#that one shot sucks more than my daddy issues

[strawberrysturniolo]

someone older pt 2 // chris sturniolo

summary: after chris and his new photographer have a successful first shoot, they struggle with the idea of them being able to have a professional relationship. teasing, degrading, spanking, rough sex, age gap, daddy kink, secret relationship.

part one

The long awaited Fresh Love drop was a success. So much so that Chris called me, thanking me profusely for my addition to the project. He went on to say that he “hopes we can work together again,” but part of me knows there’s something more to it. 

The last time he was here, we made out and took a variety of photos during the act. 

He wound up getting a phone call from his manager, putting a hold in our activities. 

I’m not sure where that would have led us, had she not called and he had to leave. I don’t think it would have gone further. I don’t know if I would have allowed it.

It was fun in the moment, and I certainly don’t regret it. The only issue is that now with me staring at a new message from Chris about a future shoot, I have to make sure that we’re in agreement of this being simply work, not pleasure in any way.

Chris

Thanks again for the last session. I got amazing feedback from everyone. I wanted to send a message and ask you if you had time this week to do another shoot? That was kind of a test run of what pieces people might like, but now that we have more colors I need to get some more shots in them. Lmk when you’re free 

Me

Call me.

I set my phone down on my kitchen counter, trying to let the memories of him sucking my jaw flee my brain. He paid really well, but he was really great to work with, so if kissing him a little while I have fun working with him helps… then what’s the harm?

No, there’s so much harm in this. 

My phone rings almost immediately after the message is sent. I hesitate answering, but realize how bad it would look if I didn’t pick up the phone after I just sent a message asking for him to call.

“Hey,” I greet him casually.

“Hey. I assume this is to follow up my message?” he asks. 

I find myself pacing around my kitchen, trying to find the right words. “Yeah, but Chris–”

“But?” he cuts in. “There’s but’s now?”

I pause. “What’s wrong with there being a but?”

“This isn’t a work type but,” he goes on. “This is a ‘there’s an issue between you and me’ type but.”

I don’t respond. 

“Is there?” he asks, noticing my silence. 

“No. Maybe? I don’t know Chris. What I do know is that I did enjoy working with you and I’m glad the drop was what you hoped for–”

“More than what I hoped for,” he interrupts me again. “That happened because of you.”

“Maybe that’s true but if you want to keep working with me then what happened last time can’t happen again,” I say confidently, really trying to convince myself of the same. 

I can picture him searching for the words to say. He settles on, “Why?”

I wish I had a better answer. “Part of it just feels wrong.”

“What about it feels wrong? I kissed you. You kissed me back. We did that together. We talked about it afterwards. We said it was good and we were glad it happened.”

“I know,” I nod to myself. I got myself in too deep. “I’m five years older than you, and this is a workplace relationship. This shouldn’t have happened. It’s highly unprofessional and it makes me look bad as an artist.”

“This relationship is also two sided,” he refutes again. “Why do you get to make the calls and decide what’s right and wrong if I was involved in it too?”

Okay… This guy might be more mature than I was led to believe. 

“I mean,” he continues. “I could get in trouble too, you know? If my manager found out I was kissing all over my new photographer, I’d be toast. She’d insist on me finding someone else no matter how successful our shoots are. So if you don’t want to shoot with me anymore then fine, but if it’s because you can’t handle a little tension here and there then there’s something deeper that you need to resolve on your own.”

Part of that cuts deep until I’m suddenly stitched back up and determined to prove a point to him. Maybe this Chris Sturniolo is a fling kind of guy. Maybe he has the power over his own feelings to be able to disguise when he’s into someone, but I’m not able to do the same. It’s written on my face, and the last thing I need is for this guy five years younger than me to win this argument. 

So game on. 

“Come over tonight. Bring your gear and I’ll start setting up now.”

His voice is laced with a cocky tone. I can picture the smirk on his face. “I thought you’d say that.”

The rest of the day passes as I set up my studio with backdrops I spray painted a few days ago. This time, decorated with dark blue splatter designs and graffiti. In a daze and my mind wrapped around all things Chris, I graffitied the words ‘Fresh Love,’ which he went on to compliment upon arrival.

“I’m glad you came around,” he added. “They liked the shots of us together, and I didn’t want to have to search for another model for it if you were right here.”

I nod, trying to have my best poker face as if my eyes aren’t following his every move. “Stand on the X.”

He goes to his place with a smile, knowing my routine now. “Ah, test shots, huh? You do these every time?”

“Wouldn’t miss them,” I respond shortly.

He must have noticed that I’m trying to keep this as business as possible, seeing how he started making every fucking face he could to somehow turn me on. The most seductive smirks, hands in his hair, pulling his shirt a certain way so some of his skin would show more on his stomach.

I hate him.

I need more. 

“The lighting is good,” I say as I stand up straight, setting the camera to its flush settings. “Do what feels natural, just like last time.”

He smiles. “If I wanted things to be like last time then you’d be in front of the camera with me.”

I suck in a deep breath. “If you behave then maybe I’ll join you.”

That shuts him up as he starts posing for me. Eventually he asks, “Can I take this sweatshirt off now? Or are we still looking for a good shot?”

I shake my head. “I think we got it. We can do some without now.”

He peels his sweatshirt off, letting it stay stuck to his shirt he wears below it, allowing it to peel up in unison and reveal his stomach and chest. The minimal but dark hairs that decorate his lower stomach give me far too much to imagine as I stare at him. I want to see more of him, and I want those clothes gone. I’m aching for him, and he’s using it to his advantage.

“You taking pictures of my clothes or my body, baby?”

I snap out of it, brought back to him at the sound of the pet name. 

The name ‘baby’ leaving his lips almost has me buckling at the knees. 

He pulls his bottom lip between his lips, then glances between me and his own shirt. He peels his shirt off, standing bare from the waist up in front of me, dressed now in only his gray sweatpants representing his brand. Even those hang lower and give me too much to think about. 

“Put this on and stand in front of the camera,” he instructs, tossing me the shirt as he switches positions with me. “Don’t worry… I’ll turn around while you change.”

For some stupid reason I find myself listening to him. I swap my shirt for his brand, standing on the center point of the camera and allowing him to get comfortable behind it. 

He looks through the viewfinder at me, studying the shot before he snaps the moment. “Beautiful,” he mumbles, standing up straight again and smiling. He cocks his head to the side. “Now lose the pants.” 

“Chris…” I start to say, but he has more.

“It’s just me and you,” he assures me. “Plus, this is your camera. I have no access to this. If you really don’t want to then fine, but I promise, no one will see these besides me.”

His eyes stare into mine with a determination that says, ‘You know you want it.’

And I fucking do.

Maintaining eye contact, I unbutton my jeans and pull them off my legs slowly, tossing them to the side and standing in front of him in his own shirt and a pair of dark red panties, a thong that hugs my hips in the right way and makes my ass look like his new favorite thing. 

He licks his lips, swallowing as he steps back in front of the camera, trying to bite his tongue to keep from making a certain sound or saying something foul.

I want to know what’s going on in that head of his, but I refuse to ask and act interested even if I am. 

I start to take control, letting myself feel more comfortable standing in front of him half naked. I start lifting the shirt little by little as he takes more photos, the click satisfying me even more when my back is to him, my ass on full display.

“Fuck,” he sighs. “That’s it.”

My stomach is turning in the best way at every compliment, every look, every sound that leaves his mouth. He isn’t doing his best at hiding his physical reaction either, seeing that his dick is now pressed to the sweatpants around his waist. 

“You okay back there?” I tease, now smiling.

“Shut up,” he warns.

I let my body relax. “Business professional, remember?” 

He scoffs. “Yeah, fuck that.”

I give him a glaring look. “Chris.”

“Don’t say my name.” My stomach almost falls until he continues. “Not when you look like that and I’m trying to keep it in my pants. Do not say my name.”

My smile grows as I step closer. “So you don’t want me, Chris?”

His eyes fall shut.

“You’re saying you don’t need me, Chris?”

He takes a deep breath, lets it out, and grits out, “Fuck. This.”

He pulls me aside from the camera, his lips finding mine as I take my hands to his hair, finishing where we left off. A soft moan leaves my lips as his dick presses against my thigh. 

“Yeah,” he nods. “You did want me.”

I nod desperately back at him. “Really bad.”

“Mmmm,” he hums, kissing my neck. “You can have me right now, you know?” 

I have a mental battle with myself while I’m in his arms, and then without thinking clearly I’m pulling him to my bedroom despite the voice in my head shouting for me to leave this alone. 

I need relief, and he is exactly the painkiller I want. 

He follows me blindly, refusing to detach his hands from my skin. I can’t get enough of him. He’s grabbing my ass, feeling my everywhere, teasing his leg in between mine. His thigh presses against my core, earning a gasp from me as I sit on the edge of the bed.

“Poor baby,” he pouts, pushing me back onto the mattress. 

I lift my arms for him, giving him access to the underside of my shirt, lifting it off with ease. My hands find the desperation he is trying to satisfy, a pleased groan leaving his throat at my touch. 

“Looks like someone was struggling too, huh?” I notice. My hand makes soft movements over his length, stopping when his hand juts out and grabs it. 

He lowers his gaze to meet mine, our faces now level as I sit on the bed and he kneels in front of it. 

“I’ve fantasized about you touching me and sucking me off, but I haven’t gotten a clear idea of what you look like with your ass up, or what your pussy feels like around me. So you wanna show me what it’s like?” 

I’m ready to do anything he wants no matter how eager it makes me look. 

Yet I can’t find the words that convey this. 

I nod again. His hand grips my jaw as he pushes his mouth back to mine, shoving my body back onto the mattress in the process. He pins me down, grinding his hips into mine and teasing me with his cock before huffing out a breath and flipping me over. He lifts me by my hips, keeping my ass in the air for him. 

“You gonna be able to take me with no foreplay? Nothing but my dick fucking you senseless, baby?” he whispers, pushing my shirt up – his shirt – and kissing down my back in between words. 

“Yes, Chris,” I give in.

He tsks. “Don’t say my name. You know what you want to say. It’s on the tip of your tongue.”

Is he serious?

Because if he is… fuck this business relationship. I’ll need him in my bed every night. 

I must have taken too long to respond. His palm smacks against my ass, demanding a response. 

I wince. “Yes, daddy.”

“Good girl,” he says softly as he rubs his fingers where I was just spanked, soothing the pain. 

He kisses over the spot as he pulls my thong to the side. He then dips his head between my legs from behind, licking a harsh stripe on my folds. He hums in pleasure. 

“Fuck, you taste so good.” His finger rubs over that same spot. “Gonna have to taste you after I fill you up and see how good we taste together.”

Without realizing, I back my ass up to him, so much so that he smacks my ass again. 

“Needy girls get nothing,” he warns, and I find myself apologizing profusely. 

There is no way this kid five years younger than me is having this much control. There’s no way I put myself in this position. 

The tip of his dick teases at my slit, swiping it a few times before pushing in and pulling right back out. “So tight.” He does the same motion a few more times before shoving in completely, moaning loudly as he lays his chest on my back, tucking his head in my neck. His lips suck on the spot that has me gripping my sheets as he fills me up. His hips start thrusting into me, his hips railing into my ass as he fucks me mercilessly. The sound is the hottest thing I’ve ever heard. Me dripping wet while he fucks himself deeper. His skin slapping against mine while my bed shakes, trying to hold us.

“Taking it so good baby,” he mumbles in my ear. He slaps my ass again, keeping his mouth close to my ear so he can talk me through it. “You like it rough, huh? Don’t you, you fucking slut?”

I whine at the name. “Uh huh.”

His fingers dig into my sides as he drills himself as deep as he can. 

“FUCK– Yes, daddy,” I correct myself. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re so bad, baby,” he shakes his head in my neck. “Bratty as hell.”

I lower myself to my elbows, now unable to keep myself propped up the way he wanted me originally. He brings himself back up to his knees, fucking me at this new position. He speeds up, smacking my ass every so often, enough to where I can feel heat radiating off of it from the friction of his hand on my skin. 

He continues to mock and degrade me, talking me through everything before his hips start thrusting erratically.

My hand reaches behind me, clinging to his wrist as I look at him over my shoulder. The nerves building inside of me are struggling to hold on. I feel like I’m going to break. “Daddy, I’m-”

His eyes go wide as my mouth drops. Watching my face as I cum, Chris’ hips still, his dick deep inside of me as my pussy grips him. His lips part, eliciting a loud whine. I cum around him, and it’s only a moment later that I can feel him filling me up.

I lower my face to a pillow, trying to regain my breath and any strength left in me. Chris pulls out after a few seconds, fulfilling his promise and cleaning up our mess between my legs. I let out a few weak moans, too wiped to make much noise. 

He lays next to me, sweat on his forehead causing a few hairs by his ears to stick out straight, losing the natural curl in them and replacing them with a spiky style. 

“So,” he says, his breath lost. “Business professional from now on?” 

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#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #sturniolo #sturniolo smut

[kiwisbell]

Whiskey Sour

chapter four: between the sheets

Reuniting with your estranged father while you finish college in Austin has unintended consequences. His best friend, for one.

series masterlist

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

rating: 18+ (mdni)

series tags and warnings: dbf!joel being extremely criminally attractive, big ol' age gap (40s/early 20s), unprotected piv (do not follow the leader), creampie, multiple sex positions, multiple orgasms, oral sex (m and f receiving), dry humping, spitting, biting, joel miller is a MUNCH, very appropriate use of a showerhead, consensual somnophilia, yoga, heavy emphasis on payphones, daddy issues, family reunions, angst, dead mom, grief and mourning, father/daughter relationship, bartending, reader is a woman in STEM (author is not), being a student in university deserves a warning probably, attempted drugging (roofies), college boys suck, possessive sex, possessive joel, protective joel, obligatory warning for joel's salt-and-pepper hair, masturbation, wet dreams, no outbreak AU, hurt/comfort, healing, no sarah or ellie, stargazing, face-sitting, pining/yearning, happy ending

word count: ~ 7.7k

a/n: let the fucking commence!

chapter 4: between the sheets

Joel's birthday.

Your car is still in the shop by Monday—Joel’s birthday—so you’ll be sleeping at your dad’s place. 

And so will Joel. 

“Is this what you guys usually do for birthdays?” you ask, looking up from your studying toward your dad, who's stocking the cooler with beer. “Drink, eat, and watch TV until you rot or pass out?”

“Any better ideas?” 

You roll your eyes. “Guess not.”

He opens the fridge. “Are you sure I can’t have a piece of—”

“Do. Not. Eat that cake,” you warn without looking up from your textbook. 

“Jesus. Bossy.”

“That’s Joel’s cake, Dad.” You look at him over the couch and grin. “Once he gets the first piece, you can pig out.”

“I didn't say pig out,” he mumbles. 

There's a knock at the door. “I’ll get it,” you offer, jumping upright and knocking your textbook off your lap. 

“Did you have an extra shot of espresso in your coffee this morning?” calls your father from the kitchen, but you're already in the foyer, opening the door for Joel. 

He’s wearing a pair of jeans and a grey T-shirt, as usual, but wears them so nicely it's almost as exciting as a new outfit altogether. You opted for one of your sundresses, white and printed with daisies. “Hi,” you say, sounding more out-of-breath than you feel. “Happy birthday, Joel.”

Fuck, this dress. Is he supposed to sit right next to you all night without reaching his hands under that flowy little skirt? It’s his goddamn birthday—he should be able to do whatever he wants to with whatever you offer him. But Mike’s here, in between the two of you, forever. So, all he can do is kiss the top of your head and whisper, “Thank you, baby.”

You beam up at him, and he’s not going to last the night when you look like this, dress like this. “You’ll love the cake,” you tell him, ushering him into the kitchen. 

“Happy birthday, you old asshole.” Mike pulls him into a hug and slaps him on the back. 

Joel chuckles. “Real nice, man.” 

“Don't mind my kid.” He jerks his head in your direction, where you've settled yourself on the couch again, surrounded and engulfed by textbooks and notebooks. “She doesn't know how to relax.”

“I know how to relax,” you say, nose still buried in your work. Joel knows you do. He helped you relax just a few nights ago. “Unless you two want to write this test for me, I’ll be multitasking tonight.”

Joel and Mike crack open a bottle each of Sam Adams and clink them together. “To gettin’ old,” says Mike. 

I’m the one who sat your daughter on my lap and made her come all over me. Can a young, stupid kid do that? Joel just grins, feeling a little bit of primordial pride. “To friends who should learn to shut the fuck up.” 

They drink at the same time, and you hold up a glass of water from your spot on the couch in cheers. “To being around long enough to remember when the Colosseum was built.”

Oh, you think you’re real fuckin’ funny. He’s got half a mind to drag you upstairs and stuff your mouth with his cock just to make you remember how good he makes you feel. Maybe it’ll fix that attitude; maybe it’ll just quiet you down for a bit. Joel shares a look with Mike, who’s trying not to laugh. “She said it.”

Mike sits in the chair next to the television before Joel can subtly usher him into the seat next to yours. He sets his jaw, lowering himself next to you, the corner of a textbook briefly jabbing him in the ass. If he looks long enough, he will see that your skirt has slipped up your thighs and the barest sliver of your ass is visible from where he sits. He would not know, of course, because he isn't looking. 

“Can we do gifts now?” you ask, biting your lip to hide your excitement. Joel’s heart squeezes at the thought of getting a present from you. 

Arms around his neck. Layers of clothing between you. Your body rubbing up against him, taking what you want. Sweet moans that hang from the ceiling of his brain. Stalactites. 

What more could you give him? 

“I don't see why not,” says Mike. “But since best goes last, you should give your present first.”

You roll your eyes and set all your things on the table, leaning over the armrest to produce a giant gift bag brimming with blue tissue paper. Joel, of course, does not look at the shape of your ass in his face. “Blue’s your favourite colour,” you tell him. 

It is. He doesn't even remember telling you. Joel takes out the tissue paper and pulls out the first item. It's a cowboy hat, tied with ribbon to a green plaid-patterned flannel. 

He looks at your pretty, smiling face. “In case you want to go back to your roots,” you supply. “I could see how much you missed the farm you grew up on, and I think you'd look great in a cowboy hat.”

Joel’s throat is tightening. “Thank you,” he says hoarsely. 

The next item makes him frown. It's bright pink and slightly squishy and—

“A yoga mat,” he says. Mike snorts, hiding it behind his beer bottle. 

“It matches mine!” He recalls the mat in your bedroom the day he helped you unpack your things. The tight black pants moulded to your ass. Do you want him to do yoga with you? “I know you've got a bad back, and it really helps reduce pain. Plus, flexibility is always important.”

Joel wants to bend you over that goddamn armrest and leave bruises on your ass in the shape of his fingerprints. You're awfully fucking bold, making him picture you folded in half and sweating, right in front of your father. But it's thoughtful. It really is. You want to help take away his pain, as if you don’t do that with every second you're in the same room as him. “Might have to teach me,” he says. 

“I’m a fantastic teacher, luckily for you.” You clap your hands together and tuck them under your chin, and he's falling, listing, into a place he cannot crawl out of. “Open the last one.”

It’s in an envelope—whatever it is. Joel gently tugs out the piece of paper inside and reads it. The lump in his throat has migrated to his eyes, prickling the nerves behind his nose. “You named a star after me?”

“Shit,” says Mike. “I should've gone first.”

“It’s official and everything,” you tell him. “NASA has this program. I thought it might be cool to look up and know one of them belongs to you.”

He’s getting fucking soft with age. Joel clears his throat, his fingers trembling a little as he puts everything safely back in the bag and meets your gaze. He wishes Mike weren't here. He wishes he could pull you up against him and show you exactly how fast his heart is racing. You know him. You're so kind, so thoughtful, so bright. He doesn't deserve to have these things, but Jesus, he needs you so badly it aches. He doesn't just want you. He likes you. He’s excited by you and he’s nervous around you. 

How can he simply move beyond a feeling like this? He doesn't think it’s possible for a person to walk past you on the street and simply forget. You demand attention. You deserve it. 

“Thank you,” he says, because there's nothing else to say. He's a man of action. He will show you his gratitude. But it will have to wait, and so will he. 

Your eyes twinkle, and somehow he knows that you're thinking the same thing. “Happy birthday, Joel.”

Mike's gift to him is a new toolkit, since his current one is approximately as old as you, and a new nine iron, “since your back will be on the mend soon and you can hit the course with me again.”

You wrinkle your nose. “You’re such a guy, Dad.”

“Yeah?” He pulls you into him, attacking your head and your cheeks with a flurry of kisses as you squeal with laughter. “That'll show you, smartass.”

Joel cannot ruin this. But he finds he doesn't have many reservations about ruining you for every other man you'll ever meet. He’s going to be selfish with you tonight. It’s his birthday, after all. 

The doorbell chimes its broken melody, and you open the door to find an unfamiliar man staring down at you with a crooked smile on his face. He has shoulder-length dark hair and brown eyes, and he's wearing a denim jacket, holding up a six-pack of the same beer Joel and your father are drinking. 

“Well, hello,” he says. He's certainly Texan. 

“Hi,” you return politely, though it sounds a bit like a question. “I’m sorry, I don't think we’ve…”

“Sorry, darlin’. Tommy Miller.” He’s quick to shake your hand, and your brows shoot up. Now you know why you recognise that smile of his. 

You can't help but grin up at him. Good looks must run in the family. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Tommy.”

“You must be Mike’s girl.” He clicks his tongue, giving you a quick once-over. His eyes glimmer with something you can almost call mischief. “I like your dress.”

You lift your brows. “I like your double denim. Very with the times.”

“Tommy, stop harassing her,” says your father from behind you. “Good to see you, man.”

He and Tommy slap their palms together in a purely male handshake while you take the beer from him and hurry back to the kitchen. “Your brother’s here,” you tell Joel in a hushed voice. “Didn't tell me he was so handsome.”

He cocks his head to the side, leaning his hip on the counter. “Yeah? He tell you he liked your dress?” 

“He did.”

“That's his favourite.” Joel steps closer to you and you have to tilt your chin up to see him better. “He once said that to a girl who was wearin’ pants.”

You let the laugh slip out before you can stop it. “He brought you beer.” You lift the case onto the counter. “He must be good for something.”

“Yeah.” A hand slips indecently between your thighs and two fingers snap the waistband of your panties (white and lacy, because you need to have a little fun). “Toyin’ around with what ain’t his,” he says gruffly. 

You gasp, practically jumping back from him when your dad and Tommy enter the kitchen. If you look flushed or nervous, neither of them say a word. Joel hugs his brother. “Good of you to finally show up.”

“Jackass.” Tommy claps him hard on the back a couple times. “If I’d known such a pretty lady was here, I’d have dressed better.”

Your cheeks feel warm at his unabashed flirting. He’s not a lot younger than Joel, but he's certainly got the brashness of someone who is. Joel pulls him into a headlock while your father ruffles Tommy’s perfect hair. “If you flirt with my daughter, Miller, you’ll have to match your nice outfits to your bruises.”

Tommy laughs, wriggling out of the headlock and giving you a wink as he smooths his hair down. “I think I look good in black.”

Tommy’s always had a bark five times the size of his bite, but Joel isn't fond of the teasing. Sure, he knows it's only teasing, getting a rise out of his brother, but he doesn't like the way you blush for him. “All right, I’m calling in the food.” Mike picks up the receiver and points at Tommy. “Don’t think I don’t mean it, dickhead.”

Tommy lifts his hands in surrender and Joel shoves him in the side with an elbow for good measure. You sit back down with your pile of books, and the younger Miller lowers himself next to you, breaking your concentration with all his questioning and schmoozing. 

Joel grits his teeth. If he can't get a fucking second alone with you tonight, he’ll burn up from the inside. He takes a swig of his beer to cool down as you politely entertain Tommy’s conversation. He’s sleeping in the guest room tonight because you offered to take the couch. It’s his birthday, you told Mike, and his back will thank him. 

The rest of the party is pleasant. The guys eat wings while you pluck away at a caesar salad, refusing to get your hands dirty if you're touching your books all night. Tommy leaves around ten, and Joel and Mike are both somewhat drunk by the time midnight rolls around. 

It’s two o’clock in the morning, no longer his birthday, when he sneaks downstairs. He feels mostly sober now, chugging back a glass of water at the sink. Mike’s been asleep for an hour or so, but you haven't. In fact, you're still working, sitting upright on the couch with the lamp on as you study. Joel’s stomach sinks. The salad from hours earlier is not even half-eaten. You’re yawning every minute, rubbing at your eyes as you attempt to finish your problem set. 

You hear a noise from the kitchen and look up to find Joel standing, watching, at the counter. “Hi,” you say in a groggy voice. 

“Oh, baby,” he says, meeting you at the couch and sitting next to you. His hand finds your thigh, at last, squeezing and kneading your flesh like he's wanted to do all night. It feels like victory: restraint paying off. It feels like his erratic heartbeat can finally settle. “You gotta sleep. This ain't healthy.”

“Chemistry doesn't sleep,” you say with a pout. He wants to nibble that pout right off your lips. Your eyes are lidded and reddish. “Looks like you don’t, either.”

Joel plucks the notebook out of your hands and sets it on the table. “Enough,” he says softly, his hand winding around your waist and resting on your lower back. He relishes the way your body melts, your shoulders sinking and your spine decompressing under his warm palm. “C’mere, baby.”

You go easily onto his lap, your dress bunching around your hips. His mere closeness raises goosebumps on your arms, your legs, his large hand caressing your right thigh. He was right; you're so fucking soft. 

Your eyes blink sleepily at him, your fingers threading through his brown-silver locks. “I like your hair,” you whisper. “I like your eyes and your smile and your moustache.”

Joel’s hand finds the crease between your thigh and your hip. He rubs circles into your hip bone. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Your thumb traces his mouth, your touch so reverent even in your half-asleep haze, and he will never have enough of you. “Would feel so good… between my legs.”

His cock is stirring in his pants again, warmed by your telltale heat. “You know how hard it was not to touch you today?” He keeps his voice quiet, knowing Mike’s snoring away upstairs, knowing you're both playing with fire. “This fuckin’ dress. You wanted to tease me?”

“I wanted…” You gasp when he buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling the sweet scent of your perfume. It swirls around his head and turns it fuzzy. You’re an aphrodisiac. “I wanted you to touch me. Just like this.”

He huffs into your throat, his strong nose guiding the path of his mouth. He cares little for caution when you smell the way you do— taste the way you do. His tongue darts out to place open-mouthed kisses up the veins in your throat, your pulse fluttering under his attention. You are the heady pull of closing eyes at dusk and the sweetness of dessert. 

Your hips grind against his cock the more he kisses his way up your neck, your wet pussy soaking through your little white panties. You feel so much closer to him than the last time, his need thick and insistent against you. He reaches the spot below your ear, sucking at a spot that makes you clutch the back of his head and press him to you, your cunt slick with your arousal. He grunts into your skin, licking and nibbling your earlobe, marking your body as he sinks further into the senseless plane of desire and he forgets that he isn't supposed to be doing this. 

“Joel,” you whisper, urging him back to look into his pitch-black eyes. “I want you to kiss me.”

No sane man can look into those sleep-soaked eyes and say no to you. He tips his chin up and presses his lips to yours. It's soft, gentle, and it feels like Rapture. 

He cradles the back of your head and gently pries open your mouth for him to lick into, sliding his tongue along yours as your breathing shifts and little gasps pour like honey from your throat. This is what he needs. This is the line that will reel his soul back up from hell. 

Your lips are soft and your skin burns for him. His hands become needier, bunching your dress higher up your hips so he can guide his fingers higher up your thighs, squeezing your ass and shifting to the juncture of your thighs. The white lace. He keeps your mouth against him as he toys with the waistband, feeling it give and slide under his touch. 

Your sighs send blood surging down to his cock until there's nothing left in his brain. All he knows is finding a way to get more: drawing more of those noises from you, coaxing more pleasure out of your body, giving you so much of him that you’ll never want anyone else. 

Joel groans softly into your mouth and breaks away to put his mouth to your jaw, your chin, taking a fistful of your hair and pulling your head back so he can have better access to your throat. 

“Oh, my—” Your eyes flutter shut when he licks a stripe up your throat, his beard scratching your skin deliciously, every mild touch electrifying your body. 

He reaches your sternum, right above the neckline of this godforsaken dress, roughly tugging down the straps off your shoulders so he can finally— finally —see your pretty tits for himself. It isn't a dream this time. The dress pools around your waist, sitting on his lap in your father’s home, rocking your hips against his stiff cock and looking so fucking tired, so fucking beautiful, that he wants to sink right into you and become one. It’s the only way to cure this itch. 

He can never be close enough. 

“Joel.” Your fingers are still in his hair as he kisses all the way down your chest, a rough hand grasping your ribs and rubbing a thumb over your hard nipple. He’s taking his time exploring you, his hand secure around the base of your neck, the other adventuring across the planes and curves of you, indulging because he finally can. You let him, because it’s not his birthday anymore, but he’s been so patient. He's waited so long. 

And fuck, it feels good. Every tweak of your nipples, every playful nibble and suck sends jolts of pleasure to your cunt, the only spot of you he hasn't yet admired. Joel’s mouth finds one of your nipples, swirling his tongue around it before he sucks it into his mouth. “Fuck.” It's more of a squeak this time, less of a whisper, and he squeezes your ribcage as if to stop your lungs from expanding, as if to say, Quiet. 

“That feels good,” you gasp, your head falling back, the back of your neck still warmed by the press of his palm. “Dreamed about this.”

You're waking up, though still a bit groggy, with everything he gives you. He kisses his way back to the hollow of your throat and looks up at you with those deep brown eyes, glimmering silver in the moonlight. “So have I,” he says. 

“You don't sleep.”

“No,” he agrees. The hand at your neck slides down to your lower back, to your ass, where he presses you down onto him. The graze of his zipper against your clit makes stars burst behind your eyes. Joel cocks his head. “Why do you think I can’t sleep lately, hmm? It’s because you wake me up. You and your body.” Another roll of your hips makes you drop your forehead to his. He tucks your hair behind your ear. “Can’t fuckin’ sleep when you're all I'm thinkin’ about, now, can I?”

You bite your lip, but this time, he can do something about it. He nudges his nose against your cheek and fits his mouth to yours. He dreams about you. He thinks of you. He wants you. 

“I don’t sleep much, either,” you tell him when he lets you up for air. 

“I know,” he says softly. You hold onto his wrist when he cups your face. “Such a thinker. You gotta let yourself go, baby. Let yourself feel.” 

“I…” His cock is so hard. It’s a strong, thick pressure against your thigh, catching on your clit with each drag of your hips. You won't come like this again; you need him to feel good. “I want you in my mouth.”

You can feel him twitch against you, his pulse hammering against your mouth as you suck on his pressure point. “Jesus.” His hands fly to your hips. “Baby, I… Goddamn, we can’t… can’t risk it.”

He's right, of course. It doesn't stop you from grinding down against him and nibbling his lobe. “But it's your birthday.”

“Not—fuck, not anymore.”

“I want you to feel good,” you whisper, your breath hot against his cheek. 

“Jesus Christ.” He pulls you away, looking you hard in the eyes. “When I fuck you, baby, I want to hear you. I want to make you scream. I can’t do that here.” His mouth seeks yours, slow and sweet. “Lie down.”

Your eyes close on instinct when he kisses you, but your confusion lingers. “What…” 

“Lie down, and go to sleep.” He kisses your forehead, and it feels like finality. “Tomorrow night, when you get off work, I’m comin’ to pick you up.”

You shift reluctantly off his lap, resting your head on the arm of the couch and spreading your legs slightly so he can get a look at the wet patch on your panties. Your tired eyes are doe-like in the darkness. “And?” you ask, trailing your foot up his thigh. 

“And…” His fingers hook in the waistband of your panties, shucking them down your legs and leaving you bare underneath. You watch him with black eyes and a heaving chest as he stuffs your panties in his pocket. “I want you to wear that black thong you've got. You know the one I’m talkin’ about?”

You swallow. He’s seen your underwear collection? “Yes,” you say breathlessly. 

“I never thanked you,” he whispers, bringing his fingers to your soaking wet cunt and spreading your folds open, “properly. That was one hell of a birthday gift, baby.”

You can’t help but smile. “I want you to be happy.” 

Two fingers slide languidly through your wetness, making you twitch. “I’m real happy,” he says, “when you're with me.”

He brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean. 

“Joel,” you whine, spreading your thighs wider, inviting him to touch you even though you know he can't. You know it's wrong. 

“Tomorrow night.” He's tired of denying himself of you. He's tired of letting you go on thinking there isn't a soul in this world who's willing to fight for your affection. “Go to sleep.”

For good measure, he closes the textbook on the table and stands up, leaving you wet, wanting, and dreaming of the promise of tomorrow. 

~

You’re quivering with anticipation when you hop up into the passenger’s seat in your little skirt and little black thong. 

“Show me,” is how he greets you, his eyes sliding lazily toward you and taking in your whole body. His jaw ticks as you slip the hem of your skirt up above your hips and show him the scrap of lace tucked between your cheeks. Apparently satisfied, he pulls out of the parking lot and drives you to his home. 

Inside, too impatient to bother flicking on the lights, he pushes you up against the front door and kisses you hard. His hands slide up your back as you wind your arms around his neck, your lips parting to welcome his tongue and feed your contented sighs into his mouth. Fuck, you're tense, your shoulders tight and your leg muscles strained from being on your feet all night. When his hands begin to wander, you have a feeling he knows exactly where you're hurting. 

You whisper his name, passing it from your throat to his mouth, and you realise it's the first word either of you have spoken since you got in his truck tonight. He growls your name, not once letting you up for air as his hands feel up your arms, your spine, your ribs, the flare of your hips. He touches your body like it's marble, and kisses you like you're water: he could chip you away, and you could slip right through his fingers, but you're here, and he cups you so gently in his palm that the marble will not crack. The water will not drip. 

All of the windows and doors are closed. All of the curtains are drawn, the lights off. But he wants you in his bedroom. He wants you where he knows the world will wait patiently outside a closed door and he’ll never have to worry about another soul seeing you the way he wants to see you tonight. He turns you around, backing you toward his room as you stumble to keep pace. All the while, his hands never leave your body, and his mouth never offers reprieve. His moustache and his beard scratch you, merciless, unrelenting. 

Kicking the door shut behind him, Joel kisses you until your lips are swollen and your pupils are so wide they engulf your irises. He cradles your head in his hand, and you place your palm to his heart. 

“You're wearing it,” you say with a grin. “The shirt I bought you.”

“Sorry I couldn't wear the hat.” Joel kisses his way from your cheek to your earlobe, nibbling slightly before he changes his trajectory downward. 

“That's okay,” you sigh, holding him to you as he playfully bites your collarbone. “I want you naked, anyway.”

He chuckles into your neck. “You first.”

His hand finds your ass, squeezing roughly over your little skirt. “Teasin’ me,” he grunts, grabbing at the fabric, so blind with need that he can't think straight long enough to find the waistband. Instead, he’s pulling the skirt up and over your ass just to grab handfuls of your soft flesh. “Jesus, you're beautiful.”

“What did you do with them?” Your soft voice breaks in half when he snaps the band of your thong against your hip. “The panties you took.”

“You wanna know?” Joel finally yanks down your skirt, leaving you in your shirt and that pathetic black fabric barely covering your pussy. “I took out my cock and I jerked off into them. Came on your pretty white lace, thinkin’ about the way you looked last night.”

Your breathing stutters, your grip tightening around the collar of his flannel shirt. “Fuck. Take this off, please.”

So polite. So sweet. Joel clicks his tongue, backing you toward the bed. “Arms up,” he orders. 

You obey so easily, letting him drag your shirt over your head. Joel unclasps your bra and tosses it aside, squeezing your tits in his rough hands and splaying his fingers over your ribcage. “I think about you,” he says lowly, “when I’m sleepin’. When I’m awake. When I’m supposed to be workin’. You have any idea how much company time you've lost me?”

You giggle, crowding him so you can press your lips to his throat. “You're your own boss. No such thing as company time.”

“Such a smart fuckin’ mouth.” He hooks his thumb in the band of your thong, his other hand grasping your chin. “You gonna be good and listen to me? Let me help you feel good?”

There's a change in your eyes. Pouring cold metal into a cast and watching it melt. Reshaping it into something soft, malleable, warm.  “Yes, Joel.”

Fuck, if that doesn't send all of his blood soaring to his cock. Joel smiles down at you. “Take ‘em off, baby.”

You back away to give yourself enough room, looking right into his eyes as you make a show of sliding your thong down your legs, stepping out of it and lowering yourself onto the bed. He takes his eyes on a path over your stiff nipples, your pretty, glistening cunt on display for him. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, and it makes you push your chest forward with a bit of pride knowing he likes you like this. 

“My beautiful girl.” He steps close to you, nudging your legs open so he can stand between them. You're naked for him. You're on his bed, wet and wanting for him. There is no compromise when it comes to you: he cannot let another man see you like this. A selfish man guards his treasures. A selfish man does not want, because he does not give away what he has. 

You sit primly on the edge, peering up at him with a pleading look in your eye. “Let me undress you.” You pop open a button on his shirt. “Please, Joel.”

He likes the sound of your begging, so he nods, allowing you to indulge, your fingers slipping the shirt off his broad shoulders. “So handsome,” you muse, dispensing with the flannel and putting your lips to his chest, his soft stomach, the freckles on his body that you've never been so lucky to see until now. He’s beautiful. He is the sum of years you've never seen, the experience of a man who's made his way in the world with his strong, capable body. He is the only man you ever want to know so intimately. 

“Touch yourself,” he commands, backing away to take in the sight of your naked body. “Let me see you.”

And fuck, you want to make him so happy. You want to make him proud, make him feel good. Your hand slides leisurely down your body as you maintain eye contact, tracing the path from your sternum to your navel. His eyes look black in the darkness. You ease your thighs open, giving him a good view when you finally dip two fingers between your folds and bring them to your mouth, licking up your wetness. Slicked up with saliva, your fingers circle easily over your clit, your eyes fluttering and your head falling against the pillows. 

“That feels good,” you tell him, pinching your nipple. “Fuck, Joel, I need you. I need you.”

“You’ll get me, sweetheart. Just keep goin’.” He likes watching, it seems, making you go a little crazy, making you teeter precariously on an edge you'll never tip over. You push two fingers inside your pussy, rubbing your palm against your clit. Your moan turns high-pitched, your core burning with need you cannot satiate. Not when he's so close, looking at you, forcing you to touch yourself when all you know is the fire only he can stoke. 

But that's what he wants. He wants you to know that he’s got you liquified in the little pool in the palm of his hand. You're his. “You…” Rubbing your clit slowly, you try to meet his eyes even though yours are closing. “You get off on this? Sick bastard.”

Joel tuts. “Did I say to close your eyes?”

“Joel, I—”

“Keep. Your eyes. Open.” You increase your pace, your hips bucking a little into your hand, and peel your eyes open. “Keep ‘em on me. Just like that.”

“I need…” You sigh in frustration, trying to give him your best pitiful look even though you know it's fruitless. You’re putty in his hands. You'll touch yourself for as long as he wants you to, even if you never come. “I need…”

“Say it,” he says, and you hate how soft he sounds. The kiss of a warm breeze at nighttime, the silvery wisps of air that curl up from between lips at the intake of the cigarette smoke. He coaxes you, coos at you, and it could be mocking, if he didn't like you so damn much. “Say what you need, baby.”

“I need to come, Joel. I need you. Fuck, I need you to touch me. I’ll… I’ll die if you don't touch me.”

Joel lifts his brows. Spoiled. You’re fucking spoiled and it's all his fault. It's your fault he's so hard, close to ripping a seam in his goddamn jeans, his cock throbbing and leaking precum. “Tell me why you're so fuckin’ wet. Tell me why you're cryin’.”

“You!” Head tossed back on the pillows. Eyes barely open, tears blurring your vision. Fingers frantically rubbing your poor clit to no avail. “You, Joel. You. It’s you. I’m yours.”

That. 

That's what he wanted to fucking hear. 

Joel unzips his jeans and disposes of them so fast it's like they're ablaze. Your fingers slow their relentless pace on your clit to watch his thick, hard cock slap up against his stomach. “No underwear?” you rasp. “That’s a little whorish of you, Mr. Miller.”

Joel grabs your ankle and manoeuvres you so you're lying flat on your back. You yelp, arousal shooting pants of pleasure through your body at his manhandling. “You wanna fuckin’ talk?” he grunts, crawling onto the bed and situating himself between your legs just so he can bite down on the flesh of your inner thigh. Your whole body jolts with shock.

He holds firmly into your thighs, leaving wet kisses from your navel to your needy clit. It's where he's wanted to be since the first fantasy. The first dream. The first sight. You look down at him, silver locks of hair shining in the darkness, and your gaze is so reverent that his heart wants to beat its wings and unshackle itself. A heart cannot be contained with a look like that—it must go free. It must expand. 

Your fingers thread gently through his hair, and it’s all the affirmation he needs. Somewhere in the air between you, two hands lock, and two souls intertwine. 

His tongue is hot between your slick folds. There are already tears in your eyes from your teasing, but it's something different altogether when Joel’s mouth finds your clit. The pleasure is so hot it freezes your veins. You're locked in place, the space between your brows creasing, your mouth falling open, as he flicks his tongue against your clit. 

Defibrillator. Each measured lick is a patch wrapped around a rib, a nerve, a muscle. Each administration hurls you through space. You're crashing into the stars on the way, bright white flashing behind your eyes. 

Tactile. The scratch of his beard and moustache rubs your soft skin raw. Your smell, your taste, tang and potency and the nectar of your sweet, soft gasps. He's spreading you open on a banquet table. He's licking into your cunt and making you mewl like a whore. He’s making you feel so good, so wanted, so happy. 

He can't be going to hell. Hell is not the taste of you. Hell is not the way you fist his hair or cry his name. Hell is not—has never been—your face, your body, your voice. Hell does not know the shape of you. 

This is the other place. 

His tongue circles your slick entrance, but it does not push past. Not yet. He moves back up toward your clit, dragging his tongue across each electrified nerve over and over and over—

His fingers bruise your thighs. His grip does not relent. Neither does yours. You cry his name, wet and gasping, a drowning woman seeking the muffled, distorted light above the surface. Joel’s lips seal around your clit, sucking and lapping at the rest of you until you're shaking and he can barely hold on. 

He does not stop when your orgasm crests. When your chest heaves in a ragged moan that sounds like pulling an open wound over broken piano strings. When your body stiffens, then relaxes, riding out the rhythm like a heartbeat as you come with such force that the pleasure has nowhere to go. Only up. Up. Up—

He isn't stopping. He's closed his eyes, drowning your anchor, forcing you to squeeze your own shut. He keeps going —licking broad stripes through your pussy, making out with it like he's fucking drunk off the taste of you. 

He’s drunk. He registers your orgasm, but he does not register that he needs to pull back, let you rest, fit his cock inside you to relieve his own arousal. He can hear your weak, whimpering cries, can feel the way you jerk against him when his nose nudges your sensitive clit. He cannot grasp anything except this. You taste so fucking good. You taste like relief. You taste like all the chances he wants to take. 

“Joel, I…” You're so weak you can barely speak, pushing him closer to your cunt, letting him take you even though you're not sure you can—

“Oh, fuck!” Your thighs tremble as you come a second time under his expert tongue. Joel grunts, apparently satisfied this time, finally lifting his head up from between your legs and pressing kisses from your thighs to your calves. He lifts himself up to his knees, securing your thighs around his hips. 

His cockhead taps your cunt, a small puddle of precum gathering on your pretty clit. Just because he can, he grabs the base of his cock and smears the pearly white liquid over your pussy, notching himself at your hole. 

You catch a glimpse of how his girth dwarfs your tight entrance and your eyes widen. “Joel… you’re…” 

“I know,” he says. “You gonna be okay?”

A steely determination settles in the crease of your brow, and you hug your thighs tighter around his hips. “I can take it.”

That's his girl. Joel pushes his hips forward, watching your hole seal over the head, wet and fucking warm. “Jesus,” he mutters. Your head falls back and your eyes flutter. 

“Focus right here, baby,” he says, patting your cheek. You struggle to keep your eyes open, looking right into his as he feeds his cock into you. 

You gasp, blinking away tears as he bottoms out, so thick and heavy you can feel him in your belly. And he’s so smug, the bastard, giving you that wicked smirk. When he rolls his hips, pushing the head of his cock so deep that it kisses your womb, you choke on your moan. “You’re… such an… asshole.”

“Tell me all about it,” he says, securing his hand on the back of your thigh and pushing it toward your chest. The angle deepens, stars soaring across your vision, and he begins to fuck you. 

It's the cloying haze of ecstasy. Being inside you burns holes through him, cigarettes on skin. He's vaguely aware of the slick noises his cock draws from your wet pussy, the slam of the headboard against the wall as he fucks you into the mattress. His back pinches in pain and he knows he'll feel it tomorrow, but you look so cock-drunk, your head lolling and your eyes rolling back, that he can't bring himself to care. 

Your hands claw at his chest, his shoulders, trying to pull him down toward you even though your leg is bent back toward your head. He gives you a moment of reprieve to lean over you, his hand braced next to your head and his mouth slanting over yours. You hum happily, your fingers scratching at the nape of his neck, and he will do anything—anything—to make you feel good. 

In a flash, he twists your leg so you're on your stomach, then hauls you up by your hips so you're on your hands and knees, all without pulling out of you. “Joel!” you squeak. 

“Fuck. This body.” He slides one hand up your spine as he slams into you from behind, gritting his teeth and pummeling your ass with his hips. “This tight… fuckin’… body.”

“Ah, fuck—” Your body jolts forward and Joel grabs the headboard just to steady you, stopping it from slamming against the wall. He slips his hand around your chest and hauls your body up against his, lavishing your throat with his hot mouth. “Joellllll,” you whine. 

“Feel good, baby?” he grunts, grinding his cock deep. You cry out, your hands blindly grasping behind you for a purchase on his hips. 

“So— fuck! —so good. You’re so big.” The breathless praise fills his head with air, ballooning his ego, making him pull you closer. 

“You can take it,” he says into your ear, the rhythm of his thrusts perfectly attuned to the response of your body. He's learned you, mapped you, and you're all for him. 

You gasp his name, your head turning to bite down on his bicep as he fucks you so thoroughly that your brain is liquifying to warm honey. Joel grits his teeth at the twinge of pain, his balls pulling up as his orgasm nears. “That’s it, baby,” he pants, letting your upper half bend back down onto the mattress so he can rub your clit. 

“Oh! Yes, yes, yes.” Your hands flex against the sheets, wrinkling them between your fingers as your cheek presses into the mattress. The rippling of your ass with every slap of his balls against your clit is a delicious sight, and the way your thighs tremble only makes his hips stutter. He’s going to come. He’s…

Your pussy clenches around him, your whole body seizing as you come on his cock, pushing out a weak cry. “Joel, I… oh, fuck.”

“I got you, baby. It’s okay. Let go; that's a good girl.” He removes his fingers from your clit when you begin to buck and cry from the overstimulation, his hand leaving the headboard to grab your hips. Now, he can fuck you hard and fast, your body limp and pliant underneath him. “Just let me… shit, let me… gotta—”

Your gasps are wet and your cheeks are drying from your tears. “Oh, my—” Your mouth drops open at his relentless pummeling. “Oh, shit!”

He feels the telltale splatter of wetness on his balls and his thighs before he registers that you're coming again. Your body shakes without abandon, your eyes squeezing shut and your pussy sucking him deeper, deeper still. It’s loud and smacking and slick in his ears, and he loses his goddamn mind. 

His orgasm pinches every nerve in his back without warning. He groans, fisting your hair, instinctively pushing his hips flush to your ass and drowning your cunt in his hot cum. 

“Goddamn… shit. Jesus.” He covers your body with his, his forehead pressed to the space between your sweat-slick shoulder blades. You can feel his breath puffing out against your skin. 

“Joel,” you moan weakly, your knees close to giving out, your hips aching. 

“Fuck. Fuck, baby, I’m sorry.” He hauls himself upright and pulls out, his cock pulsing at the sight of his cum dripping out of your used hole. “I came inside you.”

“I can feel it,” comes your muffled giggle, wiggling your ass at him. “I’m on the pill.”

He collapses next to you, tucking you into his side, his nose nudging yours before he slots his mouth over yours. You kiss him happily, sleepily, draping your arm over his broad chest. “Gotta clean you up,” he grumbles into your mouth. “Made a fuckin’ mess.”

You put your lips to the corner of his mouth, the patches in his beard, smiling against his cheek. “Shouldn't have manhandled me so good, then.”

Joel chuckles, smacking your ass. “Funny girl. C’mon, get up.”

You huff, taking his hand as he helps you off the bed, catching you around the waist when your knees give out. “Easy,” he laughs. 

“Your fault.” You steady yourself by holding onto his arm as he takes you into his bathroom. “You took me by surprise. Didn't think an old man could fuck like that.”

“Smartass.” Joel gives your ass another slap and closes you both inside. He wets a washcloth and wipes it between your thighs, enjoying the little whimper that leaves your mouth when it drags over your puffy clit. “Almost done, baby.”

He cleans up the cum that has dripped out of your hole and your own wetness, leaning in to kiss you softly when he's finished. You smooth his hair back, smiling fondly at his tousled appearance, the way he looks so relaxed, so calm. “I like you like this.”

“Yeah?” He lifts a brow, observing the marks you've left on him through the mirror. “Scratched up like a goddamn cat post?”

“Couldn't help it.” You lean into him and press gentle little kisses to the crescents and red marks on his chest and shoulders. “Now those other ladies knocking down your door will know you're not up for grabs.”

“You tell me where those ladies are first, and I’ll give ‘em a piece of my mind,” he chuckles, roaming his hands up and down your arms. “I’ve certainly never seen ‘em before.”

“Well, we women have a secret code,” you tell him. “A girl can tell. You're a hot commodity around here. Big, strong, tall, working man…”

His ego is getting a little overinflated at the ministrations of your sweet voice. He rubs his thumbs over your hip bones and shuts you up with a kiss. “Anyone ever tell you you're trouble?” he mumbles into your mouth. 

“Mmmhmm,” you reply. “But you can handle it.”

Goddamn right I can. 

#kiwisbell's fics #pedro pascal #whiskey sour #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #tlou hbo

[misaldragon]

The mercs (and others) red flags.

Saw someone else do a post like this, hated it, decided to give it a try at it. Please keep in mind this is my personal list so if you don’t agree with something that’s a-okay. I welcome constructive criticism and questions.

Scout: Talks to people who aren’t there (See the comic where Zhanna tried to bed scout), major ego (to be fair he is god's favorite but still), will pick a fight with someone for you (If you have social anxiety like i do you’ll want to shrivel up and disappear), kills people (this is just going to be a given with all the mercs), and dates might be cheap due to him spending all his money on Tom Jones merch (Scout may set aside money for dates with you if you say you want to go somewhere else though but man cannot buy a house for the two of you).

Soldier: Man is as dumb as a bag of rocks (he drank led water cut him some slack… Also dumb enough to fall for just about any scam), like scout he will also fight someone for you but be much louder and bombastic about it (please i just was to not exist, no, don’t fight the dad in front of his kids), VERY proud american (as an american, this country sucks), and will yell at you, other people, anyone, that baby in the stroller? Getting yelled at! (Generally very loud person and doesn’t care who you are… Also kills people).

Pyro: Do you collect bones? You do now (Due to Pyro vision bones are probably candy or flowers or something to Pyro… They have good intentions but my god is it scary/creepy if you don’t know about Pyro vision), bones might be animal or human bones and also general body parts (Pyro vision again), will not shower around you.. Do they shower (they don’t want to be seen without their suit on but will let you clean the suit with them in it), and will probably steal your lighters (this is going off a hunch but also stealing is not something i like… Also kills people).

Heavy: Works very closely to Medic a lot of the time (and Medic is… A lot), VERY happy to do his job (and since his job is killing people this can be concerning), maybe a bit too attentive to his guns (can certainly be off putting to see a minigun in a small bed next to a larger one), and he was out of touch with his family (as shown in the comics when he's worried about his family only to find out they have been defending themselves just fine).

Engineer: Probably a workaholic so he may forget dates (note, he’ll also do his best to make it up to you if he does and start setting up reminders for himself he’s just not used to being in a relationship because of his job), makes southern sweet tea (as someone who lives in the south i know how sweet our tea is, if you don’t want cavities from looking at a drink don’t let him make sweet tea for you), probably shot at you before (mans paranoid because of spies, don’t sneak up on him), and would pressure you to ride a bull (mechanical or not but he’d prefer it to be mechanical and one he made to make sure it’s not to much, still won't take no for an answer when it comes to this only… Also kills people).

Demoman: Substance abuse (alcohol, congrats to the original you got one right), probably mommy/daddy issues (his mom seems to be an angry elderly woman, dad is dead so it seems there's something there but that could just be me), believes in monsters/ghosts (i don’t but given how the world of TF2 works this is more a IRL issue), has probably blown himself up at least once (possible that he might blow you up if he's REALLY drunk… Also kills people).

Medic: This man is a walking red flag, made a deal with the devil more than once, stole his pet doves, stole a wedding van, puts animal organs in people, manipulative (mostly seen with the tfc team when he had to manipulate them to put animal organs in them), stole a man's skeleton, medical malpractice, probably not mentally well, will take your organs, and kills people… Probably not all of it either.

Sniper: Can skin any animal or even person flawlessly and tell you how too (creepy, and i don’t want to know), very good stalker and hunter (he does this with you because he wants to surprise you with something you like but conversation is his weak point so this is the next best thing in his mind), Pyro isn’t the only one that’ll bring you animal bones (at least he’s a bit more tactful about it, making it into actual stuff like alligator teeth necklaces, deer antler coat hanger, and snake bone coasters for a few examples), probably doesn’t shower as much as he needs to (at least he brushes his teeth… Also kills people)

Spy: Will eventually leave you like he did all his other partners (which we can see with Scout's mother since he didn’t help raise Scout), is french (must i explain?), secret past (will keep as much of his past a secret as he can but also find out everything about you he can), and he never fully trusts you (he’s a spy, it’s understandable but sad.. Also kills people).

Miss pauling: Does not have time for you (unless you join her on missions but that is a large order), doesn’t fully trust you (this is from vibes), cannot fully devote herself to you or the relationship (her loyalty is to the administrator), can kill you without anyone noticing (its just scary to think about).

Saxton hale!: Can and will fight people for you even if the person just looked at you funny ( the police have been called several times), will fight a hippy just because they are a hippy (He really likes fighting), willingly and knowingly sells weapons to mercs (man can kill and condones it), will jump out of a plane with you… you have no choice.

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 scout #tf2 medic #tf2 demoman #tf2 spy #tf2 soilder #tf2 sniper #tf2 engineer #tf2 pyro #tf2 heavy #tf2 miss pauling #tf2 saxton hale

[seventeenpins]

wanna be felled by you, held by you

pairing: Joel Miller x nonbinary!Reader

word count: 4.7k

summary: Joel has always issues with relinquishing control. Time in the safety and community of Jackson has changed him, though, and he wants to give all his control to you, let you pull him apart.

content/warnings: established relationship, non-binary transmasculine reader, no implied age gap, Joel is uncircumcised, vaguely implied past Joel x Reader x Tess polycule, Joel calls you sir & daddy, you call Joel a good boy, sub!joel, cock sucking, titty fucking (reader has breasts big enough to partake in such), face sitting, piv, a smidge of dysphoria alluded to, crying, everyone's bi, one (1) smack to the face, it's literally just 4.3k of smut with 400 words of domesticity, slight bit of bloodthirstiness (but just as love as consumption)

a/n: title from NFWMB by Hozier. There's a lot of fic out there with helpless naive reader (which is fucking excellent, don't get me wrong), but I wanted to write something where you and Joel are on par with one another. Also, wanted to say--this is written as one character's experience as a nonbinary person. I'm nonbinary, but in no way want to suggest that the way I've written this is necessarily a universal nonbinary experience. Pls be kind 💜 Would love to know if y'all like this and would read more nb reader fics!!

✨check out my masterlist for other fics 😚✨

The first time Joel asked you to blindfold him and fuck him rough, you thought he was joking.

You laughed and stroked his cheek, "That would be fun," you admitted, teasing, "Be careful what you wish for, baby."

He rolled his eyes and kissed you, and the day went on, uneventful.

The thought weighed on you. It would be fun, but this was Joel Miller talking. He was, arguably, something of a control freak. Insistent on shouldering burdens not only his own, but of all the people he loved. You'd never seen him willingly give up an ounce of control, and the few unwilling times it'd happened, he would drive himself nearly to death trying to seem unaffected by injury. He'd carry on as he insisted he must, even when his bones were broken or he was bleeding out. Even when you, or Ellie, or, Tess (back in the day) were patching up cuts or setting bones, he'd grumble and insist he was fine, only shutting up when he quite literally passed out from the pain or blood loss. He was as stubborn as he was devoted, and he was a devoted man.

So the idea of Joel relinquishing even a crumb of control seemed outlandish. You were a better shot than him. A faster runner, too. But he was so self-possessed. You were certain, too, it was part of the reason he was such a good fuck. He payed attention to every detail, noticed every one of your gasps and whines, at this point able to get you off faster than you could get yourself off. His fingers knew right where to press, his tongue licking and sucking at you, teeth biting at nipples, grip bruising you so deliciously. He could fuck you for hours and leave you stumbling, spent and sated.

That said, it'd be a lie to say it was an unappealing thought to turn the tables on him.

You'd love to pull him apart piece by piece, if he would ever let you.

Joel was off patrolling today, due back any time, and you were making dinner. You were thankful for the ingredients available in Jackson and swore to make good use of them, every single time.

You'd roasted butternut squash with garlic and sage, scooped out the flesh, and mixed it with spinach and cheese. Then, carefully piped it back into the squash skins and roasted it again.

It was decadent, and a favorite of yours. Rich and creamy and everything you loved about autumn flavors.

Right as you were turning the oven on to broil, you heard the latch click and heavy footsteps crossed the threshold.

"Supper's nearly ready," you call, and you hear a soft grumble from across the room as he stomped off his boots and hung up his coat.

Joel slides up behind you, arms circling around your stomach, chin resting on your shoulder.

"Hey baby," you greet, turning your head to place a kiss on the curve of his nose. "Good day?"

"Hmm," he grunts, noncommittal, "Better now that I'm home with you. Dinner smells great."

"Just a few more minutes left. Letting the cheese get bubbly."

"Mmm," he groaned, "Is this that squash thing?"

"Yep."

"Ellie home?"

"Nah. Out for the night, I think."

"So I get you all to myself?" He shoots you a cheeky grin.

"Don't distract me, Miller," you snort, "You will not cause me to burn dinner again, so help me God."

"Distract you?" He says in mock offense as he walks over to the fridge, "I would never distract you, baby."

He pulls out two beers and pops the tops, handing one to you. You clink with him and both take a swig. Jackson beer was something else. After years of nothing even slightly palatable, it was a luxury you swore you would never take for granted again.

Your timer buzzes and you pull the roasting pan out of the oven as Joel sets the table.

Dinner is pleasant. Joel's famished from patrol and he wolfs down his first serving at a speed that might have rivalled Ellie's, back when you were all travelling together. He finishes his first beer, and then a second, and when he reaches for the whiskey, you raise an eyebrow at him.

"You're really putting that away," you frown, and he winces, sheepish.

"I-" He starts, and stumbles, hesitating.

"You okay, Joel?" You ask.

He nods, and grins, and it's a funny grin because if you didn't know better you'd think he was nervous.

"I'm a bit nervous," he says, and your eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

"Why you nervous baby? Did something go bad on patrol?"

"No, I-"

"You trying to propose?" you tease, "Wait, no--you're cheating on me?"

"Oh shut up," he rolls his eyes and laughs. "Nothin' so serious."

"So-?" you press, "What is it then?"

He pours a finger of whiskey and takes a sip, and it's calculated. Calming. That bit of control, again, he needs to put off.

"You remember the other week, what I said?"

"My back hurts?" you suggest.

"Smartass," he snorts.

"My knees hurt."

"Jesus. No, the other thing."

You try and take account of whatever it might be, but nothing's coming to you.

"I have no clue what you're talking about, Joel."

He takes a deep breath and looks at you dead in the eye. Determined.

"I know you thought I was joking, but I wasn't joking," he says, "I want you to blindfold me. Fuck me rough. Let me... lose myself in you. Use me."

There's a moment of silence.

"You sure, Joel?" you ask, not wanting to sound too eager. "Cos I'm happy to do it, I just know that... well. If I were to expect anyone would like to be blindfolded, you're not at the top of my list."

"Oh really? And who's at the top of your list."

"Well, I bet Tommy would--"

Joel cuts you off with a sputtering cough as his whiskey goes down wrong. "Let's not talk about my brother right now."

"I remember Tess used to," you recall, and Joel nods. Shrugs.

"I guess I just- I've never seen you out of control. You sure you can do that for me?"

Joel ponders and nods. "I can be good for you," he insists.

"Okay, then," you tell him, "When do you wanna do this?"

"Well," he grins, and runs a hand down your arm, "Like you said, we'll be alone tonight."

"Joel Miller, you absolute freak," you tease and he grumbles.

You ponder for a moment before nodding. "Okay, baby, let's get showered and then we can start. I'm covered in cooking sweat, and I think you might still have a bit of clicker gunk on you."

He brushes at a chunk of something in his hair and grimaces. "I'll take care of dishes later. Let's go, baby."

Shower sex wasn't really your thing; there was always less friction than you'd expect, and one person would hog the water while the other was standing, freezing in the extraneous spray. It was easy to slip, and the angle was never quite right.

You did, however, love shower foreplay.

You let Joel run his hands across your back, spreading suds up and down you, rubbing at the sore impressions where your binder had cut into you throughout the day. You loved feeling his body, slick from the wet with coarse curls of hair across his entire chest, trailing down his torso, his belly, into the thick thatch between his legs. More than anything, though, you loved feeling his cock hardening against your leg as he massaged conditioner into your scalp, before you could turn around and return the favor.

Once you were both clean, you made your way to the bedroom.

Thankful that you'd changed the sheets this morning, you were thrilled that the bed was made with your favorite linen sheets. A little luxury that you could bask in, sensation that always delivered.

"You ready, Joel?" you ask, and he nods.

"Let's do it."

From the box under the bed, you pull out the blindfold. A makeshift piece that was once a sleeping mask, cut and stitched to have long, tying ends that could be pulled taught and prevent any light getting in. The two of you didn't use it often, and you'd been the only one to ever wear it, but it helped that it was a familiar thing.

"Sit," you tell him, and he backs up on to the bed. You take a moment to look him up and down, drink him in. You want him to see how you're looking at him. At all of him. From his freshly washed feet to his heavy, half-hard cock, to the damp curls of his salt-and-pepper hair, you want him to know exactly what it is you see. A man. A partner. A whole fucking meal.

You hold the blindfold up to him and wrap it around his head, crossing the ends over front and back again before giving it a little tug.

"Can you see anything?" you ask, and his face twitches a little as he tests it.

"No," he confirms, "Can't see a thing."

"Okay," you tell him, "Good boy."

He lets out a sharp, surprised exhale and you immediately see how his cock stiffens at your words.

"Oh, you like that, huh?" you ask, and he nods.

"Use your words, Joel," you tell him and he scrambles to obey.

"Yes, yes, sir, I like that."

"Mmm," you hum in affirmation, "Glad to hear it."

You start torturously slow, directing him as needed.

"Lay back," you tell him, "All the way on the bed," and he does, inching his way up.

"Arms up, too," you command, "You don't get to touch me without my say-so, got it?"

He lets out a grumble but nods.

"I'm gonna take my time with you," you tell him, and now you're making your way up the bed, close to straddling him, but not letting an inch of your skin press against his hard cock.

You know that the warmth of your cunt is radiating heat towards him, and that he can feel it as his hips unconsciously buck up towards you, focused enough that he still doesn't dare touch you, but not by much. You feel yourself start to get wet at the sight of him laid bare before you. It's times like these that you're awe-struck. So in love with this man you want to slice him open and bury yourself in the sticky wet viscera. Eat his guts. Kill for him. Die for him. Consume every part of him and let him consume you.

You lean over his body and press kisses to every silvered scar you can find. From his forehead, to the old bullet wound on his arm. Down his chest, his belly. The gouge you and Ellie had had to stitch up years ago, ugly and pink and perfect; a testament to his endurance.

Every press of your lips to his skin and Joel is gasping. You know he's feeling it--the thing you like most about being blindfolded is not knowing where sensation will occur next. Not being able to anticipate a touch here, a bite there, the way his hands grip your body. The surprise is part of the allure, and with every kiss you place on his bare skin, he lets out another shuddering breath.

"You're doing good for me," you praise, and you swear you can see him blush, his cheeks reddening beneath the blindfold.

You start slowly, dragging your calloused fingertips from the swell of his thighs, up his torso to his nipples, pinching them a little, delighting in the way he shudders at the sensation. You avoid his cock, but every time you run your fingers along his inner thighs, he would rut up towards you in a mortifying involuntary motion.

He was so eager. He was so fucking perfect. Exactly what you needed. You were so grateful, every day, that you'd made it this far when it had often felt impossible that you might live another day.

"Gonna let me play with you the way I want to?" you ask, and he nods, vigorous.

"So good for me," you tell him, "So good. Hard for me, ready for me to use, huh?"

"Yes," he agreed, "Use me, please."

You rub your drooling pussy against his length, getting it wet and slick. Then, you take his cock in your hand.

He wasn't expecting it and he's shuddering at the sensation. "It's so much," he whispers, awed.

Joel thrusts into your hand as you start pumping along his length in earnest. Your thumb swipes over his slit, and then slides down, gripping with your forefinger as you apply pressure to the base of his shaft, You watch as the blood vessels swell, your hands working as a pseudo-cock ring, and Joel whimpers and pants against the sensation.

"Look at how fat your cock is for me," you praise, "I can't wait to sit on this."

Joel's inhale sounds ragged and worn, and he exhales something close to a sob.

"Feel so good, honey," he tells you, "Fuck, your hands feel so good around me."

"You like this, huh, Joel?" you ask, and you know it's true. He's so hard, rubbing against you as he gives you all his faith, all his trust.

"Yes, Christ, yes!-" he gasps.

You give him a few more strokes and then lower yourself over him, holding your breasts tight together, letting his hard cock press up between them.

Your breasts weren't your favorite thing, God knows if top surgery were a safe option in this world you'd probably opt for it, but apart from an occasional dysphoric spell, you'd more or less made peace with that part of yourself. You knew, too, how Joel loved feeling the plush of your breasts against his skin, and when you were comfortable, you were happy to make the most of them.

The second you slid his cock between your heavy breasts, Joel lets out a strangled groan. "God, yes baby," he heaves, and without thinking, reaches to grab at you, clutching your shoulder with one hand and burying his hand in your hair with the other.

You immediately stop and draw back, delivering a firm smack to his jaw. Not enough to hurt, just enough to startle, and he reels back, throwing his head back onto the pillow.

"The fuck did I say, hmm?" you ask, and he lets out a breath.

"I'm sorry baby, sorry sir-"

"You know what you did wrong?"

"Touched you-" his breathing is heavy, labored in the most beautiful, raw way. "Touched you without your permission."

"That's right," you tell him. You drag your fingertips through his hair, along his scalp, down his neck and across his chest. He shudders and his hips buck up towards nothing, involuntary.

"You gonna be good for me now?" you ask him and he nods, vigorous.

"I'll be good for you," he hisses, "You're so good to me, fuck, thank you, thank you-!"

You lean back down, pressing your breasts together again. Fisting his cock and stroking it, watching him squirm. You press down again, letting him fuck up between your tits.

"Don't move," you warn him when you see his fingers start to twitch, "Keep those hands above your head and let me make you feel good."

"Yes sir-"

"Good boy."

He groans, and you start to move. Pressing your breasts tighter together, swallowing his length entirely, gliding up and down. You feel the slick of his tip starting to weep precum, smell the delicious tang of it.

With your free hand, you swipe a thumb over his head, delighting in the way he squirms and ruts against you.

You lick the slickness off your thumb and moan. "Taste so good, baby," you tell him, "You wanna try it?"

"Oh fuck, yes, please," he whines.

You swipe your thumb over his slit again and bring it up to his mouth, still sliding your breasts up and down his length.

"Open up," you direct, prodding at the side of his mouth. He does, opens his mouth with a shuddering breath, tongue glistening and ready. You press your thumb against his tongue and he licks and sucks at it greedily.

"Look at you," you tell him, "Licking up your own cum like a good boy, huh? So fucking good for me."

"Thank you sir," he hums, and you give him a quick kiss on the cheek.

"I'm gonna suck your cock now, Joel," you tell him, "And then I'm gonna ride you. And I'm gonna get myself off at least three times on you before you get to come. You got that?"

"Jesus Christ," he groans, "Yes-! Can I-" he cuts himself off.

"What?" you ask.

"Can I eat your pussy?" he asks.

You grin. "Ooh, look at you," you tell him, "Taking the initiative, huh? What a good boy you are. But you gotta be patient for me."

You scoot back on the bed and let a string of saliva drip from your mouth onto the head of his cock. He immediately shudders and fucks his hips up towards the air.

"Blindfold still blocking everything, yeah?" you ask.

"Yeah," he confirms, "Can't see a thing."

"Good," you say, and then without an ounce of warning, you grip his cock, stroking down, pulling his foreskin back and plunging the hot wet gash of your mouth down and around his entire length, nose pressing into the sweaty curls at his base.

The shout he lets out is delicious. Loud and strangled, half an exclamation, half a curse–"Fuck baby, Jesus fuckin' Christ that mouth feels so fucking good. I don't fuckin' deserve you, don't deserve how fuckin' perfect you are, how good you make me feel-"

You bob your head up and down, swallowing him deep and then pulling back, making sure to swirl your tongue along his head.

"So damn good," he gasps, and his words are stilted and broken.

You keep going, for maybe a minute, maybe an hour. The sensation is too much and he's panting and gasping. "I can't-" he cries, "you're gonna make me come, please-"

You pull off immediately, and he hisses at the loss of your lips around him, and then moans into your mouth when you lean in to lick against his tongue, letting him taste every bit of his own musk.

"You're doing good, baby," you praise, loving the way he shudders in response. "Now hold still, I'm gonna ride that cock."

You straddle his hips, swipe your cunt along his length, feeling the way he shakes and twitches against you. You're wet, so damn turned on, soaking, trailing your slick along him as you rut up against him. Then, you fist his cock and, excruciatingly slowly, sink down onto him.

The broken wail that escapes his lips is delicious, ragged and beautiful.

You bounce up and down, watching with pleasure as Joel's fingers twitch, like he's trying so hard not to reach for you, grab for you like he usually does.

You rock along his length, sliding up and down, nearly unseating him from you before sinking back down. You find the right angle for his cock head to press just right against that sweet spot and feel your legs start to shake.

"I can feel it," he grunts, teeth bared, "Feel you getting close."

"Think you deserve to feel me come around you?" You ask, and you can feel it approach. "Think you can feel me come all over this dick and you won't come yourself?"

"Yes, sir," he cries out, "I'll be so good for you. Won't come till you let me."

"Good boy," you stroke his cheek and rub your thumb over your clit in punishing circles, feel your pussy start to clench.

"Gonna ride this out," you tell him, and feel yourself tip over the edge with a broken gasp. Your walls throb around him, pulsing tightly, and Joel looks absolutely pained as you slam yourself down him over and over, practically choking his cock with your tightness.

You're heaving and half-overstimulated but the way he looks wrecked is so beautiful you need more.

"Think you can handle another one?" You ask and he splutters a gasp.

"Already?" he breathes.

You keep your thumb pressing circles round your clit as you keep riding.

"Already." You agree. You've barely finished riding through the aftershocks but you're so wound up, you know you can get yourself there quickly.

"Fuck," Joel whines, "Oh god, oh god-"

You feel yourself start to tip over the edge again and Joel's face is screwed up in concentration, doing his absolute best not to bust in you before he has your permission. His cheeks and chest are flushed, sweat dripping down his temple, soaking into the blindfold. He breathes ragged, heaving breaths and the sight before you makes you come all that much harder.

"God, you feel so fucking good, baby," you tell him, and your pussy's still clenching around him, your slick gushing around him, drenching his thighs.

You pull off of him and he chokes at the loss of contact.

"Gotta taste us now, baby. Clean this pussy up. When you're done, I'll let you come."

He nods, eager, and opens his mouth, his tongue waiting to taste you.

"Need you down the bed," you tell him, and he scoots down, tongue still out. You climb up his body, straddling his stomach and his chest, trailing slick all up his torso, before resting your knees on either side of his face and slowly lowering down.

He's so dedicated, the moment he feels your heat near him you can see the way his mouth waters, his tongue darting out to find your folds. He licks you deep and long, groaning at the taste.

"How do we taste?" you ask, and his exhale is shaky and rough.

"Never tasted anythin' this good in my life." He tells you, wrecked. "We taste so fuckin' good together. Could drink ya all day long."

"We might have to try that," you ponder, "But for now, I just need you to give me one more. Can you do that? One more, baby boy?"

"Fuck, yes sir." He nods his head vigorously and reaches his neck up to press his lips back to your dripping cunt.

"Yeah, that's it. Nice long strokes now, yeah? You gotta swallow every drop of me baby, every drop of this pussy juice I can give you."

He grunts an affirming noise and does as you ask. Long licks from taint to clit. Deep, hot, laving wetness, making you jerk and mewl, riding his face like he was made to take it. Maybe he was.

"When it's good and clean," you instruct, "I need you to focus on this clit, yeah? That's it, baby, point your tongue. Press hard. I've already come twice and I'm nearly numb– Need that extra bit of sensation if you're gonna get me off right, and I know you will get me off right if you wanna come tonight."

Every sound he makes is akin to a whine, a gasp, a sob. He buries his face deep, at one point nearly reaching up to grab your thighs and pull you closer, but he realizes his mistake before he starts to touch you.

"Good boy remembering the rules," you praise, and you grab him by the wrists, holding them against the bed, above his head. You sink lower, letting yourself nearly suffocate him, but he doesn't mind. He loves it. Growls into your pussy and eats you till tears are pooling in his eyes and your legs are trembling so hard you're worried any extra sensation might topple you over. It's building quick and fast and so fucking nice.

"Joel, I-" you stumble, nearly unable to speak. Overwhelmed. "I think I'm gonna come again." You say, and you feel the rumble of his affirmation against you.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, yes just like that, you eat pussy so fucking good, I'm gonna, I'm gonna-"

You come with a scream, thighs smothering him, hips rocking against his chin, his tongue, his nose. The scratch of his patchy beard feels incredible against your soft skin and you fuck his face hard, less careful than ever before about how you sink into him.

Catching your breath, sated, you pull yourself up and off Joel, licking his face clean of your cum as you allow him to catch his breath.

"Done so good for me," you tell him, "You ready to come now too?"

"Yes-" he cries, still gasping for breath, "Yes, sir."

"Can't believe we've never done this before," you praise, "You're a natural. Just gotta give up a little control like a good boy, let daddy make you feel good."

He shudders and twitches, groaning at the name you've given yourself.

You turn your attention back to his cock and nearly gasp. It looks red and angry with need, precum catching at his foreskin before overflowing, streaming down his length.

"Where do you want to come?" you ask him, giving him this one concession.

"Huh?" he asks, clearly surprised.

"In me?" you suggest, "On me? Pick a hole. Pick a body part. It's yours."

"Jesus," he groans, and thinks. "Your mouth," he decides, "Wanna come in that sweet mouth."

"It's yours."

You seat yourself at the end of the bed and give him a few kitten licks, loving the way he hisses as you clean the arousal off of him. "You can come for me whenever you want, now, baby," you tell him. "Did so good, I think you deserve it."

"Thank you," he cries, "Fuck, thank you baby."

You pull his foreskin back again and wrap your lips around his throbbing head, loving the taste of the tangy musk of the nectar spilling from him. You don't go down far, just around the head and back again, just a little. Sucking hard. Licking. Drinking him in. He shudders and gasps and cries and you're pretty sure he's weeping at this point, his hips bucking up, pressing his cock deeper and deeper down your throat.

You let him. He's certainly earned it by now.

In a few moments, his thrusts get erratic, and you run your teeth gently along the pulsing veins, marveling at the beautiful, intricate web of life that rushes through him, red and hot and so close to the surface. Blood pumping so fast and thick.

"I'm comin'-" he chokes, and suddenly, hot sputtering bursts of cum filling your mouth, coming and coming and coming till it's dripping out the sides of your lips and dripping down your chin.

You keep a hand around the base of his cock, jacking him gently till you're sure everything he has to give is in you. Running a hand up his body, you delight in the harsh, heavy breaths he gasps out.

Groping around his head, you pull at the blindfold, tugging gently till it's pulled above his eyes. He scrunches them closed for a moment, readjusting to the lit room, before looking at you, jaw dropped.

You're sitting before him, totally bare, skin sticky with sweat, thighs glistening, and his cum in your mouth, except for where it's dripped down your chin and breasts. You open your mouth to show him, just for a moment, and then swallow, delighting in the way he groans at the sight. Then you wipe your chin with the back of your hand, lick it up, and pull him up towards you so you can kiss him properly.

He grabs you by the back of the head and pulls you in, hungry and sated at the same time.

"That was so good, honey," he tells you, "So fucking good."

You give him a gentle kiss to his forehead, enjoying the sensation of your sweaty, sticky bodies pressed against one another. His tears, unimpeded now, are streaming down his cheeks but he's grinning like a maniac.

"Never thought you'd let someone fuck you blindfolded like that," you tell him and he snorts.

"Me neither," he admits, "But- I trust you. And I'm workin' on it. On bein'- vulnerable."

"I liked it."

"Me too."

"So, can I tie you up next time?"

Joel snorts. "We'll see. Might need at least a week to recover from this one."

"We'll see," you agree, smirking. "We will see."

#tlou #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #joel miller x nb!reader #sub!joel miller

[karmic-vibes]

If I Can Dream

22 - Answer’s Gonna Come Somehow

art credit: @lazylittledragon on tumblr / lazyjunebug on twitter. these specific panels are from the digital zine juno posted. go buy and support!!!!! there’s so many phenomenal works in there and it’ll warm your little heart.

cw: n/a :)

Year: 1995

“And what’s that?” Bobby pointed to Dustin’s book.

“That’s a character guide,” Dustin smiled.

“And that?”

“Guide to NPCs.”

“What’s an NPC?”

“Non-playable character,” Dustin chuckled.

“And those?”

“Villains. Bobbs, did you know that your papa is a dungeon master? He knows a lot more about this stuff than I do.”

“Whoa, really!”

“Yes, really.”

“And what’s the game called again?”

“DnD.”

“Got it. Papa!”

Bobby ran from her play room into the living room. Eddie was sitting on the couch, completing the finishing details for the campaign he’d be running later that day. Bobby crashed into the couch and rested her chin on the arm rest. 

“Papa?”

“Hi, pumpkin,” Eddie smiled.

“What’s D-n-D?”

Eddie’s eyes shot open as he looked to his little girl. He set down his pencil and notepad as he slid to his knees. He braced his hands on Bobby’s shoulders and pulled her close.

“Bobby Judas, my sweet, sweet girl. I need to tell you, with every fiber of my being, that this is the best day of my life.”

Bobby smiled proudly as her father whisked her into his lap and explained what he was doing with his latest campaign. She reclined back onto him as she was sucked into the enchanting fantasy world.

“And what’s your character, papa?”

“I was initially a bard, but since becoming dungeon master, I’ve been a vampire—Kas—Vecna’s second lieutenant.”

“What’s daddy?”

“Daddy doesn’t have a character.”

“Why not?”

“I dunno, pumpkin.”

“Daddy!” She yelled.

Steve’s ears rang at his daughter’s shrill shriek echoed throughout the house. He dried his hands on a rouge dish towel and wandered off to find the hell spawn.

“Yes, Bobby?”

“How come you don’t have a DnD character?” she asked.

“Because I don’t play.”

“But why not?”

“I never really understood it.” He shrugged and tussled her hair.

“Hey,” she whined.

“Oh, sorry, bug, I forgot you had hair clips in. Here, let me fix them.” He knelt to her height and unclipped her barrettes, promptly fixing them. “Better?”

“Mhmm.” She kicked her legs, accidentally knocking Eddie’s knees and shins.

“Ow, Bobbs, be careful, please,” Eddie said.

“Sorry, papa. So, do I have a character?”

“You do, actually,” Eddie smiled proudly. “On your first birthday, we threw you a DnD themed party where everyone came dressed as their characters. Since you didn’t have one yet, I made you one.”

“What am I‽” She gasped.

“You, my dear, are a first level Neutral Good Human Paladin.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that you are destined to be the best person you could possibly be. You’re adaptable and take adventure seriously—I noticed all that when you were a baby, and I still stand by it.”

“Papa, can I play with you guys tonight?”

“I can ask the rest of The Party, but there shouldn’t be any issue, pumpkin. Dustin!”

“Yeah?” he hollered back.

“Why’re you still in my daughter’s playroom? Come here, please!”

“What?” He asked, running down the stairs. “Everything okay?”

“No, Henderson, why would you introduce my child to DnD?” Steve asked, hands resting on his hips. “Now it’s two against one,” he teased.

“Ignore him,” Eddie rolled his eyes. “Would you mind if Bee joined us during our campaign tonight?”

“No, not at all. What would she be doing?”

“Well, I’ll start her off as second in command as dungeon master, then when it’s safe enough, we’ll work her in. Does that sound good, Bobbs?”

“Yeah!”

“Wonderful.”

“Does this mean it’s gonna be more tame?”

“Please,” Eddie scoffed, “as if my hell spawn couldn’t handle my sadistic campaign. Who do you think I raised?”

By four o’clock, the entirety of The Party arrived at the Harrington residence for an early dinner, prepared by Steve. The boys (and Bobby) dug in and by five o’clock, the game had started. Eddie lugged Bobby into his lap and leaned back in his masters thrown.

“Bee, you may begin,” he said.

In the deepest, gruffest voice she could muster up, Bobby leaned forward, only eyes peering over the master guide, and she set the scene for the campaign. Her voice changed with each character, however, sputtering a bit whenever she couldn’t pronounce something. Eddie would match whatever voice or tone she was putting on and sound out the words with her.

When Eddie knew it was safe for Bobby’s character to enter, he sat his daughter down in her own chair and set the stage to introduce her. He flipped his locks back and smiled proudly at his little twin.

“As you clear the luscious green hills after conquering the stampede of trolls, you encounter a lone traveler. Human, state your name and class,” Eddie announced.

“I’m Bonnie Priest, a level one, pala… pala… papa, help, please…” She leaned forward in her chair, kicking her legs aimlessly.

“Paladin,” he whispered.

“Level one paladin!” she cheered. “And I’m ready to defeat Vecna!”

Eddie quietly chuckled as he admired his daughter’s spirits. As she continued with her opening speech, he whispered, “that’s my girl.”

Unfortunately, the night came to an end quicker than usual, as Bobby’s bedtime approached faster than most assumed. Steve entered the basement at eight sharp to collect Bobby and get her ready for bed. With much protest, he managed to get Eddie to wrap up the one-shot and persuade the spawn upstairs.

But as soon as Steve scooped her up in his arms, she was dozing off within seconds. Eddie was left to say goodbye to The Party as Steve was doing Bobby’s nighttime routine. When it came to her bedtime story, she refused to sleep until Eddie read to her.

“Pumpkin, you’ve spent all night with papa—I’ve missed you. We usually have our movie and coloring night tonight. Can’t daddy read you a story to make up for it?”

“But papa does voices,” She pouted.

“I can do voices too. What do you want to read? Just tell me what you want, and if you don’t like it, then I’ll get papa, okay?”

“Okay…”

“What do you want to read?”

“Tell Tale Heart.”

“Again?”

“Yes, again…”

“Alright, I’ll grab it.”

While Steve put in a valiant effort, Bobby still demanded to be read to by Eddie. For days to come, Bobby clung to Eddie more than usual, taking a particular interest in his hobbies.

One day, when Steve was stuck at work, Eddie picked Bobby up from school on his own. He sent her into the den to complete her homework—he was over in the next room plucking his guitar and scribbling down new lyrics. When she was finished, she wandered in and sat at Eddie’s feet.

“Hi, pumpkin,” he smiled.

“Can I play?” she asked.

“You can try,” he chuckled. “It may be a bit too big for you, but go for it.”

He handed the acoustic guitar over to her, sitting behind her to hold it and guide her hands. While her strumming was deafening, Eddie still egged her on, not wanting her to give up on any potential hobbies.

“You know, daddy used to sing to you before you were born,” Eddie said.

“Did he?”

“Oh, yeah, it was horrific.”

“Was it?” Bobby giggled.

“No, it wasn’t bad,” Eddie smiled. “God, he has loved you since day one, pumpkin.”

“You didn’t?” she pouted.

“No, of course I did, but… I dunno… I initially never wanted kids, but daddy? He wanted like five of them. He was so excited when he found out I was pregnant. But me? Lord, I was terrified. I love you more than life itself, Bobbs, but I was so, unbelievably scared at first.”

“That’s okay, papa. Babies are scary.”

“Yes, they are,” he laughed.

“Hello?” Steve called, walking through the front door.

“Hi, honey,” Eddie beamed.

“Hi, daddy!” Bobby cheered, storming the door and attacking him with hugs.

“Oh, bug, it’s only been like eight hours,” he chuckled.

“I love you, daddy.”

“I love you too, pumpkin. What’re you doing? Playing guitar with papa?”

“Mhmm!”

“Learn anything?”

“Not yet.”

“But she’s getting there,” Eddie added. “Just a little more practice and she’ll be a pro.”

The family went about their evening as normal, ending with the boys putting Bobby to bed with a story of her choosing. Once she was sound asleep, they headed back downstairs to tidy up before hitting the hay themselves. As Steve washed the dishes, and Eddie scrubbed the counters, Steve let out a heavy sigh.

“Hey, Eds?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you think… have you noticed… uh…”

“Uh? What’s wrong, Stevie?”

“Do you think Bee’s been a bit, I dunno… off lately?”

“What do you mean?”

“She’s just been bouncing from hobby to hobby. A lot more than most kids her age do.”

“So? She’s just curious.”

“No, Eds, what I’m…” Steve trailed off.

“What?”

“I think she has either ADHD or ADD…”

“Why do you say that?”

“Think about it, Eddie. Her grades have been slipping a bit, she had that weird stint with a temper last year, and now she’s trying to take on a million new hobbies at once. Her brain is going a million miles a minute.“

“So? I was that same way when I was a kid.”

“And you graduated high school three years late.”

“Yeah, alright, you make a good point,” he sighed. “What do you want to do about it?”

“I think we should take her to see someone… or at least start with talking to her teachers to see how she’s focusing and participating in class.”

“If you think it’s necessary, then I say let’s go for it. After all, this is your line of work.”

“Sorta.”

“Closer than mine,” Eddie shrugged. “But, Stevie, even if she has ADHD, would you really want her to be on medication so young? I mean, she’s barely seven.”

“I mean, kids can start taking small doses of medication as young as six. There’s a lot of research in this. I think it would be more beneficial to treat her and hopefully benefit her in the long run than to keep her off it.”

“If you say so…”

Several weeks passed and after a lot of conversation with several professionals, Bobby was eventually diagnosed with combined type ADHD. To accommodate both the boy’s wishes, she was initially placed in both behavioral therapy to try and gain control over some of her outbursts, then if that failed, they’d move on to medication.

Bobby wasn’t taking the treatment as well as they boys had hoped. She always threw a fit whenever they brought her in for her weekly appointments. She said that she felt like an outcast—a freak—and that was the last thing Eddie wanted for her.

Steve tried explaining that it was totally normal for some kids needing extra help in school, but she wouldn’t hear any of it. Instead, she barely spoke or even participated in her treatment sessions, so the boys were left with no choice but to start medication.

“I hate this,” Eddie sighed. “I really, really hoped she wouldn’t get any of my bad traits.”

“Bad traits? Ed, honey, it’s not a ‘bad trait’… she just learns a bit differently than others, and that’s okay. It’s normal.”

“She said she feels like a freak, Steve,” he teared up. “I grew up as the freak. Hell, even you, my own husband, used to call me a freak. I never wanted that for her.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a freak, Ed. Hell, I was labeled a ‘King’, and now I’m nothing but a lowly social worker. But you? Eds, you have albums out, you open for huge bands, and you’ve been on tour. There’s worse things to be than a ‘freak’.”

“I guess so,” he sighed. “I just know the feeling and it sucks. Kids are so mean. I just hope no one’s being mean to her at her new school.”

“If they are, then we pull her completely and just home-school her. At least that way you’ll be able to tour again,” Steve teased.

“Pfft, please. I’d rather her stay in school.”

“Why?”

“So she gets socialized and makes friends. At her age, it’s more important than traveling.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Steve took a sip of his coffee before glancing at the time and choking on his gulp. “Shit, we haven’t gotten her up yet. She’s gonna be late.”

“Fuck, I’ll get her. You start breakfast. Go, team, go!”

#eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #eddie st4 #eddie stranger things #gay #st4 #lgbtq #lgbt pride #joe kerry #joseph quinn #parent steddie #steddie dads #steddie #transgender #trans eddie munson #Netflix #dustin henderson #dungeons and dragons

[that-gay-guy-from-hell]

*rolls this over to you for Consideration* Probably gonna make a post on this later but personal headcanon that Vergil and Dante would both be really good at dance in an AU, or even in canon (they do it for fun), just because of how physically demanding it is. Dante I could see having the most fun with it, but Vergil I feel like could be good too. Probably better at keeping up with the rhythm and showing his partner off than Dante, but probably hates being the center of attention himself. Especially if it involves emotional stuff. (That and because Vergil knowing how to tango is just 👀 I would like to see it 👀 Would also like to see him get flustered and blush while dancing with somebody he's got a crush on, just because it'd be cute 💙)

AH OKAY, SO I ACTUALLY HAVE THOUGHT ABOUT THIS (because I've read quite a few one-shots that involve dancing with the Sparda babs) AND I AM GLAD YOU MENTIONED IT!

All underlined things are links to videos of the dance(s) that I referenced in my research lol Forgive the pixelated quality of some of these, they can get kinda old lmao

So, for starters: I think that all of the Sparda-bloodline would have been/are good dancers, some more than others. All of them are talented swordsmen and fighters which in and of itself is a type of dance. All of their heights might be an issue, however. As someone who is a very tall 5' 2" the fact that they are all over 6' tall would make dancing hard.

Sparda would've been the best of the four and he would've had the most knowledge on it. I feel like he would've been alive for long enough that he was able to watch humans throughout the years, learning lots of things... including dance. I feel like he and Eva would've danced a lot. As to what he would've done the best? Sparda would've been very good at all of it (since he's been alive so damned long) however I could see Eva just being into Rumba or something like a (very unprofessional) Argentine Tango--just because it would've been fun for Eva to do with her husband.

Vergil would be the next best dancer--at least, with traditional dances. He would've learned from Sparda when he was young, per the request of his mother. Vergil used to sneak downstairs late at night to see his parents dance and would mimic them, using an invisible partner, so she wanted to have Sparda teach him (because Vergil is interrupting Mommy and Daddy's time alone together lmao). He'd be good at things like the Foxtrot and Ballroom Tango. Anything fast he is amazing at while anything slow is a little harder for him. He tends to like moving around a lot and doing fancy twists or dips. However, he knows a lot of slow dances too. Vergil would also be very into single-person dances when in private; the first thing that came to my mind was Flamenco dancing. Just imagine getting Vergil either so ungodly drunk that he busts this out or challenging him--if you tell him he can't do something, he will do so just to prove you wrong. This blue devil would be really hard to learn from, he's bad at explaining himself, so you'd have to learn by yourself. It isn't anything against you, Vergil just sucks at teaching and he knows it. Vergil would 100% dance with you in private. It is an excuse to show off--and to get nice and close to you. The idea of him just coming up and nonchalantly asking to dance makes my heart just fucKING MELT. If you gave him the same treatment, he'd die on the spot. The stoned-face devil is a romantic at heart so his lover putting on a record (or CD if you aren't into vinyl) and asking to dance, just warms his cold heart. (This all applies to V as well--the only thing that's different is that V is better with slow dances since he can't move very well, to begin with.)

Dante and Nero would be on even grounds as to who is the better dancer.

I'm gonna start with Dante because he's older. Dante would be very good at just winging shit--the Dr. Faust scene is a great example, he didn't make it up but he just pulled it out of nowhere. If we want to talk traditional dances, Dante would be good at things that are fast--like the Salsa (I was thinking specifically Salsa Caleña), Balboa (pure or swing), Quickstep, and Merengue. He would be the most lax about his partner not knowing what the hell is going on and would be the easiest to learn from. As long as you and him are having fun he doesn't care how bad either of you are at it--or if you step on his feet the entire time, he just wants to see you smile. Dante would also be the only one out of the four to dance without an issue, like in a public or bar setting.

Nero would be an odd dancer. He's got the gumption and is able to keep rhythm pretty well, however, he just doesn't know any "traditional" dances. He'd just make it up as he'd go. His dancing would be relatively "aggressive" and he'd move you around a ton. Add that with his "wings" then you'd best hope you don't end up motion sick. Dante (eventually) teaches him some stuff so Nero would end up knowing Quickstep and Balboa (pure and swing). Nero would 100% get carried away in the heat of the moment and do little cutesy dances in excitement (nothing super intricate, just little wiggly movement-type stuff). He'd also be into just quietly slow dancing with you at home, holding you close, and just rocking with you. Just like his father, if you were to ask him to dance, he'd die on the spot. He is also the only one of the four that wouldn't mind you leading the dance instead of him.

I'd like to hear anyone else thoughts on this! If there are any dances that I didn't mention that y'all think might fit, please let me know. I might've been in theatre and was a performer, but I know absolutely dick-diddly about dancing; I was born with two left hands for feet, if that helps make sense of things lmao

MASTER LIST FOR TUMBLR

#devil may cry #vergil #devil may cry 5 #vergil devil may cry #dmc #devil may cry vergil #dante devil may cry #devil may cry dante #nero devil may cry #devil may cry nero #sparda devil may cry #devil may cry sparda #eva devil may cry #devil may cry eva #dancing #headcanon #Vergil aggressively flamenco dancing makes my brain go brr #fluff #drabbles #random shit

[voightsangel91]

Summary: Hailey and Jay are working things out with Voight in the midst of all the chaos after Anna's death and Voight getting shot.

What was it that attracted people to Hank Voight? More importantly what attracted Hailey Upton and Jay Halstead to their Sergeant. Was it his disregard for doing things the formal way? Was it how much of a badass he could be, and make it look cool? Was it the way that he got away with highly illegal shit and acted like nothing happened? Or was it his ability to turn certain emotions off and on in order to manipulate situations? Could it be the daddy issues that both of them had? Who knows.

Hailey and Jay found themselves in the break room, holding their coffees and quietly discussing what they were going to do with Voight. Ever since Hailey shot Anna, Hank hasn't really looked at her or spoken to her much. And when she died, Hank lost it. Started a one man patrol of her neighborhood to make sure to get rid of Los Temenos for good. Trying to make Anna's death mean something.

In the process, Hank was losing sight of the important things. He was taking unnecessary risks for the team and completely disregarding his own safety. Voight wasn't okay. Far from it.. but he was still in denial. And right now Jay was the only person getting through to him. He was filling that void in Hank's life where Alvin had been. Where Antonio had been. Even Lindsay. Those were the only three people that could truly reel Hank back in.

"Hank, you can't keep doing this. You're gona get yourself killed. I'm not gonna stand by and let that happen. I'm here because you need someone to reel you back in. I get it. It sucks that Anna died and you're blaming yourself. But you've got other people in this team depending on you to keep it together. Not just Hailey and I. So I'm asking you, man to man, what do you need me to do to help you?"

"Have a seat Jay. Have a drink with me." Hank says pulling two glasses from his desk and a bottle of scotch.

"Whatever you need man, I'm here for you." Jay says. "And in case you didn't realize it yet. Hailey thinks you hate her because she had to shoot Anna."

"I don't hate her." Hank says quietly from behind his glass. "I hate myself for putting Anna in that position. She felt trapped and she fell off the wagon. She was clearly on drugs that day when she started running. If anything Hailey saved my life that day. I don't hate her."

"She needs to hear that from you. She's been beating herself up for shooting Anna." Jay says taking a sip of his drink. "I kinda feel like I'm losing both of you right now."

"You haven't lost me. I'm just terrible at grieving when I lose people. Anna's death was definitely my fault. And I feel worse because her son has nobody now. I took away something he can never get back. I know what that is like. That's what Justin went through when he lost his mother. And things went downhill for Justin from there. I don't want that for Rafa."

"I think Rafa will be okay with his relatives." Jay says. "I think you should focus on healing up so you can get back to work. So you can focus more on work."

Hank nods. "I'll be fine Jay. I'm always fine even if I don't look fine. Tell Hailey I'll talk to her later after shift."

Later had come a lot sooner than any of them expected. Hank was downstairs in the basement with Hailey and Jay. "Look I talked to Jay earlier. I do not hate you Hailey. I hate myself for putting Ana into that corner. That was my fault. You saved my life out there. This one hit harder than any other no doubt and I'm not okay. But I will be eventually. I'm gonna focus on healing this shoulder and getting refocused on work. We can't let our personal shit effect work. That was the rule." Hank says.

"That wasn't the only issue here. Jay spends way more time catering to you and I'm the one married to him."

Hank chuckles. "Jay is just being a friend. You two have each other. I have no one Hailey. My son is gone. My grandson is gone. My wife is gone. Alvin is gone. Lindsay is gone too. I have no one I trust anymore. Jay I trust. I'm sorry."

"Hank I, " Hailey started to speak.

"I'm sorry for keeping your husband away from you. It's just that he's my only true friend right now." Hank says.

#hank voight #hailey upton #jay halstead #chicago pd #one chicago #voight x upstead

[cantstoptheimagines]

just finished watching journey to bethlehem so i could see milo manheim and uhhh... here are my “train of thoughts” notes, meaning there is literally no organization here

@multifandomsimagine must hate me rn because i basically gave her a play by play of the entire movie bc it's just so campy. it's literally just a bible dcom to be quite honest. (also i am officially campaigning for milo manheim to play flynn rider and it’s all based on his role as joseph alone) 💀

They think I wouldn’t notice the inclusion of a Pair of Kings actor, but I did

Not even two minutes in, I can already tell this movie is going to be fucking hilarious

The narration sucks, it’s so bland

Why is the “Journey to Bethlehem” song suddenly a pop ballad?

The costuming is okay, but the language is so modern. This feels like a play written by TikTok

The first song is a bop

The facial expressions so far are very bland

I feel like it’s trying to provide some feminism anecdotes, which I find very interesting. Not what I expected at all to be honest

Feels like a play you’d do in high school for extra drama club credits

Joseph is literally just Wally Clark if he were in a Bible study club

I genuinely can’t tell if this is meant to be satirical or not

I’m living for Puss in Boots as an evil king, iconic

Good to Be King is the ultimate showtime villain song. I will die on this hill

Love the choreography in this villain song. Love men who can dance in sync while stomping their armored boots

THE SNAPPER LIGHTS, I’M CRYING

Love Mary’s betrothal outfit

This dialogue is so fucking funny and for what reason?!

Office camera glance

I really like the shot of them behind the water wheel thing, it’s gorgeous

His hand is so much bigger than hers, oh my god

Gabriel. Iconic. Hilarious.

Far more Mary centered than I expected. It’s definitely her movie

Camera work during Mother to a Savior is beautiful

Love the map graphics

That cut from Mary/Elizabeth to Joseph. The editing in this movie is so smooth

Good Joseph, Bad Joseph. Why is he dressed like evil Legolas? Their outfits are giving Anakin and Padme

The Ultimate Deception is definitely one of the best songs. Joseph fighting against himself in his own subconscious, singing a duet with himself! Are you kidding me?!

Officially considering Joseph fanfiction

The Magi are everything musical theatre needs right now

The donkey as a running joke lol

We Become We is a love song for the ages, try to prove me wrong, I dare you

Dancing with the fireflies?!!!!!! When will it be my turn

The way she turned her head away, this is so funny oh my god

A prince with daddy issues?! Guess I found my husband for this movie. He has a great song, definitely one of the best but it’s probably the least promoted. I’ve never even heard it before even though it’s so good

Why wouldn’t you just lie about where you’re from lol, am I missing something with that part?

Joseph jumping into action after Mary says she wasn’t the only one chosen for this. We love a Milo Manheim character

“we’re meeting the lord, surrounded by sheep shit” lmaooo

Mary and Joseph are just the smart girl, dumb boyfriend trope and I love them for it

Joseph carrying her through the streets. He should’ve been a girl dad

Bro just got knocked out by a donkey lmao

Silent Night scene with a donkey pacing outside the barn where Mary is giving birth is honestly great

A shining light over the world with an angel choir concert glowing and sparkling in the sky, hot damn, who would’ve imagined

“I’m holding all the answers in my arms” is such a good lyric

“Mine is the kingdom, mine is the power, mine is the glory forevermore” changing into “thine” was a pretty clever idea

Joseph kissing Mary’s head!!! STOP WHY AM I SHIPPING BIBLICAL FIGURES

“One who has come to save the lost.” “Am I lost?”

“You are not your father” CALL OUT THOSE DADDY ISSUES, MARY

Damn, ok, Antipater

*finally kisses Joseph* “You’re welcome” WHEN WILL IT BE MY TURN

Stay for the end credits just to hear Brand New Life, it’s a great song too. The credits also feature Go Tell It On The Mountain

Would I be weird if I wrote fics for this movie lmao

#2024 #personal

[admirablespoling]

Ok so I finally watched the whole of v2, not just scrubbing through and I’ve calmed down a bit but I’m still disappointed in a lot of areas that reach beyond Will and Mike that “straight boy” he loves.

I cried like a literal infant at that van scene because I felt so fucking bad for Will. I cried again when Papa was trying to stop El from leaving, and again when Will and Jon spoke for 5 seconds about being brothers, and again when Hopper and El reunited. (I take issue with queer pain and I have daddy issues ig)

The painting was a huge let down, overhyped, and it’s super obvious that whatever Will was painting in the opening sequence is NOT what ended up in vol 2. I’m not sure why, but they claim to be SO detail oriented and s4 was sloppy at best with the details (like the birthday gaff, the fact that no one considered a giant one way sign pointing into a closet may mislead people, etc.)

But…in terms of Byler. I honestly feel like they kept the door “open 3 inches” and it’s kind of a cop out. I said in a previous post that worst case scenario was an ambiguous ending. And while it wasn’t wholly ambiguous, there were still Byler crumbs and Melvin felt forced and it just seems…weird? Season 3 and 4 Melvin are just odd overall. Like pick a lane, Duffers. Are Mike and El head over heels or forcing it? At this point it seems like Mike has just been a confusing asshole with no consequences or explanation for two entire seasons. How he treats El AND Will is unfair and his character is practically irredeemable IMO. It’s gonna take a miracle for me to ever care about his dumbass again. I hope Will moves on quick, fast, and in a hurry. Also, Will sort of shot himself in the foot. He’s selfless to a fault and I was hoping he would be a bit more forceful.

They could have just left out that cringey and offensive love confession and I would have felt a bit more satisfied with the season overall. And to have Will coax it out of Mike added to the weirdness that Melvin has become. Like what?? It was 100x less interesting than the shed scene in s2. Like, who tf wrote that? Why must Melvin be so forced upon us but also so distant and shallow feeling? I truly don’t get it. Lumax got a decent season, considering.

Overall the episodes were decent. I don’t like that Vecna’s story was told mainly through exposition because it’s lazy. The action was fine and all but they overhyped a LOT, including Will’s storyline, the death count, and Mike’s character development. I just feel…exhausted. I don’t want to think about this show again until s5 drops. This is the El show now and I just need to accept that Mike is only her accessory.

I will hold a tiny shred of Byler hope but I’m going to have to shift my focus away from it after mourning that brutally butchered plot line. They are stringing us along while simultaneously ruining multiple characters that were once nuanced and adorable. Fuck, this sucks.

#byler

[littlelambdrgnfly]

came here to gush about your fics and ended up reading some of your other posts. I'm assuming you're renting your current apartment (with the mold 🤢) and honestly FUCK your landlord. They suck. No person worth their weight in salt would ever put up an apartment WITH A MOLD PROBLEM on the market. I'm so sorry. I wish I could promise you that it'll get better soon, but I'm in the same boat as you. All of the change at the moment is kinda shitty.

Anyways. Love your writing. It's incredible. I subscribed to your AO3 so I will be eagerly awaiting whatever you put out next. And if you don't post anything on AO3 ever again, I'll still log out of AO3 and leave kudos until I leave this godforsaken earth, even if I have to open multiple incognito tabs to do so :)

The housing/rental market is insane everywhere, but especially where I live, particularly considering average wages around here. My roommate and I felt lucky to find a place that wasn’t too far from her job, was over 1000 sq. feet, and cost less than $2k a month. I don’t even know what we’ll do when we do move out of here— I’ve spent a lot of time researching and reading comments from tenants at other housing complexes who also have issues with mold, bugs, flooding, etc, even the “nice” places that easily cost an extra $800 a month. I really and truly want to sue my landlord because A) they shouldn’t be allowed to charge people to live in their shitty units that make people sick and B) it may be the only shot I have to even possibly get enough money to put a down payment on a house and finally leave the rental scam behind.

Anyway! Thank you so much for your sweet comments, they really do mean the world to me! I wish I could be that writer who posts every week but I wasn’t even that before all of the mold shit lol. I know I ought to just make myself write even when I don’t feel like it, it’s just the damn brain fog that makes it feel like the hardest thing in the world. It’d be one thing if I didn’t care about how good it is, but I definitely do! Most people have probably assumed that I’ve abandoned “My Heart Belongs to Daddy” but I have at least three or four more chapters planned, and man do I want to finish them! I hate having an incomplete work sitting there for so long. Anyway, thank you again and here’s hoping for the best for all of us in 2024!

[unearthlytwilight]

sorry for the delay, art happened

Four-Fanged Offense: Linus edition!

no Pent. he's busy with travel time espionage stuff

Eliwood learning about borders as social constructions like

(from Lloyd's version, but I like it and it's my playthrough. so)

Legault screentime? yes give it to me

a wild Nino appears! she's running messages for Sonia, but wants to do something fun with the brothers once they're off work. she leaves, and Lloyd says she's a nice girl. Linus agrees and says it's hard to believe that Sonia's her mother. haha about that

they notice Eliwood and co., and Lloyd goes off to get reinforcements, telling Linus to not do anything stupid. Linus waits until he leaves and tells henchguy Igor that they're attacking. he says to try to keep the fighting out of the villages

note: bring Dart to recruit Geitz

oh, Heath. my homesick little murder machine. I love you. we are getting that B with Kent immediately

Geitz's recruitment is Dart recognizing him and asking him what he's doing. Geitz has daddy issues and says he's wandering before asking Dart if he can join. Dart says OK. prepromote Berserker acquired!

nice little worldbuildy details about the Black Fang

cutscene time! Nino complains that she wants to be fighting evildoers. Jaffar rolls up to the house late. Nino says this is weird, and he says that something delayed him. Nino is shocked that he's super bleeding everywhere, but he asks for the next mission and then collapses. oops

(you can actually visit the house. Nino asks whoever visits to keep their voice down. it's implied they ask about the Black Fang, because she denies knowing about them and yells at them to get out)

this guy wears Black Fang clothes, but is "a loyal citizen of Pherae". also he gives you a Silence staff. cool, thanks man

Murdock cameo!

first instance of the Black Fang boss theme, Softly with Grace. more on that naming later

...you've met Sonia, dude. if she had any more red flags she'd be marching in a Soviet parade. heck, she probably does in her free time

normal battle dialogue. interesting stuff

... and he dies! shouldn't have existed around Heath and equipped a sword, my dude. this is all your fault

supports obtained:

Lucius + Raven B + A

Eliwood + Ninian A

Erk + Priscilla C

Linus takes Eliwood hostage to do one last murder, which is bad because that's a game over.

honestly a pretty cool moment. I really like it!

a lot of conventionally "badass" guys snap off a pithy one-liner or are otherwise defiant when facing certain death, but Eliwood makes a pretty good case for quiet confidence

anyway! he says that he noticed that the mooks tried to keep the battle out of the village and asks why they're fighting, since they're both good people

note: when Linus lets him go, Eliwood says "What?!" implying he wasn't expecting to be released. man was totally ready to die for his friends and didn't even blink. moments like that are why I like him so much. he's not as loud as Hector, but I'd argue that he's just as brave

Linus backs off, sensing that Weird Stuff is happening, and resolves to go ask Brendan about it

(also in this chapter: Nino and Jaffar! he asks her why she didn't follow "the law of the Fang" [read: kill the wounded and skedaddle]. notice the quotes. anyway he starts bleeding again and she asks him not to die.)

unfortunately for Linus, Limstella teleports in and kills him. rip dude, I like your chapter better than Lloyd's

wow that got dark immediately. suicide is not the answer (also murder is not the answer)

meanwhile, in Bern, the happy royal couple. Hellene takes a couple shots at Desmond for putting her and Zephiel outside the palace and shacking up with some lady. though she's mean to Guinevere :(

title drop! this game's Fire Emblem is a big ol' gem Bern has that's necessary for the coming-of-age ceremony. so that's a problem. Hellene says it's his fault and asks why he sucks so much

Desmond peaked in high school, prove me wrong

the detail of her moving to the right is a nice touch!

Louise girlbossing for the greater good

a royally sponsored fetch quest. interesting

next time: yet another support episode!

#fire emblem #fe 7 #twilight plays: fe7

[isolavirtuosa]

Cass & Dean's Infinite and Beyond Playlist 6-10

[fanfiction] Dean/Castiel

Canon Compliant Coda / Sequel to Cass & Dean's Infinite Playlist

The one where Cass makes a Daddy Issues playlist.

Referenced songs playlist on Spotify.

Parts 6-10/26 under the cut. Previous parts here.

- 6 -

Sam and I had a tendency to end up at the other’s front door with a six-pack at fairly regular intervals.  This afternoon it happened to be Sam knocking on my door, and I was glad to have him.

“Where ya been, dickwad?” I asked, giving him a friendly slap on the back.

“Uh, down the street from you where I live?” he said, moving into the kitchen to get the brews on ice.

“Thanks for the geography lesson, Copernicus.”

Sam rolled his eyes at me, slouching against the kitchen counter.

“You want something to eat?” I asked.

“You cooking?”

“I could make some chili,” I offered.

Sam grinned and nodded enthusiastically.

“Okay, big brother will whip you up some chow,” I said, moving around the kitchen and gathering up the ingredients.

Sam cracked open a beer for each of us and set mine by the chopping board as I set to work.  “You’ve gotten so domesticated,” he mused at me.

“I’ve always cooked for you,” I said, waving it off.

“Yeah, but you didn’t always do it well,” he pointed out.

“Unappreciative much?” I grumbled.

“You know what I mean,” he said, not caring at all that he was wounding my very manly pride.  “I mean, once we were in the bunker you really came into your own, but this,” he said, gesturing to the extensive spice rack and the drying herbs hanging from the ceiling.  “You’ve gone all Julia Childs in here.”

“I would consider myself more of an Anthony Bourdain,” I commented, putting some olive oil in the pan and turning on the burner.

“Of course you would.”

“Shut up, bitch, I’m making you chili.”

Sam shrugged and took a swig of his beer.  “Appreciate it, jerk.”

“Go put a record on or something,” I said, my back to him as I worked my kitchen magic.

Sam disappeared into the living room.

I found myself humming Bad Moon Rising, until I was oh-so-rudely interrupted by Soul Meets Body blasting out of the living room.  “Dammit, Sam!”

“It was in your collection!” he shot back.

“Because of your bad influence!” I snapped, smacking my pan with the ladle harder than really necessary.  I was pretty sure there was no worse sound on this earth than Deathcab for Cutie.

“Hey, is it my fault that your angel got tired of all your mullet rock?”

“My angel loves mullet rock!”

He didn’t respond to that, but I could feel his smugness permeating the air.

I stomped over to the living, crossing my arms over my chest.

Sam was on the floor, surrounded by records as he sorted through them.

“Just so you know, every time Cass listens to this album he looks completely confused and keeps muttering to himself about how your taste in music friggin’ sucks,” I informed him smugly.

“Oh, yeah, that sounds like Cass,” Sam said, rolling his eyes.

“Okay, so maybe he says it in a more Cass-ish way, but the meaning is clear enough,” I relented.

“What does he say exactly, Dean?”

“He says, ‘does Sam not find this whinging tone grating on the eardrums?’” I said, doing my best eye squint and head tilt.

“Oh, kinda sounds like when he’s listening to metal and says, ‘how does Dean tolerate this affront to sound?’” Sam said, doing his own eye squint and head tilt.

I huffed at that.

Sam snorted.  “I mean, do we need to be taking criticism from a guy who listens to Britney Spears unironically?” he asked, holding up a Britney album.

That gave me pause for a moment, and then I felt my cheeks heating up for some inexplicable reason.  Maybe it was all the car dance parties Cass and I had been having lately.

My brother gave me a funny look, then tucked some of his Disney princess hair behind his ear and went back to flipping through albums.

I went back to my chili, grumbling about pussy emo music.

Dinner carried on with the same kind of relaxed bickering.  I finally got Sam to change the record, though how we ended up agreeing on listening to one of Bobby’s Kenny Rogers records, I didn’t know.

I was pleasantly buzzed.  We were talking about taking a drive up the coast, maybe with Eileen and Junior if they wanted to come.

“You should invite Cass, too,” Sam said casually.

And suddenly I just needed to know.  “How did you know?”

“How did I know what?” he asked, taking a pull from his beer.

I tried not to turn red and felt myself failing.  “About… me.”

Sam was now looking at me like I was crazy, which wasn’t really a new thing, but I hated that look when I was trying to actually be open with him.

“About me and Cass,” I sputtered out.

“What about you?” he asked, looking almost amused now.

“You don’t have to be a jackass,” I muttered, staring down at the table.

“Dean, I’m not…” he trailed off.  “What do you want to know?”

“I just said it,” I grumbled.

“How I knew about you and Cass?  What about you two?”

He wasn’t really going to make me say it.  “You just… you just looked at me and you knew.  And Charlie did the same thing.  And even Bobby.  And I don’t…” I trailed off, feeling shame start to coil in my belly even as I tried to fight it off.  “I mean, it’s not like anything really changed…  Just we’re… you know, and…”

“You’re in love,” Sam supplied softly.

“I… yeah,” I said, not minding that wording so much.  “But I’ve always loved him, ya know?  He’s Cass.  So nothing really changed, it just… shifted?  But you assholes all keep giving me these knowing looks like I… I don’t know, like the whole damn universe got flipped upside down…”

“Dean.”

I stopped and looked up at him.

“That night you came over, I looked at you, and it was like… some kind of tension had been released,” he explained.  “You looked… lighter.  Happier.  It was a good thing.”

“And why did you just assume that it was all due to Cass?”

“I didn’t,” he said.  “It wasn’t really about Cass.  It was about you, letting go.”

“Oh, okay, Elsa.”

Sam groaned.  “Dean, man, come on.  You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“Please enlighten me.”

“Okay, then,” he said, like he was about to school me.  “You’ve always had this idea of what it means to be a man-”

“Samuel,” I growled.

“You asked a question, Dean.”

I sighed, stabbing my chili with my spoon.  “Yeah, all right.  Do your Dr. Phil thing.”

“Oh, like I can tell the great Dean Winchester anything.”

“Sammy.”

We exchanged some non-verbal communication, and Sam finally seemed to accept that I wasn’t trying to be a complete ass and was ready to at least attempt to listen.  “Look, the way Dad raised you was fucked up.”

“The way he raised us.”

“No, Dean,” Sam said with a shake of his head and rueful smile.  “You raised me.”

I flushed at that, feeling my own mouth twitch into a small answering smile.  “That why you’re such a damn hippie?  ’Cause I’m pretty sure I told ya a million friggin’ times to cut your hair.”

Sam just kept smiling at me, his eyes conveying all the shit that definitely never needed to be said out loud.

“Was there a point to all this?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said, “there was.”

I waited.

“I think there are a lot of things that held you back from being happy when you were alive,” he said, “and a big one was trying to live up to Dad’s stupid standards.”

“Dad wasn’t-”

“Dean.”

Even now there was always a defense of my father lingering at the tip of my tongue.  I let it die.

“You’re really… kind,” Sam said slowly.

I snorted at that.

“Yeah, dude, I know, it sounds crazy,” he said, giving me a lopsided grin.  “But… you are.  You… were.  When we were little.  You… you always…” he trailed off, his expression losing its lightness.  “I didn’t have a mother, Dean, but you… you always held my hand when we crossed the street, and read stories to me after you tucked me into bed, and kissed my friggin’ knees when I skinned them and…”

“Yeah, yeah, I was Mother Fuckin’ Teresa,” I muttered, wishing he wasn’t staring at me with those big doe eyes of his, all watery.

“You were,” he said, the sincerity in his voice making me want to sink under the table.  “You were so… kind, so gentle, so… sweet with me.  Not with anyone else, because you already knew…  It’s like Dad beat the kindness out of you, Dean.  He sharpened you into the hunter that you needed to be, but he… he took something away from you.  Something important.  And when I was still little you could… like be yourself for a few minutes while you were taking care of me.  You were so… soft, Dean, you were…”

“Jesus, Sammy,” I groaned, because if I wasn’t already dead this conversation would literally be killing me.

“I know you don’t want to hear it, but I need to say it,” he said stubbornly.  “I was the only person you could be yourself with, and then I turned into a moody adolescent and you stopped holding my hand, you stopped hugging me, you stopped… everything, because I wasn’t a little kid who needed your affection anymore, but you…

“So help me god if you say I was the one who needed the affection.”

Sam raised an eyebrow at me.

I rubbed my face with my hand, feeling exhausted just listening to him talk.  “So all this has to do with how you knew that Cass and I are fucking, why?”

“Dude!” Sam cried, giving me a mortified look

It took me a moment to rewind what I’d said.  Shoulda stuck with ‘boyfriends’, but I’d dug this hole for myself and I was going to own it.  I looked Sam dead in the eye, pushed my tongue against my cheek rhythmically, and mimed giving a blow job.

The sheer horror in my baby brother’s eyes made it all worth it.  “You are sick.”

“Are you gay-bashing me?” I asked innocently.

He kicked me under the table.

I kicked him back harder.

“You’re not getting out of this by being you!” Sam snapped at me, emphasizing his point with another kick.

“Eat your chili, Sam.”

“Not until I tell you what a kind, sweet, lovable person you are,” he growled at me.

I laughed at that and picked up my spoon, shoveling food into my mouth.  It was easier when he wasn’t being sincere.

Sam started eating again, too, but then he put his spoon down suddenly.  “I saw that in your eyes.  When you were sitting on the couch with Cass.  That person you’ve always hidden away.  The one who loves so deeply and doesn’t care what anyone, especially John Winchester, thinks about it.”

“Yeah, whatever,” I muttered, and refused to look at him until all the chili was eaten and we were back to the mundane topics of our regularly scheduled sibling banter.

- 7 -

Cass was a cuddler, and his dedication to it was almost pathological.  He would climb into my bed in the dead of night, throwing the sheets aside and forcing my arms around him so he could lay his head on my chest and wrap himself around me.

The first time he did it, I woke up as soon as he touched the sheets, ready to fight.

“Hello, Dean, we are cuddling,” he informed me, snuggling into me.

“You don’t just… stealth cuddle someone, Jesus,” I complained, pulling my hand away from the gun that lucky for Cass wasn’t under my pillow anymore.  “Give a guy some warning, would ya?”

“But you looked so peaceful sleeping…”

“Do I seem peaceful now?” I growled at him, still half-asleep.

He just leaned up to kiss my cheek and then burrowed back into my chest like that was that.

And that was that.

I didn’t even wake up anymore when he came clamoring in.  After years of sleeping on a hair trigger, I could finally just sleep for as long as I wanted, as much as I wanted, as deep as I wanted, without always having to be ready to defend myself on a moment’s notice.

So it wasn’t a surprise when I went to bed by myself and woke up the next morning with an armful of Cass.

“Morning, angel,” I mumbled, aiming a kiss at the top of his head.

“Good morning, Charlie,” he deadpanned at me.

It took me a moment to wake up enough to understand the reference, then I cracked up.  “You Lucy Liu or Cameron Diaz?”

“Definitely Drew Barrymore,” he said.

I laughed harder.

Cass grinned up at me, looking all mussed and rumpled even though he hadn’t actually been sleeping.

“Love you,” I said sleepily, still laughing a little as I pecked him on the lips.

“I love you,” he replied, brimming with sincerity.  He always said it back, but never as a reflex.

“You stickin’ around for a while?”

“Yes, as long as John Bonham does not need my assistance in carrying out his duties today,” he said.

I’d stopped asking ‘the musician or the angel?’ after about the fiftieth time Cass mentioned some famous rock musician that he had business with, because it was always a damn angel that Jack had created and named.  It was my own fault, so I couldn’t really complain.  “Good,” I mumbled instead, closing my eyes and attempting to go back to sleep.

Cass’s stare was almost heavier than the physical weight of him lying on top of me.

I cracked an eye open, meeting his gaze.  “Could you… tone it down?”

His nose scrunched up in confusion.

“Haven’t you got better things to do than creep on me while I sleep?” I tried.

“No,” he replied, continuing to stare.

I rolled my eyes and pretended to be put out.

Cass just smiled at me.  “I like the way the morning light illuminates your features.”

“You are so corny,” I groaned.

“Says the corn-fed Kansas boy.”

I snorted at that.  “Yeah, Cass?  That what you’re into?”

“Corn-fed Kansas boys?” he asked, squinting at me.

I waggled my eyebrows at him.

“Well, there’s one I’d certainly like to get into,” he said, staring into my eyes pointedly.

All the air pushed out of my lungs and I had to look away from that unwavering gaze.

There were some things Cass and I didn’t do.

He laid his head back on my chest, one hand tracing up and down my forearm in a soothing repetitive motion.  “Do you want coffee?” he asked suddenly.

“Hm?” I said, realizing I’d been drifting back to sleep.  “Nah, not yet.”

“You want more snuggle time?” he asked, scratching his five o’clock shadow against my neck.

I was supposed to tell him that men did not ‘snuggle’, but instead I snorted and rubbed my cheek against his hair.  “Yeah, darlin’, that’d be alright.”

“Good, I also desire more snuggle time,” he informed me, rubbing that beard more insistently into me and peppering in a few kisses.

I couldn’t stop my fond smile.  I kissed the top of his head and cradled him closer.

Sam had it all wrong when he said I was ‘kind’, but I could kinda see how I was a bit… indulgent with Cass.  Making him a little happy after all the shit I’d put him through seemed like the least I could do.  So Dean Winchester indulged in a little morning cuddling.  And if Cass stared at me a little too long from a little too close, so be it.  I wasn’t gonna make an issue out of his weird pastimes.

He seemed perfectly content now, staring up at me and occasionally peppering my skin with kinda sexy kisses that didn’t have any intent behind them but still made me shiver.

I shifted a little, feeling his weight pinning me down.  “You’re like a weighted blanket,” I murmured sleepily.

A frown tugged at his lips.  “You hate weighted blankets.”

“Oh, Jesus, do you remember when Sam thought one would be nice gift for me?” I asked, snorting at the memory.  “I woke up in such a panic I shot a hole in the wall.”

“Yes, Dean, I recall the time you almost killed us all because of a weighted blanket.”

“It’s like someone holding you down, man, it’s super freaky.”

Cass rolled his eyes up at me.

“This would have never happened while I was alive, would it?” I mused, cupping his jaw.

“You allowing me to function as your weighted blanket?” he grumbled at me.

“Me liking the weight of you holding me down?” I countered, and then immediately flushed, biting my lip.

Cass’s expression relaxed and he pressed a small kiss to my thumb as it brushed by his lips.  “I’m glad that those fears no longer control you.”

I guided his face closer, needing a quick kiss to settle the weird tension in my belly.

Cass pressed his forehead to mine, gazing at me gently.  “Would you like your coffee now?”

I thought about it for a moment and then nodded.

“Okay,” he said, still lingering, still weighting me down.

I squeezed him tighter, then finally let go, feeling level.

“This time I am definitely going to make the coffee correctly,” he declared as he got up.

“Big words.”

Cass just flashed me a grin before wandering off towards the kitchen, inexplicably humming You’re the Inspiration.

I groaned, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes and trying not to smile.

- 8 -

“I wanna see you completely drunk,” I decided, glaring at Cass over my whiskey glass.

“I don’t get completely drunk, Dean,” he replied from across the kitchen table, looking bored.

“That’s not true,” I said, squinting at him.  “Remember that time back in Blue Earth?”

Cass gave me a very unimpressed look.  “Oh, yes, the time we killed the Whore of Babylon after I realized my father had abandoned us so I proceeded to drink a liquor store.  What a nice memory to reminisce about.”

“The way you said ‘whore’,” I said, cracking up.

“Do I amuse you, Dean?” he asked with a glare, but there was no edge to it.

“Yep.”

“I do not intend to.”

“I don’t believe you,” I said with a grin, reaching across the table to loop our fingers together.

“Most of the things I say that you laugh at were not meant to be jokes.”

“Yeah, but you know what you’re doing.”

Cass got this strange, secretive smile on his face, and started tracing along my fingers.  “I actually haven’t seen you drink in a while.”

“Yeah,” I said, kinda mesmerized by the feel of his skin against mine.  “Just… feelin’ nostalgic or some shit.”

“Or some shit,” Cass repeated with a sage nod.  He continued tracing along my fingers, dipping between each one with such a feather-light touch that it was doing funny things to my stomach.

I took another sip of my whiskey, looking away from him.  “Hey, so on game night-”

“We do not talk about game night, Dean.”

I snorted.  “Okay, well then remember when you were human?  You went from the greatest of all time to a one beer queer.”

“Dean,” he said with that reprimanding tone of voice.

“What?” I asked.  “It’s true.”

“Dean,” he repeated, and now he straight up sounded disappointed.

“What?” I repeated in a tone that was definitely not a whine.  Without really wanting to, I let my eyes meet his again.

“We’ve talked about this,” he told me in his disappointed dad voice.

I gave him a blank look, because I honestly had no idea where we were going here.

“The homophobic language, Dean,” he said with a long-suffering sigh.

“Homo… hey, now, I didn’t-”

“Dean.”

“It’s a saying!”

“Dean.”

“It is,” I said in a tone that was definitely not sulky.

“That’s not the point.”

“Well how can I be homophobic when we’re…” I trailed off, gesturing between us.

Cass proceeded to give me the most patented ‘bitch, please’ look I had ever witnessed in my life, and it left me struggling for words.

“I’m not homophobic!” I finally snapped, irritated.

“I know that,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Okay, then what’s the problem?”

“Did you mean it in a complimentary way?” he asked, still dragging his thumb along the shape of my fingers.

“Huh?” I said.

“When you called me a… ‘one’ ‘beer’ ‘queer’… was it complimentary?”

“Obviously not, it means you suck at drinking.”

“So you used that word to belittle me.”

I stayed quiet, not meeting his gaze.

“Dean?”

“I got it, Cass.”

He picked my hand up off of the table, pressing his lips to the back.

“Sorry,” I finally mumbled.

“It’s okay,” he said, setting my hand back on the table and curling our fingers together.

“I don’t mean anything by it.”

“I know.”

“It’s just… how I’ve always talked.”

“I know.”

“I don’t…” I floundered, before finally repeating, “I don’t mean anything by it.”

“I understand,” Cass said gently.  “I know your heart, Dean, I know how good and pure it is.  But you can’t continue to use the excuse of ignorance when you’ve been educated.”

“Sam’s lectures are not an education,” I muttered.

Cass rolled his eyes at me.

I taught him that, so I couldn’t be too mad.

In the living room, the record player started crackling.

Cass looked into my eyes for a moment, then carefully pulled his fingers away from mine with a lingering brush before going to re-set the record.

The opening strains of Hot Blooded filled the air, and then he was back, taking my hand in his again like he’d never left.

We both looked at each for what was probably too long.

“This song is highly inappropriate,” Cass finally said, breaking up the intensity of the moment.

“Dude.”

“‘Are you old enough?’” he asked, wrinkling his nose.

“It’s a legitimate question.”

“That a grown man would even consider sexual liaisons with a teenage female is so distasteful.”

“Not into age differences, Cass?”

He picked up on what I was implying immediately, leveling me with a glare.  “No,” he said, sounding more petulant than he probably intended.  “What I am saying is that a being that is fully developed mentally and sexually should be interested in other beings that are fully developed mentally and sexually.”

“Whatever you say, cradle robber,” I said with a shrug.

He looked flabbergasted, and it was hilarious.

“I mean, you’re getting all holier-than-thou over like a what, a twenty year age difference?” I asked.  “Our, you know, several millennia age difference didn’t seem like a problem for you when you took me to bed, huh?”

“That’s different,” he protested, turning an interesting shade of red.  “You are fully developed.”

“Really?” I asked.  “‘Dean, you’re behaving like a child,’” I mimicked him.

Cass squinted at me.  “So you’re saying you’re… ‘not’ ‘fully’ ‘developed’?”

“Yep,” I said, doubling down.  “Pedo,” I added for good measure.

He flat-out pouted at me, his bottom lip making a big showy display of sticking out.

“Baby, I’m just teasing you,” I laughed.

“Oh, so I’m the baby here?” he grumbled at me.

“Yeah, definitely,” I said.  “Just call me Daddy.”

“Okay, Daddy,” he deadpanned at me.

It took me a minute, and then I was laughing so hard my entire body was shaking with it.  “Jesus,” I said, wiping the tears from my eyes with my unoccupied hand.  “You know exactly what you’re doing,” I accused him between wheezing laughs, recalling our earlier conversation.

Cass just shrugged, but I could see the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I love you so much,” I said, shaking my head and smiling.

Cass’s entire face lit up.  “I love you, too, Dean.”

Just a few simple words out of my mouth could make him so happy, and yet I was always denying that happiness to him.

Instead of dwelling on that thought, I picked up my whiskey and finished it off.  “Hey, remember that time Ellen and Jo tried to get you drunk?”

“‘Tried’ being the operative word.”

“We should go to Harvelle’s,” I said, getting enthusiastic about the idea.

“I highly doubt there is enough alcohol at the Roadhouse to fully intoxicate an angelic being.”

“You clearly have not been there recently.”

“If you believe there will be sufficient quantities to achieve what you are searching for, then I’m not opposed to giving it a try,” Cass said with a shrug.  “It would be nice to see Jo and Ellen.”

“Alright, it’s a date,” I said, giving his hand a squeeze.

He looked perplexed but pleased, and that was all I needed.

- 9 -

Somehow our date turned into a double date with Sam and Eileen riding in the back of Baby while the sounds of Cass’s carefully curated Songs That Will Be Played in the Car mixtape filled the speakers.

“I feel like you took the theme a little too damn literally,” I muttered as both Sam and Cass enthusiastically sang along to Fine Young Cannibals.

“She drives me crazy!” Sam warbled.

“Oh oh,” Cass replied, completely out of tune.

Eileen and I exchanged long-suffering looks through the mirror.

‘At least you can’t hear them,’ I mouthed at her, and maybe it was in poor taste to be jealous of Eileen’s deafness, but she smirked at me, so I was pretty sure she agreed.

“Oh thank god,” I muttered when the song changed to Queen’s I’m In Love With My Car.

“Dean’s theme song,” Sam said, cracking up.

“Shut up,” I said, giving him a glare in the mirror.

“Yes, that’s why I picked it,” Cass explained cheerfully.

“Don’t contribute to this,” I grumbled, giving him a half-hearted smack in the arm.

Cass gave me the most innocent look he could muster up, which was pretty damn angelic, but I was on to his game by now.

“I’m in love with my car!” Sam sang enthusiastically.  “Got a feel for my automobile!”

“Such a beautiful love song,” Eileen put in.

I shot her a look.

She winked at me.

“I mean, I’m pretty sure Roger Taylor fucked his car, yeah?” Sam mused.

“Sammy, how much did you pre-game before getting into my car?” I asked.

“Just a coupla beers…”

“Uh-huh.”

“Or…” he trailed off, squinting at his fingers as though he were trying to count to a high number.

Eileen shook her head, touching Sam’s arm to get his attention and then signing something to him.

I still sucked at sign language, but the soft smile he gave her assured me whatever she was saying wasn’t for me.

“How does one have sexual relations with a car?” Cass mused.

“Dunno, ask Dean!” Sam declared, breaking away from his lovey-dovey gaze with Eileen to give me a shit-eating grin.

“Dude, like I would defile Baby like that,” I scoffed at him.

“So you do know how the mechanics of it work?” Cass asked, squinting at me.

“You can’t fuck a car, Cass,” I explained patiently.

“Where there’s a will, there’s a way,” Eileen commented.

Sam nodded his agreement.

“What the hell is wrong with all of you?” I asked incredulously.

“Dean called me ‘Baby’ the previous evening,” Cass put in out of nowhere.  “Do you think that I should read something into it?”

Sam sucked his teeth.  “Yeah, shit, Cass, man, that’s no good if he can no longer differentiate between his car and his boyfriend.”

“Excuse me?” I asked, squinting at him through the mirror.  “And also, why are you telling them our personal business?” I chided Cass.

“It’s just Sam and Eileen,” Cass said with a shrug, like it was no big deal.

The obnoxious twosome in the backseat were snickering at our little telenovela, and I realized it really wasn’t a big deal.  So I took one hand off the wheel to flip them off, then rested it between the seats and wiggled my fingers until Cass took the hint and laced his fingers with mine.

“Aw,” Eileen couldn’t help but utter.

I winked at her.

She gave me a soft, knowing smile.

I rolled my eyes, but I was smiling, too.

Then Prince’s Little Red Corvette came on, and my stupid tipsy brother and my annoying angel boyfriend started singing as loudly as they could, and it just felt like the Impala was filled with… joy.

I held Cass’s hand tighter, and maybe I sang along, too.

- 10 -

The lights were all blazing when we pulled up to the Roadhouse.

“Full house,” Sam commented as he pushed his way out of the backseat.

I hesitated.

Cass gave me a head tilt.

“You ready to get drunk?” I asked, forcing a smile.

He stared at me.

“Come on,” I said, letting go of his hand and opening the door.

He followed me inside.

Sam and Eileen were already filling a couple of pitchers of beer at the bar.  The Roadhouse tended to be self-serve, as Ellen and Bill’s idea of heaven apparently wasn’t serving a bunch of old hunters drinks for the rest of eternity.

I looked around for the Harvelles, spotting them holding court at a corner table.

“Dean,” Bill said, sticking his hand out towards me.

“Bill,” I said, shaking it.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Ellen hummed, getting up from her seat to wrap me in a hug.

“Hi, Ellen.”

“Haven’t seen ya in a while.”

“Yeah, been kinda busy at home,” I said with a shrug.

Ellen arched an eyebrow at me, then turned to Cass, wrapping him in a hug.

Cass had gotten very good at returning hugs.  “It’s good to see you, Ellen,” he said warmly.

“So what brings the Winchesters here tonight?” she asked.

“We’re gonna get Cass drunk,” I informed her.

“Good luck with that,” Ellen said with a snort.  “Pretty sure there isn’t enough booze in heaven to get that one drunk.”

“Your previous attempt was valiant,” Cass offered.  “Dean wishes to re-create it, but slightly more effectively.”

“Well, Jo’s got some hard stuff stashed away in the back if you can drag her away from her game,” she said, nodding her head towards the back of the bar where the pool table was.

“I will keep you updated,” I said, and Ellen grinned at me as I took my leave.

Jo was lining up a shot, bent over the table with one eye closed.

“Don’t miss!” I yelled cheerfully as she moved the cue.

The cue ball clacked into the 5 ball, sending it rolling into the pocket.

“I never do,” she said, standing up slowly and flipping her long hair over her shoulder.

Had Jo always looked so…

I shook it off, offering her an easy smile.  “Wanna put your money where your mouth is?”

“Busy,” she replied, nodding her head towards the little fanclub of hunters who were waiting by the pool table to have their asses handed to them.

“Busy, sure.”

Jo scoffed at me and lined up her next shot, sinking it easily.  “If you just came over here to annoy me…”

“We’re gonna get Cass smashed,” I explained.

“Oh?” she asked, looking intrigued.  “Is that even possible?”

“Well, this one time at game night-” I began.

Cass shot a glare at me, making me grin.

“I’ve got some 190-proof Everclear in the back,” Jo said, waggling her eyebrows.

“So it’ll be like a shitty 90’s house party…” I reminisced.

“You are so old.”

I gaped at her, offended.

“Are you two done flirting?” Cass asked, squinting at me.

“We’re not-” we both started and stopped at the same time.

“I am going to join Sam now,” he stated, taking his leave.

Jo straightened up, looking between me and Cass’s retreating back.  “I’ll bring some shots over after I finish this game.”

I gave her a little nod of acknowledgement, already following after Cass.

“Dean Winchester!”

Apparently we were at Cheers.

“Hey, you old son of a bitch,” I said, pausing to exchange pleasantries with Caleb, followed by several other hunters who called out to me before finally making my way over to the table where Sam and Cass were sitting.

“You’re popular,” Sam commented, handing me a beer.

“Not as popular as your wife,” I said, nodding over to the bar where Eileen was surrounded by other hunters.

“Yeah,” Sam said, smiling fondly.

I rolled my eyes.

Cass rested his hand on my knee as he leaned into the arm I’d settled around his chair.

I startled, having not even realized I’d put it there.

He turned to me with a frown.  “Is this… okay?” he asked, quietly enough so only I could hear him over the din of the bar.

I hesitated, but then forced a smile.  “Yeah, of course.”

“Dean.”

“Of course,” I repeated with more sincerity.  “I’m just… it’s new.”

“You don’t have to push yourself.”

“I wanna push myself.”

Cass huffed out a smile, his eyes crinkling and his nose scrunching up.

I felt myself smiling, too, briefly reaching up to cradle his cheek in my hand before going back to my beer.

Sam was giving me a look, so I chose to ignore him.

“You boys are in luck,” Jo said, bustling over to the table with a stack of glasses and some bottles tucked under her arm.  She lined up the shot glasses on the table, then started pouring from one of the bottles.  “This is the warm-up.”

“Jack Daniels?” I asked, picking up a shot and giving it a whiff.

“Coy Hill High Proof,” she said, pushing a shot to Sam, taking one for herself, and leaving the other five for Cass.  “About 140 proof, give or take.”

“Awesome,” I said.  “Down the hatch.”

Sam, Jo, and I all downed our shots.

Cass eyed us like he was cataloging something in his weird angel brain.

“Ya gotta drink ’em to get drunk,” I explained.

Cass gave me his patented ‘bitch, please’ look and proceeded to down the five shots in rapid succession.

We all cheered.

“Feeling anything?” Jo asked as she refilled the glasses.

“I am feeling like whiskey tastes like watery grain molecules and wondering why humans subject themselves to this nonsense,” Cass said with a shrug before downing the next five shots.

Jo cracked up and filled the glasses up again.

Eventually Eileen wandered back over to the table and we somehow ended up playing Quarters, everyone making Cass take a shot of Everclear every time they got the quarter in the cup.

This was all fine and good until it was Cass’s turn.  He never missed.

“Cass ish dishqualified,” Sam declared after one penalty drink too many.

“For what reason?” Cass asked, wrinkling his nose.

“For cheating,” he said solemnly.

“I am no cheater.”

“Using your angel mojo is totally cheating,” I said, grinning at him.

“How is that cheating?  It is a part of me.”

“Cheater,” Eileen put in.

“Dirty, dirty cheater,” Jo agreed.

“Filthy,” I smirked at him.

Cass glared at me, ignoring the rest of the rabble-rousers.  “I do not cheat.”

“Drink!” Eileen declared, pushing the bottle of Everclear over to him.

“Why do I have to drink?” Cass asked incredulously, finally looking away from me and over at Eileen.

“Drink!” she repeated.

“Drink!  Drink!  Drink!” Jo and Sam chanted.

“These are not the rules that we agreed to,” Cass grumbled, sullenly snatching the bottle and chugging.

We all erupted into cheers.

Cass finished the bottle and slammed it on the table.  “You are all behaving like children.”

I leaned in closer, letting my lips brush against his ear.  “Sorry, daddy, we’ll be good.”

Cass breathed out slowly, radiating pissed-off energy, but when he turned to meet my gaze, his look was pure sex.

I bit my lip, grinning at him and trying not to turn completely red.

He turned his face a bit more towards me so Eileen couldn’t read his lips as he mouthed, ‘the things I am going to do to you when we get home.’

The trying not to turn completely red thing went out the window, but it wasn’t so bad, being the recipient of the pure desire burning in Cass’s eyes.  “Babe, I think you might be a little drunk,” I pointed out, trying to laugh it off.

“No,” he said dismissively.  “You might be a little drunk.”

“I’m not… okay, yeah, maybe a little,” I agreed after a little self-reflection.  I was feeling loose and warm in a way that alcohol hadn’t really made me feel in years.

“Alright, new game,” Jo said, passing Cass an unopened bottle of absinthe.  “And if you don’t start dancing on the tables after this, I’m getting the rubbing alcohol from the first aid kit.”

“Is that… safe?” Sam asked, looking perplexed.

“I am an angel of the Lord, Sam, your disinfectant products cannot harm me,” Cass explained.

“Oh, well then, bring on the isoproperr uh isopropro… rubbing alcohol,” he finally decided.

“After this game,” Jo said.  “So let’s play Never Have I Ever, and I’ll start.  Never have I ever… uh… had wings.”

“Am I expected to drink now?” Cass asked.

“Well, if you’ve ever had wings, then yep,” Jo said.

“Does it count if an angel was possessing your body?” Sam asked, scratching his head.

Jo turned to Eileen.

“Absolutely,” Eileen said.

Sam and I both gave her a look and took a drink from our beers.

“You’re next, Eileen,” Jo said, nodding towards her.

“Never have I ever been to Purgatory,” she said.

“We’re trying to get Cass drunk here,” I complained, taking a drink along with Sam and Cass.

“We can’t help it if you two do a lot of stupid things,” Jo pointed out.

“How is being possessed by an angel or going to purgatory us doing stupid things?” I demanded.

��Knowing you two, bad choices,” Jo said.

“Co-dependency,” Eileen added.

“Fuck you both very much,” I grumbled.  “Sammy, show them how it’s done.”

Sam grinned, his eyes drooping like he was about to fall asleep.  “Never have I ever been a girl.”

Eileen and Jo rolled their eyes and took a drink, followed by Cass.

Jo’s look turned to intrigued.

“I have occupied female vessels,” he explained to her.

“Wait, wait,” she said suddenly.  “Sam was totally possessed by Meg, so wouldn’t that make him a girl?”

“I was still in my body,” Sam protested.

“Yeah, but there was a girl in your body.”

“I would hardly call Meg a ‘girl’,” Cass mused.

“Okay, this is hurting my brain,” I complained.  “Though, yes, Samantha definitely-”

Cass stopped me from continuing by covering my mouth with his hand.

“Thank you, Castiel,” Jo said with a sigh.

“What?” I protested when I was free to speak again.

“No one wants to hear your misogynistic nonsense,” she said.

“How am I-”

Cass covered my mouth again.

I glared at him.

“Trust me, Dean, I’m helping you,” he informed me.  “Now, it is your turn.”

I made a face at him and then thought about it for a while.  “Never have I ever willingly dressed like a tax accountant for years.”

“Define ‘tax accountant’,” Cass said, gazing steadily into my eyes.

“Just drink, already, J.P. Morgan,” I replied, smirking.

He looked very unimpressed with my cleverness as he took a long swig of absinthe.  He set the bottle down, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and declared, “it appears to be my turn.”

“Oh, this should be good,” I said, rolling my eyes.  Cass never understood how these things worked.

Except when he did.

“Never have I ever worn women’s pink satin panties,” he said, toying with the bottle in his hand and not even looking at me.

“You son of a bitch.”

Jo stopped with her beer halfway to her lips and burst out laughing.

Sam was looking at me like I was an alien.

Eileen eyed me up and down in a way that was very confusing.

“Dean?” Cass prodded.  “Aren’t you going to take a drink?”

“Goddamn traitorous fucking angels,” I muttered before taking a long drink and refusing to make eye contact with anyone.

Cass squeezed my knee gently under the table.

I could suddenly sense how insecure he felt, afraid that he’d gone too far.

Lucky for him, I was buzzed enough not to actually be angry about him revealing one of my deepest, darkest secrets.

“Nicely played, angel,” I conceded, letting my arm slide from the back of the chair to around his shoulders, pulling him a little closer.

The tension eased from him immediately, and he turned to give me a small, pleased smile.

“You’re gonna pay for that later, though,” I threatened.

“Oh?” he asked, his head tilting to the side but oozing smugness.

“Little shit,” I grumbled at him, then leaned in close to press a quick kiss to his mouth.

“Never have I ever…” Jo’s voice suddenly cut in to our little moment.  “…made a complete and utter spectacle of myself at the Roadhouse being all lovey-dovey with my boyfriend.”

Sam snorted.

I was mortified, pulling away from Cass.  Maybe I’d kinda sorta forgotten that we were in public.

Cass for his part just rolled his eyes and drank the rest of his bottle.

“You gotta drink, Dean,” Eileen pointed out.

I gave her a very sullen look and drank my beer, setting it down on the table with a little more force than necessary.  “We need some good music,” I decided, standing up abruptly and moving off towards the jukebox.

It felt like everyone in the bar was staring at me as I went.

After flipping through all the songs, Beautiful Loser seemed like the correct choice.

#isola cass & dean's infinite playlist #fanfiction #you don't just stealth cuddle someone jesus

[buggiebite]

Everlark never fails to amaze me—even if this isn’t canon, it might as well be. Peeta reopening the bakery after the war and Katniss there to help him (hopefully they’re dating or married). Here is a one-shot I thought of while making this, enjoy! ⬇️

———

Katniss had never been much of an artist. She could hunt, she could win two Hunger Games and survive a war: but she couldn’t paint to save her life.

A new found respect was mentally noted to Peeta Mellark, of course, Katniss didn’t tell him how tired her arms had grown and how her sweat was beginning to build up. However, she’d moan or let out an exasperated huff every once in a while; Peeta would turn around from his place on the ladder and watch her for a few seconds.

What he saw was far from his own work. Her wall had uneven amounts of lilac paint, marks from where she’d moved the paint roller where either too thin or dripping wet. Thankfully there was a paper sheet coating the wood flooring because if not Peeta feared he would have to install it all over again.

Peeta stepped down from the ladder and crossed the room to her wall, “I can see why you never liked art class.” He smirked and touched a lump of almost dried paint.

“Like you’re so perfect. You’ve done this for years.” Katniss griped. She turned her head to the beating sun outside, it would be a great day to hunt squirrels, instead she was painting.

“At least I don’t hold it upside down.”

Katniss looked at how she held the brush, the inside of her palm faced towards her as the tube was located below. Peeta chuckled and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

Her embarrassment wasn’t something to be toyed with; she turned around and—still holding it wrong—pressed the roller into Peeta’s pants. Lilac purple stained the fabric of his khakis.

Peeta looked down at his opponent, then in a quick movement, grabbed the rolling tray in his hand and splattered it onto her shirt.

“Peeta Mellark!” She screamed.

“You started it!” His voice mimicked one of a child, he groped a paintbrush and held it out like a weapon.

The next few minutes were filled with a delightful shrill, billows of laughter could be heard from town square. But when the noises went silent inside the soon-to-be-bakery, outsiders believed that whatever was happening had stopped.

Yet the two weren’t done at all. In fact, they had only just begun.

———

#that one shot sucks more than my daddy issues #ironically thg is on tv rn #it’s been so looooong #everlark #everlark fanart #fanart #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #hunger games #peeta #katniss #suzanne collins #onshots

[stripper-patrick]

Next Lifetime 💫Michael B. Jordan pt 1.

Warnings: smut, fluff, kids, sneaky link turned into family, angst, crying, 18+, NSFW gifs, series

Tags: @rebellious-desires @mrsbanreswillseeyou @eclecticblkgirl @designerwriterchic @bvssmob

Relationship: Michael B. Jordan x black plus sized reader (Azina/Z)

<4 years ago>

I’m throwing my ass back to the music just enjoying myself during this time. I’ve had at least 4 shots and I’m feeling all of them.

I feel someone press up behind me and it’s my best friend Michael whose clearly off the Henny just as much as I am. He grinds against me and as I’m working my hips I feel his dick stiffen. A boldness surged through me, or maybe that’s the liquor, and I stand up turning to him sealing a kiss. I’ve always wanted him no doubt I just never knew how to tell him. I guess being drunk is the best way. His hands grab at my waist then snake to my ass. His sweet Hennessy flavored lips are getting me even more drunk but with lust this time. The glisten of his plump lips being out the diamonds in his grill set plastered perfectly on his teeth.

“Let’s go to my house” I nod agreeing with his request and he grabs my hand leading me outside. He hails down a cab and opens the door letting me get on first. He smacks my butt on the way in and I giggle.

“322 Barron Street please” it’s about a 15 minute ride from here.

The driver begins his route and Michael starts kissing my neck and his hand slips down my shorts. My panties are beyond soaked and now he’s rubbing my clit making me whine.

His hand wraps around my throat whispering on my ear “stay quiet ma” he rubs again and as soon as the driver turns the corner into Michael’s loft I’m bussing all over his fingers biting the bottom of my lip trying to stay quiet.

He wraps his hand around my mouth flicking my clit faster making me shake harder. He pulls out his coated fingers placing them in my mouth. I suck off my own sweet juices and he grabs my by the throat kissing me tasting myself off my tongue. The driver clears his throat and we stop giggling and getting out. He tips the driver and walks past me opening the door. As soon as he gets the door open my pants are already unbuckled and halfway off.

“Damn hold on mamas” he slurs. We finally make it up to his nicely decorated bedroom and I’m pushed backwards flying back first on the bed. Michael comes on top of me and I flip us over grinding down on his already rock hard dick. He grabs a handful of behind moaning in my mouth. I move down to his neck where I kiss it sloppily. We stop kissing for a moment and I remove my shirt while he does the same. I move down pulling down his boxers and pants in one motion wasting no time swirling my tongue on the tip of his leaking dick. A low moan fills the room and I wrap my lips around the entire tip and push my head down letting it hit the back of my throat. I let it get wet then go back up to sucking on the tip while my right hand jerks the base and my left hand cups his balls. I come off with a string of saliva and I use my palm to rub on the top directly allowing the slick saliva to give him pleasure. His stomach caves and a loud moan erupts from Michael as he looks down holding vicious eye contact with me.

“Fuck Z” I continue going to town until he grabs me by the throat pulling me up to his mouth. Michael’s tongue roams my mouth fighting for dominance as he pulls me on top of him. I grab his throbbing dick pushing it inside of my aching pussy feeling him expand my walls gracefully. He leans back laying his head on the pillow as I gasp sinking down on him until our hips meet. I place my hands on his chest and sit on my feet rocking my hips along his shaft. His eyes flutter shut as I work my magic swirling my hips in a sloppy drunken circle. He bites his lip while one hand grabs the back of my head pulling my sweaty forehead to his. The other hand grabs a handful of my ass pulling me down. His dick fills my pussy completely making me gasp. Without missing a second Keith grabs both sides of my head keeping deadly eye contact with me and thrusts his hips beating my pussy from below. I let out a mewl holding his biceps while digging my acrylics into them. I bite my lip as he obliterates hot spots I didn’t even know were there.

My entire body feels like it’s on fire as after he thrusts he gives it aches and caves for more. “You like that? You like being daddy’s lil bitch” he moans pounding me out. Michael moves his hands wrapping his hand around my throat pulling me further and growling in my ear. I try to push away as the pleasure is starting to overwhelm me and he holds me by my hips keeping me right where he wants me. The only that can be heard in the room is the slushing sound of my wetness, the clapping of my ass and his balls slapping against my ass. My legs shake already as he continues. My pussy soaks everything underneath me as I let out a struggled moan cumming harder than I’ve ever came with any other man before. Michael pulls out pushing me up onto his face while jerking himself off in the process. He wraps his hands around my hips tasting the beautiful mess he made. My body jerks and my hand instinctively moves to his head as I roll my body on his tongue. He moans at my taste sucking and lapping on my clit. I smile getting off his face and back on his dick bucking my hips wildly. Michael guides my hips keeping himself as deep as possible. He begins thrusting up again at a fast pace making my eyes roll to the back of my head. He growls again giving me a fair warning that he’s about to cum. Without thinking I scream “cum inside this pussy daddy”

I’m aching from his blows. I sit up and keep bouncing at the same pace as he holds my hips tensing up. His seed spills inside of me and I watch his arch his back when I clench my pussy creating a suction. He moans pressing into my hips more.

Michael sits up kissing me and giving me a hard spank to my right ass cheek. His dick throbs inside of me as our mixtures leaks out dripping past his balls and onto the sheets. Drunkenly I lay on top of him giving him lazy kisses. Time and liquor consumes us and before I know it we’re both asleep in each other’s arms.

…

I wake up with a headache the size of the room. I feel like if I move too fast I’ll throw up. I feel someone warmth next to me and I pause. Who did I go home with last night? What happened? I’m aching between my legs but my conscience tells me not to be scared. I look behind me seeing Michael fast asleep. I sigh in comfort knowing I’m safe. He stirs in his sleep opening his eyes and he sees me. “Morning”

“Morning” I move my legs and notice they’re weak. I pull back the covers and we’re both completely naked. Oh shit. I jump up to the best of my ability and he sits up too

“Mike what did we do last night”

“Well using my context clues we had sex” he says rubbing his eyes

“Michael do you not see an issue with that? You have a girlfriend”

“I know but I mean if I’m being honest I’ve always had feelings for you Z and clearly you feel the same way” he states. I grab my underwear shaking my head.

“Mike that’s not the point you knew we shouldn’t have acted on it especially since you’re in a relationship. This could absolutely ruin our friendship. Lemme ask you this what if we go get together and break up then what you know I’m not friends with my exes. If you can be cool with your ex y’all were never in love or still are in love. There’s no in between” he looks at me with his head hanging low. He knows exactly where I’m coming from. “I’m not tryna lose you as a person in general” Mike goes in the bathroom brushing his teeth and peeing.

I collect my clothes putting them back on and Mike throws on some basketball shorts and a t-shirt he grabs some slides and his car keys . Luckily my car is already at home since Michael and his girl Lori picked me up.

“Z I’m sorry. I know things went too far but I’m glad we at least know how we feel about each other” he says “and I don’t regret what happened last night” I nod and get in his car. He gets in the drivers seat taking off and taking me home.

…..

Lori decided to have a pool party today to celebrate Mike for his birthday. Of course he invited me and being his best friend I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Plus it’s at his new house and I’ve never seen it before. Granite we haven’t talked much or seen each other at all since our ordeal a couple weeks ago. In fact this is the first time I’ve actually seen him since that day.

I walk through their beautiful house with a bottle of champagne in my hand. I see Lori in the kitchen. Honestly me and her have never really been that close. I never really cared for her but I was always cordial with her. “Hey Lori I brought this for y’all” she looks at me taking the champagne without even saying thank you. Bougie bitch. Don’t get me wrong I’m bougie too but best believe I’m as humble and as thankful as they come. I guess that’s why me and Mike are best friends. We’re the same.

I roll my eyes and my heels click outside where I see a bunch of people lounging in the pool and on the sides with drinks in their hand. My other best friend Lamia greets me with open arms. Her perfume makes me nauseous and dizzy “Hey girl” she smiles

“Hey” I say trying to hold my breakfast down.

“Mike is over there. Have you and him talked since then?” As soon as I got home that day I got ready for work and told Lamia what happened. I shrug my shoulders as an answer.

“Only small talk and I’ve low key been trying to avoid him just so the awkward tension doesn’t arise” I say

“Makes sense” Michael begins walking over and I stride a little further away until he catches me.

“Hey ladies” he hugs lamia and I’m next. I smell his cologne and melt. “you want a drink Z” I shake my head

“I don’t feel too hot right now so I’ll stick with water for the day” he nods eyes lingering on me for longer than a second. Lori comes out running his bare back and our contact is broken. While Lori begins talking to him I slip away downing the rest of my water. The nausea is finally gone and I sit on the lounge chair going on my phone. I put on my sunglasses shielding my eyes.

While I’m relaxing in the sun I notice Michael keeps staring at me. I see the small bulge in his shorts and I can’t help but bite my lip, mouth water at the taste of his dick down my throat.

A mid-height dark skin man starts walking my way and I see he has a pearly white smile similar to Michael’s. I get a better glimpse of his face. His name is Jayson. I’ve heard about him before. I heard he’s a player and he sleeps with anything that moves.

He sits next to my feet flashing his smile at me. I sit up with a small smile on my face. “Hey I’m Jayson Mikes friend”

“Yea I know. I’m Z”

“What’s that short for”

“Azina” he smiles scooting closer. I glance up seeing Mikes eyes never leaving me.

“That’s beautiful. Fitting for a beautiful woman” he bites his lip. I take a deep breath and take my sunglasses off. I stare directly into Michael’s eyes and he’s fuming. Dimples are prominent in his cheeks, nose flared, biceps flexed from how tense he is. Jayson moves even closer and that’s when Michael comes over.

“Hey Jay what y’all talking about?” He interjects with his nose held high. A small rage burns in my stomach at how he completely ruined my chance at something. Even if I was just playing Jaysons game right back at him.

“Her name. It’s pretty”

“Oh yea the two ‘A’s in her name stands for aggravated assault. She’s crazy man she beat niggas” he laughs. He’s not fully wrong “but she’s my kinda crazy. Speaking of Azina can I speak to you privately please? Jay you don’t mind right? Course not be right back” before I even have a chance to protest he grabs my wrist and my panties are soaked by the time we enter the glass double doors of his house that Lori happens to be staying in. Just hearing him call my name rather than my nickname has me wanting to be on my knees on this cold marble floor.

“What the hell is your issue?” I ask yanking my arm away. He grabs me again taking me upstairs through the neatly decorated white hallway. We get into his gold coated marble bathroom where he locks the door. I lean against the counter and he folds his arms “why have you been avoiding me”

“I-“

“And don’t lie to me” he asserts his dominance making my clit throb. Silence and heavy thick sexual tension fill the air and I look down at my long pink acrylic nails. He steps closer sealing any space between me and him. His large hand wraps around my throat making me bite my lip “you like seeing me get all jealous? Shit makes you wet mama?”

“Yes” I whimper. And just like that I’m putty in his hands. He pulls me up to his plump lips placing a wet kiss on them. Michael pulls off my duster of a swimsuit coverup. His large hands play with my breasts and my hand moved to his hard on. He’s rock solid now. His hand moves from my breast to my bikini bottoms rubbing my clit. My hips hunk and my hands move to his bicep as his plump lips kiss my neck. My body jerks as his thick fingers slide into my hole with ease. He begins pressing my g-spot like a button making me lose my breath. Michael moves up to my ear whispering “you’re mine”

He pulls his fingers out and sucks them dry turning me around some I’m facing the huge mirror above the sink. I grab the ledge bracing myself as he rolls my bottoms down spanking me in the process. I spread my cheeks feel his warm hard dick press inside of me. He fills me up and holds my hips bouncing me back to meet his thrusts. His breaths become heavy and ragged and my mouth drops open but nothing comes out.

Michael is pressing right on my g-spot making me lose my breath. “Daddy” I whimper.

“That’s my girl take all this shit. You wanna flirt with other niggas ima show you who you belong to” he wraps his hand around my throat quickening his pace. My eyes squeeze shut and my moans get louder. The sounds of our moans and my ass clapping fills the room but we have to keep it quiet so no one comes up here and finds us.

“You like when daddy fill you up bitch?”

“Yes I love it so much” my legs begin shaking as my orgasm approaches fast like a train. He gets close to my ear still pounding me out against the marble counter.

“Look at me when I make you cum” I bite my lip and his grip tightens on my neck. I open my eyes to the best of my ability as my entire body seizes in front of him. My body is on fire and he chuckles biting his lip “you look so fucking pretty taking all this dick like a good little whore”

I whimper jerking around and he pulls out watching my body tense up and convulse. He smacks my already shaking ass. Michael turns me around again putting me on the counter and he gets on one knee licking my pussy. He slurps you the mess he made moaning at the taste. I watch as he pulls my pussy lips back making sure to get as much of my clit as possible. My body writhes from still being sensitive and I grab the back of his head pushing him further in me. I pull off my bikini top rubbing my nipples while grinding on his face. My head falls back and he gives small licks making me even crazier than before. Michael comes up kissing my lips. I can taste myself on his tongue. He taps his dick on my clit before inserting himself again. I wrap my arms around his shoulders as he wastes no time taking me to Poundtown.

His short nails claw down my back and he buries his head in my neck. “That’s it daddy right there” my nails take through his short waves as his hips ripple through me. My moans uncontrollably get louder and he covers my mouth pounding me harder “can’t scream now can you baby?” I whimper eyes rolling to the back of my head as I squirt on his dick “that’s what I want fuck I’m bout to cum” his growls get louder and he kisses me moaning. His body shakes when he leaks inside of me. My nails scrape down his back and he empties his load inside of me.

He stays inside of me staring deep into my eyes. I can’t help this feeling anymore but I need to for the sake of our friendship. Michael’s catches me in a kiss and for a split second I ignore my feelings and kiss him back. As if he were really mine. That thought stops me from going any further “I’m sorry for avoiding you”

“I understand mamas” he kisses me again and pull out grabbing a towel he wipes off my pussy and leans down placing a kiss on my clit making me gasp. I chuckle getting off the counter with his help. My legs shake and I laugh. I grab my clothes putting them back on and making sure I look like I did before I came up here.

“Mike” I hear Lori call from downstairs. To the best of my ability I walk to the door but before I open it Michael grabs my arm kissing me again. This one was more passion than lust. I smile pulling away and open the door. To see Lori coming in. I turn around and turn him around quickly “so this is the master bathroom?” I look at him

“Yea it’s marble counters and the gold trim it’s my favorite and there’s the waterfall shower in there” we walk towards the shower acting like he was explaining me the layout of the bathroom the whole time. I hear loris heels click in the bathroom “baby the boys are looking for you at the pool” he turns around nodding

“Ard come on Z” We walk past Lori and her eyes linger on us.

Me and Mike walk outside and he can’t stop staring at me. He stands at the front of the bar with a microphone “I wanna thank every one for coming out. I wanna thank Lori for putting this together couldn’t have done this without you babe” that word ‘babe’ leaves a stinging mark on my heart as Lori steps up beside her man. She kisses him and then looks at me. I walk backwards dipping out from the crowd. I go inside and grab the champagne I brought. This bottle wasn’t cheap so if they won’t drink it I will. I pour myself a glass and start sipping it. Michael comes in and once again it’s just us alone.

“I’m sorry”

“Don’t be sorry. Look Michael as much as we both want it us being together might never happen simply because you and Lori are a thing and y’all are basically destined for marriage”

“Now you know I’ve been about you and only you for a while”

“I can’t tell cause I’m still single and you’re in a relationship” I sigh “I’m leaving this house is beautiful but you need to figure out what you really want” I extend my arms and give him a hug. He plants a kiss on my neck Mumbling the words I’m sorry again.

I grab my champagne and leave the house with a heavy heart and a cloudy mind. That nauseous feeling is back.

#smut #fluff #series #michael b jordan x reader #michael b jordan smut #michael b jordan #filth

[vannybarber]

Eyes Forward

Summary: Let's face it, long haired Chris is irresistible. So you take your chances.

Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: SMUT, oral (f to m), handjob, rimming (f to m), LONG HAIRED CHRIS, fluff 🥺 this gif can absorb me 🥵.

Watching the two beautiful brown skinned goddesses grind and makeout on the screen, you couldn't help the puddle forming in your panties. This wasn't the first time you and your buddy Christopher have watched explict films together. In fact, it was one of you guys' favorites genres.

You and Chris had found a show called 'The Wire', which has a 9.3 rating on IMDB. A rating that high on such a stingy app had to be good. A sex scene between the two women had arrived, which threw you both off because of how unfiltered it was. But you weren't complaining. Neither was Chris.

He was fixated on the TV, watching the view before him, a boner visibly formed through his grey sweats. Trying to adjust himself, he fails as he gets distracted again by the close up of them.

Getting a sudden burst of bravery, you maneuver your left hand onto his bulge and rub it in a slow motion. He whips his head at you, puzzled, but somehow absentmindedly grinding himself onto your hand.

You put your index finger to your mouth and point back to the screen with a small smirk. He follows your silent orders without protest. It's not like he could form words at the moment anyway.

The scene gets more intense as the woman straddling Sonja, the actress, breasts show on the screen and she takes them both in her mouth. Chris sucks in a breath, which is quickly covered with a cough as you add pressure to his covered length. You let a giggle escape from your pressed lips.

You turn your body so your front is fully facing his right side and switch hands, laying your right one back on his pants and your left around his neck.

"Y/N..", he says through gritted teeth.

"Shh and keep your eyes foward." You nibble on his ear and squeeze him to affirm your instructions. Moving your lips down to his neck, planting long but soft kisses, he groans, thrusting himself up in your grip. Getting at his hints, you push your hand inside his pants and slowly smooth a soft but firm way down his shaft. It almost shocked you how long it took your fingertips to reach the head.

You look up at Chris and his eyes are slowly closing so you squeeze him in your hand. He shoots his eyes open and looks at you.

"Do not close your eyes. Keep them open and watch the TV" you command in a rather stern voice. "Don't they look amazing?" He nods his head in agreement.

"The one with the short hair has beautiful tits." You smile because he's absolutely right.

"Yes, she does. Look at the way she's sucking them." As you comment on the scene, you rub your hand up and down his cock as much as possible, but grow frustrated with the restriction of his clothes. "Take your pants off."

He moves to shove his jeans down and kicks his feet out the holes. Getting a better view, he is well endowed. You take both hands and stroke him. He can't help but watch, but the scene is over so you don't scold him.

"You like that baby?" You coax him, moving a little faster. You both make eye contact and he breathlessly lets out a 'yes'. You bit your lip and smile. Catching him off guard, you dip your head down and take him in your mouth.

He maneuvers his right hand onto your ass, giving it a squeeze. You moan around him, making him groan and thrust up into your mouth. Suddenly you pull back. He quickly gets worried.

"What's wrong?" You cup his cheek.

"Oh nothing. As much as I love you feeling on my ass, I want you to see me sucking your cock."

With that, you slide off the couch and on your knees in between his legs. He sighs, appeased and adjusting himself so he could get the perfect view.

"Hope you weren't worried there." You joke, smiling and winking at him. He grins, shaking his head. He's still rock solid and throbbing when you grab his cock again and sliding your mouth back on it.

After bobbing your head up and down for some time, you take him out and push his legs further out to drag your tounge from the very bottom, swirling around his tight hole. You let out a hot breath over it, resulting in him letting out a small whimper while you pump him faster.

You move back up, tongue still on him and lick up his wide shaft and take him back in your mouth, finishing him off. A few more seconds and you feel him twitch.

"Fuck, I'm 'bout to cum" he groans out. Warm shots of his seed score in your throat and slide down your tongue. Satisfied, you suck up and off him, making sure you collect every drop. You open your mouth, and show him the mess he made in you. He nods with approval.

"Swallow."

You gulp down all the sweet content and smile at him. Getting off your knees, you strip from your clothes, pussy aching from the need to have him inside you. He watches as you remove everything, all your forbidden parts coming into view.

"Like whatcha see, Evans?" You smirk at him.

"Yeah, but I'd like it better if it was inside it." He doesn't have to say any more. You climb on his lap and pull his shirt over his head, ginger locks falling back into place.

"Ya know, I'm really loving this look. You should keep your hair like this." You comb your fingers through his silky hair, mesmerized with it.

"If it makes you do shit like this, I'm just might." He traces his fingers on your thighs and moves them up your hips and on your back, pushing you towards him. Your lips plant on his, moving in perfect motion, not missing one beat.

Mouths staying connected, you grab his cock and meet it with your entrance and sink down slowly to feel it stretch every wall. You suck in a breath and moan, fully seated on him. After getting comfortable, you pull away and start moving on him. Looking in his eyes, you search for his breaking point. The move that's gonna do it for him.

"You like that baby? You like when I bounce on your cock?" His eyes shift almost at your verbal attack. He slaps your ass in response but also a warning. You just grin. It's working.

"Gotdamn Y/N, you're so fucking tight." His face crunches up, head thrown to the cushion of the couch. You squeeze him as a thanks. Workouts pay off.

"A tight, wet pussy and a big ole cock, what'd you expect?" You kind of laugh as you move faster on him. You could feel him touching every spot inside you, that sharp ping of pleasure hitting you everytime you slide back up.

"Fuck, daddy you're gonna make me cum," you whine out, not being able to handle the feeling, like you asserted before. You flatten your palms on his shoulders and try to bounce as fast as you can, but the ecstasy is weakening your ability. Chris takes notice and quickly solves the issue.

Pushing you towards him, he adjusts your knees up a little closer to his hips and grips your ass and starts fucking into you. You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and drop your head down beside his.

"Mmm Chris that feels so," you let out a whimper when he hits your spot 2 thrusts in a row, "so good."

"Mhm you thought you were the one in control, didn't you sweetheart?" The sound of your ass hitting his thighs accelerates your want to cum. You need it so bad.

"Shoving your hand down my pants, tryna seduce me, but who's the one getting her pretty little hole fucked??" At every word, a thrust gets harder and your mind goes even more blank.

You can't even form words, only adorable tiny noises and moans leaving your vocal box. He grips your waist roughly, not satisfied with your answer.

"You better fucking answer me or I'll stop right now and make you suck me off again and this sweet little pussy won't get to cum." He slaps your sore pussy and you inhale a single, but deadly breath.

"I am! I'm getting my little h-hole fucked," you scream. It was humiliating, but that's what made it more arousing. You tried to be in control, but failing effortlessly once he was deep inside you.

"Good baby. Daddy's fucking this hole way better than anyone else could, so it's only fair that it belong to me now, right?" He looks up at you and grabs your face to look him in the eyes. "This pussy is mine, yeah?"

At this point, fuck it.

"Yes, Daddy my hole belongs to you! All my holes are yours." You could feel that familiar pressure rising in the pit of your stomach as he fucks up in it. You grow excited, but more determined to make it last.

"I'm gonna cum," you moan as he lets your face go, but not breaking eye contact. "Make me cum, Daddy. I wanna cum all over your cock. I want it so bad. More than anything!"

"Just let go, baby. Let go for Daddy." His voice is soft and encouraging. You do as he says and let your orgasm take over your body. He could feel your hot cum spreading all over the head of his cock.

In retaliation, he shortly follows, filling your pussy to the brim, quite more than he ever has before.

"I feel so full." You sigh, content and fulfilled. A dopey smile is on your face and your body is limp. He rubs your back and plants kisses on the side of your face and on your shoulder blade.

"I'm gonna go give you a bath. Alright, bear?" He turns his head, waiting for you to look at him and give the 'ok'. You lift your head.

"Can we just stay here for a little bit longer please?" He kisses your nose and wraps his arms around you, securing you to him.

"Of course." You lie your head back down and close your eyes.

You could get used to this.

I know I said I was gonna finish this a long time ago, but I got distracted per usual 😭 hope you guys liked it 🧡

masterlist

#chris evans #cevans #captain america #avengers #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans fluff #chris evans smut #steve rogers #andy barber #ransom drysdale #chris evans fic #chris evans imagine #chris evans x you #smut #vannybarber

[edwardskhakipants]

Forks, Washington. August 2004.

Esme and Carlisle stood in the middle of their grand living room, waiting for their five vampire children to arrive. Alice arrived first—prompt as usual. She settled herself gracefully onto the tufted sofa Esme had recently acquired, only to be immediately jostled by Emmett who heaved himself onto the cushions. A breath caught in Esme’s throat—she had lost many pieces from her beloved collection by that action—but it looked like this one was still in one piece. For the moment. Jasper took Edward’s normal spot in the only armchair, forcing Edward to wedge himself between Alice and Emmett.

“What?” Rosalie grumbled as she perched on the armrest of the couch beside Emmett, “Are we having another one of those How to Respect the Telepath in Your Life meetings again?”

“No,” Edward answered, fully aware of the intent of this meeting since it hatched in Carlisle's mind two days prior. “But there’s never a bad time to bring that up. Christ, Emmett, if you’re going to have a song stuck in your head for over seventy-two hours, the least you can do is learn the correct lyrics.”

Emmett’s eyebrows knit together, asking his brother a silent question.

“It’s ‘mulatto, an albino, a mosquito, my libido,’” Edward answered.

Emmett’s brow furrowed doubtfully.

“No.” Edward shook his head, answering Emmett’s thoughts. “Why would he eat a beetle?”

Emmett grinned playfully and tilted his head towards Edward.

Edward wasn’t amused. “You know what it means.”

A silly grin plastered on his face, Emmett elbowed Edward in the ribs, silently egging him on.  

Edward’s eyes darted to Carlisle, then Esme, and he shifted in his seat. “Sexual desire,” he muttered.  

Emmett howled with laughter and clapped his hands once, “Wow, Eddie! You’re just going to say that in front of Esme!?” Edward scowled as Emmett’s bouts of laughter echoed through the room.

Esme ran a hand through her youngest’s ginger hair. “Boys,” she warned, and Emmett sucked in his laughter.

“Our meeting today has to do with all of you,” Carlisle began.

“We simply wanted to go over the rules of attending school with you kids before you start your second year at Forks High School,” Esme explained, unfolding and re-folding her hands in front of her. “There are already whispers, and we don’t want those whispers to turn into rumors.”

“I thought the only whispers about us at school were whether or not Edward liked girls,” Rosalie said, earning an eye-roll from Edward.

“No,” Alice chirped,” Some kids think we’re a cult.”

Jasper leaned back heavily in his chair. “We haven’t heard that one since the Seventies.”

“Kids are getting more creative these days.” Emmett nodded appreciatively.

Esme held up one, delicate finger. “Which is why it is best to take preventative action.”

Carlisle took the floor. “We thought a few reminders would be helpful before you started your first day of your second year,” Carlisle said. “We don’t want another incident like the one we had at the end of last year.”

Every head in the room turned towards Emmett.

“What?” Emmett threw up his hands in exasperation, “The water gun fight was the senior prank—I wasn’t the one who brought them to the school. Hell, I wasn’t even the only student who got suspended!”

“That’s true,” Carlisle agreed, “but you were the only student to shout, ‘Sit down, kids! Daddy’s gotta tinkle,’ and shoot the stream of the gun from your crotch.”

Jasper snickered—the sound was immediately silenced by a single raised eyebrow from Esme.

“I still don’t see the problem,” Emmett continued, “That’s not necessarily a vampire thing.”

Edward—who often mistook himself as the third vampire parent rather than the youngest son—sighed, “Yes, but it brings unnecessary attention to the family. Which is the first rule: do not bring attention to yourself.”

Esme ran her fingers through her son’s hair once more, “Yes, darling, you are especially good at keeping to yourself.” Edward’s eyes widened, despite Esme’s gentle touch, already aware of where her point was headed. “So much so, that I have been given the names of several child therapists to help my son through his depression. One was recommended for his exceptional work on spotting and treating the early signs of sociopathic behavior.”

Esme grabbed her son’s chin and forced him to look at her. “You have to talk to other people.”

Knocked off his high horse, Edward flinched back from Esme’s hand. “Friendship with humans never bodes well for us.”

“We’re not asking you to create lifelong friendships with humans,” Carlisle clarified, “We are simply asking you to be likable.”

“A nearly impossible feat for Edward.” Rosalie grinned. The comment went unnoticed, save Edward’s slight flinch. But the quick, little tick was satisfying enough for Rose.

“Look at your father,” Esme gestured towards Carlisle, “At every hospital he works at, he goes out of his way to ensure he is well-liked among his colleagues. He forces down countless lunches and coffees, solely to make sure they’re comfortable around him.”

Carlisle took over. “And your mother, a beloved member of her gardening club and a prized member of the PTA.”

“And neither of us have rumors started about us, and do you know why?”

All five teenagers grumbled the ingrained response. “Humans don’t want to spread rumors about people they like.”

“Exactly.” Esme nodded.

“I try!” Alice whined, “But Edward never lets me talk to any humans.”

“That’s because every, single thing that is about to come out of your mouth is incriminating. You might as well walk around with a neon sign that says, ‘I’m a psychic vampire’.”

Alice scoffed, “Is not!”

“You wanted to tell Nihal Howard not to audition for the musical.”

“And he broke his leg on opening night,” Alice challenged.  

“You were going to tell Christiana Ward that pink was not her color.”

“And she lost prom queen to Ashley Kirby.”

Jasper put a comforting hand on his wife’s knee. “Maybe try not to meddle so much, darlin’. Natural relationships, first.”

“They would have been!” Alice wailed, “I would have played it cool and casual and made friends and you all would have seen it! But everyone’s hurt and I have no friends at all because Edward won’t let me try!”

Edward rolled his eyes.

Carlisle suppressed a heavy sigh. “You have to let your sister try, Edward.”

Edward’s mouth fell open. “You cannot seriously be siding with her on this!”

But Carlisle stood his ground. He and Edward stared at one another for a few seconds, engaged in a silent conversation. In the end, Carlisle tilted his chin and Edward slumped back. Victorious, Alice used both pointer fingers to jab Edward in the side several dozen times at vampire speed.

Rosalie flipped her golden locks over her shoulder. “I don’t know how you all struggle so much. I have no issues with becoming well-liked at school while remaining inconspicuous.”

“Oh yeah, you’re so inconspicuous,” Edward grumbled, now extra-petty that he had been called out two times in one meeting. “You dress like you're on your way to brunch at your second husband’s country club in Beverly Hills and you make out with your foster brother. The perfect picture of discretion in Forks High School.”

“At least I don’t dress like a sad, old man.” Rosalie grimaced, disappointed in her comeback. The light, humorous insults that were required in family situations were Emmett’s forte; Rosalie’s insults were meant to emotionally cripple a person.

Edward sat up in his seat on the couch and turned to face Rosalie. “I think you missed the main takeaway in that you make out with your foster brother.” Edward turned back. “I can read your minds, and I still don’t understand what made either of you think it was okay to bring your relationship to school?!”

Emmett smiled, unperturbed. “It’s hot.”

“It’s disturbing,” Edward disagreed.

Esme frowned, “You kids don’t really do that, do you?”

“Would it help if Jasper and I became an official couple too?” Alice suggested.     Jasper perked up at the idea of being able to hold hands with Alice in public again.

“No!” Edward yelled at the same time Emmett and Rosalie muttered their acquiesce.

“It wouldn’t seem as weird if there were two couples,” Emmett agreed.

Edward dug his fingers through his hair. “Oh my god!”

“...maybe not, kids,” Esme intervened, but was ultimately ignored.

“So should we come out today like it happened over the summer, or make a little show out of it?” Alice asked Rosalie.

Rosalie waved a hand in the air. “Oh, it’s way more fun if you play up the theatrics.”

“A little more realistic, too,” Emmett agreed.

Alice looked to Jasper for his opinion. “It might be better if we were discreet about it,” she said. “Like we knew it was wrong, but we wouldn’t let anything stand in the way of our love.”

Jasper scooted forward to the edge of his seat. “Or we could let it be quiet and drawn out. Let others see our mutual pining, and root for us to be together.”

Gazing deep into the golden eyes of her soulmate, Alice sighed, “I love that.”

“If people wanted us to get together, it would normalize Emmett and Rosalie’s relationship.”

“Or Rosalie and Emmett could stop,” Edward suggested, bitterly. “That would be normal, too.”

“Oh, Edward,” Alice patted his shoulder, “You’ll find love someday, too.”

“That is not at all what bothers me about the situation.”

Carlisle made the decision for everyone. “Rosalie and Emmett, break up at school. Alice and Jasper, remain friends and siblings.”

Disappointment filtered into the room through Jasper.  

“I heard that,” Edward grumbled at someone’s thoughts.

“You were supposed to,” Rosalie shot back.

“We are also initiating a new rule,” Esme brought the room back to the conversation at hand, “No more correcting your teachers.”

A chorus of complaints rang from the couch.

Esme clicked her tongue, “I’m tired of defending you all from entirely preventable issues. I have emails from curious teachers wondering why my foster daughter is taking French 101, when she already appears to be fluent.” Esme looked at Rosalie, who immediately tucked her bottom lip between her teeth. “Or why my son, at the tender age of sixteen, could not only deadlift three hundred pounds in his first weightlifting class, but also give his coach tips on improving his posture.”

Emmett glanced over at Edward before he realized Esme was, in fact, addressing him. “What!?”

Jasper snorted. The sound was a mistake, for it brought Esme’s wrath onto him. “And not to mention the emails from not one, not two, but three teachers warning me that my foster son has an intimate understanding of the mechanics of a point fifty-eight caliber rifle-musket.” Esme held out her hands, almost pleadingly, “How does that subject keep coming up, Jasper?”

A noncommittal grunt was the only answer Jasper had for that question.

“No more,” she commanded. “You can get good grades but keep your extra knowledge on any subject to yourself. Whatever your teacher teaches is all you know. Understand?”

“But what if we—” Edward started.

“Understand?” Esme repeated.

The five teenage vampires understood, even if they didn’t want to. 

“I believe that all five of you will graduate from Forks High School!” Esme cheered.

The kids stared back, unable to muster the zeal Esme had over the prospect.

“Meeting adjourned!” Carlisle announced, and faster than fast vampire speed, the kids bolted from their seats. 

Esme was able to get in a few more reminders as her children flitted around the house and filed out to the silver Volvo.  “Remember to buy lunch with cash and not your credit cards. Emmett, please do not joke about being mauled by a bear. Do not address your teachers by their first names—I don’t care if you’re older than they are, Edward. Alice, please wear something a bit more causal, pet.”

When the house was finally empty, Carlisle pulled Esme backwards into his chest and began massaging her temples. The gesture wasn’t needed, but any touch from her husband was always welcome.

“Do you think they’ll listen?” she asked her husband.

“Not a chance.”

#this bad boy had been swimming around in my head for awhile #please enjoy #my other fics havent been cullen centric enough for me lately #so i had to do something #twilight fic #twilight fan fiction #and thank you to the editing queen edwardsmate4ever for beta'ing for me #youre a queen