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nexusnyx · 1 year

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miss sunshine

pre-outbreak Joel Miller x neighbor!reader [7.3k] summary: He's always been out of reach. A fantasy. Joel was too much of everything—too handsome, too friendly, too una-fucking-vailable for any of you. Too bad his kid adores you. (What a blessing.) Too bad she uses you as a scapegoat and lands him right on his door. One bottle of wine, and Joel shows you he might be closer than you thought. 📝 I wanted to try something different. Less hurt, less end-of-the-world bullshit. Let me know your thoughts. Reblogs and comments are much appreciated. ⚠️Smut. Minors, DNI. Explicit depictions of sex, oral (f and m receiving), riding, missionary, passionate neighbors sex, yay.

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤTexas, Summer of 2002.

When the bell rings, you think it's best to ignore it.

Living alone equals a lot of privileges, but the ability to go out alone and answer the door on a random Wednesday evening was not one of them. You're wearing compromising clothes and a robe, the bottle of wine you craved was finally open, and the last thing you wanted was to be murdered before enjoying it.

Then, you hear it. Your name, followed by, "It's Miller. Joel."

Fuck.

Well—this is exactly how many of your dreams started. Although this wouldn't go like them, for him, you'd open the door.

His eyes do little to hide the once-over when the door slides open.

They go down, then back up, and he seems to catch on to the fact that you saw it. Then, he shakes his head just a little, and says, "Is Sarah here?"

Well, well, well. You lean against the door. "Did she say she was?"

Joel pierces you with his Dad Look. "Yes." Obviously, it goes without saying.

What other reason would he have, right? Clearing your throat, you feel the anxiety bubbling underneath the surface. "Uhm. She isn't," you look apologetic as you say it. As if it's your fault his prepubescent daughter uses you as a scapegoat.

His sigh is enough to make you feel how tired he is. Overworked. Exhausted.

You try to understand what might've happened before he loses his mind, "What time d'you usually come back from work? Maybe she's at a friend's. She probably thought you'd be back later than this."

He finishes rubbing both palms all over his face, and he threads one hand through his hair. "I'm usually back at nine—well, I'm supposed to be back at nine. I'm usually home by ten." That checks out, then. "But—that doesn't explain why she lied to me."

"Any special occasions coming up soon?"

Joel frowns. "Uhm. My birthday's in a few days, but—"

"Ahhhh." It shuts his mouth, the way you exclaim it so clearly. "She's brainstorming, Joel."

"Brainstorming...?"

"A gift." No daughter had easy access to what made their fathers happy. You take pity on him. "C'mon—let me scare the little one."

You walk inside without waiting for his reply, knowing Joel will make his way in. "What d'you mean, scare her?"

The noise of his boots hitting the floor makes you happy.

You take the phone out of the wall and look at him. "She always keeps that cellular phone with her when she goes out?"

"Always," he nods.

"Perfect." You know it by heart already. As you dial, you feel Joel's eyes on your house. It's the first he's ever been inside, and it makes you hyperaware of every movement of his. "It's ringing," you inform him with a grin forming.

He looks confused. More tired than anything else, but it'll make sense in a second.

"Hey, miss Sunshine!" the nickname she gave you always brings a smile to your face.

Time to put on a show. Feigning panic in your voice, you yell-whisper on the phone, "S, love, would you mind telling me why on Earth is your pops—" you fake cover your end of the line to yell, "one minute!" then you're back at whispering again, "why is he parked outside my house right now? Is there something I should know?"

"Oh, shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit—"

You're glad he can't hear her end of it. "No time for panic. Explain."

"I am so sorry, Sunny! I thought he'd be back in like, two hours or something. Oh, god, can you please cover for me? I wrote a note saying I was at your place. Sleeping there. I was gonna call you before he came back home but Jenny and I—"

"You're at somebody named Jenny?" you repeat the information, looking at Joel with a question in your eyes, and when he nods, your heart soothes at knowing she's safe. "And you didn't think to mention your brilliant idea earlier?" going for the full effect again, you yell out, "One minute, Joel!"

At least she's fast in her rambles. "Yeah, yeah. My best friend. She's trying to help me come up with a surprise for him. I'm not there often and it's never on his birthday. I wanna make it special."

"Okay. Cool. Next time, fill me in as you make the plans."

"I will, I promise. Pinky promise. You think you can convince him I'm sleeping there?" the plea in her voice is adorable.

You chuckle. "I've got you, S." Joel sighs in relief in front of you. "Just one thing."

"Yeah?"

"Be back here tomorrow first thing in the morning. 7:30 sharp. I'm gonna invite your dad for breakfast, as punishment for your lack of planning, and you'll be the one making us the pancakes," before she can even answer, you go, "Toodles!" and hang up.

When you put your phone back at the base, you turn around with a proud smile.

Joel's looking at you funny. "You're good at that," he says.

"At what? Acting?" you laugh when nods. "I was a trouble child. I'm great at lying."

"Aren't those the same?"

"Eh. A thin line separates them." You can sense his awkwardness creeping up, so you do your best to think on the spot. "Is she one to escape?"

"Not really, no." He's shuffling on his feet, uncertain of what to do in your home. "She's never done this before."

"From what she told me, she's never around for your birthday."

"That's true."

"She wants to make a surprise for you," you inform. It puts that smile on his face that makes your knees a little weak. "And now she has to be back here at seven in the morning. All is well."

He laughs. "Yeah, I guess so."

He's gonna see himself out. You swallow all the nervousness that being in his presence creates and just... goes for it. "Is it hard? Having a kid?"

That relaxes some of the tension in his shoulders. He leans on the counter of your kitchen and shakes his head. "Not really. It's a lot of work, but it's not hard. It's rewarding."

I wish my mother felt the same. You smile at the truth in his words. "I can see it's hard work." He laughs again. "Well—I had just opened that before you rang the bell," you point at the Pinot on top of the counter. "Want a glass? Unless you tell me you're 'only beer' kind of guy, then I can't help ya."

Joel looks between you and the bottle a couple of times, then looks down at himself. "I'm uh—I'm all greasy and gross from work. You sure that's the company you want for wine?"

Rolling your eyes, you walk towards your glasses cabinets. "If I told you that you can go home and shower, you'd never come back."

"And that'd be a bad thing?"

"Sure it would. You're the only person in this entire street that hasn't interrogated me on my life so far, I feel left out. Offended, even," you add with a dramatic twist. Your robe flows around you, and you can't help but smile when you see his eyes following you.

It's the way he swallows visibly, almost audibly, that plants a seed of maybe inside your head. "I'm not usually one to pry."

You place both glasses on the counter. "Neither am I."

"I know. It's why I like ya," Joel says it with eyes on the glasses instead of you. "That and the way you talk to the plants."

Your hand on the corkscrew stops, and you want to slam your forehead against the wood. "Oh, god."

His laughter is so nice. "Nah, don't be embarrassed. 's why I gave you your nickname."

"Don't be embarrassed? That's mortifying, Joel. I thought no one—wait." Had you heard him right? "What d'you mean you gave me my nickname?"

Joel's head tilts, and he's definitely a charmer kind of guy. If you do have a chance, you might be fucked. "Your nickname."

"Miss Sunshine?" He nods. "I thought that was Sarah."

"No, Sarah used it first in front of you," he pulls one of the glasses closer to him. "I said it first."

Well... that made it just as special but in a different way. You pour the wine into both glasses. "Good to know. I was under the impression she was the creative genius in the household—I just. Quick question that I never asked her: Why?"

"'Cause every mornin' before I left for work you're there on that big window," he points at the glass window that's occupies ceiling to floor, the very reason you picked this house, "talking to your plants as if you're the sun itself waking them up. 's cute."

Cute. You hate how he has the ability to make you blush. What is this, fucking high school?

"That makes sense."

Joel wipes his palms on the side of his t-shirt and then looks up at you. "If I go home with the promise of comin' back, will you let me shower?"

Let me. You're thankful your arms are covered because you're unsure of what this man is capable of when he knows the effect he has on somebody.

"I'll let you," you answer.

Joel nods and his smile is so genuine that you wonder why you never tried before.

"'kay," he takes one sip of the wine, hums in approval, and then takes a deep breath. "'m gonna go. I'll be back to interrogate you."

"I'll leave the door open."

"No—Jesus bloody Christ, are you and Sarah mad? Lock the door, Sunshine." You like it so much when he's the one that says it. "I'm serious."

"Alright, jeez," you laugh.

It's less tense than you imagined as he puts his shoes back on and walks out of your door. Joel crosses the street with a little wave in your direction, and all you can think is—what on Earth am I gonna do to him?

When he's back, Joel smells so good it's intoxicating.

It makes your brain melt.

Minty and fresh. That's what his stuff smells like, and you know the idea of that scent's now painted on the walls of your brain.

He does that stupid little dad pose, widening both arms and lifting them up in a display of 'what do you think' before walking in.

It makes you want to push him against the wall, but you do your best at behaving.

For now.

"Brand new man?" you ask.

He points at his glass of wine, untouched since the moment he left. "Will be in a sec."

You wait for him to take a sip before extending him what you held in your hand before he arrived.

Joel eyed the cigarette and, thank fuck, there was none of the annoying judgment sometimes people carried. He stops his movement to sit on the stool and asks, "You smoke in here, or are we goin' outside?"

"There's a table there. Weather's nice. D'you mind?"

Joel grabs his glass, shaking his head. "Not at all, ma'am. Lead the way."

"Ma'am," you echo him, sounding disgusted. He laughs behind you, "Who am I, Mrs. Adler?"

Still laughing, Joel answers, "Nah. Too talkative for that."

You turn around with your mouth hanging open, trying very little to look offended. "I beg your pardon. We never spoke for longer than, what, five minutes?"

Joel shrugs his shoulders. His smile is as intoxicating as his presence. "I hear things."

"You hear things?" you ask, pushing open the door that leads outside.

"I do," he sips his wine, looking to the small terrace where your little table is. "My daughter's a gossiper, little Sunshine. I think y'should know that."

Little Sunshine. Goddamn this man.

"Should I be scared, here? I haven't even told her anything, but I feel like I should be."

"If you didn't tell her anythin', than why would you be?"

"Because!" you laugh, feeling just a little out of your depth with his smoothness. You expected more closeness from Joel. Less teasing, easy banter. "You're talking like someone who knows a lot, that's all."

"And I do," he says, sounding every bit as serious.

You sit down on one of the chairs — your chair, precisely — and watch as Joel walks around a little, taking in the environment. He adds, "Did ya know," pausing for a dramatic effect, he sips again, "that in all of three months, you became one of my daughters' favorite people?"

He pins you under his gaze.

You cross your legs, and watch happily as his gaze drops to the motion.

"Did I?" if you sip at his pace, you'll be throwing yourself on his lap in an embarrassing amount of time.

Joel nods behind his cup, touching one of the many plants that cover your backyard area from floor, to walls, to ceiling. "You did," he smiles, dropping the fake seriousness. "Are you ready to deal with the six months absence? 'Cause from personal experience," he points both hands at his chest, "you try convincing yourself you won't miss her all that much 'cause, y'know, it's "just" a girl, but—fuck," he spits the last word, smiling widening around the fact. "She's so cool to have around. You'll see. Your phone's bill's about to create life."

It grounds you.

The way Joel speaks of Sarah makes you feel comfortable sitting here, and any doubts you had are sucked by the green life around you and returned as oxygen.

Joel talks about anything, no reservations.

In his absence, you doubted whether this could be any different than most times.

Would Joel be like that—like any of those other guys?

He wasn't.

Joel, as much as you hated to admit it, was an exception.

Maybe these things were fated. Simple chemistry. Similar mindsets. Whatever it was—you had it every once in a blue moon.

Your expectations settings were long ago molded to expect the least, and it takes only half a bottle of wine for you to notice the need to rear it in.

He's so damn easy. Joel goes from one topic to another like he's interested. He answers your questions with full interest, sometimes going on tangent stories, and he's the one who keeps the glasses filled.

Attentive, you take note the second time that happens. Before any of the glasses got empty, he served you both.

He compliments your taste in music and sounds genuine about it.

The weird silences you most dreaded never happen—if he's not answering you, Joel asks things. Interesting things, unlike any other neighbor.

"Was it you who decorated your place inside? 'Cause, there are very specific things in there. And you seem like the type to know what you like."

Joel was very attentive.

He asked, "and is this what you like to do with your free time?" pointing at the books you put away when you both arrived, "Drink wine, read, talk to your plants?"

"I still can't believe you've seen me doing that."

He laughed at that. "It's a pretty big window, Sunshine. Jesus Christ—you don't lock the door, you don't know people can see through your gigantic-ass window—I'm genuinely starin' to get worried here."

"Okay, first of all, I do lock my door."

"Do you?"

"'Course. Most days."

"Oh my—"

"—and! Now that I was reminded of my window's size, I'll consider buying drapes. Long, white ones. That'd be cool."

It was easy.

Talking to Joel—sharing a table with him, a glass of wine—so easy.

He never looked uncomfortable. Even if he moved a lot, Joel looked good—so damn good you lost focus every now and then—, but good with himself.

In his skin.

That was intoxicating.

When he does more than just talk and asks things; it's almost too damn easy. Was time supposed to go this way?

The first bottle end, but it's too soon.

You know it. He knows it—plays with it, in fact. Waves the empty bottle after pouring it for you and him in the air very lightly then places it on the floor.

Offering another one is almost a visceral reaction.

You don't have the same finesse he does, or at least, you think not, but if his smiles and closing proximity are anything to go by, he's enjoying himself as much as you are. "I dance around opening these a lot," you say pointing at the empty bottle. Pulling your legs closer to yourself despite the voice of your mother telling you that's a body language sign of insecurity—fuck insecurity. "Don't wanna be the wine lady on top of the plant one. But they're good. I like it."

"I only drink wine when my brother cooks," he offers.

The glass in your hands makes you feel safe enough to land this conversation where you want it. "Really? He cooks a lot?"

"More than me," Joel confesses with a shrug. "He likes to match the wine to the dish and that type o' stuff."

"I was taught how to be picky, but if I'm being honest—" you like the way Joel leans in closer when you pause it. You smile, "it's all just grapes tastin' really, really good." The sound of his damn laugh. This man's gotta have a flaw, you think. "As long as it's wine, I'm happy."

"I think that about a good beer after a day of work."

"We're all just trying to give ourselves little positive reinforcements for playing nice at doing our jobs, huh?"

Joel pauses at that. Lifts his eyebrows, then bursts out laughing. "Oh, wow—"

"Oh god", while it took you a lot of alcohol to get drunk, being open-mouthed about weird things came with the territory of feeling comfortable.

Joel made you comfortable, even if you were mortified at how amused he was.

When he's done laughing, he looks at you. "That's cute. You're the philosophical type."

"Isn't everybody who enjoys wine?"

"I don't know. I enjoy wine and I'm not one to go that far, I think."

"Hmm. Philosophizing can involve different topics. Lenses."

Joel wolf whistles. "Well, I think I'd need a couple more glasses to unlock that side of me."

"Not a problem," you get up, and resist the urge to wink at him. "I'll be back."

Your reflection in the kitchen mirrors is the confirmation of how fucked exactly you are.

It's more than just the color on your cheeks—it's the glassy screen over your eyes, making it shine like...

Well, very few times.

Fuck, you think.

Maybe that's why your palms are sweating.

He's more than you bargained for—Joel's looks were hard to move on from, but this?

Once in Rome...

Fuck it.

It's not as if either one of you was blinded to what a moonlight late-night conversation leads to.

The air outside could be felt.

When you're going back with the opened bottle, another pin drops in your mind.

He has the whole night free.

You don't break the bottle, but it's a close call.

Joel asks you the second you're back, "I have a depressing confession to make—I was tryin' to keep to it to myself, but honestly, it's all I taught about when you left."

You place the bottle in the middle of the table carefully and sit back down with your eyes on him.

He moved his chair closer again.

"Do share," you urge.

Joel looks around the yard—he seems to do it a lot when he's dipping his toes into personal places and says, "This is the first time in a—uh—I don't even know. A while. That I just... sat with another adult. Drank something nice. Talked about more than just—fucking politics, or whatever." Joel's eyes on you make you feel honored. You know he'd say that's a silly thought if you said it out loud. "It's really nice. And—the depressing part comes in now: I'm only here 'cause of my brother."

You tilted your hair. "You're here because... of Tommy?" you tried connecting those dots, but came up short.

Thankfully, Joel was here. With his smile, and his explanation.

"You see, before Sarah's mom and I decided she could spend some months here instead of just a few weekends, I was already... shutting in. His words, not mine," Joel picks up his glass for a sip, and you hang onto every word he says. "So when she came, he took me out one night. That little bar a few blocks from here—y'know Mr. O'Donovan's place?" when you shake your head, he waves a hand, "I'll take you someday—'s the only place around here that's worth a dime."

"I'll take your word for it." I hate bars. You'd go for him. With him.

"I think I know what beer you'd like," it comes off as a whisper, and you have to hide behind your glass again. "I only remember that talk because he made me promise. He's not one to ask for promises."

"What did he make you promise?"

"He was upset 'cause I kept turnin' him down every time he wanted to do his 'meet my friend and you'll be good friends' match-making shit, so he said, 'you promise that the next time someone invites you do somethin' you actually wanna do, you're not gonna turn 'em down? You'll actually fucking go, without makin' excuses to yourself'. And that sounded fair. So I promised."

You take note of the effort he's making.

The subtle 'this isn't just about what's about to happen'.

'I'll take you someday'.

'Next time someone invites you to do somethin' you actually wanna do'.

So more than just neighbors. You nod at that, smiling at him. "He seems like a good brother," you say. "Siblings can be a pain in the ass."

Joel stops his glass on the way to his lip to shake his head at you, "Oh, no no," he takes the sip first, and says, "one doesn't negate the other. He very much is a pain in my ass, trust me."

You laugh. "Older and younger?"

"Younger," he nods. "I had a lil' bit of peace here and there before he was born."

"Can't imagine you'd have it any other way nowadays."

He agrees with you.

When he doesn't, Joel scrunches his nose as he shakes his head.

He does silly faces. You wonder if he's aware of how unfair it is that he gets to look like that. Tender. Charming.

He proves your theory to be right with only half another bottle.

Put two or more adults plus a certain amount of alcohol in a closed environment, and sex will be on the table.

It makes you blush when you think... it could literally be on the table.

Joel pretends he doesn't see you growing hotter. He keeps his eyes on you as you take off the robe instead of looking at your arms. Listens to what you're saying without losing focus.

Only when you're done and asking him something in response that he looks.

It makes your throat dry when he does.

Joel has an unabashed, almost cocky tilt to his mannerisms.

You thought he'd be quieter than he is—more serious.

It's a welcomed contrast.

When sex is laid on the table, it comes because he brought up the joke you made at the beginning of the night about his lack of interest in your life, and decided to ask you things. Where you grew up. If you were always like this.

"Define 'like this'."

"Smart with the calculating glance, and sweet-talking."

"Is that me?"

"Sure is, Sunshine."

None of the questions that people usually ask.

It makes you bite your lip more than you wished—his manly, tall presence gets under your skin in ways that no previous partner managed to. Tucking your hair behind your ear, avoiding leading the conversation to the exact places you liked, giggling—those weren't things you did.

He pulled them from you.

When he does ask you the 'usual' questions, it lacks the malicious curiosity inflating others whenever they did.

Sex is laid on the table because Joel looks you in the eyes with that easiness in his shoulders and asks, "I'm not as private as you, though—all of my neighbors already know Tommy, and Sarah. You, on the other hand... the mysterious crime and horror novelist, who talks to her plants and moved from so, so far. I might not be the prying type, but I was curious about you long before my gremlin set her little claws on you. How come I never see anyone coming in or out of here? You tellin' me not one friend of yours followed you here to god-forsaken Texas?"

Your glass is almost empty, and you focus on the twirling of the red inside it to avert your mind from the way he's sitting. "The point of moving was getting away from them. All of them, as bad as that sounds," you cover your eyes with your free hand, and Joel's hand touches your forearm.

"Hey—it's fine. Don't feel bad. 'm happy you had the privilege of gettin' away. If you wanted to move away from all of it, I'm sure you had your reasons."

Looking between your fingers, you try appraising his face. "Really?"

"Really," he nods.

"Okay." You sit up straight. "And I do have people over, sometimes. You're just always at work."

"Yeah? You made friends already?"

"A few, yeah."

"Where?" he removes his hand from your forearm but drops it to your chair's armrest. The proximity is doing something to you. "I thought you worked from home."

"I do," you agree. "But I do other stuff. I'm not always here with my plants, Joel," you roll your eyes, smiling amusedly.

Joel laughs, "I wouldn't know. If I could work from home and stay with my tools and wood, I would."

"And I believe you," you nodded.

He bites on his smile before asking. "What other stuff d'you do?"

"I joined a book club," you reply, feeling all levels of boring.

From his look, he disagrees. "You got the patience for that?"

"Sure do," you nod again.

He nods, pouting in awe. "Nice," he says. "Are your book club friends givin' you the right impression of Texans?"

"I'm warming up to them," you smile.

Nodding, he asks, "Should I ask now the questions all my neighbors already know the answer to? 'Cause I am curious. Did you know Mr. Adler tried tellin' me what he 'discovered' about you? He tried looking blasé when he said that, but I'm sure he just wanted to gossip about the pretty girl who moved across from him."

"Ew, Joel," you laugh.

His eyes never leave you—you feel it even when you're not looking at him. He's laughing too. "What? It's true."

When you look back up at him, you wonder—when did you two get this close?

"You can ask," you say. "It's not that exciting, the answer. Actually, it's not exciting at all."

"Hmm, I'll be the judge of that," he sips his wine, and leaves the glass on the table. "You already know my backstory, so kill my curiosity now," he pierces with his eyes for a moment, "how on Earth is there no ring on this finger?" he points to your ring finger, then he leans in closer, and you can smell the wine in his breath; you want to kiss it until it's taste is gone, "and how is it that I never see anyone leaving here early in the mornings?"

Well. "No ring 'cause I didn't want one so far," you reply. To him, you give more honesty than anyone else who's asked. "And I have the luxury of living without it. I know many friends of mine who don't—and actually, that was part of..." don't go there. "Nevermind," you shake your head, pinning yourself to here.

"You just didn't want it?" he echos.

You nod, "Never did," there's no reason to lie to him. He smells so good—why would you lie to him? "Most men bore men, Joel."

"Wow," the smile that widens is a little baffled. A little dirty. "Should I be scared?"

At that, you burst out laughing. "Really?" You have no clocks outside, but the starry sky and the deep silence in the houses next to you are a good enough indicator. "It's been... a couple of hours, at least. We're one bottle and a half," you say, looking at your glasses shining on the table, "deep into conversation... and you wonder if you should be scared?"

Joel's still looking at you when you look back. His arm is around your chair, and your back touches it when you lean back against it. "I'll take that as a no."

"You are very far from boring."

"'m happy you think so," he smiles. He lets his eyes drop to your lips, without a care for the two palms of distance that separate your faces. It's meant to be blatant. Obvious. "Just another question..."

Here it comes, you thought. Why no kids? Why so alone? Do you feel lonely?

"Why me?" he asks.

It's nothing more than a breath.

You could ignore it. Give any answer, and close the gap. Instead, you give him honesty. "Honestly? I was so attracted to you, the second I saw you, that I was willing to even hear somethin' stupid coming out of your mouth if I could just—," do it, do it, do it. Seeing his eyes darken from up close is torture. You can feel the pulse of your heartbeat between your legs. "Now, if I were any smart, I'd be wishing for you to be bad at all the rest, because..."

This was amazing already.

Joel laughs, just a single, breathy laugh, and then does something you would never see it coming.

He pushes his chair back with the weight of his hips and drops to his knees.

The gasp you let out is enough to put the most insufferable smile on his face.

"Don't say that," he feigns hurt, as if he wasn't smiling with his eyes and lips. "It might've been a while, but I don't think I lost my touch just yet."

Joel's hands envelop your knees and slowly pull them apart. You feel like an open wire—aware of every breath your body takes and each minimum reaction to him.

You feel the wet pulse inside your panties when he kisses the skin of your inner thigh, right above your knee.

Joel smiles up at you, blinking his eyes.

Damn him, you think. His hands caress their way up your skin, and you wished you were naked already.

He seems like someone to enjoy the torture—when his hands reach the curve of your ass, they stop there, holding onto your waist.

"Have I?" he asks, kissing the other inner leg. You feel a hint of his tongue in the short kiss.

What could you say to that?

"You really haven't."

Feeling the hot breathing of his laughter on your inner thighs was not in your list for tonight.

"Do I get a kiss, then?"

He would never have to ask you twice.

Your legs wrap around his torso when you lean down to meet him for the kiss. Joel seems to love the position—he smiles at first, gripping you by the neck.

He takes his time to look at you before he dives in. A mental check-in. Maybe just admiring, just as you were from the second he kneeled.

His kiss comes from experience. A lot of fucking experience.

If you were weak in the knees before, you seal the notion that you're out of your depth there and then.

Joel kisses like no one's ever kissed you before—like he wants to explore, discover, conquer.

He licks his way inside of you with the first kiss.

His tongue isn't shy; he makes you adjust to his rhythm, to let go and open up, and when you, you're rewarded with it—he pulls up just an inch, just to whisper, "that's it," and then dives back in.

Joel wraps his arm around your shoulder and neck in a possessive manner. It's why he makes it so easy for you let him guide it—he's holding you, and you moan as you melt into him.

He wants to feel your body.

The more you press yourself against him, the more Joel grants you little sighs of his own pleasure.

He never pushes his hips against you. Never presses you towards him.

It makes you want to scream.

When he pulls away, Joel sighs happily. He presses his right thumb over your swollen bottom lip, and nodding, kneels on his heels again.

"Joel..."

Your face remains close to his, gravitating to where he does. He whispers, "Lift your hips up for me, Sunshine," wrapped around a smile.

You do as he says.

His hand takes off your shorts without your eyes ever leaving you, and when the item is on the floor, Joel releases the robe you foregone earlier tonight from your backrest to slide down where you sit.

To not make a mess, it says.

Your face is burning up, but not as much as the rest of you.

"Is this ok?" he asks.

He waits for your nod of approval before pulling you by your knees. "Good," he's strong enough to get you where he wants in one pull. Your hips are nearing the end of the chair and from this angle, Joel gets to look.

He eyes the underwear as if it's personally offending him.

"I like the color," he says. He traces a finger across the baby blue lace and looks up at you. "Suits ya," he says. That's when he hooks a finger on the fabric, pulling it to the side. "I dreamt about this."

That gets to you.

Joel's fingers are thorough—able. He uses his knuckles to spread the lips apart, uncaring about the whines you let out above him, still holding on to the shame of being the only one exposed.

It lasts until he places two knuckles on each side of your clit, stimulating it with back-and-forth movements.

You were right about the torture.

He enjoys it.

Joel waits for your clit to be hard between his fingers before he puts his mouth to it.

You can only cling onto his hair.

I dreamt about this, too.

"Fuck—I dreamt about this too," you confess.

His moan vibrating against the core of your pussy makes you clench.

Joel's only starting.

He takes his time in finding the rhythm you most feel pleasure on your clit. He never bites, never nibbles, and doesn't go softly, like other men.

He eats.

Joel's mouth is stuck to you—the way he laps and slurps and sucks on your hardened nub only makes your volume go from whines and pleas of his name to moans in very little time.

That's when he dips his tongue inside. When he uses it as muscle and proves to you why the idea of oral is so good for men.

Because it's good.

Joel gives no indicator that he wants to stop at any time, and it turns you into something that blossoms.

At some point between him almost making you cum just by sucking on your clit and fucking his tongue in and out of you, your legs made their way to his shoulders, and his hands have secured themselves groping your ass.

He pulls back for air, once.

His fingers enter you instead, two at once.

"So wet already," he says. You only hear it, until, "look at me," he asks.

As if his thick, long fingers dripping into places inside of you weren't enough, you get to look at him.

His face glistening on your back porch is something that burns behind your eyelids the second you see it. You feel incoherent, needy, and exposed in more than one way.

Joel looks like he could eat you like this.

"Joel—please. Please," you're begging, but for what, you're not sure.

"Cum for me first. I'll give you whatever you want later, just," he pumps his fingers inside of you, keeping a steady and strong pace, and then says, "You look so good like this, Jesus fuckin' Christ."

Profanities.

That's what he says before getting his mouth back on you—his tongue sucking and vibrating against your clit.

It's too much. Too fucking much, and, "Joel, Joel—"

He pulls back just to say it, "That's it, doin' so good, Sunshine—" and that's when you lose it. The coaxing. It's so earnest. Sounds so pleased, dipping in honey as if it's him who's feeling this good.

"'m gonna cum Joel, fuck me, just like that—"

"Like this? Hm? Show me. Cum on my mouth."

All it takes is for him to put it back on you. Joel knows how to push himself inside—knows how to explore the hot and tight confines of your cunt, because he coos a first orgasm out of you with the right pace only.

No strength. No speed. Just sucking, and curling right against your spot.

Your vision whites out.

The time you take to come back to yourself, he keeps playing with your pussy and the mess he made in it, seeming as satisfied with the result as you are. Somewhere in white land.

What a little death.

After that, it's more a mess and clashes of teeth and desires than you knew you were even capable of.

He pulls you in for a kiss, and you pull him inside the house.

The idea is to make it to your room, but you never make it past the living room.

When you press him against a wall to finish taking off his clothes, seeing him only in briefs makes gravity pull you in.

Nothing but black briefs.

You have to drop to your knees.

Joel curses under his breath and tries his best at keeping his posture, but you're with a mind entirely clouded by raw need.

To him, you want to do only your best.

You're addicted to the way he mutters, "atta girl," every time you discover something that brings him pleasure. It sounds so fucking dirty.

"That's it. Atta fuckin' girl, god."

With him, you use tricks your friends once told you that are buried in the back of your mind. You hold the part of his cock your mouth can't cover and move it in sync with your lips. You make it wet, make sloppy, make it whatever he leads it to be.

Joel hisses and moans louder when you find the special places hidden—the sensitive skin between his balls that leads up, you lick it from start to finish and are rewarded with a full-body shudder.

He shows you what strong body means.

"Where's your room?" he pulls you by the arms, and you somehow end up jumping on him. Exactly what you wanted.

"I'm not makin' that far," you tell him with a grin.

He has his thumb on your lips again—he seems to like your mouth.

"Didn't think you'd want my bare ass on your couch."

"That is exactly where I want your bare ass right now," you tell him.

He's good at following requests, just as he is at giving them.

Joel sits with you already straddling his lap, and bless his gentleman's heart, he says, "I left my pants outside—wait," he curses under his breath with your hips circling his shaft. Letting it slide between your pussy lips. "Fuckin' hell."

"Fuckin' hell indeed," you sigh. "Wait here."

You run outside for it, only because you're not on the pill. Maybe you'll start taking it. Maybe you shouldn't think that far.

Joel's waiting for you alright—he has his hand at the base of his cock, sitting on your couch like a modern-day Adonis.

A sluttier Adonis. Sexier, too.

"Stop starin' and c'mere," he demands;

And who are you to say no to that?

Joel does you the favor of putting it on as you make yourself comfortable on his lap again, taking all of your out of the way. He looks like he wants to eat you alive piece by piece, and you love it.

"Lemme know if you want me to take over," he tells you.

"Yes, sir," you whisper in a taunting manner.

Joel rests his forehead against yours when you line himself up with you, and it's a reward of your stupid, gigantic-ass window letting in the light from outside that allows you to see the pleasure on his face as you sink around him, burying him to the hilt.

His digits press so hard on your sides they'll brise.

You'll be bruised tomorrow morning.

Fingerprints on your hips, beard burns on your inner legs, palm shapes across your ass.

When you start moving, none of you say a word about how it feels.

It's criminal.

Only curses and your names are allowed in the thin space separating your wet bodies.

The thin layer of sweat makes you two glide on each other, and the drag of him inside of you is almost too good for words.

You're scared of the ones that'd make their way out, anyway.

So you let out what you can. You call for him, and he calls back. Joel slaps your ass, both sides of it, and urges you on to take him as you want it.

"Fuckin' christ, I'm never gonna—fuck—never gonna sleep again."

There it is. Being pussy-drunk makes him loose-lipped.

Your own are aching with how hard you bite on them.

Joel lets the reigns remain on your hands as you stay on top. He lets you ride him painfully slow, and faster, just because it feels good. He lets you climb all the way up only to slam back down, praising you through the fog in your brain.

"Does it feel good, Sunshine? Mm? My cock feels that good for you?"

You're sure it'll all come back to haunt you once your brain can be coherent.

He takes charge when you start begging him, and for what, you're unsure of. It's a mixture of please and his name, which Joel takes as his permission slip.

He flips you onto your back, hooks one of your legs on the middle of his back, and fucks you both into another orgasm.

It should be concerning the way he does it—like he's familiar with your body and your cues. He just follows your pace and moans until you're clawing at his back, and when his name comes out over and over again, he coaxes it again. Coos at you, holding your face in one hand. "You're gonna cum for me, aren't ya? Do it. I'll cum for you when I feel you shakin' around my cock, Sunshine. Cum for me."

It comes so hard you almost faint; blackout.

Joel takes care of you afterward.

Of course he does.

Even with the weakest legs and the minimum sense of reality around you, he manages. Joel leads you upstairs, tells you he's collected your clothes, and even lays down when you ask him.

"Just for a while," you ask.

He lays in front of you in bed, and pulls your arms around him. "I'm puttin' an alarm."

Little spoon. "You gotta be back here in the morning anyway."

"I know," he kisses your wrist. "Can't wait."

🏷️ @sakuralikestars — @mostardentily — @thegreat-annamaria — @leiticia — @polyglot-noodle — @casssiopeia — @earthtocharlene

⚠️ if anyone being tagged would like to not be, just let me know in my inbox.

↳ my inbox 💌 | tip jar ♡ ↲

#usernexusnyx #joel miller #joel miller drabble #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller fluff #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller masterlist #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x oc

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monzamash · 7 months

Text

needed me — lando norris

"sorry for the cuddling. i'm usually not this clingy." lando norris x you rating – mature; mostly fluff with a sprinkle of innuendo masterlist

The weekend had been rough. From beginning to end, it was a scrap for Lando – nothing going his way, no silver lining to salvage. Waste of fucking time, he growled once his helmet came off and was shoved into his trainer’s arms, barely even glancing your way. Disappearing into hospitality, never resurfacing until he was ready to leave the track. Alone.

Darkness blanketed the Bahrain skies, black clouds ominously looming above and painfully complimenting Lando’s race. It was poetic in a way and you found comfort in the dimly lit gloom, curling up in your hotel bed with a book and glass of wine. You needed it to distract you from the phone taunting you on the bedside table. No new notifications, no texts, no calls – radio silence from the one person you couldn’t stop thinking about.

The click of your hotel door opening made your heart skip, the shadow of the man you had become all too familiar with slinking up your walls until he appeared in the door way – all hoodie clad and cosy. You closed your book and sat up against the mountain of pillows, a soft smiling lining your lips as Lando shyly shuffled across the carpet beneath his sneakers.

“Am I gonna have to revoke your key card privileges?” You asked, watching him kick off his shoes and jumper while you flipped open your duvet, summoning him under the warm covers.

Lando shook his head, curls falling into his eyes as he sighed deeply and crawled in beside you, “Please don’t. I’ll never recover.”

You hummed in amusement, hanging your arm out over the pillows and pulling him into your side. He was warm to the touch always, nuzzling into your neck as soon as he was close enough – annoyingly clingy in the best way. He was your friend first, maybe more now but you never spoke about it.

Having him this close was all you needed, it was what you craved on those lonely nights and you assumed by the way he always came to your room after a long day that the feeling was mutual.

“I needed to see you… couldn’t sleep,” He whispered into the air, eyes focused on the intricately detailed ceiling above.

“Neither could I so you made the right call."

Your tone was light, almost airy and Lando was broken from his distant gaze and brought right back to you – a grin teasing his lips. The sudden realisation that you wanted him here hitting him like a tonne of bricks.

“Sleeping in your bed is always the right call.”

The blush that roared across your face was disguised by the darkness you laid in, fingers mindlessly brushing through his dense curls that tickled your cheeks. Lando’s fingertips drew shapes on the forearm that kept him tucked into your side – his mind finally slowing down enough to enjoy the silence. Comfortable, effortless silence that made him feel like he was home.

“You comfy?” You asked, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his nodding head.

Lando closed his eyes and burrowed deeper into your embrace, “Sorry for the cuddling – I’m usually not this clingy,” He whispered in return, causing your eyebrows to rise and a quiet scoff to slip from your lips.

You could see the devilish smirk plastered across his sweet face when you looked down, rolling your eyes and giving his curls a playful tug, eliciting a moan.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Your question wasn’t prying and Lando knew that – and maybe tomorrow in the harsh light of day he would have to but right now, with your soft, inviting lips taunting every ounce of self-control he had left, he shook his head. Subtle but you caught it, along with the glimmer in his eyes that told you he couldn’t bear to relive any of it this soon.

“Do you wanna kiss about it instead?” You asked, blinking a couple of times before Lando was lifting his head from your shoulder and meeting you in the middle.

“Yes please,” He mumbled before capturing your lips, hands grasping your face to bring you closer – desperation and adoration in every single searing kiss he pressed to your skin.

#lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris smut #f1 imagine #monzamashmasterlist #f1 blurbs

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privateanxieties · 10 months

Text

sweet like wine

Summary: You realize how much you like it when Frank is vocal during sex.

Pairing: Frank Castle x f!Reader (no y/n);

Words: 2.1k (18+ shameless smut, aural kink, fluff, intimacy, explicit consent, mutual masturbation, sexy voicemails, dirty talk, established relationship)

----------------------

The first time took you completely by surprise.

You weren't expecting a man of few words like Frank, quiet and brooding as he was, to become the picture of an enthusiastic lover once the lights went out and you found yourselves taking the next step in your relationship. That's not to say you didn't expect a certain… level of intensity. Frank was not a bland man — simple and direct, maybe, but he brought a particular devotion to everything he did. He didn't mince actions, or words for that matter. But he also didn't use too many of them regardless of the circumstances, so you didn't expect reality to be any different when it came to intimacy with him. You imagined him to be passionate, and you were not wrong. However, in all your fantasies (and there were plenty), he was always quietly focused. Encouraging, but not with words. Filthy, but never this articulate.

You take me so fuckin' well, baby.

That's it, soak my fingers, let me feel it.

Gonna come, sweetheart? Make a mess all over my cock?

It was nice to be wrong. So nice, in fact, that you almost came untouched just from listening to him tell you what he wanted to do to you the first time you made love. The noises that escaped his lips as he barely pressed his hips into yours drove you insane. He wouldn't let you have it until you asked, slowly and languidly grinding himself against you through the satin of your panties, enough to ruin them and fry your brain, but not enough to give you that rush of pleasure you were dying to get from him. He took his time with no issue, like the clock stopped moving the second he molded his lips to yours.

"That feel good?" he mumbled against your neck, biting down in response when you didn't answer right away, too lost in the warmth of his skin and the pretty noises he was making.

"Uh-huh," you moaned, shivering as he licked a path to your collarbones and his beard left a pleasant burn in its wake.

"You want more?" he taunted, placing a kiss to the swell of your breast.

"Yes, Frank." Then, thinking it not enough, you quietly added a 'please' on the end of a breathy whine as his lips wrapped around your nipple.

You came to learn you didn't have to beg with him, unless he wanted you to — because if you thought you liked it when Frank talked during sex, he was singularly focused on making you utter words that would make a fiend blush. You were resistant at first, partly because the more you'd talk, the less he would, and you couldn't have that. Yet pretty soon you realized that hearing you speak the filth you did to him garnered an interesting and previously unheard noise from your lover.

Frank's only response as you rode his cock and told him how well he filled you was to whine.

In retrospect, you couldn't have known that would be the thing to unlock a noise you didn't think possible, but you certaintly didn't complain when his hand grasped your jaw and his lips mashed to yours, trying desperately to stifle the alluring sound by pressing it into your mouth and making you dizzy with want. That sound worked to push you over the edge just as well as his skilled fingers on your clit. It got you so worked up that sometimes just the memory of it hitting you in the middle of the day was enough to heat up your skin and make you wish you had a recording of it. Which was how the real trouble started, when Frank left on a longer assigment from his contact at the CIA.

Now, you would be fine without him for a couple of weeks. You'd done it before, and you understood the nature of his work and how it'd be woven into your relationship. You knew that when he'd leave, it wouldn't be the same as going on a business trip. There was a strict no-contact rule he enforced, both because he often simply didn't have the means to get in touch and because it was the safest thing to do. He wouldn't put you in any jeopardy because he missed you, and you'd long ago accepted that as fact and respected his decision.

And that was the reason why a voicemail from Frank arriving dead in the middle of those fourteen days away almost provoked a heart attack— twice. First, because you thought something horrible had gone wrong. He was hurt. He was in trouble. Maybe this was all he could do to say goodbye. Your blood pressure couldn't have been any higher as your thumb inched towards the play button on the message, and you thought you could drop to your knees when the first thing to come out of the speakers was a long, drawn-out groan.

This was it. You were going to lose him. He was dying somewhere, alone, and you were never going to see him again.

"God, babygirl…"

You waited with bated breath, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes, and then the second uptick in your pulse occurred.

"Fuckin' miss you so much. Need to feel that tight pussy squeezin' my cock."

It wasn't hard, given how wound up you already were, for your body to make the switch from horrible adrenaline to an absolutely euphoric rush of pleasure. It happened so quickly that whiplash wasn't far behind, and you gripped the arm of the sofa as you slid down to the floor, unable to stand any longer. Heart beating wildly in your ears, you forced yourself to calm so as not to miss his next words.

"Wish you could see how you got me right now… fuckin' my own hand like a goddamn teenager," he groaned.

You couldn't have helped your reaction if you'd tried. Switching the phone to your other hand with a tell-tale tremor, your dominant one slipped down the front of your leggings and straight into your dampening underwear, fingers moving in tandem with the background noise your ears were hypnotized by. You could hear the motions of Frank's fist going up and down his cock, could make out just how easily his hand moved over himself and feel the phantom taste of him in your mouth. Your own fingers picked up the pace on your pulsating clit, mind trying to remember the sensation of his rougher digits caressing you.

"Gonna come, baby?"

Startled, your tightly closed eyes were pried open to glance at the screen, wondering if you hadn't somehow called him in your frenzy. But no. The voice note kept playing, and the pretty groans kept coming.

"You're so fucking close. I know it. You're thinkin' about me touching you. Can't stand that I'm not there to do it."

High-pitched whimpers spilled from your lips, feeling so empty and wishing he could fill you at this exact moment. You were soaked through your panties, heat turned up inside yourself so much that sweat began to build at your temples. You were a mess in less than two minutes, and all it took was a goddamn recording of his voice.

"Frank…"

Moaning his name into the empty room made you feel dirty and horribly desperate, fingers slicked up to the point you had trouble getting a consistent motion. Your chest was tight with shallow breaths, spine tingling and legs cramping from how wound up your muscles were.

"C'mon sweet girl, let go. Soak that pussy f'me," he demanded in that gruff tone he always used when he brought you right to the cliff's edge.

"Frankie, please…"

You'd lost your mind, begging him for something he could neither hear nor grant you. But he knew. He always knew. Between the sounds of his own slick motions and heady groans, a noise you loved more than anything broke through just when you thought you couldn't take any more.

He whined your name on the end of a heart-stopping moan and just like that, you were gone, vision going white as you threw your head back hard against the armrest you forgot was there. You panted wildly as your hand kept moving, not stopping until you heard that beautiful shudder fall from his lips, signaling his own release. Every inch of you was electrified, sitting there as you breathed together, hours apart but still in sync.

You didn't tell him about that moment, because there was no need. When he made it home at the end of those two weeks, he neither greeted you nor removed his shoes, simply picking you up and planting you onto the counter before burying his face into the crook of your neck.

"Want you to show me," he asked, warm breath hitting the outer shell of your ear. Disoriented, all you could do was make an inquisitive noise. You'd barely had time to take him in before he was on you.

"Huh?"

"I wanna see how you did it. Want to know how you touched yourself f'me last week."

Your heart picked up in double time, knowing he was dead serious and that you'd do anything he asked. This was uncharted territory for both of you, and you were a little shy to try something like this out of nowhere. What would you even do? You weren't even that used to touching yourself anymore, last week having been a rare exception. It was nice and definitely an intense experience, but it still paled in comparison to the average night with him. Or, as it were, the average day— because he apparently expected you to do this right here, right now. On an early Sunday afternoon where you hadn't even bothered changing out of your slip dress.

Sensing your hesitation, he pulled back to look into your eyes as his hands found your hips, thumbs rubbing soothing circles through the thin fabric covering them.

"Don't you worry, baby. I'm gonna guide you through it. Watch my pretty girl touch herself like I tell her to. Whaddaya say, sweetheart? You want that?"

Like I tell her to.

Fuck, yes. You wanted that. You wanted it so badly apparently that Frank saw it in your expression, because he smirked as soon as you looked at him all wide-eyed.

"I…"

"Yeah? What is it, baby?"

He must've known, by that point. With how attuned he was to your body and needs as a general rule, it shouldn't have surprised you. Of course he knew you had it bad. He knew exactly what you liked and why you liked it, and he went so far as to break his one rule in order to drive you even crazier than usual. Maybe your brain shortcircuited too severely after that voicemail, because it was only now that you were realizing…

"You sent that on purpose," you said, a pout forming on your lips.

"Sure as shit didn't send it by accident," Frank retorted, an amused snort bubbling out of him.

"I'm being serious! You knew this whole time?"

"Knew what, huh? That my girl likes a little back and forth during sex?" he grinned, delivering a pinch to your hip.

"All sex is a back and forth, Frank," you deadpanned, knowing exactly what he meant but unable to avoid sassing him.

"M'not suggesting anything different," he shrugged, eyes slipping down your body with clear intention.

Right. Back and forth. He talks and you… You struggle not to come from his words alone. A tempting proposal.

"I want to. I'm just not sure what to do," you admitted, winding your arms around his neck as you finally took a good look at him. He looked good, his beard having grown out even more during his time away.

"What'd I say? You ain't gotta worry about that. S'my job. Just gotta listen to what I say," his voice rumbled in your ear as he leaned in again, a brief but meaningful touch of his body to yours making you realize he was half-hard already.

This man was going to be the death of you, but you had no doubt: he would always making good on his promises, especially the ones he whispered in your ear.

A/N: Just the product of a horny brain. Hope you enjoyed it!

#frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #frank castle x reader smut #frank castle imagine #frank castle smut #the punished x reader smut

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walpu · 3 months

Note

I'm coming at you with the speed of thousand asteroids affectionately and hit you with a "your writing is awesome!"

Also, may I request an Aventurine x The Nameless!reader.

Thank you very much and have a nice day :D

Thank you so much for your kind words and for the request, it was so fun to write <З

Hope you'll enjoy it, have a good day as well 💛

Aventurine x The Nameless!reader

characters - Aventurine

notes - gn!reader, fluff, a bit of hurt/comfort. Once again, no beta. I'm so sorry.

Aventurine

Considering that the Astral Family and it's members are pretty well-known (everyone seems to know at least their names) he has probably heard something about you even before you first met him.

I can imagine your first meeting going like this: he casually approaches you, acting all buddy-buddy, and says something like "ah, mx , who knew I would meet you here of all places <З".

If your first meeting was during the Penacony quest get ready for him calling you "friend" in this sassy voice of his 💀 Yes Aven we all get it you don't have any actual friends calm down

Can imagine him trying to get closer to you by painting your potential partnership as something mutually beneficial. You could use a friend from the IPC, right? And he wouldn't mind having some connections with a "brave and honorable" Nameless. So why don't you join him for a glass of wine, hmmm?

When the two of you will eventually get closer this mf will get clingy af. Yeah I've mentioned it already in my previous post but you being one of the Nameless opens up so many new perspectives.

Visits you on the Express regularly. If he comes when you're not here, he'll wait for as long as he can for you to come back. Sadly, Aventurine is a busy, busy man. So he can't wait for long. Will leave small notes for you tho, to let you know that he was there but you didn't grace him with your presence

If you come back when he's waiting, Aven will play it off as if he himself just got there and didn't have to wait for you at all, saying somethin like "Oh look, here you're! And here I thought I would have to wait for you, haha. Seems like luck is on my side today~"

He doesn't want you to worry, after all. Also. He wants to save some face. Pom-Pom will rat him out anyway.

Speaking of Pom-Pom, they're probably sick of him at this point lol.

Would ask you about your adventures and listen very closely to every story you may want to tell. He can't help but smile softly while listening to you, he just loves seeing the passion in your eyes. Doesn't matter if the story is about you dragging the Trailblazer away from the trash cans in Belobog (or worse - admiring the trash cans with them), he will still look at you with the same adoring smile.

If you ask him what he's been up to during the time you where gone, Aven would simply laugh it off and say that his boring IPC stuff cannot compare with your bizarre adventures so it doesn't even worth mentioning. Reassure him that you don't care if it's boring, you just want to hear about his day regardless of how it went.

Sometimes he can't help but feel jealous. You're free to travel, to do whatever you want. You have this sparkle of excitement in your eyes every time you tell him about your travels. And he has nothing of it. Simply can't have.

He doesn't have any negative feelings towards you, of course. Mostly some bottled up bitterness toward his fate and himself.

He gets a bit lost in his own head every time he starts feeling this way. Please take his hand and invite him to join you during your next adventure. He will laugh softly and tell you "maybe next time, darling". Even if he doesn't know when this "next time" will come the thought of it, of you wanting to share your precious moment with him, fills him with hope.

Adores when you bring him small gifts from the places you've been. It doesn't have to be something big, really. Just the thought that you were thinking of him when the two of you were apart is enough.

Don't forget to send him pictures of yourself!!!! He wants to know how his dearest darling is doing even when they are freezing their ass off in Belobog.

Would sometimes surprise you by showing up on the planet/space ship you're currently staying on. Aventurine rarely can't stay for a long but he cherishes those short moments when he can just walk around and do nothing in particular with you.

Usually when he visits a planet it has something to do with the IPC's business so he only has time to do his job and. Well. Gamble. Maybe buy some new clothes too if he has enough time.

But with you he can actually explore the planet. You bring him to the local restaurants, small tea shops, seemingly small and insignificant places. But it’s places like these that reveal the real beauty of the planet. He slowly learns to appreciate it when you're by his side.

#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr aventurine #aventurine #aventurine x reader #walp's writing

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demigoddessqueens · 4 months

Text

Lucifer SFW

Just some A-Z SFW for the occasional adorkable King of Hell

Here on masterlist 10

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Super affectionate!! Peppers you with kisses and everything

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Chances are Luci would meet you if he’s ever visiting Charlie at the new hotel and sees you as one of the sinners living there

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He’s the cuddle bug master, just holding onto you like glue

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

I’d imagine as King of Hell has others for domestic tasks, but he enjoys the domestic life and wants that peace and love with it

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Oh he will NOT be handling breaking up well AT ALL 💔 like we’re talking tears and asking “did I do something wrong?”

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Man’s still wears his wedding ring after a seven years divorce/separation, he makes good on his commitments

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Very gentle and loving, there’s an air of love to his aura around you.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Those anaconda squeeze type of hugs and burying his head in your neck/hair.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Oh he wants to say it first so bad, but it all depends on when and how YOU want to say it, and Luci respects that

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Short fuse jealousy! Anyone so much as looks at you if you’re together and they’re getting smoted

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Passionate, deep kisses or quick little pecks

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Has a bit of an awkward charm to him that may be hit or miss with some kids

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Mornings are total “let’s just lounge in bed” all day type of thing

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Nights are intimate and sweet, spending time together over a glass of wine

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

I’d feel Luci would open up faster to you than you would, part of his loneliness, but he respects your boundaries

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He’ll only be “angry” if someone tries to pull anything with you, but has considerable patience with you.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Luci can rattle off facts about you like it’s nobody business, just speaking about you adorably and what he loves about you

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

The first time you said “i love you” to him, he said it first a while back in the early stage

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Given how he is with Charlie, you are also important and incredibly precious to him and wants to protect you

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

You’re getting the full Royal Treatment from him. Gifts, candies, conjured flowers and trinkets and whatnot

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Maybe being a bit overly jealous or possessive of someone

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Well he is in charge of the Ring of Pride so he has to look good, especially if you’re coming over

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

In a way, yes. Lonely and a bit like “do you not like me anymore?”

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

If you’re a cooking type, I’d imagine Luci has a bit of a sweet tooth and loves all your baked goods

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Maybe like an overly nonchalant person or one who doesn’t communicate or open up themselves as he does

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Sleep starts off with cuddles, maybe some spooning, you as the big spoon most of the time

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer hazbin hotel #my writing #hazbin lucifer #lucifer x you #lucifer morningstar #lucifer #lucifer x y/n #sfw alphabet #fluff alphabet meme #fluff alphabet #writeblr

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spacebarbarianweird · 5 months

Note

Oooh! Chronic depression Tav sounds right up your alley! I'm also chronically depressed and I have a similar living condition (messy room, not the horrific torture) to Astarion. Maybe a Tav who can empathize with his messy tent and his depression?

Oh yes, this hits my alley! I was diagnosed with anxiety disorder and depression a while ago plus it seems like I had a severe depression when I was 12-19 years old (but I wasn't taken to any specialists back then).

TW: Anxiety and depression come in different forms, my therapists always told me that I have a weird skill to look absolutely normal meanwhile tests show signs of severe depression. I've based this headcanon on my own experience.

TW 2: A suicide attempt, depression.

Astarion x Depressed!Tav

Masterlist

Headcanons

You feel off.

Something was utterly wrong with you for the last few years.

You barely eat, sleep too much

Decision-making is difficult as fuck, and you just do what you are told to.

The time is slipping through your fingers and you sometimes realize it's already winter when it was summer a day ago.

You feel like drowning in the dark void.

Maybe you should just end everything? Because life will never get better.

The tadpole suppresses your condition.

You suddenly feel good. You feel strong. You feel alive.

And the Emperor is particularly adamant that you embrace the tadpole potential.ccepting the tadpole potential.

"Remember how bad you felt before? It will get worse if you deny the tadpole. Once it's gone, your mind will drown in darkness again. But accept my offer, and you will never suffer again."

You recognize familiar patterns in Astarion's behavior.

His inability to make decisions.

The mess he made of his tent.

The way he sometimes sits and stares in the distance not moving at all.

That he doesn't really read, staring at the papers with mindless eyes.

Or quickly turning pages without understanding what is written there.

Or an extreme degree of anhedonia. He cannot taste wine or food, his senses are dulled, and nothing brings him joy except blood and sex (both of which have been unavailable to him for centuries).

You want to accept the tadpole. You don't want to go back to where you were. He doesn't want to either.

But when you take the astral tadpole, Astarion knocks it out of your hands and smashes it.

"You're in no condition to make decisions like that, dear," he says, grabbing your arm.

Neither is he.

You fear to have the tadpole removed.

When it is gone, it's worse than you expected.

You can't move. Can't think. The void is killing you.

You don't want to talk to anyone. You can't do anything. The only thing you are capable of is to crawl into the inn and lie there like in a coffin.

It will never get better.

Maybe, you should just off yourself?

And Astarion's absence only proves your thoughts. He isn't there, he's left. He doesn't need a burden like you.

The relapse is so bad you decide to find a way to end things.

You choose a lonely place and takes a dagger out.

You greet death like an old friend.

Only to wake up under a starry night sky.

With a familiar skeleton-like figure close to you.

Withers brought you back. But why? And how did he…

Before you manage to say anything coherent, you feel strong hands around your waist and a familiar scent.

Astarion cries holding you.

"I shouldn't have left you, I shouldn't have... I am so sorry..."

He was ashamed of himself. Of his own relapse.

But he could never thought you would kill yourself.

These six monthes were difficult for him.

Yes, he was free. He could do whatever he wanted.

But he was lonely. He had nightmares. Breakdowns.

He started looking for you only to realize you were dead.

Finding Withers was his only hope.

And you are back. Back to him.

Astarion takes you away from Baldur's Gate to the places you've never been before.

Basically making you run faster than your darkness.

Together you learn how to enjoy things.

You basically ask each other "What can we do rn to make ourselves feel better?"

A swim in the lake? A bath in the inn? A new piece of garment? Just staying together in the tent?

You hold each other from slipping into the void.

Eventually, you are advised to start taking some medicine made by clerics.

You take it once a day and you feel better, almost the same way you felt with the tadpole.

You take the double shot because Astairon drinks your blood to get this medicine for himself.

You both don't feel yourself that miserable anymore. You both cry less.

You sleep better, Astarion doesn't have nightmares.

You are good. Both of you.

It doesn't mean the darkness won't come back - but you are both ready to meet it.

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96

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skybluewritings · 5 months

Text

Last Summer: Felix Catton x fem!reader Part 1

Series Link:

Word count: 1.3K

Note: This will be a slight diversion to the plot of the film!

Series Masterlist

She'd never had as good a friend as Felix. There was something seriously human about him, he was the kind of person to look you in the eye when you spoke. He made you feel like there was no one else in the world he would rather be speaking to. She had been friends with him since their first year and like the rest of Oxford had become infatuated with him.

It had hit her one day just why he made her feel so giddy and nervous throughout their nearly three year friendship. They had been studying hard in his bedroom for upcoming exams, when she had looked up from her notebook.

She had been sat on his floor, back against the mattress, with him behind her up on the bed legs crossed. She had shifted herself to look up at him, his brows furrowed in concentration. Then his brown eyes gently met hers and her stomach had flipped.

He grinned at her. "What?"

"Oh nothing." She said with a laugh. "I think I'm just a little tired."

Except it wasn't nothing, she was all too aware of what it was she was feeling.

He sighed in agreement. "God me too! Let's take a break in a minute before my eyes slide out my head."

They had gone back to their respective studying although hers was now plagued by just how she was going to hide her newly realised feelings?

He had never given her any reason to suggest he felt the same. He was kind and respectful to her but he was like that with everyone. Despite their obvious close friendship their circle of friends seemed to sometimes suspect they were secretly hooking up. Sly looks and nudges were exchanged whenever the two left the room together. And this was particularly bought to light at one of the very last parties their final year of university.

They were all sat in the kitchen of some random person's house. The conversation up until then had been normal, the discussion being a reflection of their time spent at University.

Her friend sat opposite her, swirled her drink. "There's something that I-well we have always wondered."

(Name) intrigued leant forward a little. "Yeah what would that be?"

Her friend continued. "Why you and Felix never got off with eachother?"

"What sort of question is that?" (Name) asked laughing lightly.

"Yes exactly what sort of question is that, when they obviously have gotten off with eachother." Farleigh interjected with a smirk, the rest of the group snickered at his comment like school children.

She choked a little on her glass wine. She wiped at her chin with the sleeve of her cardigan, her face feeling very hot.

"There is no way that two people with that much chemistry have never once even kissed I don't believe it!" Another member of the group added.

Before she had a chance to defend herself, the worst possible thing happened. She felt slight pressure on the back of her chair, she glanced behind her to see Felix stood behind her both hand resting on the top of the chair. She wanted the fucking floor to open up and consume her whole.

"Who's never kissed?" Felix asked the group.

"You tell us." Farleigh told him giving his cousin a knowing look. "Or maybe (Name) can tell you."

(Name) felt her body turn rigid, she didn't look at Felix completely. "It was just a shit joke about a couple of our old lecturers." She blatantly lied.

Farleigh looked ready to pipe up again but before he could she rose from her seat.

"Felix do you fancy going for a cig?" She asked her best friend.

"Yes sure-" She quickly grabbed his wrist. "Oh okay."

The table burst out laughing, Felix gave her a confused look she chose to ignore. She steered them away from the table as he followed behind her slightly bewildered.

Once they were safely outside they lent against the wall, various students were littered across the back garden. She reached into her bag and realised she'd forgotten her cigarettes.

"Can I steal one of yours, I forgot mine." She apologised with a sigh.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack, taking one for himself and her. He lit his with ease before handing the lighter to her. She repeatedly tried to light the cigarette but the summer breeze stopped her.

"Here let me." He said, covering his hands over hers, forming a barrier against the air.

She tried to ignore the spark that ran through her hands as his own rested on hers. The cigarette was finally lit, she took a drag and rested her head against the wall with closed eyes.

There was silence for a few moments before he spoke. "Is everything alright with you?"

"Yeah I'm fine, just needed a break from all the people." She admitted, opening her eyes.

"Am I not also people?" He said jokingly.

"No you don't count." She replied.

He pretended to gasp. "So you don't see me as a person? Ouch."

She playfully rolled her eyes. "We both know that's not what I meant."

"Yeah I know." He told her with a soft smile that she returned.

He looked stunning in the golden evening light, chosing to wear a thin linen shirt the top few buttons undone. She smoothed out a crease in her short floral dress, somehow it helped distract her wandering mind.

"I can't believe it's all just over." She said waving her hand.

"Yeah me either. Soon you'll be abroad with your masters degree and I'll be here.." His voice seemed to trail off.

"You do know you can come visit me right?"

"Yes of course I do, which I'll definitely take you up on. But it doesn't mean I won't miss you."

Her chest tightened. "I'm-I'm not leaving for a month, plenty of time still left for us to hangout."

He nodded. "Definitely."

They both fell silent again. An international masters degree would be just what she needed to forget her feelings for him, this would be good for her!

"I have a bit of an idea." He told her.

"What would that be?" She asked carefully.

An excited glimmer appeared in his eyes. "Why don't you come spend your last month with me at my family home, we've been friends for so long that it's ridiculous you've never visited!"

She let out a surprised laugh. "Felix I would love to but are you sure that wouldn't be imposing on your family? I mean a month is a longtime."

He shook his head. "You wouldn't be imposing at all! You would actually be doing me a favour if anything, it'd be nice to finally have good memories of my summer at home."

She wondered what he meant by that, but chose to not press for answers just yet. Should she do this? She'd heard pleasant stories about his family and once even met his sister who was nice enough. And whilst she adored her own family and hometown friends it might be cool to spend a month in a huge country estate!

"You know what sure I'll come with you!" She agreed, hopeing she'd made the right choice his grin giving her some proof of that.

#friends to lovers #felix catton #saltburn #felix catton x reader #Felix catton x fem!reader

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navybrat817 · 1 year

Text

Down to Business

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Andy Barber x Female Reader Summary: You meet Andy for lunch and discuss a new potential job. Word Count: Almost 3.1k Warnings: Reader is broke (is that a warning?), sugar daddy offer, slightly d/irty thoughts, slight insecurities, slight power imbalance if you squint, inner monologue, Andy Barber (he's a warning, okay?) Graphic talent and thanks: Banner - @sgt-seabass, Divider - @firefly-graphics , Header - yours truly A/N: More of my Terms and Conditions AU! Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby and @flordeamatista (thanks!), but any and all mistakes are my own. ❤️ Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You knew you were out of your element the moment you stood in front of the restaurant. The pillars and steps were reminiscent of a courthouse, hence the name, but more lavish in design with the ornate marble. It seemed to tower over you, silently judging you for daring to set foot there. You didn't belong there, even if Andy had asked you to join him.

No. I'm not going to let him or myself down by chickening out.

Straightening the skirt of your dress and checking your folder once more to make sure you had your resume, you held your head high as you went inside. You wouldn't pretend to belong in a place this nice, but you refused to belittle yourself. You were smart, determined, and capable, which was how you got your old job. Whatever job Andy had to offer you, you'd make sure he knew you could handle it.

"Hello," you greeted the hostess. "I'm here to meet Andy Barber."

"Yes, he's expecting you," she smiled, giving you a quick once over. The dark blue dress you wore was, you hoped, nice and professional enough for the place and Andy. "Follow me, please."

The emptiness of the restaurant was eerily quiet and made you feel almost uncomfortable before you spotted Andy seated in the middle of the main room. Power clung to him as he rose to his feet, perfectly at ease as he buttoned his suit jacket. You would have thought you were a lamb headed for the slaughter if not for the gentle smile on his face. Your breath hitched before you smiled back and you were thankful you didn't trip over your feet.

"It's good to see you," he said, moving around to pull out your seat. "Thank you for joining me."

You were used to the barrier of the diner counter between the two of you and it hit you just how large and imposing he was up close. The man could break you if he wanted with his size, but it was the gentle smile on his face and the intensity of his blue eyes that struck you as he helped you into the seat. The gesture told you he was a gentleman, but his aura said something lurked beneath the surface.

"Thank you for asking me," you said, his musky cologne lingering as he went back to his chair. "I hope you weren't waiting long."

After Andy invited you to lunch, you downed some coffee and immediately got ready. You wanted to give yourself plenty of time so you wouldn't be late. It would've given a bad impression if you couldn't even be on time for lunch.

"Not at all," he said, the glittering chandelier above him giving him an otherworldly glow. "You look lovely."

Your heart raced as you caught him gazing at you. A man as attractive as Andy Barber calling you lovely felt like a dream. The crackling tension had to be your imagination. Wishful thinking.

"Thank you," you said, wondering if you should tell him how handsome he looked.

No. Don't flirt with your potential boss. Lusting after him won't do me any good.

You opted instead to look over the menu. You didn't see any prices and wondered how much everything cost. Or maybe people didn't care about what they spent at a place this nice. Since you had no clue what the cheapest selection would be, you decided to go with the entree that sounded the most appetizing.

"They have a nice wine selection if you're interested," Andy offered.

You glanced up and locked eyes with him. It was hard to get a read on him, but he likely had a good poker face from practicing law and his business ventures. You wondered how others reacted when he focused his attention on them. You refused to look away.

"I think I'll stick with water," you smiled. Not that there was anything wrong with having a drink in the middle of the day, but you were there to discuss business. He could have offered it as a test and you didn't want to fail. "I appreciate the offer though."

Andy hummed and leaned back in his seat. He didn't look upset, which was a good sign. "Nervous?"

I'm just sitting in one of the nicest places in the city with the most gorgeous man I ever laid eyes on who could change my future. No nerves at all.

"What makes you say that?" you asked.

"Your posture," he answered as he gestured to you. "Tension in your shoulders."

"Oh," you said, only a little surprised that he noticed. "Is it wrong to say that I am?"

"No, because I told you I appreciate honesty," he reminded you. "May I ask why you're nervous? What happened to being 'cautiously optimistic'?"

He listened to me.

"Because," you began, setting your hands in your lap so he wouldn't see you twist your fingers together. "I want to make a good impression and I don't want you to regret asking me to this lunch, especially since you went through the trouble of having them open the place."

I want my luck to turn around.

"If you hadn't made a good impression on me to begin with, I wouldn't have asked you to lunch," he spoke, reaching for your folder and opening it as your shoulders relaxed a bit. "Time is precious and I wouldn't waste mine or yours."

"That makes sense," you said as his eyes skimmed the paper. "I kept my objective simple since I wasn't sure what the position was, but I could update it if you need."

"No need," he said, lifting his gaze once he finished looking it over. "You have a wonderful resume, which I knew you would, and you're a hard worker. You have nothing to worry about. Trust me."

You felt your insides warm up from the praise that poured in. While Andy hadn't seen you in an office setting, he had seen you in action at the diner. He knew you had a can-do attitude and could remain calm under pressure. You were friendly even when people were rude. You just needed your luck to turn around so you could stay on top of your bills.

"Thank you," you whispered, the knot in your stomach unraveling. "I appreciate hearing that."

"It's the truth," he assured you before the waiter came over. "But why don't we order before we discuss anything further? Pick whatever you want."

"Okay," you smiled, mentally telling your stomach not to growl as the waiter poured you each a glass of water and went over the specials.

You took the opportunity to glance at Andy when he ordered, trying not to get lost in how confident he sounded while simply picking out something to eat. While he wasn't stern with the waiter, you noticed his voice wasn't as soft as how he spoke to you. Maybe it was a coincidence.

Maybe it was also a coincidence that he stared down the waiter when it was your turn to order. An unreadable expression again, but something colder. At least he wasn't rude to him.

"Did you have any questions for me?" you asked once the waiter left.

"Down to business, aren't you?" Andy smiled. "That depends on how the next part of this conversation will go. Have you heard of Huffman Enterprises?"

You nodded. Scott Huffman was another former lawyer and an associate of Andy's. The name came up when you did your research.

"He's expanding thanks to a merger and needs new employees," he explained, tapping the folder with his finger. "I know for a fact he has openings for positions similar to your previous job on what's likely a higher pay scale. All I have to do is make a call and he'll hire you on the spot."

You placed your hands on the table as you leaned forward slightly, trying not to appear too eager. You enjoyed your last job before they had to let you go. The opportunity sounded too good to be true though. And you weren't sure why, but it disappointed you that it was a friend of Andy's that would potentially be your boss and not Andy himself.

Maybe it was a blessing in disguise since I'd probably be too busy fantasizing about the man in front of me.

"That sounds wonderful, but why do I feel like there's a 'but' in there?"

"There's that cautiously optimistic side you talked about," he smiled sadly, the knot in your stomach starting to form again. "Because the job isn't available immediately. It will be a few months before you can start. I'm sorry it isn't sooner."

There it is.

Your heart sank, but you didn't hang your head. Maybe that was why Andy didn't tell you the exact details of the job. Had he said immediately that you couldn't start right away, maybe you wouldn't have taken him up on his offer to meet. It could still work if you had to tough it out for a few months. Maybe you could get a second job in the meantime to help cover your expenses.

Only maybe.

You jolted when his hand covered yours, snapping you out of your thoughts. "I can see the wheels turning in your head, honey. Be honest with me. Can you survive the next few months on what you're making now?"

Tears threatened to surface when you didn't answer. You would have to find a way, even if it ruined your credit if you couldn't stay on top of your bills. Or even if you lost your small apartment. You didn't want to be another crushed dreamer in the city.

"I didn't think so," he said, his voice laced with sympathy. "What if I offered to help you?"

"Help me how? By giving me a loan?"

No one helped for free and no way would you be able to pay him back within a reasonable timeframe. The interest alone would drain your bank account. It would be another circle of issues. You didn't want that with Andy or anyone else. You also didn't want to be a charity case.

He brushed his thumb over your hand in a featherlight motion before he pulled away. "Not a loan, but what if I got you caught up on your bills and covered your rent until you could start that job?"

"And what would I have to do for you, Mr. Barber?" you carefully asked.

"I told you to call me Andy," he said, his eyes not leaving yours as he sipped his drink.

Heat rolled down your chest as he licked the liquid from his lip. "What would I have to do for you, Andy?"

"Be there for me," he stated as a matter of fact, running his fingers along his beard. They were so long and thick. "I have some functions to attend and some traveling to do over the next few months. I need someone by my side for all of them and I want that person to be you."

"An assistant?"

He shook his head. "I have an assistant. I'd like you to be my companion."

It wasn't humiliation that washed over you as he waited for you to speak. A wave of shock, perhaps, as you processed his words. Maybe you hadn't heard him correctly.

You waited for the laughter. The punchline. It wasn't a job he was offering you.

It was something else entirely.

"You want me to be an escort?" you asked just above a whisper.

"If ‘escort’ is what you want to call it, but I prefer companion," he said, the corner of his lip lifting. "Escorts sometimes sleep with their clients and I didn't say you have to sleep with me."

You were thankful you didn't have a drink in your mouth. You likely would've spit it out or choked. Maybe he didn't say it, but did he want it? Would he ask that of you?

Would he eventually expect that of me?

"First thing, if you agree, you'll have to quit the diner so you'll be available. Which means you can't take another job in the meantime. I'll have clothes and jewelry bought for you and also give you petty cash in a sense for anything else you need. I'll cover your bills and expenses, so you won't need to worry about that," he explained when you stayed quiet.

"All that just for a few functions?" you asked skeptically. It seemed to be a bit much.

"Some of the traveling would be for days at a time. I'm hoping you and I can get to know each other a bit before those take place so you feel comfortable," he said. Hearing that made sense since the two of you didn't know each other very well. "And I won't ask you to move in with me since that's both fast and takes away your independence, but I would feel more comfortable knowing you're not alone in your current apartment. I have a place in my building you could use in the meantime."

You exhaled once he finished. The man seemed to thrive on control and he would essentially take over your life if you agreed. No job meant no income unless he gave it to you. Even living in a nicer place, it was his building.

"I don't understand. Why me?" you asked, searching for something on his face that could give you an answer.

It didn't make sense to you. He could hire someone if he needed dates to functions. He could find any woman on the sidewalk if he wanted to.

Why was he asking you?

You didn't jump this time when he put his hand back on yours. "Because you're one of the only honest and kind people I've met in a long time and you shouldn't have to struggle. I want to help you, even if it's just for a short time," he said, your heart skipping a beat when he smiled a little. "And between us, I'm a bit lonely and I like talking to you."

The vulnerability in his gaze was an emotion he was allowing you to see. It was enough to shake your resolve because you understood how loneliness could eat at a person. And while you didn't find yourself interesting to talk to, he deserved to have someone in his life who didn't try to use him for their gain. He probably had more than his fair share of that.

I'm not using him if he's offering, right? I wouldn't take more than necessary. Just enough until things were right again. Still doesn't seem like a fair trade.

"Say I agree to this. When the job comes up, that's the end of our arrangement?"

"If that's what you'd like," he answered evenly. "You'd be working, so I wouldn't exactly be able to whisk you away on a whim. And you'd start with a clean slate so to speak since everything would be paid for until you receive your first paycheck."

That was something to consider. "And if I say no?"

"Then I pay for your lunch and your cab and contact you when the job opens up down the road," he offered with a casual shrug. "If you still want it, it's yours. If not, no harm done."

That surprised you. Andy would have nothing to gain by setting you up for a job if you didn't agree to spend time with him. And you didn't get the sense that he would sabotage your chances if you turned him down. It was as if he wanted you to succeed.

Who are you, Andy Barber?

"I think I know why you asked me to meet you here."

"And why is that?" he asked.

"You didn't want to speak over the phone because I could have hung up or blocked your number if your offer upset me, so you chose this place. Almost a middle ground, but a place where you still hold the cards because you're showing me what I can have if I agree to this," you said, waving your hand toward one of the empty tables. "You also chose to speak to me alone in a semi-public place. The public aspect so I wouldn't be uncomfortable, but alone as a way to keep my dignity intact in case I insulted you or worse. It's smart."

And a power move while still considering my feelings.

He gave you a single nod, seemingly impressed. "That's a good analysis and I'd have to agree with you. I'd like to add it was also to keep my dignity intact in case you threw your drink in my face or slapped me."

"I imagine the staff here would be discreet on your part," you smiled. "And lunch isn't over yet. There's still time in case I decide to make a scene."

His warm chuckle sent heat down your spine. "I'll be on my best behavior to ensure you don't, though I wouldn't mind."

"I'll need to think about it," you told him, smiling more despite yourself. It was a lot to consider. "And we'll need to discuss specifics."

"You're talking to a former lawyer. I'd insult myself if I didn't have some kind of contract drawn up for the two of us."

"A Sugar Daddy contract?" you teased before you could stop yourself.

God, why did I say that?

The waiter chose to return at that moment, the enticing aroma of the food filling the air. Andy didn't take his darkened eyes off you as he dragged his teeth along his bottom lip. You barely managed to say "thanks" when the plates were put on the table, too entranced with the man across the table. Virtually a stranger, but determined to help you and get a little something from you in return.

"Call me 'daddy', honey, and I can't promise I'll be on my best behavior, but if it will convince you to be mine? Say it all you want," he said in a low voice, deep enough to make you rub your thighs together as he smirked. "So. Exactly how much time will you need to think it over?"

You sat in thought for a moment as you tried to weigh out his offer. "I'll let you know how much time I need after we're finished with our lunch," you finally answered with a small smile.

And you had a feeling you'd say "yes" a lot sooner than you thought.

So, yes. The answer HAS to be yes. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Andy Barber Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #andy barber x reader #andy barber x female reader #andy barber x you #andy barber x y/n #sugar daddy!andy barber x reader #andy barber #sugar daddy!andy barber #andy barber fanfiction #andy barber imagine #andy barber au #sugar daddy au #terms and conditions au #chris evans x reader #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x you

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lynnbanks · 7 days

Text

It was the first real day out on the lake for the summer with all the boys and a few of the girlfriends including y/n. The sun was high and so was the energy so much so that she had forgotten to re-apply sunscreen leaving her as red as a tomato after her post-lake shower.

Getting sunburnt was never really a problem for her because of her skin type her mother was Caucasian and her father was Micronesian so she was fairly tan most of the year and would turn 3 shades darker in the summer; so sunscreen was never her main priority when having fun on the boat even though she would usually tell her boyfriend to re-apply every chance she got. Today it had just slipped her mind.

And she was left to deal with the consequences looking in the mirror and frowning at what she saw; making quick work to get the aloe vera and applying head to toe or at least what she could reach.

“ LUKE” she yelled out to her boyfriend sitting on the bed “Can you help me real quick?” Luke walked in and before he could agree “What the fuck baby that is bad.” he said looking at her back “I know I need help” she wines “Can you put some of this on my back please” handing him the bottle of aloe.

“This is why you need to put on sunscreen my love this is going to take like a week to heal,” he said in a voice of pity and y/n just frowned at him in the mirror. After thoroughly applying letting it dry and then applying it again.

“There is no way I am going to be able to wear a bra” she said as she pulled a shirt over her head trying to be as careful as possible. “ maybe it's not so bad you got burnt after all,” Luke said with a smirk causing y/n to hit him with her towel “ that is not nice Luke,” she said with a pout “I'm sorry baby I was joking,” he said pulling her to his chest “ we need to get some food in you and some water you will feel better then hmm?” she shook her head yes but didn't pull away just yet.

Down in the kitchen, Luke started preparing a plate for her full of the chicken Jack had just grilled on the new grill he got for his birthday now that he had learned how to cook and all the other sides. Before setting it down in front of y/n “thank you lukey you are very sweet” Leaning up for a kiss he gladly reciprocated “You are very welcome baby”

It wasn't until the next morning that the whole no-bra thing started messing with his head. Y/n was feeling much better and was in the bathroom brushing her teeth when Luke walked in greeting her with a lopsided smile “Good morning baby” “Good morning handsome” she said before rinsing her mouth.

Luke was about to grab his toothbrush before something In the mirror caught his attention; his girlfriend's perfect boobs staring right at him as she started her skincare. Good God that was a direction he thought before continuing his morning routine.

Not even 30 minutes later did it happen again this time in the middle of the conversation he was having with her about breakfast “Lu are you listening” she asked “I-um yeah I'm listening” That was a lie.

And again about an hour later when they had made their way out to the hammock they sat in every day at least once. When she had laid down on his chest and he could feel her boob press to his chest in a way they couldn't when she had a bra on; causing a groan to slip out of his throat.

“Sorry Lu I didn't mean to hurt you” y/n said trying to sit up but before she could Luke pulled her down to where she was “It's not that it's these,” he said slipping a hand up into her shirt, and giving her a hard squeeze “ oh” she moans slightly “ my boobs are the problem?” “ they might be if we don't do something about it right now,” he said voice low even though they were the only ones outside “Well we aren't doing anything about it out here that is for sure.”

And I will leave the rest for y'all to imagine <3

#luke hughes #luke hughes x you #luke hughes blurb #luke hughes x reader #lukey pookie

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gentlyweeps-world · 6 months

Text

Wine and Lies 3

summary: A dinner date turns into a heartbreak. But maybe, you could get revenge.

pairing: carlos sainz x fem! reader, charles leclerc x fem! reader

warnings: alcohol consumption, toxic relationship, cheating, sexual tension, fem oral receiving, smut, !!!!!16+!!!!!

Previously:“How long have you wanted this?” he asks softly, his voice low, only you can hear it in the loud club.

“How long have you wanted me?” he adds, his voice sounding almost demanding.

“Tell me.”

“Months..” You whisper out, but that wasn’t the truth. You knew that this, between you and Charles, was just to get at Carlos.

But who’s to say you couldn’t have your fun with it? Charles is, after all, an attractive guy. And you had a soft spot for him. You knew you already had him wrapped around your pinky, just like Carlos. It was time for you to have your fun.

LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO

He smiles hearing your words, his fingers trailing up your back as he leans forward his lips touching your ear. His lips softly move to your neck, touching it, you can feel his breath on it.

He softly kisses you there gently, his hands roaming down your body. “Good girl” he whispers in your ear, his voice sounding almost predatory in its tone.

You lean back into him, pressing your back firmly against his chest.

His fingers grip hold of your waist again, his hands guiding your hips. You sway your hips with the movement of the music, his lips trailing down your neck as the song changes to something with a faster pace.

He smiles as you lean back into him, his hands once holding your waist now travel elsewhere, his fingers trailing up your thighs making you shiver as his lips continue to kiss your neck.

He moves you in time with the music and with his body as he rocks back and forth against you, his hands making their way to something else soon.

You feel yourself grow in a daze, getting lost between the feeling of Charles, the pounding of the music and flashing lights of the club.

He pulls you away from the dance floor slowly making you stumble but he’s got your back holding onto you so you don't lose your balance. You’re both out of the dance floor now he finds a corner of the club not far from the dance floor and away from the noise and people his lips continue to touch your neck as his hands work their way down your body.

He backs you up into the corner, lips pressed against your neck as his hands grip at your body. Your back hits the wall as his hands slide up your thighs, his one hand sliding in between your legs as he traces his finger along your clothed center, feeling your wetness through your panties.

“Charles…” You whimper out, legs shaky as you grip his bicep with a hand. “Someone might see..” You add on.

“It’ll be fine, I’m blocking you, people will only think we’re making out..” He breaths out, his free hand sliding up to lightly wrap around your neck. He presses his lips against yours again, slipping his fingers past your panties.

You feel his finger sliding between your folds, collecting your wetness. You moan against his lips, legs spreading wider for him. “Good girl, so wet for me cheri..” He mumbles against your lips, finally thrusting a finger into you.

“Oh my god..” You gasp out, head leaning back as he curls his finger in and out of you, adding another one.

“Is that good cheri? Better than Carlos ever fingered you? Huh?” He growls into your ear, squeezing at your neck tighter.

“Yes..yes” You whimper out, eyes closing shut as you focus on the feeling of his fingers curling in and out of your pussy. Gasps and moans spew from your lips but are drowned out from the pounding music of the club.

“Look at me”

With a whimper you open your eyes to meet his blue ones, letting out a moan as he has a look of pure bliss on his face. He curls his fingers into you deeper, hitting just the right spot. You let out a high pitched moan, Charles quickly releases his grip from your neck and covers your mouth. Quieting your moans.

“Fuck cheri, you are a beautiful sight..” He mumbles out, eyes raking over your body. Your legs grow shakier and shakier as he keeps up his relentless pass with his fingers.

He moves closer towards you, placing his leg between your two to make sure your legs are spread wide enough. Moans and whimpers are masked behind his hand, your eyes roll back as you cum around his fingers, legs shaking.

“What a good girl…” He whispers out to you, slowly thrusting his fingers still, letting you ride out your orgasm.

Charles slowly slips his fingers out of you, you could barely make them out in the darkness, but you saw the unmistakable glistening of them.

With a smirk he removes his hand from your mouth and places a kiss to your lips, now with that hand he pulls his phone from his pocket and takes a picture of his fingers, making sure to get your dress in frame too.

“What..are you..?” You mumble out, leaning over you see him send the picture to Carlos. “Aren’t you two friends?” You ask confusedly as he slips his phone back into his pocket, then you watch him suck off your juices from his other fingers.

“Him and I are work friends..” He says, placing a hand on your waist as he goes in for another kiss.

He places a kiss to your lips, and as you pull back slightly he leans in once more, his lips slowly making their way down, kissing the skin of your neck softly.

You could feel the faint buzz of you phone in your purse, you grab your phone as Charles is kissing you neck, seeing texts and missed calls from Carlos.

“Looks like he saw your message” You mumble out to Charles.

Charles pulls back for a moment, noticing your phone in your hand.

“What did he say?” He whispers softly into your ear, his words sounding almost hungry as you can feel his hot breath against your neck.

“Where are you, why are you with Charles, you’re such a whore, I’m the only one allowed to touch you, blah blah blah..” You say, scrolling through the many texts Carlos sent.

“Good, now he’s distracted” Charles says softly, you can see him give a quick but subtle smirk.

“If you're up for it, want me to keep going? We could go back to my place or book a hotel room for the night?” He whispers into your ear.

“Might be safer to book a hotel room..” You whisper back, putting your phone away as you trail your hand down his chest.

Charles takes a second to let out a soft moan as your hand trails down his chest.

“That might be for the best” he replies, leaning into you. He pushes his hand up under your dress as he trails kisses along your neck, your clothes being the only thing between him and you.

"I need you Y/n" He says, his voice sounding thick and low as he pushes your hand off his chest, grabbing your wrist and placing your hand over his belt.

You grip his belt, pulling him closer into you by it. “Let’s go then..” You whisper against his lips. Eyes on his.

"Good girl" he says softly, his hand squeezing on your wrist. "Come on" he adds on, his voice sounding almost husky as he starts leading you towards the exit.

As he walks you to his car you can't keep your hands off him and he can see it, but he doesn't stop you. He sees the excitement on your face of getting revenge on Carlos.

Before you know it you’re being pressed up against a hotel room wall with Charles hands all over you, his lips pressed up right against yours.

You feel his tongue slip into your mouth as you two make out, hands grasping at each others clothes. Soon you pull away from him and pull his shirt over his head as he helps you slip off your dress.

Charles eyes go wide and his mouth dry, “Fuck…Ferrari red..” he mumbles out seeing the Ferrari red panties and bra you had adored.

You smirk at his reaction, quickly unbuckling his belt and pulling it off of him, you unbutton and zip down his pants, leaving you both in your underwear.

Standing there you both admire each other, until Charles picks you up and throws you on the bed. You let out a squeal as your body bounces off the bed.

“Oh cheri..I’m about to fuck you way better than Carlos ever has..” Charles growls out, spreading you legs wide as you lean up on your elbows.

He presses a kiss to your lips before he trails them down your neck, shoulders, chest, kissing at your hardened nipples through your bra.

You gasp at the feeling, his kisses going lower until he’s at the top of your panties, he looks up at you asking for permission to continue.

“It’s okay..” You mumble out, eyes already dazed over. With a grin he pulls down your panties, exposing you to his gaze.

“Ohhh cheri…so so beautiful..” He whispers out, admiring the view in front of him, he then takes your thighs and places them on top his shoulders, not planning on getting up anytime soon.

You silently watch him with a parted mouth, anticipation filling your body, then he licks a stripe up your pussy, enticing a gasp out of you.

“Fuck…” he mutters to himself before pulling you closer into his face, letting himself finally eat you out.

“Oh my..oh my god Charles..” You gasp out, clutching at his hair with a hand. “Mmmm you taste so good Y/n” He mumbles out against you, flicking his tongue against your clit a few times.

He reached up with a hand and grasps at one of your breasts, not getting enough of you. You can feel his tongue prodding at your center, “Charles,..Charles please” You gasp out. Looking down at him has you almost cummimg against his tongue, his glossed over eyes, disheveled hair and puffy red lips.

“Give me one more moment cheri..” He mumbles out before going back to his previous activities, savoring your taste and juices.

But a tug at his hair has him groaning, “Okay..okay I’ll come up cheri..” He says softly with a chuckle, lightly pressing kisses up your body until he reaches your lips once more.

His lips meet yours in a heated kiss, teeth clashing and tongues exploring what they could. You grasp at his hair, letting one hand trail down his body to cup at his boner, gently squeezing it.

“Fuck..I need you Y/n” He gasps against your lips, hips bucking into your hand. “I need you too Charles..” you whisper out, your own eyes meeting his blue ones.

Slipping your hand into his boxers you pull them down enough to release his cock from the restraints, he lets out a small groan at the feeling. You spit into your hand and gently stroke his shaft, studying his reactions.

“Get on your stomach..” He growls out, flipping your body so you’re on your back now, knees bent with your ass up. Back arching for him, he places a slap on one of your ass checks.

“So beautiful..” he murmurs out to himself. With your face pressed against the side of the bed you see him go grab his phone and place it on the bed, as it rings.

“What are you…” You say before being cut off by him thrusting into you. A moan falls from your lips, clutching at the bedsheets.

“Oh my god Charles..” You moan out, eyes rolling back as he thrusts into you deeper. You could feel every vein and ridge of his cock. It drove you crazy.

“Yeah? You like that cheri..” he says with a smirk, one hand on your hip, as he keeps up with his relentless pace. His other hand grabs at your hair, forcing you to arch your back even more for him somehow.

Then you hear it, faint breathing coming from the phone, followed by an all too familiar mierda.

He called Carlos. He knew exactly what to do to get under Carlos’s skin.

Carlos could hear yours and Charles moans, skin against skin and the bed creaking. He could hear all of it, and it only turned you on more.

“You like that? You like that he can hear me fucking you cheri?” Charles mutters out lowly, grabbing your hair, pulling you so your back is flush to his chest. “Answer me Y/n…I’m sure Carlos is waiting”, he adds on, whispering it into your ear as he litters kisses against your neck.

“Yes…yes, fuck Charles..” You gasp out, eyes rolling back as your response made him fuck into you harder. You glance down at his phone, seeing that Carlos still hasn’t hung up.

“Fucking whore” Carlos mutters out before hanging up, but you were too lost within Charles to care.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

radio 🪩: Had to do it to em. I’ll probably be working on this series for the meantime, but I will take requests 💙 (I apologize if my writing was bad, I haven’t written smut in a while and I’m busy with uni and work)

taglist: @janeholt3 @lightdragonrayne @roseseraj

next part

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mcflymemes · 7 months

Text

AS SAID BY DORIAN PAVUS * assorted dialogue from dragon age inquisition, updated version

i don't care what they think about me. i care what they think about us.

i like you. more than i should. more than might be wise.

discretion isn't your thing, is it?

all this dancing, politics, and murder makes me a bit homesick.

i suppose it really depends. how bad do you want to be?

living a lie... it festers inside of you, like poison.

i'm a man of many talents. what can i say?

the moment i saw you, i thought "there's a man who knows quality."

if you don't come through this, i swear i'll kill you.

i'm curious where this goes, you and i. we've had fun. perfectly reasonable to leave it here.

here is my proposal: we dispense with the chitchat and move on to something more primal.

i tease you too much, i know.

i'll have to find something we can do that doesn't involve teasing.

time to drink myself into a stupor. it's been that sort of day.

i see you enjoy playing with fire.

i like playing hard to get.

i'm not suggesting we venture into mutual domesticity.

if it's a trap, we escape and kill everyone. you're good at that.

talk to me. let me hear how mystified you are by my anger.

oh, i'm not arguing. just pointing out the ridiculously obvious.

if you choose to leave your door unlocked like a savage, i may or may not come.

now... what was i talking about? ah, yes. me.

i am apparently an incredible ass at accepting gifts.

i prefer the company of men.

would you prefer me bound and leashed?

sometimes the ones you love are also the ones who disappoint you the most.

you are the man i love, [name]. nothing will truly keep us apart.

the things you ask are just... very personal.

sometimes... love isn't enough.

there will always be an "us." we'll just be... farther apart, for a time.

i had no idea something like you was possible.

i'm imagining what you would look like in a dress.

i've never seen you smile so much!

i have no idea what you're talking about.

you stand there, flexing your muscles, huffing like some beast of burden with no thought save conquest.

you're shaping the world for good or ill. how could i aspire to do any less?

my footsies are freezing, thank you.

don't you ever bathe?

you're not suggesting we're similar.

watch where you're pointing that thing!

i'm not wearing a skirt.

it's significantly more impressive than hitting them with a sharp piece of metal.

i only meant to say i'm very sorry for your loss.

we can continue this dance forever, if you wish.

i'm saying we should be careful what we assume when it comes to such matters.

demons don't appreciate a man with good hair.

what i wouldn't give for some proper wine.

your outfit's entertaining. i'll give you that.

he had to leave early on account of assassination.

it's nice to know you have friends.

i'm here to do what is right.

come on, just answer the question.

they were asking me about you. personal things.

you said we'd be ass-deep in trouble. this is more like knee-high.

so what's your estimation? think we can win?

you can't call me pampered. nobody's peeled a grape for me in weeks.

you startled me. you're always so... nondescript.

you're a special and unique snowflake. live the dream.

i wanted to see you make flowers bloom with your song. just once.

you've done a lot less dancing naked in the moonlight than expected.

i've never seen anyone in this part of the world do it.

i realize there's more to you than that.

have i offended you?

for hating the outdoors, you sure seem to like bad weather.

i can't figure you out, [name].

you don't play their stupid game, they send an assassin or three your way.

i can't believe you're scared of magic.

i'm going to take that as a compliment.

still don't like me, [name]? after all this time?

[name], i owe you an apology.

i suspect people will use any excuse to hate us.

why be ashamed? power should be respected, not swept under the carpet.

maybe you're not a complete moron.

i just need to know you're capable of higher thought. for my own comfort.

it would take work. and soap. lots and lots of soap.

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stuffeddeer · 3 months

Note

hii hru? i have a fic request umm i have this idea thats been sitting in my head for TOO LONG... i need to get it out how would bsd men (your choice) react to a reader who is too nice of a person, basically an ANGEL but seeks love from people who treats them like shit.,,.,. n theyre always like "nono theyre a great friend" (i need to stop doing this though it happens too many times)

ok bye!! have a lovely day!!!!!!

if someone treats me wrongly i will treat them wrongER. i do not start shit but i will End It. i included Dazai, Ranpo, Nikolai, Atsushi and Chuuya :) ive never written for Chuuya and Atsushi but i just kept typing so umm mb!! don’t read the last two unless ur crazy

Dazai would be so frustrated internally. He had been one of those people you give such patience to, and he knows everyone else is only preying that kind nature. He’d subtly try and point out that what they’re doing is bad, but he has always preferred a less direct approach. Threatening. Okay, yes yes, Dazai has turned over a new leaf, but as long as he doesn’t hurt or kill it’s fine, right? Are mild and “empty” threats really that bad? He’d chase away those people easily, helping you to meet others like his coworkers at the Agency or reminding you of the good friends you have and how you should spend more time with them. If you’re the type to tolerate rudeness from others but Not tolerate it when people are rude to your friends, Dazai would lie and claim that these assholes wronged him in some devastating way so you never forgive them.

Ranpo would (metaphorically) hit you upside the head. What do you think you’re doing, letting anyone treat you as less than you are? Not because he cares for you (so he claims), but because you’re associated with him! By allowing these, for lack of a better word, losers to treat you so awfully, you’re taking down his image with you! How would people react if they knew that the greatest detective allowed his friend (..?) to be treated so horribly? That he of all people couldn’t knock some sense into you? He’d huff, reminding you that you’d only need him and the Agency anyway, so why waste your time with such imbeciles 🙄

Nikolai is the one who treats you like shit. He hadn’t originally meant to — not any more than usual, that is — but watching you defend horrible actions from people that didn’t matter made him wonder if you’d do the same for those that do (being him, of course). He’d change at the drop of a hat, doting on you and cherishing you to kicking you out and ghosting you for weeks. But when he messaged you once again, you’d find yourself back on a bus approaching his apartment. Because of course you are, how could you leave Nikolai when he’s been so kind to you? He said he was busy, and what reason did you have not to believe him?

Atsushi would see himself in you but it’d just be a cycle. You’d see others treating him poorly and get angry, and he’d see people doing that with you, but you both would defend your “friends” up and down until exhaustion kept you from continuing. Atsushi is used to being used, so it’s fine, and seemingly so are you, so you’re fine, and it just repeats forever. But, if Atsushi’s options are to hang out with you or those jerks, then you’ll just have to spend more time with him. And if your options are to hang out with him or those jerks, he’ll just have to spend more time with you. The cycle ends, but without any real confrontation, which is how the both of you would prefer it.

Chuuya: your loyal guard dog. If he can’t convince you not to see “those piece of shit, dumbass jerks” ever again he’d tag along. Everything except barking would be on the table - he’d growl when they talked over you or break a finger if he had to. This is the man you want by your side, because he’d fight for your honor when he needs to or take you back to his place for a soothing spa-adjacent bath with amazing scented candles and over the top bubbles, maybe a glass of expensive wine, to unwind and forget it all. Also he’d block their numbers from your phone and threaten them to never contact you again 💀

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libraryofgage · 10 months

Text

Saw the Barbie movie the other day and Billie Eilish's "What Was I Made For" (click the song title to listen to it lol) hit so fuckin different good lord. Anyway, it's perfect for Steve angst with a dash of platonic Stobin and romantic Steddie fluff so ;)

---

Steve is five when he learns that he was made to keep his parents together. At least, that's why his mother made him.

He learns it one night when his father is staying late at the company (before his mother started accompanying him all the time, leaving an empty house and Steve behind; Steve can confidently say his presence did, in fact, fix their relationship: it gave them something to unite against). His mother is three large glasses of red wine in, draped inelegantly on the couch and slurring her words with a glassy film covering her eyes.

"Steven, you were supposed...supposed to make him stay," she says, her fourth glass of wine dangerously close to spilling across the white rug. "An-and he's still gone! What did we do wrong?"

Despite the use of "we," Steve knows very well (even at the age of five) that his mother means "What did you do wrong?" He doesn't have an answer for her--he never will--and that seems to be just one more thing she holds against him.

Steve is seven when he learns that he was made to keep the family name strong and respected. At least, that's why his father made him.

He learns it when his father brings him to work, his stern expression and tense shoulders telling Steve to behave himself, to be seen and not heard the entire day (he did, and it worked a little too well; after falling asleep on the couch, his father had forgotten him at work, leaving him to spend the night in the locked office). His father is sitting at his desk, expensive pen in hand and phone just hung up after a tense conversation that ended with the most genuine smile Steve has ever seen from him.

"Steven, I hope you've been paying attention today," he says, placing the pen on the desk and fixing him with a suffocating gaze. "You'll be working here one day, and I expect you to make something of yourself when you do. You're to be a model man, someone I can proudly introduce to others."

When his father says proudly, Steve knows he means that he can't do that now because Steve has yet to make something of himself. Steve nods once, says a firm but not too loud, "Yes, sir," and his father goes back to work.

Steve is sixteen when he learns Nancy made him her boyfriend for...for a distraction? Because it's what was expected of her? Because she was curious? At least, that's what Nancy seems to be saying.

Honestly, Steve isn't sure she knows, either. But she definitely knows that he wasn't what she wanted, that he wasn't what she expected, that he couldn't live up to the expectations she had made for him.

Either way, he learned it over the course of their relationship, but it all hit him at the very end, when fights and names (idiot, asshole, and dick, to list a few) compounded into a breakup that left him aching, angry, empty, hurt, and desperate to know what he did wrong.

Maybe then he'd be able to save himself from making the same mistake over and over. Because it must be him, right? It must be something he's doing; if only he could figure out what that is.

Steve is seventeen when he learns that maybe he was made to be a shield. At least, that's how he understands the plan Dustin comes up with wherein he calls Steve their tank.

He learns it when they're huddled together at some point, readying to face demodogs and whatever else the Upside Down has decided to throw at them. Dustin is explaining the plan, his eyes bright as he throws around terms Steve can't recognize. "And Steve is going to be our tank," he says.

"What's a tank?" Steve asks, at least certain they don't mean the military kind of tank.

"Like a meatshield, duh," Mike tells him, the explanation short and quick and then disregarded in favor of the rest of the plan.

Maybe Steve should have felt hurt, but part of him is more excited by the fact that he could do well as a tank, a meatshield. He could, in fact, be made for that role. He's great at taking a punch, great at jumping back to his feet, great at putting himself between the kids and whatever wants to kill them.

The only way he could possibly fail at being a shield is by dying, and he doesn't plan to die just yet.

Steve is eighteen when he wonders if maybe he's made to love. At least, that's a realization he has after befriending Robin, getting tortured together, and learning he doesn't need romance to love someone. It's a realization he throws himself into wholeheartedly one day when he looks at Robin and sees her trying to drink a slushie with a Twizzler.

"I think I love you," he blurts out, unable to hold the words in and feeling bad for it when Robin subsequently chokes on Twizzler and Cherry slush.

She spits out the slushie, tosses her Twizzler into the cup, and spins around to look at Steve. "We've definitely talked about this, dingus," she says, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. "You got amnesia or something?"

Steve rolls his eyes and pushes her. "Not like that. I mean, like, a friend. I love you, Robin. You mean a lot to me, and I hope we're still friends when we're 80 so we can make fun of other people in our nursing home."

Robin breaks out into a grin that she quickly suppresses. "Ugh, affection," she sneers, turning her nose up. It lasts all of three seconds before she glances at Steve from the corner of her eye and adds, "I love you, too, dingus."

Steve is nineteen when he decides that he's made for love, to give and receive and bask in its warmth. At least, that's what he decides when he's with Eddie, sprawled across his bed and listening to the mixtape he made for Steve.

They've been dancing around each other for a while up to that point: obnoxiously obvious flirtations, finding any excuse to brush against each other or share space or lean together, creating reasons to hang out with some as simple as "I'm just bored." Steve has been enjoying it; they both seem to understand what's inevitable, and they're just taking their time getting there.

And right now, listening to Eddie sing along to Metallica, Steve thinks that he wants to stop dancing around each other and dance together, instead. So, he turns onto his side, places a hand on Eddie's arm, waits until Eddie is looking at him with a bright smile and curious eyes, and says, "I was made for loving you."

Instead of the joy Steve was expecting, Eddie just looks confused. "How'd you know that was the next song?" he asks.

"What?"

"On the mix tape. I Was Made for Loving You by KISS. That's the next song," Eddie explains.

Steve blinks and frowns. He sits up, throws a leg over Eddie's hips, and settles on top of him. Eddie doesn't look surprised, since it's not the first time Steve has done this. Usually, it just means Steve wants him to pay close attention. "I didn't know it was the next song, Eds."

It takes a few moments for Eddie to fully understand what he means. And Steve gets a front-row seat to the confusion that morphs into understanding that morphs into amazement. "Oh," Eddie breathes, pushing himself up to rest on his elbows. "Could you say it again? I don't think I heard you the first time, Stevie."

Steve snorts but humors Eddie anyway. "I was made for loving you," he says, softer this time and leaning closer.

"Yeah, much clearer that time." Eddie's grin is wide and blinding before he closes the distance between them. "I was made for loving you, too, sweetheart," he whispers back, his words pressed against Steve's lips and searing into his heart.

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #steve harrington angst #steddie fluff #platonic stobin #stranger things #stranger things fic #Barbie movie soundtrack hits different ngl #can we also talk about Steve just being barbie?#like #he starts as a Ken and becomes a Barbie #tell me i'm wrong you can't #also I'm realizing Steve is a character that turns in my mind at supersonic speed #and Steddie by extension cuz gosh those boys could be so good together

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 22 days

Text

As the World Turns 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, manipulation, imbalanced power dynamics, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your new job takes you to new places with lots of new people.

Characters: Nick Fowler, Jonathan Pine, Lloyd Hansen

Note: I know I shouldn’t have done this.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

“I might hear you out,” Mr. Hansen, or Lloyd, sits back as he slurps from a rounded class of cognac, “as long as you bring this pretty little thing along tomorrow.”

You chew quietly on a piece of lettuce and look around. You search the table for whatever he means, confused by the statement. Your eyes flick up to meet his and you gulp, realising he’s referring to you. Oh.

He called you pretty but it just feels off. You give a tight-lipped smile and reach for your sparkling water. He brings his hand over the top to stop you as Fowler sighs.

“She’ll keep the minutes,” your boss grumbles.

“How about some wine, baby face?” Lloyd leans forward.

“Uh, I don’t drink, thanks,” you answer sheepishly. You’d already told him as much but it hasn’t kept him from offering more than once.

“Boring,” he mutters and retracts his hand. “Gonna be a long vacation if you don’t loosen up.”

“She’s not on vacation, she’s working,” Fowler girds as he tosses his napkin on his plate. “You’re really gonna drag this out, aren’t you?”

“Drag what out?” Lloyd winks as he sits back, gripping one leg as his other sways.

“The deal.”

“You gotta wine and dine before you get between my thighs,” the other man taunts. “What’s for dessert?”

Fowler exhales slowly, jaw tense as he eyes the other man. You glance between them then over your shoulder. Maybe the server could bring the dessert menu.

“You know I don’t sleep well in a strange land without someone to keep me warm--”

“Cut it out,” Fowler warns his acquaintance harshly, “we got an early morning.”

His chair scrapes as he stands, drawing your attention back to the table. You feel like you might wilt as you meet the heat of Lloyd’s fervent gaze. He has an elbow beside his plate, his glass in his hand as he hovers it before his mouth and stares. He sips then pokes out his tongue in a way that makes you nervous.

Your wide eyes skirt over to your boss and you push yourself from your chair.

“Just like you to cut the fun short--”

“I was on a plane half the day, I don’t have the energy for you,” Fowler takes out his wallet and drops a wad of bills on the plate, “dinner’s on me.”

“And I’d like dessert on me,” Lloyd harrumphs and drains his glass, slamming it down on the stem as he lets out a heavy sigh. He stands and tugs at his belt without shame. You sidle away and push the chair in, staying close to your boss.

“We’ll talk more. I’m not leaving without a deal, Hansen.”

“We’ll see about that,” Lloyd slaps his chest and stifles a belch behind his fist, “guess I'll hit the massage parlour again.” He rolls his neck and winks at you, “stiff from the flight.”

“Come on,” Fowler ignores whatever inference his colleague makes and spins on his heel, then gestures to you, “let’s get going.”

“Oh, uh, yes, sir,” you turn to follow.

“Mmm, yes, sir,” Lloyd mimics in a purr as you prance off.

You tap out next to your boss as he checks his watch. He raises his hands to swipe over his face and hair. He must be just as tired as you. Your excitement has dwindled to a low thrum and you’re ready to keel over.

“I want my coffee at six. Got it?” He demands.

“Yes, sir.”

“Call the front desk, have them send breakfast too. We’ll be heading off early.”

“Yes, sir,” you echo again, barely keeping up with his fast march.

“And wear a dress,” he says.

Again, you affirm his command.

He stops before a pair of double doors; wood carve in intricate patterns. He faces you and exhales, “do not fuck Hansen.”

You’re stunned by the suggestion. You raise your brows and let your mouth fall open. You sputter and shake your head, “s-sir--”

“Just don’t,” he warns. “Flirt with him but nothing more. Trust me.”

“I wouldn’t--”

“I’m not asking about your preferences, I’m giving you an order,” he turns to the door and reaches into his pocket, pulling out his card, “good night.”

“Oh, er, good night, sir,” you back off awkwardly, still scalding from his assumption.

You click down the hall in your shoes and frown. Does he really think you would do that? He said himself, you’re on a business trip. Sure, Lloyd was forward and unfocused but you didn’t encourage him at all. To be fair, you didn’t catch half of what he meant.

You get to your room and stop, feeling around your clothing as your heart drops. Oh no! You can see the cards in your mind, sitting on the table inside the hotel room. Oh, gosh, you’re so stupid.

You turn and face the hallway behind you. Of course you would lock yourself out. For everything that went so smoothly on your first trip abroad, something was bound to go wrong. Well, you’d rather this than be stranded in the middle of no where.

You push away from the door and stroll back down the hall. You find your way back to the lobby. It's eerily empty as you peer around. The high ceilings are centered by a grand chandelier and the panels between the skylight panes are painted with elaborate patterns. The night peers down at your lone entrance, making the echo of your steps even more desolate.

You go to the counter and raise your hand over the bell, wary of disturbing the peace. You tap it lightly but the ding is deafening. You wince and cry out as a body pops up from behind the counter like a jack-in-a-box.

“Eek,” you touch your chest as the manager appears like an apparition.

“Pardon me,” he puts his hands on the counter, “I was only just sorting through some things. Didn't mean to startle you.”

“No, it's…it's fine,” you giggle as your fear dissipates, “I didn't expect such a quick response.”

“Always at your service, miss,” he address you by your last name. You're flattered he remembers you. “And so I must ask how I can be of assistance.”

“Right, er, this is kinda embarrassing,” you scrunch up your lips and look at the wall, “I locked my keys in my room.”

“Ah, well, that's not the end of the world,” he waves away your worry.

You notice his jacket is disposed, folded over the unusued chair on it's tall legs, and his shirt sleeves are rolled to his elbows. He must be used to solitary nights.

“I'll come let you in.” He reaches to his belt to pull out a white card, “now this is your first wish, you've only two more after.”

You furrow your brow curiously and he gives an awkward grin, “a joke, of course. This genie does not count favours.”

“Uh, thanks,” you murmur.

He comes out from behind the desk and gestures you to come with him. You catch up as he strides breezily across the lobby. Your eyes wander the extravagant interior and you drift off in your imagination. What it must be like to work here every day.

“And are you enjoying your time abroad thus far?” Jonathan asks.

You snap back to the present and chuckle nervously, “sure, I... it’s nice so far but I haven’t been here very long.”

“Mm, yes, well I do hope you find time among your business to explore. If you have an questions, I’d be happy to answer. I even have a few recommendations if you’re interested,” he offers.

“Oh, thanks so much,” you swallow a yawn and flutter your lashes. He glances over at you as he strides on.

“And did you enjoy the restaurant?” He prompts.

“Uh yes, the food was delicious,” you chime.

“I will let the chef know you said so,” he remarks, “if you are interested in the local cuisine, there is a shop not far from here which is a touch more genuine. Though I must warn you it is spicy fare.”

“I love spice,” you smile blink long as another yawn nestles at the base of your throat.

“Well, you will let me know when you try it if you like it,” he nears your door and brings the car up to slide through the slot, “you must be terrible exhausted.”

He pushes the door open and holds it with his long arm, “just a little,” you agree, “thanks so much.”

“Never to worry, these things happen,” he assures, “the nights are lonely and I don’t mind the task.”

You smile as you step under his arm and turn in the doorway, “have a good night.”

“You too, darling,” he returns, “be sure to put your key somewhere you won’t forget.”

“Oh, yes, thank you,” you bounce on your feet and grab the door handle.

He lets go and you shut the door gently. You give a big yawn and face the room. Thankfully, you left the lamp on. You leave your shoes by the door and rub your eyes as you stagger forward. You take out your phone to check your alarms and set it a bit earlier. You won’t be getting much sleep.

🌍

You have Mr. Fowler’s coffee in hand as you stroll up to his door. You double-checked at the counter to make sure you didn’t misremember. You check your watch as you approach. Ten to six. You’re early. He’ll be impressed. He’s not very fond of lateness though you’re yet to test that yourself.

You’ve done pretty well. You got yourself up, with help from a freezing cold shower to keep your eyes open, and you look pretty good. A peachy orange blouse and a grey skort. You’re ready for the day in your mary jane flats, sparing your arches the strain of heels.

You knock and call through the door, “sir, I have your coffee.”

You look at the cup. You had it made exactly as he always get. An americano with an extra shot. You think the caffeine is a bit much but you would never say so to him. He’s your boss, not the other way around.

“Mr. Fowler?” You knock again as you stand in the hall, “it’s going to go cold--”

The door opens suddenly and your fist nearly hits Mr. Fowler instead of the door. You retract and give a sheepish grin, “uh, good morning, sir,” you gulp. He has a towel crookedly clutched around his waist and he’s dripping wet. His stomach is hard and lined with muscle, tightly knotted and glistening with moisture.

“It’s not six,” he snarls.

“Sorry, sir, I'm early. Your coffee,” you extend your arm to offer him the cup, “they are bringing your breakfast shortly--”

He grumbles and takes the cup. You let it go, hovering at the threshold as he keeps one hand on the towel. He inhales the scent of the espresso and tastes it with a moan of relief. He kicks the door shut and it snaps in your face. You step back and flinch.

He’s right. You’re early. You caught him off-guard. That much is obvious. You can’t blame him for his mood. No one likes being interrupted during a shower. You back up and stand against the wall. You’ll wait. You have no choice. You know if you disappear, he’ll be even less pleased.

Room service arrives shortly after and knock. Mr. Fowler lets them in, ignoring you as you linger, and the hotel porter leaves shortly after. You sway on your feet and check the time.

Someone else might be annoyed but you’re too excited. The shine of the new place has yet to wear off. Even if you are working, the backdrop is enough to assuage any pitfalls.

You check the time several times as you pace in the hall. You flatten yourself to the wall as another hotel denizen passes. You’re a bit awkward lurking there. You start to worry someone might see you and get suspicious. It is a bit strange to just be staring at a door.

Before your doubts can get the best of you, the doors open and Mr. Fowler emerges in a white button-up and navy slacks. He forgoes his jacket and tie for the natural climate. His short hair is tidy and a light stubble trims his jaw. He checks the time on his wrist and signals with his index.

“The car?” He demands.

“The car,” you echo and your eyes flit back and forth.

“The valet has the rental,” he snarls, “did you call for it?”

“Sorry, sir, I...” you take out your phone and scroll, “I don’t see anything in the itinerary--”

“Get the car,” he demands.

“Yes, sir,” you wince and hurry ahead, “will do.”

You scurry out of his sight and clamour into the lobby. You search around and see a new face behind the counter. Jonathan must be done his shift. You ask about the valet and they point you outside.

You ask for Mr. Fowler’s car and wait near the ramp of the garage. You should’ve known. You booked the rental car and all that. You’re going to blame it on jet lag.

Mr. Fowler appears at an easy pace, a hand in one pocket and the other around his phone. He doesn’t look up as he approaches. He stops a few feet away and sighs, once more peeking at his silver watch.

“On it’s way, sir,” you assure him.

He slips his phone into his pocket and squints at you. You give a shaky smile. You hate when he looks at you like that. It feels like he’s judging you. Well, he definitely is.

“I told you to wear a dress,” he says as he reaches to touch the collar of your blouse.

“Oh, sorry, sir,” you blanch. You must have forgot amid your late night chaos. You feel a surge of panic and quickly check your purse. You have your keys. “Do you want me to go change?”

“It’s fine,” he turns you by your shoulders and pinches your top button. He undoes it and you try to look down at his hands, only to go cross-eyed. He clucks and undoes the next one, leaving the satin to hang low on your chest. “That will do.”

You resist the urge to redo the button and you shrug, trying to hike fabric higher on your shoulders. You are overtly aware of your cleavage. It’s not very professional.

“Sir,” you bring your phone up again, “I think my data isn’t working. I can’t see the itinerary.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he turns as a sleek black car pulls up before you, “just get in.”

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