need ya to look at me when you come,” Joel says, voice soft and sweet, with his sudden grip on your chin to tilt your head back down anything but. His fingers grab tightly, greedily, at your delicate chin, holding your head in place as your eyes threaten to roll back at the way his fingers are working between your legs, tight, perfect circles being rubbed on your clit. 

“Fuck, Joel, I-I’m coming,” you cry out, followed by several loud, staccato moans that drag out into long whimpers as you buck down onto his hand, body shaking and impossibly taut as you come. Stars invade your vision before it goes fully white, pleasure rocking what feels like every cell in your body. All you’re aware of for those few blissful moments are the way Joel’s fingers move, riding you through the climax, and how his name spills off your lips over and over, begging him for something you’re not even sure of yourself. 

Throughout all of it, you try to keep your eyes locked on Joel’s, but can’t help it when your eyes squeeze shut in the high. When you finally peek them open, Joel looks at you with a satisfied sigh, his tight hold on your chin turning into a softer, gentler stroking leading up to your cheek. He brushes the hair away on your forehead that’s now stuck there with the small sheen of sweat you’d worked up and tucks it behind you ear, his lips turning up into a small smile. 

He kisses you, his lips barely fluttering against yours in a soft meeting of your lips, one that isn’t meant to lead anywhere further. Just soft, loving presses over and over to your lips, and you’re finally coming out of your fucked our haze to be able to return them properly. 

“Lemme take you to bed, hm?” Joel says, pressing his forehead to yours. You nod tiredly, the pleasurable post-orgasm haze taking over your brain.

“Only if you carry me.”

Joel crouches to press his hands underneath your ass, urging you up by the thighs, so you grip his shoulders and let him lift you, wrapping your legs around his thick middle and supporting yourself around his neck. Joel can hardly think straight, with the whole of your bare skin pressed against him, clinging on tightly like he’s the only thing that matters in the entire world right now. He can feel the heat of you through his clothing, wishing with a fuzzy head that there wasn’t anything between the two of you, that he could envelop you in his own heat, that they could mingle endlessly together. He could hardly wait to get you in his bedroom and make that exact desire of his come true. 

When Joel sets you on the edge of his bed, he stands in front of you, unbuttoning his shirt slowly and intently, watching you to see your eyes lighting up as he works at the buttons. You stand up and grasp his hands gently, moving them to the side to take over, unbuttoning his shirt and kissing each new bit of skin that’s revealed on his chest. Joel finally shrugs the plaid shirt off and onto the floor, and you get to work on his jeans, pulling his belt off and through all of the loops in a slow, dragging movement. Joel chuckles a heady laugh at the way you’re so perfectly teasing him right now before you unzip his jeans and pull everything down, leaving him standing just as naked as you are.

“C-can I jus’ hold you like this?” Joel asks tentatively, despite his cock being at full attention once again from the way you’d undressed him. You can’t help but smile when Joel shows this more shy side of himself and you give him a nod, pulling away to crawl onto the bed and lay down. Neither of you have turned on any lights in the room, instead letting the moonlight spill in through the front window and illuminate enough that it casts a low, shimmering light through the room.

Joel slides in right next to you, wrapping his toned arms around you immediately, pulling you flush with his body and you wrap one leg over top of him, one hand placed flat on his chest, rubbing along the dusting of salt and pepper hair there. You both sigh contentedly at the feel of the other’s skin, so warm and soothing after spending all that time apart. The silence is comfortable, despite the both of you knowing there are mountains of things to discuss between the two of you.

Joel clears his throat, a hand rubbing up and down your forearm that rests along his torso. “Not one to ruin a perfect moment like this, but I gotta ask…” he starts, swallowing nervously. “Why’d you decide to come tonight? What… changed your mind?”

You blink a few times, biting the inside of your lip, trying to compile everything you’d been thinking recently for Joel.

“I just… did. I saw you realize that you’d made a mistake, and how much it hurt both of us. I was scared to trust you again, but you never left my side once you realized what you wanted. I’ve never stopped… wanting it, Joel. Wanting you.”

“I never did neither, darlin’. Swear it,” Joel says quietly, nuzzling his mouth onto the top of your head, breathing you in. “Thought I was savin’ you from me. Thought I couldn’t be worth it.”

“You’ve always been worth it, Joel. All the shit that happened, worrying about my parents, people judging us, job offers, any of it. I just want to be happy with you, I promise.”

“I see that now, honey, how fuckin’ selfish I actually was. ‘M so sorry,” he replies, a slight crack to his voice as he keeps it quiet.

“I know you are, you’ve shown me and said it so many times now. Thank you for not giving up,” you tell him sincerely, rubbing absentminded circles on his chest.

Joel huffs, shaking your head on his shoulder a bit. “Should be thankin’ you for that, darlin’, not the other way around. Y’should’ve given up on an old man like me.”

“Never, Joel,” you say. “Even if you are an old man.”

“Hey, now,” Joel scolds you lightly. “Only okay when I say it.”

You both break into a quick laughter, and you shift and tilt your head up, offering your lips to his, and he takes it, leaning his head slightly to meet your lips with his for a chaste kiss.

“Fine. You’re so youthful, don’t even look a day over twenty five, I swear,” you say, a smirk tugging at your lips.

“Okay, now you’re jus’ bein’ mean,” Joel says with a frown.

“Thirty?”

“Mmm, better.” Joel chuckles, and you pull yourself tighter to him, your warm heat nearing dangerously close to his cock. Your hand traces down his chest, fingers gently grazing the base of his length now. 

“Missed this so much. Missed you,” you say quietly, wrapping your fingers around his shaft, feeling him stiffen, his cock hardening from semi-soft to throbbing in just a few moments of you toying with it.

“Y’have no idea…” Joel replies breathlessly, his hips jutting up into your hand slightly as it roams over his length. 

“Wanna just feel you… please…” you whimper, feeling precum already gathering at his tip, swiping it onto your finger and into your mouth, sucking the slightly salty, tangy fluid completely clean before putting your hand back to his cock.

Joel groans out at the entire interaction, his eyes blazing with heat. “God, sweetheart, want to fuckin’ wreck your little pussy, but…” He winces in embarrassment. “My fuckin’ back… from what we did outside. Went a little too hard.” You try to stifle your smile, having just argued over him being an old man, but you reign it in. 

“That’s okay, baby. I can ride you just as hard,” you say with quirked eyebrows. Joel chuckles but splays his palms in the air quickly, as if to say be my guest.

You shift your weight, straddling Joel and placing your already dripping pussy above his cock, notching him at your entrance. You lean down to kiss him and with the same motion, you press your hips down, letting his cock slide inside effortlessly. You’ve been perpetually wet just being in his presence, and from the way you’ve been warmed up over and over tonight, he’s completely sheathed in you before you even know it. 

You groan at the fullness from this angle, and Joel does the same, his eyes fluttering slightly as he shifts underneath you. He winces slightly from his back hurting but relaxes his tensing body as you start to bounce your hips gently, testing the waters. Joel smiles up at you, his features melting into pleasure as you basically start jerking him off with your cunt, letting him lay back and enjoy the sensations.

Shit, you think suddenly. You should tell Joel about Dylan. You don’t know why it crosses your mind right in this perfect moment, when you’re both so incandescently happy to just be together, but the sudden guilt hits you right in the gut. You know you aren’t in the wrong, but you want to be honest with Joel, not have anything between the two of you if you’re going to start over like this.

You slow your movement, pressing your lips together, and Joel looks at you quizzically, noticing the change in your expression.

“This might be the dumbest fucking thing I’ve ever done to say this right now, but I have to tell you something,” you blurt out, and Joel’s eyebrows draw together, his eyes slightly widening in concern.

He rubs your lower back, sensing your hesitation. “Go ahead, sweetheart,” he says softly.

“When… we…w-weren’t talking, I slept with someone. It was just once, it was not even… it wasn’t anything, but I did do it. When I was drunk. And it wasn’t even any g -” you ramble breathlessly, still moving yourself up and down on Joel’s cock. He tightly grasps your hips, pulling you down, hips flush with his, stopping your movements.

“Woah, woah, relax, relax, baby. Okay, it’s okay,” he says.

“It is?” you ask, wide eyed.

“Don’t exactly love it, y’know how I feel about you bein’ mine and only mine, but I can’t say I blame ya. Left you high and dry out there.”

“Right…” you say quietly, still incredulous that Joel isn’t completely freaking out right now from this news.

“Gonna fuckin’ kill whoever it is, but ‘sides that,” Joel chuckles genially, “Don’t feel bad, baby. Jus’ makes me wanna fuck you even fuckin’ harder, make you forget that even happened.” He lets a small growl slip from deep in his throat, clutching onto the plush skin of your hips and ass, his long fingers spreading along both areas and kneading.

You start to grind your hips a little again, lifting slightly up and back down, beginning a steady rhythm on him.

“Oh really? Think you could?” you ask low and teasingly. “Honestly, it wasn’t any good, if that helps.”

“No? Not any good, huh?” Joel grunts a little as he lifts his hips up into you, unable to help himself despite his back aching and screaming at him.

You shake your head, pursing your lips as you continue your slow pace on top of him. “Mm-mm. Didn’t even get me off…” You run a hand down Joel’s chest slowly. “Shame, really, that no other man could ever live up to you.”

“Fuck…” Joel curses under his breath. “Gonna give a man an ego, sayin’ things like that.” Joel pauses, just enjoying the way you’re gyrating on his cock for a few moments. His eyes snap open again and he looks at you with a furrowed brow. “Didn’t get you off at all?”

You shake your head slowly and deliberately as you ride him. 

“Fuck, need to do good to you tonight, then, baby,” he says, his voice slightly strained from the emotions he’s feeling. It’s a mixture of desperation, sadness, and fucking anger at what happened. How anyone could get a chance to be with you, to taste and fuck that sweet pussy of yours and not even give you what you deserved, it made Joel feel the feral side of him clawing it’s way out. His hand reaches up, cupping the side of your face before sliding around to the back of your head and pushing your head down so that it’s close to his mouth, forehead practically resting on his shoulder. He holds your hair tightly in his grip, letting his lips brush against the skin of your ear. 

“Whatever you need to do to me, I’m yours… I want you to fuckin’ come so hard you never come back down, that you can’t never think of another man again ‘sides me. Want your fuckin’ knees shakin’, cunt drippin’, fuckin’ soaked f’me, squeezin my cock so hard, so full you can’t even breathe…” Joel mutters out, sending your entire body shivering and convulsing with the combination of his words and the vibration of his deep rasp right next to your ear. 

You spasm your hips down onto him, pussy clenching at his words and feeling his cock throbbing and pulsing inside of you. “F-fuck…” you whimper, nearly reaching your high from his words alone. You pull your head back slightly with Joel’s permission, his tight grasp on your hair lightening up, and smirk down at him. 

“Y’sure you can do that, old man? With your bad back and everything?” Your lips press together so tightly to repress your laughter that you feel like you’re going to pop. You begin to ride him faster as you speak, feeling all of you bouncing, your tits dancing appealingly right in his face. Joel lifts his head, takes one into his mouth and sucks harder than he ever has, and you gasp loudly, unable to pull away. He lets it go with a small pop and looks up at you, darkness flashing in his eyes. 

“Gonna fuckin’ wish you never said that,” Joel states before he sits up, groaning quickly with the effort and then deciding its well worth it, grasps your back and flips you around, slamming you down into the bed with him. His entire weight is on you, straddling you, the movement from flipping pushing his cock so deep that you squeal out in both pain and pleasure. He ruts into you hard now, lifting both of your legs to his shoulders, putting you in a tight, cramped position where they’re trapped between your body and his now. 

All you can feel is Joel, Joel, Joel - his cock pressing against your spongy part inside again, his sweat intermingling with yours, his ragged breaths as he pounds into you with no mercy. You cry out, tears stinging your eyes from how fucking deep he is, you think he’s hitting your cervix at this point and it’s a sensation you haven’t experienced before, but it’s tearing you up from the inside out how good it feels. You can’t do anything but whimper as Joel asserts himself over you, trying to make the words he whispered in your ear become a reality. 

He leans even closer, the angle completely devastating you as a few tears slip free from where they’ve been brimming in your eyes. “Tell me how good I am to you, hm? Wanna hear you praise this fuckin’ cock,” Joel says, his voice so smooth and controlled for how hard he’s ravaging your body right now.

“So good, Joel, fuck… your c-cock… you’re so good to me.”

“Again,” he commands, turning his head to bite down onto one of your legs that are framing near his face. You whimper loudly, barely able to even think of the words to say, let alone speak them.

“N-never want another c-cock. Can only take y-yours, so good to me, so f-fuckin’ big and full, Joel.” Your face scrunches up slightly, a few more tears rolling down your cheeks as Joel snaps his hips into your over and over, your insides coiling with heat and everything good when he hits the perfect spots inside of you.

“That’s right,” he groans desperately, clearly as affected by your praise as you are his. Nearly effortlessly for his back hurting him, he pulls out of your cunt, leaving it squeezing at nothing. He quickly looks down at your fluttering, fucked out cunt and spits quickly in-between your legs before he turns your body belly down on the bed, your legs shaking as you bring them down and nearly melt into the mattress. You’re shaking, your knees and thighs completely quaking just as Joel had wanted, and you’re thankful for the break. Joel’s hands grasp either of your ass and lift it slightly off the bed, angling himself behind you and slamming right back into your cunt. You nearly scream, the stretch of him all over again nearly too much with how heightened everything feels. 

“‘M I still so good for you, baby?” he asks. You can only nod, and breathe out a quiet, raspy “yes”, your face turned off the mattress to try to look back at him.

“Ready to come, angel? I can feel you, so fuckin’ tight, practically beggin’ for it, ain’t ya?” Joel says, his voice less controlled now, and you can tell he’s just as close as you are. He slides a hand between your body and the mattress, leaning himself closer, changing the angle of himself inside of you and it’s perfect, holy shit it’s perfect.

His finger finds your clit in a second, flicking and rubbing circles frantically as your body writhes and bounces into his thrusts. You moan over and over, his name, expletives, anything you can think of to finally reach your high. The tension low in your belly snaps, and you go off the edge, screaming Joel’s name along the way as your legs shake underneath him and your cunt tightens impossibly taut around him, fluttering and spasming. Joel curses, pushing in as deep as possible while he comes along with you, his vision going white as he grunts your name and claims you with his hot ropes of cum spilling inside of you. He relishes in the feeling, the way you take all of him in a moment like this, moaning louder as soon as you feel that he’s coming along with you. 

You continue to tremble, trying to come down from the way Joel has just turned your world upside down. You should have known - when Joel says something, he means it, and the way you’d just went higher than the god damned heavens just now proves it.

You let out soft, whimpering sounds as you lay there, body completely slack and feeling unable to even lift your head until you regain some composure.

“Shit…” Joel murmurs, concerned, his body wrapping around yours in a second. “Y’okay, baby? You hurt?”

“N-no,” you croak out, trying to give him some semblance of a head shake. “Just… j-ust…”

“So fucked out f’me,” Joel teases, wiggling his eyebrows a bit as he feels the situation lighten. If you had the energy, you’d punch him on the arm, but you just groan in agreement. Joel laughs, nuzzling his nose onto your shoulder. “Just how I fuckin’ like it, means I did you like you deserve, sweetheart.”

“You can say that again… I mean, fuck, Joel.” You giggle a little bit, finally feeling your senses coming back to you as you try to roll over.

“Say the same to you, so perfect f’me tonight, baby. Promise I’ll take it slow next time. Give you all the sweet stuff,” Joel laughs at his own words and you roll your eyes.

“You’d better, I’m gonna barely be able to walk for days, swear to God,” you scoff.

“Jus’ means I get to take care of ya. My poor baby can’t even walk,” Joel clicks his tongue, “Cock jus’ too big f’ya?” he teases, and you let out a disapproving noise, trying to squirm away from him in irritation, but he holds you even tighter. “Jus’ admit it, s’okay honey. Not everyone can take it.” Joel says tauntingly, shrugging nonchalantly to add on to the teasing torture he’s lashing on you.

“You know I can take it, Miller. Fuckin’ better than anyone,” you snip back, trying to turn away from him still, but Joel manages to scoop your body into his, spooning you now, crossing his arms tightly over your chest.

“Damn fuckin’ right,” Joel admits, giving up the charade. He kisses the back of your head, trailing them down to your neck. “My perfect girl.”

“Yours,” you echo back, snuggling your body into his and feeling so at peace you could nearly cry. This is where you were meant to be, right here in Joel’s arms. Always.

taglist: @paleidiot@mumma-moonchild@soph55@chicville03@joelsversion@feliciab1990@fellinfromthetop@gossipgirl-03@sarap-77@blueseastorm@akah565​ @pattwtf @scarlettthefierce

#some of the things i wrote here i will not be held accountable for i swear #i missed these two so much i needed them to have a lil bit of depraved sex #or a lot #anyways #fic: closer #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal x reader

[theshadowrealmitself]

At all times I’m thinking about how Dani is different from Vlad and Danny

Like Vlad’s the ghost of a friend you lost touch with, still technically alive, still technically there, but he haunts your memory, like he can’t move on from the past (and neither can you, that’s why you never picked up the phone and called him, was it guilt? maybe, but you know either way you never would’ve reached out first)

Danny’s the ghost your kid who you don’t understand anymore, he haunts your house, drifting in and out of doorways, he looks like your kid, he sounds like your kid, but he’s,, different. changed. (more guilt, your fault again, it was your portal that keeps doing this, you know he’s only different because he went through something you’ll never experience, but you keep causing)

But Dani? you don’t know Dani, she haunts nothing, she isn’t lingering here, a bitter reminder of something that used to be nice, she’s new, and sudden, and she’s loud, and excited for life (there’s no guilt, but oddly, you still feel like you caused her in some way)

#DP #danny phantom #dani phantom #danny fenton #dani fenton #Dani DP #vlad masters #vlad plasmius #Plasmius DP #Jack or Maddie or both pov you decide #oh yeah no energy to do the drabble I’m excited about writing but this pops out when I want to talk about Dani? #lil writing thing idk #wrote this while waiting for my clothes to finish drying

[stevieharringtonwifeguy]

fae!steve who, practically the moment he learns what he can do, sets up a trap curse for his parents. if they ever kick him out and disown him, then the second he exits their threshold he'll take all their luck with him. he'd feel bad about cursing his parents, but the point of a trap curse is that it doesn't activate unless the targets of the curse do something to meet its requirements. if his parents were just good people, good parents, then nothing bad will ever happen to them.

but they really can't seem to help themselves. steve guesses he saw this coming.

he tells eddie about it, when eddie comes to pick him and his one allowed box of clothes and shit from the harrington house. eddie'd offered to curse them, 'might as well make good on my whole evil satanist reputation', but steve told him he already had it covered. told him about the trap. he's never seen eddie look so proud and so sad at the same time.

and sure enough, all good luck leaves the harrington household when steve does. a random irs check reveals harrington sr's years of tax fraud, and his business goes bankrupt trying to pay the fines. someone leaks pictures of one of mrs harringtons senior aides on a drug filled bender in the city, ruining both her campaigns squeaky clean image and her chances at reelection in the fall. several of mr harringtons former secretaries sue for sexual harassment, while seemingly every other woman he's ever come in contact with simultaneously sues for child support.

and steve just watches. he's happy now, living with eddie in a small apartment with their cat and the various small woodland creatures eddie keeps trying to sneak in (so far steve's had to kick out three raccoons, a possum, a skunk, two bats, and a coyote. they've all been very understanding when he's explained the situation to them but eddie still acts like a kicked puppy every time he does it). eddie keeps a little shoebox under their bed with newspaper clippings of every terrible thing to befall the mighty harringtons, says it's in case steve ever wants the reminder that he got one over on them in the end. a reminder that steve's happy and they're not.

steve doesn't need it. he feels it, every time the curse does something to them, something clicking in his chest like one of those alarm clocks with the flaps that flip over from one minute to the next. he wonders if it'll ever feel like too much. if he'll ever think they've been punished enough. they've had a rough couple years, it's sort of only a matter of time before something happens that's unlucky enough to injure or kill them.

steve thinks if he was human, maybe he'd care. maybe he'd look at that shoebox with the guilt eddie seems to be half-expecting every time he brings it out. but he's not, so he doesn't. he set the trap, but his 'parents' are the ones who sprung it.

they really should have known better than to cross a changeling.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #fae!steve au #witch!eddie munson #stranger things #i'll be honest this is just a lil one bc i actually meant for it to go on the end of that one where he finds out his parents knew #and i just. totally forgot. this is why we do outlines kids #my fics #not even really a fic it's more like. several paragraphs that i forgot to add to a fic #someone was like ooh does eddie curse them?? on the other post and i thought like no?? steve does?? i wrote it right the- #oh my god i forgot to write that part #comedy gold #we love having a functional brain

[lethalchiralium]

The lights were bright, the pain in your stomach barely there as you opened your eyes. You immediately recognized the statures of Price and Soap, then Gaz appeared from behind one of them. You kept blinking, looking around; not seeing Simon.

“Where’s Simon?” You murmured, slowly blinking at your husband’s team. You couldn’t notice their mannerisms due to the heavy sedation you were fighting, but all three stiffened. “He was…uh.” You licked your lips and weakly raised your hand to roll it. “He walked with me until the OR, he’s gonna miss time he could be holding his daughter.”

Price gently placed a hand on the side of the little bassinet his friend’s newborn baby was in, and gazed at his friend’s wife with a fake comforting smile. “He’s just getting something to eat, he’ll be in soon. Just go back to sleep.”

You nodded, hand resting on your lap before your eyes fluttered closed. “Wake me up when he gets back in, okay?” It only took a few more seconds before you fell back asleep, and Price turned to look at Soap and Gaz.

Simon wouldn’t be back.

Three months ago, Price had held Simon’s dead body, covered in his Lieutenant’s blood while screaming for a medic.

#THIS IS NOT RELATED TO THE HAPPINESS SERIES #just a lil thing i wrote a month ago #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley cod #simon ghost riley call of duty #simon ghost riley x afab!reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley x fem!reader #simon riley #simon riley mw2 #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x wife!reader #simon riley cod #simon riley x wife!reader #simon riley call of duty #simon riley x afab!reader #simon riley x fem!reader #simon riley x f!reader #lethalchiralium #lethal chiralium

[mistykaru]

i got stuff from the csp asset store and i wanted to play with it so this is a mess but i did have fun and i kinda dig the vibes

#andreil #aftg #the foxhole court #all for the game #i just thought the lil computer window borders were so cute #also okay listen my vision: #lmao i just wrote college au and completely forgot the canon story is in college pls #but like alt where neil does the photos bc he gets a camera #art majors???? #idk what's going on my vision is gone i am blind now #it was like a we pass each other on campus and a double take with warning signs is happening #i just thought the warning signs looked kinda cool #i also wanted the wavey thing to be a heartbeat w a skippy in it but i didnt know how to make it look nice it wasn't cooperating #and honestly i was getting tired of trying to figure out what should go in the space #i am not an aesthetic person idk how people do the fancy lil edits all the time #i draw i dont do graphic design i dont have the frog within necessary #myart #anyway im running away now bc idk how i feel about this bye

[eddies-ashtray]

“do you think i’ll be okay?”

“hm?” eddie hums, head turning to face you on the blanket.

you were laid out in his little front yard (more of a small patchy rectangle of grass in front of his trailer, but still), gazing up at the inky sky. there were still some thin, wispy clouds up there; floating around past the winking stars.

“what do you mean?”

you can feel him staring a hole into your cheek, but you refuse to look at him, keeping your eyes on big dipper, tracing the lines between the stars with your eyes. you fear that if you look eddie in the eyes, you’ll burst into tears.

crickets hum in the grass around you as you sigh deeply.

“just. in general,” you speak into the sky, voice a whisper.

you hear eddie shift beside you on the blanket and then he comes into view in your periphery; laying sideways with his elbow propping him up so he can look at you properly. you still don’t look at him.

“why wouldn’t you be okay?” he asks in a tone you can’t quite describe; something like concern and confusion maybe.

“i don’t know…sometimes i just-it doesn’t feel like things will turn out alright for me. like i’m gonna be trapped in a cycle forever or something,” you say, and then add, “i don’t know.”, unsure of exactly how you’re feeling; it’s like everything comes to the surface at once, emotions mixing, and then it all becomes muddled in your mind. beyond comprehension.

“hey,” eddie coaxes gently, attempting to get you to look at him.

your lip wobbles slightly as tears blur the sky into a vague black blob.

eddie guides you to look at him, holding one side of your face tenderly in one big palm. you blink, releasing two fat tears, and they glide down your face until they converge underneath your chin.

he looks at you seriously then, brows knitting together, upset at your upset.

“everything is gonna be okay. i promise,” eddie assures firmly.

more tears fall down your face then.

“but what if-”

“mm-mm,” he hums softly, brushing stray tears away with his thumb. “you’re gonna be more than okay. and you’re gonna look back on this and think: i can’t believe i ever thought i wouldn’t be okay.”

you sniffle at his kind words, staring into his eyes so dark in the night; almost a similar shade to the sky beyond the clouds. though the sky seems to have cleared up slightly now.

sitting up, eddie pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly to his chest. it grounds you, being held like this.

you think you just might be okay.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x gn reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson hurt/comfort #eddie munson blurb #i was feeling like shit last night so i wrote this lil thing

[jadewritesficshere]

Presenting

Alpha!Steve Harrington x reader

Synopsis: You present for first time as an omega

A/N: hello all! So I know there are many different types of A/B/O fics out there. Some people say ruts/heats happen once a year, once a month, twice a year, etc. There is some discussion on the exact private parts omegas vs alphas have.

Well, what I envision may be similar or completely different. This is my take. This is my fic. I have a whole lil world for this, and have a few mini blurbs/oneshots planned. This is the first, which I've struggled to have the courage to post since March. Also: reader and Steve are over 21 in this.

Enjoy.

Contents: mostly a bit of backstory on a/b/o dynamics, fluff, first presentation. Gender of Reader is not specified but Steve does call them Honey.

Steve opened the door to the house, grumbling as he juggled the groceries in his arms. He should have taken more then one trip, but with the light rain falling, he didn't want to stay out in the cold more then he had to. The door swung open into the unlit hallway. Steve wasn't surprised. Eddie was at work, and Robin had plans with Vickie. The only person he was unsure of was you, but you had been working nights and it wasn't unusual for you to be asleep at noon. What was unusual was the smell that hit Steve's nose. His nose twitched and he frowned as he tried to identify it, before shrugging it off and heading to the kitchen to put groceries away.

Steve grimaced as he looked in the fridge and saw the plastic container holding Eddie's lunch from last week. The lime green jello Robin had made wiggled as Steve reached past and grabbed the container. Without a second glance, Steve tossed it in the trash can and continued to empty the fridge of old food and replace it with the groceries he had bought. Steve hummed to himself as he thought about what he could make for supper.

A noise from the other room made Steve pause. It had sounded like one of the closet doors had come off their track again. You must have woken up and were getting changed. Steve's heart thumped a little extra at the thought of you, causing Steve to curse himself. He had tried to hide his feelings for you, not wanting to make the living situation awkward if you didn't reciprocate. Eddie gave him shit about how strong his scent was when you came near. Of course it wasn't intentional, biology and all that, but Steve couldn't be mad when it had deterred other Alphas from you. Steve just didn't want you to feel awkward, especially when he glared and growled. He didn't want you to think he was upset because of you. Steve wanted to shower you in love and affection, but you weren't his. You weren't anyone's. You were just you. Amazing, beautiful, talented you.

Robin and you were both Betas. As such, you could smell the scents from Omegas and Alphas, but it was no stronger then if you got close to a flower and sniffed or the spritz of cologne or perfume. Eddie was another alpha, but took suppressants (which he forgot to take half the time, causing his ruts to be a little more unpredictable...). Eddie confided in the group that he was going to stop taking suppressants after this next rut, but he had taken them for so long because he hadn't wanted to seem like an aggressive alpha like his father (who was currently facing life in prison). Steve's parents were both alphas, so it wasn't a surprise Steve was.

Presenting as an alpha or omega was strongly linked to genetics. Regardless of the parent presentation of alpha or omega, if one parent was and the other was a beta there was a possiblity. If both parents had presented, then it was extremely likely for the pup to present as well. There were, of course, cases of the pup not presenting and being a beta, but it was unlikely. Thanks to more modern technology, betas could reproduce with another beta. These pups had low chances of presenting, but was not impossible.

However with presenting were the stereotypes. Steve couldn't care less, agreeing with Robin that a lot of the archetypes were heavily influenced by societal norms of feminine versus masculine, and that there was nothing "wrong" with an alpha that wanted to be a housewife or an omega that wanted to be a CEO. Since the four of you living together, Steve has embraced the more "omega" traits he has, feeling more settled and free than when he had to live up to his parents expectations.

Steve remembers the day he presented, hearing his parent's praise. He then remembers being left to his own devices to try and figure it out by himself. At least they handed him a pamphlet and had stocked the kitchen. Steve learned a lot from that stupid pamphlet. You could present as young as 12 all the way to 25. The first day of your presentation, the genitalia would shape more to your presentation and your scent glands would come in. By the end of the second day, the genitalia would be formed to handle and work with the opposite presentation. By the third day, you would endure a typical rut or heat like you would for the rest of your life. Your first rut or heat would be unable to produce pups. The entire presentation would only last from 3-5 days.

Steve shook his head, wondering why thoughts of that stupid pamphlet had come to mind. Steve stretched as he closed the door to the fridge, the calendar catching his eye. Steve's plain black misspelled scrawl at the end of the month noted his rut would arrive. Robin's green handwriting beneath simply said "sucker" to which Eddie had replied "suck her amiright". Steve shook his head as a grin spread across his lips. Eddie's red haphazard scrawl was written on the next weekend with question marks, indicating his rut if he had taken the suppressants correctly. Your blue "good luck" beneath reminded Steve that Eddie was going to come off the suppressants (did he get a cake for that? Beer?).

Steve left the kitchen making an extra note to grab snacks that had higher nutrients and protein for their upcoming ruts. Steve paused in the hallway as the smell from earlier hit Steve again. It smelled like that honey body wash Robin and you were obsessed with, but also had a hint of something that was more familiar. It grew stronger as Steve walked further down the hall. Steve paused outside your open door and inhaled; the scent being extremely strong here. Steve's eyes widened as he realized that familiar scent was you. He had never smelled you this strongly before, what with Betas not really producing a strong scent.

Steve peered into the room, concerned something was wrong. He was wracking his brain trying to think of what could cause your scent to be this strong. Your walls were filled with Polaroids of your friends, posters of your favorite bands, and some paintings Robin had created. It wasn't as covered as Eddie's, but it showed your personality. The carpet had some clothes haphazardly strewn about, but overall you kept the room clean. Your bed, were Steve had expected to find you after your shift, was empty. Your pillow was gone, which was odd, but maybe it had fallen off from your tossing and turning. Steve blinked a few times before pushing the door open more and leaning in. Your room was definitely empty. Your closet was open, stuffed to the brim with clothes. He could see your desk in the far corner of the room was not being sat at.

Steve frowned to himself and looked at the shut door opposite your room, the bathroom. Oh...You must have gone to the bathroom. Steve went to knock before pausing, he didn't want to interrupt you if you were busy (he knows how much you and Robin hate getting interrupted when in the bathroom, regardless of what you are doing). Steve shrugs and continues leisurely to the next door, his room. He throws open the door without a care-

And nearly keels over. The scent was overpowering here, which confused Steve as he thought it had been you. A whimper from the closet made Steve's head snap in that direction. The closet was closed, but uneven; the door was off the track and barely hanging on. Steve crept to the door and opened it, gasping.

You were curled into the fetal position on his closet floor. On top of his clothes, hangers bare above you. You had pulled his jacket on top of you, and were laying in a pile. Your head laying on your "missing" pillow. The polo he had worn yesterday was clutched in your hands, held close to your face that was scrunched up in discomfort. Steve stood there, jaw wide open, as he tried to understand what his eyes were seeing. He cleared his throat, causing your eyes to snap open. "Stevie?" You whisper, peering up at him with glassy eyes. Steve crouched down to be on your level as you shift to sit up from laying down.

"What's going on?" Steve finally asks, feeling like the biggest idiot. His brain screaming the answer at him, but he couldn't believe it. His brain bringing that pamphlet back to his mind with fanfare. He had to hear you say it he-

"I dont know!" Your voice cracked and your chin wavered, tears filling your eyes. "I dont feel right and i couldnt get comfortable and all I could think of was you and i came in here and it felt right but everything was too much so the closet was perfect and i just i dont-" your rambling continued as you started crying, barely able to speak as sobs overcome you. The scent rolling off you shifted, indicating your distress. Steve's eyes widen and he drew you into his arms," hey, hey. It's okay. It'll be okay." You relax into his arms, nose tucked into the crook of his neck.

Steve feels your body shudder as your cries slow, inhaling slowly at his scent gland. The trill you let out shocking you and confirming Steve's thoughts. Steve hesitantly runs his hand up and down your spine in a comforting motion. "Honey...you're presenting. You're, " Steve clears his throat," you're an Omega." You shake your head "no" against his neck. "You can present until you're 25. Hell, I think the oldest person they know of was 40. It isn't an exact science-" Steve pauses, realizing Robin must be rubbing off on him as he's rambling.

Steve leans his back against the wall and shifts you around so you are between his legs. You are curled into his chest, nose still firmly pressed against his neck. Your tears have gone. Your scent is overpowering to Steve, completely entrancing him. A hint of spice, like nutmeg, mixed with that honey bodywash. Steve finds it ironic that he calls you Honey and here you are smelling so strong of it.

"I'm presenting," you mumble pulling back to look in Steve's eyes. "How will that work?" Steve hesitates, mouth opening slightly, before you cover his mouth with your hand," I don't mean like how omegas work. I get that. I guess...with like you and Eddie." You slowly lower your hand," I don't want to cause an issue."

"You won't." Steve says definitively, "Eddie always says he's married to rock and roll. We've never been the type to fight over territory. This is his house but it's also mine. We're all in a pack and we are all equal." "Even if I'm less tha-" "hey!" Steve's brow furrows and he holds your face in his hands," You are not less than. Anyone who thinks omegas are less than are idiots. You are not less than an alpha, and anyone who believes that bullshit needs some sense knocked into them."

You bite your lip but nod. "It's the first day right?" Steve asks, wondering if it's crossing a line. It is highly personal when an omega goes into heat. You don't seem to care, nodding your agreement. "Well, then today will be the easiest day. We can get a game plan set up tonight when Robin and Eddie come home. Get you some blankets and pillows. Get you snacks."

Steve shifts in his spot and your hands dart out and grab his biceps, "Don't leave!" Steve smiles softly at you," I won't. Not right now. Come here." Steve holds his arms open again for you. You slowly lean in and let him envelope you in his hold. Secure. Warm. Feeling entirely safe in his arms, you drift off to sleep. Steve can feel his heart bursting with love for you. A part of him knows that if you sought him out, you cared somewhat for him. But the other part screamed at him how he couldn't tell you his feelings yet. He didn't want you to feel like he was taking advantage of your new presentation.

So for now, he would be content with just sitting and holding you. Safe. Secure. Warm.

#The first of many lil fics but I wanted a basis of this world so that is why this is so descriptive #The next won't be #And yes there is no smut in this one but there will be in future ones but cmon you just learned life changing news #And your parts are still presenting as I wrote so #Is this the best NO but its a glimpse of what's to come #This has just been sitting here and I've had 0 guts to post so I said screw it I'll post it and then just continue with the universe #A/B/O dynamics #Alpha!Steve Harrington #Alpha!Steve Harrington x reader #Steve Harrington x reader #Steve Harrington x you #Steve Harrington x y/n #Steve Harrington/reader #Steve Harrington/you #Stranger things #Jade is Talking

[ghoulodont]

Hemostatic Effect

Mushy May 2024 — first aid. Rain and Dewdrop run into each other before the show.

Relationship: Raindrop Characters: Dewdrop, Rain Words: 1.2k

Mushy May prompts by @forlorn-crows

Read below or on AO3

It’s just after soundcheck and backstage is teeming with activity. Crew and musicians alike scamper from place to place. Tools and equipment fill every available surface, electrical cords snake through the underbelly. It’s controlled chaos — just barely.

Rain lifts the neck of his bass, an entirely mechanical action, and pulls the strap off over his head, turning to place it on the rack behind him. He jumps in surprise when the motion is interrupted by an unexpected obstacle.

“What the fuck,” Dewdrop exclaims, apparently just as surprised. He’s stood directly between Rain and the guitar rack, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

At the same time, their voices overlapping, Rain gasps out, “Dew, I’m sorry!” He snatches his instrument away from the point of collision, holding it close to his chest.

They’re both frozen in place staring at each other, two equally startled creatures suddenly pulled out of their busy worlds. Dew’s brow is furrowed in mild confusion. A thick stripe of bright red blood emerges from his nose and streams down his face, pouring over the border of his upper lip and continuing toward his chin.

“Oh no,” Rain states dumbly.

Dew moves his hand to his mouth, brushing it inquisitively against his lips, and then pulls it back, his gaze dropping to the pads of his fingers, now coated in red. There’s a beat of stillness, a visible moment of mental gears turning, before he presses his hand tightly over his nose.

Rain leaps into motion, as if a switch has been flipped. He shoves his bass into the rack, heedless of the way the neck clatters in the slot, then grabs Dew by the arm and sets off in search of the nearest bathroom.

He can feel eyes on the two of them as they march through the curtain-lined, black painted wing and into the much brighter backstage hallway. He glances back, and Dew’s hand is still held to his face, trying in vain to staunch the flow of blood. It oozes through his fingers and out from under his palm.

The hinges of the bathroom door squeal as Rain throws it open. He guides Dew up to the edge of the sink, a firm hand on his hip, and Dew leans forward over it, free hand braced against the side. One splattered blot of blood lands in the basin, then another, drops diving off of his chin down toward the porcelain below.

Rain grabs a handful of scratchy brown paper towels from the dispenser on the wall and presses them against the center of Dew’s face. Dew drags his hand out from underneath the crumpled wad of them and places it on top, continuing to apply pressure, smearing red across their tangle of fingers.

They stay like that for a long moment. Dew’s open-mouth breaths, fluttering the loose edges of the paper towels, are warm against Rain’s palm.

“I’ve got it,” Dew eventually mumbles, muffled by layers of paper and overlapping hands.

Rain eases his pressure on Dew’s nose, but doesn’t pull away completely, his fingers ghosting over Dew’s like he might need to step in at a moment’s notice.

“I’ve got it,” Dew repeats, a little louder this time, more forceful.

Rain drops his hand to his side. “Are you okay?”

“I think so.”

“I’m really sorry.”

Dew shakes his head. He leans forward over the sink a little further. A lingering drop of blood falls from his chin, knocked loose by the motion.

“I wasn’t paying attention. I didn’t see you,” Rain frets. “I’m sorry.”

Dew shakes his head again. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Dew doesn’t answer. Instead, he carefully pulls his handful of paper towels from his face, head still tipped over the sink. When the flow of blood doesn’t continue, no further sanguine drops joining the ones already oozing toward the drain, he stands upright. He brushes his hair away from his face, his one free hand dragging over the top of his head.

Rain releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He makes eye contact with Dew through the mirror. With blood smeared all across the bottom half of his face, below his nose, around his mouth, over his chin, he looks like a lion that’s been feeding on a fresh carcass.

He grins, just briefly, the lion showing its fangs, when he sees Rain’s concerned expression, eyebrows raised in worry, in regret. He turns and throws the bloodied paper towels in the trash — probably a biohazard, but this dingy bathroom has no doubt seen worse. He looks up at Rain directly, outside of the reflection.

“I’m really sorry,” Rain can’t help but repeat. He raises both hands and cups them around Dew’s bloodstained face.

Dew’s expression, his response — a small, knowing smirk, a slight raise of his eyebrows — begs a question. It feels more like Rain is the lion, now, and Dew is his prey, bloodied and enticing.

Rain leans in and brushes his lips over Dew’s. The rusted smell that fills the room is so much stronger here, so near to the source. Pressing their lips closer, he can taste it, sharp salt and metal, the juice of some aromatic fruit that he wants to devour.

But when he feels the press of Dew’s nose against his cheek, a little spark of fear jolts through his chest. He pulls himself back slightly, to the side, avoiding, places a gentle kiss against the corner of his mouth. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmurs into his skin.

“You won’t,” Dew assures.

Rain kisses him the way he wants to, with the intent to consume. The inside of Dew’s mouth is permeated with the same taste, more intense, closer, echoing in the cavern of airway in a way that feels obscene.

When Dew breaks away with a gasping inhale, Rain presses kisses against his jaw, lips parted to taste stray red smudges. He bends further down, nose brushing against his neck, until he can drag his tongue slowly over the skin there, licking upwards, capturing a still-wet drip that had trickled halfway to his collarbone.

Dew exhales a quiet whine at the sensation, hands grasping at Rain’s shirt near his waist. He tips his head down, seeking out Rain’s lowered face, and Rain obliges, pulling him back into a kiss, as fervent as before, the taste of blood on both of their tongues.

A knock at the door interrupts them, rapid and loud. They both jump, mouths separating like they’ve been shocked.

Dew quickly turns on the sink and grabs a fresh paper towel, falling into a charade of someone cleaning up their own blood. He splashes a little water on his face and dabs lightly at the ghost of a red rivulet, an outline where the blood closest to the edge had dried first, with no real urgency.

They share one more moment through the mirror, one more knowing glance, before Rain turns, takes a steadying breath, and opens the door.

#mushy may 2024 #ghost band fanfic #cw blood #very very sorry its so late but i ummmm. was unwell #but how could i not do this one of all the days #imo its not my best work. a lil sloppy. but i hope u like it #maybe ill edit it later. <- never edits things later #fic i wrote

[aftg-rot]

Andrew Minyard and Obsession ~

I have been having some thoughts about Andrew and his unhealthily intense protective nature over Kevin, and then Neil. His compulsive desire to be the keepers of Aaron and Nicky can be characterised - not entirely, but mostly - by the hyperfixation on finding family after being in the foster system for so long, but the possessiveness to the point of obsession with Kevin, and ultimately with Neil, is different. As Neil says when he was assigned to look after Kevin while Andrew was away, it is possible to do so without becoming his shadow. Neil was realistically achieving the same goals as Andrew, without being with Kevin 24/7.

Because Andrew himself does not seem to have any hobbies, creative outlets or interests that are notable, I like the idea that the intensity in which he follows Kevin and Neil around is his way out of his version of the mundane. Their intense dedication towards many things is enough to break his apathy towards everything. It could be a coincidence that for both Kevin and Neil, and in turn Andrew, it is Exy. In another time and space, it could have been two different things for the two boys. Possibly, in reality Kevin and Neil are right and there is no way that Andrew can be that good at something without having some form of fascination with the sport he "does not care about." But the main factor is that both of them WANT something. They have a deep and contagious passion, they have an underlying drive for their feelings and actions, something Andrew does not have. 

Andrew, whether it is a lingering result of the medication, a trauma response, or simply who he is as a person, feels he cannot connect on any level with anyone else. The only connection he has with Aaron and Nicky is their family relationship, and shared history, but aside from that there is no emotional bond or healthy attachment. Andrew has latched onto Kevin and Neil's want and drive because it was a nice reprieve from the indifference, or a subtle lesson in what wanting and needing feels like. 

Falling for Neil and "wanting" him was probably the first developed emotional connection that Andrew had felt in a long time, with only Kevin's obsessive drive for Exy being a suitable substitute. Andrew's insulting of Neil every time he shows his true single mindedness towards Exy is very rarely said with malice, because deep down, Andrew either appreciates Neil's skill to remain driven during times of trauma, or is envious of both Neil and Kevin's ability to have such a force in their lives that makes it worth something.

It is mentioned that Neil offers Andrew his obsession to hold Andrew over until he finds one of his own, but I really think that is what happens. But not just his obsession with Exy, but both Kevin and Neil's ability to persevere and connect with other people, in both positive and negative ways despite what has happened to them. Andrew's codependent way of interacting with specific people is his way of attempting to fit in with the world around him emotionally, and co-opting his closest relationships' interests and obsessions is a method of connecting in an interpersonal way.

#here is my first lil essay which i wrote while making notes for my podcast #i have a VERY bias opinion of these boys especially bc myself i struggle immensely with finding things to be interested in and often fixate #on people and their obsessions #but i just think its interesting how kevins interest is exy and neils is kevin and exy and andrews is neil and kevin and as a result its ex #so this is essay one be nice to me pls im sensitive #mine #aftg #all for the game #neil josten #andrew minyard #the foxhole court #nora sakavic #andreil #kevin day #text #aftg discussion #my essay